by Sam Cheever
I tried to grab the second shoe, but it dodged neatly away. Before my eyes, the things turned into high heels again. They were a deep, blood-red color with four-inch-tall metallic heels that looked painfully sharp.
I quickly learned just how sharp they were when the rogue shoe started attacking me, heel first.
“Ahhh!” I screamed as the heel bit into my throat and then danced away before I could wrap a hand around it.
The shoe in my other hand stopped trying to pull out of my grip and suddenly shot toward me, catching me off guard. The heel hit me between the eyes and agony ripped through me.
Fear turned to rage. I swung my hand at the errant shoe and blasted it with a slender gray ribbon of energy.
The wimpy shot of power wrapped around the flailing stiletto and gripped it tight, the artifact shifting colors again as it fought to get free.
The delicate high heel turned to a heavy boot. The loose shoe…boot…launched itself at my head, kicking me right in the temple. I went down, shrieking Grym’s name as the one shoe I’d managed to grab wrenched itself from my grip.
Despite the dizziness left behind by the violence of the attack, I started to shove myself back to my feet. There was a jangling sound, and I realized someone had come through the front door. My first thought was that the shoes were going to escape through the door.
I stumbled upward. But it appeared the shoes were vengeful. They contented themselves instead with wailing on me, serving up an energetic boot to the belly, one to the thigh, and a couple to my forearms as I tried to defend myself against the attack.
Just as I believed I wasn’t going to survive the attack, a big hand whipped out of nowhere and wrapped around one of the boots.
Grym fought the boot, almost losing it when it shifted from a bulky walking boot to a slender flip flop, finally managing to shove it into a bag unlike any I’d ever seen before and seal it in. The shoe immediately stopped fighting, the bag quieting, and Grym dropped it to the floor as he reached for the second flip flop.
Not a moment too soon.
The stupid thing hung in the air like a sparkly featherweight boxer, slapping me on one cheek and then the other so quickly I couldn’t get a hand on it as my head was thrown from side to side. Pain was a constant torment over my face, head and neck and stars danced before my gaze.
Grym grasped the angry flip flop and shoved it into a second bag before it could shift to a thigh-high biker boot and beat us both into carpet stains.
I sagged back against the shelves, my entire body throbbing with pain, blood running from my stiletto wounds, and my chest heaving. I was so not in shape for fieldwork.
Grym winced when he eyed me. “You okay?”
I couldn’t help myself, I gave him the evil eye. “Do I look okay?”
He shrugged. “Not really. But I’m sure that was pretty par for the course in your job, eh?”
Holy Humperdink! I thought. I certainly hoped not.
Detective Grym dropped me off at Croakies, nodding at me as I clasped the door and shoved it open. “Ms. Griffith, I appreciate your help.”
I grimaced as I turned in my seat, every muscle in my body sore. It had been a mistake to sit still for so long. “It was my…” I grimaced, putting a hand to my lower back like an old woman. “…pleasure.”
He made a sound that was suspiciously like a laugh, I turned to glare at him. “Don’t forget these.” He shoved the two bags at me. “Tell Alice to put them under nullifying magic and behind a locked door. And keep them separated.”
I took the bags, feeling the magic vibrating through the thick plastic. I didn’t know enough to discern if the energy was from the shoes or from the specially magicked bags that held them. “I will.”
I started to close the door.
“Ms. Griffith?”
I stopped, leaning down to look into the car before I remembered my entire body was broken. Pain sliced through me, and I winced before I could stop myself. “Yes?”
“Can I see your phone?”
I frowned, my hand hovering protectively over the cell phone in my pocket. “Why?”
He held out a hand, impatiently wiggling the fingers.
I stared at him for a few beats and then sighed, handing it to him. He was, after all, the long arm of the law.
Grym tapped a few buttons and handed it back to me. “In case you need to get in touch. It’s my direct line.”
I looked down to find that he’d stored his number as a Favorite. Cheeky. Embarrassingly, he was my only Favorite. “Thanks.”
“For what it’s worth, I think it was a dirty trick sending you out into the field before you’re trained. You could have been badly injured.”
Since I’d been stabbed by stilettos, beaten by a boot, and flogged by flip flops, I couldn’t imagine what he considered badly injured. Maybe it required a limb being sawed off. “I can handle myself.”
The detective was looking at me with pity again. I hated it when someone looked at me that way. It made me feel inadequate.
“I’m not completely untrained,” I objected. I’d thought I’d functioned reasonably well for my first day on the job.
He stared at me. “Look, what you’re doing…training to become a Keeper…it’s a dangerous job. You’re playing with fire attempting it without any knowledge. I wanted you to know that I won’t bring you out with me again until you’re trained. If Alice won’t come, then the KoA won’t be involved in the next takedown. It’s not my job to train you, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Again…stabbed, bludgeoned, flogged.
I glared at him, so offended by his statement that I couldn’t respond. He gave me a little wave and then pulled away from the curb, driving off down the street before it occurred to me that I’d just been insulted and dismissed in one, long breath.
“Gnish!” I called after him, mentally kicking myself for being stupid.
I should have laid him out.
Turning around, I hobbled toward Croakies. The door to the herbal shop opened and Lea poked her head out. “Are you okay?”
I realized I was walking as if I were a hundred years old and tried to straighten, so I didn’t look so pathetic. “Sure. I’m good.”
Lea narrowed her startling blue eyes on me. “I don’t think so. Come on inside. I’ll brew you a special tea that will make you feel better.”
I shook my head. “I really should get these inside…”
She came out onto the sidewalk, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t be silly. They’re fine for a few minutes. Come on. You’re making me hurt to look at you.”
I threw a glance at Croakies and balanced the need to unburden myself of the killer shoes against the desire for the help and kindness the other woman promised. “Maybe just for a few minutes,” I said.
“Good.” She offered me her hand. “I think I might have some muffins too. We’ll make it a little tea party.”
5
Um…Is There Coffee?
It turned out that Lea was easy to talk to. By the time we’d consumed two cups of tea and as many muffins apiece, she was wiping tears of laughter from her face from my retelling of being shoe mugged.
Lea got up for a tissue, drying her face and blowing her nose. “Oh my goddess, that’s hilarious.”
I grinned at her, feeling much better as her special tea worked its way into my system and made everything feel better. Including my mood. “It was touch and go there for a while,” I admitted.
Then I remembered what Grym had said to me, and my smile slid away. “Detective Grym wasn’t impressed by my methods. He told me he wouldn’t ride with me again.”
Lea’s expression turned to annoyance. “That wasn’t very kind…” she said, running a fingertip along the rim of her teacup.
I sensed a “but” in there, so I cut it off at the pass. “But you think he was right?”
“Not to take it up with you, no. I’d say you did the best you could under the circumstances. It’s not a criti
cism of you. But Alice should have known better.”
I knew she was right. But I couldn’t help feeling as if I was a failure. Shaking my head, I said, “I should have known more about how my magic worked when I took the job.”
Lea fixed me with a kind look. I hadn’t told her about my upbringing. Not the whole story. I’d just glossed quickly over it, too embarrassed to admit how little my parents apparently cared about me to leave me with someone who wouldn’t help me with such an important part of my life.
I didn’t even really know what had happened to them. All my grandma would tell me was that they’d both died when I was two years old.
Lea was looking at me as if she knew everything about my life. I’d known her less than an hour, but I was starting to understand that she was a very intuitive person. “We’re all the product of our upbringing Naida. We can’t control our situation. We’re only responsible for what we make of it. I have a feeling you’re going to make as much of this Keeper gig as you can. That’s all anybody can ask of you.”
I nodded. Her words didn’t give me a pass. In fact, they were kind of a challenge. In a nice way, she was telling me to pull up my big girl panties and be the best Keeper apprentice I could be. She was right. And it was just the kick in the knickers I needed.
I smiled. “I’m going to prove Detective Surly Shorts wrong if it kills me,” I told her.
She grinned, her beautiful gaze sparkling with humor. “That a girl. Now, tell me about the flip flop slaps again. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that one.”
I lay on my cot in the big room and looked around, my eyes wide open. I’d been so tired when I’d hit the cot that I’d fallen quickly and deeply asleep. But then I’d had terrible dreams about men in old-fashioned uniforms exchanging bullets for arrows with a bunch of horseback riding Native Americans, and I’d jerked awake, the stench of gunpowder and the screams of charging men sifting through my mind.
My heart still pounding against my ribs from the dream, I shoved upright and looked around, the feeling of danger and death sliding away as the artifact library wrapped its soothing presence around me. Despite its massive size, the big space felt like home in a way my grandma’s house never had.
Surrounded by thousands of magical artifacts, I felt as if I was among friends. As strange as that was. A soft breeze bathed my cheeks, and I looked up to find the hat feather that had visited me earlier, hanging in the air before me.
I smiled when it cocked itself to one side as if in question. “I’m okay.” I shoved at the hard cot. “This is just really uncomfortable.” It could be because my body was a study in bruise art from the shoe beating incident.
Those stupid flip flops had packed quite a punch. Literally.
The feather dipped and swirled across the air in front of me. Music swelled from nowhere, filling the space with an old-fashioned waltz that the feather seemed to like. The dancing artifact was soon joined by a pirouetting hat pin. The two of them dipped and soared through the dimly-lit space.
Watching them, I could almost envision two people dancing the waltz in a glittery ballroom. I laughed, enjoying the show.
With a soft sifting of air, the straw hat flew from its spot on the stacks and dropped onto my head. I went very still, blinking in surprise for a beat, and then felt myself beginning to move to the elegant notes of the Walz.
The notes grew and swelled, and I found myself swaying with unaccustomed grace through the moves.
I laughed with delight as I frolicked to the music. Pleasure infused me. The music sped, and I moved faster and faster to keep up. My feet never missed a step. Rather than getting tired, I was intoxicated by the movement and the music.
The ribbons of the hat slipped around my throat, tying into a loose bow. I rejected the brief jolt of alarm as the bow fluffed loosely beneath my chin, offering grace and beauty rather than harm.
The first Walz moved into another and another, and my heart filled with the beauty of the experience. Even as my legs tired and my feet started to falter, I felt only pleasure. But my eyes began to droop, and my feet stopped feeling the floor. When I could barely keep moving from weariness, the feather slipped its soft barbs across my eyes and I dropped, hitting a floor that felt like a feather pillow rather than the concrete it was. My thoughts drifted into darkness as the music sang me to sleep.
I slept deeply until morning, not waking until someone made a loud throat-clearing sound. My eyes fluttered open and I stretched, enjoying the comfy cloud of my bed. But as soon as my eyes opened I felt the cold hardness of concrete beneath me.
Alice stared down at me, worry set deeply into her expression. The tiny frog in her hair peered at me from just above her left ear, its black gaze equally concerned.
Fenwald was stretched out next to me, batting at the hat feather I’d been clutching in one hand.
I shoved upright, dizziness making me wobble. “What happened? How did I get here?”
Alice’s thin lips pressed together. “I’d say that’s rather obvious, yeah?” She nodded toward the feather. “You let the magic grab hold of you. What were you thinking, Naida? You could have been seriously hurt.”
Silky ribbons tugged against my throat. I looked down to where the hat ties were caught beneath my backside. I lifted one butt-cheek and pulled the ribbon free, reaching up to tug the hat off my head. I was alarmed to find the hatpin sticking into the back of the straw, no doubt just barely missing my scalp. “Oh. I…”
I dropped the feather inside the hat and rubbed my face. “I had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep. The feather was entertaining me.”
Alice’s gaze slid to the cot. “Oy! That’s on me, I’m afraid. I forgot. That’s Custer’s cot.”
Still half asleep, I was having trouble processing her words. “Custer? Who’s that?”
“You know, Custer’s Last Stand? The cot’s a bit stuck in the past. Everyone who sleeps on it relives the battle. I am sorry, Naida.” She cocked her head, and the tree frog scurried through the frizzy mass of her hair to peer at me from the top of her head. “You can sleep on my couch from now forwards if you’d like.”
I didn’t like that option any better, but I needed coffee before I made any decisions. Yawning, I pushed to my feet. “I’ll just put this away.”
Fenwald jumped up and trotted with me to the shelves and then followed me to the dividing door, yowling impatiently for me to open it. I stopped, blinking rapidly to clear the last of the sleep from my eyes. I glanced back to where Alice still stood. “Um, is there coffee?”
Barely managing to wriggle my way out of eating something called spotted dick for breakfast, I gnawed on a rock-hard scone from the day before, carefully scraping slivers from the end, so I didn’t break my teeth.
I’d kill for a donut or two. My stomach rumbled enthusiastically at the thought.
Or maybe three.
The bell jangled on the front door, and I looked up from the notes I’d been reading to see a tiny, elderly woman with sparkling gray eyes come inside. She was brushing at her coat and tsking energetically.
I jumped up, eager for a break from my studies. “Hello.”
The woman smiled at me, adjusting her handbag over her wrist. “Hello, dear. You’re new.”
I nodded, “I’m Naida,” I said, offering her my hand and immediately feeling silly for having done it. But she clasped my offering in a soft grip.
“It’s nice to meet you, Naida. I hope Alice is all right?”
“Hullo, Mrs. Foxladle,” Alice said as she came through the dividing door. “I’ve got your books behind the counter.”
“Lovely!” She gave my hand another squeeze. “It was such a pleasure meeting you, dear.”
I nodded, watching with a pathetic kind of longing as Alice pulled a stack of books from under the counter and proceeded to show them to the sweet older woman.
“I’m sorry it took so long to get these,” she told Mrs. Foxladle. “My buyer has been ill.”
I frowned. I was pretty sure Alice was buyer, owner, stockgirl, and spotted dick baker in one. So, why had she lied?
A few moments later, I waved goodbye as the elderly woman left and returned to my work.
“Thank you, dear,” she said to someone at the door.
I glanced back up and saw her sliding past a young man with black hair and a cool gaze. He held the door for her and nodded when she thanked him again. Then he came inside the store.
I stood and gave him a welcoming smile. “Can I help you?” I asked.
He smiled shyly. “No, but thank you. I’m just going to look around.”
“Of course. Just let me know if I can answer any questions.” An unlikely possibility since I knew even less about the bookstore than I did about the artifact library, but I was getting pretty good at running to Alice for help.
He nodded and moved into the shelves, disappearing from view.
I squinted at my list of items to be cataloged. When Alice came back up front, I’d go finish that task. As much as I wanted to learn both parts of the business, I felt out of my element in the bookstore. Handling the artifacts made me happy. Even when I didn’t understand them.
My phone rang. I looked at the ID and saw it was the realtor who was selling my grandma’s home for me. I’d called her first thing that morning. “Hello?”
“Naida, hi. You left me a message?”
“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about the dispersal of the furnishings…”
A crash sounded down the stacks and I jumped. “Hold on.” I stood up and went to the center aisle, peering toward the back. “Are you all right?”
Silence.
“Hello?”
The customer poked his dark head around the end of the farthest shelves. “Sorry, I dropped a book.” He held up a thick tome covered in embossed leather. “The book and I are both fine.”
I nodded, smiling, then returned to the front of the store and my conversation. “I’m back, sorry. Yes, I know we’d discussed selling all the furnishings with the house…”