by Sam Cheever
He made an irritated sound. “But the good news is. You’re going to get it back for me.”
“Me?” Okay, that squeak in my voice was embarrassing. “I’m just a trainee. I have no idea…”
“You’d better get an idea fast, sorceress, or you’re going to find out firsthand how Gido died.”
A faint sound eased into the room from beyond the walls. A hopeful sound. At least it was hopeful for me. It was a decidedly less encouraging sound for the wizard. His features sharpened as the meaning of the shrill sirens singing their way toward us sank deep.
I smiled. That was the point I’d look back on as being my fatal mistake.
He didn’t like my smile. He didn’t like it at all.
A shadow fell over the wizard, a charcoal gray miasma that seemed to rise from the carpet beneath his feet and paint his immediate area in an obscuring haze. His form seemed to swell, the humanoid outline taking on an amorphous structure that pulsed with the rhythm of a sluggish heartbeat. From his waist down, the mist tightened into a slender column of oily energy and then seemed to shrink downward, transforming into a shiny puddle of black ooze on the carpet beneath where he’d been standing.
I pressed backward as the puddle grew and ate into the fibers of the thin carpet, sizzling as it spread in my direction.
As the wizard continued to transform into the acidic ooze, his expression turned mutinous. He opened his mouth and a series of guttural commands emerged. The magic shook the walls and sent framed pictures crashing to the floor, the glass fracturing into a million pieces.
The acidic puddle picked up speed, streaming directly toward my feet. I knew with sudden certainty that if it touched me, I was dead.
“Goodbye, Keeper,” the wizard growled as the last of his form turned liquid and melted into the running river of oily black magic.
The magic sludge flowed inexorably in my direction, eating everything in its path.
The wizard’s magic was Death, with its sulfurous stench and promise of agony.
I cast my gaze around me in desperation, seeing no way out. I turned and yanked on the door, screaming as it refused to budge. Acrid smoke filled the room, wafting ahead of the killing ooze. I succumbed to coughing so violent I had trouble breathing through it.
The oily river was mere inches from my shoes, and I had nowhere to go. I glanced toward the window. The sill might be big enough for me to stand on. Its height would buy me a few seconds, though I had no idea if it would be enough.
I shoved the water dispenser onto its side as the puddle began to surround my feet. The carpet burned away around me, the foul stench of its burning fibers choking me until I couldn’t breathe.
The water hit the black discharge, turning to steam too fast. I stepped on top of the dispenser’s base and leaped, praying I would land on the sill before the oily magic reached me. I managed to get one foot on the sill and my hands slammed against the window, cracking but not splintering it. My other foot slipped off, arrowing toward the boiling magic streaming across the floor. For a brief, terrifying moment, I thought for sure I was going to fall. But I somehow managed to grab hold of the window frame, my fingers white with the effort of keeping me upright.
Beyond the glass, the sirens squealed closer.
But not close enough.
The oily ooze had hit the trim along the bottom of the wall and was climbing upward, reaching for me with long, spidery fingers.
In pure desperation, I stomped on the streamers of ooze as they breached the sill. A fiery heat burned instantly through the bottom of my shoe, eating through the rubber and taking a bite out of the bottom of my foot.
The magic carved into my flesh, slicing, biting, burning. Agony was too mild a word for how that acidic magic felt against my skin.
I screamed, the desperate, tormented sound foreign to my ears. My screams drowned out the sound of the police cars screeching to a stop at the curb, lights flashing, and the sound of battering rams pummeling the door until it crashed open.
My throat raw, I croaked a warning to the police, fearing the rabid sludge would take them out as easily as it was preparing to kill me.
There were shouts. Followed by the sound of wings beating the air nearby. Big wings. Some kind of massive bird clutched the oily ooze in its beak, dripping streamers of the foul stuff toward the ground. There was a pain-filled scream, likely from the reforming wizard caught in the creature’s beak, a prehistoric screech that sounded like a victory cry, and then a familiar voice yelling, “I’ve got her.”
Well-muscled arms caught me as I fell, pulling me against the comforting wall of a firm chest. My head lolled against that chest, the rhythmical thump of a strong heart beating against my ear.
I sighed, finally giving in to the desire to let go. To escape the pain. And allowed blessed oblivion to carry me away.
21
Squeak!
A Phoenix shifter, I mused, still amazed. Who would have known there’d be such a creature in the Enchanted Police Department? The thing hadn’t even batted an eye at the burning ooze as it plucked it from the ground and threatened to swallow it, scaring the wizard into resuming his non-oozy form.
Making myself a promise that I’d shake the shifter’s hand one day, I nibbled on a piece of buttered toast and sipped my tea. Like everything else Alice cooked, both were just a tiny bit off, but my stomach roiled from the previous night’s events and I needed something inside it.
After facing off with the wizard, whose name I’d since learned was Leeds Mathews, I was really second-guessing my career choice to become a Keeper.
Maybe I could become a regular old librarian, far away from all things magical.
I liked books. I liked them a lot. Especially paranormal romance books. Maybe I could become a librarian of only paranormal romance books.
I sighed, swallowing the buttery bite of under-toasted bread and wiping my greasy fingers on a cloth napkin. I hadn’t even known Alice owned real cloth napkins.
That she’d used one for me seemed to imply that she was feeling guilty about something.
Setting the tray on the floor beside my bed, I lay back and closed my eyes, my mind too active, and my burned foot too sore to allow more sleep. I thought about the face-off with the wizard. It had been terrifying. But I’d come through it alive. I’d been no match for the oily black magic Leeds Mathews had thrown at me, but I’d used my wits, hitting the button to call Detective Grym as soon as I’d known I was in trouble. Thank the goddess he’d programmed his number into my phone. All it had taken was a blind stab on my Favorites screen when I’d realized I was in trouble. Yes, I’d been lucky that Favorites had been open when the phone went to sleep. But still…
Through the open call, Grym had heard Leeds admitting to the murder of Gido the gnome. He’d realized I was in trouble, and he’d come with the cavalry to help.
Alice told me I’d still been unconscious when Grym had carried me into Croakies, but that a quick visit from Doctor Whom had, in her words, “put me to rights”.
I had to admit that, whatever the strange doctor had done, my burned foot looked much better. It still ached, but the skin had gone from charred to pink during the hours that I’d slept.
Grym had, of course, filled Alice in on everything. She’d scolded me half-heartedly for not calling her in to deal with Mathews. Secretly, however, I was pretty sure she was pleased that I hadn’t. Her training style seemed to be comprised of flinging me into the deep end and hoping I learned to swim fast enough not to drown.
Footsteps plodded heavily through the artifact library, heading in my direction. I could tell from the speed and heaviness of the steps that it wasn’t Alice. My traitorous mind fed me the hope that maybe it was Detective Grym. I frowned at the pleasure the thought gave me. He was grumpy and judgmental. Although he was really cute. I shoved the thought away and told myself I was just suffering from hero syndrome. He had, after all, scooped me into his arms and carried me to safety.
It had been a
heady experience.
Or, it would have been if I hadn’t been drooping like a dead carp at the time, probably drooling on his shirt. Still, I sat up straighter, wiping the sleeve of my tee-shirt across my mouth in case I had butter on my lips.
It wasn’t Grym. But the form that emerged from between the artifact stacks surprised me.
Sebille knocked on the frame of a shelving unit and gave me an assessing look. Lifting a bright red eyebrow, she said, “What’s with the hair? You look like you have a giant starfish sitting on your head.”
My hand flew self-consciously to my head. I glared at her. “I’ve had a day. Have a little compassion.”
She actually snorted at that. “Yeah, compassion’s not really my thing.”
I was sensing that. “What can I do for you, Princess Sebille,” I asked in a cool tone.
She grimaced. “Don’t call me that. I’m not a princess. I’m just Sebille.”
“Okay, Sebille. The question still stands.”
She wandered into my hidey-hole and looked around, eyeing the trunk that grandma told me had come from my mom. She picked up the paperback novel sitting on top and flipped through it, a brow lifting at its subject matter.
“Put that down,” I said a bit defensively. “That’s how I relax.”
“I bet.” Her brows danced in innuendo.
“Sebille, are you just here to annoy me? Or did you have a purpose?”
She put the book back where she’d found it and turned to me, all indication of amusement gone. “I’ve come to offer my services.”
I blinked. “For what?”
“As your assistant. You’ll need one, both magically and practically. Alice will be leaving you on your own soon, and you’ve proven many times over the last few days that you’re not ready.”
Fear and guilt stabbed me in equal measure. Deep down, I knew she was right. But admitting it at that moment was beyond me. “I’ve done pretty well for my first week of training,” I told her. “I’ve solved three cases and managed to survive several attempts on my life.” All the blood left my face as I did the math on the attacks I’d endured. I could feel each and every droplet scurrying away on tiny, blood-droplet feet, afraid to stay and face the knowledge that I was in way over my head.
Sebille nodded. “On the surface, that sounds pretty good.” She must have seen the rage on my face because she softened. “You’ve actually done pretty well, considering how little real training you’ve gotten. But my offer stands. If…when…you become a new Keeper with too few resources, I’d be grateful if you’d call me.”
Okay, that offer was a bit more gracious. I narrowed my gaze on her. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would you offer to help me? I’m sure you have better things to do than hang around Croakies.”
Something passed through Sebille’s long, homely face. Something that made me sad. Though if pressed, I couldn’t say why.
“I like books,” she said. “And I know a lot about magic. It happens I’m in between projects right now. I think you and I could help each other.”
And that sealed it for me. Because, beneath the insults and overly-confident manner, Sebille needed a friend. And maybe something important to do.
Goddess knew I needed her.
I nodded. “I’ll let you know. But it might be a few months. Are you okay with waiting?”
Tension I hadn’t even noticed before slid away from Sebille’s face and she looked pleased. “I am. Besides,” she said as she turned to go. “I don’t think it’s going to be as long as you think.”
I joined Alice in the bookstore a couple of hours later, freshly showered and too antsy to lay around in bed any longer. She greeted me with a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and then slid her gaze away, pointing to a stack of new books that needed to be added into the inventory.
I settled happily to the busywork, happy to deal, finally, with something that didn’t put me at risk of being bludgeoned to death or melted by a puddle of evil wizard.
I shuddered violently at the thought.
At six o’clock, Alice locked the front door and turned the Open sign to Closed. She joined me at the table, where I’d just finished inputting the last stack of cozy cat mysteries into the inventory system. I closed the laptop with a sense of having accomplished something good for the day.
I glanced at Alice. “Calling it a day?”
She nodded.
“I’m just going to put these books on the shelves and then maybe call for pizza or something.”
“Brilliant. I’ll go pick it up if you’d like.”
“That would be great.”
But Alice didn’t move. She sat there, staring at her twining fingers, clearly wanting to say something.
I decided to help her get started. “Is something wrong?”
She took a long breath and sighed it out. “Actually, there is. I’m leaving.”
For just a beat, I sat there happily oblivious, my mind refusing to recognize the meaning behind the startling words.
But then it hit me, and I flinched back in shock. After the shock, terror slid in to take my breath right out of my lungs. “What?” I gasped. “You can’t. I don’t know what I’m doing.” I hated the shrieking tenor of my voice, but I didn’t seem able to stop it.
Alice raised her hands in a defensive posture as if my words were bullets. “Not right away, of course. I’ll continue to train you for a bit.”
I relaxed slightly, my heart easing back from doing the rhumba against my ribs. “Oh, that’s good. Don’t scare me like that.” I laughed breathily, but Alice didn’t join me.
She still looked miserable.
“How long is a bit?” I asked.
She looked to the side, her fingers purple from wrangling each other on the surface of the table. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times before she finally turned to me, still not quite meeting my eyes. “A month. Two at most.”
It wasn’t enough time. Not nearly enough. But I’d known I’d need to shorten my learning curve. I’d just have to tighten it up a bit more. I thought about it for a long moment and then said, “I want Sebille to come work at Croakies, as soon as she wants to come.”
Alice must have felt really guilty because she agreed immediately. “I think that’s a brilliant idea.” She looked a little relieved, I noticed. Which made me wonder if she even planned to teach me anything in the final months.
Silence squatted between us like an ugly frog until I finally broke it.
“Why are you leaving, Alice?”
She shrugged. “I was always going to leave, Naida. That’s why you’re here.”
“Yes, but my apprenticeship was supposed to last a year. And you haven’t taught me anything yet.” I knew it was a mean thing to say to her. But it was unfortunately true. And I was angry that she was abandoning me.
She flinched at my words but shook her head. “That’s not true. You’ve actually done quite well this first week. I believe you’ve learnt a lot.”
“By floundering around out of control, yes.”
“Not entirely. And you’ve made friends who can help you. Friends who seem to already…care for you.” Her expression turned sad. “In just a few short days, you’ve surpassed me in that.”
How sad. Alice felt as if she had no friends. “Is that why you want to leave?”
Her gaze shot to mine. She seemed surprised that I’d be so blunt. But she chewed her lip for a moment and then answered my question honestly. “Maybe in part. But I’m tired, Naida. I’m ninety years old. I’ve spent most of my life as Keeper of the artifacts. I want something more. I want to travel and have some fun.”
I could certainly understand that, so I nodded. I was still irritated with her, but I understood. And she was right. I’d begun creating a support structure for myself. More importantly, I’d formed new relationships that I treasured. I was luckier than I’d realized.
At that moment, fear for my future turned to hope an
d anticipation. I could do the Keeper job. I’d been doing it. Yes, it had been ugly. But I’d get better. And I had friends to help me keep my head above water when I needed it.
I actually smiled. “It will be okay,” I told her.
Alice’s smile eased some of the worry from her face. “Yes. It’s going to be brilliant.” She slapped her hands on the table and stood. “Now then. You make that call, and I’ll go pick up our dinner.” She headed toward the dividing door. “I just need to tidy up a bit, feed Fenwald and Oliver, send out a few emails, and Bob’s your Uncle.”
Bob’s your what? I asked myself. Then I shook it off and made the call to my favorite pizza place.
Twenty minutes later, as I was slipping the last of the new books into their proper spots on the shelving, Alice was heading out the front door to pick up dinner when she made an exclamation of surprise. “Oh! Hello, sweetums. I’m afraid we’re closed.”
A young, sweet voice I recognized said, “I need to see Naida.”
I came around the shelves and emerged into the open space as Maude Quilleran stepped through the door, a plastic carrier clutched in her hand. “Hello, Naida,” she said, grinning broadly.
I hurried forward, relieved to see her smiling. My reaction when I’d heard her voice was panic, assuming something horrible had happened because of my clumsy, if ultimately successful, artifact retrieval. But she was the picture of happiness.
And her hair looked spectacular.
I tucked a bristly strand of my wavy brown hair behind my ear and wondered if she’d let me borrow her brush. “Hey,” I said, smiling. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” she assured me. “I wanted to thank you again for getting my brush. If that derf Margo had used it and realized it was magical, my dad would have played Beethoven on my colon for getting him in trouble with the PTB.”
Grimacing at the mental image she’d created, I laughed. “I’m happy I could help.”
Maude glanced around the store, her expression filled with awe. “This place is really icy. He’s going to love it here.”