by Susan Harper
“Good plan,” Holly said.
“Come on, this way,” Monica said, and they marched through the trees.
“So where is this portal?” Holly asked. “It’s not in the back of a bookshop too, is it?”
“No, it’s one of the larger portals,” Monica explained. “The largest out there, in fact.”
“Really?” Holly asked, and she suddenly gasped.
Up ahead was a large, metallic building right in the middle of the woods. There were droves of witches flying in from upper floor levels. Down below, creatures of all kinds were lining up. “Stay close. Customs here is just terrible,” Monica said, and the two women locked arms while Abigail followed closely on foot. “Careful not to get stepped on, Abs. Want me to carry you?”
“I’ve been to this portal before. I know the drill,” Abigail said.
The inside of the building looked like an airport with mystics walking around with luggage and the various inhouse restaurants and mystics in security uniforms. “This is insane,” Holly whispered.
“You should see it around the holidays—total nightmare,” Monica said.
They had to wait in a large line and speak to a receptionist before being allowed behind a velvet rope where they had to stand in yet another line. “In Wysteria, we just walk right on in and out whenever we want,” Holly grumbled.
“The portal in the bookshop is small and privately owned,” Monica explained. “This one is owned by the Sorcerer’s Council. Our national government…”
“No wonder it’s so slow,” Holly grumbled.
Eventually, the line appeared before a door that seemed stationed in the middle of nowhere, and mystics were going through one at a time and not coming out the other side. They were entering the mortal realm. “Here we go,” Monica said, pushing Holly through first. She went next, followed by Abigail.
“Are you kidding me?” Holly was exclaiming when they arrived on the other side, the mortal side, of the building. There were various shops and novelty stores inside the airport-looking structure, all selling knockoff items with phrases like “Area 51” and “They Exist.” Holly stared blankly back at Monica. “We’re in Area 51 in the middle of the Nevada desert, aren’t we?”
“Of course,” Monica said. “Why else do you think this zone is completely closed off to mortals? Far too many mystics jumping the portal here.”
“Isaac would be having a cow if he found out that this is what Area 51 really is—a freaking transportation hub for wizards, ghouls, and goblins!” Holly exclaimed.
“How far are we from Moreland City?” Monica asked.
“Not too far,” Holly said. “We could probably get there a lot faster if your broom just took us via motorcycle.”
Once they were outside, Monica transformed her broom into the black and purple motorcycle, and Holly and Abigail climbed into the sidecar. Monica elected not to take it airborne, not wanting to get into trouble with the transport agents working the portal zone. They sped along several highways, eventually finding Moreland City as well as the little suburban neighborhood that was home to Holly’s father.
Monica changed her broom back to normal, and they found a spot near a wooded area to stash their brooms. Holly checked the address several times, and eventually they realized they were right across the street from the home of her biological father. Holly was clearly anxious about the upcoming encounter. “It’s going to be great,” Monica told her.
“I’m sure, I’m sure,” Holly said. “I’ve just… This has kind of a been a lifetime coming, you know?”
Together, with Abigail trailing, they walked up the driveway, but Holly hesitated at the front door. Then, they heard laughter coming from the house. It sounded youthful and pleasant. Holly leaned to peer through the window, and Monica followed suit where they spotted a young teenaged girl on the phone, chattering away. Monica glanced at Holly, who now seemed frozen. “So…” Holly said breathlessly. “That’s why…”
“What? What’s wrong?” Monica asked.
“I just… He always seemed so happy when I spied on him on the snow globe,” Holly said. “He’s got a whole other family…”
“Well, it has been over twenty years,” Monica said. “Oh! Holly, that girl in there could be your sister! Isn’t that an exciting thought?”
Holly didn’t look excited. “What if… What if I’m his dirty little secret?”
“You won’t know until you knock on that door, now will you?” Abigail said, having just arrived behind them. “Come on, now, this is what we came here for, isn’t it?”
“This was a terrible idea,” Holly said, and she spun around rapidly.
“Holly, wait!” Monica called out, and the door flung open.
The teenager had evidently heard them. “Can I help you?” she asked politely.
“No, we were just leaving,” Holly said.
“No, we weren’t,” Monica said firmly, but Holly gave her a dreadful glare.
The young girl smiled suddenly. “You…” she said to Holly, and her face lit up. “Your name… Your name doesn’t happen to be Holly, does it?”
Monica and Holly both froze. How could the girl possibly know that? Holly frowned, studying the younger girl carefully. “It is, actually. How do you know that?” Holly asked.
The girl practically screamed and disappeared into the house, leaving the door wide open. “Anniston! Anniston! You are not going to believe who’s here!”
Monica and Holly exchanged confused glances. Looking down at Abigail, Monica could see she looked just as befuddled as they were when suddenly two girls, so perfectly identical it was almost frightening, were standing in the doorway. “That’s not her, is it? Do you think it is?” one girl asked.
“She said her name was Holly.”
“No, she didn’t,” the girl argued and looked up at Holly. “What’s your name?”
“Um… It is Holly…” Holly said nervously, and both girls squealed as though their favorite teen pop star had just arrived on their doorsteps.
The next thing Monica knew, they were being dragged into the house, and Abigail had to scurry in quickly to avoid being shut in the door. Monica could hardly keep up with the two of them.
“You’re really her, then?”
“She must be! Look at her. She looks just like Dad.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“I think she does.”
“Well, she does have his nose.”
“Bit of his hair color, I’d say.”
“She did say she was Holly.”
“Why else would a girl named Holly show up at our door?”
“That’s her,” they both said at once and giggled.
“Anniston,” one girl said, pointing to her chest.
“Angel,” said the other, making an identical sweeping motion to point to herself. “And you’re Holly, our sister, right?”
Monica could tell Holly was overwhelmed by this bizarre greeting. “I… I don’t know…” Holly said breathlessly. “I came here looking for my father?”
“Joseph Kent,” the twin girls said in such harmony that it truly sounded like only one of them had said it.
“Yes!” Holly exclaimed. “So… I’m at the right house?”
“Of course you are!” Angel shrieked.
“How do you… Do you know about me?” Holly asked.
“Yes!” Anniston said. “Of course we do. Dad has been looking for you for ages.”
Monica saw Holly’s face positively brighten at this bit of information. “He has?” she asked.
“Yes, he has. About five years now, right, Annie?”
“That’s right. Five years.”
“Girls, why is the front door unlocked?” a voice bellowed, and a woman with curly, jet-black hair entered. She was in a tight business suit and wore oversized sunglasses.
Monica could see Holly’s body tense up. Now who were they meeting?
“Mom!” Angel shrieked, darting over to the woman and nearly pushing her over to g
et her in the door. Anniston assisted, grabbing their mother’s bag right off her shoulder and tossing it out of the way, hardly giving the woman a moment to breathe. “Mom! Mom! Look who it is!” Angel exclaimed.
The woman removed her sunglasses and stared at Holly blankly for a moment. “I’m sorry? Have we met?” the woman asked, but she suddenly cupped her hand over her mouth. “Oh… Oh!” she yelped. “You… You’re Holly!”
“I am,” Holly said, her voice a bit shaky.
Monica wasn’t certain, but she assumed this woman was not Holly’s mother, and this made her a bit nervous on Holly’s behalf. This was probably not the best way to meet her father’s wife—showing up unannounced without him there. But, much to Monica’s relief, the woman threw her arms around Holly’s neck. “I don’t believe it!” the woman said. “You have no idea… Joseph has been looking for you for so long!”
Holly pulled back, and Monica could see a few tears trickling down Holly’s cheeks. “Sorry,” Holly said, wiping her eyes. “I wasn’t really expecting such an excited greeting…”
“Are you kidding me?” the woman exclaimed. “Joseph has been searching for you for so long, Holly! Oh, and he’ll be back tonight! He’s been out of town on a business trip all week. This is just perfect!”
“We should throw a party,” Anniston said.
“We need to call the family,” Angel added.
“I’ll call Uncle Roczen!”
“And I’ll call Uncle Weston and Aunt Tora.”
“Ooh, and Marsha! She could meet the whole family!” Anniston exclaimed. “Oh! If we get everyone over here tonight, we could throw Dad a—”
“—surprise welcome home party!” Angel shouted, finishing her twin’s sentence. “Imagine if he walked in and Holly was here?”
“Girls, stop it,” their mother said. “You’re overwhelming her.”
Holly smirked. “I am just glad to hear he wants to meet me.”
“Are you kidding?” the woman asked. “It’s all he’s talked about for years.”
“I didn’t catch your name?” Holly asked.
“It’s Norah, dear,” she said, smiling. “I suppose I’m your stepmother, aren’t I?” Norah turned to Monica.
“This is my friend Monica,” Holly said, then nodded down at Abigail. “And her pet cat, Abigail. She came with me… I was a little nervous about coming out this way.”
“Understandable, understandable,” Norah said, suddenly whipping around. “Girls, what are you doing?”
“Texting Marsha,” Anniston.
“I’m texting Uncle Roczen about the party.”
“We’re not doing a party!” Norah yelped.
“Are you sure?” Angel asked. “Because Uncle Roczen just said he’d pick up a bunch of burgers for it.”
Holly and Monica both snickered. Norah slapped her forehead. “Honestly, you two!” Norah said, shaking her head. “Who all have you texted? You know what? Don’t answer.” She turned around to face Holly. “I am so glad to finally meet you, Holly. Your father is supposed to be flying in tonight. Just wait until he sees you.”
“Told you there was nothing to worry about,” Monica said, and Holly smiled brightly back at her.
4
Isaac felt that he should have done this sooner—investigate, that was. Honestly, who was this Monica Montoya anyhow? He counted her as a friend, of course, but how much did he really know about her? He knew she was from Chicago, or, so she said. He knew she had taken over Wilma’s shop, who was supposedly her aunt, but he didn’t really know anything about Wilma either. He also knew that she had a twin sister who tended to pop up as randomly as Wilma. Mona, the twin sister whom he had only met in passing apart from one Christmas party where she had dressed in all black and acted mildly disturbed by anything brighter than a moderate shade of gray.
He had known Monica for nearly a year now, and he felt he didn’t know a thing about her. Was Mona even her only sibling? He recalled Holly mentioning once that Monica and Mona’s parents had died in some sort of tragic accident when they were young and that both girls had been raised by their Aunt Wilma and her boyfriend at the time—someone they called Uncle Drac. But, honestly, wasn’t that it? Wasn’t that all he knew?
The more he thought it over, the more alarmed he became at his lack of knowledge of this woman he called his friend. She was frightfully secretive, and he had never even realized it until now. He gripped the steering wheel of his car nervously, realizing he was indeed making the right decision. Soon he pulled up at the edge of the forest just on the outskirts of Bankstown where Monica lived alone with her pet cat. He wondered for a moment if Monica had taken the cat with her. Probably. She took it everywhere like it was an accessory.
Isaac parked in the field across the street from the driveway—the only driveway for miles. Taking his satchel, Isaac began the walk. It was a cobblestone driveway, and it was a bit old and worn, but it was a pleasant walk. The driveway twisted and winded off in every direction. He imagined that if he had come here at night, he would have been on edge, but during the day with the sun shining through the trees, it was rather pleasant.
The cottage was small but pleasing to the eyes. A little stone patio sat to the side of the house, a few flowers growing out of pots scattered about. It was so perfectly normal and sweet—everything from the little garden gnome to the wooden swing in the small clearing and the green vines growing up at one corner. For a moment, he felt ridiculous. Why did he really feel the need to investigate Monica all of a sudden? She was his friend, wasn’t she? If he wanted to know more about her, couldn’t he just ask?
The question really was, would she be honest if he did? There was just something about the Montoya family that was gnawing at him, and that led him up the little front porch. He pulled out his lockpick kit and got to work on the door. When the lock finally clicked, the door whooshed open on its own. “Where on earth did that wind come from…” he muttered, looking around.
He shrugged it off and entered the house. He searched everywhere for a light switch only to eventually conclude that there wasn’t one. Pulling out his cellphone to use as light, he realized there were no traditional light fixtures in the cottage. A chandelier above him held candles, and there was an oil lantern seated on the end table. “Old school…” he muttered, fumbling around with the lantern for a bit as he had never used one before.
He opened the curtains and lit the lantern to brighten the room. It was a small cottage. The sitting area was just inside the door, and there was a clear path straight into the kitchen. There was a lovely mantled fireplace and several bookshelves.
Isaac wandered over to the bookshelves, discovering she had nearly an entire shelf dedicated to Chicago. He supposed it was just hometown pride—or research for a place she had never been. Which one it was, he wasn’t so sure yet. The rest of the books were a bit more interesting. There was a book on runes, a handful of what appeared to be spell books, and a book on vampires—written as though they were a moving part of history. He smirked, starting to find himself to be rather ridiculous. “She’s a dork,” he said at last and wound up flopping down on her couch. “She’s some sort of…” He looked into the fireplace, spotting a cauldron. He laughed. “She’s a Harry Potter nerd or something…”
Yes, everything in the room seemed to scream Potterhead to him. He bet that Monica’s sister was the same way, which would explain the way she dressed. Monica was probably just more private about the fandom she was clearly a part of. He suspected if he looked in her bedroom, he would probably find the entire series along with various other young adult fiction novels about things that went bump in the night. He decided against snooping through her bedroom, though. She would kill him if she ever found out. Frankly, he knew he was really pushing his luck breaking into her house in the first place.
Isaac pulled out his computer. It took him forever to get an internet connection, which wasn’t surprising out this way. Even his hotspot had some trouble, but eventually, he was onl
ine. Deciding to try one last snoop before moving past his whole ‘investigate Monica’ phase, he looked her up online. This was when things got a little strange. He couldn’t find a Monica Montoya anywhere. He found a few women with the same name, but none of them were the Monica he knew. Isaac searched and searched and searched, but there was absolutely nothing. He tried searching for Mona and Wilma as well, but he continued to turn up empty. How was it that not one of them had any sort of digital footprint that he could find? Was that even possible these days?
“Seriously?” he said loudly and in a frustrated tone. Almost as soon as he let out the frustrated shout, a book went shooting off one of the shelves toward him and beamed him in the side of the head. Isaac yelped and jumped to his feet, nearly dropping his laptop in the process. He looked around nervously, slowly closing his computer and putting it back into his satchel. “H… Hello?” he called, and he heard a glass shatter in the kitchen.
Isaac jumped and turned around, but there was no one there. “Who’s there!” he shouted, and the light burning in the oil lantern went out and then the curtains shut, seemingly on their own. “Knock it off, I swear!” he shouted and bolted for the door, but it was locked.
His eyes went wide. He couldn’t get the door open. He turned back, facing the interior of the house. His gaze swept from one side of the cottage to the other. “Who… Who’s there? Listen, I’m a friend of Monica’s!”
“Get…out…” a ghoulish hiss erupted, and he swore it was as though the sound had come from within his ears. The door flung open, and the floormat was jerked out from under his feet. Isaac fell flat on his back on the porch, and the door slammed and locked behind him.
Isaac scrambled to his feet, his heart beating so rapidly he was certain it was going to pop right out of his chest. He looked around, confused as to what had just taken place, when he heard a snickering coming from the garden. Isaac locked eyes with the gnome, which he could swear was sitting several feet over from where it had been when he first arrived. Though the thing did not move, Isaac felt as though it would at any moment and bolted back up the driveway. He could hear the hissing sound of the mysterious voice as though it was chasing him, and he felt an icy touch on the back of his neck that only sped him up.