The Leira Chronicles- The Complete Austin Series

by Martha Carr

  “Not crazy at all.” The full weight of what he said—fifteen years—washed over her. All those missed years. A lot has gone wrong here.

  The light turned green but Hagan didn’t move and it wasn’t long before someone started honking.

  “Damn tourists,” he said.

  In Austin, locals still waved at strangers, even if it was just a couple of fingers peeled off a steering wheel, and no one jumped on the horn right away.

  Hagan wasn’t budging.

  He leaned over and ran the siren for a moment, sticking his arm out the window and waving everyone around him.

  “We have a lead to follow, Hagan. It’s okay, and by that I mean I’m okay. If you’re thinking I’m finally following my mother’s path, that’s not it…exactly.”

  “Very comforting, Berens.” He was still waving people around, giving the siren one more short blip and glaring at a driver who was yelling something from the safety of her car. “Look, I can handle the truth. I’ve seen a lot in my years on the force. You can’t shock me, trust me.”

  “I’ll lay it all out for you if you start driving. It’s kind of a complicated situation and an intersection isn’t the most conducive place to tell you. Go, I promise.” She tried to reassure him with her usual cold stare.

  “Only person I know that can make me feel better with a dead fish look.” He finally moved through the intersection.

  “You’re the only one who can say that to me.”

  “Well aware, and if you don’t start talking I’m going to stop in traffic again.”

  “Not sure where to start…”

  “Jump in the middle if you need to. The details will sort themselves out. What makes you think your mother is a normal kind of crazy?”

  “I was asked to be a kind of consultant for a murder case. A prince was killed and…”

  “A singer?”

  “Not that Prince. A prince in a kind of… foreign land,” Leira said haltingly. “He was knifed in a robbery. The suspect’s name is Bill Somers, some kind of archaeologist who made off with a rare necklace. Actually, I think the stone in the necklace is the rare part.”

  “I take it this has something to do with your PTO. So, you’re answering one of my questions. How does this come around to your mother?”

  Leira hesitated, just as the small troll turned over in her pocket. I have to trust someone.

  “I know you read the reports about my mother. It’s okay, I would have done the same thing. Get to know your partner, and all.”

  “You were a big unknown. Only been on the force a few years and you weren’t good at sharing facts about yourself.”

  “Would you be?”

  “No, maybe not.”

  “My mother was always a little out there. She talked about faeries in the garden and two worlds that came together but only once in thousands of years. She told those same stories for as long as I can remember. She seemed like your average flaky mom who liked to wear flowy skirts and maybe was smoking a little weed when no one was looking. Don’t give me the worried look, Hagan. It’s okay, I’m grown now.”

  “That’s the Leira I’m used to.” He shifted in his seat as they turned onto Lakeline Boulevard near the Alamo Drafthouse. The latest Alien movie was the headliner on the marquee. Hagan drove past the movie theater and at the end of the block, he pulled into the parking lot of an old brick apartment complex and parked the car near the back. The Mustang tended to attract attention. Not always the best on stakeouts.

  “Informant won’t be showing up for a little while. Still at his job asking if people want fries or not. Best to be in position,” he said. It was something Leira had heard him say a thousand times. Get there first, whenever you can. “We have a few minutes.”

  Leira thought about the situation. My partner is asking for the facts and if I can take the crazy feeling out of it, that is more than doable.

  “My mother started talking more and more about elves, dwarves and magic bugs.”

  “I remember reading about that.”

  “She was even starting to give them all names. There were details that made no sense. Insects that could be controlled by magic or plants that moved when somebody sang to them. The worst was when she told the neighbors that she was visiting this world. This place that, according to her wasn’t exactly Earth.”

  “Still not seeing the connection between you freelancing a murder case, which I have all kinds of questions about why you need the side work, and your mother’s stories about flying things.”

  “That’s right, she did talk about some kind of flying creatures, didn’t she? Can’t remember what she called those.”

  “Did your mom know this archaeologist?”

  “No,” said Leira, shaking her head. Best to get this part over with. “I’ve been there. It’s called Oriceran. I’ve actually only seen a small part of the planet. The Light Elves, they’re the ones who asked me to help with the investigation. Queen Saria’s son was murdered because someone helped Bill Somers into what’s usually an invisible castle and even worse, into a room that held some kind of relic. A very powerful relic.”

  Hagan’s mouth was open slightly, as if he wanted to say something but no sound was coming out. “This isn’t funny, Berens,” he said finally. “You’re killing my sugar buzz, you know.”

  “Let me tell you the rest of it, first,” she replied. “Then you get to call me crazy.”

  “I don’t need to hear the rest of it and in fact, it’s better if I don’t. I can’t testify at your hearing that way. Uh, look at what you’ve gone and done,” he said, rubbing his stomach. “Damn that acid reflux.”

  “The Light Elves needed me to find Somers because magic won’t work on this side. At least, not well enough. It gets worse.”

  “Of course it does.”

  “The clock is ticking. There are only a few more days before this thing will release its energy to whoever has it. Somers could get even more powerful than he already is just by having the thing.”

  “Great! Help, I’m trapped in a Marvel comic and can’t get out,” said Hagan, holding up his hands. He caught something out of the corner of his eye and started scrambling to get out of the car. “Perfect timing, as usual. There’s our guy. Can you hold off on any more magic stories for the few minutes it’ll take to grab this guy?”

  Leira ignored the jab and opened her door, forgetting for the moment about the troll curled up in her pocket.

  “Sam Thomas?” Hagan smiled, calling out in a friendly voice to the tall, lanky young man with long dark hair, as he walked quickly toward him. “Just wanted a word… damn!” Thomas took one long look, first at Hagan and then Leira and bolted, doing a nice one-handed vault over the railing between the apartment buildings to the parking lot on the far side. “Hate the rabbits!”

  “Go around,” Leira shouted to Hagan.

  “Was there any doubt?” he said, heading around the tall, neatly-trimmed shrubs.

  Leira made the same easy vault, pushing off the flimsy, painted metal railing and hitting the ground running, easily closing the gap. Thomas took a couple of glances backward, his eyes growing wider with panic as Leira pulled up behind him.

  “Stop or I tackle you!” she shouted. “You know it’s coming,”

  Thomas seemed to be weighing his choices, slowing his pace. Leira matched it, keeping a short distance between them, waiting to see what he would do next.

  She didn’t feel the small troll drop out of her pocket, landing on one knee on the ground. He scampered for a nearby oak tree, scurrying up and into the branches where he could watch what was happening.

  Thomas pulled up, breathing hard. “You’re making the right decision, Thomas. You’re not in any trouble. We just want to talk to you about the Leahy murder.” Leira kept her hand near her gun, ready in case things went south.

  Things went south way too often.

  She saw where Thomas was looking, at a nearby metal pipe lying on the ground.

  “Don’t do it, T
homas. I’m faster than you, and I have a gun. Besides, right now, you’re not in any trouble. My partner is coming around that corner and we’re going to have a friendly chat. That’s all. You didn’t have anything to do with that murder, right? Oh shit!”

  Thomas lunged for the pipe and Leira drew her gun.

  A roar erupted out of the nearby tree just as Hagan rounded the corner, catching everyone off guard and for Leira, time seemed to slow down. The troll leaped from a high branch and as he fell toward the ground he was growing, stretching, reaching eight feet tall.

  Thomas grabbed the pipe, raising it over his head, shaking it first at Leira and then at the giant troll.

  Leira quickly patted down her pocket, wondering if it was possible that a second troll had made its way to Earth, but no, her pocket was empty.

  This was her troll. Pissed off and hopping mad.

  The troll stomped first one foot and then the other, breaking off a large branch of the tree and beating the ground.

  “Fuck! Yum! Fuck! Yum!” The words came out in a low, threatening rumble.

  Leira shot a glance at the large troll. “We really need to work on your vocabulary,” she told it.

  “Fuck! Yum! Fuck! Yum!” said the troll, as it covered the ground between them faster than Leira would have thought possible, grabbing the metal pipe with Thomas still hanging onto the other end. The ground shook as he stomped his feet.

  The troll swung the pipe around, pulling Thomas like he was on a carnival ride, his legs flying out behind him, shrieking like a toddler.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” Leira yelled, getting between her partner and the troll. Detective Hagan had his gun raised, looking for a chance to shoot at the troll without hitting Thomas.

  Leira turned and looked at the troll and resisted the urge to yell at him. He can grow Mothra big, thought Leira. Need to relax. Now.

  She stood still, watching Thomas swing around again and willed herself to be calm. The troll slowed down and looked at her, shrinking, finally dropping Thomas. The pipe clattered to the ground and rolled away. Thomas passed out cold with a wet stain spreading on his pant leg.

  Hagan was still pointing his gun at the troll, his arm dropping as the troll shrunk back to its normal size. Leira kept her eyes on the troll, trying to stay calm. The troll finished shrinking, then ran to her and neatly climbed up her pant leg, crawling up the outside of her jacket and ending up in her jacket pocket.

  “You can put your gun down now, Felix,” Leira said, soothingly. She rarely used his first name, but he was pointing his Glock right at her, his mouth agape and his face flushed with sweat.

  “What the fuck was that thing?” he said hoarsely, finally put away his gun. “Is Thomas okay?” He went to Thomas, still keeping his eye on Leira’s pocket as he knelt down and felt for a pulse. Thomas groaned and jerked as he slowly came to.

  “I wouldn’t mention what just happened to him,” said Leira. “Let him think it was a hallucination. Give me a chance to tell you the whole story. Remember, you said you could handle the truth.”

  “Regular truth, Leira. Ordinary kinds of truth.”

  “So what? You’ll have to change your definition of ordinary. Come on, let’s get him up.” She told him and walked over to Thomas.

  “How were you able to get that thing to shrink back down? And why does it think you’re home base?” Hagan asked.

  “All good questions that I will answer.”

  He made a face. “Answer the first one, at least.”

  “Okay, okay,” she said. She tapped Thomas’ face, hard, trying to get him to fully conscious. “As far as I can tell, it’s tied to my emotions.”

  “You mean it responds to what we feel?” asked Hagan, his eyes getting wider.

  “What I feel. It’s tied to me. I can’t say why until we get back to the car and I can tell you the whole story.”

  “Your… feelings?” said Hagan, drawing out each word. “Then,” he snorted, “we’re all fucked!” He looked at her, a glint in his eye. “Unless anger comes in handy!”

  “Very funny.” She gave him the dead fish stare, ignoring that she’d had the same thought earlier that morning. “I can do feelings.”

  “Like I said, fucked. This story I cannot wait to hear. What the hell is happening?”

  “My mother isn’t crazy. That’s what’s happening. That and an entire Wikipedia of magical shit.”

  “That’s deep,” said Hagan, straining to pull Thomas up into a seated position. “We need to figure out a way to get her out.”

  “First things first. And first, I need to find Bill Somers and I only have a few days left to do it before something bad might happen.”

  “Bad like what, like large roaring monsters?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

  “I don’t exactly know,” she admitted.

  “What the hell?” said Thomas, his eyes opening. There was a trail of spittle on the side of his face, running back into his thick hair. His voice was whiny and sounded hoarse from screaming. “Did you see that?” he asked, looking from Hagan to Leira.

  “This is not going to help his credibility as a witness,” Leira observed.

  “See what?” Hagan asked, moving to block Thomas’ view of the tree.

  “You must have hit your head when I tackled you. Shouldn’t have gone for the pipe. I told you so.” Leira helped him to his feet and put the zip ties on him. “Love me some zip ties in the morning!”

  They loaded Thomas into the back of the Mustang, still babbling about the monster with the bright green hair, and drove him to the hospital to get checked out, just in case. When the attendants in the ER asked about the hallucinations they both shrugged and repeated their theory that he must have hit his head.

  “Buy you more coffee?” asked Leira, as they passed the cafeteria. “Still have a few doughnuts left in the car.”

  “It’s hospital coffee, but I’ll take it. Have to do in a pinch. You good with Mickey there, in your pocket?” he asked, flapping a hand in the general direction of her jacket.

  “Yeah, we’re good, at least for now. I’m not really sure what the rules are for it. It’s called a troll. Why Mickey?”

  “That life-size mouse always scared the beejezus out of me. Frozen face, dancing around. Still, it’s trying to be friendly. Seemed to fit.”

  They turned into the large open cafeteria with long tables and low, round seats that were permanently connected.

  Leira gave a shudder. “Reminds me of visits to my mom.” She shook her head to clear the thought and made a beeline for the self-serve coffee.

  “Reminds me of being in seventh grade,” Hagan countered, making an attempt to lighten the mood. “Don’t say it. Yes, I can remember back that far.”

  “I was going to say, yours is probably closer to PTSD.”

  “Definitely. Believe it or not, I was a small, nerdish version of myself. It did not go over big.”

  “Two large coffees,” said Leira, handing over her debit card. “Come on, we should get going. I’ll tell you what I can in the car on the way to the station. You still want to drive?”

  “Nah, let’s get the coffee and you drive. I’ve had enough excitement for the next hour or two. Whew, should sip this slowly.” He tried for another sip. “Ooh, hot stuff, hot stuff!”

  She eyed him. “There’s no rush, you know.”

  “Oh, but it’s coffee, and time’s flying by.” They stepped out into the warm winter air that was typical for Austin. The temperature had dipped to just below seventy degrees.

  Once they were settled in the front seat, Hagan took a large gulp of his coffee, complaining, “Hot, hot, hot… But good.” Another thing he liked to say all the time.

  Leira started up the car. The violet ball stirred in its hiding place, pulsing with yellow light in the very center.

  “Tell me everything,” said Hagan.

  “You sure? Last chance,” she asked as they pulled out into the street.

  “If I can handle a giant Mi
ckey jumping out of a tree and using a big-ass tree branch like a toothpick, I can handle whatever truth you got.” He took another sip and smiled. “Bring it on.”

  She made it through a yellow light. “I was minding my own business when a hole opened up in the universe and these two Light Elves stepped through and asked me for help.”

  He turned to look at her, his coffee forgotten for a moment. “No shit!?”

  “That’s only the beginning of this story.”

  Chapter Nine

  Bill Somers was pleading again. It was one of his worst traits, even he knew it. But he couldn’t help himself. Everything he had been researching for years was real and soon he would have the proof.

  “You don’t understand.” He was pacing back and forth, waving his hands around, wearing his usual uniform of a t-shirt and jeans and high-top sneakers. Today’s t-shirt had the words ‘Don’t be a’ with different elements of the periodic table below that were used to spell out ‘HAtEr.’

  “This isn’t a simple necklace.” He ran his hand nervously through his hair.

  Dean Muston, the chair of the History Department at the University of Chicago, Illinois who had been at the university for as long as anyone could remember, was bored and annoyed. He dangled the heavy gold necklace over two fingers as the lavender stone, carved into a diamond-shape with an ‘O’ inscribed in the center swung back and forth.

  A younger professor, Richard Randolph, sat nearby at a long table cluttered with unfurled maps and research books. Only the wooden legs were visible underneath all of Somers’ research.

  Randolph was trying to give Somers encouraging looks but he knew it wasn’t going well and only managed to wince, alternating occasionally with a pained smile.

  “Clearly,” said Dean Muston. “The gold alone has to be worth something. I’m not so sure about this stone. It’s far too gaudy for my taste but live and let live.”