The Elemental's Magic

by Martha Carr

  Iliad stood up slowly, his face pulled down in anger. "You were one of my favorites as a child. I held great promise for you, despite your parentage." He put his hand over his eyes for a moment, his chin tucked down, and looked up slowly, leaning across the table. "You leave me no choice. You're too much of a risk to us. You know too much. Take him to the Barton prison."

  The two employees who had been brought in from the store above them rushed forward to take hold of Jake, pinning his arms to his side and pulling him to his feet. The noise level grew in the room as some backed away from the scuffle near the front and others leaned in to get a better look.

  Bernie watched in horror, not sure what to do. "Rescue him, yeah, dammit. Who knew? I'd have to help a half Kashgar today."

  "Wait!" Jake pulled against his captors, twisting back so he could look directly at Iliad. "I didn't say that was all I knew."

  Iliad looked at Jake, measuring what he said and held up his arm for silence. It was a mark of the respect that he commanded that the room fell silent at once. "Let him go," he said in his deep baritone.

  The men holding him let go but didn't go far, glaring at Jake as he took his seat again. "I do know of an Elemental."

  Bernie pressed his furry face against the crack in the door to get a better look, his anger rising. "Kashgar blood always shows itself," he whispered.

  "I heard of the Dirt Elemental and that he's the keeper of the right entrance to the machinery. He's living in the side of a hill surrounded by an ancient stand of trees."

  Bernie scratched the door with his claws, chittering and gnashing his teeth. Daylight streamed in next to him and he jumped back into the shadows as more Kashgars came down the stairs. He saw his chance and scurried back up to the top, dashing out between them. A Kashgar startled, raising his boot to kick Bernie in the ribs, barely missing.

  "Tall bastards!" hissed Bernie as he ducked under the scrawny bushes, running down the alley. He would have to get his favorite overalls later.

  Jake held his breath in his chest, his hands resting on his knees but his head up. He was doing his best to look calm, but it was a struggle.

  Iliad waited till the Kashgars entering the chamber found a seat in the back and settled down. He shook his head, disappointed, his lips pressed together. "The Dirt Elemental is already known to us. Someone has done a much better and faster job than you, grandson."

  The Kashgars on either side of him grinned, the skinny young man licking his lips.

  "I told you all along that my daughter could only protect you for so long. I'm afraid you have run out of rope." He sat down, refusing to look at Jake. "Take him away," he said, gesturing with his hand.

  "No, you can't!" Jake pulled away and punched the younger man square in the face, breaking his nose, sending a stream of blood down his chin. He conjured a stream of bubbles, sending them at the next man's head, burning him everywhere they landed. He was already spitting out another stream of bubbles, kicking his heel hard against the knee of the older and larger man when a solid, silver bubble hit him square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him violently to the polished cement floor.

  The young man kicked him hard in the ribs before planting his foot squarely on his chest. Iliad came from around the table and looked down at his grandson. "I admire your optimism that you could fight your way out of here. It will leave me with a better memory of you."

  He looked away for a moment, turning back, a smile playing across his lips. "Unless you want to tell me about the girl?"

  Jake used the last little bit of air he was able to suck into his chest. "Burn in hell."

  "You can save me a seat." Iliad stepped back as the others descended, grabbing at Jake and lifting him up before he could get another deep breath in his lungs. He gasped, pulling in air, trying to get out a spell but it was too late. Iliad had gone first and sent out a bubble that melted around him, paralyzing his muscles till he could barely breathe at all. He felt his heart rate slow down as the room went dark and they dragged him off to Barton Prison.

  7

  Maggie rolled up in the El Camino parking just outside the cluster of black and white police cars. She was parked near the ten-foot-high silver letters that spelled out Easton Park in a new subdivision that had been carved out of an old ranch. Now there were rows of houses clustered around a park. Across William Cannon Road the old pecan trees had been stripped away and new two-story condos were standing in neat little rows resembling something dreamed up by Dr. Seuss in various shades of green, grey and blue.

  Maggie got out of the car and walked over, scanning the crowd for her partner and for anything that seemed out of place. She spotted Taylor standing near a front-end loader, one hand on his hip, pushing his jacket open despite the cold. It was his usual stance when he didn't like what he was hearing. She walked closer and could hear the annoyance in his voice as he jabbed the air with his finger.

  "You mean to tell me that the copper has been stolen clean out of that row of houses but there's no walls torn down? You care to explain how that's possible?"

  Maggie stopped short, a cold chill passing through her as a hum danced across the back of her neck. She lifted her chin and smelled the air. Roses, that's new.

  The contractor shrugged his shoulders and pointed at the houses, frustrated as he clutched an iPad in his other hand. "It's not my job to know how they did it. We have five houses that were ready for inspection. All of them already sold! Now we have to tear down sheetrock and refit them all. I don't even know how far it goes yet but I've never seen anything like this." He shook his head. "Why would a bunch of copper be worth this much trouble? I mean, something like this takes a little sophistication, some effort. Doesn't make sense. Are you done with me for now? I have to see about getting the repairs started."

  "Sure, but don't touch anything till we're done with the scene."

  Maggie waited until the man had walked away, still grumbling. "Did you learn anything?"

  "Yeah, this city has the right slogan. It just keeps getting weirder. Have you been inside yet?"

  The wind picked up, blowing across the back of Maggie's neck, only making her senses heighten. The smell of roses was everywhere. "No, I just got here."

  "You have to see this to get the full impression of what happened. Follow me." Taylor marched off, clutching his iPad and Maggie furrowed her brow, looking around at the building crew but went after him, digging her cold hands into her pockets. They went into a tall, skinny blue house with an uneven roof, passing through a short hallway into the living room.

  Maggie looked around, puzzled. "Nothing's out of place. There's that small hole in the wall but that's it."

  "Yeah, that's a bigger part of the problem." Taylor picked up the long, thin cable and pushed it into the hole in the wall. He turned on a monitor nearby and waited for the picture to become clear. "Look at this."

  Maggie approached and looked over his shoulder as Taylor used the controls to move the head of the cable right to left. "What do you see?"

  "Nothing at all. I'm not much of a builder but there should be wiring, right?"

  Taylor tilted his head to the side, glaring at her.

  "Okay, I didn't know. Every wall should have some kind of wiring?"

  "Not every, but definitely this one and plenty of it, and there's nothing. Here's the thing. This hole was made by the builder when the electrical stopped working. That's how he found the problem." Taylor counted the issues on his fingers. "No one saw anything, no fingerprints or anything else we can use was left behind, and there's no damage besides the missing wires." He was breathing harder, his nose flaring and his chest rising and falling. Maggie put her hand on his shoulder.

  "Are you okay? You need to take a seat? Did you come back too soon?" She knew it was too much as soon as she said it. He yanked away from her and waved his arms, working himself up into a fight.

  "I'm more than okay. I was checked out before they let me come back and you know that." He spit out eve
ry word.

  "You're right, my bad. But you're getting a little worked up there, Taylor."

  His eyes widened even as he lowered his voice. "You know what this is. It's more of that magic, but they're getting bolder. At least before they were trying to act like it was your standard robbery, but apparently all bets are off. Did you hear about the giant sinkhole that opened up this morning on the West side? Swallowed half a house. Those houses sit on limestone. How does a sinkhole appear? Magic is running amok and the criminals don't even care anymore if us average Peabrains know. Tell me, how do we catch perps who can use magic any time they want?"

  "The way we always have... and maybe with a little magic thrown in of our own." Maggie instinctively tapped her fingers lightly on the top of her holstered gun. "We do it together, as a team. We'll catch them."

  "Oh yeah, well I'm not one of those woke Peabrains. I'm still the old-fashioned variety and all I've got is twenty-five years of experience on the job."

  "That is more than enough. You're looking at this from the wrong angle."

  "Enlighten me." He turned off the switch to the monitor and pulled the cable out of the wall.

  "Think about it like new technology that no one is used to yet. We don't know all it can do or how to corral it, but we assume that eventually we'll catch on to both of those things. This is the same. Magic isn't perfect. Don't know if you've seen my dog yet and I ended up in the middle of Barton Creek pool once. That means it has limitations, flaws. And in the end, it's still some kind of magical something who has a motive for what they're doing. Figure out the motive, find the magicals, solve the crime." She tilted her head to the side, giving him a crooked smile. "Now taking them into custody may be extra special."

  Taylor took in a deep breath, puffing up his cheeks as he blew it out. "The Snapchat mystifies me and now I'm supposed to deal with deadly bubbles. Bubbles..."

  "Guns still work and I'm learning how to use bubbles to help us. Come on, let's get out of here. Something tells me the weird string of robberies, this one included, are all connected. I don't know how yet, but someone is collecting things with a reason in mind."

  "We figure out the reason..."

  "Maybe we can show up ahead of them the next time. It's a long shot but you like playing the spread."

  "You do know how to sweet talk me."

  8

  Bernie scurried down the alley back toward 30th Street, tripping over the sweater and falling face first onto the pavement. "Oooof." He rolled over, scooping up the sweater into a paw and moving his jaw around to make sure he was okay. He walked the rest of the way, holding up the sweater, pushing up the sleeves till he was almost at the end of the block. He stopped just short at the last building and ducked behind the large blue dumpsters outside an old apartment building. "Here goes. I've had enough of this gig."

  He rubbed his paws together and set his intention to change back into a five-foot gnome. Bubbles spewed out of his mouth, surrounding him, sticking to his fur and sending small jolts of electricity every time one landed.

  "For the love of..." Nothing happened. He was still a raccoon. He looked down, patting his chest and his belly through the sweater, staring at his skinny legs. "This cannot be happening. Okay, calm down Bernie. Minor glitch. You're not new to this game. Try again."

  He concentrated, placing a thought out there and letting it go all at the same time. The same way he had done for thousands of years. The bubbles erupted out of him, tilting his head back and startling a young woman carrying her trash toward the dumpster. She stood there clutching her white trash bag by the red straps, staring at the raccoon in a sweater, violently spitting up large transparent bubbles. "I have to stop doing tequila shots."

  "Probably for the best," said Bernie, giving her a wink and a small wave.

  Her eyes widened and she pressed her hand against her stomach.

  "Oh no, don't do that, not here. I'm working here. If you have to get sick, find another dumpster."

  "I'm not going crazy..." she whispered.

  "I can't verify or deny that, but this isn't the crazy part for you. Maybe it's the tequila." The woman gasped as Bernie held open his paws. "Don't worry about this. It's just a fur suit. I'm really a gnome. This is just a little mishap. I'll have it cleared up soon. Move along, nothing more to see here." He flicked a paw at her, trying to snap his fingers. "I thought these were clever little beasts. What is up with these claws?"

  She kept her eyes on Bernie, slowly letting go of her trash bag and backed away, headed for the wooden stairs off the side of the building. When she got to the bottom step, she took off running.

  Bernie slapped his forehead with a paw, scratching himself in the process. "How do they do anything with these mitts?" He let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging. "She broke my concentration. Okay, once more with feeling." Bernie shook out his paws and took a few deep breaths. "Okay, okay, you got this Bernie. You're the magic man!" He set his shoulders back, rolled his head around and shut his eyes, focusing while letting everything go. "Gnome... gnome... gnooooooooome."

  The bubbles floated more slowly out of his but did the same thing as before, sticking to his skin, shocking him. He sat down on a broken plastic milk crate. "Okay, plan B. Still need to find Maggie. Maybe between the Elemental and tall, dark and in tights, the three of us can figure this out." He stood up, scratching his backside with his claws. "Ahhhh, okay, now I see what these things can do. New plan! Take me to Maggie's place." He clapped his paws together, setting a new intention and letting out more bubbles. The bubbles stuck to his fur, matting it together in places, sending out small sparks. "That is really getting old, Mother Earth! I know it's you." He shook his hands, looking up at the sky. "Yes, I'm the one who put you one over on the count, and sure I'm the one who took that wrong turn that got us here, but this is a little petty on your part. You're way bigger than this. Like planet sized bigger. Let it go already."

  He tried two more times with the same results, wearing himself out. A cat came down the alley, brushing up against the wall and stopped when it saw Bernie. "Hey, is that you Alan? You had that thing for cats a lot last year. My magic is on the fritz." The cat arched its back, the fur along its back standing up in a ridge.

  "No? My apologies," said the raccoon, taking a bow. "Keep moving, we have no beef." Bernie looked down, holding up the edge of his sweater. "How do animals walk around with all their bits hanging out? It's embarrassing." He looked over his shoulder at the dumpster and climbed up, jumping from ledge to ledge till he was at the top. "I could get used to that skill."

  He stood at the top, easily managing to balance on the thin lip of the dumpster, surveying the bags of trash below. "Aha! I spy with my little eye someone's trash that's about to be my treasure." He jumped in feet first, tearing open the plastic trash bags and letting the contents spill out. Clothes spilled out everywhere and Bernie sorted through them quickly, tossing aside an old, flowery dress, settling on a pair of cutoff shorts and a faded ZZ Top t-shirt with a couple of bleach spots on it. He took off the sweater, leaving it on the pile in the dumpster. "You were one of my favorites. I loved the green and how it brought out the hazel in my eyes, but you won’t work with this round little body."

  He picked up the shorts, admiring them from every angle and doing his best to check the pockets, his paws slipping around, tearing a seam. He finally peeked inside. "Nothing. Figures."

  He slipped into the shorts, rolling around on his back, breathing in a little to get them buttoned and pulled on the t-shirt, yanking it down. It almost covered his belly, leaving a little gray and white fur sticking out in the middle.

  "That was exhausting. Where's a little Velcro when you need it? First problem solved. Now, how do I get back to Maggie and fast? Uber is out."

  There was a loud rumble and a long squeal of metal gears turning and dumpsters being lifted into the air. Bernie peeked out from where he was standing and saw a garbage truck headed down the alley in his direction. He pulled his head back in, ponde
ring what to do and looked back out again. "Half a block to think up something." Across the alley were five plastic garbage cans on wheels lined up outside the fence of three houses. He ran across the alley to the cans and pushed them out into the middle of the alley. He jumped on top, balancing on the handle and lifted the lid, rocking back and forth on each one till they tipped over and the contents spilled out. "Hey, donuts!" A partially crushed Entemann's box covered in coffee grounds was poking out from a bag. Bernie tore the bag the rest of the way and ripped the box, finding three stale donuts left. "Who lets these things go stale?" He bit down on one, almost swallowing it whole. "Still good."

  "Hey, that damn raccoon! Look what it's doing!"

  Bernie looked up, remembering where he was and what he looked like. "Huh?" He quickly stuffed the other two donuts into his mouth, filling his cheeks and grabbed an old broom handle. He stood up, hesitating and ran straight at the county workers waving the broom handle overhead, twirling it like a baton.

  "Holy hell, the trash pandas are arming themselves!" A large muscular bald man with a thick beard planted his feet and leaned down like he was going to scoop up Bernie. "I gotcha!"

  But at the last moment, Bernie zigged to the cement base of a chain link fence, climbing up the fence and jumping onto the man's head, running down his back and digging his claws into the man's pants, holding on for dear life as he tapped him on the head with the broom handle. "That is a scream worthy of any eighth-grade girl," said Bernie, as the man yelled louder.

  "Who said that?" The driver leaned out of the truck, looking around the alley but didn't see anyone. "Stop that dancing with a raccoon on your back. Quit your kidding around and let's go!"

  "Get this demon from hell off me!" The man twirled in a circle, rushing over to the fence, trying to rub Bernie off but he wouldn't let go. The driver honked his horn, hoping the noise would scare somebody but there was no change. He shook his head in disgust and grabbed the ice scraper for good measure, getting out of the truck and jumping down to go rescue his coworker.