by Martha Carr
“I did not know this place was here,” said Taylor, his chin up, looking at the ceiling as he did a quick turn, even as he followed Winters. Maggie saw the orange El Camino and brushed her hands across the chrome on the front of the shiny hood, earning a raised eyebrow from the curator. She gave him a thin smile and lifted her hand. “Something about an El Camino,” she said. “Practical, unique and still beautiful.”
“Indeed,” said Winters, as they crossed the rest of the distance past a large car with an oversized dashboard full of buttons and several brass horns attached at the top. “Leave it!” He pointed a finger in the air, anticipating Taylor’s next move.
Taylor let out a sigh and a shrug. He walked past a tricked out red Model-T. “Now, this is a great hobby.”
“Still too much work.” Maggie followed Winters down the back wall till they got to a back door.
“I almost missed it. Your forensic people tried to get a fingerprint, but they didn’t look very happy.” He pointed to a gummy residue left around the lock.
“Simon.” The two detectives spoke at once.
“No worries, he always looks like that. It’s his resting work face.”
Winters folded his arms in front of his chest. “That explains a lot. Wouldn’t answer a single question. He pulled some out of the lock too. Looked like someone was making an impression with some kind of rubber material.”
“Why on the inside?” Maggie said quietly. She leaned down and looked closer. There was a tingle across the back of her neck, but she ignored it. That always happened when she was close to an interesting clue. Not everything is about a so-called pea.
Frank opened the door and pointed to the right by a neatly kept brick patio. “There’s a footprint out back. Seems like a blunder for someone who got past sophisticated security measures.” He held up his hand, shaking his head. “Not one of my people. We sweep the back every night. Whoever left that came in after we were all gone.”
“Not much to go on. Can we get a look at your security footage?”
“Of course, the monitors are in my office. Follow me.” He took a step but spun back around, doing a tight pirouette on his heel. “But no touching.” He fixed a steely glare at Taylor who held up his hands.
The office was a small space only big enough to hold a desk and a few chairs, and the monitors against the wall made the space even tighter. Maggie waited for Winters to show the footage from the last night but had to slide past Winters to get closer to the monitor. The back of her neck tingled, sending a shiver down her spine, and she could feel her pocket holding the compass warming up. She glanced up at Winters’ face, her hands on her hips and took in every detail about him. Something is off.
The smell of tobacco was even stronger with him standing so close to her. Vanilla and bourbon. That had been one of her father’s favorite blends too. Still, it was only making her trust him less.
Winters had taken a position behind Maggie, pushing Taylor almost to the wall near the farthest monitor where he squeezed into a chair. Maggie saw a small tattoo of four small stars in a random pattern on the inside of his wrist poking out of his sleeve. Winters noticed and pulled his sleeve down, covering the tattoo. She tilted her head, narrowing her gaze.
He spread his feet, taking a stronger stance and crossed his arms over his chest, muttering something.
“What was that?” Maggie couldn’t make it out.
“Just clearing my throat. A lot of pollen in the air today.”
“Sure…” Maggie stayed standing behind the other chair. She saw how they were caught in the narrow space but still couldn’t imagine one man could hope to threaten two well-armed detectives. She felt her neck tingle again and a cool sensation pass through her brain, making it easier for her to size up the situation. Flashes of the room went through her mind, showing her what the room looked like from different angles, down to the details.
She kept her gaze on Winters, her lips pressed together in a straight line and let the images rapidly roll past. “You can wait outside.” She said it as a command instead of a courtesy, making Taylor look up in surprise, concern passing over his face. Her fingers were tapping the top of her gun, her arm tense. “We’ve got it from here.”
“Of course,” said Winters, backing away. Maggie noted that he didn’t look surprised at all.
“It’s a trap,” she said in a hushed tone to Taylor just before Winters took only a step back and cupped his hands in front of his chest, muttering something again, still too low to be heard.
“What kind of mumbo jumbo is he saying? He must be from Louisiana. I have folks from those parts. Can’t understand a dang thing they say, either.” Taylor shoved the chair back, hitting the desk and stood up, already drawing his gun. “Something’s just not right here.”
That was all he got out.
A dark blue bubble had formed in the curator’s hands, filled with small bolts of lightning that grew as the bubble did, flashing and sparking. The sickly sweet smell of lavender was everywhere.
“What in the Sam Hill?” Taylor held up his gun, flanking Maggie to the right.
Maggie was bracing herself, not sure what was coming next. “Bernie, I could use an assist.”
Taylor’s brows knit together. “Bernie? Is that a safe word I don’t know about?”
The storm grew inside the bubble, even as the bubble stretched until it was three feet wide, suddenly bursting and sending a shock wave, pulsating at the two detectives.
Maggie felt it hit her with a loud snap followed by crackling, lifting her off her feet. It all felt like it was happening in slow motion.
The wave of energy pushed her back, bending her even as she resisted. She hit the back wall, knocking her head against the plaster as Taylor took out a monitor with his shoulder, rolling onto the table before hitting the floor. His gun was knocked out of his hand and he rested his head against the carpet, his eyes not focused on anything in particular.
Maggie slid down the wall, her hand clamping over her pocket, the wind knocked out of her and the air around her shimmering like blacktop on a hot summer day in Austin. Maggie reached for her gun and squinted through the pain and the thick, vibrating air, doing her best to aim at the curator who was busy constructing another bubble. She got off a shot, winging his right arm and bursting the bubble.
He let out a squeal even as the second wave of energy passed over her, weaker than the first but still enough to make her groggy. “Get up, get up!” She gritted her teeth and willed herself to get on her knees, putting out one foot and slapping her hand on the desk, leaning heavily as she shoved herself to a standing position. The gun still drawn in her other hand.
Winters opened his mouth and blew out a series of translucent bubbles as small metal balls appeared inside of them. The bubbles lined up quickly and started shooting at Maggie’s direction, bursting as they hit her in the chest, the metal balls pushing her back down to a seated position on the floor and stunning her just enough to lose her grip on her gun.
She rolled on her side, pressing the compass against the floor, feeling the warmth through her pocket. It seemed to be warning her of something more.
Winters saw his chance and peeled Maggie’s fingers back, wrestling away the gun. She clawed at his hand, straining to regain control, eliciting another yelp from him.
He pointed it at her head, swinging it back toward Taylor who was out cold and back at Maggie. There was a sheen of sweat across his face. “I have orders not to harm you. Well, nothing permanent at least. You have to realize, someone like you, that this is for the best. For our best, for all of humanity. We have to make sure the ship goes back to where it came from and we can all go back to paradise.”
Maggie did her best to sit back up, feeling like she was high on something as the electric pulse still sizzled around her. “Why is it that comic book villains always have to lay out their plans? Where’s the power point? I’m gonna need slides.” Her words came out slightly slurred but determined.
Wi
nters shook his head, annoyed. “Make jokes but it has to be done. Hand it over, come on.” He held out his hand, shaking it, his voice cracking from the nerves.
Taylor was pushing himself into a seated position, slowly reaching for his gun a short distance away on the floor but Winters saw him and kicked the gun away. Maggie pushed against the wall, her teeth grinding from the effort. She could taste blood in her mouth, even as the room seemed to spin. Damn, is it really spinning?
“You know what I’m here for, just give it to me.” Winters’ voice sounded like a whine from a petulant, hairy-faced child.
“You want it, you come and get it,” Maggie hissed, already balling up her fist. Winters seemed confused about what to do next, but he put the gun down as far from the two detectives as he could and blew out small bubbles that floated in the air between himself and Maggie. His wounded right arm hung at his side.
Maggie felt the cool trickle pass through her brain again, calming her down and she let her muscles relax. It felt like she was following instructions being given to her from someplace deep inside. Still, her hand was clenched by her side, waiting.
Watch the bubbles. You can do this. That’s when she saw the pattern. They’re alive! Not just air and liquid.
The bubbles moved and bobbed and swirled as Maggie did her best to focus her eyes and look for the pockets. One, two, three, turns, three four five, turns.
He reached out to search her just as she swung, picking her moment, her fist diving between the bubbles and making contact with his chin, sending him back. There was a surprised look on his face as his teeth clacked together and his head bobbed. The bubbles between them swirled into a chaotic ball, looking more like soap bubbles clinging to each other, a grey mist appearing inside of each one.
“No! Enough!” Winters spit out the words, cradling his jaw gingerly. The bubbles responded and broke apart, forming a thick, straight line, swiftly moving through the air and wrapping around Maggie’s throat, squeezing tighter and tighter cutting off air.
She gagged, reaching up to crush the bubbles but instead felt a sharp sting. “Rule 54,” she gasped. Still, she persisted, crushing them even as more appeared. Winters slipped in, patting her pockets and easily found the compass.
Maggie heard the sizzle as the compass burned his skin and smelled the acrid air. He pulled his hand back, his face twisted in pain as the rage built inside of him. He quickly pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped it around his hand, using his teeth to get it all the way around.
“Not… gonna… happen…” Maggie gasped out the words, determined to keep fighting even as the world grew darker.
Taylor got to his knees, his eyes still not completely focused and lunged for Winters who placed his heel in the center of Taylor’s chest and shoved him backward.
He wasted no time dipping his hands back into Maggie’s pocket even as her eyes started to roll back in her head, scooping out the compass. He ran for the door even as the bubbles already started to fade and pop against her skin and she gulped for air, struggling to stay awake, watching Winters escape.
She had lost the compass.
“Taylor, are you okay?”
He raised his hand in the air and smiled grimly, trying to reassure her. “What the hell was that?”
“A new kind of reality.”
“You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”
“I’ll do my best, but I’m not sure I get any of it yet, either.”
“Were we just attacked by freakin’ killer bubbles? You can do the paperwork for this one.” Taylor got himself to a seated position and rubbed the back of his neck, groaning. “On second thought, you aren’t one for bending the truth and this could get us sidelined. I’ll take care of it.”
“You do that.” I’ll be hunting that compass.
Frank Winters wasted no time rushing across town to the Galaxy Cafe on the west side of town. He parked his car in the crowded parking lot by the karate studio and did his best to walk in like nothing was amiss. He had managed to stop the bleeding from his arm, the bullet had gone through and through and he still had the handkerchief wrapped around his burned hand.
He held his phone in his burned hand, considering calling Simon again, but he didn’t want to anger him. He had said he didn’t care, just drop off the compass and then take care of things. Winters had barely enough time to change his jacket into something that lacked bloodstains.
Simon liked his routine and there was very little that could get him to veer from it.
The Galaxy Cafe was part of his routine. Twice a week for an early dinner. It was one of Simon’s favorite haunts. He liked to sit by the window and eat his favorite, a Buddha bowl. Steamed kale, lentils, sweet potato and brown rice. It was his idea of fast food. On days he was feeling good he’d even add a little hot sauce.
Frank came bustling inside, pushing past someone holding the door with his right hand resting in his pocket to give his arm some support. The pain was giving him a headache. He came and stood by the table, not sure what to do.
“Sit down, you’re attracting attention.” Simon looked up, a flicker of annoyance across his face. “Let me see it.”
Winters slid into the chair and gingerly pulled out the compass. It had cooled and was easier to handle but the skin on his palm was blistered and it was painful to do anything with it. Simon watched him, taking it all in, assessing the situation like any good forensics specialist. He opened his hand and waited for Winters to drop the compass into it, almost smiling when at last, he had it. “This one small piece of machinery is key to everything.” He held it closer, looking at the five needles, admiring everything about it. “Elementa invenient me. Ostende mihi viam. Ignis ventus aqua terra.” Find me the elements. Show me the path. Fire wind water earth. He waited anxiously, eager to finally get answers, but the compass just sat there, the needles swinging loosely in the case. He held the compass gently in his hand, shaking with anger as he resisted the urge to smash it against the tabletop. “Damn it!” he hissed under his breath.
“What’s wrong? Did I get the wrong thing?” Winters was breathing heavily, his bandaged hand wrapped around a cold glass of water.
“Believe it or not, not everything is about you, Frank. It appears we only got half of what we needed. It’s going to take the damn Elemental to make the pretty toy work. I’m going to have to get Maggie Parker to assist or die trying. Found the compass, still need to save the world.”
“That’s not going to be easy. She has trust issues.”
“She just needs persuading, of one kind or another. It can’t be helped. We’re going to do whatever it takes for the greater good.”
Chapter Nine
Maggie drove Taylor home, he had refused to go to the hospital. He said it would be too hard to explain. “Besides, two cops walking into an emergency room would draw too much attention. The Captain would find out in no time and want to know what happened. Let me sleep it off and then I can come up with a plausible explanation.”
“Great, then you can tell me.”
Taylor looked over at Maggie trying to gingerly hold the wheel despite her swollen fingertips. “I assume you have your own reasons for not heading to the hospital.”
“About the same as yours.”
“And a few more?”
Maggie shrugged, too tired and aching all over to come up with something clever.
She waited till he climbed wearily out of the car and up his front walk while Claire, his wife waited at the door, a look of concern on her face.
She watched him shake his head and attempt to shrug as he made his way inside and Lanie waved to Maggie before shutting the door.
“I have no idea how to explain this one,” she whispered, pulling slowly away from the curb.
What hurt even worse was losing the compass. Maggie didn’t like losing on a typical day with much lower stakes. “I don’t even know what the stakes are in this game. That needs to change,” she muttered, wincing as a car cut in front of h
er and she cut the wheel to avoid their back bumper, the blisters on her fingers making contact with the steering wheel.
Bubbles appeared across the highway floating and bobbing gently. Faces in the other cars were smiling and pointing, admiring how the sunlight was creating small rainbows inside of them. Only Maggie was grimacing and narrowing her gaze, bracing herself for whatever might come next. She could smell strawberries everywhere.
The wind seemed to blow the bubbles back toward her car, surrounding it before getting sucked into the front of the grill. They came pouring out of every crack in the dashboard, gathering together and reconstituting themselves on the seat next to her.
“Son of a…” Maggie yelled out, whipping the wheel to the right, trying to get to the side of the road, even as she cried out in pain. A pale image appeared inside of the bubbles as Maggie brought the car to a stop, even as a white Hyundai blew its horn, angrily shaking his hand over his head as he sped past her.
Maggie lunged at the bubbles, not giving them a chance to fully form, ignoring rule number 54 and risking further injury, but it was too late. Bernie was sitting there in the seat, sputtering as he fended off her attack, his eyes wide. He swatted at her hands, startled as she pulled back in pain.
“What the hell happened? You were out of my sight for less than a day.” He slapped his forehead, exasperated as he took in her entire appearance.
“You should see the other guy.” She made a weak smile, leaning on the steering wheel for a moment, closing her eyes as she let out a deep sigh. The day had started with a bullet headed toward her forehead with a side trip to Narnia and was bookended neatly in a magical fight with choking bubbles. She lifted her head and looked him straight in the eyes. “I lost the compass.” Maggie was never one to avoid anything. “I don’t even know who or what he was. Not a Kashgar, at least he didn’t look like a gnome, no offense.”