Midwest Magic Chronicles Box Set

by Flint Maxwell

Five more minutes! C’mon!

  “No, you did your business. Can’t trust you not to go around and pee on anyone. You’re on pee-probation.”

  Sherlock slinked back toward the porch, his head down and his ears drooping over his eyes.

  “That sad puppy dog face doesn’t work when you’re ancient, buddy.”

  If I had a middle finger, I’d use it, he replied.

  “You know what? Last time I was at Pet’s Mart, I saw adult doggy diapers. The dog on the picture looked particularly miserable. I happen to have some extra money. Why don’t I take a trip down there and pick up a few so you don’t go all fire hose on anymore Gnomes?”

  NO! You wouldn’t.

  “I would.” Maria crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

  Fine, you win again. No fun.

  “Oh, cool it. It’s normal not to pee on Gnomes, you know?”

  Says who?

  “Society.”

  Screw society. I’m a dog. I’ll pee on whatever the hell I want to pee on.

  “Then you’ll wear diapers and only pee on yourself.”

  Sherlock rolled his eyes and went into the house. Maria closed the door behind him.

  “But I will give you a treat because I’m not that much of a bitch.” She pulled a Milkbone out of the box and tossed it to him. He snatched it like he was a puppy, young and spry. “Remind me to never put another one of those in my pocket again.”

  You had one in there? Oh, man, I thought I smelled it! Figured I was just hallucinating from the Oriceran berries I ate.

  Maria’s hand came up and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re telling me you were eating berries in a strange world? You must be kidding.”

  Sherlock stifled a burp. Nope, he said, baring his teeth in what looked like a snarling grin. I eat everything, you know that.

  All she could do was shake her head. “Okay, I’m taking a nap.”

  Right, I could use one, too. We gotta get our beauty rest for our date with Joe.

  “Our date?” Maria snorted. “I think you’re gonna have to sit this one out, Sherlock.”

  What? I thought we were going to Applebee’s…you know, three for twenty bucks.

  “It’s two for twenty bucks, and hell no. I won’t have you farting, and Joe thinking it was me.”

  I’ll plug it up. Come on! Don’t let me miss out on Applebee’s.

  “I’ll bring something home for you, I promise.”

  Grumbling, Sherlock said, Fine.

  Upstairs they went, but not before Maria grabbed her cell phone off the kitchen counter. She dialed Tabby’s number. She didn’t answer. So she called Claire instead. Like usual, Claire was playing on her phone, and answered on the first ring.

  “Hello? Maria? W-T-F, are you calling me from Oriceran? Whatever cell service you have, I want!” Claire said.

  “No, no, I’m back.”

  “Did you save that village already? Damn, girl, you’re killing it.”

  “Also no,” Maria answered glumly. “Gramps wanted me to come back because he had to track down a rogue Gnome at some hardcore bar or something like that. I didn’t want to come back, but he was dead serious, and rather than piss him off, I figured I’d come back to appease him.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on,” Claire said. “Did you just say a rogue Gnome?”

  “Yep.”

  “What is life? Geez, just yesterday I was worried about missing the new season of the Kardashians, and here I am talking to one of my best friends about Gnomes and magical music boxes. Do you think I need to get my passport stamped now that I’ve been to Oriceran? Or that I need to get vaccinations or something…you know, like be quarantined for a certain number of weeks because I’ve been to alien lands?”

  “Claire, you’re rambling. But my answers are no, no, and maybe.”

  “Maybe!?”

  “Kidding. I think we’re all right. Earth and Oriceran are tied together. Family, in a way. We’ll be okay.” Maria paused. “Listen, the reason I’m calling is because I’m wondering how Tabby is doing? Does she hate me?”

  “Oh! I’m sitting with her right now!”

  “You are? Where? Her house?”

  “No, we’re in the hospital. You only left us a few hours ago. They’re just doing a routine check up.”

  Guilt washed over Maria. “But she’s okay? You didn’t tell them what happened…did you?”

  “Yeah, Maria, we told the nurses and doctors that Tab got attacked by a couple of giant spiders. Yeah, totally.”

  Maria laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little high-strung. It’s been an odd few days. Can I talk to Tabby?”

  “She’s actually sleeping right now. Doc said she can go, but the hospital beds are just so damn comfy, you know?”

  “I don’t, but speaking of beds, I’m going to find mine. I’ll text you after the date and let you know how it went.”

  It was then that Claire squeee-ed so loudly that Maria had to hold the phone away from her ear unless she wanted permanent hearing loss. The squee-ing went on for a solid twenty seconds, Maria asked, “Are you done?”

  To which Claire replied with more squee-ing.

  Finally, the line went quiet. Maria was scared to say anything for some time at the risk of more of Claire’s squee-ing.

  “Okay, okay, I’m done. Promise me one thing, Maria.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t take Sherlock on the date with you. Please.”

  Hey, I heard that! Sherlock said from the hallway. Remember I’m a dog. I have supersonic hearing.

  Maria waved him away.

  You tell Claire her invitation to Dog Prom is officially revoked.

  The phone came away from Maria’s ear. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Wait—what? What the hell is Dog Prom? You know what, never mind.” Then back to Claire, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to take him. He’s going to stay home and be a good boy…unless he wants diapers.”

  “Diapers? No, just quit feeding him bacon and eggs. It does not smell good coming out the other end.”

  The two girls broke out into uncontrollable laughter. When that subsided, they said their goodbyes, Maria asking Claire to make sure Tabby called or texted her as soon as she woke up, and Claire promising she would—but knowing Claire, she probably forgot the moment she pressed the ‘END’ button.

  Maria changed into a pair of sweats and a tank top. She took the music box out of the satchel, and hung the sword belt up on one of her bedposts.

  When she settled in to her soft mattress, and the covers were pulled snugly up to her chin, she opened the box. That sweet music played, a chorus of angels singing her to sleep. Her eyelids grew heavier, her heart rate slowed. She was only dimly aware of Sherlock jumping up on her bed and snuggling up next to her, but she wouldn’t have made him get down even he had a dead squirrel clamped between his jaws.

  Ah, home sweet home.

  “MARIA!” the voice shouted at her.

  She knew that voice. It was a friend, a friend in pain.

  Where was she? She looked around. The forest was dark and brooding, closing in on the clearing she stood in. Across the way, a dark figure moved toward her.

  Fear choked her throat. She wanted to call out and ask who it was, but she could not.

  “MARIA!”

  The figure stopped about twenty feet away. It was too dark out. She couldn't read his features.

  Then he reached a hand out toward her.

  “Maria, you have to go! He can’t slay it alone!”

  Finally she found her voice, but it came out in a croak. “Duke?”

  “Yes, Maria, it’s me.”

  “Duke, where are we? I thought you passed on. I thought you went to Heaven.”

  “I did, Maria, but I’ve come back to warn you.”

  The strength seemed to go out of her legs, causing her to wobble. She caught a nearby branch. It was ice cold to the touch.

  Was that branch this close before?

  No, she thought,
it wasn’t.

  The forest was the fear, that much she knew; or at least a representation of the fear that was closing in around her. Closer. Closer. Closer.

  “What are you warning me about?”

  “The Dragon Tongue… They have risen to the call of Rhazdon once more. What is dead may never truly die. They are there, Maria! They are there!”

  “Where?” she shouted back. “Duke! Where?”

  But it was too late. The dark, misty figure he had become began to wither away. Grains of sand caught in the wind.

  “Duke!”

  “Go, Maria! Go—”

  The worst screech Maria had ever heard—Can I even hear in a dream? Because that’s what this is, she thought, a dream—sliced through her eardrums.

  The forest, now so close to her she could feel the leaves brushing against her skin, swayed violently back and forth, as if caught in a great thunderstorm. But there was no rain, no thunder, no lighting.

  A large creature rose into the air—the source of the terrible screeching, which now bled into an earth-rumbling roar. As it extended its wings and hovered, they stretched long enough to block out the light from the two moons.

  Maria reached for her sword and found it was not there.

  Then all she saw as the creature swooped down on her were two blazing orange eyes the size of twin suns hanging in the sky…and fire.

  Chapter Eight

  She woke up screaming, soaked in her own sweat, her t-shirt and sweatpants plastered to her skin. Sherlock was at the end of the bed, on his back, his legs in the air, his paws twitching. Probably dreaming of chasing Raffins or peeing on Gnomes, she thought.

  Outside, the sun was on its way down. Fear struck her almost as hard as it had in her dream—Just a dream, that’s all it was. Thank God.

  But she shot up out of bed, causing Sherlock to jump and scream, What is it? Is it the Gnomes!? I’ll kill ‘em.

  Maria glanced at her nightstand. Her phone wasn’t there. Where did it go? Why didn’t she have a clock in her room? She jammed her arm between the nightstand and the bed. Rubber. She felt rubber on her fingertips.

  “There it is!”

  What? What? Gnomes? They followed us, the bastards. I knew it!

  She snatched it, ignoring Sherlock and saw the time. It was already 6:00 p.m.—her date was in less than an hour.

  WHAT IS IT!?

  “Sorry, Sherlock,” she said. “I thought I was late for my date.”

  Not cool, Maria. He snarled and stared at her blankly. I have to go outside, like yesterday.

  “Fine,” she said, yawning. She’d slept a good amount, but the tiredness was still present. As she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she wished she had woken up an hour earlier. To put it simply, she looked like hell…possibly worse. Let’s just say if she was, in her present state, entered into a beauty contest with Sherlock, an Arachnid, and a Gnome, she would be gunning for last place. Her hair was everywhere, the most unruly it had been in days, she had an odd, uneven tan—from what? She wasn’t sure.

  “Oh, man,” she muttered under her breath.

  Yeah, you look about as good as one of my dead squirrels, and they’ve usually been pancaked by car tires, Sherlock said as he shook his body, splattering drool all over the open door.

  “Thanks, Sherlock. You’re truly the best.”

  I know.

  “Still haven’t gotten a grasp on sarcasm, have you?”

  He ignored her and padded down the steps. Gramps still wasn’t back when she reached the landing. General Hospital or some other soap opera on the Soap Network would’ve lit up the living room, but it was as dark as the Dark Forest in there.

  Maria sighed and opened the back door. Sherlock bolted out much faster than normal.

  “Really had to go, huh?”

  She got her answer soon enough when he barely made it past the stairs before he squatted. She covered her eyes.

  Thanks for the privacy!

  “Yuck, what did you eat?”

  I wish I could say Gnome. Oh, get over it. We all do this…some of us differently than others. I know you have a stack of books you keep in the toilet room under the sink—don’t ever donate those!

  Maria’s cheeks flared red. God, letting a dog embarrass me. Truly, truly, what has my life come to?

  In the stark darkness of the kitchen, the green numbers on the stove’s digital clock stood out like a bad omen. The time was now 6:13. Time was ticking, and Joe would be there sooner than she realized. Calling Sherlock inside would be no use, Maria knew.

  “Time to call in the big guns,” she murmured under her breath.

  On top of the fridge, a red box with a cute Beagle on the front sat next to the cereal boxes. The Milkbones.

  She plucked it out of its spot between the Fruity Pebbles and Raisin Bran and turned for the door. Outside, she shook the box half of one time before Sherlock heard and took off toward the door, his tongue out, wagging and sending spit going in all directions.

  “Like taking candy from a Bloodhound,” Maria said, a smile on her face…until she realized Sherlock was coming in much too hot. “Oh, shit—”

  The breath exploded out of her as he knocked her over like a professional football player. The Milkbone box spun up in the air, hit the siding of the house, and exploded into a makeshift, dog treat piñata.

  Christmas came early this year!

  By the time Maria got up, it was too late. Sherlock had scarfed down half the box, and time was ticking on. She needed to get ready.

  “You are something else,” she said, rubbing her tailbone.

  Through a mouthful of Milkbones, Sherlock said, I’m a dog, can’t blame me.

  “I can and I just did. But when you’re bloated and feel like you weigh a million pounds, you’re on your own, Sherlock.”

  It was totally worth it.

  And just like that, he polished the rest of the box off and began chewing on the cardboard for dessert. Maria snatched it away. No way in hell was she going to come back from her date and clean up Milkbone box confetti. She just wished there was a spell for all of this or something. A flick of the wrist, and she’s Cinderella all ready to go to Prince Charming’s ball. There probably was, but if that was true, she didn’t know it…yet.

  “Guess I’ll have to do things the hard way for now.”

  Give it back!

  “Say please.”

  Pleaseeeeeeee.

  Maria went around the back of the house toward the side where their garbage cans sat until Monday morning, when the garbage truck came through the neighborhood. She threw the box in the big recycling bin with the heavy lid, while Sherlock watched with sad eyes.

  “Ugh, fine,” Maria said, and dug it out. Sherlock perked up instantly, his tail swishing pebbles side to side. “But go chew it up in the garage so I can at least sweep it up with a broom instead of having to pick out a million tiny pieces of cardboard from the carpet.”

  You’re the best!

  He ran at her again, but not as hard as before. He jumped up, his dirty paws smearing her t-shirt, which was no big deal, and he swiped her face with a flick of his slobbery tongue.

  “Yuck! Milkbone breath!”

  Better than dead squirrel breath, right?

  Maria wiped the spit away from her cheek and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  Upstairs, Maria tried to tame her wild hair. It just wasn’t working. Firstly, she’d never really been on a date before. Of course, there was that time in eighth grade when she went to the Formal Dance with Bobby Hart, but they’d arrived separately, hadn’t matched her dress to his tie, and only danced once throughout the night—at an arm’s length away, thanks to Mr. Ross and his flashlight, scanning the dark gym floor for any signs of handsiness. So that didn’t really count.

  Man, that’s sad, she thought. I haven’t had a boyfriend since I was like thirteen. What the hell is wrong with me?

  She looked in the mirror, noting the wild brown hair and her tired e
yes.

  “A lot, apparently,” she answered herself.

  With the brush, she tried to get through her locks again. No luck. In fact, the movement had sent some bristles to their deathbed.

  She shook her head, the brush still stuck in her hair. “Time to call in the big guns…part two.”

  She grabbed her phone and called Claire, but not before she saw a text message from Tabby that read: Doing better…next time we go to Oriceran, I’m bringing a big ass can of Raid, which made Maria chuckle.

  Once Claire picked up the phone, Maria only had to say two words: “Fashion emergency.”

  And Claire answered with, “On my way.”

  Five minutes later, Sherlock was barking in the garage, and Claire was knocking on the door.

  “Wow, record time,” Maria whispered, then added a, “Thank God” for good measure.

  The brush was still in her hair as she went down the steps. It smacked against the side of her face a few times before she even realized it was there, and she was not fast enough getting it out before Claire took it on herself to come in.

  Maria froze halfway down the hall as Claire looked her over, her hand coming up to her face to hide her laughter.

  “When did you get a key?” Maria asked.

  Through the laughter, Claire said, “I’ve known you pretty much my whole life. Don’t act like I don’t know that your grandpa hides a spare key at the bottom of the bird bath.”

  “I keep telling him to move it because one of these days a bird is gonna end up swallowing it whole, but he never listens.”

  “Glad he didn’t,” Claire replied. “Now, honey, what in the holy hell is wrong with you? You look like you got in a fight with your hairbrush and the hairbrush won…and is still winning.”

  “That’s why I called you. You’ve got a knack for fashion, and I need to look good.”

  Claire waved the comment away. “Oh, Maria, you always look good.” But she couldn’t hide the fact she was snickering.

  “Yeah, yeah, just help me.”

  “All right, I will, but it won’t be easy.” Claire checked the time on her iPhone. Joe would be in the driveway in twenty-five minutes. “80s movie montage?”