Midwest Magic Chronicles Box Set

by Flint Maxwell

  Frieda nodded. “I cannot argue with that logic, Ignatius, especially if what you told me happened here the other day was true.”

  Gramps sighed loudly. “Fine. Let’s go save that fucking town!”

  “That’s the spirit!”

  Out of nowhere, using his stored power from being on Oriceran, a portal opened in the living room.

  “Next stop, Ashbourne,” he said.

  Maria caught eyes with Tabby and Claire. “I think you should sit this one out.”

  Tabby shifted uncomfortably and Claire looked quite disappointed.

  “You know, stick around here and report on any weird, ghostly spider legs. If things are real slow, head on down to Salem’s. I’m sure he will need some back up when the Griffins show up, questioning him about what happened with Malakai and all that stuff.” They were Maria’s best friends, part of her family. She didn’t want to risk another near-death experience, like the one that occurred in the ruined village of Dominion. “If anyone can hold ghostly spider legs off, you two can.”

  Claire nodded.

  Tabby came forward and threw her arms around Maria. She hugged her so tight that Maria could hardly breathe. Claire came over seconds later and hugged her, too.

  “Uh…guys,” Maria choked out, “can’t…b-breathe.”

  They let go.

  “Just be careful,” Claire said.

  “Yeah, don’t be stupid.”

  “Carefulness and stupidity while slaying a dragon don’t really go hand-in-hand, I think,” Maria answered.

  “You know what we mean.”

  Maria smiled. “I do. But if I die, at least wait a few months before one of you guys goes after Joe.” She winked.

  “Don’t even joke about that,” Tabby said.

  “Sorry, sorry.” Maria turned and whistled toward Sherlock’s room. “Come on, fatty, time to go kick a dragon’s ass.”

  Hm, Sherlock answered, coming around the corner faster than before, as much fun as that sounds, I think—

  “There’s a Gnome in it for you.”

  Do I get to pee on him?

  “I don’t know what’s with you and peeing on things,” Maria said, bending down so she was eye-to-eye with Sherlock, “but if we slay a dragon and save this Gnome’s life, I’m sure he’d be honored to have you pee on him.”

  Sherlock’s eyes lit up. What’s the situation on the food?

  “All the dead squirrels and Raffins you can eat,” Maria answered. It wasn’t exactly a lie because she couldn’t be one hundred percent certain that there wasn’t an all-you-can-eat feast of dead squirrels and Raffins in Ashbourne. She had never been there. And if saying that got Sherlock to come along for the ride, then she figured no harm, no foul.

  Fine, count me in. But if I miss my Dog Prom…

  “Cool it with the Dog Prom, Sherlock. It’s not real.”

  Neither was magic a few days ago, eh, Maria?

  Maria narrowed her eyes. Behind her, Frieda said her goodbyes to Tabby and Claire, mentioning how it was such a pleasure to meet real-live Earth people.

  “You got a point there,” Maria said to the Bloodhound. “If you can’t get a date to go with you, then you can take me.”

  You mean it?

  “Yes, but just as friends…obviously.”

  Obviously. You’re with Joe now, and I like cat— Er, I mean, catalope…I like cataracts.”

  “Real good save there, Sherlock.”

  Thank you. I mean, I dunno what you’re talking about, catalopes is my favorite!

  “I think you mean cantaloupe.” Maria emphasized the ’n.’

  Sherlock brought a paw up and examined his claws. Maria…oh, sweet Maria.

  “Don’t do that—” Maria started to say.

  Anything is food if you’re brave enough. Including catalope.

  “You’re gross.”

  “Are we ready? Time is ticking on the other side,” Gramps said.

  Maria stepped forward, but not before Tabby and Claire could wish her good luck. She thanked them and took one last, long look around her living room, taking in the TV playing some weird soap opera, the ratty recliner and even older and more worn flowery love seat by the window, the mismatched curtains, the 70’s shag carpet. I hope I come back. I’m gonna miss this.

  Okay, Maria, of course you’re gonna come back. You’re an ass-kicking witch now, she quickly thought.

  Gramps stuck out his hand, Maria took it, then she took Freida’s, and Sherlock came up behind her and caught the hem of her leather jacket with his teeth.

  “Let’s go,” Gramps said.

  “Woo! Slay that fucking dragon!” Tabby shouted.

  “Tab,” Claire whispered, embarrassed for her outburst.

  They stepped through the portal. It was the last thing Maria heard before she was sent to Oriceran.

  Chapter Eleven

  The feeling of weightlessness, of traveling at the speed of light, that Maria felt the few times she had gone through a portal was stopped abruptly. Gramps had said that everyone experienced portaling differently; some get intense motion sickness, others get a euphoric feeling of being two places at once, as one foot catches up with the other. Maria normally seemed to be in the middle of these two extremes. If one could call portaling normal.

  But now—now, something happened.

  Something went wrong.

  She heard high-pitched screaming drifting back to her. She heard Sherlock, barking and growling. She heard something thrashing.

  She saw nothing…besides the darkness.

  Suddenly, the breath was knocked out of her. “Oooh,” she moaned, rolling over. Her tailbone was throbbing. I thought Gramps said the landing gets easier. So wrong.

  She felt grass beneath her fingers. It was short and stubbly, poking through her jeans. She opened her eyes, seeing stars floating around her vision, and something else—

  The portal.

  It was still open, but she no longer saw her living room or Claire and Tabby on the other side. Now there was just blackness.

  “Gramps?” she looked around. Nothing. “Sherlock? Freida?” Nothing.

  She then checked her satchel. The shape of the music box was there, but she opened it anyway and took it out, making sure it was all right. It was. Not even so much as a scuff. The music played as sweetly as ever.

  “Where am I?” She scanned her surroundings. The grass only grew in patches because she was near a large mountain. One that stretched much higher than an Earth mountain. It wasn’t as tall as Mount Everest, but she reckoned it was close.

  Not only was there no sign of her family, but there was also no sign of any civilization for as far as the eye could see. No towns, no villages, no rivers—didn’t Gramps say Ashbourne was a fishing village? She thought he did.

  The portal still hadn’t closed. Maria put the music box back in the satchel and made sure it was securely closed, then she stood up with one hand on the hilt of her sword—the same hilt that had driven pretty hard into her side upon landing. Maybe she had to go through the portal again before it closed. Maybe something malfunctioned, and Gramps and the rest of them were still in the living room.

  As she approached the portal, though, the blackness within shimmered. The sound of breaking glass filled Maria’s ear as something exploded through the portal. She brought her left hand up to shield her face while her right hand unsheathed the sword.

  “MARIAAAAAA!” a horrible voice said.

  Maria moved her hand away. From the portal stretched a spider leg as thick as the stump of an oak tree. It ended in a razor sharp point, as if sharpened by whetstone. From the leg came bristly black hairs that were as long as Maria’s middle finger.

  “GIVE ME BACK WHAT IS MINE!” that voice said. Then the leg lashed out at her, seemingly coming for her heart.

  It almost made Maria freeze.

  Almost.

  With one quick motion, Maria swung the blade. The metal was so light in her hand that her muscles hardly strained, and the gle
aming silver looked like a fan rotating at a thousand miles per hour.

  The edge connected with the hard flesh of the spider leg with a clink.

  Just like Malakai, she thought bitterly.

  Whoever the leg belonged to screamed shrilly at the top of their lungs. Maria had cut the leg clean off. It tumbled from the portal onto the scrubby grass right in front of Maria’s feet.

  The nub pulled back through the portal, and the portal snapped closed with a crackling fzzzt.

  Maria took a step back from the writhing leg, her sword held up in front of her, just in case. She’d seen enough horror movies to know not to let her guard down.

  But nothing happened. The spider leg didn’t magically sprout a body or jagged teeth—nothing like that. Instead, it just fizzled and crackled, much like the portal had done. Then it disintegrated right before Maria’s eyes; Malakai’s body had done the same thing.

  “The Widow,” Maria said softly to herself. She prodded the ground with her sword in the spot where the leg had been. All she stabbed was dirt. The immediate danger was gone. Now she had to worry about where the rest of her group had gone.

  She sheathed her sword and turned around. As she did, a scream rippled through the air, followed closely by barking.

  “Sherlock!?” Maria shouted back. She took off running in the direction of the sound.

  Maria found Gramps, Freida, and Sherlock under a nearby tree. It was mostly bare of leaves. The ones that had been shed were on the ground, deep purple and fiery red. Not like fall in Ohio, that’s for sure.

  Gramps was half-laying, half-sitting against the tree trunk. Frieda knelt next to him, holding his hand. Sherlock was licking his face.

  “Gramps!” Maria shouted and sprinted the rest of the distance, leaves crumbling under her soles.

  “He is all right,” Freida said. “Took a nasty spill when we came out of the portal.”

  One look at Gramps, and she knew it was more than that. His white and gray hair was all frazzled, his long beard twisted, with twigs and bits of leaves stuck in it. On his forehead was a deep gash.

  Suddenly, he opened his eyes and moaned.

  “Gramps, are you okay?”

  He brought a hand up to the gash, touching it gently. As he brought his fingers away and looked at them, he moaned again. They were sticky with blood.

  “What happened?”

  Frieda answered. “Interference. Something dark tried to reroute us.”

  Maria nodded. “I think I know exactly what that something dark was.”

  “Arachnid,” Gramps answered.

  “Not just any Arachnid… The Widow.” Maria shivered. “Don’t worry, I cut off one of her legs.”

  Gramps’s eyes shot wide open. “You saw her? Oh, you poor dear. I’m so sorry. I knew I should’ve never brought you along; we haven’t even faced the dragon. Oh, my—”

  “Relax, Gramps,” Maria said, grabbing his hand. “I handled myself pretty well. Me: one. The Widow: Minus one…leg.” She winked.

  It took a moment for Gramps’s stern look to melt into a smile, but eventually it did. He tried to stand up without much success. Maria and Frieda had to help steady him, but he got there mostly on his own. From his robe, he pulled out the same wand he’d used in Dominion, examining it closely.

  “All good. I’d hate to break another wand,” he said.

  “Exactly why I don’t use them,” Frieda replied.

  “Yeah, but I don’t think I could handle flames as well as I could handle a wand. Much respect to you for taking the harder road.”

  Frieda smiled, and Maria thought she might’ve even blushed a little.

  Oooh, it’s like me and Claire, Sherlock said with a wink.

  “Cool it,” Maria answered. She cleared her throat and Gramps and Frieda stopped goggling each other and turned to look at Maria. Freida’s pale skin was quite flushed. “Sorry,” Maria said. “I was just wondering where the town was.” She looked up in the sky, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Don’t see it and I don’t see a dragon, which I guess is pretty good.”

  Gramps turned toward the crop of mountains surrounding them. “That’s because we aren’t anywhere near Ashbourne. No.” He spun around, almost losing his balance. Frieda and Maria both reached out to steady him. He smiled solemnly. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” He cleared his throat, touching the head wound again. “No, we must be in the mountains outside of the Land of Terran. Ashbourne is a ways over the other side. No matter. We shall just open another portal; since Maria has dispatched of the Widow for the time being, I feel it will go much smoother than before.”

  They gathered in a circle, holding hands. Sherlock clamped onto Maria’s leather jacket again. She glared at him.

  What? It tastes good. Real leather. You go, girl!

  “You chew a hole in it, you’re buying me a new one, and Dog Prom will definitely be off.”

  No worries. Sherlock showed his teeth in what he thought was a smile, but it came off as more of a snarl to Maria.

  Gramps closed his eyes and began singing the usual song in a low voice. Maria followed suit. Frieda hummed along.

  But nothing happened. No feeling of weightlessness. No traveling at the speed of light. No spider legs, either.

  Just nothing.

  “Not good,” Gramps said after a moment.

  “What?” Maria heard herself ask. Her heart plummeted to her stomach.

  “I…can’t open a portal.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m more injured than I originally thought.”

  They let go of each other’s hands, but Sherlock didn’t unlatch from Maria’s jacket. She was about to shoo him away, but thought that if it kept the dog distracted, what harm was a few holes in an old leather thing she hadn’t worn in years anyway?

  “Maybe you should sit down,” Frieda said. “Rest.”

  Gramps shook his head. Now Maria knew where the stubbornness in her family apparently came from; it had rubbed off on Sherlock, too.

  “It’s not physical,” Gramps answered. “Not so much, at least. It’s magical. The Widow seems to have hit me where it hurts the most, yet I feel no pain.” He drew his wand and aimed it at a lone leaf. He mumbled something under his breath, some kind of spell. A light fizzled at the end of the wood, only glowing faintly. Maria could hardly see it in the glare of the sun.

  “No,” Gramps said. “No, this is not good.”

  Maria walked over and put her arm around him, hoping to make him feel better. “Can you open a portal, Frieda?”

  Freida shifted on her feet nervously. “I’m afraid I’ve never learned that ability. As a Woodland Witch, we channel our magical energy on the Flames of Sight. Rarely do we have reason to leave our part of the forest.”

  “Shit,” Maria muttered.

  Maria, ask me if I can.

  “No.”

  C’mon, just ask me. You never know, I might be able to save the day.

  “I know you can’t save the day because you’re a dog. Not a wizard or a witch. A talking dog, sure, but I think all dogs can probably talk, I just have the misfortune of hearing you.”

  Rude.

  Maria shrugged. “Well, can you open a portal?”

  Sherlock shook his head. No…no, I can’t.

  “Ugh. Why did we bring you?”

  “I wish I could hear your conversations,” Gramps said, a smile on his face. That smile told Maria it was all going to be okay. Somehow, some way, it would be. He could always cheer her up with just his smile.

  “Trust me,” she said, “you don’t want to hear what we talk about.”

  Gramps laughed.

  “I can try to open a portal. You say I’m powerful.”

  “No, Maria, you must not. It takes an experienced magic user to open a portal of any kind. Proper training is required. When fiddling with portals, you risk ending up in the world in between. We cannot take that risk.”

  “What do we do then? We’re just stuck here?” Good thing
I didn’t set a second date in stone with Joe. It’d be really bad if I stood him up on accident.

  Sherlock was near the tree, sniffing the bark—possibly for Raffins, possibly for Gnomes, or maybe some other magical creature he wanted to make into a new enemy number one—when he turned around and whined.

  Stuck here? What about Dog Prom, Maria? Oh, no, I can’t miss it! I missed it last year.

  “There’s no— You know what, Sherlock? Don’t worry. It’s all going to work out in the end, right, Gramps?”

  Gramps was looking at the mountains. Maria followed his gaze. She saw a narrow passage slicing through them, far in the distance. These mountains stretched so high, they disappeared into the clouds. No way we can make that hike if Gramps is injured. No, Maria, have confidence. You’ve slain an Arachnid, gotten Kaylee, your former high school bully, and her goons to lay off of you…not to mention you’ve had your official first kiss. You can do anything after all that. A mountain hike will be a piece of cake. You’ll carry Gramps, if you have to.

  “There,” Gramps said. “That marks our passage. It may be a long and arduous journey, but I expected that in the first place. I just hope we aren’t too late for our Gnome friend.”

  “We won’t be,” Maria replied.

  “No worries, Ignatius,” Frieda chimed in. “I have not looked in my flames for long, but I can feel that we will be okay.”

  Gramps nodded.

  “Very well. Onward we go. Our journey awaits!” he said.

  Sherlock sat back on his haunches, tilted his head up, and howled to the sky.

  Around the time Ignatius came back with Frieda, the dark witch, opening a portal right in the middle of his living room, Salem and Agnes were closing down the ice cream shop while Lois leaned back in her chair, working on her fifth ice cream cone.

  It’s okay, I skipped dinner, she thought.

  She stood up once she finished. “Let me help, you guys,” she offered.

  Agnes waved her away. “No, no, Lois. You are our guest. Can I get you anything else?”

  Lois smiled. She had forgotten how gracious Agnes and Salem were, how gracious Midwesterners were in general. “No, I’m okay. Thank you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at an ice cream cone again… Ah, who am I kidding? Of course, I will.”