Midwest Magic Chronicles Box Set

by Flint Maxwell

  Publisher Notes - Michael Anderle

  November 15, 2017

  We have a dog, a magic user and a publisher on an airplane…

  Wait, wait. I’m the publisher on the airplane and Flint and Martha are the ones with the magic user and the dog.

  First (or is this second?) I would like to thank you for not only reading the story, but also the author notes an all the way to the end with my publisher notes, as well.

  My wife and I are flying back to Texas to spend time with our boys for the Thanksgiving holidays. It is the first time in my life that I have ever done something like this. Before, it was either me at my house or us traveling to a family or friends location. This time, we are traveling back to Texas (where we have a house), and all of the family (two of our three sons) will be coming home.

  It’s a weird experience. Now, the house is empty, and the kids are coming back to fill it up with noise and life and all the sorts of things that can make holidays fun.

  Or not.

  During this time, we will talk about their first few months of college, of life outside of the home and I’m sure they will withhold stories as well.

  At least, I hope they withhold stories. I wouldn’t be so good knowing some of the truth, I suspect.

  Last Friday night, Judith and I went to see Thor Ragnarok at the theater. For me, I enjoyed the movie significantly more than the second movie (name escapes me). The humor allowed me to deal with the stress of the action and just enjoy the popcorn aspect. For those who didn’t like it (I read a few reviews), I totally understand how the humor probably affected their enjoyment of the show.

  Also, before I forget, I had the HARDEST time with Karl Urban’s character because I recognized him around the eyes, but I couldn’t put a name to the actor. I just remembered “he was in that other sci-fi show where he was trying to be the head death guy.”

  I know, pretty crap explanation of the movie.

  I don’t have internet on the plane, so I can’t even look it up. A little help here? Vin Diesel is the main character; the antagonists are the necromancers or something like that. Vin’s character has silver eyes.

  Yeah, the name is still eluding me.

  Hold on, and I’ll tap on my wife to see if she remembers the movie.

  Huh, she doesn’t remember.

  Ok, back to my notes. I bring all of this up because (as a publisher) I have to make some decisions about tone, emotions, characters, and their place in our stories.

  Do we do hard stories (meaning, stressful stories that keep you on the edge of your seat) or do we keep the stories like “my” stuff (Michael Anderle) which are more what I usually like to read?

  What happens when I want to write stuff that is grittier? (If I do.) How do I brand those efforts as different than what I write now?

  It’s rather like a band you like who, on their fifth or sixth album, decides they want to try something different (looking at you favorite metal bands that decided they wanted to try another genre.)

  So, now I understand imprints and their purposes a little better. But, I don’t want to create an imprint for my publishing company. I just want everything to be “LMBPN Publishing."

  Grrrr…. I hate when I am challenged with traditional methodologies. My indie outlaw self wants to fight the system.

  But what if the system that has been implemented with the traditional publishers has a purpose even for an indie like myself?

  Grrrr… I’m not ready to cave yet. Maybe you guys could send us ideas on HOW to designate the style (content) of a book we are providing that makes sense.

  Cause, I hate the concept of imprints.

  Ok, well, I’m going to sign off and stare at the Grand Canyon that is outside my window. Maybe that will provide a little help coming up with ideas. ;-)

  Ad Aeternitatem,

  Michael

  The Midwest War

  Chapter One

  If he doesn’t wake up…can we eat him? Sherlock inched closer to Joe, who was passed out on top of the sugar bags in the back of Salem’s Ice Cream Shop.

  Maria glared at the Bloodhound. “Eat him?” she whispered.

  The rest of the wanderers—Claire, Tabby, Gramps, Frieda, Salem, Agnes, and now the newest member of the group, the Gnome, Gelbus Cogspark—were gathered around the rickety card table, their hands leafing through all the files and papers that Gramps had kept on the Arachnids over the years.

  Yeah, eat him.

  “Sherlock, you don’t eat humans,” Maria growled.

  There’s a first time for everything. The Bloodhound raced out the kitchen door, his paws padding on the linoleum, his mouth slobbering, and then came back in the blink of an eye. Clamped in his teeth were two cylindrical containers. Maria had to narrow her eyes to read them—SALT and PEPPER. For the flavor, Sherlock added. You can't blame me for wanting to have some taste, can you? Despite his voice being purely telepathic, it still sounded muffled to Maria, as if he really were speaking with his vocal cords instead of his mind.

  Maria reached out and took the containers from the dog’s mouth, slobber and all. “Why does an ice cream place even have salt and pepper?” she asked, mostly to herself. “Do people honestly salt and pepper their ice cream? Ohio is almost as weird as Oriceran…but a lot less magical.”

  No, Sherlock answered, I got these from outside in the dumpster.

  Maria let them fall from her grip. They clattered off the linoleum, the sound barely heard over the babble of the other wanderers’ voices, and rolled under the raised platforms that both Joe and the fifty-pound bags of sugar were on.

  Damn it, Maria. He’s gonna taste so bland now.

  “For the last time, Sherlock, you don’t eat humans,” Maria said.

  Hey, what can I say? War’s changed me. I’m a different type of doggy now.

  He said this last sentence with forced coolness. All Maria could do was shake her head.

  From the table, Gramps slapped Salem on the back of his shoulder and said, “It’s settled then! I’ll go to the crypt.”

  Maria whirled around, her face a mask of mild anger and confusion. “You’ll go? What about me? She was my mother.” The thought of seeing her dead hadn’t really struck Maria as odd. She was just excited she would get to see where her mother had been laid to rest. Maybe after all this blew over—the war, the enemy, the madness—she could visit her more often, tell her about her day, her childhood…all the things Zimmy Ba missed out on.

  “Oh, honey,” Agnes said, leaning backward. “It’s much too dangerous. You are safer here for the time being.”

  “At least until the war starts,” Claire added.

  Maria looked at her best friends. Both Claire and Tabby seemed different; their faces were harder. Claire had lost weight, her jaw was sharper, and her eyes were harder. As for Tabby, the wound around her neck had not yet fully healed. It was still a blackish-purple line that gave her the look of Frankenstein’s monster with his head sewn on. Of course, Tabby was much prettier than Frankenstein’s monster, but if Maria saw either of them walking down a dark alley in the wee hours of night, she’d probably turn around and walk the other way—magic, sword, and all.

  “The war has already started,” Maria countered. “The more time we waste, the more time the Widow has to prepare. No doubt the Orcs that escaped Ashbourne will have made it back to their king, and their king will have reported what happened to the Arachnids. They could be raising Rogue Dragons of their own.”

  Gelbus shook his head. “The Rogue Dragons will not rise again…at least not in our lifetime; not as long as you’ve locked Odarth away in that dreadful Cave of Delusion.”

  “He’s right,” Gramps agreed. “We mustn’t worry about the fighting—not yet, at least. Our primary goal is finding the Jewel to work that music box.”

  Maria saw there was no arguing her point to Gramps. His face was stern
, his jaw set. When he got like that, as stubborn as he already was, there was no hope for getting her way.

  “Besides, Maria, you must stay behind and recover. You’ve had a tough few days,” Gramps said.

  More like a tough few weeks, Maria thought bitterly.

  She just shook her head in reply to her grandfather, letting him know she wasn’t happy with his decision. It didn’t do much good; Gramps just turned right back to the chest that was seated next to the music box on the table, and resumed riffling through the papers.

  Maria got up and walked over to him. The paper Gramps was unfolding turned out to be a map of the Dark Forest. The only reason Maria knew that was because of the small dot located on the southern outskirts of the trees, between the mountains, labeled Dominion—the place Maria was born, and the place she had left as it died.

  “I buried her here,” Gramps said to Salem. He pointed to a place on the map well beyond the Dark Forest’s tree line.

  Salem’s face went pale, and Agnes gripped his forearm tight enough for the flesh on her knuckles to whiten.

  “I know, I know. If I could go back in time, I’d do it differently, but all those years ago, that place was untouched by the darkness. Zimmy loved to go and watch the water run lazily through the brook. It was her place of solitude.”

  “Like Superman!” Claire chimed in, causing Tabby to shake her head. Like always, the bulk of the wanderers ignored her.

  “Well, for our sakes, I hope it’s still untouched by the darkness.” The way Salem spoke didn’t carry much hope.

  Maria was about to open her mouth again to protest her grandfather carrying out this quest without her, when a stirring caused her words to catch and die in her throat.

  Joe moaned, and the brown paper of the sugar bags crinkled as he moved.

  Aw, even better, Sherlock said. I love it when my food puts up a fight. Makes ‘em that much tastier.

  Maria whirled around and saw Joe sitting up, the heel of his palms digging into his eye sockets as if he’d just woken up from a long nap and not been forced to unconsciousness by the surprise of seeing magical beings for the first time.

  “Geez, Sherlock,” Maria said as she walked over to the bags. “You’re starting to sound like an Arachnid.”

  Sherlock laughed manically in her head. War changed me, Maria! It did! No squirrel, Gnome, or Raffin shall escape my wrath!

  “Yeah, I knew that diet wouldn’t last,” Maria said as she nudged the Bloodhound out of the way.

  Joe looked up at the sound of her voice.

  From the table, Claire announced, “Sleeping beauty awakens! About time, Joe—we thought we’d lost you to slumberland.”

  Maria whipped around and shot her best friend a snarling glare. Claire shut up promptly, but her face didn’t lose any of its amusement…until Tabby punched her on the shoulder. Then Claire winced.

  “Where…where am I?” Joe asked. He looked around with wide, bleary eyes, taking in the soft, white light of the overhead fluorescents and the sparkling linoleum of Salem’s Ice Cream’s back room. “And why do I smell…” he sniffed deeply, “fudge? Yeah, that’s it, fudge and…ice cream?”

  Sherlock’s ears perked up at that. Damn, the kid’s sense of smell is good. I don’t even smell fudge; just this weird mixture of, like, old gym socks and decomposed squirrel.

  “Yeah, that’s your breath blowing back at you,” Maria said.

  Sherlock panted, and his ears perked up even higher. You’re right! Nice!

  Maria turned back to Joe, who was looking on confusedly.

  “Did you…did you just talk to your dog?” he asked. “I guess that’s not really weird, but it looked like he replied, and you—you understood him…”

  Maria shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know if I told you that or not. If I did, I don’t think you’d remember.”

  Joe rubbed his head. “I don’t remember much of anything,” he admitted.

  The other wanderers looked on with curiosity, as if they were studying a new exhibit at the local zoo, some alien specimen they’d never seen before. Joe looked up and met their eyes, his head swiveling around the table. When his gaze passed over Gelbus, there was a slight hitch in his turning neck, and his jaw dropped open.

  “Oh, my—” His lips spread open in preparation to scream.

  Maria quickly shot her hand out and covered his mouth. The last thing they needed at that point was a good samaritan calling the cops, and an officer at the front door, trying to get to the bottom of all the commotion. They would see a Gnome, a bunch of magical people, and a security guard, seemingly held against his will in the backroom. None of that would look good.

  The scream that did escape Joe’s mouth was muffled and barely audible.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Maria said, her voice as soothing as she could make it. Joe screamed soundlessly again into her palm. “There, there, get it out.”

  “Yeah, I know, Joe.” Claire spoke like they went back very far. She had worked at Rolling Hill much longer than Maria—before Maria was fired, that was—and had technically known Joe first. Whether Claire still had her job at Sephora or not, Maria didn’t know. The real world—or at least the one she had known before all of this magic came into her life—seemed very distant, and Ohio time was meaningless. “It’s a shock,” Claire continued. “I didn’t exactly scream like a little girl when I found out…but I guess we all have our different ways of dealing with things.”

  “Shut up,” Tabby said.

  Gelbus waved to Joe. He wore a smile on his face, and his little, sharp teeth were plainly visible.

  Joe trembled and mumbled a muffled something.

  Maria didn’t move her hand away. Instead, she said, “Promise me you’re not going to scream anymore. It would be bad to have the cops come snooping around here right now.”

  “Oh, we could just magic them away,” Salem said.

  “Is that your solution to everything?” Agnes asked, rolling her eyes at the wizard.

  “What?” Salem said, shrugging. “We might as well take advantage of this new leniency we have from the Silver Griffins.”

  “Abuse it, you mean,” Agnes said, crossing her arms.

  “No, it’s not like I’m using magic to rob a bank or cover up a murder. I’m using it to quiet someone we kidnapped and exposed the magical underworld to… Okay, you’re right, that doesn’t sound too good like that,” Salem answered. He leaned over and kissed Agnes on the cheek. “You’re always right, sweet pea.”

  The witch blushed at that. “Oh, Salem, you can’t kiss your way out of this one.”

  A sly grin on his face, he said, “You’ve said that one before.”

  Agnes playfully hit him on the arm.

  “Okay, lovebirds, don’t make me throw up my buckeye ice cream.” Claire stuck a finger in her mouth and feigned a gag.

  Gramps smiled, and Tabby didn’t hit Claire. They all laughed, even Agnes.

  “Okay, what the hell is going on?” Joe wanted to know. “I saw that…that…guy in my dream.” He was pointing at Gelbus.

  “That wasn’t a dream, my friend,” Gelbus answered. “You saw me plain as day at Maria’s house.”

  “I…I did?” Joe shook his head, trying to jog his memory.

  “You did,” Gelbus confirmed.

  Joe looked at Maria, and she shrugged. “You did. You passed out twice, too. Once when you saw me perform my magic—”

  “Magic?” Joe said. His face went gray, and he gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  To emphasize her point, Maria closed her eyes and drew magic into her body from deep within the kemana beneath the ice cream shop. Her skin glowed a slight blue, bright enough to paint Joe’s grayish flesh with color.

  Joe’s eyes practically popped out of his head. “What…the…actual…fu—”

  “Magic, my dear boy,” Gramps said.

  Maria let the magic go, and her skin returned to its normal tone. She looked at her grandfather, who still held the map in
his hand but was no longer studying it. On his face, he wore a slight grin.

  Don’t explain it to him! Sherlock admonished. If you explain it to him, he won’t die from a heart attack, and I won’t be able to eat him!

  “I thought you liked when your food put up a fight?” Maria asked.

  I changed my mind. Joe’s a big guy. He looks like he’d put up too much of a fight.

  “Is he asking if he can eat me?” Joe asked with his eyebrows arched so high, they almost reached his hairline.

  “No,” Maria said, waving her hand at him. “No, not at all. Sherlock is a good boy.”

  Not supposed to lie to the people you love, Maria, Sherlock added.

  “Two words: vegan and diet,” Maria replied.

  A Bloodhound’s eyes were naturally droopy, but Sherlock’s shot open, wider than they had in a while. You said you wouldn’t mention that again!

  “Well, when you keep talking about eating my boyfriend—”

  Oh, shit.

  At that moment, she felt the weight of every eye boring into her.

  “Boyfriend?” Joe said quietly.

  Maria looked up at him slowly, her eyes wide and puppy-dog-like. “I, uh…”

  Joe looked as if everything that had happened in the last few hours never had. A big grin spread on his face, and for a moment—which felt like an eternity to Maria—Joe could only stare at her, unblinking.