Midwest Magic Chronicles Box Set

by Flint Maxwell

  After a moment, Agnes shrugged.

  “Right you are, Salem. The Silver Griffins have never truly scared me, though I suppose they should,” Ignatius shrugged.

  “Trevilsom is no joke, you two,” Agnes said. She looked to Maria and whispered, “You know that brother I used to scare? Well he was in there for nearly three years. He came out an entirely different wizard.”

  “That’s good,” Maria said. “That’s what prison is all about, right? Reform? Rehabilitation?” She accessed the many hours she’d spent watching Law & Order.

  “Unfortunately, he didn’t come out for the better. I can hardly look him in the eyes, let alone hold a conversation with the poor fellow. Suffice to say, he is not my brother—not the budding wizard I used to play pranks on whilst we grew up.”

  “Probably your fault, too,” Salem said.

  Gramps surprised Maria when he leaned over and punched his friend in the arm hard enough to draw a wince from the wizard.

  “I’m just joking, geez,” Salem said, sucking a breath in through his teeth.

  “No, I fear you may be right,” Agnes said. She hung her head as she spoke.

  “I wasn’t there for him when I should’ve been. We had gone down different paths.”

  “Aw, don’t say that,” Maria said, patting the witch on the back. “A ton of stuff could have been the cause. You can’t single out one exact thing.”

  Gramps and Salem nodded their approval.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Agnes said. “Though I do miss my little brother.”

  There was silence as the four of them contemplated Agnes’s heavy words.

  For Maria, they made all of this even more real. She had known Salem and Agnes for as long as she could remember. They were there for birthday parties, holidays—pretty much any time something important came up (once, the witch and wizard even came over to support Gramps during a particularly heavy episode of General Hospital). But Maria hadn’t truly known them.

  Standing there and learning more about their pasts, their lives, made them realer. These were witches and wizards, but most importantly, they were people, and the outcome of their lives ultimately rested on whether or not she was successful in the war against the Widow and the Arachnids.

  You don’t know if there will be a war for sure, Maria. If Gramps and Salem get the Jewel of Deception, then Gelbus can help you activate the music box, and you can get those villagers out of the world in between. After that, you can all live happily ever after with big, goofy smiles on your faces. All sunshine and rainbows. How beautiful.

  Deep down, she knew it would not be that easy; it rarely ever was. If being a witch had taught her anything—in the short amount of time she had actually been one—it was that when one issue is solved, another problem presents itself.

  I wonder if there’s some scientific explanation for that…Maria’s Law instead of Murphy’s Law.

  She chuckled to herself.

  “What is it you’re thinking of over there, my dear?” Gramps asked.

  Maria smiled, taking in the three of them standing by the card table. They were frazzled and odd, but they were family, and she loved them more in that moment than she had ever loved anything. She made sure to take a few mental pictures because, deep down, she knew this could be the last time she saw them like this. Happy. Together. Whole.

  “Nothing,” she answered.

  Gramps crossed the distance to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “Nothing? Are you sure, Maria?”

  She could tell by his voice that he knew ‘nothing’ meant something, even though Maria hid it well. Gramps was just good like that.

  “Yeah, nothing,” she repeated.

  “Sometimes, we think of the most important things when we think about nothing,” Gramps said.

  Behind them, Salem snickered.

  “That doesn’t make much sense, Gramps,” Maria replied skeptically.

  “What have I told you? A wizard doesn’t have to make sense.” It was Maria’s turn to snicker. Guiding her, Gramps continued. “Come, come. Let’s eat some ice cream before we go to war…and before Sherlock eats it all.”

  From the dining room came the Bloodhound’s voice. Hey, I heard that one, too! Geez, you guys really don’t understand how well dogs hear, do you? I mean, it’s the middle of the night on a weekend, and I can already hear the mailman coming this Monday.

  As Maria pushed the door open to the dining area and saw her friends and her new boyfriend, she thought I guess talking Bloodhounds don’t have to make much sense, either.

  “Not how that works, Sherlock,” she said. She was not surprised to see pink and orange stains around the dog’s muzzle. The flavor of the day, besides buckeye, was apparently sherbet.

  They enjoyed each other’s company for a while after that. There was lots of laughter and smiles. Maria explained to Joe all that had happened to her over the course of the last few days, and he listened intently with his jaw hanging open, only closing it to occasionally clear his throat and nod. But after Maria, with the support of her friends and family, was done telling him, Joe didn’t pass out like he had done on more than one occasion. Nor did he say he didn’t believe her. He had seen enough to know that magic, witches, and wizards were the real deal, and if they were real, what’s not to say dragons, Elves, and spells weren’t?

  Joe only said one thing before the laughter and enjoyment resumed.

  “I’m glad you’re okay.” Then he hugged Maria, and they sat next to each other, hand in hand, while they ate ice cream.

  It was a dessert feast.

  By the time they were done, it was decided by Ignatius that they should all go home and get some rest. Maria was glad of that. She hadn’t slept in God knew how long, but as much as she wanted to sleep, she was too stubborn—Just like your dear mother, Gramps’s voice echoed in her head—to say that.

  So out they went. Before Maria left for home, however, she stayed back in the parking lot with Joe, off to the side of the building.

  “If you need any help defeating this…uh, spider-lord-thing, well then, I’m your guy.”

  “Thank you, Joe,” she said, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “But I don’t want to put you in any more danger than you are already in by being with me. You know, I’m liable to just, like, explode at any moment. Magic, and all that.”

  Joe laughed. “I think you’ve got the hang of it, for the most part. Matter of fact, you’d probably be a kick-ass security guard up at Rolling Hill. I could get you in after all this warfare blows over.”

  A smile touched Maria’s lips. “Thanks, but no. I’m never going back to that hellhole again.”

  Joe shrugged. “I don’t think it’ll be around much longer anyway.”

  “Sad,” Maria replied.

  She looked Joe in the eyes, having to crane her head up slightly to meet them, since he was nearly a head taller than her. She liked that. Dating someone shorter than her wasn’t exactly a deal-breaker, but it wasn’t a trait she sought out, either.

  Of course, the same could probably be said about dating someone who practices magic. The term ‘witch’ has been known to leave a bad taste in peoples’ mouths from time to time. So I don’t know if you get to be picky, Maria.

  To get her mind off of all of that, she asked Joe what he was going to do once the mall closed down.

  With a shrug and a slight shake of his head, he cleared his throat before he answered. “I don’t know, really. I might go to college. I hear Akron University has some solid programs.”

  Maria nodded. “Tabby likes it.”

  “What I really want to do is become a cop.”

  “You’d be good at that.” Maria had to put away the thought of Joe in a cop uniform before her face turned beet red.

  “It’s been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember,” Joe said. “I’d play cops and robbers with my brother, and we never fought over who got to be who. Brad loved being the robber, and I loved being the cop.” He gave her a wink. “An
d I always won.”

  Maria chuckled. “Then why don’t you do that? Go to the police academy.”

  “Well, my mom said if I became a cop, you know, handling guns and busting crackheads and murderers, she’d have a panic attack and probably never cut the crusts off of my PB&J sandwiches again… Oh, no, I've said too much. Anyway, I love my mom. I’d hate to scare her.”

  “That’s sweet,” Maria said, “but you can’t live your life according to someone else. It’s your life. I think it’s unfair of your mom to guilt you out of doing what you want to do.”

  “I know, I know,” Joe said.

  She could tell he was getting uncomfortable. Joe had probably thought about all of this before. Who am I to tell him what to do? And aren’t I being a bit of a hypocrite?

  So she just smiled and took his hand. “You’ll figure it out, and you’ll be great at whatever you wind up doing.”

  “Thanks,” he replied, returning the smile.

  “Whether you wear a police badge and carry a gun, or a Rolling Hill name tag and carry a flashlight, you’re still a hero to me.”

  “You’re gonna make me cry,” Joe joked.

  Maria laughed and hit him playfully on the shoulder. “Okay, I’m out of here. I need to rest. I feel like I’m about to collapse. Conquering a Rogue Dragon, and all.”

  Joe shook his head. Then they kissed and said their goodbyes.

  When she got home a few minutes later, the lights went off and everyone passed out. Gelbus stayed in Sherlock’s ‘office,’ Frieda was asleep in the living room, and Sherlock slept at the foot of Maria’s bed, like always—and like always, his tail-end wound up near her face, right on her pillow.

  When she woke up, the sun was on the horizon. She looked at her clock, and the glowing numbers were essentially gibberish to her. She used the bathroom and got a drink of water. The house was quiet. Everyone was still asleep. God knew they needed rest more than they needed anything else, so Maria followed suit and drifted off to dreamland once more.

  Chapter Four

  Her dreams were nightmares.

  Kira, Michein, Franklin, Parmella, Sage, and the other villagers Maria had been introduced to by Gramps’s sketchbook were in these nightmares. They looked exactly how Gramps had drawn them.

  Where they were in this dream, Maria was unsure. It was as if they floated through a gelatinous haze.

  The world in between, a voice said in her head. Whose it was, she didn’t know. It sounded like a mixture of all those who had given her help—Duke, Gramps, Anwyn, Frieda, and so many more. Then the ghosts of Gramps’s friends called out to her.

  “Help us, Mariaaaaaa. Help ussssss.”

  “I’m trying,” she replied.

  “It is coming. The darkness.” Gaunt faces looked at her with an underlying kindness. “It will consume us all. If it escapes, it will consume the worlds.”

  “I won’t let it,” she promised sternly.

  Suddenly, there was a crack like thunder and a flash of lightning. The villagers of Dominion parted. Maria was pulled forward; she could feel her insides stretch, then snap back into place when she stopped.

  Now she stood before a great, dark mist, a storm cloud from hell. Inside the mist, electricity fizzled and blazed. A heat radiated from it, but so did the icy chill of death and despair.

  It almost sent Maria’s heart out of her chest.

  She wanted nothing more than to cower, but she knew that was what the darkness wanted. Ignatius Apple had not taught her to fall down before darkness. No, she stood up to darkness. She wouldn’t let it win, even if this was a dream.

  Her hands clenched into fists, and she looked right into the mist with a snarl on her face.

  A wisp of the cloud reached out toward her with talon-like hands. She clamped her teeth together, lest they took to chattering.

  For a moment, the hand hovered there in front of her face. Maria reached for her sword, but it was gone. She hadn’t brought it with her to this dreamworld. But she was more than a sword. She was a witch with powerful magic. She allowed her mind to wander, seeking out the magic that would defeat this entity, this creature, this thing. But she got nothing. The magic was gone. It wasn’t there.

  Like a striking viper, the darkness’s hand shot toward Maria’s chest. The chill present all around her now invaded her body. She screamed, but there was no sound.

  “Release me, Maria. Releaseeeeee meeeeee.”

  No, she tried to say, but the darkness had more than her heart; it had her body. It pulled her closer with a jerk. Spikes of pain rippled over her. She screamed, again soundlessly. She was so close to the darkness that each breath she took was painful and full of ice.

  “Poweerrrr, Maria, I’ll give you power,” the voice cooed.

  No, no!

  “I’m coming whether you like it or not. I’ll be there to devour your world.”

  No, no, no—

  “Never!” she shouted as she shot up out of bed. Sherlock rolled off the side and bounced off the floor with a snorting whine.

  What the hell? That wasn’t cool at all, the Bloodhound moaned.

  Maria’s heart beat frantically. “Did you hear that?”

  What? Maria, are you okay? You’re not going crazy, are you? Sherlock asked. He was pulling himself up off the floor. He gave his head a great shake, ears flapping all around, drool spraying like a fine mist. Some flecks of spit hit Maria, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was elsewhere.

  “I saw them all. They were so close to death. That darkness was going to consume them,” she was saying as she got out of bed and rushed to put on her clothes.

  What are you on about? You nearly broke my back. Don’t you care about me? If you broke my back or one of my paws, how the hell would I ever dance at Dog Prom?

  Maria ignored this, too.

  “I gotta tell Gramps. If he doesn’t hurry up and get that ruby-thing, I’ll have to go myself.”

  Sherlock followed behind her at first, and then ran in front—probably thinking it was breakfast time. Old habits die hard, and all that. Maria did notice he walked with an exaggerated limp; it wouldn’t be the first time, if he was playing up the injury to get more food.

  She came upon Gramps’s door and didn’t bother to knock.

  Wait, Maria—

  The hinges creaked open and she was looking inside her grandfather’s bedroom—a place where he had slept alone for many years.

  Now, though, he wasn’t so alone.

  On the bed, covered with at least four blankets, all of vibrant color and exquisite stitchwork, were two lumps.

  “Oh, my—” Maria began, but then one of the lumps started to move. Frieda’s hair spilled over the edge of the bed, and her arm hung next to it.

  Quickly, Maria closed the door.

  Told you, Sherlock said. I could smell Frieda almost as soon as we hit the hallway. She smells sweet, like the forest, but I smelled something else, too.

  “Oh God, please don’t say you smelled…lovemaking,” she said, bringing a hand up to her mouth.

  Sherlock’s lips pulled back in a grin. No, no, not lovemaking; not yet at least. But I did smell love. Loads of it. Those two are about as head over heels for each other as you and that security guard.

  “Joe,” she insisted. “Don’t act like you don’t know his name. And I’m not head over heels for him. Geez, Sherlock, you know me better than that. I’m not into all that lovey-dovey crap.”

  Sure you’re not.

  “I’m not. I have a mission to accomplish first.”

  Uh-huhhhhh, Sherlock said.

  Maria turned from the door and headed down the steps. Sherlock pushed past her, not so much walking as he was waddling.

  Maybe I really should integrate a bit more vegetables into his diet. He’s looking like a blimp. Maria smiled. All that walking and battling in Oriceran was immediately erased by the gallons of ice cream and garbage he devoured back at Salem’s. Poor guy. He’s not gonna be able to fit into his Dog Prom tuxedo.
r />   This was good. Maria needed to get her mind off of what she had seen in Gramps’s bedroom—not to mention the nightmare she’d had. She succeeded until she sat down at the table to eat breakfast, with Sherlock munching Purina greedily at her feet. The image of her grandfather in bed with a woman came flooding back with as much ferocity as Lake Fever’s waves when Odarth had sprung forth, resurrected.

  It was not an image that disgusted her or angered her by any means. In fact, she began to giggle, like Claire might’ve done had she seen what Maria saw. She was proud of her grandfather, and glad to have Frieda as part of her ever-growing family. Whatever made Gramps happy made Maria happy by proxy…unless it was soap operas. She didn’t care much for the soaps Gramps was obsessed with.

  Sherlock’s bowl dinged as he pushed it up against Maria’s chair. It was empty, and this was his way of telling her that he wanted more—at least it had been when he couldn’t communicate with her telepathically.

  “No more,” Maria said, and her thoughts gave way to the dreams she’d had.

  That dark mist. That smooth, creepy movement. That voice. That feeling of iciness that engulfed her when the talon-like hand seized her heart. She shivered thinking about it.

  Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry, though her bowl of Fruity Pebbles was pretty much full. She took her spoon out, setting it on top of her paper towel, and set the bowl on the floor. Sherlock eyed it warily, licking his chops.

  May I?

  “Since you asked so nicely,” Maria allowed, waving him on toward the bowl.

  Thank you! Thank you!

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Sherlock dove snout-first into the cereal, not sure if he should lap at it or bite it. Maria grinned, watching this. It was comical, but it wasn’t enough to get the villagers’ looks of anguish that were tattooed on her brain to subside.

  Too bad it’s not Cocoa Pebbles, Sherlock said as he licked the bowl clean.

  Maria made a mental note not to ever eat out of that bowl again, or, even better, to throw it away. She loved Sherlock, but not that much.