The Hunting of Malin

by Sean Thomas Fisher

  “Oh, my God,” Malin groaned, hiding behind a hand.

  “What? It’s a legitimate question.”

  She looked up and braced for impact with a turning bread truck. “Will you please slow down?”

  “Sorry.”

  Using her fingertips, she tried rubbing a dull throb from her temples, Roscoe’s hectic driving churning her gut. “Ross, you own a bar where beautiful women come and go every day. Find somebody new.”

  “I don’t want somebody new.” He laid on the horn when a red crotch-rocket cut him off. “Asshole!”

  “Will you relax? What’s the big rush?”

  “That shithead cut me off.”

  “So what!” She released a calming breath that failed to loosen the muscles in her back. “I should’ve called Holden for a ride. You’re wound way too tight today.”

  “He gave you his number?”

  She shrugged, the cool air prickling her skin. “Maybe.”

  “May, he’s a player. Do you really want to repeat history?”

  “Trust me, I will never repeat history.” She shriveled a little inside just thinking about it. When she found out Tor was sleeping with another woman who wasn’t named Malin (fucking Stacey!) at his securities firm, Malin actually considered switching teams. After all, men were pigs. In the end, however, she simply decided to never give her heart to another man, just her pussy. It was her fault anyway. She should’ve known Tor was trouble as soon as she found out his name was Tor!

  “And Holden is definitely not a player,” she continued, cringing when she thought about how he’d rebuffed her clumsy advances last night. She was the bad guy here, not him. In truth, his chivalry gave her a sliver of hope for mankind that she held onto with both hands. “He used to be a cop.”

  “Yeah, and you know how cops like to get their party on. My sister dated a cop one time in college. Dude used to handcuff her to radiators and Christmas trees and stuff.”

  Twisting a turquoise ring around a finger, Malin looked up. “Did he tell you what happened with that job?”

  “Holden? Budget cuts,” Roscoe answered, considering it for a moment. “Allegedly.”

  Her eyes thinned. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Who knows what really happened? He could’ve been fired for police brutality for all I know.”

  “Didn’t you call the police department for a reference?”

  Roscoe laughed. “For a bartending job? Hell no, I’m way too busy for that shit.” Turning his attention back to the road, he stomped on the brake pedal, nearly clipping a pickup truck and sending Malin careening through the front windshield at the same time. “Motherfucker,” he shouted, honking and flipping off the driver studying them in the rearview mirror.

  “Roscoe!”

  “What is this? National cut off Roscoe day?”

  “What do you expect when you drive a girl’s car?”

  He inhaled sharply, insult clawing at his face. “How dare you! This is not a girl’s car. This is a Pontiac Grand Am – a very close cousin to the manly Pontiac Trans Am.”

  “Whatever,” she grumbled, checking her phone for a text from Roxanna that hadn’t yet come.

  “Besides, I put all my money into the bar. Last thing I need right now is to take on some huge car payment. I have to make this bar work or I am done. Finito!” He shifted uneasily in the seat and softened his voice. “Besides, I like this car. It has A/C and a working lighter.”

  They rode in silence for a couple of miles, tree lined shops and old houses sailing past in a blur. Loosening the seatbelt getting a little tighter with each bump in the road, her mind wandered back to Holly Banner. Malin still couldn’t believe it, but it was starting to sink in. Maybe she should tell her mom about the vision. About the dead girl. Malin sighed, fogging the glass. No, that was one can of worms she did not want to open. Luna would only want to read her palm or have a séance or brew up a magic potion using Malin’s toenails, urine and hair, and she refused to go down that road again. Not today. For now, she would do nothing except retrieve her car, grab some greasy drive-thru and go back to bed.

  “I still can’t believe you knew where to find that girl’s body,” Roscoe said in a hushed tone, reading her mind.

  “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “Me neither. That is some super freaky shit. Like you knew exactly where to find her!”

  “I can’t stop seeing her face in my head.” Malin peered out the side window, afraid to close her eyes and afraid to keep them open. She never saw the actual body like the old man did with the dog, but she knew it was exactly as she pictured in her mind: bloody and torn.

  Roscoe gave her a double-take. “Are you crying?”

  She shook her head, shaking a tear loose and trying to hide it.

  “May, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay! I keep seeing her eyes staring back at me and I just want it to stop.”

  He set a hand on hers and squeezed. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

  She turned to him, voice trembling “What do you think it all means?”

  “I think it means it’s time you embraced your newfound power. Don’t think of it as a curse; think of it as a gift.” He slowed for another red light, left hand gripping the wheel at twelve o’clock. “You know what? Let’s stop and buy a lottery ticket.”

  She almost laughed, angrily swiping at her shiny cheeks. “Let’s not and never say we did.”

  “I’m totally serious! Listen, there’s no reason we can’t profit from this.” His gaze narrowed. “And let me tell you something else, there’s a reward for information leading to Holly’s killer.”

  “I don’t want to find the killer.”

  The light flipped to green and he punched it. “Why not? With your psychic skills and my powers of deduction, we could turn this into a legitimate business. Track down killers and ghosts; get a reality show, and open a string of paranormal-themed bars to go with it. I’m telling you, ya gotta think big picture here, May. We’re talking the complete experience for the client,” he said, counting on his fingers. “Movies, mugs, beach towels. You name it, we got it.”

  Resting an elbow on the door, she leaned her head against a palm and watched the world leisurely go about their business like nothing ever happened. They’re lack of urgency sent a splinter of frustration beneath her skin. “I want my old job back.”

  “Did you try calling Sherry today?”

  “Yep, she told me to come by and get my last check.”

  Roscoe grimaced. “Man, that is such a bitch move to make you walk back in there with your tail between your legs like that. So, embarrassing.”

  “Tell me about it. I asked her to mail it to me and she hung up.”

  “Pfft! I will always cut a check right then and there and tell them later with your face, chump change.” Grimly, he shook his head. “I don’t want fired-employees coming back into my bar with a gun or Samurai sword.” Roscoe whipped into the bar’s parking lot and stopped by the glass front doors. The place was closed on Sundays and Malin’s car was all alone. She stared at it, silently cursing herself for leaving the top down all night. Somebody probably stole the CDs from the center console that didn’t lock and she couldn’t afford new ones, and without a wireless input to connect her phone, she would be relegated to the radio and this thought alone left her wincing against the sunlight gleaming off the red paint.

  Jamming it in park, Roscoe took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a slow breath. “I’m sorry, May. If Sherry knew the real reason you left work, she’d give you a raise for trying to help Holly Banner’s family because that’s what you deserve. You were just trying to help and it’s bullshit you got penalized for it.”

  “But I didn’t help. I failed her.”

  “You did the best you could with what you had, and in the end, you sacrificed your job trying to do the right thing.”

  She took his hand in hers, a faint smile creeping back into the lines of
her mouth. “Thank you for going with me yesterday. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Roscoe Weaver.”

  He smiled back, a fond look softening his eyes. “And I’m going to make room for you on my team and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Thank you, but you don’t have to do that.”

  “Of course I do, you’re my best friend.” He paused to think on something for a second. “I’ll have to cut Brandy’s shifts back a bit but we’ll make it work.”

  “Brandy?”

  “New waitress, but don’t worry, I can give her some extra hours cleaning my apartment.”

  Malin raised an eyebrow.

  “In a French maid outfit.”

  Her lips pressed together.

  “With a feather duster and crotchless panties.”

  “Okay then,” she replied, popping the door and getting out. “I said I don’t know what I’d do without you, but I’m beginning to get an idea.” Slamming it shut, she turned for her car basking in the sunshine, hair already on fire.

  The window hummed as he lowered the glass. “You wanna grab some dinner tonight? We can talk about Holly if you want.”

  “I don’t want,” she said, fishing around in her purse. “And I’m having dinner with my mom tonight.”

  “Good! Let her read your tarot cards and find out what the hell is going on because something is definitely going on.” Tipping his chin down, he peered at her over the top of his sunglasses. “Promise me you’ll tell her everything.”

  Pulling some keys out, she gave him a weak smile. “Okay.”

  “And think of a good name for our new paranormal bar and grill! Something like: Spirits Lounge or…The Frankenstein.” His eyebrows went up. “Get it? Because it has the word stein in it. Like a beer stein?”

  Malin snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “The Bloody Mary.”

  He inhaled sharply. “I love it!”

  “Bye Felicia,” she sang out, opening her door. “And stop texting Lisa!” He said something back but she didn’t catch it as she climbed inside the Miata and started the engine. Rolling the top up to block out the blistering sun, she wished it could block out Holly’s dead eyes as well, but it couldn’t. They were still there. Watching.

  Malin sighed. Maybe Roscoe was right. Maybe this time, her mother’s superstitious bullshit could help instead of hinder. Pulling the console up, she breathed out a sigh of relief and followed Roscoe out of the lot, blending into traffic with Holly’s accusatory eyes following her every move.

  Chapter7

  A team of ancient oaks, pines and birch trees huddled over the old gray house, shielding it from the late afternoon sun like protective grandmothers. Malin stared at the welcome sign hanging crookedly on the front door, straightening a Kinks t-shirt and considering her options. A) she could leave, or B) she could knock. The marching band still banging around inside her head made her lean towards the former. She was in no mood for small talk but missing Sunday dinner would get her a one-way ticket to never-hearing-the-end-of-it-ville. Not to mention, this was the only connection they had left and, despite certain quirks that came with it, Malin didn’t want to lose it. She was an only child and could count her family members on one hand.

  Unfortunately, the greasy fish sandwich and onion rings from a late lunch at Culver’s were still roiling around in her stomach and whatever was waiting on the other side of this black door would probably make her gag. She groaned just thinking about Luna’s garden in the backyard. Her mother considered eating a spiritual practice, a way of acknowledging where the food came and giving thanks for the healing properties within. Eating clean was as important to Luna as her sage and spice. Outside of her own garden, she consumed only from the gardens of a tightknit circle of friends, including some local farmers she considered American heroes. Homemade dinners often came in the form of raw vegan lasagna and carrot ginger snap soup and, now that Malin thought about it, never hearing the end of it would be better than whatever was waiting behind door number one. Turning on her red Chucks, she ordered her lethargic legs into action and the door cracked open behind her.

  “May?”

  She froze in her tracks, staring at the red convertible that was so close, yet so far away.

  “Where are you going?”

  Turning to face the bony woman standing in the doorway, a sheepish smile shaped Malin’s lips. “I left my phone in the car,” she said, thumbing behind her.

  Luna glanced at the Miata parked next to a Taurus in the drive, the wind pulling coal black hair over the shoulders of a long white dress. “What do you need your phone for?”

  “I-I guess I don’t.”

  “Well, come in before all the cold air gets out.”

  Malin crossed the threshold and shivered as though she just walked over someone’s grave. Apprehension tightened her chest. “Hi mom,” she said, kissing her powdery cheek and slipping inside the house that doubled as Luna’s home office for Reiki treatments and card readings. The living room was now the meditation room, decked out with weird treasures adorning the walls: dream catchers, crosses, mirrors, skeleton keys, and thin wall sconces that barely gave off any light. Most clients probably thought they were just decor but they weren’t. Each one had a distinct purpose that did not go unused.

  Luna shut the door, plunging them into a cold darkness that smelled of incense and herbs.

  Malin stepped over some floor pillows, careful not to roll an ankle. “Do you ever open the drapes in here?”

  Resting her hands on her hips, Luna’s elbows fanned the dress out like angel wings. “What’s wrong?”

  Malin frowned at her. “Nothing. Why?”

  “Something happened, didn’t it?”

  Folding her arms across her chest, she fought back a tremor. “Nothing happened,” she answered, suddenly deciding she was too tired to tell Luna the truth. Malin’s headache was kicking harder with each breath of burning incense and she was in no mood for Ouija boards and crystal balls. Not today.

  “Tell me right now, Malin Waterhouse.”

  Malin laughed a little and it came out weird. “Will you stop? Nothing happened.”

  Wings spread, Luna squeezed her dark eyes into investigatory slits. A grandfather clock calmly chimed six times against a wall beneath the stairs.

  Malin’s stomach dropped. Luna could smell Holly Banner on her and it made her fidget. “Can we please not do this today?”

  Studying her daughter for a moment longer, she dropped her wings and rushed across the room. The long dress dusted the floor, making it appear as if Luna were floating on thin air. She snatched something from a crystal bowl on the coffee table and stopped in front of Malin. “Here, take this.”

  Malin stared at the purple amethyst she placed in her palm. “Mom…”

  “I know you’re not telling me the truth.” Luna forced her fingers shut around the stone. “This will protect you when you can’t protect yourself.”

  Sighing, she slipped it into the pocket of her skinny jeans, battling an eye roll.

  Luna took a step back to inspect her again. “You look tired.”

  “So I’ve heard.” She dropped her purse into an armchair. “What’s for dinner?” she boldly asked, tightening her ponytail.

  “Chickpea salad with blueberry dressing.”

  Malin followed her into the kitchen, cringing at all the greens spread across the Formica countertops. It was worse than she thought. She hated chickpeas and her mom didn’t need psychic powers to know it. Luna put just as much into her weird meals as she did her silly banishing spells and fertility charms and it had been that way Malin’s entire life. Just once, she would like Hawaiian pizza for dinner but oh no! Not when pigs mourn every loss in their little pig herd.

  Pfft!

  “So, how is work?” Luna asked, dishing up two plates and glancing at Malin out the corner of an eye.

  Recoiling at the question, Malin pulled a chair out from the round table she wished more people were sitting at to relieve some of
the pressure of having to talk to her mother one on one for an entire meal. Usually, Aunt Autumn and Great Aunt Esther would join them for Sunday dinners at this round fucking table where they discussed love spells gone right or wrong while Malin quietly picked at her funny smelling food. “Work is…good.” She tapped her nails against the table. “Where’s everyone else at?”

  “Autumn is working late tonight and Aunt Esther is on a spiritual retreat for the next two weeks.” Luna cast her a sideways look that made her skin crawl. “So, how’s construction on the new store coming along? You must be getting very excited to be the manager.”

  Malin struggled to mask a cringe. “It’s going good.”

  “That is so wonderful, honey. Hey, are you working tomorrow?”

  She watched Luna grab some forks she’d had since Malin was in the first grade, tensing with the line of questioning revolving around her place of employment. Her mother could smell the lies on her breath, right there with the brandy and North Atlantic cod.

  “Yep.”

  “Perfect!” Luna set two steaming plates on the table, wrenching Malin’s gut. “Violet is coming into town tomorrow and I want to bring her by your work. We will be in the neighborhood.” She lowered her voice as if letting her daughter in on some juicy secret. “They are having a sale on candles and herbs at The Mystical Moon tomorrow.” Nodding slowly, her thin eyebrows rose into her forehead.

  Uncrossing her legs, Malin shifted in the wooden chair. “Oh wait, what’s tomorrow? Monday? I forgot, Roxanna switched shifts with me and I’m actually off tomorrow.”

  “Oh really? Well, when do you work next? Violet will be here all week.” Luna hit her with a smug smile that turned Malin’s blood cold.

  “I think Wednesday; let me check and get back to you.”

  Luna dropped off two glasses of ice tea, dark eyes glimmering beneath suspicious slits. Taking a step back, she set her hands on her hips, spreading her damn white wings again. “What aren’t you telling me, Maymoon?”

  Malin sighed. She could never keep anything from her mother, who consistently credited her mystical powers of insight to their family tree dating back to the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. Using a fork, Malin pushed the chickpea salad around her plate, trying not to think about Holly Banner. Luna would sense it and the whole thing would only frighten her into an incessant buzz of spells and charms. But Malin had to give her something. Something big. “I…I got fired.”