The Midwest Witch: The Revelations of Oriceran (Midwest Magic Chronicles Book 1)

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The Midwest Witch: The Revelations of Oriceran (Midwest Magic Chronicles Book 1) Page 9

by Flint Maxwell


  “But ‘Apple’? C’mon, Gramps.”

  At least it’s not as bad as ‘Sherlock,’ the dog said.

  Maria glared at him. “Thought you liked that name.”

  It’s a little too…cliché. I’ve always wanted something more badass, like ‘Killer’ or ‘Macho’.

  “But you’re not badass. You don’t even bark at squirrels anymore. You just sniff the dead ones, and let the cars and power lines do the dirty work for you.”

  That’s beside the point.

  Maria rolled her eyes, and then looked around the table. No one seemed to have paid any mind to her having a conversation with her dog. Yeah, too weird, she thought.

  “I didn’t see you with a baby when Duke showed me what happened,” Maria said, wanting to get back to the story. She felt safe in the ice cream shop, surrounded by people who understood.

  “That was because the first time I portaled out of the throne room, I’d gone back to Zimmy’s hideout.”

  “The Queen Witch,” Maria said.

  Gramps nodded.

  “May she rest in peace,” the Muffler twins said at the same time.

  “What did you find?” Maria asked.

  Gramps lowered his head, but a smile came across his face. I found…you.”

  “Me!?” Maria said. “What do you mean?”

  “The Arachnids had found the Queen Witch’s hideout. She was powerful, but no being is a match for hordes of Arachnids—especially Arachnids whose very blood runs as dark as the magic they use. She sacrificed herself to save a child, the last infant in our village—my granddaughter. When I’d gotten to the cave and I saw the light, that glowing blue orb of light, I rushed toward it. Luckily for me, she’d killed all the Arachnids before she herself passed on.”

  “So when Duke went through, you were portaling to the Queen Witch’s hideout?” Maria asked.

  Gramps nodded. “Yes. I had the music box, and only she could access the world in between with it. She was my daughter, I had to save her. But I was too late, and there you were, protected by her spell, in a bubble of pale blue light, smiling with no teeth as if nothing happened. I left the cave, clutching you to my chest. The smoke was thick, but I could still see the fires burning all over the village. I could see the Arachnids scouring the land, ruining everything. I could see that we had lost, and that I had no choice but to leave.”

  “But Duke?”

  “I’d thought I’d already sent him to Earth by way of the portal, but sometimes things go wrong. On that day, a lot of things did. Duke landed in the world in between, where he died the moment he entered the portal.” Gramps hung his head.

  Salem patted him on the back. “There, there,” he said. “It’s not all bad. Now we have Maria.”

  “You’ve always had me,” Maria said.

  “A year too late, I’m afraid,” Ginny Muffler said.

  “Oh, be quiet, you,” Agnes said. “There’s no negativity in this house of ice cream.”

  “What does she mean?” Maria found herself asking. She had so many questions that she found herself asking whichever one popped into her head first.

  “She means,” Gramps began, “that you were supposed to come into your powers last year, at the age of eighteen. Had we been on Oriceran, I think you would’ve… or perhaps even earlier.”

  “A late bloomer,” Agnes soothed, “is better than a no-bloomer.” She smiled and stroked Maria’s hair. “Welcome to the club.”

  “Hear! Hear!” Salem said, raising his mostly-empty mug. “To Maria Apple and her future.”

  They all raised their glasses, clinked them together, and drank. Sherlock barked.

  “I still have so many questions,” Maria said.

  “We all do,” Gramps said.

  “The village. Duke said they are still alive but are trapped in the world in between,” Maria said.

  Gramps nodded. “I feared that.”

  “ ‘Feared’?” Maria said, cocking her head.

  “Sometimes I think it would’ve been better for them to have died in the battle. The world in between is a harsh limbo. I cannot even imagine what such a thing does to one’s mind.”

  “Why wasn’t I hidden?” Maria asked.

  “Because,” Gramps explained, “you were the Queen Witch’s daughter. She knew that if we lost, you would be the key to getting them out; though I did not realize that myself until much later.”

  “Me?” Maria said, breathless. “Holy shit, what a day. You know that’s a lot of pressure to put on someone? Saving an entire village, and all that.”

  “Not only that,” Salem added. “If whatever attacked the house was Malakai, or another agent of the Arachnids, it might be up to you to save the world.”

  “Oh, geez—” Maria began.

  “But it can’t be Malakai,” Ginny Muffler said. “He’s dead.”

  “And I thought I was safe here,” Gramps sighed. “Such a fool I’ve been.”

  Maria reached for the buckeye ice cream on the table, which was half-melted and not hers. She spooned it greedily into her mouth.

  “Not just one world,” Agnes amended. Her crazy gray hair shook when she spoke. “But possibly two worlds. Oriceran and Earth are getting closer and closer to lining up; if we don’t stop this thing soon, chaos will reign over them both.”

  “What about the Silver Griffins?” Fredrick Muffler asked. “Do you think we could ask for protection?”

  Agnes shook her head. “No, they don’t pick sides. As long as there’s magic in the air, they’ll throw anyone in Trevilsom.”

  “Damn,” Fredrick said. “I need more ice cream.”

  “Me too,” Ginny said.

  “Another round,” Salem said, taking a big drag from his pipe. The smoke smelled sweet, unlike tobacco or anything Maria had ever smelled before.

  Oriceran weed, she thought, shaking her head.

  “Why was I a late bloomer? Why did it take so long for the magic to come to me, and how the hell do I control it?” Maria asked.

  Good questions, Sherlock said. I’d love to stay and find out the answers, but I’ve really got to pee.

  “You know where the bathroom is. You’ve been here before,” Maria whispered.

  Uh, I’m a dog. It doesn’t work like that.

  “You talk like a human, so go to the bathroom like a human,” Maria said.

  “Is Sherlock giving you trouble?” Gramps said. “Oh, what I’d give to hear him talk.” He bent down and rubbed the Bloodhound on the back of his neck. A look of pure enjoyment overtook Sherlock’s droopy face.

  “Thought you had to pee,” Maria said.

  No, no, this is too nice.

  When Gramps finally stopped petting him, Sherlock let himself out, nudging the door open with his nose.

  Gramps continued to answer Maria’s questions.

  “Sometimes, away from the magic of Oriceran, things go wrong. It’s a fact of our magical lives. I’d given up waiting for you to come into your powers. A year had passed without any sign of your abilities. On Oriceran, a week late is considered a late bloomer. Oriceran and Earth are connected, they are sort of like siblings. So a year was far too long, and I’d given up hope. That, I shouldn’t have done, Maria. One thing to remember in your life is to never give up hope. Never give up hope at all, even when all else seems lost.”

  “But then you gave me this,” Maria prompted, motioning to the music box.

  “Yes. So many years had passed that I tried to put that horrid part of my life behind me. Then your birthday came up, and I figured it would be the perfect gift. Even if you never knew it was your mother’s, it was only right for you to have a piece of her legacy. Deep down, I didn't think it would bring this much trouble to you. I should’ve warned you.”

  Maria put her hand on her grandfather’s and squeezed. “Don’t worry about it, and thank you,” she said.

  Sherlock returned, looking a few pounds lighter after emptying his bladder.

  “Now,” Gramps’s tone changed. “
We must prepare you.”

  “Prepare me?” Maria asked, not sure what that could mean.

  “Yes,” Salem said, cutting in. “Each person is trained on Oriceran. Trained to harness their magical abilities.”

  “Oh, God, we’re not gonna have one of those ‘80s movie montages, or something, are we? Like in Rocky IV, right before he fights the Russian?”

  Gramps laughed. “No, Maria. It’s going to be much more difficult than that.”

  ***

  They left the ice cream shop about an hour later. The conversation was light and there was much laughter, but Maria still couldn’t believe what was happening to her.

  The moment of truth arose on their way home.

  Salem dropped them off at the house, with Maria’s girly bicycle in the trunk, and Agnes in the front seat.

  They approached the house cautiously, like cops during a drug raid.

  “It came from the back door,” Maria said.

  Agnes, Gramps, and Salem went around to the back, leaving Maria in the front under the cover of darkness until it was safe.

  Sherlock sniffed around in the grass nearby.

  “Smell him?” she asked.

  No, but I smell something.

  “What?”

  I think someone dropped a piece of candy in our front yard while walking down the street. Life Savers. Maybe a hot dog, too. He continued sniffing, going over the yard like an old man going over the beach with his metal detector.

  “You’d really eat one of your own kind?” Maria teased.

  Sherlock stopped sniffing and perked up. Eat one of my own kind? What do you mean?

  “Hot dog. What the heck did you think it was made of?”

  Meat?

  “Dog meat,” she said with a straight face.

  No! She could almost hear Sherlock gasp in her mind.

  “Yes. Sorry to disappoint you,” Maria said. “Now come back over here and wait until we’re in the clear. I could probably take this Malakai bastard by myself, but I don’t want to upset Gramps.”

  Dog? Really? How cruel you humans are!

  It was a lie, of course, but Maria didn’t think she was far off. Who really knew what they put in hot dogs?

  “Safe,” Salem’s voice called.

  “All right, let’s go,” Maria said. “And stay away from the food scraps. I’ll feed you when we get inside.”

  Sherlock perked up. Purina again, I suppose?

  “Hey, if you’re lucky I might let you have some of the leftover birthday cake from Claire.”

  Sherlock whipped his tail around. The mention of birthday cake made him seem five years younger.

  “Oh, shit, it’s chocolate. Dogs can’t have chocolate.”

  Sherlock lowered his head. Just my luck, he said.

  “Kidding!”

  Oh, you punk! He let out a playful bark.

  “Come on, let’s go.

  They went around the back. Salem and Agnes were studying the door while Gramps sat in one of the wicker chairs on the back porch, rubbing his knee.

  “Whoa!” Maria said.

  There was a mark on the metal that looked like a giant had punched it.

  “He did not look that big in Duke’s movie thing,” Maria frowned.

  “Yes, the Arachnids are quite big in comparison to humans, witches, and wizards. The comparison to Gnomes is even more breathtaking,” Agnes said.

  “Gnomes? Like the little garden gnomes you see on people’s lawns?”

  “No, much different. And should you ever see one, don’t mention garden gnomes. It really pisses them off. There’s a legal battle that has been going on for centuries about those little ceramic bastards,” Salem said, shrugging.

  “Good, I hate those creepy things. Every time I see one, I just want to throw it off the roof and watch it shatter,” Maria said.

  Agnes grinned as if she agreed.

  Salem studied the door closely.

  “He really did a number on it,” he confirmed. “But I don’t think he got inside. He must have sensed you and been scared away.”

  Sherlock sniffed around the threshold. He’s right, I don’t smell anything beyond.

  “Sherlock says we’re in the clear,” Maria said.

  The porch creaked as Gramps got up. “Can never be too safe,” he said. He began to sing. It was in the strange language that came from the music box, which was tucked under Maria’s right arm. When Gramps hit the last note, the house disappeared, revealing everything inside of it: their refrigerator, couch, television, and toilet.

  There was no giant spider.

  “Wow,” Maria breathed.

  The others looked at her with confusion.

  “Oh,” Agnes realized. “Magic, right. It’s all new to you.”

  “This is hands-down the craziest day I’ve ever had. I’ve been up way too long. I think I’m hallucinating. Did the house just turn invisible?”

  Gramps laughed. “Something like that. But it’s nothing compared to what we can do.”

  “Especially after we recharge with some ice cream,” Salem said, slyly, elbowing Agnes.

  “Ice cream? I’ve never heard that one before. Maybe Gatorade or Wheaties. But ice cream? I think I’m going to like this whole magic gig,” Maria decided.

  “Not just the ice cream,” Gramps said. He put his arm around Maria. “Ah, there’s so much for you to learn, my dear Maria. So much.”

  “Well, teach me,” Maria said.

  “In due time. You have made it quite clear that you have had a rough day. You need rest. Tomorrow, you and I shall look at all this with a fresh perspective.”

  Maria nodded. “Just tell me why it’s ice cream, then I’ll go.”

  Damn you, Maria, I’m tired.

  “Can it, Sherlock,” she said.

  “Salem’s Ice Cream Shop is built over a kemana—a place where magic flows like water from a river. We go there to recharge our abilities because magic is scarce on Earth, unlike on Oriceran. There’s a reason that whatever business takes that particular spot does so well. It’s because us magic folk—and there are a lot more of us than you think, Maria—always come in and buy whatever they’re selling,” Gramps said.

  “A disguise, of sorts,” Maria said, catching on.

  Salem nodded. “Exactly. I’m thankful it’s ice cream this time and not a spa, like it was back in the eighties. Oh boy, how weird did us men look going to get our feet massaged and our toenails trimmed?” He laughed.

  “Well,” Gramps said, “thank you all so much for the help. I had a wonderful time with you guys.”

  Agnes leaned down and kissed Gramps on the cheek, and Maria saw him blush.

  “If you need us, call. We’ll keep a close eye on the place,” Agnes promised.

  “Yeah, we will,” Salem agreed.

  They turned to leave, and for the second time that day, Maria felt like her family had grown bigger.

  CHAPTER NINE

  She awoke to the sound of her alarm clock braying.

  “Aw, come on, you bastard. Just five more minutes,” she grumbled. Then she remembered she was magic, and tried to will herself to blow the clock to smithereens with her mind. With anything.

  Nothing happened.

  “Guess it doesn’t work that way,” she sighed, disappointed.

  ‘You have so much to learn, my dear Maria,’ Gramps had said the night before—the very weird night before.

  Sherlock snored at the foot of Maria’s bed, undisturbed by the loud blare of the alarm. She rolled over and hit the snooze button.

  Another day at the mall lay ahead of her.

  “Magic or not, that popcorn ain’t gonna pop itself,” she said.

  Sherlock twitched, his paws moving with whatever canine dream he was having.

  Dream… Maybe I dreamt all of that last night? she wondered.

  Then Sherlock’s voice filled her head. Are you going to stare at me all day while I sleep, or are you going to get up and fix us some breakfast? One eye opened.
>
  Maria laughed. “Ah, wasn’t a dream.” She got out of bed, went into the bathroom, showered, brushed her teeth, and then got dressed. She noticed in the mirror that she looked a bit different. Her hair seemed darker, shinier. Her body was more curvy, yet tight with muscle. She flexed. Her bicep didn’t bulge like a female bodybuilder’s, but it was there, visible.

  “I never work out with the weights, only hit the boxing bag. This must be…magic,” she laughed at her own joke. Then she stopped. “I’ve gotta quit talking to myself.”

  Get out of the bathroom and talk to me, Sherlock suggested. Over some leftover cake…like you promised.

  “I’ve also got to stop talking to my dog,” she contended. “People are going to think I’m crazy.”

  After she was done admiring her look in the mirror, she went downstairs to the smell of bacon and eggs. Gramps was already up. Like most people in the twilight of their life, he woke at the crack of dawn. He sat near the stove, a spatula in one hand and the newspaper in the other.

  “Morning, Maria,” he said, not looking up from the paper. There was a look of concern on his face. He wore a more-wrinkled-than-usual brow, and squinted eyes.

  “Morning, Gramps,” she said.

  “Sleep all right?”

  “Weird dreams. Not to mention Sherlock here kept kicking me.”

  Sherlock sat near the refrigerator, waiting for the cake.

  “I’m going to give him some cake for breakfast,” Maria said, almost as if she needed permission. Sherlock was her dog, after all. She didn’t need permission to feed him junk. And now that she could understand him and communicate with him, she thought of him as more than the family canine. He was now cemented as an eternal friend.

 

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