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

by Flint Maxwell

  “Sure, sure,” Gramps said. “It’s his funeral.”

  Sherlock growled at Gramps and threw him a nasty glance. Bacon isn’t much better. Talk about clogging the arteries.

  “He says bacon isn’t good for you, either,” Maria said.

  “Oh, well, it’s my funeral,” Gramps said absently. “You work today?”

  “Wouldn’t be up this early if I didn’t. Another day in hell to look forward to.”

  Gramps’s face turned serious. “Maria, you mustn’t let anyone know about your abilities. They are going to keep coming, and coming fast, taking you by surprise. You must be prepared for that. But we don’t want the Silver Griffins to be suspicious. It’s best we handle this situation on our own. They could get in the way of what we have to do.”

  “What do we have to do?” Maria wanted to know.

  “We have to go to Oriceran. We have to teach you the ways of magic. We have to open a way into the world in between.”

  “All while not getting killed or losing the music box to this giant spider-man, right?”

  “Him, I’m not worried about. He won’t strike the house again, now that he knows we know he’s after us.”

  “How does he know?”

  “You fled and he followed you, I’m sure.”

  Maria shivered with the thought of a giant spider chasing her through the dark streets of Akron while she pedaled her girly bicycle.

  “If he wanted to get into the house, he would’ve. But he must’ve sensed that the music box was gone.”

  Maria needed to sit down. “Wow,” she said. “I was this close to being killed by an alien.”

  You’re going to be killed by a dog if you don’t feed me soon, Sherlock growled.

  The refrigerator’s door opened, and the cake fell to the floor. Nobody had touched the fridge or the cake. It just moved on its own.

  Gramps smirked. “Oughta shut him up for a few hours. Two minutes of gobbling the cake down, and then a two hour food-coma nap.”

  “Will I be able to do stuff like that? You know, move stuff with my mind?”

  “I believe you will be able to do so much more than that, Maria. You are of a special kind. Your mother would be proud.”

  That was an odd sentiment. Maria had never known her mother, but the thought of actually meeting her someday had crossed her mind, only it was in the afterlife.

  Still, Maria, there’s plenty of people who are not dead. People you can save. People you have to save.

  “It looks like our friend Malakai isn’t being as careful as I thought he’d be,” Gramps ascertained. He handed the newspaper to Maria, and she read the small headline in the community section.

  LOCAL BUSINESS OWNER SPOTS GIANT SPIDER.

  Beneath it was a short article about the number of calls flooding the Akron Police Department, all of them reporting sightings of the same giant spider. The sightings were always at night and, though the descriptions were sometimes off, one thing remained true throughout…the people who’d seen it reported glowing red eyes.

  “Ew, I don’t want to read that,” Maria said, pushing the newspaper away.

  “It’s important. Malakai is no fool. Dead or not, he’s dangerous. He knows people have seen him in his true form. In order to prevent future instances, he’ll use a cloaking spell to disguise himself. He could be anyone. He could even be me…” Gramps said.

  Maria eyed him. “Don’t, Gramps,” she said firmly.

  “I’m just warning you. You must be cautious. Agnes, Salem, and the Muffler twins will look out for you, but we can’t be there to hold your hand every step of the way.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to. I’m nineteen. Giant spider-men don’t scare me. I can take them.”

  Gramps smiled with his perfect white dentures. “Ah, you are so much like your mother, Maria.”

  “My mother, the Queen Witch,” she tried the words in her mouth. “How weird.”

  They ate their breakfast, and Sherlock polished off the cake, leaving blue icing around his lips. Maria didn’t bother telling him about it, because that made it funnier.

  She threw on her work apron and went outside to wait for Claire to pick her up. Even on days when Claire didn’t work, she’d swing by, driving the two miles to Maria’s house, and give Maria a ride. When Maria insisted that Claire didn’t have to do that, Claire would just shake her head and say, ‘That’s what friends are for. Plus, I just love driving. If we were to ever rob a bank, I’d want to be the getaway driver.’

  “Oh, Maria!” Gramps called. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Maria looked back, confused.

  Sherlock walked slowly to the door, feeling dejected that Maria had forgotten him.

  “Sherlock?” Maria said.

  “It’s for the best, since you two are on talking terms now. You and Sherlock have always been connected. You communicate on a plane of reality not many Oricerans can reach.” He smiled, his eyes hazy with memory. “Just like your mother.”

  “Well, this is certainly not the reaction I was expecting. I was expecting more of a ‘Hold-on-Maria-while-I-call-the-psych-ward,’ but I’m glad to be wrong.”

  Gramps chuckled. “If talking to a dog is considered crazy, then we should’ve been in the loony bin a long time ago.”

  Claire honked the horn again. She didn’t want to be late.

  “Well, c’mon, Sherlock.”

  I’m coming, I’m coming. Need to walk off this cake.

  “You need to learn self-control.” Maria opened the door and gave Claire a wave. Claire didn’t wave back. She scowled.

  I’m a dog; there’s no such thing as self-control.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She leaned over and kissed her grandfather on one cheek. “I’ll be back a little late tonight. I’m going to go to the gym and do some kickboxing. Gotta get fit if I’m gonna beat up any Arachnids.” She grinned, but Gramps didn’t think it was funny. She rolled her eyes. “Kidding, kidding. Just need to blow off some steam.”

  “Just be careful, Maria.”

  “I will.”

  Outside, Claire wailed from the driver’s seat, “Aw, not the smelly dog again.”

  I just ate almost an entire cake. She’s really going to hate me.

  “Plug it up, Sherlock.”

  If only.

  “Don’t worry,” Maria fibbed, “he hasn’t had breakfast yet.”

  “Really?” Claire said. “Because it looks like he’s about to blow.”

  Maria glanced down at Sherlock. He looked about eight months pregnant.

  “No worries,” she said. Then to Sherlock, “You’d better hold it in.”

  They drove to the mall with all the windows down, but it didn’t do much to cover the stench.

  I tried my best, Sherlock whimpered.

  Maria ignored him.

  Claire parked the car. “Ah, another day in hell—I mean, paradise.”

  Maria chuckled.

  “You go ahead. I’m gonna walk Sherlock first. I’ll see you inside.”

  “You should just keep him out here. Tie him to the tree or let him loose in the dumpster. I bet he’d love that.”

  Sherlock’s tail thumped the back seat.

  I would. I really would. Imagine all the Chinese food they throw away on a daily basis!

  “No, sir; you’re stuck with popcorn today, Sherlock.” Maria opened the door and got out.

  “Popcorn?” Claire asked. “That can’t be healthy.”

  Maria shrugged. “Hey, it’s technically a vegetable.”

  Both girls laughed. Claire went in the Employees Only entrance while Maria walked Sherlock.

  “Smell anything?”

  Only that delicious dumpster and some stale tobacco smoke.

  “Good. Yesterday, a creepy guy was watching me from the parking lot.” Maria shivered.

  Who was it?

  “I’m pretty sure it was Duke. It definitely wasn’t a giant spider.”

  Sherlock lifted his leg and marked his te
rritory on a row of bushes. A landscaper was trimming the other end of the bushes. He looked up and gave Maria a glare.

  “Sorry!” she said sheepishly, waving her hand. “Great,” she muttered to Sherlock. “Now not only am I on a giant spider’s shit-list, but I’m also on Gary the gardener’s. Today is shaping up to be just peachy. Try not to piss on anyone else’s roses, please.”

  No promises.

  “You finished?” she asked, exasperated.

  Yeah, I could use some popcorn.

  Maria sighed. “It’s just gonna be you and I at the Popcorn Palace today. Beth comes in at four to replace me. I doubt Ted will even show up; if he does, you have to hide or act like you’re a stray. Shouldn’t be too hard, considering how much you smell.”

  If you ever go blind, I’m going to volunteer to be your seeing-eye dog, and I’m going to lead you right off a cliff, Sherlock said.

  “Aw, that’s so sweet. But know I’m taking you down with me.”

  Sherlock stood up on his hind legs and gave Maria a kiss. One giant,wet swipe of his tongue.

  “Love you, Sherlock.”

  I licked a dead squirrel this morning, just so you know.

  “Bleh,” Maria said, swiping the dog spit from her face. “I take back everything good I’ve ever said about you.”

  Oh, wow, three sentences. That’s mighty fine of you, Maria.

  She tugged on the leash. “C’mon. Popcorn isn’t going to pop itself.” Then she remembered yesterday how the popcorn kind of did pop itself, and she shook her head, thinking, Magic.

  ***

  It was a normal day at the Popcorn Palace. Rolling Hill Mall’s business was going down the drain. Weekends were all right, but on weekdays, hardly anyone came in. Not to mention that the popcorn place opened at ten in the morning, with the rest of the stores. Who in their right mind wants popcorn this early?

  The only people walking around the mall were the senior citizens decked out in their workout gear — running shoes, sweatpants with the reflective stripe down the side of the leg, sweatshirts and headbands, odometers around their necks, and fresh coffee in their hands. They were the walkers. No, not walkers as in ‘zombies,’ but walkers as in ‘the folks who walked laps around the mall’.

  Maria didn’t mind them. They were always friendly, and most of them were interesting—except for the occasional creepy old guy who’d offer Maria a ride on his Harley or his boat. Yeah, I’m totally going to hop on the back of a Harley with a guy three times my age that I barely know.

  So far today, no creepy old dudes had bothered her.

  Claire stood outside of the Sephora store, passing out coupons to the walkers. Most refused them, and others grabbed them out of courtesy, but as soon as they turned the corner, they crumpled them up into little balls and tossed them into the trashcan.

  Sherlock lay by Maria’s feet. All the morning work was done. Popcorn had been popped, cotton candy made (which Sherlock loved, by the way), kettles cleaned, stock list for the night person written—all of it, done. Now she just had to wait for her shift to be done…in five more hours.

  “I don’t think people who are part-magic should have to be bored like the rest of society,” she mused.

  Don’t get too big for your britches, Maria, Sherlock warned. You may have the ability to use magic, but you’re not supposed to.

  “I know, I know. Silver Griffins and all that jazz. But I used a lot of magic yesterday, and didn’t see any of those.”

  Maybe, Sherlock said. They’re always watching.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  No, don’t do any magic. Gramps said—

  “Can it. You’re not my babysitter—”

  “Uh, excuse me, are you talking to yourself?” an old woman interrupted their bickering. It was the same customer Maria had chased down the day before after Ted had ripped her off.

  Maria smiled, feeling the heat of embarrassment burn her cheeks. “Uh, yeah, I was. You know, gotta psyche myself up to keep going.”

  “How sweet,” the old woman said.

  Maria nodded and smiled. “Well, what can I get for you today?”

  “Oh, dear, I don’t want anything. I had to stop by to pick up my glasses,” the old woman said. She motioned to the reading glasses hanging around her neck on a ball chain. “I wanted to see if you were here, though. I can’t express my gratitude enough for going out of your way yesterday and bringing my correct change back. If my husband was still alive, I don’t think I would’ve let that mean man swindle me like that. Surely, Earl wouldn’t have let it happen.” She looked away, toward the napkin dispensers on the front counter. “But Earl’s been dead two years now, and I’m sort of lost without him. We were together for fifty-three years.”

  Maria reached out and put a hand on top of the old woman’s. “I’m sorry."

  “Thank you.” She put her large purse on the counter and began rummaging through it. There were no other customers in sight, so Maria didn’t mind.

  “Here,” the old woman said, pulling a tray covered in Saran wrap out from her purse. How she fit that inside, Maria didn’t know. Old women’s purses were a wonder that way; a certain type of magic not even the people of Oriceran would understand.

  Smells good! Sherlock said.

  Maria scooted him away from the counter and back between the ice chest and coke machine, where she laid out a makeshift bed made of coats she’d gotten from the lost and found bin.

  “Can it,” Maria whispered.

  The old woman pushed the tray across the counter. “For you. I made them for you.”

  Maria felt her heart swell with adoration. Growing up with Gramps, the home cooking, naturally, had been odd. Those weird recipes featuring tree root and mud now made sense, but it didn’t make the memories anymore pleasant.

  “Brownies and cookies,” the woman offered with a smile. She had kind eyes.

  Maria leaned over the counter and hugged her. “Thank you so much.”

  “No, thank you, young lady. Doing the right thing goes a long way in this world.”

  Or in any world, Maria thought, because there are other worlds besides Earth.

  “And not many people seem to do the right things these days. You gave me hope. Hope has not been around much in my life since Earl passed.”

  Maria took a cookie—peanut butter—broke it in half, stuck one half in her mouth, and slyly let the other drop in front of Sherlock. He ate noisily.

  “I’m glad I could help,” Maria said, around a mouthful of cookie. “Delicious, by the way.”

  The old lady smiled and stuck her hand out. “My name is Prudence George.”

  Maria took her hand. “Maria Apple. Nice to meet you.”

  “I’ll think I’ll be around more often, if you’re working,” Prudence said. “My doctor says I need to get more walking in. But my tired old bones say otherwise.” She winked at Maria.

  Maria, laughing, stuck another cookie into her mouth. It was chocolate chip, and it was delicious in that special way a grandma’s homemade cookies always were.

  “Well, I must be going,” Prudence excused herself. “Thank you again for all your help.”

  “Thank you for the goodies!” Maria enthused.

  Maybe today isn’t turning out so bad, after all.

  Ooooh, Sherlock mocked, jolting Maria out of her daydream, I’m Maria Apple and all the old folks like me. Oooh.

  “That’s it. No more treats for you, Sherlock,” Maria said.

  Aw, what? I was just kidding. Pleeeeeeease? he begged.

  Maria rolled her eyes, broke off a piece of another peanut butter cookie, and gave it to Sherlock. “Fine. Only if you promise to let me know when you have to go to the bathroom.”

  Sherlock didn’t answer in words. Instead, he barked. It was now a weird sound to Maria.

  “Gosh, I’m actually getting used to my talking dog. Maybe I should check myself into the loony bin,” she said.

  CHAPTER TEN

  At about noon, Maria
locked up the safe and the cash register to take her mandatory fifteen-minute break. The first of the two she was entitled to by Ohio state law. She wasn’t really hungry, but Claire was on her break, too, and really had a thing for the cute Chinese guy who worked at Panda Express. She’d always get fried rice and bourbon chicken, but then rarely ever ate it.

  That was all right. If she did it today, Maria would just give it to Sherlock. That damn dog was more vacuum cleaner than canine.

  “Hey, Kenny,” Claire greeted her crush, waving.

  Ken Cho looked up and smiled at Claire. Maria felt the sparks, and as soon as Ken turned his head, Maria started to make kissing noises.

  “Cut it out,” Claire said, mortified.

  “Oh, you did it to me yesterday with Joe.”

  Claire grimaced. “You’re right. Sorry.”

  “Whoa! Did Claire actually apologize? Someone call the historians. That’s a first!”

  “Not funny,” Claire said, elbowing her. “Come up to the counter with me. I don’t want to go by myself.”

  “Okay, but make it snappy. I’ve only got about thirteen minutes now.”

  Sherlock walked by them. Hardly anyone even gave them a stare. Some of the food court employees actually called out to Sherlock, and he walked around like he owned the place, strutting like a model on the runway. The guy who was passing out free samples of Chicken California at Charley’s Grilled Subs gave Sherlock one, and he sat and even gave the guy a handshake. The dog was in heaven.

  “What should I order?” Claire asked.

  “How about some lo mein with a side of orange chicken?” Maria suggested, knowing that Claire wouldn’t end up eating it, and Maria would basically get a free meal.

  “Yuck. Orange chicken? Chickens aren’t orange…are they?”

  Maria shrugged. “They could be, you know, if you painted it.”

  Claire snorted. “You’re hilarious, Maria. Absolutely hilarious!”

  “I’ll be here all week,” Maria said, bowing.

  They got to the counter. Ken went out of his way to take Claire’s order. Claire ordered the usual—fried rice and bourbon chicken—which was not Maria’s favorite. She was sure Sherlock would help keep it from going to waste, though.