Midwest Magic Chronicles Boxed Set

by Flint Maxwell

  While Ignatius had sat at the Ves Ielan with a burning glass of Firejuice in front of him and a crowd of curious onlookers behind him, Claire had hung around the Apple’s house with Sherlock, watching the Soap Network. It was a rerun of this old canceled soap opera called Passions, and it was enjoyable…if a little weird. The town, which was called Harmony, even had a witch named Tabitha, which reminded Claire…she pulled her phone out and texted Tabby.

  Tabby responded almost instantly.

  She had invited Tabby to come over and wait for Maria to get back so they could find out if the date went well or not.

  Tabby replied by saying she was on her way, and not much later, Tabby arrived. Her dad was on his way into town and had dropped her off, though he thought she should’ve been in bed resting since her “accident,” which was definitely not explained to him as getting attacked by a giant humanoid spider.

  They watched Passions for a while; turned out the Soap Network was running an all-day marathon of the show.

  “This show is odd,” Tabby said.

  Sherlock was sitting on the couch between them. He thought the same thing.

  “I agree. We should play a board game or something. That’ll help pass the time until Maria comes back,” Claire said.

  “A board game? What are you, like, lame or something?” Tabby said.

  “No, but since I don’t know the Wi-Fi password, it would probably be better than sitting around watching this weird show or doing nothing.”

  Tabby shrugged. “Got a point there.”

  “I know Maria’s grandpa must have some weird board games, if he’s from another world and all that jazz. Maybe Jumanji.” Claire looked down at Sherlock. “Since I know you can understand me, can you show me where they are, instead of me rummaging through the house like some crazy burglar?”

  Sherlock looked up at her, wagging his tail. As far as he was concerned, Claire and him at Dog Prom was still a thing—though, truth be told, he didn’t exactly know what Dog Prom was; but it contained lots of techno music, a cat piñata, and an all you can eat garbage/Milkbone buffet.

  He zoned out thinking about it. When his eyes came back into focus, everything black and white, he was still staring at Claire and wagging his tail.

  “Sherlock, there’s food in it for you,” Claire said. “Whatever you want. Garbage included.”

  He stood up on the couch and thumped his tail harder, but instead of hitting the cushions, he hit Tabby in the face.

  “Ouch, quit it, Sherlock!”

  Now he jumped down and barked.

  He would show her where the board games were. Hell, he’d do almost anything for the promise of food. That was one of the few things he lived for—the others included serving his masters, chasing squirrels, finding dead squirrels, and now, peeing on Gnomes. What a rush!

  “Good boy!” Claire said, and that was the best thing she had ever said to him, especially when what she normally said to him almost always involved complaining about his farts. Whenever Dog Prom happened, Sherlock made a promise to himself to hold it all in just for Claire.

  He padded up the steps faster than normal. When he reached the top, he looked back down at Claire, who was slowly making her way, and barked at her. It wasn’t a mean bark, but it was one of urgency.

  “Coming, coming,” she said.

  Now he went down the hallway, moving so fast, he almost tripped on more than one occasion. Ignatius’s room was cracked open. All Sherlock had to do was nudge it the rest of the way with his nose. He was so excited and happy that when he did push the door open, he left some moisture behind on the wood from his snout.

  “Always feel weird going into this room,” Claire said. “Smells like Oriceran. Huh, funny that I know what that is, now.”

  Sherlock guided her to an odd looking chest up against the wall opposite Ignatius’s bed, next to his dresser. It looked like a pirate’s treasure chest, and it smelled like the sea. Sherlock wasn’t sure where he had gotten it, but he wouldn’t have been surprised at all if Ignatius had, in fact, stolen it from pirates.

  He barked at the chest—one of the many downsides to not having opposable thumbs.

  “In there?”

  He barked again. It’s so much easier communicating with Maria. Imagine if she would’ve been able to do that from birth. I’d probably have been able to pee on so many more Gnomes!

  Slowly, Claire knelt and opened the chest. It smelled like cinnamon so strongly, it tickled her nose. Inside were stacks of board games—Monopoly, Clue, Risk, Operation, and the endlessly entertaining Mouse Trap. But Claire didn’t think Tabby would go for any of those. They were suited for a much younger audience.

  She looked at Sherlock, who sat near her, watching with a canine intensity. “Looks like we’ll be watching that Passions marathon after all,” she said.

  Sherlock whined through his nose.

  Claire gathered all the dusty boxes to stuff them back into the chest where they came from. With the five boxes clutched to her side, she leaned over the chest and saw that she had forgotten one. It was half-buried under a scarf. She only saw the corner of it, but it looked quite worn and well used. She moved the scarf.

  Under it was a Ouija board; one of the originals, from the look of the box—or at least from the fifties. If Ignatius has only been on Earth since the mid-nineties, what is he doing with a Ouija board from what looks like the fifties?

  That man is one big mystery, Claire thought. But there was a smile on her face as she pulled the box out of the chest, blowing the dust off of it. It came away in a cloud, and both she and Sherlock broke out into a sneezing fit.

  “Think Tab will go for this?” she asked Sherlock once they got control of themselves. "I know we can't afford any messed up juju right now, but I think if we used the board right, we could maybe communicate with whoever Maria's trying to save. We could help instead of just sitting here on our asses. What do you say, Sherlock?"

  Sherlock barked. It sounded like a bark of approval to Claire.

  “Claire!” Tabby said. “Please tell me how to turn the channel on this TV! I can’t even figure out how to turn it off!”

  Claire snickered. There must’ve been some spell on the TV that prevented anyone but Ignatius from changing the channel. Clever old man, she thought.

  Claire went downstairs with Sherlock at her heels. Tabby was standing in front of the television, pressing every button visible with no luck.

  “Think outside of the box,” Claire said.

  “I am!”

  “No, literally think outside of the box.” Claire bent behind the television and pulled the plug free from the outlet. The TV snapped off with a click.

  “You must think you’re so clever,” Tabby said, crossing her arms.

  Claire shrugged.

  “I found this.” She showed Tabby the Ouija board game.

  “Whoa…” Absentmindedly, Tabby began smoothing the bandages under her chin.

  “I know, right? Everything else was, as you would put it, ‘lame’. I figured since you’re hardcore, that’d you’d be more interested in this.”

  Tabby took the box from Claire’s hands and looked it over like it was some fine piece of art. “You know me so well, Claire.”

  Claire beamed. “Sometimes, I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

  “Real funny.” Tabby stuck out her tongue.

  “C’mon, let’s go in the dining room.”

  They did, but not before Sherlock reminded Claire of what she promised. He went in the kitchen and barked his head off until Claire came in. She opened the fridge and let him take his pick. Sherlock wound up eating about a pound of sliced roast beef and, oddly enough, a bottle of horseradish.

  Doesn’t taste like horse, he thought.

  Claire thought it was pretty gross, especially seeing the horseradish smeared all over the Bloodhound’s muzzle. But I made a promise, and I never go back on my promises.

  Sherlock burped and laid down on the kit
chen tile. Just leave me here. I can die happy, now.

  Claire did, returning to the dining room.

  The lights were off, but a few candles sat flickering on the table. Claire and Tabby settled next to one another, obvious fear and excitement in their eyes.

  They set up the board, which was tattered and falling apart. Claire wondered why, but the answer came to her soon enough. Wasn’t Maria tasked with finding a way to get a village of people out of the world in between? Otherwise known to the commoner as a type of purgatory?

  Yep.

  Claire believed Ignatius probably picked up the Ouija board at a garage sale or something, and used it as much as he could, trying to communicate with his old village.

  “You ready?” Tabby asked.

  The game was fairly easy to set up. All it consisted of was the board, the wedge piece, which Tabby and Claire both had their fingers on lightly, and their fear.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Claire asked Tabby.

  Tabby grinned. “Seriously?”

  “Should’ve guessed.” But who am I kidding? She had never used a Ouija board before, but she had seen the horror movies where the characters would bring one out, and all hell would break loose. Of course, that wasn’t real…but neither were witches and wizards and magical worlds until the day before yesterday.

  Tabby went on anyway, unaware of Claire’s fear.

  “Are there any spirits here that want to communicate with us?”

  The wedge drifted to YES.

  “I didn’t do that,” Tabby said. “Look how lightly my fingers are on it.”

  Claire hadn’t done it, either. In fact, she sincerely hoped the wedge wouldn’t move at all, that Ouija boards were nothing but a gimmick.

  Amusement on Tabby’s face, she said, “What is your name?”

  Again, slowly, the wedge moved across the letters and stopped on ‘D,’ then traveled to ‘E.’ Two letters in, and Claire already knew what the spirit was going to spell.

  ‘DEATH’.

  She snapped her hand away. Not the time for that, she thought.

  “Claire! You can’t take your fingers off the wedge.”

  “Then stop moving it!”

  “I’m not. It was Mr. D-E,” Tabby answered.

  “You know what that’s going to spell, right? You’re not dumb.”

  “Delbert? Devin? Delilah? Demi?”

  “No,” Claire said. She was about ready to get up. The Soap Network wasn’t looking too bad compared to this…or maybe Clue.

  “Don’t be a baby. Sit back down,” Tabby said.

  Claire settled back in her chair and just as she reached her hand out to touch the wedge, the board cracked down the middle and a gash of misty blackness opened.

  “What the fuck?” Claire screamed. Tabby was knocked back out of her chair. She landed with a rattling thump.

  A long, black arm reached out of the gash in the board.

  “MARIAAAAA!” a ghostly voice croaked.

  The arm swiped at Claire. Sherlock came into the dining room, barking wildly at the black arm—which Claire realized was not a human arm at all, but a spider leg.

  “Close it! Close it!” Tabby was yelling. She was back on her feet, holding the overturned chair out in front of her like a shield.

  The leg still slapped at the table. A napkin dispenser fell over with a crash. Salt and pepper shakers rolled off the table. Claire lunged forward, her mouth silently screaming—or maybe screaming, she couldn’t hear much of anything over Sherlock’s barking.

  “MARIAAAAA APPPLEEEE!”

  The arm swiped, and Claire dodged it. She snagged the board and closed it in half. The spider leg stuck out from between the folded halves, but Claire pressed harder, trying to ignore its screaming. She could feel the dark energy resisting her. Tabby grabbed the box and held it open. Claire slammed the board into it, and Tabby put the top on. It bucked in her hands for a moment.

  Then it stopped.

  Sherlock kept barking, but Tabby and Claire hardly noticed. They just stared at each other.

  “See, I told you,” Claire finally said.

  “How was I supposed to know that a giant spider leg would pop out and try to strangle us?” Tabby said, defending herself.

  “At Maria’s house, anything is possible.”

  Their eyes both focused on the old Ouija board box.

  “I say we burn it,” Tabby said.

  “Or we put it in that warehouse they put the Ark of the Covenant in, Indiana Jones style,” Claire answered.

  “You’re so lame.”

  “At least I’m brave. Otherwise we would’ve been spider food.”

  “I’m never using a Ouija board again,” Tabby said.

  “Well let’s go put this back.”

  Tabby thrust the box out to Claire. Claire took it apprehensively.

  “I’m not going up there alone,” Claire said.

  “Sherlock will go, won’t you, boy?”

  Sherlock shook his head. Apparently, Bloodhounds were not immune to ghostly spider legs, either.

  “We all go up together. How about that?” Claire suggested.

  “Fine.”

  They went upstairs and put the box back in the chest with the other board games piled on top of it. After they shut the chest, Claire said it would probably be a good idea to lock it up, or at least set the dresser on it for good measure, but they weren’t strong enough for that, nor did they have a padlock—much less one that would protect them from ghosts. So they just closed Ignatius’s door tightly behind them and vowed to never visit the labyrinth of craziness again.

  Once downstairs, they turned the TV back on, and Passions filled the screen. They watched it and waited for Maria, not talking, trying to make everything seem like it was back to normal, even though it was far from it.

  Two episodes later, they heard a car pull into the driveway. Tabby got up and looked out the window. Sherlock was already barking, which meant that he knew who it was.

  “Come here!” Tabby hissed.

  Claire did.

  Tabby had cracked the curtains enough for them to be able to peek out and spy on Maria and Joe. Maria wore a big smile on her face. Joe was laughing, his head thrown back, one hand on the steering wheel, the other around Maria’s headrest.

  “Oh, my God!” they both squee-ed.

  “Wait, wait,” Claire said, “Shh, they’re getting out.”

  Sure enough, Joe got out and went around to the passenger’s side. He opened Maria’s door and helped her out by holding her hand.

  “Aw,” Tabby whispered. “Look at them.”

  “Quick, get down!” Claire whispered back. They were coming up the walkway, their shadows thrown against the window by the light post in the front yard.

  “I’m not missing this for anything.” Tabby leaned out farther. She was obviously visible to Joe and Maria, but they were too busy goggling each other’s eyes to notice.

  Muffled, Claire heard Maria say, “I had a really good time tonight.”

  “So did I,” Joe answered.

  “We should do it again.”

  “Really? So I didn’t screw it up?” Joe said, loud enough to be heard clearly.

  “Oh, no, my dahling,” Maria answered, a goofy smile on her face.

  Claire and Tabby exchanged a confused look, and Tabby stuck a finger in her mouth, faking a gag. Claire had to slap her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing loud enough for Joe and Maria to hear her.

  “Milady, how does tomorrow night sound?”

  ‘Milady’? Tabby mouthed to Claire.

  All Claire could do was shrug in return.

  The two on the front porch laughed hard together. Maria put her hand on Joe’s shoulder, and with his opposite hand, he took hers. They stared longingly into each other’s eyes for a moment.

  Claire and Tabby watched in anticipation. It was like witnessing a real live version of the soap opera playing on the TV behind them.

  “Tomorrow sounds
great,” Maria answered. Then she stammered as she turned her head and looked out at the front lawn. “Well, maybe.”

  “Whenever you can.”

  “What if you’re not free? I know you work a lot at the mall.”

  “Unfortunately, yeah, but I can have Mikey cover for me. Besides, he owes me one.” Joe winked.

  “Bet it’s hard to make dates when you have to work around fighting giant spiders and saving ghosts and whatnot,” Claire whispered.

  “Shush,” Tabby demanded.

  “Geez, just speaking the truth.”

  As Tabby and Claire bickered back and forth, Sherlock pushed his way between them. Using the ledge for support, he put his front paws on the painted wood and looked out through the curtain. He was much less covert. Maria spied him from the front porch, and shook her head softly so Joe wouldn’t notice. But Sherlock wasn’t going anywhere. Maria is my master, and if that guy puts his hands on my master—

  Suddenly, as if reading Sherlock’s mind, Joe did just that. He leaned in awkwardly, wrapping an arm around the small of Maria’s back. Though he stood about a head taller than Maria—who was quite tall for a female—when Joe bent down for their first kiss, Maria stood on her tiptoes.

  Sherlock growled softly, not believing his eyes.

  “What are you growling at, boy?” Claire asked.

  “Oh, my God!” Tabby said, noticing what was happening, too.

  Joe and Maria were lip-locked, their eyes closed, their bodies close. That kiss beats any soap opera kiss, Claire thought. But I see why Sherlock's jealous.

  The kiss lasted for about five seconds—probably not long enough for Joe or Maria to slip in any tongue. That would have to be saved for a later date, Claire supposed, but when the two parted, Tabby and Claire squee-ed so loud that both Maria and Joe turned to the window. Tabby and Claire’s heads were no longer covered by the curtains; they were out in the open, all three of them.

  Joe chuckled and scratched the back of his neck, a sure sign of his nervousness. First kisses, unless in the movies, hardly ever have an audience, but the one shared between Joe and Maria was as magical as the best of them.

  “I better get going,” he said.

  Maria took his hand, smiling. “Joe,” she said, before he could turn away and head back to his Honda.