Midwest Magic Chronicles Boxed Set

by Flint Maxwell

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for being such a gentleman.”

  He bowed. “Thank you, fair lady, for being such a dahling.”

  “Blech,” Tabby said.

  Claire punched her lightly in the arm.

  Maria snorted and shook her head. “Get out of here before I change my mind about a second date.”

  All the color drained from Joe’s face.

  “Kidding!” Maria assured him.

  “Oh,” he laughed, “I knew that!” Then, practically skipping down the walkway, Joe went back to his car, got in, backed out, and disappeared down the road as Maria watched from the front porch.

  As soon as the coast was clear, Claire and Tabby rushed to the door, Sherlock right on their heels. Their little run-in with a demon spider leg or whatever it had been was the furthest thing from their minds.

  Claire threw open the door.

  Maria still stared in a daze at the empty road.

  Silence hung between them all.

  Finally, Maria turned around, the color standing high on her cheeks.

  “Oh. My. God!” Claire said.

  “I know,” Maria answered, her voice hardly there.

  “That was beautiful. Romeo and Juliet shit,” Tabby said.

  “Well, gee, when you put it that way…” Claire said.

  “Shut up.” It was Tabby’s turn to punch Claire back.

  “Ouch!”

  “Oh, don’t be a wuss!”

  Maria had to step inside and break it up. “Guys! GUYS!”

  “Sorry,” Claire said. “It’s been kind of an odd night…”

  “What? Why? Can’t I just go a few hours without anything odd happening?” Maria asked no one in particular. She crossed the living room floor and plopped down on the old flowered love seat. The fragrant smells of what she now knew to be Oriceran wheezed out from between the cushions.

  “We’ll tell you later,” Claire said.

  “Yeah,” Tabby butted in, “nothing to worry about. We handled it.”

  Sherlock barked.

  “With the help of Sherlock, that is,” Tabby added.

  Ghosts, Sherlock said, but Maria hardly paid him any attention. Her mind was on the kiss she had shared with Joe, how soft his lips were, and how, after all the garlic they ate, his breath still smelled like spearmint.

  “It was just magical,” Maria said, looking off into space, reminiscing. Claire and Tabby raised their eyebrows. Maria had never been like this before. She usually was the first one to dismiss all that fairytale, romantic-fantasy bull crap as fiction, but seeing her now, you would’ve thought she was a female Cupid reincarnated. “And I don’t use that word lightly, since I’m technically magic and all.”

  “Ooh,” Tabby said, “you can totally use that to your advantage! Magic him out of his shirt. I bet he’s ripped.”

  Claire shook her head.

  “No, that’s cheating—wait, you didn’t magic him into that kiss, did you?”

  Maria looked offended. “What? No! It was just a really good night. I learned so much about him. He’s the youngest of six brothers! His dad owns a construction company. Gelepo!”

  “Oh, man, I see their signs all over the city,” Claire said.

  “I know, I know! I never put two and two together. His mom teaches Shakespeare and his World at Akron University.”

  “Mrs. Gelepo? Oh, my God, I’ve had her!” Tabby said.

  “It truly is a small world.”

  Sherlock weaseled his way into the conversation. Not to be rude or anything, but I haven’t had a proper meal since I’ve gotten back from Oriceran…

  Claire saw Maria staring at Sherlock, taking in his telepathic words, so she asked, “Is he talking about food?”

  Maria nodded.

  “He ate, don’t listen to him. I gave him roast beef and horse radish.”

  Dammit, Sherlock said. Tell Claire Dog Prom is off again. Fucking traitor.

  “I’m not telling her that, Sherlock. Dog Prom is not a thing, no matter how much you bring it up.”

  It is! I swear. I have the invitation somewhere. Hold on. Don’t talk anymore until I come back. With that, Sherlock bolted out of the living room and into the room where his old dog crate was. It also held his bed, which he refused to sleep on, instead opting for Maria’s pillow where he could stick his tail end in her face and snore as loud as an Orc. There were toys in his crate, too. Stuffed elephants with the stuffing mostly ripped out and the eyes missing, squeaking rubber bones that had been squeezed so much that they only wheezed, and the ever-famous tennis ball, so drenched in dog spit it was a forest-green color instead of the neon green it was when fresh out of the packaging. Sometimes Sherlock liked to pretend he got mail delivered in that room, which he so haughtily called his ‘office.’ Doing that was his way of coping with the mailman, whom he could bark at constantly from inside the house. But once, Sherlock had been outside when the mailman came around, and had cowered in the front bushes, much like he had cowered away upon meeting his first Gnome.

  So no, there was probably no Dog Prom invitation in there—probably.

  The girls continued talking about Maria’s date, and it was obvious to both Claire and Tabby that Maria was head-over-heels in love with the cute security guard from Rolling Hill Mall. Though when Tabby suggested the idea of love, Maria blew a raspberry and said, “Not likely. I’ve got responsibilities now. I can’t just go around and fall in love with people.” She had avoided looking them in the eyes when she said it.

  Claire and Tabby told her of their night, really downplaying the spider-leg, because they didn’t want to be the reason Maria’s pleasant night came crashing down. But Maria kept prodding them for more information, and they eventually settled—despite Tabby’s almost tearful pleas—to bring the Ouija board downstairs so Maria could see it for herself.

  Sherlock shouted more than once, as the sounds of ripping paper and moving clutter rang out in his ‘office,’ I can hear you guys talking! Stop it, unless you all want to be on my shit-list, right under squirrels, the mailman, and Gnomes!

  They kept talking.

  Maria stood up, and Tabby was still pleading with her not to go get the Ouija board, to which Maria replied by saying, “I’ve got my sword now. No big deal.”

  “You also have the music box here. Maybe the spider leg sensed it wasn’t here before and gave up,” Claire said. “And as big as it was, I’d hate to see what it’s attached to.”

  Maria just patted her sword hilt. The belt was now cinched around her waist. She still wore the pretty blue dress, and on her way to the stairs, she caught her reflection in the hall mirror. “I better change into something more comfortable, if I’m gonna be fighting giant spiders again. You know, just in case.”

  So she went to her room and changed into a pair of comfortable jeans, a tank top, and, because it made her look like a badass witch, especially with the sword around her waist, a leather jacket she had bought when she became obsessed with the movie Grease a couple years ago. She also removed the bobby pins from her hair and let it fall down. It was still done up, but looked much closer to her regular style than normal.

  She smiled in her vanity mirror and said, “I kissed Joe Gelepo; I can do anything.”

  Pleased with how she looked, she left her room and turned down the hall toward her grandpa’s. Just as she reached out for the doorknob, a great burst of energy crackled downstairs. Her heart trip-hammered in her chest. She feared the worst; especially with the image of a giant spider leg coming out of a black void in the middle of the Ouija board so fresh in her mind.

  “Claire? Tabby?” she shouted down the steps. In her hand was the sword. She wasn’t even aware that she’d drawn it until she looked down. Now she took the steps two at a time—probably not the safest practice. They say don’t run with scissors, not the type of big swords you see in high fantasy movies, her mind mused.

  When she turned the corner into the living room, where the TV was blaring, she saw a s
trange woman dressed in black. She was older, perhaps in her fifties, but her deep blue eyes shone with youthful enthusiasm.

  Maria raised the sword up so it was diagonal in front of her, going by what she had seen in movies like The Lord of the Rings and Willow.

  The woman’s mouth opened to say something, but Maria didn’t want her to even get one syllable out, because this woman was a witch, Maria could almost smell the dark magic lingering about her. She made a move.

  “Maria!” Gramps shouted.

  The witch backed up, lost her balance, and fell into Gramps’s arms. Claire and Tabby watched from the corner of the room, near the television, with shocked expressions on their faces.

  “Sheath your sword. Freida is an ally!”

  Maria obeyed.

  There was an uncomfortable silence in the air for a moment, until Maria said, “Whoops! Almost stabbed you there. I’m so sorry!”

  The dark witch named Frieda shook her head. “No, it’s no big deal. Do not worry, child. I should’ve announced myself before things got so out of…control.”

  Sherlock waddled into the living room, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air near Frieda. In his mouth was a slobbery piece of paper.

  Who’s this?

  Maria was surprised to hear that his voice sounded muffled.

  “Frieda, meet Maria and our dog Sherlock,” Gramps said. He was smiling, now that any sense of danger seemed to be vanquished.

  Frieda stuck out her hand and shook Maria’s. “It is an honor, Maria.” Then she bent down and stroked Sherlock under his chin. She hit one of his many ticklish spots, and his leg kicked wildly. “And it is a pleasure to meet you, too, Sherlock.” When she stopped, Sherlock sat there in a daze, his tail going a mile a minute.

  Wow! Ask her to Dog Prom for me, Maria! Please!

  “For the last time, there is no Dog Prom!” Maria shouted, a smile on her face.

  Then what’s this?

  Sherlock dropped the wet piece of paper on the carpet in front of Maria. She picked it up by the lone dry corner, read it, and then burst into uncontrollable laughter.

  What? What the hell is so funny?

  “This…this is a subscription card for Cat Fancy magazine,” Maria said through her chuckles.

  What? Sherlock lunged forward and snatched the soggy paper from her. That—That’s not mine. Someone must’ve left it here.

  “Sherlock, it’s filled out with your name and ‘My office at the Apples’ house.’”

  No, someone is playing a trick on me, I swear. I don’t like cats. Yuck!

  Now everyone else was laughing, mainly because they saw how flustered Sherlock was in trying to cover his reasoning of requesting a subscription to a cat magazine, even if the rest of them couldn’t understand what he was saying.

  Damn it, he muttered. I’ll be back. Gotta go burn this card.

  But as Sherlock went up the hallway toward his so-called office, Maria leaned around the living room doorway and saw him slip the note through the mail slot before disappearing. All she could do was shake her head.

  “That was Sherlock in a nutshell,” Gramps said to Freida.

  “He’s seems nice for such an…odd creature.”

  “He’s okay,” Maria said with a wink. “Now, what’s going on? Why are you back with a witch and not a Gnome?”

  Gramps walked toward Maria and took her hands. “Our situation has become dire.”

  “More dire than before?” Maria sat on the couch, her head spinning. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “I wish it weren’t true,” Gramps answered. “Our friend Gelbus Cogspark may be in danger. Seeing how he is our one chance—aside from hiring a Willen to break into the Gnomes’ vault, that is, and that’s quite risky…never trust a Willen—we must get him out of said danger before it’s too late.”

  “How does Frieda play into all of this?”

  “She’ll be our guide,” Gramps answered.

  Frieda bowed, her dark skirt flourishing. “At your service.”

  “Frieda and I have worked out a deal. We can trust her,” Gramps said.

  Behind him, Claire and Tabby made kissing noises. Gramps whirled around on them, and they shrank against the television, which was now showing a yogurt commercial with Jamie Lee Curtis talking about gut bacteria and her good digestion.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Claire said.

  “Yeah, please don’t turn us into frogs,” Tabby echoed.

  Maria couldn’t help but smile. “Where are we going?” she asked once everyone settled down.

  Gramps sighed. “I wish it was just me going, but I will need you, Maria. This will be no easy task.”

  “Never expected it to be. So far, it’s been anything but easy. Giant spiders and blown up clown heads.”

  The dark witch gave Maria an inquisitive look.

  “Long story,” Maria answered, waving a hand.

  “We are traveling to the town of Ashbourne. It’s a small fishing village not far from the Light Castle,” Gramps said.

  “When you say ‘not far,’ do you mean like walking distance…or portaling distance?” Maria asked.

  “Nearly everywhere in Oriceran is portaling distance.”

  “Yeah, why walk when you can just portal?” Tabby said.

  “Ooh, you should sell that technology to Google!” Claire squee-ed. “Make a killing.”

  With a deep sigh, Gramps rubbed at his temples. “Magic is not for exploitation, nor is it something that can be learned by those who do not already possess some of the ability in their DNA. Google would not be interested in doing business with the magical community again.”

  “Why not?” Maria asked, honestly curious.

  “Long story.” Gramps waved a hand. “But since Google Plus never fully took off like they expected, they’ve been wary of dealing with magical folk.”

  “You mean we had a hand in creating Google Plus?” Maria asked.

  “Oh, we’ve had a hand in everything from The Rolling Stones’ success to the moon landing.”

  “What the hell?” Claire said, amazed.

  “That reminds me,” Gramps said, bringing a hand up to his beard, “I should give Mick a call. It’s been too long.”

  “Mick as in Mick Jagger?” Tabby said. “Oh, my God, my mom loves him! Could you get me an autograph? If I gave her that for her birthday, I’d definitely become her favorite child.”

  “I’m sure I can—” Gramps began, but Frieda cleared her throat and cut him off. “Right, we’ll see after our mission is complete.”

  “Yeah, Ashbourne, right,” Maria said. “What exactly are we doing there?”

  Gramps grinned, a slight amusement in his eyes. “We, Maria, are doing something not many people have done before.”

  “The suspense is killing me,” Maria replied, twirling her index finger. “Go on.”

  “We are going to slay a dragon.”

  “What? No way, you’re messing with me.” Maria looked from Gramps to Frieda. There was no hint of a lie on either of their faces.

  “No, no, I swear it.”

  Now, Maria saw the expression on Claire and Tabby’s face. They were stark white, their eyes as big as plates.

  “The Rogue Dragons were beasts raised by ancient evil. Long, long ago, they ruled over certain areas of the world. Those who opposed them were burnt to a crisp or eaten, and those who did not oppose them became followers of the Dragon’s rule. They are called Dragon Tongue,” Gramps said.

  “Weird name.”

  “Our friend Gelbus Cogspark was directed to the town by a Dragon Tongue. My guess is that they had heard of the Gnome’s firing from the library and hunted him down until they found him at Ves Ielan. And if Mr. Cogspark is in Ashbourne, there are only three possible outcomes for the poor Gnome,” Frieda said. She listed them off on her fingers. “One, he is being tortured until he spills the secrets of the raising of a Rogue Dragon. Two, he has already spilled the secrets and has been murdered by the followers. And last, the dragon ha
s risen and swallowed the town whole.”

  “So our prospects are looking pretty grim,” Maria said. “Sounds right up my alley.”

  “Of course,” Gramps said, being the ray of hope in all the darkness, “there is another option… Gelbus held his tongue, and the dragon has yet to rise.”

  Suddenly, Sherlock darted into the room, another slobbery piece of paper in his mouth. Maria took it mostly out of reflex, too lost in the idea of becoming a dragon slayer. If only her mother could see her now. She wondered if she would be proud. I’m doing the right thing. Of course she would be proud, Maria thought.

  There it is. One Dog Prom invitation, Sherlock said.

  Maria read the paper over and didn’t even bother to laugh this time. “Sherlock, this is a bill for the vet…for when you had to have your nip—”

  Barking cut her off. Sherlock jumped up and snatched the paper back, chewing on it until it was nothing but a wet wad. Then he swallowed.

  I don’t know what she’s talking about. I never had to go to the vet because anything went wrong with my nipples. What’s the point for males to even have nipples, you know?

  Slowly, he was backing out of the room, his eyes searching everyone else’s.

  “They can’t hear you, you do know that, don’t you?”

  I promise. My nipples are all good. All in perfect working order.

  “We both know that’s a lie. Don’t you remember when—” Maria said.

  Can it, Maria! That’s it. Dog Prom is officially off! With that, Sherlock stormed out of the living room and back down the hall, softly growling to himself.

  “It was never on in the first place because it’s a made-up thing,” Maria whispered to herself. She looked back at Freida and Gramps. “Right, okay, dragon, Gnome, crazy dragon worshippers.”

  “Starting to sound like just another regular day in the life of Maria Apple,” Claire said, a smile on her face.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a really weird thing,” Tabby said. She rubbed the bandage around her neck.

  Maria shrugged. “Well, let’s go slay a fucking dragon.”

  “Language, Maria!” Gramps snapped.

  “Oh, please, we are about to do the impossible; I think I earned the right to cuss a little.”