by Sharon Pape
Feeling a little cocky, I snagged an ornate canister filled with Tilly’s special blend of tea leaves. But instead of becoming airborne, it bumped along the table, scattering everything in its path. So much for patting myself on the back. I needed to stay focused. I cleared my mind and tried again. This time the tea tin lifted cleanly off the table and flew straight to me. Lesson learned. If I wanted telekinesis to work reliably, I had to give it my full attention regardless of the size of the object I was trying to move.
For my next test, I tried picking up the items I’d knocked onto the floor and putting them back on the table. Instead of moving them to me, I’d be moving them from one place to another, a slightly different skill. But before I could start, the phone rang.
“You need to get over here ASAP.” It was Tilly in full crisis mode.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, assorted disasters flashing through my mind. “Are you and Merlin okay?”
“We’re not in danger—yet, but you have to get over here.”
I told her I’d be there in five minutes. I made sure Sashki had water, set the alarm, and would have beat my estimate, but there were so many cars and people congregated at the intersection with her street that I couldn’t make any headway. I pulled to the curb, ignoring the No Parking signs posted every few feet, and jumped out to hoof it through the crowd.
I was getting close to her corner again when some of the people ahead of me started shrieking and running in my direction. I didn’t know what had caused their panic until I spotted a little red fox trotting after them. It looked more lost and confused than any animal I’d ever seen. Stranger still were the two cottontail bunnies hopping along in the fox’s wake. All was not right in the animal kingdom when rabbits chose to follow foxes and foxes had no interest in their favorite meal.
I picked up my pace. Turning onto Tilly’s block, I finally understood what had prompted her distress and had attracted the throngs of people. Under different circumstances, I might have had myself a good, long laugh, but although it was funny, it was even more sobering. I had no idea how I was going to explain it to the police.
Everywhere I looked there were furred and feathered woodland creatures. I felt as though I’d made a wrong turn onto the set of a Disney movie. Troops of squirrels, mice, rabbits, fox, deer, porcupine, and skunks roamed across the lawns and driveways of the homes. Raccoons, possums, and other nocturnal critters stood squinting in the sunlight, looking as bewildered as the fox that had crossed my path. I watched chickadees, robins, blackbirds, cardinals, hawks and dozens of other birds I couldn’t identify wheeling around the sky before settling in trees, on rooftops, and cars. Owls populated the fir trees. And dogs from miles around provided a deafening soundtrack to the craziness. It came as no surprise to find that Tilly’s house was ground zero.
Her neighbors were all out watching the spectacle, the bravest wandering among the animals, taking pictures, and petting furry heads. The less daring stayed on their porches or behind screen doors. Tilly and Merlin were conspicuous by their very absence. Although there was no police presence yet, I spied a van from the county’s animal-control unit parked haphazardly in the middle of the street. Whoever had alerted the unit must have failed to mention the scope of the animal invasion or a need for the police, an oversight for which I was grateful.
The driver was standing next to his vehicle, talking on a cell phone and gesticulating wildly with his free arm as if the person on the other end could see him. Even if he’d had enough equipment and men to round up the multitude of different creatures, he would have needed another hundred vans to cart them away. The most troubling part of the whole scene was that in the couple minutes I was standing there, the number of animals had grown. I had to get to my aunt’s house and try to rectify the situation, though I had no idea how to go about it. I ran through the crowds, dodging people and animals, especially the skunks.
Tilly must have been looking out the window because the front door swung open before I could ring the bell. She yanked me inside, shut the door, and double locked it.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she said, her voice an octave higher than normal. Her forehead was shiny with perspiration, and her short red curls limp around her face. “You have to do something to stop it or...or...I don’t know what will happen.”
“Where’s Merlin?” I asked. She pointed in the direction of the living room. “Okay, Aunt Tilly. I want you to go make us a nice pot of tea.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ll do,” Tilly said, grabbing onto the idea as though it were a lifeline. She headed full throttle toward the kitchen. “A pot of tea is always helpful. I should bake something to go with it.”
I found Merlin pacing in the living room. Isenbale, my aunt’s big Maine Coon, was walking in and out of his legs so that the two of them look like a well-rehearsed dance team. For his part, Merlin seemed completely unaware the cat was there. He was muttering to himself, most of the words garbled or in another language. I walked right up to him so that he had no choice but to stop or crash into me. At the last possible moment, he came to such a sudden stop that Isenbale was caught between his legs. The cat yowled in protest, wriggled free of his prison, and fled.
“I was not aware you were expected,” Merlin said, sounding equally irritated.
“I’m here to help,” I said. “What happened? What went wrong?”
“I was lonely for the creatures that populate the woods near my home, so I cast a simple spell to summon a few of them. The spell appears to have become stuck in an open-ended position, and I can’t remember how to reverse the bloody thing.”
“What were you thinking? You know we’ve been having trouble with our magick here. How about your wand? Would that help?” I asked. I hadn’t seen him with it since the day he found the wood for it.
“I gave up on it,” he said. “It appears I am every bit as talented without it. Perhaps it is a necessity for lesser practitioners of the magickal arts.”
“Okay,” I said, unable to debate the fact since I’d never found a wand to be helpful either. “But you must have a failsafe spell for emergencies.”
“I’ve never needed such a thing,” he snapped. “What is wrong with this cursed era of yours?”
“If you had listened to me and not cast any spells, we wouldn’t be having this problem, would we? And in case you’ve forgotten, pizza and computers are also products of this era.”
I took a deep breath. Arguing and assigning blame were not going to fix the problem. I vaguely recalled Bronwen teaching me an incantation to stop and reverse spells. I couldn’t have been more than five at the time. She had insisted I learn it by heart before she would teach me how to cast my first spell. But what was it? My mind was racing helter-skelter, skimming the surface of my memory. I was on the verge of giving up when I heard a familiar voice say,
“A spell was cast
Now make it past.
Remove it here
And everywhere.”
I was in such a state that for a moment I thought the words had finally popped into my head, but then Bronwen’s white energy cloud materialized.
“Say it with me, Kailyn. Say it ten times.”
As we began, I noticed that Merlin was staring at the cloud, clearly mesmerized by it. I realized he’d never been with me when my mother or grandmother dropped by for a visit. Before I could stop him, he reached out his hand to touch the cloud. He was rewarded with a shock that threw him back against the wall with a resounding and sickening thud. How many times had Tilly and I warned him about the dangers of electricity? He clearly hadn’t taken us seriously enough. By the time I got to him, he was sitting up, cradling his injured hand, and spitting a string of expletives that sounded enough like modern English for me to get the gist of them. I hunkered down beside him to look at his hand, but he pulled away from me.
“Merlin, I have to see how bad it is.” I prayed he di
dn’t require medical attention. Without ID or health insurance, he would be treated and then incarcerated. We’d be mired in enough red tape to tie a ribbon around the globe.
“I am capable of tending to it myself, I assure you. I will prepare a decoction for burns and add a bit of magick. I’ll be good as new in no time.”
More magick? It was the last thing we needed, but I bit my tongue. It couldn’t be worse than taking him to the emergency room. “Didn’t we tell you that electricity can kill you?” I don’t know why I was beating this particular dead horse, but my brain seemed determined to vent.
“Yes,” he replied, “you made a point of it. I believe you said, ‘It can kill just like a lightning bolt.’”
“Then why did you—”
“Curiosity,” he said. “I had never encountered a cloud within a building. Now if you wish to be useful, I am in need of some help to rise.”
After I got him on his feet, he went off to the kitchen in search of Tilly and the ingredients he needed to treat his hand. “If there’s anything you need from my shop, let me know,” I called after him. Bronwen had been silent while I dealt with Merlin, but once he left the room, she spoke to me.
“Clear your mind, my child, and let’s start over.”
We finished the ten repetitions without further interruption. When I ran to the window to look outside, I breathed a shaky sigh of relief. The animals were leaving. I didn’t know where they were going, but then I didn’t know where they’d come from either. I prayed no harm would come to them. I was still standing there when I heard the sirens. The cavalry was coming. Although Merlin was to blame, he was a man without a country or identity, technically a man who didn’t exist in the twenty-first century. I couldn’t let Tilly handle it. She might panic and say something that would doom all three of us. The responsibility fell to me alone, and I was no closer to an explanation the police or onlookers were likely to believe. If I wasn’t careful, I could be responsible for ushering in a new age of witch trials. Quite a day—and it wasn’t yet noon.
Chapter 7
I stood at the screen door, watching the animals disperse. Their numbers had dwindled by a third as the police rolled into town. Two patrol cars led the way, followed by Detective Duggan’s unmarked car. I recognized Curtis in one of the patrol cars, but I didn’t know the officer in the second car. Maybe it was close to the shift change, so both men had heeded the alert. Or maybe Duggan had requested more muscle. They stopped near the animal-control van. The driver, who’d been waiting in the van, emerged and met the police in the middle of the street to provide what I assumed was an update.
Tilly shuffled over to me in her slippers, her preferred footwear at home. Soft and unstructured, they were kindest to her feet. Her time in the kitchen seemed to have restored her to an even keel, but I could tell by the way her gaze was flitting around that panic was hanging out just beneath the surface.
“Kailyn, what are you doing?” she asked. “Don’t stand there like we’re expecting the cops.”
“But we are expecting them. Let’s face it, Aunt Tilly. We’re the only sorcerers around here, and as far as we know, this bizarre migration of animals has occurred only on your block. In fact, most of the creatures were encamped on your lawn.”
“I still think we should play it cool, like we’ve been busy inside and didn’t notice what was happening out there.” As she was speaking a large raccoon ambled up to us from the direction of the stairs. Tilly flattened herself against the wall in the narrow foyer.
“Right,” I said, “we have no idea what’s going on. And this fellow just happens to be our pet.”
“Merlin!” Tilly shrilled, causing the hissing and growling animal to turn its masked eyes to her. She clamped her mouth shut.
The wizard came out of the bathroom, wrapping a poultice around his injured hand. He stopped short when he saw the raccoon. “Egad. Who thought it wise to let that creature in?”
“Exactly what we want to know,” I whispered.
“Ah,” Merlin said, lowering his voice too. “Mayhap it climbed in when I opened the bedroom window earlier to freshen the air.”
My aunt’s eyes bulged with disbelief. “Mayhap?” she said, nearly losing control of her voice. “Close it this instant.”
“I’ll be of more use getting rid of this chap,” he countered.
This was no time for an argument. “Aunt Tilly, go close the window,” I said, hoping nothing else had climbed in.
She bobbed her head, apparently relieved that I’d taken charge. She slid along the wall until she was a safe distance from her uninvited guest; then she hobbled toward the stairs. I backed out of the foyer to watch Merlin deal with the raccoon from a safer distance. He fixed his eyes on the creature, who seemed unable to turn away. They remained locked together like that for a minute or so, communing or communicating in some way I didn’t understand. When Merlin looked away, I could tell the connection was broken. The raccoon seemed to lose its balance from the abrupt release. It swayed on wobbly legs before finding its equilibrium again and shaking its head as if it had been roused from sleep.
Merlin opened the screen door. The animal lifted its snout to the air wafting in and, after a moment’s hesitation, headed outside to join a group of its brethren in their retreat. Merlin appeared altogether pleased with himself as he passed me on his way to the kitchen. He’d clearly forgotten about the greater havoc he’d created outside. Or the fact that I would have to answer to the police for it.
Duggan appeared on the other side of the screen door, as if I’d conjured him up with my thoughts. “Hello again, Ms. Wilde,” he said too amiably for my comfort. “I’d like to speak to you and your aunt. May I come in?” He reminded me of a junkyard dog whose wagging, come-hither tail was all a ruse to lure you closer so it could sink its teeth into you.
“I suppose so,” I replied. “Come on in, and I’ll get her.”
I could have flat out refused. No judge was going to grant a search warrant based on the suspicion that we were behind the sudden influx of animals, but I didn’t need any additional demerits in Duggan’s mind. I considered asking him to have a seat in the living room, but the more comfortable he was, the longer he might stay. I left him in the foyer and went after Tilly. She was in the kitchen removing a blueberry pie from the oven. Merlin was watching from the table, a plate in front of him and a fork in his hand. Since he’d been living the modern American lifestyle, he’d gained enough weight to make his burlap pants split their seams multiple times. Tilly always stitched them up again because he refused to wear twenty-first-century clothing at home.
She set the pie on a cooling rack, wiped her hands on a dishtowel, and turned to me. “I know. I’ve been summoned. That man has a voice that rattles the timbers. It’s a good thing I baked. At least we’ll have some comfort food to restore us after our grilling.”
“I think it’s best if we keep Merlin out of this,” I murmured.
She nodded, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Don’t touch the pie; it has to cool. Just stay here and be quiet and you’ll get the first piece. Will you do that for us?”
“I shall be as quiet as a mouse,” he whispered. “You won’t know I’m here.”
If only, I said to myself. I hooked my arm in my aunt’s and told her to follow my lead with Duggan.
He was standing where I’d left him. “All right, Detective, now that we’re here, what can we do for you?” I can do sociable as well as anyone.
“As you’re both aware, I have a murder case to investigate. The folks in this town are scared; they want the killer behind bars. I don’t have the time or patience for nonsense like this...this animal thing.” His upper lip started to curl, but he quickly shut it down. I wondered if there had been complaints about his attitude and if Police Chief Gimble had taken him to task about it.
“I understand,” I said. Tilly echoed me.
&
nbsp; “Good. Let’s try to make this quick then. Do either of you know how all those animals came to be congregated on your street?” Although his tone was polite, it had a peculiar undercurrent, as if he’d actually said, “I dare you to explain away this one.”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” I replied. I’d decided our best defense would be to answer his questions with some of our own. I was waiting for the right moment.
He looked from me to Tilly and back again. “You mean to tell me that neither of you did anything that might have lured those animals here?”
I gave him a beats-me shrug. “I’m sorry it’s not what you want to hear, but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Then how do you explain it?”
He was studying us like he was trying to detect the lie in our eyes. Time to turn the tables. “Seriously, Detective,” I said with a smile, “are you saying my aunt and I have magickal powers? That we’re some kind of animal whisperers?”
Duggan opened his mouth to answer me, but his brain didn’t seem to have come up with a response, so he let it fall closed again.
“Maybe what happened here should be chalked up to a mystery of nature,” I continued. “For all we know, it will happen again this time next year. We may be witnesses to a new pattern of animal migration.” I stopped myself short before I became too fanciful and overplayed my hand.
Duggan’s eyes narrowed. I imagined the debate raging in his head. How hard could he come down on me without being chewed out again by his boss?
“I’m going to let it go this time,” he grumbled, turning his failure into a magnanimous gesture, “but remember, I’ve got my eyes on you—on both of you.”
“Good to know,” I said, holding the screen door open for him. He hadn’t asked about Merlin, and I certainly wasn’t going to remind him. But it might not have been an oversight on his part. When he first met the wizard, he made a snap judgment about him. I’d seen it written plain as day on his face. He believed Merlin was the addled and eccentric black sheep in my family. And I had no plans to disabuse him of that notion anytime soon.