by Iris Kincaid
“Some cars are dangerous,” Finn agreed. “I’ll be very interested to find out what went wrong here. If you ladies will excuse me, I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Max and I want to see some honeymoon photos,” Lorna said, giving him a hug.
“Yeah, you want him to get some ideas.”
“Oh, your wedding is already giving people plenty of ideas. Gillian and Wanda are both engaged.”
“Oh, sweet. It’s like a virus. Yeah, we’ll make you sit through some photos. Gemma. Very nice to meet you. But don’t think you’ve seen the last of me. I’ve got this very heavy file cabinet I’m going to be needing a hand with.”
What a goof. Gemma liked him immediately. Finn and Lorna were making her feel that having all this witch power wasn’t such a freaky thing.
The evening news revealed the disturbing details of the car explosion. It was no accident and it was no malfunction. It was a bomb. It was attached to the car’s breaks, rigged to explode when the car went over fifty miles an hour. Lorna may have watched Robocop one too many times, but someone else was apparently equally fixated on Speed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gemma was searching through online job postings when the doorbell rang. It was Finn.
“Hi. This is a surprise. How did you know where I lived?”
“I’m a cop. And a former FBI agent. And you are not harder to find than America’s Most Wanted. Mind if we have a little chat?”
Chatting was one of Gemma’s favorite new pleasures. She welcomed Finn into the small apartment.
“Do me a favor. Give me another little demo on those muscles of yours,” Finn asked.
Gemma walked over the heavy armoire and easily lifted it four feet into the air. She then switched from two hands to one, to Finn’s delight.
“Okay, why don’t we have a seat and I’ll let you know what’s on my mind? So, if I understand correctly, you’re currently unemployed, and you want to do something to make a difference. Try this on for size—I want you to help me investigate this car bombing.”
“Really?” That sounded kind of exciting. “How much does it pay?”
“Not a dime.”
“What!”
“To reiterate, you’re unemployed, and I have discovered from personal experience that having a Lilith Hazelwood beneficiary and her expertise is about the best thing I could possibly have riding shotgun.”
It certainly wasn’t a very promising road to a job. Still . . . perhaps it was all those years of watching adventure and danger and excitement on the screen. This was Gemma’s big chance to do something that mattered, to have her own adventure. To finally get off the sidelines.
“When do we start?”
*****
In three days’ time, Finn and Gemma were going to crash the memorial service of car bomb victim Zander Knox. In the meantime, Finn was going to dig up as much information on Zander as he could. And Gemma continued to get settled in—job hunting, clothes shopping, setting up her bedroom, and taking her borrowed old car to the repair shop to have the door reattached. She also thought it a good idea to continue with her gym visits, as it did seem to be the only plausible way to explain her strength.
After one early afternoon visit to the gym, she darted into a boutique across the street. It really was time to give Dr. Svenson’s credit card back. But just a few more things, and then she’d be able to return all the items she had borrowed from Bethany.
Coming out of the boutique, she glanced across the street and saw the dreamy British guy coming out of the daycare center next door holding onto the hand of an adorable four-year-old boy. Right in front of the daycare center, a small puppy had been tied to a meter post and it strained excitedly at the sight of the small child. The boy immediately ran to the dog to give a big hug.
The British guy, who was obviously the father, seemed to remember that he had to go back into the daycare center for something. In unmistakable body language, he appeared to be telling the boy to stay right here, don’t go anywhere, you can play with the puppy, and I’ll be back in just a few minutes. The boy nodded happy obedience and continued to play with the dog. The father swiftly went back inside the daycare center.
The puppy was so energetic that it soon loosened the leash and broke free of the meter pole. Feeling its freedom, it was so exhilarated that it dashed right out into the street, and the little boy leapt up, horrified. As soon as Gemma saw the panic on the little boy’s face, she knew that he was about to go after it.
“Stop! Don’t!”
The boy was about to step right in front of a car, and he was so small that there was no way the car was going to see him. Gemma made a mad dash for the boy, terrified that there wouldn’t be enough time. There really couldn’t possibly be enough time. And yet . . . in an instant, she had crossed the street, crouched down, snatched the boy, and threw her arm out toward the car, in what felt like an instinctive but useless gesture, to shield herself from the impending blow.
Her arm and the car met with a loud jarring sound, and the car came to an abrupt stop. For a split second, Gemma wondered if the driver had been able to slam on his brakes and stopped just in time. But then she saw the front bumper. Massive dent. As if the car had just run into something much bigger than itself, like a gigantic tree. But that something else was her!
She scrambled over to the sidewalk, still clutching the little boy.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
The child nodded, in mute amazement. The naughty little puppy had come back to see what all the action was about, and Gemma quickly secured him back to the meter post. The driver of the car that she had stopped with her bare arm ran up to them.
“Are you all right? Are you hurt?” he asked frantically.
“Yes, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” Gemma said.
“But . . . but I hit you. I felt the car hit you.”
“No, you didn’t. Although I appreciate your concern. See?” She held out her arm, free of any injury—not so much as a scratch. “No damage whatsoever.”
“That’s such a relief . . .” He glanced back at his dented bumper. “Although, I wouldn’t say no damage whatsoever.”
Gemma flinched. “Have you got insurance?”
“Yeah, yeah. Although I don’t know how I’m going to explain this. Will you be a witness?”
“Afraid I didn’t see anything. I was busy trying to take care of my young friend . . . my young friend . . .”
“Dax. Everybody calls me Dax.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid Dax and I were a little preoccupied. Sorry.”
The man grumbled and stomped away. Gemma turned back to the young boy.
“Everything’s okay. Your dad will be out in just a minute, okay? No harm done. Do you want me to wait here till he gets out?”
“I know who you are,” the boy whispered. “I saw your movie. You’re Wonder Woman.”
“Oh, no. No. I am not Wonder Woman.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
Gemma didn’t know when she’d ever seen such a disappointed face. Just a moment ago, he’d looked so excited, so thrilled. It reminded her, just a little bit, of her silly hopefulness that she might have robot parts. How cool would it be for him if he actually believed that he’d met Wonder Woman?
“All right. This is a very big secret. Can you keep a big secret?”
He nodded anxiously.
“All right. Yes. You were right. Yes, I’m her. But you’ve gotta keep this on the down-low. Understand?”
She was greeted with a big, incredulous grin.
“I knew it. I knew it.” Dax sighed, happy and smitten. “Batman used to be my favorite. But now, it’s you. Can I be your friend?”
What an earnest and hopeful request. Just a few weeks ago, having a real friendship outside of her caretakers was as much of a pipe dream as walking. Now, here was this incredibly sweet child whose biggest desire was to be her friend. It felt like something of an honor.
> “I would love to be your friend, Dax. And my name, my ordinary name that I tell people who don’t know who I really am, is Gemma. You can call me Gemma.”
Dax’s father came back out of the daycare center and was surprised to see his son with this lovely young woman from the gym who had caught his eye.
“Dad. This is Gemma. She’s going to be my new friend.”
Roland held out his hand for Gemma to shake. “Very pleased to meet you, Gemma. I’m Roland Carmichael, and I see that you’ve already met Dax.”
“Well, I’m pleased to meet you both,” Gemma said, suddenly tongue-tied in front of this very attractive stranger. “I’m afraid I have to run and meet some friends, but I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, Dax.”
“Yeah, and don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone our secret—except, of course, my dad. I’m not supposed to keep any secrets from him.”
Roland looked at Gemma suspiciously. She backed away self-consciously.
“Okay, see you two later. Bye-bye.” And with that, she scurried away. What on earth was Roland Carmichael going to think of her when Dax revealed their “secret”?
As she walked briskly down the street, she became aware of a pair of piercing eyes watching her intently. It was a black-clad, extremely creepy older lady. She seemed so unpleasant . . . so malicious. Why on earth was she taking such an interest in Gemma?
*****
Bruce and his wife, Phoebe, were overjoyed to see Gemma. Phoebe had been told about Gemma’s recovery by her husband, but it had to be seen to be believed.
“This is incredible. How is this even possible?” Phoebe marveled.
Well, you cut open a powerful dead witch, harvest all her organs and body parts, transplant them into sick people, and voila!
“I guess I can thank some really cutting-edge drugs and state-of-the-art procedures,” Gemma hedged.
“They should let everyone know that these techniques are available. They should be shouting from the rooftops. Why haven’t we heard anything about this? Why aren’t they using it on more people?”
“Umm . . . Dr. Svenson hasn’t gone into any great detail with me about this. But I did get the impression . . .” Gemma lowered her voice to a whisper, “That these procedures aren’t exactly AMA-approved. But the doctor was willing to take some very big risks for a very big reward, and I’m certainly grateful that he did.”
“Yeah, I suspected it might be something a little . . . black market. But who cares about that? It worked. That’s all that matters. It worked,” Bruce declared.
Bruce and Phoebe’s seven-year-old son gaped shyly at Gemma.
“Do you remember Bobcat? Because he sure remembers you. And his brother Bear is in bed resting. He just had a bad accident yesterday—had to get sixteen stitches in his hand, and he almost lost a finger.”
“Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that. Hi, Bobcat. You remember me?”
“You couldn’t move. You move really good now. And you have a kitty.”
Gemma had brought along Ping-Pong and correctly predicted that Bruce and the cat would be happy to see one another. Bruce had to laugh on hearing the cat’s name.
“Ping-Pong. That’s perfect. That was his favorite thing, wasn’t it? I should’ve known that you had named him. I could see your mind was at work, even though I had no idea just what was going on in there.”
“Can I play with Ping-Pong?” Bobcat asked.
“I think he would love that,” Gemma said.
Ping-Pong was happy to maul and chase Bobcat’s toys until he suddenly sat up stiffly, ears tensed, and dashed up the stairs.
“He went upstairs. I think he went to see Bear.”
“You know, I would love to see Bear myself. Would it be all right if I went up to say hi?” Gemma asked.
“That would be great. It would help to take his mind off his accident. Bobcat, why don’t you show Gemma up while we get dinner ready?”
Gemma went upstairs into a small bedroom, where a grimly brave four-year-old was fighting the discomfort of the wound under his fully-bandaged hand. His other hand was petting Ping-Pong, a welcome distraction.
Gemma introduced herself, and the boy was as polite as could be and asked several questions about the cat. But all the while, he was grimacing in pain, which tore at Gemma’s heart. She reached over and touched his hand gently, not wanting to hurt him with her strong grip. The boy closed his eyes, as if he’d just dropped off to sleep.
When his eyes opened, he examined his hand with puzzled delight.
“It stopped hurting. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
He gave it a gentle shake, and then a vigorous one. Then he leaped out of bed and ran for the door, quickly followed by Bobcat, Gemma, and Ping-Pong. They all rushed to the living room, Gemma’s mind spinning about what had actually happened and how to explain it to this family.
“Mommy! Daddy! It stopped hurting. She touched me, and it stopped hurting.”
Bruce and Phoebe were momentarily alarmed and disoriented, but after they were convinced that their son was indeed feeling no pain, they were understandably in need of an explanation.
“Did you touch Bear? And what does that have to do with anything? How could that make him feel better?” Phoebe asked.
“Acupressure,” Gemma said with the first remotely rational explanation that popped into mind. “I know a lot about how acupressure can ease pain, get rid of it completely. So, I just gave it a try with Bear, and it worked out pretty well. “
Bruce’s brow was furrowed. “Acupressure? When did you have time to learn acupressure? You’ve only been back into life for a week now.”
“I . . . uh . . . back in the day, back when I was in high school, I was very into acupressure. Studied everything I could about it. And I still remember quite a bit . . .” Gemma’s voice trailed off.
Fortunately, everyone was too happy to question her story. Bear was well enough to join the family for lunch, and the mood of celebration grew even bigger.
From the moment that Gemma had left Bear’s room, she had felt a little different—strangely tired. After bidding the family goodbye, she walked out to her borrowed car and looked around to see that the coast was clear. And then she tried to lift the car, an action that had been easily accomplished on a number of earlier occasions. But not today. Something that happened. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Her strength was gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
Even though Dr. Svenson and Lorna Sinclair were in on her secret, they had both admitted to Gemma that they were far from experts on the subject of being a witch. They had both referred her to Delphine Sykes, who, in addition to being a local jewelry boutique owner, was a very wise elder witch who had a soft spot in her heart for Lilith Hazelwood’s transplant beneficiaries and the difficulties they faced in adjusting to new and confusing realities.
With her strength gone, Gemma needed to talk to someone who could give her some answers. She drove straight to Delphine’s boutique and was surprised when the grandmotherly elder witch greeted her by name.
“I have looked forward to meeting you, Gemma Keating. I’ve heard many good things about you. And I have wanted you to know that I am always available for any questions you might have. Or any assistance you might need.”
“I really do appreciate that, Ms. Sykes.”
“Delphine.”
“Delphine. I actually do have a problem. Did Lorna tell you how strong I was? Like how crazy strong I was?”
“She did, indeed. And it doesn’t surprise me. Lilith Hazelwood was formidable in every way. Of course, that would extend her physical strength. Are you enjoying your new talents?”
“I’ve lost it! It just disappeared, just a couple of hours ago. One minute, it was there, and the next minute, it was gone, and I was hoping that you could help me. Tell me what to do.”
Delphine nodded. “Well, the first thing we can do is to close up shop for a few hours, and we’ll take a nice long stroll on the pier. I find that fresh air helps clear th
e mind.”
And so, Gemma and Delphine wound up at the beach. It was a feast for the senses. The waves roared into shore and the smell of salt was in the air, along with some squawking seagulls. The squealing children were having a blast, able to entertain themselves endlessly with only water and sand. Gelato, smoothie, and hotdog vendors dotted the beach. A surfing class was underway, with half a dozen students learning how to leap on and keep balance on their boards. Gemma and Delphine strolled past all the happy din of activity and walked down the pier.
“How did you feel when you realized that your special abilities were gone?” Delphine inquired.
“I was upset. I don’t know why. But it was kind of depressing. Which is ridiculous, when I have so much to be grateful for. I’m back to normal now. I can talk to people, walk on the beach, and feel the wind and the sun. It’s everything I dreamed of when I was trapped in my useless, sick body.”
“But all the same . . . you wanted your strength back.”
“I did. I really did. It made me feel . . . special. It made me feel as if—don’t laugh—but it made me feel as if I was going to do great things. Though I have no idea what. And now it’s gone.”
“Did you help someone today? Someone who was sick or someone who was injured? Did you heal anyone?”
“I went to visit a little boy who’d just sliced his hand in a terrible accident, and he was in a lot of pain. And I touched his hand, and his pain went away. I knew that it had something to do with that witch part of me. Because I don’t feel pain or get hurt. I don’t bleed or get scratched or get injured. I just didn’t know that was something that I could pass on to someone else.”
“Your body is impervious to most injury and to most pain. That does not make you immortal. Lilith Hazelwood was the most powerful witch the world has possibly ever seen. And she was not immortal. She was murdered. So, do not behave recklessly, thinking that you are invincible.