by A. D. Folmer
“We’ve reached an agreement on the mall,” Steve announced as Fiona set out drinks and sandwiches.
“It’s on again?” I said. “Jesticorps can’t take a hint, can they?”
“Not when there’s money to be spent,” Steve said. “I’ve received official word that nothing short of Christ himself returning in all his glory will halt construction now that the chupacabras have been dealt with.”
“It’s more likely to be declared a Superfund site than a wildlife refuge now,” Fiona said. “And if Jesticorps is willing to pay for the cleanup I’m not going to keep protesting. Exposing and ending the evil alien threat is enough for me.”
“That was your angle from the beginning wasn’t it?” I said. “You knew something was there.”
“I suspected,” she said. “Mostly because it was a stupid place for a mall, no offense intended.”
“None taken,” Steve said. “We’re going to take precautions now that the shoppers won’t notice.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“For starters, a concrete plug over the hole. Then Cecilia has agreed to put some witchy protection on the ground. With a few alterations to the design to make the building resistant to alien invasion, we’ll be good to go. I’m thinking of making the seal grotesquely extravagant. If it’s over the top enough, we might become a tourist destination.”
“What about the darkness from the forest? Won’t it frighten away shoppers?” Steve shrugged.
“We’ll put it in the middle of a courtyard,” he said.
“No one’s seen it except you,” Fiona said, “and it’s never hurt anyone. If it bothers you stay away from the mall. That’s what it wants.”
“There’s one thing I still don’t get about Dr. Finch’s motivations,” I said.
“Yes?” Fiona prompted me.
“Why was he searching Cecilia’s shop and Steve’s and my things? The key was too big to hide where he was looking, and we never found a map of the tunnel or anything else useful.”
Fiona sighed.
“If I told you he was looking for Obadiah’s stash of chocolate coins would you believe me?” she asked.
“No,” I said. If Legion was right, I had that anyway.
“I have an ancestor who was not nice,” she said. “Several of them, actually. It’s possible that Obadiah ended up with some of his things either through tunneling -” she looked at me to gauge my reaction – “or because the late wizard Noah Whateley, my former neighbor, gave it to him.”
“Wait a minute,” Steve interrupted, “are you saying there might be more magical booby traps in that house?” She nodded.
“I apologize for not warning you earlier,” she said, not looking apologetic at all. “Until you told me about the logic book I thought they would be more eldritch in nature. Or at least look valuable. It seems Dr. Finch thought the same if he broke into the store but not the house.”
“Are there any other unwelcome surprises about that house you care to share?” Steve asked her. She shook her head.
“I never visited Obadiah at home,” she said. “No one did. If we had, we wouldn’t have let him bury himself in junk like that.”
“How much longer are you going to stay in town?” she asked me, changing the subject.
“Oh, a few more days,” I said. “I’m still not done sorting through Mr. Fry’s stuff.”
“You don’t have to finish all at once,” Steve said. “When I made the offer I didn’t realize I’d bought a hoard.”
“I wonder how his sister-in-law would feel if she knew how many valuables were left in the house.”
“I paid her enough that she shouldn’t have room to complain.”
“Should and would are two very different things,” Fiona reminded him.
“True,” Steve agreed.
I noticed that Fiona had glossed over an important detail; Dr. Finch couldn’t have broken into Obadiah’s magically protected home if he’d wanted to.
“How is Gregory feeling?” I asked. He had been banished to the kitchen after trying to eat the entire fruit salad she’d set out. “He missed his chance to go home.”
“He seems fine. To be honest, I’m not sure he understood much of what was going on.”
***
That evening I took Theresa to the diner again, this time for carry out. She viewed my extra burger and fries with suspicion.
“Do you have a date tonight?” she asked me.
“No,” I told her. “I’m eating with a friend.”
“Thanks for saving my life,” she told me.
“No problem.” I stuck my hand in my coat pocket to get my car keys and felt something hard and round instead. I pulled it out, and Theresa gasped in delight. “I suppose this is for you,” I told her, and handed over the chocolate coin. She took it with a smile.
I tried to repeat the trick again after I dropped her off at the hotel with no luck. Legion was pleased with the cheeseburger and unsurprised by the coin.
“Perhaps giving them away is the key,” he said. “Think about giving me a coin, and try again.”
Sure enough, a coin appeared in my pocket.
“It’s too bad I don’t have any nieces or nephews,” I said, giving him the coin. “Now I’ve got an endless supply of candy, and no way of using it without looking like a creep.” He seemed puzzled. I tried to explain, and we spent the rest of the night discussing the modern world, and the mall. He seemed keen to check it out. He also seemed keen to continue our acquaintance. He gave me his phone number and made me promise to call him at least once a week. I remembered Steve’s warning and promised anyway. It didn’t seem like a difficult promise to keep.
That night I dreamed of the bronze gate again. It was wide open. A column of black mist extended high into the red sky, each tendril of mist ending in a dark hand. I tried to run only to find myself surrounded by shades. They were solid now and try as I might I couldn’t push through them. The column of darkness crashed to the earth, washing over me. I felt colder than I ever had before. I opened my mouth to scream, and darkness rushed in.
As quickly as it arrived it disappeared, leaving a closed gate, a clear blue sky, and a field full of shades. This time when I shoved them out of my way they rushed to obey.
I woke up cold and confused. My amber pendant was clear again, and all the moths were in place. Full night’s sleep or not, I couldn’t take much more of this. I looked out the window. At least there weren’t any more lights in the marsh.
***
The next day Steve tracked me down at the bar.
“You’ll never guess who wanted to talk to me,” he said.
“Who? More cultists?”
“Nope,” he said. “The elusive Mrs. Fry. She was hysterical. It seems she heard some of the real story of what happened to her brother-in-law. She couldn’t make up her mind if she wanted to get his things back because she’d misjudged him all these years, or never wanted to see them again because she’d had such a traumatic experience.”
“She had a traumatic experience?”
“But of course. Remember how you said she and Abner Whateley were in cahoots?”
“I vaguely remember something along those lines,” I said. “Did you find out the details?” Steve grinned.
“She didn’t reveal the whole sordid mess, but she did feel the need to unburden herself about the terrible deal she made with that evil man who bombed the construction site.”
That was part of the cover story we were repeating. Not that I’d felt the need to lie. Agent Steiner and Agent Starr were adamant that they could not put the real sequence of events in their official report. To minimize our further involvement the late Finch monster had been labeled a terrorist who’d stolen the real Dr. Finch’s identity to blend in. Homeland security would now get involved, but that was a problem for any remaining cultists and whoever had given the creature a fake ID.
“So he tried to buy the property before Jesticorps did,” I said. “His scheme went off with
out a hitch, so why didn’t the sale go through?”
“That’s just it,” Steve said. “She wasn’t broken up about Obadiah’s death. She’s convinced Abner’s death was her fault. She was all set to sell to Dr. Finch when someone from Jesticorps showed up with ten times the money. There were other heirs to the estate, and it was a ton of money, way more than the land would ever be worth. She couldn’t resist all the extra zeroes. Realistically, once the offer went public, she couldn’t have sold to Dr. Finch without prompting investigations from the other heirs. She thinks that the cultists took their anger out on Abner.”
“He would have been in a tight spot,” I said. “If selling the land for cheap was part of the payment for killing Obadiah Dr. Finch must have felt cheated as well as disappointed.”
“You know what this really means don’t you?” Steve asked me.
“What?”
“There were two groups of cultists involved in this.”
“Oh no,” I said. “Do you think we got them all?”
“No way,” Steve said. “I’ll be watching my back for a long time after this. You’d better do the same.”
“I will,” I said. Not that I meant it. I was headed back to Anaheim. There were fanatics there to be sure, but there were interested in rollercoasters, parades, and a much more wholesome kind of magic.
On that note, I went down to the smoking room to watch the goldfish one last time. They’d been beautiful specimens in life. With the aquarium light on their transparent bodies glistened like moving gems. If I could repeat this stunt reliably I might have a profitable new line of work. The ASPCA didn’t care about fish, so my no maintenance fish tanks wouldn’t cause controversy. When I tried to leave Barry, my original fishy nemesis, swam through the glass to follow me.
“Oh no,” I said. “No, no, no. Get back in there.” To my shock, he obeyed. “Come here, Barry,” I called. He swam back to me. “Now go back to the tank.” I experimented with other fish. I didn’t need to know their names, just thinking about the one I wanted to order around was enough. Somehow, I’d become stronger while I was here.
I quit playing with the fish before anyone could come down the stairs and catch me at it. If this was because of my dreams, then Jeremiah might be able to explain it. I could never ask him though. This was exactly the sort of thing Sheriff Warren was concerned about when he’d been thinking about having me killed. I’d just accept my good fortune and get the hell out of town.
***
Finally, after saying my goodbyes and getting all my clothes back from the cleaners, Sheriff Warren told me I wasn’t needed for any more interviews and Steve was satisfied with my work. I packed up my things and prepared to go back to California and warmer weather. Cassandra caught me in the parking lot as I was putting the last suitcase in my trunk. She’d come to let me know all of her equipment was out of Steve’s house. She was looking much better. I hadn’t realized how much of her pallor had been from worry and stress. She looked ten years younger, and the shadows under her eyes were gone. If I hadn’t exorcised her myself, I never would have known she’d been possessed. She smiled at me as I followed her to the back garden.
“I see you got rid of the goldfish,” she said.
“Yeah, it was sad to see them go but I couldn’t steal Theresa’s pets.” She laughed.
“I’m sure,” she said. “Listen, I’m sorry about trying to conscript you earlier. I really appreciated everything you did for me.”
“Don’t mention it,” I said. “Gregory might never speak to you again though.”
“Gregory?”
“The baby squid alien.”
“Ah. I’m sorry about that. I was looking for anything to distract me. Crypto-zoology is my real passion you know.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, it is. The only thing positive that’s come out of this is that I’ve been invited to speak at a crypto-zoology convention this spring.”
“About the giant squid or the chupacabras?” She grinned.
“About the fluffy bird monsters,” she said. “Most crypto-zoologists aren’t totally insane, you know.”
“You could have fooled me,” I said. “Wait; were you even there to see the portal penguins?”
“I saw one for about five minutes while I was trying to start my machine,” she reminded me. “I’m hoping someone will fill in the details for me.”
“I might be able to,” I heard myself say. “I was attacked by one.”
“Really?”
“It was terrifying.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I’ve got to get going if I want to be in California tonight,” I said. “You can call me if you want to talk about them more.”
“I’d like that,” she said. She ran her fingers through the leaves of a rosebush. The only flowers on it at this time of year were dead. “The convention will be in Lafayette. Louisiana is beautiful in the spring.”
“I’ve never been to Louisiana,” I said.
“Hmm. Well, it’s something to think about,” she said. “Enjoy your trip home, Mr. Windisle.” She went back to the hotel.
“You go, man,” Zebulon said after the door closed behind her. He’d been in the gazebo, smoking.
“What?” I asked.
“The crazy math lady likes you,” he said.
“Ah. I guess she does.”
“So does this mean that a trip to Louisiana is in your future?”
“No way,” I said. “She’s trying to lure me to a crypto-zoology convention. It’s hardly a hot date.”
“In that case why not come back here? It may not look like much now, but Washington is also beautiful in the spring. You also have all those old maps to sort, and Theresa will have some more dead pets for you to raise by then. I overheard her asking her dad for a hamster.”
“You’re not really selling it,” I said. He patted me on the back.
“It’s something to keep in mind,” he said. “See you later.”
“Sure,” I said. “See ya.”
***
After getting onto the highway, my drive was uneventful. Sparks fluttered around the car gazing at the changing scenery. When I crossed the border between Oregon and California, I stopped to stretch my legs and get something to drink. The weather was already warmer, and the skies were partly cloudy instead of overcast. I took off the pirate coat and threw it into the back seat. A few hours later I stopped at a hotel to spend the night. It wasn’t nearly as opulent as The Gates of Sleep. It didn’t have bloody lettering or theme food either. After making sure the room held no surprises, I opened the trunk of my car to get my suitcase.
A fluffy cloud of white exploded out of the trunk, knocking me over. As I stared up at the portal penguin, who was barking at me eagerly, I thought I’d be returning to Towenridge sooner than I’d expected.
About the Author
Amanda Folmer first discovered her interest in cryptids while growing up in the Pacific Northwest, and discovered how weird reality can be while serving in the Navy. She firmly believes that the truth is out there, probably under an interesting rock, or behind that tree over there. In one of her own stories, she would be the first to get eaten.
www.facebook.com/beneaththemallofmadness