“You think the guy works for Vincent Arkady?” the cop asked quickly.
“I can’t think of anyone else who wants me dead,” Malcolm said. “Look, why don’t my lawyer and I come in tomorrow, and we’ll talk to the detective in charge of the case? How would that be?”
“All right, I guess,” the officer said with a shrug. “If you don’t, we know where to find you.”
Malcolm grinned. “I’ll be here. Right now, though, I have to show these good people some of the sights I promised them.”
“I at least need to get their names and contact info.”
Every second’s delay meant that Foster Flynn was getting farther ahead of us. But there didn’t seem to be any way of avoiding it without arousing the officer’s suspicions even more, so Donovan and I gave him our names, our cell phone numbers, and our addresses in Corpus Christi. Finally, he let us go.
As we got into the Jeep and drove off, I said to Malcolm, “You know that Vincent Arkady d-didn’t send that man.”
“He might have. It’s a plausible story. I’d just as soon keep the truth out of it. I hope the police don’t give you any trouble.”
Donovan said, “I thought about telling that cop that we weren’t the droids he was looking for, but I didn’t figure it would do any good.”
Malcolm glanced back over his shoulder at him. “Can you do that?”
“Not really. But that talisman everybody’s after, it’s a thousand years old. You know what that makes it.”
They said it together. “The Millennium Falcon.”
Men. They could be at each other’s throats one minute and making Star Wars jokes in unison the next. I shook my head and said, “Drive, Malcolm. Please.”
o0o
Even though the Jeep’s passenger seat wasn’t all that comfortable, exhaustion caught up to me during the drive west from Las Vegas. I’d simply been going for too long without any rest. I went to sleep.
When I woke up, the sky was gray with the approach of dawn, and the Jeep was bumping over a rough, rutted dirt road. It was light enough now for me to see the rugged hills rising around us. Ahead of us were mountains, and the sun was already hitting the tops of those peaks.
I sat up straighter and looked behind me. Donovan was awake. He smiled at me and said, “Feel any better?”
“Not really. These things weren’t m-made for sleeping in.” I looked at Malcolm. “Are we getting close?”
“Another mile or so and we’ll be there,” he said.
Donovan asked, “What do we do if the old man isn’t here?”
“He’ll be here,” I said. “I’m not going to even th-think about anything else.”
The road, if you could call it that, twisted back and forth as it climbed up the side of a hill. The Jeep’s engine roared as it took the slope. If Foster was up there, he would hear us coming, I thought, but that couldn’t be helped.
As if he’d read my mind, Malcolm said, “This is the only way in and out from the mine. If he’s there he can’t get away.”
I concentrated, searching for the slightest sensation that would tell me the talisman was nearby. I didn’t feel anything, which was discouraging, but as I’d told Donovan, I wasn’t going to allow myself to give up hope.
The sky had lightened even more. I could see the rocks and dirt and cactus around us now. The road climbed up a final steep slope and came out on a flat shoulder that jutted from the side of the rugged hill.
That shoulder of land was about a hundred yards deep and maybe three hundred yards long. Several large buildings of corrugated metal were scattered around it. I saw a small, frame house and a longer frame building that looked like it might have been a barracks for the miners. Everything had a deserted, long-unused air about it.
“The mine doesn’t produce anymore?” I asked as Malcolm slowed the jeep.
He shook his head. “It hasn’t for years. The vein of silver played out. But not until it made enough for my great-grandfather to build the Shamrock. Even after that it produced some for a long time before it finally ran out.”
I saw the mine entrance in the side of the hill. It was a dark, squarish opening with a metal gate fastened across it to keep anyone from getting into the shaft. I thought it probably wouldn’t be too safe wandering around in there.
“I don’t see your uncle’s station wagon,” I said to Malcolm as he drove closer to the buildings.
“He has keys to the old storage sheds. He could have run it into one of them.” Malcolm brought the Jeep to a stop near the frame cottage. “This was where the mine superintendent lived. Foster could get in there, too.”
We got out of the Jeep. Malcolm cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Foster! Foster, we know you’re up here! You might as well come out of wherever you’re hiding!”
A strange voice with an accent I didn’t recognize called from behind us, “Not hiding!”
We all turned around quickly. Malcolm started to reach for the gun in the holster under his arm, but he stopped when he saw two figures emerge from behind one of the metal storage sheds nearby. The sun was nearly up, and it provided plenty of light for me to recognize Foster Flynn. I had never seen the man with him before.
But from the way the man had one arm looped around Foster’s neck and was using his other hand to press the barrel of a gun against the old man’s head, I knew he wasn’t a friend.
“Arkady,” Malcolm breathed.
Chapter 22
Well, of course. We finally track down Foster, and before we can find out where he stashed the talisman, a bloodthirsty Russian mobster shows up. I wondered where those mountain lions Malcolm had mentioned were, because they were bound to get mixed up in this, too.
That wild thought went through my head for a second, and then I forced myself to calm down and consider the situation coolly. With a gun at Foster’s head, we couldn’t do anything for the moment, magical or otherwise.
“Let him go, Arkady,” Malcolm called. “You know your problem is with me, not Foster. He’s no threat to you.”
“He is member of your family,” Arkady said. “You give me what I want, or I shoot him. I am tired of having the trouble with you, Flynn. That is why I am keeping eye on Uncle Foster here, waiting for this moment.”
“What cheap action movie did he come from?” Donovan said under his breath.
It was true. Vincent Arkady was an ugly, burly bear of a man, just what you’d expect from a Russian mobster who’d come to Las Vegas to muscle in on the local gambling scene.
But as Donovan had mentioned a couple of times, there was usually some truth to every cliché and stereotype. Vincent Arkady was living proof of that.
“What is it you want from me?” Malcolm asked.
“You know that already,” Arkady replied. “Sign over Shamrock to me, I let you and Uncle Foster and your friends go. Refuse and I kill you all, then take over Shamrock when county auctions it for taxes. Probably cheaper and easier that way, so go ahead and tell me no. I don’t care.”
“Uh-oh,” Donovan breathed. “He’s not alone.”
I saw movement from the corner of my eye and looked over to see several more men edging out from behind the sheds. They all looked as mean and dangerous as Arkady, and they carried automatic weapons.
Fear threatened to boil up and spill out of me. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. I never wanted anything like this to happen to me. Back in those long-ago days when I had been so shy and withdrawn – a whole month or so earlier – I might have daydreamed about romance and excitement and adventure, but now I knew those things weren’t all they were cracked up to be. Romance could be heartbreaking, and as for excitement and adventure, well, in real life they were so scary I didn’t know if I was going to pass out or wet myself at any moment, or both. I just wanted to go home…
The salt-laden wind hit me in the face. I heard the roar of the surf, and as I stumbled forward involuntarily I felt sand under my feet. Someone yelled in alarm. I felt a hand catch ho
ld of my arm to steady me and looked over to see Donovan. He said, “Aren, what – “
“Foster, get down!”
That was Malcolm. I jerked my head around and saw that the three of us were standing on a beach somewhere, with the tide washing in almost at our feet. We weren’t alone, either. Vincent Arkady and Foster were a few yards up the beach, and off to the side were Arkady’s men, all of them seemingly frozen in shock for the moment.
Arkady was confused and disoriented, too, and that had allowed Foster to twist free of his grip. At Malcolm’s shout, Foster threw himself forward on the sand. Malcolm had the big Colt .45 automatic in his hand. Even over the roar of the wind, the sound it made as it went off was a deafening roar. Arkady staggered and dropped his gun.
Donovan swept his other hand around, and the purple force that exploded from it crashed into Arkady’s men and knocked them all off their feet. As they were falling, Foster scrambled up and ran toward us. Malcolm stepped forward to grip his arm.
Just as abruptly as the scene around us had changed a few seconds earlier, it changed again, and suddenly we were back in Nevada, on the hillside where the Emerald Strike Mine was located. Arkady was down, writhing on the ground as blood welled from the bullet hole in his left shoulder, and his men were sprawled around like bowling pins.
But they would be up again in a matter of seconds, more than likely, and they still had their guns.
“The mine!” Foster gasped. “We got to get to the mine! We’ll be safe in there!”
“Go!” Malcolm said as he pushed his uncle toward the tunnel.
“Come on, Aren!” Donovan said. He urged me into a run.
Arkady pushed himself up on an elbow and yelled in a pain-wracked voice, “Kill them! Get up, you stupids, and kill them!”
His men were still too stunned to react quickly, though, and the four of us reached the mine entrance while they were still trying to gather up the weapons they had dropped when Donovan’s magic sent them flying. I saw that normally the metal gate across the tunnel mouth was fastened by a padlock, but it hung open now. Foster shoved the gate aside so we could run into the darkness.
It was a little like running into the gaping mouth of some great beast, I thought, and the darkness, along with that image, scared me. But I was more scared of the ruthless mobsters outside the mine. We dashed in and kept running. The light from the entrance was swallowed up within a few steps. I hoped we wouldn’t fall into a pit or crash into a stone wall.
About fifty feet in, Foster stopped us. “This is far enough,” he said. “Lemme shee if I can find it.”
The slur in his voice reminded me that he was still drunk from my spell. Or more drunk, rather, because Malcolm had said that his uncle was already drunk before the encounter at the magic club ever took place. I tried to remember the spell I had used to reverse the effect on the other old warlocks, but I was too scared and upset right then to think of the words.
Donovan put his arms around me. I was trembling, and it felt good to have him holding me again. Right then, I didn’t care if he ever let me go. The anger I had felt at him for the past few weeks was gone. Whether it had dissipated naturally, or I was just too scared to feel it, or I had finally accepted the fact that he loved me and I loved him, I didn’t know. Whatever the cause, it felt good, and I clung to him like I never intended to let go.
“Aren,” he said, “did you just transport us to Texas and back? That sure looked like the Gulf coast to me.”
“I…I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think so. I think I just made it l-look like we were there.”
Malcolm said, “Either way, it threw Arkady and his men for such a loop that we were able to get away. That’s all that matters.”
“Yeah, but now we’re stuck in here,” Donovan said. “And in a minute they’re going to start shooting along this tunnel. We’d better find a better place to hide – “
“No need,” Foster said. “I’ve – ” He had to stop to belch drunkenly. “I’ve got it.”
We turned to look at him, and suddenly the darkness was broken by an eerie green glow. Foster was holding the talisman, which gave off that emerald luminescence as he cradled it in his hands.
“It really works, doesn’t it?” he said. “It increases the power of any witch or warlock who holds it. I felt it in the magic club, and I felt it all the way out here. It’s like I was twenty years old again. That’s why I hid it in here. I’ll never give it up.”
His voice was clear and strong now. He didn’t sound the least bit drunk. I knew that was the falcon’s power at work. It allowed him to throw off the effects of my spell while he was holding it.
“Listen to me, Foster,” Malcolm said. “Aren and Donovan don’t want to take the bird away from you. They just need to borrow it to rescue their folks from a place where they’re trapped.”
“No!” Foster cried as he backed away from us. “Once they have it, they’ll never let it go! I can’t risk it!”
“Then at least let them help you get rid of Arkady and his men,” Malcolm urged. “Otherwise this tunnel is going to be filled with flying lead any minute now.”
The green light was bright enough now for me to see the realization come over Foster’s weathered face. He knew his nephew was right. The talisman wouldn’t do anybody any good if we were all riddled with bullets.
“All right,” he said. “Put your hands on it. But I’m not lettin’ it go!”
I stretched out my hand toward Cearul, and so did Donovan. “What are we going to d-do with them?” I asked.
“Can you send them back where they came from?” Malcolm asked.
“All the way to Russia?” Foster said. “I sorta like that idea.”
So did I. Normally transporting someone to the other side of the world would require far more power than I could muster by myself. I don’t think Donovan and I could have done it together, or even all three of us. But with the talisman to amplify our powers, it might be possible…
My hand touched the falcon.
It was like taking hold of a high-powered electrical line, but in a good way. The green glow brightened until it was almost blinding as power flowed from Donovan, Foster, and I into the talisman and then back out into our bodies. I caught a glimpse of Malcolm taking an involuntary step back from us with a look of awe on his face. Then I couldn’t see anything except that green light. Wind howled in the tunnel, and it carried to us the screams of men who found themselves being carried away from where they were supposed to be and transported…somewhere else.
The wind seemed to go on forever, but it probably lasted only a few moments. Then it died down, along with the emerald glare lighting up the tunnel. Slowly, everything returned to normal, even though Donovan and I still had our hands on the talisman. The glow from it was enough to light up the tunnel, but that was all. Its blinding intensity was gone.
“Is it over?” Malcolm asked, and his voice didn’t sound hollow just because we were in a tunnel, I thought.
“It should be,” Foster said.
“Stay here,” Malcolm told us. “I’ll go check.”
“Be careful,” I told him.
Malcolm headed toward the entrance with the .45 in his hand. We watched as he ventured warily out of the tunnel and disappeared. I found myself holding my breath, hoping we wouldn’t hear any shots.
When he came back a few minutes later, he said, “They’re gone, all right. No sign of them anywhere.”
Relief washed through me, not only because the threat from Arkady was over but also because Malcolm was all right.
“Did you really send them all the way back to Russia?” he went on.
“Well…maybe,” Foster said. “That was the plan. Never did anything quite like that before, so I can’t be absolutely sure where the varmints wound up.”
“I don’t care where they went as long as they’re not here.” Malcolm turned to Donovan and me. “You two are all right?”
“Yeah,” Donovan said. “I think so.”
“Fine,” I said. “Better than ever.”
It was true. Despite having gotten only a few hours sleep in an uncomfortable position while the Jeep bounced over rough roads, I wasn’t the least bit tired. I was filled with a vitality the likes of which I had never known. I knew it came from the talisman and was only temporary, but it still felt great.
Malcolm said, “Come on. With Arkady gone there’s no need for us to hide in here anymore.”
That meant letting go of the falcon. I didn’t want to. It felt too good. But I wanted Foster to help us of his own free will, so I forced myself to pull my hand away from the sleek, feathered surface. It was like giving up a part of myself. I felt a sharp pang of loss.
“Donovan,” I said when I saw he still had his hand on the talisman. “We have to.”
“I know.” He sighed. With a visible effort, he let go of the falcon and took a staggering step back away from it. “Lord. That’s not easy.”
With Malcolm leading the way, we walked out of the tunnel. Foster came next, cradling the talisman in front of him with both hands, then Donovan and I brought up the rear. The sun was up now, and as we stepped out of the mine the glare from it was blinding for a few seconds.
As we stood there blinking, Foster said, “Now, what’s all this about the two of you needin’ this ol’ bird to help you rescue somebody?”
“My father and Donovan’s mother,” I said. “They’re trapped in the realm of the witches’ council along with another woman.”
“It’s a weird story,” Malcolm said. “I didn’t believe it at first, Foster, but by now I think it’s obvious they’re telling the truth.”
With a frown, Foster asked, “There really is a realm of the witches’ council? I didn’t know there was such a thing.”
“It’s real,” I told him, “and it’s not a very good place. We really need to get them out of there, Mr. Flynn.”
He looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, “You ain’t stutterin’ no more, gal.”
“I was about to say the same thing,” Donovan said. “More grammatically, but basically the same thing.”
Misadventures of a Tongue-Tied Witch: Boxed Set Humorous Witch Series Page 30