by Al K. Line
I slammed my hand on the steering wheel, beyond frustrated, and then the tears fell. I felt like an abject failure. I'd let Steve down, I'd let Sunshine down. For the first time in a long while, I felt absolutely helpless.
The momentum had ceased, there was no build-up from one event to another. We'd hit a dead end and I had nothing.
"It's okay. At least you tried." Steve slumped back into the seat and I drove to my new house in silence.
We entered without a word, what was there to say? I left Vicky and Steve in the living room and went into the kitchen to be alone for a few minutes. I filled the kettle then flicked the switch and busied myself preparing for coffee. The Gate of Bakaudif loomed at the fake door to the garden, already housed behind a professional coat of plaster. It flowed seamlessly into the space but I knew it was there, knew its power, and was tempted to run through screaming and sprint all the way home to have a cuddle from Penelope.
What should I do? Who should I talk to? Where was she?
It was too stressful, I didn't like the pressure. This was why I stuck to nicking artifacts—I either got it or I didn't. Nobody would die if I failed to complete the job. At least nobody I cared about.
Exhausted beyond my usual semi-comatose state of being, I rested my hands on the Formica tabletop and let the guilt and shame wash over me. I let it all out, didn't hold back, allowed this human body and mind to experience what it wanted to the fullest, no holds barred.
Tears fell for all the scared children in the world, adults too. My body shook, but I continued, allowed all the emotion to surface, to peak, and slowly, over several minutes, it eased. You have to detach from it all, allow yourself to be what it wants to be, and then you can take back control and focus, get shit done.
That's what I intended to do. We'd get things done.
Sunshine needed us.
"I won't let you down," I whispered.
The kettle had clicked off minutes earlier, so I switched it back on and poured in the milk while I waited. Then I made the drinks and took them into the living room, wishing with all my heart I had something to say, a plan that had suddenly formed, but all I had were three mugs of flavored water.
Vicky and Steve were sitting silently on the new Scandinavian beech sofa, their red faces in stark contrast to the pale green cotton of the covers. They held hands so tightly their knuckles were white, and neither spoke. The smell of fresh paint made my head spin. I felt sick. I was useless.
I carefully placed the drinks on three new coasters I already hated because they showed heat rings and who needs that in their life, and then I sat opposite them.
With a deep breath, I said words I never thought I'd have to say. "You guys have to come up with a plan. I don't know what to do next. Sure, we can go around the usual dodgy suspects and bash a few heads, but I can't see that working. We can put out feelers and I have no doubt that given time word will come back and we'll know who did this, but we haven't got time and we haven't got their location even if we knew who did this. So, you'll have to help. Vicky, you find anything with your snooping?"
"It isn't snooping, it's research. Work."
"Whatever. You got anything?"
"No. All we have is the people going to the port, the boat drops off the radar, and I can't find them after that. But you said they must have come back to the city. I tried looking at road cameras, but I don't even know what I'm searching for. There's too much to sift through. I never even saw their faces."
"Okay, Steve, who could it have been that took her? Who looked after her on the boat?" I realized then that I should have made Steve check out all the bodies so we'd know who was dead and who wasn't. But then, he didn't recognize anyone from the footage Vicky found, and if he'd known them he should've been able to pick them out even without seeing their face. This wouldn't help, but it was worth a shot.
"A few I knew, the old-timers, the ones who were always around, but some of the others changed every year or two."
"And you know where to find the old dudes?"
"I guess." Steve shrugged.
"Would they tell you who the others were, because of what's happened?"
"No, they won't know. It was all super-secret. Nobody ever knew what was happening apart from the ones in charge and her mum. They switched things up, kept everyone in the dark. We can go ask though. It's a start. They might know who was there and who should have been."
"Good, let's go over the ones you knew were always there and I'll describe who I found on board."
For the next half hour we sifted through the details and came up with a depressing realization. Everyone who Steve knew was always around was dead. As for the rest, as best I could describe them, Steve was at a loss.
"And we have no idea who anyone is who's alive?" I said, just to be clear and maybe to make us all even more depressed.
"None."
"In that case, it's plan B."
"Which is?" asked Vicky.
"Magic. If in doubt, it's always magic."
Inspiration Hits
I almost fell off my chair as the mention of magic jolted something inside, releasing a sliver of hope clinging to my heart like snot on a pane of glass.
"Change of plan," I stammered. Heat rose from my stomach, all warm and fuzzy-like, and I knew I was onto something.
"I thought there was no plan?" asked Vicky, squinting at me.
"There wasn't, now there is. Forget plan B, this is plan-fucking-A!"
"What are you on about, mate?" asked Steve as he edged forward on the sofa.
"I'm talking about the blindingly obvious that we haven't bothered to even think about."
"Which is?"
"Wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes if my hunch is right."
They both protested, thinking I was gonna go off on a mad one and leave them alone for the night, but I wouldn't do that to Steve. Vicky, yes. Steve, no.
I went into the kitchen and exited through the door into the back garden. I promptly returned inside and grabbed my boots, carried them through the house, grinning foolishly at the others as I passed back and forth, then put them on and tried again.
Cat-like, I hopped the new fence and crept across the neighbor's lawn, then repeated the actions until I came to the end house. Peering over their hedge to ensure the coast was clear, I scrambled over then squatted down and snooped around the corner into my street. I had a good vantage point, merged with the shadows, and I waited.
Nothing moved, and then I nearly jumped out of my skin when a cat sidled up and began rubbing against my leg.
"Shoo, I'm busy."
The beast glared at me then shrugged and wandered off down the street, acting like it owned the place. Bloody cats.
I focused on the individual cars, but there was nothing to see, nobody coming or going. Knowing I was right, or praying I was, I waited, unmoving, as still as Vicky's eyebrows after she tied her hair back.
There it was! A faint glow coming from inside a car. No sooner was it there than it was gone. Bloody amateurs. Probably checking in with the others, or social media or something, but looking at their phone had given them away.
Wasting no time, and with my ace ninja-wizard skills, I dashed low across the road and hugged the hedge on the opposite side. I waited a moment then hopped the front fence, not risking the gate squeaking, and made my way to the rear garden. Then it was more hedge-hopping until I figured I was one house behind the car. I stepped carefully around the side path and crawled along the wet lawn then peered over the hedge.
There was a guy inside, face turned away from me, looking directly at my house.
All this running around when I should have known better, thought about it logically and recalled what I knew about how kidnappers acted.
They were nervous, jittery, and they wanted their money. What they did not want was you telling the police, or anyone else, and they certainly didn't want you taking it upon yourself to find them. They expected you to try, but they kept eyes on you if they could
so warnings could be issued if you got too close.
As far as they were concerned, it was best if you did look for them. It kept you busy, stopped you doing anything too stupid, and that way they knew you hadn't called in the big guns.
We were obviously living up to expectations and they were happy to keep an eye on Steve and make sure he did nothing rash.
I'd show them rash.
Kerpow!
I hunched down behind the nondescript Ford and released Wand. He was already burning bright, so I covered him up quick before he gave us away.
"Tone it down," I whispered.
"Oops. Hehe. We gonna blast the hell out of him? We are, aren't we? Shall I make his head pop? Like a melon? That would be cool."
"You need therapy. What is wrong with you?"
"It's been ages since I got to go wild. We don't get any action at the moment. Well, you do, but I don't."
"Look, I know it was a quiet few weeks, but you've been in action since we got back. And anyway, no, you can't explode his head. We need him. We have zero leads apart from this guy, so we need him alive and we need him to talk. Do not kill him," I warned.
"Fine. You are such an old man. Can I at least blow some of him up?"
I thought for a moment. "Okay. Just a bit. Nothing on the head," I said hurriedly, knowing what he was like.
"How about an arm? Arms are always good. All gristly and bony and it freaks them right out."
"Of course it freaks people out if they get their arm blown off. You need arms, they have fingers on the end and that's super important."
"Don't see what the big fuss is. They're just like crappy sticks all bunched together tight. You humans are such babies even when all grown up."
"Wand, have you ever been in pain? Have you ever felt agony, the feeling like you'd rather die than put up with the hurt for a moment longer?"
"Huh? No, I'm a stick."
"Exactly. So you don't get to judge. You're an extension of me so you know how much I hurt at times. Don't dismiss pain and the right to bang on about it for ages as inconsequential, it's what makes us human."
"Whatever. We gonna blast or we gonna bicker?"
"We usually do both," I noted.
"True."
I stood rapidly, lowered Wand, grinned as he flared to life and the guy in the car turned his head, then I released him as my will shunted down my arm with as much force as I could muster. To keep the noise to a minimum, I focused the energy as tightly as possible, and thankfully Wand did as I intended.
He shot through the rear window, making a perfect hole, so fast and accurate that I heard nothing more than a whisper. For a moment I panicked, worrying he'd shoot straight through the guy's head and out the front of the car, but he behaved and swerved at the last moment, darted across to the passenger side, readjusted, then sprang forward and curved around to come to a stop a fraction of an inch from the man's eye.
The mark stayed very, very still.
Whistling, I sauntered around to the side and opened the door.
"Hello," I said genially. "Nice evening for it."
"What do you want?" he asked with a sigh, knowing he was well and truly busted.
"I merely wondered if you would like to come in for a nice cuppa? There's biscuits. With chocolate on." I wiggled my eyebrows; who could resist such an offer?
"If I say no?"
"Then Wand here will pull back a little, and then he will slam as hard as he can right into your eyeball. It will pop, making one hell of a mess, and you will scream. And then he'll do the other one. And then you'll come in for a cuppa, but I won't let you have any biscuits for being a naughty boy."
"Fuck you."
"Hey, Wand, remember that thing you wanted to do?" Wand lowered his tip. "You have my permission to do it."
"Whoa! Wait. What? What's he gonna do?"
"Too late, buddy. The Hat never asks twice."
Wand spiraled around and around the man's head at a dizzying speed, and I shut the car door quickly to muffle the sound as he dived down hard and true. A series of sigils flared along his length, lighting up the interior like an eighties disco. I hummed 99 Red Balloons by Nena, man what a song. The German original's better though.
The screams were muted, but still loud enough, prompting me to check around to ensure nobody was woken. All good.
I watched as Wand burrowed his bottom deeper into the guy's arm. As the last sigil lit up in the correct sequence, so magic that was mine and his and yet neither of ours erupted in all its magnificent glory. The man's arm burst apart from the elbow down in a shower of gore than coated the glass and made it impossible to see through
I gave it a few moments while he screamed, and until the built-in painkiller in the spell took effect, utterly numbing the arm and stopping my victim going into shock so I could do more nasty stuff if required, then opened the door.
The man whimpered and stared in horror at his missing arm. I picked a finger off the dash and handed it to him. "Is this yours? Very careless of you. Now, about that coffee?"
The guy nodded. Wand shot back into my hand and I pocketed him like a gunslinger happy with his death count.
"That's more like it. Out you get." The man took a while to emerge, understandable, and I said, "Lead the way. After all, you know where we are, right?"
He snarled, then stumbled across the street.
Oops
"Shit, shit, shit."
The man dropped to all fours without warning, make that all threes, and his clothes shed from his back like autumn leaves in a strong gale. His stocky frame rippled, and his already hairy back sprouted as though fertilized. Thick tufts of hair grew rapidly, covering the broad expanse of muscle that bunched tight beneath. His shoes split and the heels extended until I wondered if he'd been considering joining the circus, but this was no laughing matter, especially when I saw what his arms were doing.
A quick glance to check everyone remained tucked up in bed, oblivious to the nighttime terrors going on below them, then I said, "Go on then," and Wand yipped as he blasted up from my pocket and shot forward then did a sharp turn and halted right in front of his eye.
The beast ceased all movement, froze like a rabbit in the headlights as Wand vibrated merrily in front of him.
The impasse lasted only a second, and then the man decided to risk it. As he grabbed for Wand, my faithful familiar decided enough was enough and snapped forward like an elastic band released at full stretch.
The pop was audible, the scream not so much as Wand extricated himself from the idiot's eyeball and wedged himself between the man's teeth.
"Get him off, he'll leave teeth marks," moaned Wand as I hurried to collect the shredded clothes then grabbed an arm, already back to normal human size, if rather hairy and thick around the wrist. Fast as I could, I dragged the protesting lookout up the front path and knocked on the door.
Vicky peered around the door, and I hissed, "Open up, hurry," then pulled the dead weight inside and dropped him in the hallway. Vicky slammed the door shut and I said, "Help me get him into the living room."
She took a leg and I pulled on his arm as Steve appeared.
"Clear a space. No, actually, we'll dump him on the couch. No, wait, he'll get blood on it. Go into the kitchen and look under the sink. There's a canvas bag in there, bring it in. Um, please. Thanks, Steve."
Steve nodded and skirted around us then hurried off.
Vicky and I continued moving the huge guy inside and eventually got him into the front room.
Panting, I took the bag off Steve when he returned and pulled out a large folded sheet of plastic, a roll of tape, and a hammer.
"Prepared for a spot of blood spraying, were you?"
"You never know," I grunted.
"What's the hammer for?" asked Vicky.
"Whacking them over the head or breaking their fingers." I glared at the man as he eyed the hammer warily.
"Get him on the couch please," I asked as I laid out the plastic over the new s
ofa and taped it at the back so it wouldn't slip off.
Vicky and Steve manhandled him but he was too heavy so I helped. When he was in place, I punched him in the stomach. With an "Oompf," he opened wide and Wand tore away, spun around the room, then stopped in front of the mirror over the fireplace.
"Am I damaged? Has he ruined any of the sigils?"
"No, you're fine. You're made of bloody unicorn wood, a set of teeth won't hurt you."
"Is he talking to Wand?" asked Steve.
"Yeah. Annoying, isn't it?" Vicky replied.
Wand spun several times to check himself out, he of zero eyes, then sped for my pocket where he nestled deeply like a puppy wanting the comfort of its mother. It's nice to feel loved.
We turned our attention to our captive. He didn't look that great.
A Warning
"Do not say a word until I tell you to," I warned. "Do not move, do not moan, and do not bleed on my soft furnishings."
"What's going on?" asked Steve, glaring at the guy because obviously he was no friend of ours.
"Where's his arm?" asked Vicky, mesmerized by the oozing stump and the jagged bone sticking out.
"He lost it. And this is someone who is involved in the kidnap of Sunshine. I realized they probably had people keeping an eye on you to make sure you tried nothing that would risk them being paid. It's how they work, and I was right. He was in a car. Now he's here. Wand wanted to pop both his eyes, but I only let him do one."
"My bloody eye. You bastard. And my arm, it's all numb."
"I said no talking," I hissed, slapping the hammer head into my palm. He shut up.
We stood staring at him, none of us saying a word. This was it, crunch time. We knew it, he knew it.
But what now? Torture wasn't my thing, I couldn't do nasty stuff to somebody to get them to tell me things. Or I could, but I wouldn't, because it leaves such a terrible stain on your soul. It would eat away at me, at all of us, and we would be despicable human beings.
Good thing was, the dude with the missing arm and eyeball didn't know that. Vicky wouldn't do it either, but Steve was another thing altogether. This man knew where his daughter was, had taken her, terrified her, maybe done awful things to her. Maybe hurt her. If it was your child, what would you do to get her back? Would you torture the person who could help you get her?