by Martha Carr
"The Ice Cold Pitchers." Leira rolled her eyes. "They always try to make me catcher. I hate catcher." She let out a deep sigh. "Okay, I'll stand down."
"Good, then I have a question for you. Change of subject. Your mother wanted me to broach the subject."
"My mother. My mother asked you to speak for her."
Correk was too busy pulling a brochure out of the inside of his tunic.
"How many little pockets are in there? Is that magical or just great seamstresses?"
"Focus, Berens. This may even help you with finding a member of the Silver Griffins."
"Okay, now I'm listening. What have you got there?" She took the brochure from him. "Comicon. Of course you want to go to Comicon. Where did you get this?"
"Someone gave it to me when I was on South Congress with your mother. They thought we'd be interested. Don't make the joke. It's too obvious. You're better than that. I already said I'd try the jeans."
Leira looked at Correk and realized this was the most excited she'd seen him since he got shoved into her car. "Fine, we'll go. Although this is human beings dressed up as magical people. Super powers. I suppose that's kind of the same thing."
"You couldn't be more wrong. We know of these annual celebrations on Oriceran. It's a chance for the magical community cut off from Oriceran to be themselves out in public without raising suspicion."
"Kind of a fly your freak flag but in a crowd kind of thing."
"Half the time I swear you're not really speaking English."
"Don't poke me. I said we'll go. Buckle your seat belt."
"For the record, your mother did ask me to speak to you about it."
"Uh huh, and trolls fly. They don't, do they?"
CHAPTER EIGHT
Leira sat in Hagan's backyard at his old picnic table, the troll crawling through the flowers. They were still in perpetual bloom. There was a familiar pink box on the table between them.
"I'm surprised your little friend isn't over here gnawing his way through the cardboard." Hagan peeked inside the box, pulling out a cruller.
"I stuffed him full of them on the way over. Believe it or not, he can get full. Besides, I think he's missed being outdoors. Trolls live outdoors on Oriceran, and your garden has a magic spell on it. It must feel a little like home to him.
"How's your mom doing?"
"Weirdly fine as far as I can tell. It's only been a couple of days but she's calm, resolute. Ready to figure out how to save my grandmother."
"Sounds like you. Wait, what? Save your grandmother?" Hagan took another bite of his doughnut, chewing and talking. "She's alive? You found her? Way to bury the lead, Berens!"
"Ah, gah, some things never change. Chew, swallow, talk. In that order. We kind of found her in a way that only makes sense Oricerans’ are involved."
"What is she on the other world? That's a twist in the plot."
"Not exactly. Turns out there's a third option."
Hagan stood up suddenly, banging his legs on the table. The troll looked up from the flowers, yellow pollen smeared across the front of his face. "Motherfucker?"
"What are you like at home, Berens? That little recording device hasn't said anything that isn't blue." Hagan sat back down again. "Son of a bitch, I got glaze on my pants. I'll have to volunteer to do the laundry again so Rose doesn't see it. Third time this week!"
"I think Rose is on to you and has figured out a way to get you to help around the house."
A tiny "Son of a bitch" trilled out from underneath the pansies. Leira watched him roll on his back, doing dirt angels in the mulch.
"Thanks for that. He says whatever people say with gusto. I guess we're not the kind to yell sweet nothings."
"I like that about us. So, tell me. Where's your grandmother? What's this fucking third option?"
"Correk calls it the world in between. It's a kind of waystation, a netherworld. Not really here or there."
Hagan put his head in his hands. "Fuck me, that sounds godawful." He looked up. "What is in that kind of a place?"
"Nothing but beings. Can't even say just people." She shuddered even in the warm light pouring into the backyard thinking of the dark mass that had tried to pull her into the void. "It seems to suck in magical creatures of every kind. The living and the dead."
Hagan's eyes grew and his jaw dropped open. "So, is your grandmother living or dead?" Always like Hagan to get to the point. Leira relaxed. She liked it better when someone was direct with her. "I can't explain it but I can tell she's alive. It's like I can feel the energy and there's a difference."
"Well, when do we get her out?" Hagan clapped his hands together. "Come on, a weathered old human being is bound to be some help. I'm on board. All hands on deck."
Leira gave him her best dead fish look.
"You don't know how much I've missed that look. The mook they've saddled me with for a partner is so damn earnest. I tell him convoluted tall tales just to see how long it'll take him to catch on. I finally resorted to telling one in an English accent to clue him in and he still said nothing. I don't know, Berens."
"No one knows of anyone ever getting out. The living or the dead."
"Well, that's not gonna stop you! Have you sent in the troll?" He looked over his shoulder. "Hey, no eating the damn flowers!"
"Damn flowers," cooed the troll, gently holding the head of a yellow and purple pansy. He nibbled on the edges of the pansy, leaving most of it intact.
"You think Rose will notice?"
"Yes, but this time she can't blame you. I'm not sure what she'll blame but it won't be you."
"What's the game plan, Berens. You always have one." Hagan went back in the box, lifting the pink lid. The troll peeked out from under the flower resting on his head, looking up at the familiar box, trilling. Hagan pulled out an old dirty bastard covered in peanut butter, chocolate and crumbled Oreo cookies. "You introduced Correk to these things yet? He'd love them. Who wouldn't?"
The troll scampered across the lawn, carefully picking his way underneath the table, crawling up to the bench, keeping an eye on Hagan. He was doing his best to go unnoticed. He sat back in the shadows where the bench connected to the table, and waited, pressing his lips together. His eyes followed the doughnut in Hagan's hand.
"No, I've caused enough harm in that area already. My game plan is to figure out how to get a Gnome on Oriceran to cough up information. Apparently, they may literally hold the key but I'm going to have to ask a talking rat to help me."
Hagan stopped mid-bite, putting down the doughnut on a napkin. The troll watched through the cracks in the table as the doughnut was lowered onto the small white square of paper.
"Excuse you?" asked Hagan. "Fucking rats can talk? That won't give me nightmares. Like that movie, Ben, but worse. Oh geez."
The troll saw an opening and leapt for the edge of the table, digging in with his claws and throwing a leg over, rolling like a log till he was pressed up against the doughnut. He rolled his body against the chocolate, smearing it into his fur, until he was face first with the doughnut. He opened his mouth wide and bit down, wrapping his arms around a section of the deep-fried confection.
"Yum fuck," he said, his mouth full of doughnut.
"What the fuck?" Hagan grabbed the doughnut, lifting Yumfuck into the air with it. The troll quickly wrapped his legs around a piece of the doughnut, burying his face, the chocolate going up his nose. Hagan sputtered, "Son of a bitch," giving the old dirty bastard a series of fast little shakes like he was testing a thermometer. The troll hung in there.
"You really still want that one?" asked Leira, trying not to laugh.
"It's the principle of the thing!"
With every shake Yumfuck took another bite of the doughnut, swallowing as fast as he could, tunneling his way to the center, finally losing anything to hold onto with his arms till he was hanging upside down, his face covered in a mixture of pollen and chocolate.
"He must be in heaven right now." Leira wrinkled her nose. There
was a bright orange and chocolate smear on the troll, his green hair sticking out the top. "Don't let him choke."
"Yeah, I'm in control of this situation."
The troll swung back and forth a few times like he was on an edible trapeze holding on with his legs as Hagan gave a few more shakes. On the last shake, the troll bent forward, swinging high enough to grab onto another section, burrowing his way through more doughnut.
"I give up," said Hagan, putting it down on the napkin. "You're the old dirty bastard." Hagan watched the doughnut shimmy on the table as the troll worked his way back up from the bottom.
A muffled, "bastard" could be heard from under the doughnut.
"He is really picking up those two syllable words faster and faster," said Leira.
"You sound like a proud parent." Hagan shook his head. "Fine, I concede defeat," said Hagan, wiping his hands on a napkin. "Plenty to go around, I suppose." He watched the troll roll over the top of what was left of the doughnut, biting into an Oreo piece.
"Yumfuck!"
"How long do trolls live? That little swearing machine could be around longer than the two of us, swearing at the world with a smile. Never mind. Fuck, it's easy to lose focus these days. A swearing troll steals my doughnuts and eats a few magical flowers, a rat that can talk and will help you find the answers to getting your grandmother out of a purgatory that a Gnome on another planet may have the answers to but won't tell. Do I have all of that right?"
"Remarkably accurate. Goes to show what a natural detective you are. Even when it gets super weird you can still put all of the pieces together. Your mook of a partner is lucky to have you. Give him time. You'll get him to be at least halfway decent."
"I'll tell you, Berens, I don't know if I have it in me to train another one. You were easy! A natural. Came on like gangbusters. Even better, you didn't need to discuss feelings. You didn't have any! I just had to get out of the way or yell slow down a few times. This one! He asks questions and holds up his phone to record the answers! What the hell is that about?"
"Rose will hunt me down if you have a stroke out here. Take a breath, get a different doughnut. There's another cruller in there. Grab it quick."
"Really, you should be bringing doubles at this point. The tiny beast can eat as much as I can. I'm oddly impressed." He mopped his face with a napkin, smearing chocolate across his forehead.
"Normally, I'd let you keep that," said Leira, leaning across with a clean napkin, "but I owe you for letting the little guy finish off an old dirty bastard." She pointed at his forehead. "And it won't be the squad room that sees it, it'll be Rose."
"What? Oh, yeah, far more dangerous. You stay till Rose gets back?"
"I have to go meet my new partner."
"Oh, great. Well, I wish you better luck than I'm having. Magical or non-magical?"
"The human variety. You better hide that box," she said, stepping out of the bench.
"I have a refrigerator in the basement for deer meat. Rose is opposed to my hunting in the first place. Refuses to have anything to do with it. Little does she know about the real estate I save in there for moments like this. Keeps me going, you know."
"That's sad, Hagan. Raise the bar a little. Come on Yumfuck." Leira grabbed a few napkins, scooping up the troll with what remained of the doughnut.
"Most of what's left is sticking to him."
"Just how he likes it."
"Goddamn right!"
"Goddamn right!" chirped the troll, smiling up at Hagan, blinking, his eyelashes coated in chocolate.
"Swearing as a second language. You need an old towel or something to set him on in the car? The Mustang deserves better than this."
"I have one in there just in case. Besides, I've been through this one with him already. He'll lick it all off before we get home."
"Everywhere? That is one clever little furry dude. Take care of yourself, Berens. Can you fix the flowers again before you go?"
Leira let the energy travel up through her and closed her eyes, imagining the flowers as whole as they spread out their petals, the tiny bite marks disappearing.
"Damn, I miss that. Those were the days."
"It was a week, at best."
"A very good week."
***
"At some point, an office would be a good idea." Leira was standing in the same empty warehouse sitting at the same wobbly card table and folding chairs. General Anderson sat across from her, his hat once again neatly lined up with his phone.
Next to him sat a middle-aged man in a dark suit, staring stony-faced at Leira. Behind him were the general's aides.
"I try not to fix what isn't broken as a general rule. But you have a point. You are an unexpected bit of good fortune for us. I'm afraid we didn't anticipate having you on board. Moving swiftly when it comes to infrastructure is not our strong suit. There is the added challenge of creating something that is more secure than your average black site. It all presents a challenge. Take a seat. Meet your new partner, Agent Rolfe."
Leira took a seat, glancing over at the stoic figure next to the general, knitting her brows. "Is this going to be your usual mode? I suppose that could actually work for me. Silent type. I'll bet you don't eat that much, either. Doughnuts? I may miss that. You'll have to watch me eat a lot of the time. Then there's coffee."
The agent just stared at her.
"This will be like not having a partner at all." Leira leaned her elbows on the desk, propping her chin in her hands. "Has he at least been briefed?"
The general gave a small smile. "Agent Cohen told us what happened. He will be filling out paperwork for a month of Sundays. Agent Rolfe was one of the few still willing to be your partner. He has been told the basics. You may want to fill him in further. He comes highly recommended and is very decorated. Served in three tours. He has the highest level of clearance we've created so you can tell him anything. Calm under pressure."
"That's good. What exactly are the basics?" Leira sat back in the metal folding chair. "That things will get all magicky? She moved her head side to side, while doing Hagan's version of magic hands. Still nothing. "You're like a block of ice."
The general smiled, coughing into his hand to hide it. "Before we end this meeting, I have a couple of things for you." He held up his hand, giving a short wave without looking back at the aides. One of them jumped forward, laying a briefcase down on the table in front of the general. The general opened it and pulled out a gun and a badge.
"Your standard issue Glock 40 and your new badge. Take care of both. I trust you can handle a .40? Of course you can. Forget I asked that. There's also more paperwork, even for you. There's always paperwork even when you classify all of it, redact most of it, and won't let anyone see any of it." He stood, extending his hand. "Well, good to see you again, Agent Berens. Perhaps by the next time we meet there will be walls and a better desk than this old table." Agent Rolfe stood up, raising his eyebrows as he looked at Leira.
"Not the real friendly kind, are you? You have to melt the ice cube a little." Leira slid the badge into her pocket and picked up the gun, feeling the heft in her hand. Not bad.
"There's no open case in Austin right now. Why don't the two of you just go to lunch, get to know each other a little. Before the magicky shit hits the fan, which I'm sure it will." The general picked up his hat, sliding it under his arm.
Leira stood up but instantly felt lightheaded. This is new. She could feel something probing at the edges, circling her. Trying to draw on her energy. Her instincts kicked in and she steadied her stance, resting her hands on the table, letting the gun down easily. Not good to be holding a weapon if you're going to pass out. This isn't good.
"Agent Berens, are you alright?" The general sounded muffled, his voice echoing in her head. It took some effort for her to lift her head. She held out her arms to try and steady herself. Something shoved her in the middle of her back, making her stumble forward. Agent Rolfe's eyes grew larger and he took a step away from her.
/> Leira studied his face and slowly turned, doing her best not to topple over in her fog. Her detective instincts were serving her well. Making her slow down, gather information. She was under attack but from something magical.
As she turned she saw a familiar face, bobbing in the middle of an empty warehouse, reaching out her arms. It was the dead girl, Casey, reaching out again from the void. There was another rip in the world in between.
"You shouldn't be able to do this," said Leira.
The general stepped forward, locking his arm with Leira. Everyone else stayed back.
"We caught your killer," he shouted into the growing dark mist.
"That's not what's happening," shouted Leira. The loud hum was back. Think faster, Leira. Put these pieces together. She looked up into Casey's eyes. "You're being used, aren't you? You're not trying to contact me. That thing is. It's looking for new customers. You can't get away, can you?"
The mist started to grow, enveloping the dead girl. Leira hesitated. "I will find a way to help you."
A look of resolve came over Casey's face. She shook her head, no, hard and focused, pushing out a wall of energy knocking Leira and the general back a few feet into a pile on the ground. Casey let out a cry of "Don't try" that echoed through the empty warehouse.
"I could hear her!" Leira scrambled to her feet as the mist started to move into the warehouse. Agent Rolfe pulled his weapon, aiming it straight at Casey.
"This shit's real!" he yelled.
"Stop, we have no idea what would happen to a bullet fired into that place!"
It was too late. Rolfe fired off three shots aimed straight at Casey who shut her eyes but didn't flinch. "She's already dead!" yelled the general in anger.
The bullets hit something solid just short of Casey and ricocheted around the warehouse, puncturing the metal sides. One bullet grazed the arm of one of the General's aides but drew no blood.
"I'm sorry." Casey's voice came through again, just as loud, echoing inside the space.