by Ward Parker
“We're here to donate our kidneys,” the woman explained. “Unwillingly. I answered an online ad for a housecleaner. When I showed up at the house, two guys threw me into an SUV and took me here.”
“I answered an ad for an arborist,” the man with the naked bellybutton said. “I didn’t know what an arborist was, though. I thought it said ‘arsonist.’ Anyway, turns out they didn’t really want either one.”
“It's the same with these other folks,” the woman gestured toward the five people against the wall. “They answered fake ads and ended up here.”
“How do you know they want your kidneys?” Missy asked.
“The doctor told us. I think he’s a doctor. He looks like one. He wears a white lab coat covered with blood stains. He asked us lots of health questions. Then, each day, he takes one of us into another room. We never see them again.”
So typical of her mother, Missy thought. Too impatient and immoral to do things the proper way, she had to illegally harvest kidneys from powerless people. Why did she need so many? The kidneys the “doctor” had removed must have been incompatible. Or maybe he just botched the procedure for removing them.
And it’s soon going to be my turn. I should have sounded more enthusiastic on the phone about giving her a kidney.
“How long have you guys been here?” Missy asked.
“Me and Jimbo have been here more than a week,” the Hispanic woman said. “The people back there arrived more recently. Some of them yesterday.”
“How often does the doctor show up?”
“Almost every day.”
“He brings a cooler,” Jimbo said. “At first I thought it was his lunch. Then I figured out what it was for.”
“They took away all your phones, right?”
Everyone nodded.
Missy had confidence her magick could help her break out of the building and free the other prisoners. But they were in the middle of nowhere, with no transportation. The bad guys could easily recapture them all as they wandered down the country roads in broad daylight.
“What time does the doctor usually come?” Missy asked.
Tires crunched the dirt parking lot outside. Two car doors opened and slammed.
Uh-oh.
Everyone in the room tensed and withdrew to the farthest, darkest corners, where they crouched, quivering.
Now I know what bait feels like when the giant hand reaches into the bucket for the next one headed to the hook.
A metal exterior door opened and closed in a distant part of the building. Then another door opened, sending a shaft of light into the room where the prisoners were.
“Hello, my little chickadees,” a man with an Eastern European accent said as he entered the room. He wore blue scrubs, which, thankfully, were not splattered with blood.
He was followed by a giant man, also in scrubs, with blond hair who dwarfed the big guy who captured me.
“Oh, I see we have a new guest,” the doctor said, appraising Missy. “And what blood type are you, my dear?”
Uh-oh.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I cannot wait to find out. But first, I have other matters to attend to.”
Missy breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed she wouldn’t be the next minnow plucked from the bait bucket. Then, she realized one of the others would go under the knife.
Were they given proper care after their kidney was removed? What, exactly, happened to each prisoner who was taken away from this room to never return?
“Marta?” The doctor shined a flashlight around the room until he caught the middle-aged Hispanic woman in its beam. “Oh, there you are. Please come with us.”
“No,” Marta said in a low voice filled with dread.
“It won’t hurt a bit, Marta. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”
The doctor nodded to the huge blond guy. The giant strode across the floor toward Marta. Instead of cowering against the wall, she stood and shook her fist at the mass of muscle headed toward her.
“You leave my kidneys alone,” the diminutive woman warned, though her brave facade was crumbling.
Jimbo stepped in front of Marta. “Wait,” he said to the blond man.
The giant threw a roundhouse punch into Jimbo’s jaw. Jimbo dropped to the floor.
Marta’s eyes widened in surprise as the giant collapsed on the floor, too. He began snoring loudly, his head resting on Jimbo’s gut as if it were a pillow.
The doctor’s clipboard clattered upon the concrete floor. He leaned backwards against the wall and slid down it until he lay crumpled in a heap.
Missy’s sleep spell worked as well as always.
“What happened?” Marta asked.
“They had heavy lunches and needed a little nap,” Missy said. “Search their pockets for the car keys and let’s get out of here.”
Missy knelt beside Jimbo, checked his pulse, and opened his eyelids to make sure his pupils weren’t dilated. He seemed fine and was already returning to consciousness.
Earlier, Missy had planned, and dreaded, using her magick to try to open the padlock outside the door she had been thrown through when she arrived here. She knew several unlocking spells but struggled with them all.
Fortunately, the inner door the doctor and his stooge had come through remained unlocked. It led to what used to be an office but was now set up as an improvised operating room with a dirty table. Missy shuddered at the thought of having her kidney removed here. An exterior door led to the rear of the packing building where a black pickup truck sat.
She and Marta searched the room, the empty desk drawers, and cabinets. Her cellphone wasn’t there, nor was anyone else’s.
Missy had a dilemma. Should she use the doctor’s phone, if she could unlock it, to call the police and let them handle it as the crime of kidnapping? What her mother had done involved no black magic. For once, this was a crime she had committed that could be prosecuted in a court of law.
But Missy didn’t have time to deal with all the police interviews and court appearances. She wanted to investigate a demon summoning. And prevent a vampire-dragon war.
“Marta, please drive me to the nearest bus station,” Missy said. “And then, return here and call the police.”
“I don’t know. Some of the others won’t want that. They don't have their papers.”
“Okay, then give those people rides home.”
“Will I get in trouble for driving a stolen truck?”
“I’ll make sure the two men stay asleep long enough for you to drop everyone off and return here. Then, please call the police, and report that you and Jimbo were abducted.”
Marta nodded. “Tell me how you did that,” she said.
“What?”
“Made them go to sleep.”
“Just a little trick I learned along the way.”
It turned out to be a good thing she hadn’t used her sleep spell when she was kidnapped. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to free these people.
Magick can be a force of good even when you don’t use it.
She rode the bus to San Marcos. Then, she took a cab from the bus station to the beach where she’d left her car. The sun had set, and the parking lot was nearly empty.
Thankfully, her car was still there. And her phone lay on the floor in front of the driver’s seat. One of the thugs who seized her must have tossed it there.
She made it to Bob’s surf shop before it closed. Bob was sitting at the desk in the back room with Florence perched on his shoulder. They glanced at her with curiosity, but not guilty expressions.
“Did you tell my mother that I was here?”
“No,” Bob said. “Like, why would I do that?”
“What about you?” Missy asked Florence with a stern glare.
The parrot squawked. “I don’t want anything to do with that hag.”
“Then, how would she know I was here? She even knew what part of the beach I was on.”
“Dude, you’re a smarter wi
tch than that. Obviously, she’s got, like, some sort of surveillance spell on you.”
“I checked myself carefully before I left home. I was clean of outside magic.”
“Maybe, she had a spell that was triggered when you came to San Marcos. Did you check yourself after you got here? Duh?”
“Um, no.”
Missy stepped aside to the far corner of the workshop. Clearing her mind, she recited the words that made her consciousness self-reflective, then scanned for foreign energies.
Sure enough, some unfamiliar magic was observing her.
While she was still in a semi-trance state, she assembled a warding spell, a variation of the protection spell. The warding worked specifically to keep magic, rather than physical objects, from penetrating a sphere created around her.
When she was finished, she felt lighter and freer.
“Okay,” she said, “problem solved.”
Florence made an exact imitation of human snickering. Or maybe it was the real thing.
“I apologize for the accusatory tone,” Missy said. “Being kidnapped makes me a little edgy.”
“Whoa,” Bob said. “What happened?”
Missy told the story.
“That woman sure wants a kidney,” Bob said.
“Ideally, one of mine. That’s why I wanted to know, for sure, if she killed my father.”
“And she tried to take away your ability to decide.”
“Stealing a kidney is the easiest way to get one for her, I guess. Only, the other kidneys must not have been compatible. Why didn’t she use the regular healthcare system like everyone else, instead of that quack doctor?”
“Dude, black magic is about breaking the rules. Every kind of rule: physics, morality, religion. And common sense.”
“I’m sure there must be a witch somewhere powerful enough to heal her through white magic,” Missy said. “Right?”
“Not in our Guild. Healing is great, and all, but you can only go so far before you cross the line, you know? Depends on how close to dying the patient is. If a magician tries to act like God, then they’re acting like Satan. Whoa, that was such a mind-blowing thing I just said!”
Missy called Matt and asked him to inquire about the kidnapping of the people at the orange-packing facility. He said there was no record of any case involving Ophelia Lawthorne, AKA Ruth Bent. There was a case involving a doctor and his assistant who kidnapped people to sell their kidneys on the black market. But there was no other defendant. Somehow Ophelia had managed to distance herself from her organ-harvesting scheme. She escaped with clean hands once again.
Missy would have to wait until the next day to look for Wendall. So, she called her cousin, Darla, who lived in San Marcos. She was one of several family members Missy didn’t know even existed until she learned about her birth parents and a world that had been kept secret from her. This was partly a decision made by her adoptive parents. It was also because Ophelia Lawthorne was such a scandal for the family that much of Missy’s family tree was nearly erased.
Darla’s mother was Ophelia’s sister. Their mother, Missy’s grandmother, was the matriarch of the Chesswick line of witches. They all practiced white magick, except for Ophelia, who embraced the darkness not long after she married Ted Lawthorne.
Ophelia’s descent into evil caused her to be banned from the Magic Guild, the city, and eventually, her family.
“You must stay at the Esperanza,” Darla said of the bed-and-breakfast inn she ran. “I have plenty of vacancies. And since you’re exploring the past, Mom will insist you come by for dinner.”
“But she had no warning,” Missy said.
“She always cooks enough for leftovers. She won’t mind at all.”
Missy picked up a bottle of wine and arrived at Sadie Chesswick’s Victorian home only a few minutes late. She’d met Darla and her family before, after rescuing Darla’s daughter, Sophie, who’d been sold to a clan of vampires by an addiction-recovery company. Sophie was there for dinner, as well.
“So, my sister has been in touch with you?” Sadie asked while she served dessert. Her head was surrounded by a nimbus of frizzy black hair, with a recent dye job, similar to Ophelia’s style. “Did she ever do the right thing and meet you in person?”
“I’ve met her in person, but she wasn’t doing the right thing. Unless that includes trying to kill me.”
Everyone’s mouth dropped open, except for Darla’s. She already knew the stories.
“Let’s just say my interests clashed with hers on a couple of occasions,” Missy said. “She did not appreciate me getting in the way.”
“And now, she wants one of Missy’s kidneys,” Darla said.
“Hmm. She was always the selfish one when we were children,” Sadie said. “The spoiled younger daughter.
“You would even consider giving that woman a kidney?” Darla asked.
“Daughters always want their mothers’ approval,” Missy said.
Everyone laughed.
“I want to know if she killed my father,” Missy said, staring intently at Sadie. She lowered her eyes.
Everyone stopped laughing.
“The authorities are the only ones who really believed it was a freak dishwasher accident,” Missy said. “Most in the magic community believe a demon did it.”
Sadie nodded.
“They claimed a demon-summoning went horribly wrong,” she said.
“But why would Ted, a successful white witch, summon a demon?” Missy asked. “Why not his wife, the black-magic sorceress? That’s what they do.”
“Your parents had already separated by then,” Sadie said. “Your mother was living in the Orlando area. To summon a demon, you need to be in the same location where you want the demon to appear.”
“So, she traveled back to San Marcos to do it,” Missy said.
Sadie shook her head. “The Magic Guild conducted an investigation and cleared her. She supposedly had an alibi that put her in Orlando at the time of death.”
“Do you trust the investigation?” Missy asked.
Sadie’s expression was pained. “I don’t now. Please understand it was very awkward for me having a sister who was Public Enemy Number One. We weren’t speaking at that point in our lives, but her evil put a stain on me. I became less active in the Guild. In magic. It had become uglier in my eyes.”
“That’s why it’s just a hobby for you now?” Darla asked. “Because you were treated poorly by the Guild?”
“I didn’t say I was treated poorly. I meant there was whispering behind my back. Warding spells cast when I was around. My sister revealed the dark side of magic. And she wasn’t the only one in the Guild to be sympathetic to black magic. Some people will do whatever it takes to have more power. So, that’s why I don’t trust the conclusions of the investigators. I don’t believe they were fully impartial.”
Missy thought about that as she chewed her pecan pie.
“Who from the Guild might know more—whom I can talk to and trust? Is Wendall trustworthy?”
“I always thought of him as a good, wise wizard,” Sadie said. “He’s friendly with Arch Mage Bob, who I’m not a fan of. But I would say Wendall is a good bet. And he can point you to other sources.”
After dessert, Missy had a cup of tea, knowing she should leave soon, lest she outstay her welcome. But she had one last question.
“What were they like, my mother and father?”
Sadie didn’t expect the question, but she smiled.
“When they married, they were young, creative, and idealistic. They were like artists, theater people, musicians, wanting to devote their lives to an art they were passionate about, but having to take odd jobs to pay the bills. You don’t go into magic to get rich. Well, not white magic, that is. I think financial pressure was what first turned my sister into the wrong path. And then, the power—she became addicted to it.”
“Was she jealous of my father?”
“Not at first, but yes, once his abilities grew
. He was very accomplished and attracted a following. Not an organized coven, but almost like groupies. Ophelia did not like that one bit. He grew much more powerful than her, and she discovered black magic gave her a faster path to such power.”
“And money,” Missy said. “She hires herself out to the highest bidder these days. It’s sad.”
Missy realized she had caused gloom to fall upon the evening.
“Sorry for being a party-pooper,” Missy said. “I guess that’s my special power.”
“I don’t know what went through my sister’s head when she left you and your father,” Sadie said. “But she had no choice about giving custody to Ted. The Magic Guild forbade her from bringing you when they banned her from the city and county. You can’t have a child in the same house as black magic.”
“I was in my crib in the other room when the demon killed my father.”
The heavy silence that followed resulted from her special power.
8
Witches per Square Mile
She spotted Wendall at the end of the pier, right after she paid her fee and passed through the turnstile. The lanky man with the wide-brimmed hat stood out clearly from all the dads and kids and fat guys without shirts. She marched past them, their coolers, and the cut bait. Anglers leaned over the railings, watching their lines in the water, observing where the seabirds were feeding, and, most of all, monitoring what their competitors on the pier were catching.
He immediately recognized her as she approached.
“Well, well, Ms. Mindle. A pleasure seeing you again,” Wendall said with a genuine grin.
“Hi, Wendall. I hope you’re well.”
“I have been. Doctor found a few pre-cancerous moles because I’m out in the sun too much. I removed them with a simple spell.”
“I’m glad. Our magic, white magick, is all about healing.”
“Something tells me you're about to draw a contrast with black magic. Is your mother up to no good again?”
“As always. But I’m here to ask you about what she was up to in the past. I’ve heard hints she may have been the one who summoned the demon who killed my father.”