Black Cat Crossing

by Fitz Molly

  "Sure! Let me box that right up for you!" Sabrina hopped down from the barstool and retrieved a small white box from below the counter. It looked to be where Luke stored all of the extra packaging materials. Sabrina popped open the box like a pro. I had a feeling it would only be a matter of time before the girls worked at the shop for real.

  "Thank you," I took the box from Sabrina. "Listen, the bookstore is having a Halloween party tonight. There's candy, costumes, spooky stories. Do you guys want to come? Your uncle said it was okay."

  The girls looked to one another, "Nah," they said at the same time.

  "We're having too much fun here," Beatrice added.

  “Are you sure? There’s lots of candy,” I said.

  Beatrice eyed all the candy cooling around them. “That’s okay. I think we’re covered.”

  “Yeah, totally,” Sabrina echoed the sentiment.

  "Okay, well if you change your mind, the party lasts until nine o'clock,” I said.

  "Okay, thanks, Angelica," Sabrina said.

  "You're welcome. Now can either one of you point me to the bookstore's order? It's candy apples and pumpkin truffles."

  It was Beatrice this time who hopped down and led me to a giant refrigerator. Inside, Misty's order was boxed up and ready to go. I could see the apples through the clear plastic lid before it fogged up from the change in temperature. When Misty said candy apples, she really meant apples covered in candy. I was expecting to see traditional red glazed apples, but these were above and beyond that. These ginormous apples were loaded with caramel and topped with candy bar pieces and drizzled with chocolate. I was definitely going to have to try one tonight.

  I said goodbye to the girls and reminded them again to come on down if they got bored, but by the looks of it, Luke didn't need to worry. The girls were having the time of their life making chocolates in his gourmet kitchen.

  * * *

  With my hands full, I left the candy shop and started back towards the bookstore. All around me, kids called out trick or treat as they skipped from shop to shop collecting their goodies. My phone rang in my pocket as I walked down the cobblestone path. I maneuvered the box of treats under my arm and retrieved my phone, forcing me to duck at the same time as something fluttered above me, dangerously close to my head. Are those bats? I asked myself. I looked up, and sure enough, they were. The animals flew off into the night, their wings reflecting off the moonlight along with something else. Could it be sequins? It appeared so with the unnatural way they glittered and sparkled against the darkened sky. I decided that would be crazy and shook away the prospect while answering my phone. It was Vance, my ex from a million years ago, now a friend and local defense attorney. He was supposed to meet up with us tonight at the bookstore.

  "Did you decide on a story yet?" I asked when our lines connected. Misty invited guests to read their own favorite scary story at the party. Last time we talked, Vance was leaning towards reading something by Poe but wasn't sold on it yet.

  "Yeah I did, but there's a problem."

  "Oh no, what happened? A new case?" Our bee-in-his britches sheriff and his equally abrasive daughter passed out plenty of citations to keep Vance busy morning, noon, and night.

  "No, but it is Halloween. I expect somebody will do something stupid and get arrested for it. But that's not the problem. There's a gargoyle statue blocking the front door."

  "Like it tipped over?" I side-stepped a group of trick-or-treaters headed my way and tried to keep up with the conversation.

  "No, like it's come to life and is growling at me from outside my office door."

  "What? The statue's come to life?" A deep growl rumbled in the background. It sent shivers up my spine. "Holy moly."

  "Tell me about it. I’ve got to figure out how to deal with this guy before he breaks through.”

  "Did you call the sheriff?" Maybe I shouldn't have been so abrupt at my criticism for local law enforcement. I mean, they weren't all bad, especially Deputy Jones. He was an officer on our side.

  "Not yet. I thought I could spell it first, but that’s not working. Magic ricochets off it.”

  I tried to think if I knew any spells that would help, but I hadn't read anything about stopping animated statues in any books. "You're sure it's a statue, right?"

  "Pretty sure. I think it belongs to the church across the street.”

  I thought of the church’s architecture and was pretty sure they had a gargoyle or two up top. "Okay, I'm en route to the bookstore to drop off treats to Misty and then I'll call you right back." There was a loud thumping noise on the other end of the line. "What was that?" I asked, trying to listen harder.

  "It’s on the roof. I gotta go.”

  Oh man. I put an extra pep in my step. I had no idea how I was going to help Vance, but I had to try.

  Chapter Three

  I power-walked the rest of the way to the bookstore, wondering what on earth was going on at Vance's office and how soon I could get there. First Aunt Thelma's cursed and now this? What else could go wrong?

  "Molly! Can you hear me?" Council member and town guardian, Michael McCormick's voice echoed across the parking lot. "Molly? Anyone?" The councilman continued to yell at the entrance of the hay maze. I was standing in front of the bookstore. A vampire was walking towards me, well, a witch in a vampire costume. He looked vaguely familiar, but it was hard to place him with the slicked back hair and cape.

  "Are you going to the party?" I asked the vampire, motioning to the bookstore.

  "Yes-th," the vampire replied, his large fangs making it hard for him to talk.

  "Can you give these to Misty? She's probably behind the register. Tell her Angelica will be back in a minute."

  "Sh-ure thing." The vampire took the box from my arms.

  "Thanks, I appreciate it." I tugged my cloak tighter around me and jogged across the parking lot to the maze.

  The sun had set entirely at this point, making the once innocent maze now appear foreboding. Hay was stacked at least four bales high, creating walls eight feet tall. Somewhere in the middle was the town’s three-tiered fountain, complete with a witch statue, but even that was blocked from sight. The surrounding pecan trees cast eerie shadows in the moonlight. A mist settled in the air, adding to the spooky atmosphere. Mr. McCormick paced before the entrance, repeatedly calling for his daughter, Molly, or anyone else who could hear him.

  "Is everything okay?" I asked.

  Mr. McCormick came to an abrupt stop. "No, it's not okay," the usually calm councilman was flushed with worry. "No one's come out of the maze. They're all lost in there."

  "Aren't they supposed to be for a little bit? It's a maze after all," I tried to be rational.

  "Fifteen people have walked in that maze, and not one of them has come out." Mr. McCormick pointed to the exit that was right next to him. "Molly went in to figure out what was going on twenty minutes ago and now she's lost too."

  "Did you try giving her cell phone a call?" I reached in my pocket for mine.

  "Oh, I don't carry one of those things on me."

  Thankfully I did, but I didn't know Molly's number and Mr. McCormick didn't know it off the top of his head either. The man was old school, preferring magic to technology. With my phone still out, I turned on the flashlight app and walked a couple steps into the maze. After the first turn, everything in front of me was pitch black and dead silent. The phone's beam wasn't strong enough to pierce the overwhelming darkness. I wasn't sure you could get me to walk further in that maze even if you paid me, that's how creeped out I was at that moment.

  "I told you this was a bad idea." Mayor Parrish's voice said from behind me.

  "What, celebrating Halloween?" I retorted as I walked back. After the fall festival, the city council decided to host a Halloween carnival, and I thought it had been a great idea (if I didn’t have to plan it.)

  "Well, no, but like this," Mayor Parrish motioned to the Halloween hijinks going on around us. If you were quiet, you could hear mo
re than one person ribbiting over at the Village Square, and this time, when the bats flew overhead, I took a solid look and they were in fact made out of sequins.

  "Okay, so minus a few croaking citizens and a couple wayward decorations, I think tonight has been a smashing success." But I knew what Mayor Parrish meant. She'd much prefer to sit around an electric gas fireplace with the cashmere throw draped around her shoulders, nibbling pumpkin truffles with zero kids around. That's the vision she had for Silverlake and she expected everyone to fall in line, which people were starting to until I moved back into town.

  "I'd expect this type of foolishness in Harrisville. Not Silverlake," the mayor continued, referencing the nearby non-magical city which was known for its small-town charm and spectacular Halloween festival. That was because their mayor was in fact a witch who knew how to make the holidays truly magical, and he took advantage of that fact.

  "One would think we could learn a thing or two from our mortal neighbors," I replied coolly.

  Mayor Parrish actually snorted her response before walking off. I turned away from her backside and looked down the darkened corridor once more, hoping someone would make an appearance, but they didn't.

  Okay, change in plans, I thought. "I have to lend Vance a hand and then we'll come back and figure out what's going on here. Hopefully, the maze is just a bit trickier than people expected and everyone will start filing out soon. But, in the meantime, don't let anyone else enter."

  "Good idea," Mr. McCormick said. I would have given the councilman my cell phone number and asked him to call me with news if he had a phone to call me on.

  "I'll be back as soon as I can." I turned on my heel and was planning on popping in at the bookstore to update Misty before driving around the lake to help Vance when my text message went off. Hoping it was Vance, I took my phone out of my pocket and saw an SOS text message from Aunt Thelma. That message was immediately followed by another one telling me to meet her at the tea shop. A mix of dread and panic washed over me as I pocketed my phone and ran back across the parking lot and through the village shops to Clemmie's.

  * * *

  I got to Clemmie's in record time and saw utter chaos through the shop's front window. Bright purple pixies were flying about her tea shop, throwing loose-leaf tea around like confetti. Electric blue flashes shot out from Clemmie's wand as she attempted to freeze the pixies with poor success. Clemmie's wayward spells caused just as much destruction as the pixies, as icicles hung down from the ceiling.

  Aunt Thelma was there too, but apparently, she was still croaking as she ditched the wand and ran around trying to catch the pixies with her bare hands--an impossible feat. The palm-sized fairies with their big round eyes, pointed ears, and oversized wings, were devilishly fast. From outside the window, I heard their childlike laughter as they destroyed Clemmie's tea shop with aplomb. The outside shop sign had been switched to closed, but the door was unlocked. I ran in, shielding my face and ducked in the nick of time. Two of the pixies had teamed up and thrown a ceramic mug my way. The cup hit the wall and broke into pieces. The three of us took cover behind the checkout counter.

  "Where did they come from?" I said, peeking out from the countertop. The pixies had discovered how to operate the ceiling fan and were riding it like a merry-go-round.

  "I don't know. Someone let them in the back," Clemmie replied.

  "That's horrible," I said. One of the pixies flew off from the ceiling fan and hit the front window with a thud. The other pixies giggled--the mischievous little buggers.

  "If I find out who is responsible, heaven help me," Clemmie balled her hands into fists.

  "RIBBIT," Aunt Thelma agreed.

  The icicles were rapidly melting, leaving little pools of water on Clemmie's wood floors. Part of me was tempted to transform into a cat and chase the pixies out of the shop, but then they'd still be flying around Village Square. What if they found their way to the bookstore? Or the bakery? Or any of the other shops? I shuddered to imagine the food fight these guys could cause at the bistro or what they would do to the florist.

  "We have to catch them," I said, coming to the only responsible conclusion.

  "That's what we're trying to do!" Clemmie replied at the same time another mug crashed to the floor. "But they're too fast."

  Too fast, huh? There had to be a spell for that, I thought. And there was, "That's it!" I remembered a spell from one of the charm books at the bookstore. I brandished my wand with more confidence than I felt, took a deep breath, and remind myself to believe in the magic and said, "Argos!"

  Instantly, it was as if someone had drenched the pixies in molasses. They moved at a snail pace. Even their blinking was delayed, and their wings lazily moved up and down.

  "A slow-motion spell, smart thinking," Clemmie said

  "PLUNK," said Aunt Thelma. I think it was a compliment.

  "Thanks." The spell was recommended for dogs that had gotten off their leash or objects that had fallen so you could catch them before they broke, but it turned out to work great on pixies. "Quick, do you have a box?" I asked Clemmie.

  "Yes, ma'am." Clemmie stood up and power walked to her storage room. She came back a moment later with a large square box that was the perfect size. I used a pair of scissors from under the counter to poke air holes in the box and together, we worked to round the pixies up.

  "Not so fast now, are you?" Clemmie said while standing on a chair and fetching the remaining pixies off the ceiling fan. The pixies looked on in disbelief as she caught them with ease.

  "What a mess," Clemmie eyed her shop once the last pixie was secured. A mixture of tea leaves, water, and broken ceramics littered the floor. Clemmie's shop was part teahouse and part gift shop. The quaint space was often rented out for bridal and baby showers, and it was also a great place to stop and put together a get-well gift. But right now, it was just a disaster.

  "Why don't you guys start picking up. I'll go to the pet shop and see if they know where these guys came from." Seeing the shop specialized in magical creatures, they might very well know. Worst case scenario, I could buy a more suitable enclosure to hold the pixies until we could release them back in the forest.

  Chapter Four

  It's not that I had forgotten about Vance, or Mr. McCormick over at the hay maze, or Misty's party at the bookstore, it's just that I was running from one fire to another. With a box full of pixies, I hightailed it to the pet store to see if they had any idea where Clemmie's mischievous visitors came from. The Village Square was busier than I had ever seen it before. Sidewalks were clogged with children running amok, collecting as much candy as possible in the couple hours trick-or-treating lasted. I tried to ignore the chorus of frog sounds that punctuated the nighttime air and were not produced by native amphibians, which believe me, we had plenty.

  Inside, the pet shop was relatively calm compared to the chaos going on outside.

  "Hey guys," I said to the two teenage boys who were working the front counter. They both had their cell phones out and were engrossed in a videogame, oblivious to the real world. "You didn't, by chance, sell a bunch of pixies tonight, did you?"

  "Pixies? What kind?" The first teenager barely acknowledged me from his cell phone. "Oh man, did you see that dragon?" he asked his co-worker before I could reply.

  "Was it a bat dragon?" The second teenager looked over at his coworker's phone.

  "Yeah, man. Wonder what it'll take for him to trade it."

  "Offer him your neon kangaroo."

  "No way, bro. That's a legendary." The two continued on with their gaming talk, forgetting or not caring that I was there.

  "What kind?" I repeated, bringing the conversation back on topic. "Um, the purple kind?" I had no idea. I knew there were different species, but I wasn't any good at identifying them.

  "North Atlantic pixies? Cool. Is that what's in the box?" The second teenager asked, putting his phone down.

  "It is, but I wouldn't –" the boy reached for the box and opened it b
efore I could complete my warning. My slow-motion spell had worn off and the pixies zoomed out of the box and took off around the store. Out front, a skeleton walked past the window, and it wasn't a person in a costume. "Tell me that's a decoration," I said aloud to myself. I was pretty sure that it was, just like the bats. I wondered if this is what it felt like living in the Twilight Zone.

  I closed my eyes and took a calming breath. At this point, I shouldn't have been surprised by anything. I was about to take out my wand and repeat the slow-motion spell when the pet store workers handled things in their own way. The first teenager nonchalantly walked over to an empty birdcage that was as tall as he was and twice as wide and opened it up while the second worker disappeared to the back room for a minute and returned with a bowl full of fresh fruit. The minute the dish was in the center of the cage, both boys whistled for the pixies and they zipped right over and into the cage, their little purple faces happily devouring bits of mango and ripe, red cherries. The boys made it look so easy. I was convinced this wasn't the first time they caught a batch of pixies.

  "That's impressive," I said. Suddenly, something small and wet hit me on the side of my face and rolled to the floor. It was a cherry pit. I looked over to the cage where a pixie was pointing and laughing at me. "Charming." Sarcasm was heavy in my voice.

  "They're pretty awesome, aren't they?" the first teenage boy asked, misinterpreting my comment.

  "Where did you say you found them at?" the second teenager asked me.

  "Sit For A Spell. Somebody let them loose in the tea shop. They did a fine job destroying everything they could get their hands on."

  "Yeah, they'll do that. That's why we don't carry them here. They're not domesticated like a lot of the other pixies. These guys don't want to be your friend," the first teenager said.