A Little Night Magic (15 page)

“Amber!” I hollered again, and started running for the corner as the Barracuda swayed under the attack. I glanced back in time to see the blue-striped ten ball crash through his passenger side window, and even over the tragic muffler, I could hear him holler in pain as the car jerked dangerously toward CCB’s.

“Betty, call nine-one-one!” Betty darted inside, and I ran faster toward the corner. The Barracuda jumped the curb again, the metal screeching as it scraped against the concrete. Another pool ball shot out from the whirling swarm of smoke and crashed through the windshield, finally shattering it, and I watched in sickness as the ball cracked against Frankie’s forehead. He slumped over the steering wheel, his dead foot falling off the accelerator but unable to hit the brake. The car lurched straight for me, and I barely got out of the way before it shot past me and crashed into the redbrick wall of the vacant corner building that used to be Decker’s General Store. With the final collision, the gray smoke began to clear, and I heard the familiar
blurp-blurp-blurp
of the pool balls disappearing as I ran toward the car.

“Frankie!” He was slumped, bleeding, and definitely unconscious when I reached him. I stretched my hand through the busted driver’s side window and felt his neck for a pulse; it was there, and it was strong, probably still pounding from the adrenaline of the last few minutes. Given that he was definitely alive, in no more immediate danger, and I could already hear the distant whine of emergency sirens, I thought it best not to move him. I pulled my hand out and spun around, scanning the immediate vicinity for any sign of Amber, or Cain, but whoever had attacked Frankie seemed to have disappeared along with the gray smoke.

Which, honestly, was okay by me, because what the hell was I going to do about it, anyway?

“What happened?” Betty said as she caught up to me, then glanced at Frankie bleeding in the front seat. “Oh, crap.”

I pulled her aside, toward the vacant general store, so we’d be out of the way when the EMTs arrived. “Did you see it? The gray smoke?”

She stared at me. “I’m old, not blind. But who was throwing the pool balls?”

“They were magical,” I said. “The other night, Peach and I got attacked with magic walnuts. Same gray smoke, same disappearing projectiles.”

“Walnuts?” Betty seemed surprised for a moment, then gave a knowing nod. “Millie?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Her grandmother had walnut trees all over the property, and Millie got hit in the head by one when she was four. She had to go to the hospital and everything. She’s been traumatized by walnuts ever since.” She shook her head. “But Millie’s not a Magical. I would know. And, even if she was, why would she attack Frankie?”

“She didn’t,” I said. “This was Amber Dorsey.”

Betty shook her head. “Now, I
know
Amber Dorsey isn’t a Magical. Too angry. She would have gone all Carrie-at-the-prom way before now if she had the power.”

“I don’t think she has any.” I raised my voice to be heard over the approaching ambulance. “Have you ever heard of people taking conduits?”

Betty thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’ve heard of it. Never seen it. But who…?”

“Cain, that guy I told you about, from the alley at Happy Larry’s? He’s a powerful conjurer. With night magic.”

Her expression darkened. “That’s not good.”

The ambulance screeched to a halt and EMTs popped out of the back, rushing toward Frankie’s car. Right behind, a sheriff’s car pulled up, lights blazing, and Mickey Taylor hopped out, heading straight for us. Betty smiled and waved him over. I grabbed her arm and stepped in close.

“Wait, what do we tell him?” I asked, my voice low.

“As much of the truth as we can,” she said.

Mickey walked us into CCB’s, where Betty told him that we saw Frankie’s car swerving, and it looked like someone had pelted the car with pool balls, and that he might want to talk to Amber Dorsey about it, although we didn’t actually see her. Everything she said was absolutely true, and yet not at all supernatural. I mostly just nodded and kept my mouth shut. Mickey took it all down on his notepad, saying he’d call us if he needed any more information. After locking the door behind him, Betty walked back to where I was sitting at the counter and sat down next to me.

“That was really good,” I said. “You were incredible.”

“Not my first rodeo.” We were silent for a moment, until she sighed. “Conduits? You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure,” I said.

She nodded acceptance, her expression grim. “If this Cain is preying on people with scores to settle, then we’ve got serious trouble. You know how many people want to kill each other with pool balls and walnuts in this town?”

I sighed. “I’ll hunt around town, see if I can find Cain. Maybe I can … I don’t know. Talk to him.”

She gave me a dull look. “Oh. Good idea. Go search out the man who wants to kill you. That can’t end badly.”

“He doesn’t want to kill me,” I said. “He wants my magic. The fact that it’ll kill me is incidental. And besides, he’s night magic. I’ll just look for him during the day.”

“He can still knock you out and tie you up until it’s nighttime.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but she kind of had a point. He might not be able to do magical damage during the day, but he’d been strong and fast enough to pull me into that alley. I couldn’t afford to forget that there was basic human damage that could be done, too.

“Point taken. So what do we do?”

“Tonight, we sleep. You’ll stay on my couch. Tomorrow…” She sighed, watching me with dark eyes.

“What?”

“This Davina,” she said carefully. “Do you know where she’s staying?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“But you trust her? Are you sure?”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. “Yes. I’ve got no reason not to trust her. Right?”

“If you trust her, that’s enough for me.” Betty watched me for a moment, her eyes calculating something. “Can you bring her here to me tomorrow night? I’d like to talk to her. Compare notes, find out what she knows.”

I hesitated for a moment, not sure how I would find Davina, but somehow certain that she’d show if I needed her. “Yeah. Sure. I think that’s a good idea.”

Betty reached out and in an atypical show of physical affection, put her palm against my cheek. “You’re a good girl, Livvy. Don’t you worry. We’ll figure this all out.”

I smiled. She lowered her hand and started toward the side door that opened into the stairwell to her apartment. I followed, feeling like an obedient dog, grateful to be led.

“So, is this one of those life situations that calls for bad snack cakes?” I asked.

“I’d characterize this as more of a vodka-straight situation,” she said, closing the side door behind us, “but you make do with what you’ve got.”

*   *   *

I went home the next morning, let Gibson out of his shoebox so he could wander around my room—hell, ceramics need exercise, too, right?—and took a shower. It wasn’t until I’d dried off and changed that I realized Gibson was missing. I searched the second floor, then panicked at the stairs as I raced down them, trying to comfort myself that there was that strip of carpet down the middle of the hardwood to give him a soft(er) fall, but still.

“Gibson!” I hollered, hitting the first floor running. I heard a clunk coming from the living room and ran in to find him, bumping against the couch. I grabbed him and held him up, running my fingers over him to check for damage. Amazingly enough, he’d managed to tumble down the steps and waddle into the living room with only a little chunk taken out of his handle. Tail. Whatever. It twitched at me as I held him, and I touched the rough spot of bare white ceramic where the paint had chipped off.

“Poor baby,” I said, then wondered aloud, “Does it hurt?”

He didn’t seem to react at all when I touched the chipped spot, and I realized that what I had on my hands was a blind and likely deaf ceramic mug bunny with no pain sensitivity, and no sense of self-preservation as a result. If I didn’t figure out a way to keep him safe, I’d have a shattered Gibson on my hands. I searched the basement, found the huge cardboard box that they’d shipped my computer monitor in, and lined it with old towels. I set him in it and he toddled around, bouncing lightly off one side and then righting himself so he could bounce into the other.

I sat back on the couch, watching him wander happily through my handiwork, and my mind drifted to how the hell I was going to find Davina. She wasn’t staying with Grace and Addie, we’d figured out that much, but the fact is, if she’d been staying at any of the places in town, talk of her would have filtered into CCB’s by now; no one new came to town without everyone knowing about it. Yet both Davina and Cain had been here for over a week, and not a word was making the rounds about either of them. Wherever each of them was staying, it was either somewhere out of town, or in town with someone who didn’t talk.

My bet was out of town. Which, considering that Buffalo, Niagara Falls, and Erie, Pennsylvania, were all within an easy drive of Nodaway, meant it could be weeks before I’d find either of them, and I didn’t have weeks to kill.

There
had
to be a way to get a message to Davina. I closed my eyes and lay down on the couch, soothed by the muffled sounds of Gibson exploring his new space, and thought.

Then, it came to me.

Peach’s crane.

I reached over to the coffee table, grabbed the slightly crumpled orange crane she’d left the day before, inspected it, and decided there were crazier ideas than this one. I found a pencil under the couch and used it to jot “My house” on the underside of one wing, and “Tonight” on the other. I held it up to my face, staring it down and wondering what else it needed. I went through the house, out the back door to the patio by my mother’s garden of wildflowers, then closed my eyes and tried to work up the magic buzz. For a minute or so, I felt stupid and self-conscious, but then the energy started to build and I immersed myself in it, working up a decent flurry into my palms. I cupped the crane in my hands and concentrated on sending the magic into it. Then I released it and, much to my surprise, it flew gracefully out of my hands and flapped around me, its little body working as if an invisible origami-obsessed child was pulling it, the way the design intended.

“Cool.” I laughed, full of accomplishment and satisfaction. Maybe my magic wasn’t so useless after all. Of course, there was still part two to consider; I’d given it form, but who knew if I’d be able to give it function? I whistled for it to come close and it did.

“Good boy,” I said. “Now go find Davina.”

It fluttered around my head, bounced into my shoulder, and flapped back up to hover near my head.

“Okay, I should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.” I reached out and took it by its base. Its wings flapped carefully, not panicked, just moving. I held it in my hand and pooled my magic again, visualizing the thing locating Davina, wherever she was, and delivering the message. Then I opened my eyes and released it. It flapped upward into the calm, sunny day, and I watched as it disappeared around the corner.

“If you want to keep this whole thing secret,” Tobias said, as he emerged from the driveway at the side of my house, “then it may be a good idea to shoot off your magical paper airplanes from inside the house.”

I glanced at him. “It was a crane.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I take it all back.”

I turned to face him, watching him with my arms folded over my stomach as he crossed my backyard to meet me. “Hover much?”

He moved toward me, his eyes locked on mine. “I just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

“Spying on me?”

“Making sure you’re okay.”

“Potato, po-tah-to.” I sat down in one of the blue Adirondack chairs. Tobias took the other one. We were quiet for a long time, and then I said, “My mother used to come out here all the time.”

He was quiet for a minute, then he said, “It’s pretty.”

“Yeah. I don’t think she ever noticed the garden,” I said. “She just stared off into space, mostly.”

“Is there some subtext I’m missing here?” He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. I could see the strong muscles of his arms go taut as he did, the only outward sign that he wasn’t entirely relaxed.

“She would come out here, stare at the garden, but not look at it. She was missing my father, and my sister. I always thought he didn’t love her, or me, and she could never get over it. But it turns out he left
because
he loved her, and me. That’s what she couldn’t get over.”

Tobias was quiet for a bit, and then he said, “Sometimes leaving is the right thing to do.”

“And sometimes loving someone does more damage than not loving them.”

He nodded and leaned back. “Ah. Subtext.”

I let out a small laugh as a bubble of affection for him overrode my tension. Our eyes caught and held, and his face broke out into a smile. Just the sight of those overlapping front teeth made my heart skip, the arrhythmic beat accentuating the truth that I’d known for a long time.

I was in a lot of trouble with this guy.

“For the record,” I said, “I’m still mad at you.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“And I don’t like you spying on me.”

“Duly noted.”

“Not that that will stop you.”

“No, it won’t.”

“But you’re right,” I said. “I need help, and you might be able to help me.”

There was no hesitation. “What do you need?”

Looking directly at him hurt a bit, especially when I met his eyes, but there were bigger things at stake here. I needed help, and this was no time to be emotionally skittish.

“First, I need answers to some questions,” I said. “Are you a Magical?”

He nodded.

“Day or night?”

“Day.”

“What’s your power?”

He took a deep breath, let it out, then said, “I can freeze things.”

I thought about this for a bit, then said, “Like … what? ‘Wonder Twin powers activate, form of an ice bridge’?”

His discomfort was palpable, but I had to give him credit; he didn’t skirt anything. “Not freeze like cold-freeze. I can stop things from moving.” He glanced toward the oak in my yard. “If I wanted to, I could paralyze a whole squirrel. Or just one leg.” He glanced at me quickly, then nodded toward Mom’s garden. “I could stop those flowers from pulling water up from their roots. That kind of thing. If I can see it, I can stop it dead in its tracks.”