CONTENTS

Oriceran

Dedication

Legal

Oriceran US Map

Oriceran Map

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Author Notes - Flint

Author Notes - Martha

Publisher Notes - Michael

Social Links

Martha Carr Series List

Other LMBPN Books

The Midwest Witch

Midwest Magic Chronicles Book 1

By Flint Maxwell and Martha Carr

A part of

The Revelations of Oriceran Universe

Written and Created

by Michael Anderle & Martha Carr

The Oriceran Universe

(and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are

Copyright (c) 2017 by Martha Carr and LMPBN Publishing.

DEDICATION

From Flint

This is for Lola and Louis, two of my canine companions, who

constantly have to see me writing all day in my underwear.

But most importantly, this one is for the readers.”

From Martha

To everyone who still believes in magic and all the possibilities that holds.

To all the readers who make this entire ride so much fun.

And to all the dreamers just like me who create wonder, big and small, every day.

The Midwest Witch Team

JIT Beta Readers

Joshua Ahles

Micky Cocker

Kelly ODonnell

Keith Verret

Kimberly Boyer

Micky Cocker

Larry Omans

If we missed anyone, please let us know!

Editor

Jen McDonnell

THE MIDWEST WITCH (this book) is a work of fiction.

All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

This book Copyright © 2017  Flint Maxwell and Martha Carr

Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact info@kurtherianbooks.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

LMBPN Publishing

PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

Las Vegas, NV 89109

First US edition, September 2017

The Oriceran (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2017 by Martha Carr and LMPBN Publishing.

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CHAPTER ONE

Today was her nineteenth birthday, but Maria Apple didn’t feel that old. No, whenever her grandfather sang to her in his weird, made-up language, she felt a lot younger than nineteen.

Gramps came out to the back porch where Maria stood with her eyes covered.

“Keep ‘em closed, doll!” he wheezed.

Maria allowed herself to peek through her laced fingers. Her grandpa, an ancient and delightfully kooky man, leaned into the kitchen door and grabbed a gift-wrapped box. He also wore a bright red party hat, and tied around his belt loop, one red and one blue, were balloons.

“No peeking!” he shouted.

Maria rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t see if I was, Gramps.”

“Oh, I see more than you think I see, Maria!”

He stood in front of her, the odd scents she would always associate with her grandfather drifting off of him — old spices, the woods, fresh-cut grass; smells not meant to be clinging to a person whose favorite pastime was sitting in his comfy recliner and watching silly soap operas.

“All right,” Gramps said, “I think you’re really going to like this one.”

Maria thought she probably wouldn’t. Grandpa’s gifts were always odd. She guessed this was normal for an odd person. For her sweet sixteenth, she got a stuffed goose with glassy-black eyes. No keys to a new ride. Nope. A stuffed goose. She had hoped for Gramps to gift her his Pontiac Firebird that sat covered in the garage. Gramps was too old to really drive it anymore, without risk. Still, that didn’t happen. Instead she got the stuffed goose—which was nice in its own way. She kept it in her room, usually covered by an old t-shirt. Sometimes it seemed like it was watching her. Now, she expected weird gifts; had even grown to appreciate them.

“Okay, open ‘em!” Gramps said, smiling. Maria thought he was just so adorable when he smiled. Her heart swelled with love at the sight of him standing in front of her, holding a box wrapped in newspaper, the party hat on top of his head, and the balloons swaying in the early morning Ohio breeze.

“Gramps, you shouldn’t have,” Maria said. She studied the package. It was about the size of a Pop Tart box lying on its side. Yesterday’s local section’s headline lined the outside.

NEW ICE CREAM PARLOR DOES DELICIOUS BUSINESS

“Quiet, you! You may be nineteen, but you’ll always be my little girl, Maria.” He smiled again, showing those pink gums and perfect dentures. “Yes, you’ll always be my little girl or my name ain’t Ferod!”

“Uh…it’s not, Gramps. Your name is Ignatius.”

“Right! Right! Or my name ain’t Ignatius Apple.”

Maria smiled. Old age, she thought, that’s all it is. Old age and confusion.

“Open it!”

Maria sighed, bracing herself. Please don’t be a stuffed goose…or anything dead…or anything stuffed, for that matter.

A smell hit her. It was the smell of strange worlds and dust. It caused her nose to wrinkle. For some reason, she thought of planets with two suns and three moons, planets full of all types of creatures and critters, and of buildings invisible to the naked eye but as real as the very porch she stood on. She unwrapped the newspaper, letting it fall to the wooden planks.

Her eyes got big. “Whoa!” she said.

“WUEEEEE is right!” Gramps said.

Maria ignored this. Gramps seemed to enjoy mixing up ways to show he was excited.

“This is…this is actually really great,” Maria said.

In her hand, she held a small music box. It was made of a rich wood that smelled of summertime. It was trimmed in gold and on top of the box, etched into the wood, were looming mountains, overlooking a battlefield full of soldiers holding weapons and shooting flames out from their hands. It was quite elaborate.

“I knew you’d like it,” Gramps said. “Go on, open the lid.”

Maria did, and the weird smell hit her in full force. She turned her head and coughed.

“Ah, the smell of home,” Gramps said. Then he cocked his head and went, “Hmm. Stupid thing!”

“What—” Maria started to say, but her grandpa had swung a wrinkled hand against the side of the box, almost knocking it out of Maria’s grip.

Music started to play. Not the normal type of music box music, either. It was high-pitched and undulating, almost tribal, but to Maria…it was beautiful. Her eyes teared up, and she quickly swiped a hand over them, hoping her grandpa didn’t see. She didn’t cry in front of people. She didn’t believe in that.

“Damn dust,” she said.

Gramps hadn’t noticed. He stood there in front of her, rocking on his heels, humming along with the music, eyes half-lidded.

“Hey!” Maria shouted. “I’ve heard this before, haven’t I?”

She had. Almost anytime Grandpa Ignatius took a shower, he would not sing The Beatles or Elvis, or even the most recent pop hits, like men of his age might usually do. He would sing the very song playing from the music box.

“Gramps, did you — did you make this?” Maria asked.

He opened his eyes, that soft, winning smile on his face. He looked younger all of sudden, youthful. He pointed to the rotating woman inside of the music box. She was lithe, beautiful, and carved out of a shining metal. “Yes, yes, in a way I did make this, Maria.”

“It’s stunning. The best gift I’ve ever gotten,” Maria said. She set the box down as it played its strange songs, and crossed the porch to hug her grandfather. His body went rigid. Maria never hugged anyone. Not unless it was her Bloodhound, Sherlock. Once the initial shock passed, Gramps hugged her back.

“Happy birthday, dear,” he said and kissed her on one wet cheek. They parted. “How do you feel?” he asked.

Maria was smiling. “I feel great. You know, except for having to go into work on my birthday, and all that—on a Saturday no less.”

“I mean in here,” Gramps said, patting his plaid shirt where his heart was.

“I feel good, Gramps,” Maria said, eyeing him suspiciously.

He reached out and put the back of his hand on Maria’s forehead.

“Cut it out!” Maria said, laughing.

Again, his odd behavior was normal. Maria wasn’t surprised.

“You sure you don’t feel…different?” Gramps asked.

Maria arched an eyebrow. “Are you feeling all right, Gramps? You gonna last the day without me?”

The serious look on her grandfather’s face melted. He smiled again. “Yes, I’ll be quite all right, Maria.”

From the front driveway, the sound of tires crunching over gravel filled the air. Sherlock barked madly in the living room at the noise.

“Ooh, Claire’s here!” Maria said. “Gotta get ready for work.”

Maria rushed toward the back door, holding the music box. Ignatius watched, feeling the hope deflate from his chest. He felt tired; more tired than usual.

He sat down on one of the porch chairs, the balloons hitting his head and the railing as he did so.

Maria, Maria, Maria, he thought, why aren’t you like your mother? Where is the magic? How can you save them without the magic?

At eighteen, Maria was supposed to have gained her powers. When that didn’t happen, Ignatius thought she was just a late-bloomer. He’d known many late-bloomers on Oriceran. But the months passed on and on until it was a year later. The music box, her mother’s music box, was supposed to be a last resort; a catalyst to Maria’s magical abilities.

But it didn’t seem to be, and now, for Ignatius and a lost tribe of people somewhere in the world in between, all hope seemed to be lost.

***

Maria set the music box on her dresser, directly across from her bed. Her room was done up in pink—pink carpet, pink wallpaper, pink vanity. Back when she was younger, her grandfather let her pick out the style of her room. She regretted it now.

Claire, a girl Maria had gone to high school with, came in behind her.

“Happy birthday, Maria!”

“Oh, please don’t start.”

“What?”

“Singing,” Maria answered.

“Happy birthday to youuuu…happy birthday to you…” Claire sang.

“No!” Maria slipped out of her bedroom and into the bathroom. Her work shirt hung on the towel rack. Embroidered on it in white letters was POPCORN PALACE, POPPIN’ GOOD TIME! The sight of it almost made her ill. Not to mention she was already feeling a bit…off, now that she thought about it.

“Okay, okay,” Claire said from the other room. “I’ll save the singing for putt-putt tonight.”

Maria brushed her wild brown hair out of her face and looked in the mirror. She had bags under her eyes. Sleep wasn’t the best lately. She’d been having nightmares, terrible dreams of death and blood and war—but when she woke (usually clutching the covers to her face and plastered in her own sticky sweat), she could never remember the dreams. Probably for the better.

“Ah, it’s only an eight-hour shift. You can do it, Maria. You can!” she whispered at herself in the mirror. She had already brushed her teeth that morning, but she reached for her toothbrush and brushed them again, and then gargled with Listerine. There was a chance she might run into Joe. She didn’t want bad breath if she ran into him.

“This what your grandpa got you?” Claire asked. She stood by the dresser and ran a finger over the music box. “It’s…cool?” She said it more like a question.

“Yeah, it’s very cool. Another whacky gift from my whacky grandfather.”

“Your life is very strange,” Claire said.

“Well, at least I get to go to work like a normal person today…on their birthday.”

“Hey, it’s not all that bad,” Claire said. “You don’t have to walk.”

Maria smiled. “Thanks, Claire.”

“Anything for the birthday girl.” They walked out of Maria’s bedroom and down the steps. Claire started to sing again. “Happpppyyy birthdaaaaay, dear Mariaaaa!”

***

The downstairs smelled like old people; even Maria knew that. Gramps hardly ever left the living room, unless it was to go to the new ice cream shop on Main Street. It seemed like all the senior citizens liked to chill there—pun intended.

A giant television took up one wall of the living room; a recliner, which was all beat-up and a faded denim color, sat in front of it. Gramps was posted on the arm of the chair.

“Oh, Maria?” Gramps called after her.

“Hi, Mister Apple,” Claire said, not looking in his eyes. She’d known Maria and her grandpa for years, but had never stopped feeling intimidated by him, for some reason.

“Hullo, Claire! If you want to sing to Maria, you should let me help.”

Maria’s heart dropped. She rushed across the living room, kicking empty pill bottles and packaged catheters out of the way. “No, Gramps!”

It was too late.

Gramps stood and burst into a song in that made-up language of his, the language from his fabled world of Oreoland or Oricerean-section, or something like that. It was a high, melodic sound, not unpleasant to the ears, but too embarrassing to be shared with the outside world.

Maria turned, her face reddening, and saw Claire trying to hold back laughter.

Grandpa finished in a great crescendo of clashing notes and seemingly alien sounds, then bowed. “See, that’s how you sing a proper happy birthday song.”

Claire giggled and clapped her hands. “Do you mind doing it again so I can put it up on Instagram? All of Maria’s friends will love it!”

“No,” Maria said, frowning. “God, no!”

“What’s an Instagram? It sounds delicious!” Gramps said.

“Ah, it can be,” Claire said, humoring the old man.

“Come on, we’re both gonna be late for work,” Maria said. She leaned over and kissed her grandpa’s cheek. “Thank you for the gift. I love it. Try not to get into any trouble while I’m gone, and please keep an eye on Sherlock.”

Gramps smiled. “Don’t worry.”

The Bloodhound, who’d been asleep on his bed, now padded down the steps, his cheeks droopy, his ears perked up. Maria couldn’t forget about him. She bent down and ruffled the fur on the back of his neck. “Be a good boy, Sherlock. I’ll be back later tonight.”

Sherlock barked, sitting and wagging his tail. Drool hung from his droopy lips. He still looked half-asleep, his eyes red and barely open—common features of a Bloodhound. An older Bloodhound, at that.

Claire went out the door, still giggling, typing something on her iPhone. Probably a tweet or an Instagram selfie. Maria rolled her eyes.

“Oh, Maria?” Gramps called again as she was halfway out the door, holding Sherlock back with one foot (Sherlock loved car rides).

“Yeah, Gramps?”

“Are you sure you don’t feel any different?”

“I’m sure. Bye, Gramps!”

She left, but as she went down the front steps, hearing Sherlock scrabbling against the wooden door, and fighting the sadness of leaving her best friend behind, she realized she did feel a little different. Stranger and stronger.

CHAPTER TWO

Claire sat in the car, a 2009 blue Kia Rio, blasting some pop station that Maria was trying to tune out as she approached. She dug the classic rock stations around Akron — 97.5, 98.5, even 100.7, when they weren’t broadcasting Indians’ or Cavs’ games; but, Claire’s car, her rules. Maria learned the hard way to never touch the stereo – that usually meant Claire would sing the lyrics of whatever song Maria had chosen intentionally off-key, just to be annoying . So Maria learned to just block it out and  listen to the music in her head, like her Gramps did.

As Maria opened the car door, she saw a cake on the front seat. It was small with vanilla frosting. Written on it in cursive pink and blue letters was, ‘Happy Birthday, Maria!’

Maria smiled and felt her heart swell again. As annoying and girly as Claire could be sometimes, she was still a sweetheart and probably Maria’s closest human friend.

Claire put a candle in the icing and lit it with a match. “Blow it out and make a wish,” she said.

Maria took in a big breath.

“But not until you let me sing to you!” Claire said, cupping her hand over the flame.

“Ugh, fine.”

“Happy birthday to youuuuu,” Claire began. She finished the song and even added an extra couple lines at the end—“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, you look like a monkey…and you smell like one, too!”

The two girls laughed together. Maria felt better. It was nice to have someone else who cared about her besides Gramps and her Bloodhound, who sometimes licked his downstairs area a little too loudly in the dead silence of night, and really only cared about food. It was nice to have a tribe.

They ate cake together while Claire drove them to Rolling Hill Mall, right on the border of Cuyahoga Falls and Akron, Ohio.

“So what happens if you see Joe today? You gonna ask him for a birthday kiss?” Claire said.

“Cut it out.”

Claire made kissing noises, smacking her lips loud enough to drown out Pitbull on the radio. Thank God.

“Maybe you could even sing him a song in your grandpa’s made up, fantasy language. Joe would love that!”

“I’m this close to punching you,” Maria said.

“Not very ladylike.”

Neither is the smeared blue icing on your upper lip, Maria thought. That was what friends were for, right? But she decided not to. It would make for an interesting shift at Sephora, the makeup place across from the Popcorn Palace where Claire worked.

“Here,” Claire said, pointing to the glovebox. “There’s a card in there for you.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

“But I did. Open it up.”

Inside the glovebox was one of those grocery store-bought birthday cards. It had a monkey hanging from a tree, and it read, “I know it’s your birthday…” on the front, and “But you’re never too old to monkey around!” on the inside.

“Cute,” Maria said. Also inside the card was a gift certificate to Sephora. “You know I don’t wear makeup. I’m a natural beauty.” She winked at Claire.

Claire laughed. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“No, I think it has something to do with the employee discount.”

“Could be.”

“Oh well, at least it’s a normal gift. I don’t think I could take another music box that belts out gibberish,” Maria said. She leaned over and hugged Claire as Claire parked the Kia into the employee-only section of Rolling Hill’s parking lot.

“Geesh, if I knew you were gonna get all sappy on me, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

“You’re so sweet, Claire,” Maria said. She got out of the car and into the baking heat of another Ohio summer morning. “Let’s go. Time to kick today’s ass.”

***

Maria had forgotten she was to work with Ted today. Ted was the manager of the Popcorn Palace, and the mall’s very own dictator. He was in his forties, with a stomach that hung over his waistband. His face always seemed sweaty. A few of the security guards—Joe included—called him Little Hitler behind his back.

He was an unpleasant man, and Maria hated working with him—especially in the morning.

This morning, the hours were slow. Maria and Ted found themselves standing around, forcing awkward small talk. Around noon, the lunch crowd came in, and business, for lack of a better term, popped. Too much, in fact.

They made the previous year’s total sales for that day in a mere hour and a half. The back of Maria’s neck was sweaty, and her feet hurt like crazy.

Ted barked orders at her. She filled them.

An old woman with a flowery purse as big as her torso came up and ordered a medium caramel popcorn. "All right, ma'am," Maria said, "that'll be six dollars, please – " But Ted brushed past Maria, rushing to take the lady’s money. The woman gave him a ten dollar bill with a shaking, arthritic hand.

Maria watched him closely.

“All right, thank you, ma’am,” Ted said after the woman paid. The line at the Popcorn Palace had thinned. The lunch rush was over. Maria stood by the register and held out her hand for the money. She sometimes rang the orders out while Ted, or whomever she was working with, filled the bags of popcorn. It was easier that way. Except, Ted didn’t hand her the money. He went to the cash register and rang it out himself.

The lady stood at the counter, looking on in confusion. Maria felt bad for her. Suddenly, she never wanted to get old, never wanted to have to sing songs in made-up languages, or limp around the mall with arthritis-riddled knees.

“You’re all set, ma’am. Have a nice day!” Ted said, punching the order into the touch screen register.

“Thank you,” the old lady replied somewhat hesitantly. She turned and waddled away with her popcorn sticking out of her purse.

Maria scowled. “Uh, Ted?”

“What?”

“You totally ripped that old lady off.”

“What?” He sounded surprised.

“She gave you ten bucks and she only got a medium.”

Ted looked down at the bill, then up at Maria. He knew he’d been caught. The only way to get out of the situation was to lie about it.

“Oh, my mistake. Thought she gave me—”

“What, a six-dollar bill? They don’t make those, Ted. You know that, and I know that.” She leaned over Ted, bumping him out of the way, and took four singles from the register. A medium bag of caramel corn was six bucks. “For all you know, that old woman could be on a budget, and you just took her bus fare and pocketed it.”

“Don’t lecture me, Maria. It was an honest mistake.”

“Yeah, and pigs fly.”

She closed the register and gave Ted her best evil eye. It felt good to stand up to her boss, even though the possibility of losing her job was in the back of her mind. She left the kiosk and followed the old lady. Luckily she hadn’t gotten very far—only to the water fountain in the middle of the mall, between a JCPenney and the entrance to the food court.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Maria ventured when she got close.

The old lady turned around. She smiled once she recognized Maria’s uniform.

“You forgot your change,” Maria said. “Four dollars.” She handed it to the woman, who looked grateful.

“I thought I was due change, but that man…he just seemed so mean.”

“Between you and me, he is.” Maria gave her a wink.

“Here, young lady,” the old woman said. “For being honest.” She gave Maria two dollars. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

“No, I can’t accept that. Doing the right thing is just how I was raised.”

“Then you were raised very well, indeed.”

Maria pictured her grandpa and grinned. “Yes, yes, I was.”

“Well, thank you, dear. I’ll make sure to come back and get some popcorn when Pete and I finish this bag. Tonight’s movie night!” There was honest excitement on her face.

“Enjoy it. I’ll see you next time,” Maria said.

When she got back to the kiosk, Ted was frowning, and his arms were crossed over his flabby chest.

“You better watch yourself, Apple. I can fire you, you know.”

Maria nodded.

“Let that be a warning. For now, you’re on popping duty.”

“Ugh, c’mon, it’s my birthday!”

Ted shook his head. “You reached into the register without permission. You’re really lucky I don’t report you to corporate for theft.”

“Theft? You gotta be kidding me! You were the one—” Maria caught herself. An odd prickling feeling raced up her arms, causing her chest to burn with fire. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

Then she turned around and went down the few steps that led to the Popcorn Palace’s bottom floor, where the magic happened. If she kept running her mouth, she had no doubt Ted would fire her. Getting fired was never a good thing, but getting fired on your birthday was damn near embarrassing.

***

The workers of the Popcorn Palace called the bottom room, which doubled as a stock room and kitchen, ‘the Last Level of Hell,’ because once the kettle got cooking, the temperatures sweltered. Maria was already sweating.

“So hot,” she huffed to herself, wiping her forehead. “And screw you, Ted. Trying to rip off an old woman. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

How people could do such terrible things was beyond Maria. She wondered how Ted was able to fall asleep at night. Probably hanging upside down—or maybe in a coffin, the fucking bloodsucker, she thought.

The booming business rush had left the store low on buttery popcorn, the regular movie theater kind. Working the kettle meant she’d smell like hot butter and oil for the rest of the night. The odor would get trapped in her hair and be near impossible to get out, unless she shampooed and conditioned at least two times. Maria had plans after work; she really didn’t want to smell like a movie theater’s dumpster while she was playing putt-putt with her friends.

“Beats being up there with Ted,” she murmured. “But I wonder how many senior citizens he’s ripped off since I’ve been gone. That poor woman.”

Maria turned the kettle on. It would take about five minutes for it to warm up, and for the kernels to start popping. She laughed as she read the name of the kettle. ‘Cornelius, the Cornado.’ Clever, very clever, and it never gets old.

She hit the button for the oil release. It squirted into the bowl at about a hundred miles per hour, sizzling as it hit the heating metal. Then Maria scooped a cup full of kernels out of the bin, salted it with two scoops of bright orange popcorn salt, and dumped it in the bowl. She hit the button for the motor, which would spin the kernels in a gritty, oily mess until it was time to pop-pop-pop. But the motor jerked and made a hair-raising whine.

“No, not again,” Maria groaned. She opened the lid and peered in. Dried oil caked the spindles inside. The same thing happened last week. She couldn’t fix it herself; instead, she’d had to call Ted and have him go in and try to fix it, which was unsuccessful. The idea of calling her boss down here now brought a bad taste to her mouth.

“No, I can do it myself. I don’t need that rat bastard.”

She flicked the ‘On/Off’ button back and forth. Nothing.

“Ugh.”

She leaned the kettle forward far enough that she could see the underside, but not so far that she had to worry about spilling the kernels and oil. The motor underneath was caked with grease. She wiped some of it away with a rag, leaned the kettle back down, and hit the motor again.

Nothing.

“Damn it all to hell. You gotta be kidding me.”

Anger came over her. She felt her cheeks getting hot and her eyeballs were pulsing.

“Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me have to call that asshole down here,” she begged the kettle.

It hadn’t even started to get warm yet.

“Not the fucking heater, too!” She let the kettle drop and studied it in all its stainless steel glory. “God, could this day get any worse?”

Another weird feeling passed over her; her arms tingled, her hair stood on end. She jammed her eyes closed. The room began to spin, like the motor would not.

“Oh, I don’t feel so good. Maybe Gramps was right.” She swooned and stumbled forward, putting her hands out in front of her to steady herself.

They landed on the cold metal of the kettle, and an explosion of colors lit up the room. Deep greens and oranges. The room’s temperature dropped. Maria’s muscles quivered and tightened.

“Oh, what the fu—” she began; she never got to finish the sentence, because the kettle exploded in a rain of popcorn, knocking Maria on her ass.

The air smelled of hot butter and salt.

“Oh, crap!” she shouted, and shielded her face as popcorn came down all over the room. “Stupid kettle!”

It seemed never-ending. The popcorn should’ve fallen into the catch tray as it rolled out of the kettle like a slow moving wave of deliciousness; instead, she was hit by a blasting volcano of kernels.

Maria tried to pull herself up, but she slipped in the oil, landing on her side with an, ‘Oomph’.

“God, can this day get any worse!?”

Suddenly she heard footsteps coming down the steps, and soft cursing.

“Yeah, I guess it can,” Maria sighed. She managed to pull herself up using the sink to the right of the kettle, while her feet were sliding out from under her.

“What in the hell is going on down here?” Ted boomed.

“Kettle’s on the fritz.”

“What did you do? Damn it, Maria, you act more like a kid who needs to be babysat than a full-grown adult. I didn’t hire you because I wanted to act like your damn mother.”

That struck Maria the wrong way. Not only because she’d never known her mother, but because nobody talked to Maria like that and got away with it. Nobody.

She stood up tall, squaring her shoulders to Ted’s own slumped ones. Her fingers worked at the apron knot tied behind her back. Once it came undone, she whipped it off. “You know what? I don’t need you to belittle me, man. I’m going home.”

“What? You don’t get to go home until your shift is over.” Ted checked his wristwatch dramatically. It made Maria chuckle. “You still have another hour.”

“Well, screw your hour. You can fire me if you want to. I don’t care. I’d rather work with Satan than with someone who rips off defenseless old women.”

Ted’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t talk to—”

“To you like that? I can and I just did.” Maria stormed over the popcorn-covered floor, the kernels crunching beneath the soles of her work shoes. Once her back was to Ted, she smiled. God, it feels good to stand up to him.

Something definitely has changed, she thought as the cool, air-conditioning of the upper level hit her. A line of customers waited at the counter.

“Hey, some service would be real nice!” a guy in a tank top said. “Get your head out of your ass, and gimme some popcorn.”

Maria ignored them, feeling the tingling in her arms again. She clenched her hands into fists and walked out of the small store, to the Sephora beyond. Claire, dressed in her red and black dress—the uniform of Sephora makeup pushers—stood in the doorway, holding a tube of mascara.

“What the hell, Maria?” she said.

“I’m ready to go play putt-putt,” Maria said, walking past her into the store.

“Maria, are you feeling okay? You still have an hour left on your shift.”

“I’m fine. Let’s go pick up Tabby and get this show on the road.”

Claire’s eyes were wide open. “All right, gimme a minute to finish up with this customer.” In the seat, her face half-painted with blush and eye shadow and all types of product Maria didn’t truly understand, sat a middle-aged woman. “Sorry about that,” Claire said to her, then continued brushing her eyelashes with the black stick that Maria thought looked like a medieval torture device.

“I’ll be in the car,” Maria said, taking Claire’s keys authoritatively from the back room. A couple other Sephora employees gave her a wide berth. I could get used to this, Maria thought, and left Rolling Hill Mall on foot, heading to the parking lot beyond.

***

As she sat in the car blasting both the air conditioner and 97.5’s classic rock station—Led Zeppelin was singing about a misty mountain hop—she felt a calm run through her, one she’d never felt before.

“Something is happening,” she said. Then, “Oh, great, I’m talking to myself. Maybe I’m going crazy. Maybe Gramps put some of his old psychedelics in that music box he gave me. No! Maybe I’m having my coming of age, like in all those movies I like. That’s it. I’m just coming into my own.”

She tapped the dashboard to the rhythm of John Bonham’s drums. People had told her Zeppelin wasn’t normal girl music many times before, but then again, Maria didn’t think she was a normal girl. She was a product of growing up with Ignatius Apple as her only source of parental guidance.

About five minutes later, she noticed a tall man staring at her from the front fender of a Ford Escape.

“What the hell? Mind your own business, buddy.” Creepers at the mall were a norm. Getting hit on wasn’t something foreign to Maria, but when it left the safe confines of the mall and stretched out into the parking lot, that was borderline stalking—not to mention a little scary.

The man’s nose pointed out around the back tail-light. He had a head of wispy white hair, and his skin was the color of the moon. He jumped when he realized Maria was looking at him, and went back to hiding.

Maria raised her fist, waiting. Sure enough, the man poked his head out again. Then Maria let her middle finger come up. “Yeah, how do you like that, asshole?” she whispered.

The man seemed not to pay her middle finger any attention. He looked longingly at her, as if he were an entomologist studying a new sort of bug.

Claire’s laughter filled the air behind her, drifting in through the window. Maria looked back and saw Claire walking side by side with Joe, the cute security guard Maria had a certain soft spot for.

“Yeah, she’s right in there. Go say hi! Tell her happy birthday, too!” Claire’s pointing finger found Maria, who forgot all about the creepy man hiding behind the Ford Escape across the way. If he was still looking on, she didn’t notice.

“God, I must look like a mess. This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Maria whispered, quickly pulling down the mirror visor and taking in her oil-stained clothes and messy brown hair. “I can’t let him see me like this. I’ll have him running for the hills.”

Time was running out. Her hands searched Claire’s Kia blindly until they came upon a hat on the backseat floor. It was a silly hat made up mostly of pink feathers, which Claire had worn on Halloween the year before. It was not the type of thing Maria would be caught dead wearing under normal circumstances.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Only way I could look stupider is if I let him see me in my popcorn-greasy state. Maybe he’ll think I’m whimsical, a little cute. She rolled her eyes. Keep dreaming. What are my other options? Roll the windows up and lock the doors? No. What about burning rubber out of here? Borderline psychotic, Maria, and possibly a felony. How about—

Time had run out. They were a few steps from the car now.

She put the hat on. It was a little tight around her head, but she made do.

When Claire saw her, she burst into uncontrollable laughter. A heat ran up Maria’s arms, quickly followed by a tingle—the same tingle she’d felt when she thought of Ted ripping off that old woman. But when Joe smiled at her, she melted a little. The anger went out of her like air from a popped balloon.

“Hey, Maria!” Joe said. He had a thick head of blonde curls—surfer hair—and he was tan year-round, as if he lived on the West Coast instead of the sometimes-Arctic wasteland that Ohio could be.

Maria’s voice caught in her throat. “Heeeeey,” she choked out.

“Happy birthday. I like your hat.”

“It’s my hat,” Claire said. “But, yeah, you’re right, it looks better on Maria.” She grinned.

Maria’s face grew hotter.

“Gotta. Putt,” Maria said.

Claire titled her head as if she were confused. “What about Joe’s butt?”

Maria face-palmed. She had never been so embarrassed. Oh, well, maybe that wasn’t true. Gramps came in for career day when Maria was in the third grade, and told this wild story about how he was a great general in a war between witches, wizards, and the evil spiders of the Dark Forest, or something like that. Most of the kids loved it, but they didn’t know Gramps was being dead serious. She’d face-palmed then, too.

“Gonna be late,” she choked out.

“Right,” Claire said. “Nice seeing you, Joe.” She climbed into the driver’s side.

Joe wore a movie star grin. When he bent down, Maria could see the definition of his pecs through the opened collar of his polo security shirt. She bit the inside of her cheek and looked forward.

“Bye, Maria,” he said.

“Bye,” Maria whispered. Joe didn’t hear her. He stood there in the parking lot as the Kia pulled through the open spot in front of it.

Maria somehow looked even better in that silly hat. Like she was glowing, or something. I’ve heard the term ‘radiant,’ but I thought it was reserved for pregnant women…oh, God. No, don’t be silly, Joe.

He shook his head and walked back toward the Employees Only door. He had to get back to strolling around the crowded mall, looking for shoplifters and those damn kids in their roller-skate-shoes — Heelys, or whatever. As he walked away, he thought about two things: One, he felt like he was being watched; like eyes were boring into the back of his head. Two, he was going to ask Maria out the next time he saw her.

***

“What the heck was that? You totally chickened out!” Claire said. “Joe is so into you. How can you not see that?”

Maria had taken off the stupid hat, and her brown hair blew in the rushing wind. Swirling around Claire’s car were the smells of popcorn and the Ohio summer air — freshly cut grass, hot asphalt, and gasoline.

“No, he’s not into me,” Maria replied. “Joe’s into that Kay Jewelers girl; you know, the one who always wears that tight pencil skirt.”

“Alice? No, she’s a lesbian. She hits on me about four times a week. Quit making excuses. If you don’t ask him out, or at least give him your number, I’m gonna do it for you, like we’re back in third grade on the playground.” Claire laughed. “Remember when I asked Danny Belasé out for you?”

“And he said no! Yeah, I remember.” Maria clutched her chest, above the heart. “My first heartbreak.”

They drove through residential neighborhoods while the sun was going down in the distance, and the temperature with it.

“Hey, you mind if we stop at my house? I wanna change my clothes and check on Gramps.”

“You’re the birthday girl…happy birthdaaaaayyyyy to youuuuuuu!”

“Cut it out,” Maria said, but she was smiling.

They arrived at Maria’s house a couple minutes later. “Just wait in the car. I’ll only be a few.”

“I know. Your idea of freshening up is running a comb through your hair and making sure you’re wearing a clean pair of sweatpants.”

“Hey, you can’t beat comfort. I’d walk around in my underwear wherever I went, if it was socially acceptable.”

“You’d get way too much attention,” Claire said. “If you can hardly handle one nerdy, surfer-boy security guard’s passes at you, imagine what it would be like if you served popcorn with your ass hanging out.”

Maria shuddered. “Good point. Imagine what it would do for business, though. We’d really be rolling in dough.”

“Meh, think about Ted in his underwear.” Claire’s face went pale.

“Oh, God! Okay, convo over.”

She went up the front porch steps and unlocked the door. The smell of her grandfather’s weirdness hit her; it was a comforting smell, the smell of home.

“Gramps?”

There was no answer aside from the clicking toenails of Sherlock as he bounded across the kitchen linoleum from his usual resting spot near the refrigerator. He always waited around for Gramps to drop a piece of his sandwich, or some chips or cookies.

“Hi, Sherlock!”

Sherlock barked. He was an older dog, but he was as spry as a puppy. Next thing Maria knew, she was on her butt in the foyer from the Bloodhound knocking her down. Her face was slimy with his slobber as his super-nose explored the scent of buttery popcorn.

“Oh, yuck! Yuck! Quit it, Sherlock!” Maria said, laughing. After the licking was over, Sherlock rolled over onto his back with his legs up in the air, waiting for a belly rub. Maria gave it to him.

After a minute she got up and headed for her room.

“Gramps? You up here?” she said.

Again, no answer.

“Must be down at the ice cream shop again. Poor guy.”

Before Salem’s Ice Cream moved in, the space was a sub sandwich shop called Submerge, and Gramps had spent a lot of time there. Maria guessed he’d never really gotten over Submerge going out of business.

She went into her room, opened her closet, and pulled out a Black Sabbath t-shirt and a pair of jeans that were a little too tight in the butt. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it,” she said.

Sherlock barked at her feet.

“Thanks, boy.”

You’re welcome!

“What the fuck?” Maria said, turning around to glare at the Bloodhound. Sherlock sat on the carpet near the end of the bed. The music box was open on the dresser, softly playing the weird tunes of her grandfather’s rich imagination. “Did you just talk?”

The dog wagged his tail, beating the floor with it, and panted. His breath was bad. Maria waved a hand in front of her face.

“Holy shit, I’m losing it. I really am. It’s no question now that Gramps is actually my grandfather; I wasn’t switched at birth into some weird circus family.” She went back to the closet.

I don’t want to be here all alone again, Maria!

The air seemed to be sucked from the room.

“No way,” she said dismissively. “Dogs don’t talk.” The Bloodhound’s eyes were hopeful, like he was expecting a treat. She paused. “Say something again, Sherlock,” Maria requested.

She waited for the dog to speak; he did, except it wasn’t words that came from his mouth. He let out a deep, rumbling bark instead.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

In the bathroom, she decided to prove Claire wrong. Not only did she run a brush through her wiry brown hair, but she also sprayed it with hairspray, teasing it up a bit, and washed her face. Twice. All that popcorn oil was difficult to get off.

Then she went down the steps, Sherlock following at her heels. His collar jingled. At the front foyer, she slipped on her shoes. Sherlock stared at her, and whenever she stared back, the dog wagged his tail furiously.

“Ah, what the hell. You wanna go play putt-putt?”

Sherlock howled.

“Well, c’mon.” She patted her thigh. Sherlock moved even faster than when he’d greeted her at the door.

Outside, Claire’s voice wailed. “Aww, not the damn dog again!”

Maria shrugged and pulled the door closed.

“If he farts just one time, then you are both walking home. I don’t care if he’s old and it’s your birthday.”

“You heard the driver; no farting!”

Sherlock whined and looked up at Maria.

She could’ve sworn he said, ‘I can’t make any promises. Stomach has a mind of its own.’ But that would just be crazy.

CHAPTER THREE

Tabitha lived in a townhouse with three other girls. Maria didn’t know the names of those girls, nor did she care to. Tabby’s other friends were, for lack of a better word, bitches.

Claire pulled into the driveway. A couple of frat boys were in the front yard with their shirts off, muscles flexed and glistening as they tossed a frisbee back and forth. When Claire put the car in park, the boys hooted and hollered to them. Maria curled her lip up in disgust. She’d always believed she would be hard pressed to find something scummier than frat boys.

Claire soaked up the attention, grinning and waving at the boys, then she honked the horn, making one of the shirtless blonde guys jump.

Maria laughed. “Way to go, Claire. Really scoring the brownie points.”

“Shove it.”

Tabby came out. She bounded down the steps, her strawberry blonde ponytail swaying back and forth. One of the boys whistled at her, and she gave him the finger. Maria appreciated the gesture, but she didn’t appreciate the fact that Tabby clutched a wrapped box to her chest.

“Happy birthday!” Tabby said.

“Thanks,” Maria answered, her tone slightly annoyed.

Tabby crawled into the backseat, much to Sherlock’s pleasure — he barked and breathed hot air all over her face.

“Down, doggy!”

“Sherlock,” Maria said from the front seat. Sherlock whined.

She smells like bacon and eggs!

Maria’s heart stuttered. “Did you hear that?”

“Huh?” Tabby and Claire said at the same time.

“Someone said Tabby smells like bacon and eggs,” Maria said. Her eyes were wide and she looked around the Kia suspiciously.

Tabby arched her eyebrow. “You feeling okay, Maria?”

“So no one heard that?” Maria said.

“No,” Claire said.

“I did make bacon and eggs this morning, but that was hours ago. I showered before you got here.”

Maria couldn’t smell it. Now she looked at Sherlock. He was sitting on the backseat almost like a human. Maria could’ve sworn that his droopy lips were turned up in the slightest smile.

“Okay…” Claire said. “Let’s just ignore the fact Maria is suddenly turning into her kooky grandpa.”

Maria didn’t respond, even though she usually would. She was stunned. That voice. She heard it back at her house, and then in the car. It was Sherlock. Sherlock is somehow…talking to me.

“It was bound to happen,” Tabby said. “No big deal. There’s medicine for it, I’m sure.” She thrust the gift box toward Maria. “Here, got you this.”

Maria took it absentmindedly.

“Open it!” Tabby said.

Sherlock barked.

Barked. Didn’t talk. Let it go, Maria. You aren’t going crazy, she chided herself.

Claire backed out of the driveway while the frat boys watched the entire time.

Maria unwrapped the package. Inside was a push-up bra from Victoria’s Secret. “Uh…” Maria balked.

“Do you absolutely love it?” Tabby said.

Claire burst into laughter.

“This looks like something a stripper would wear before…you know, she strips,” Maria said.

I think you’d look lovely in that, the voice piped up again.

Maria snapped around to look at Sherlock. He sat eyeing her, wagging his tail.

“Okay, weird. Super weird,” Maria mumbled.

“The bra?” Tabby asked. “I think it’s perfect. You need something to attract the fellas. Not ratty old band t-shirts. Show a little skin, Maria! You’re nineteen and you’ve never even kissed a guy!”

“Not true,” Maria said defensively.

“Who?” Claire said.

“Well…” Maria thought about it.

“Yeah, exactly!” Tabby said, leaning forward.

Claire turned left down Britain Road, heading for Barney’s Busy Corners, where Downview Sports was located.

“No!” Maria said. “Last I checked, Sherlock is a guy! I kiss him all the time.”

Neither Claire nor Tabby laughed. Tabby grabbed the bra out of Maria’s hands and held it up. “Seriously, Maria, that’s just sad. Put this on. We’re gonna find you a cute boy to kiss on your birthday.”

***

Maria didn’t put the bra on. She was comfortable enough, and it was her birthday after all; she got the final say in what bra she wore.

Downview was packed. They had each paid the few bucks for a round of mini-golf. Most of the people there were in the arcade or the batting cages. Some of the more “badass” kids were smoking cigarettes at the skate park next to the putt-putt course. Maria could smell the tobacco from where she stood.

“Good luck,” Tabby said. She had just hit a hole in one on possibly the toughest hole on the course. A large windmill spun and knocked Claire’s green ball back to the tee. Claire growled in frustration. The other girls laughed.

Sherlock watched with what looked like amusement. Typically dogs weren’t allowed in the park, but the owner of Downview was close with Maria’s grandfather; plus Sherlock was always on his best behavior. He was an old dog—his hyperactive days were long behind him.

Claire finally made it through, and it was Maria’s turn. She swung, timing her shot with the spinning windmill. The ball soared up the green, on target, but the windmill blocked it at the last possible second and sent it pinballing back to the tee.

“Damn it,” Maria said. “Why do we play a game that’s so frustrating?”

“Relax,” Claire said, laughing.

Maria tried again. It took her three more attempts to beat the windmill. Her score was not looking good.

They made it to the last hole, catching up to the people in front of them. Maria had always thought this one was the hardest, despite what Claire and Tabby would’ve said. In order to reach the cup, you had to hit the ball up a clown’s tongue—which was hard enough. But it got harder. The clown would bring his top teeth down to bite as soon as it sensed the ball traveling toward its mouth. It was like the windmill, but faster. On busy nights, the line to get through the last hole sometimes took fifteen minutes. Claire and Tabby never got stuck on it, though. Somehow.

It was not Maria’s favorite, not to mention the clown looked creepy as all hell. A big head, flaking white paint on its face and blood-red paint on its lips. The sinister laugh that sounded once the golf ball connected with its clamping teeth had given her nightmares when she was younger.

As predicted, the line was pushing fifteen minutes; not because Downview was really busy, but because a couple of teenaged guys who were obviously stoned out of their minds were screwing around, trying to hit their balls at the same time in the hopes the clown’s teeth would be wedged open.

Move it, Maria urged silently.

“You guys hungry?” Maria asked her friends, not wanting to watch the clown bite down anymore.

Sherlock barked.

“Not you.”

Awww, the phantom voice said, shocking her. She did her best to ignore it, thinking she must’ve gotten a contact buzz from the stoned teens ahead of them. I’m hallucinating, that’s all.

“I could use a Butterfinger,” Claire said.

“I’m good,” Tabby said. “I ate some of your cake on the way here.”

“Damn it, Tab, that wasn’t for you!” Claire said, punching her in the arm.

“Ow! Sorry, I was hungry. Besides, it wasn’t all me.” Tabby looked down at Sherlock, who wagged his tail faster than the windmill had spun on the previous hole. “Sherlock here helped me a bit.”

“Ewww, you shared with the dog,” Claire said.

Maria grinned. “So, a Butterfinger; anything else?”

Claire shook her head.

“Okay, I’ll be back.”

***

Maria opened the door to the snack bar. A blast of air conditioning washed over her. Sherlock tried to follow her. “No, buddy. Dogs are definitely not allowed around the food. Doesn’t matter if Edgar and Gramps are old friends.”

Sherlock whined and lay down on the concrete.

A voice came from behind Maria. “If dogs aren’t allowed, then you definitely should turn around and go back to the kennel.”

Maria’s skin prickled. She knew that voice. She hated that voice. It was Kaylee Wilson, her arch-nemesis from high school.

She turned around and saw Kaylee standing there with a gang of her bitchy friends: Amanda Haggerty, Alicia Foreman, and a gay guy named Vince Lorenzo. They stood there tensed, like Maria was about to fight them. She didn’t plan on it, but anything could happen. Maria frowned, disappointed to see that in the two years since they’d graduated high school, Kaylee hadn’t put on any weight or gotten pregnant or drafted by the military or experienced any number of the other things that would get her the hell out of town.

“Clever,” Maria finally replied, staring at Kaylee. Her grandfather taught her to never back down from bullies, which was the reason most of high school had sucked. Maria didn’t back down, but neither did Kaylee. The pranks and jokes had ramped up in intensity over those four years. Maria remembered seeing Carrie and wishing she’d been able to do that at her high school prom. Just rough ‘em up a bit, that’s all. Minus the pig’s blood, of course.

This time Kaylee flinched under Maria’s gaze. The others hadn’t even looked in Maria’s direction. That was satisfying. She smiled and went inside the snack bar.

The owner sat on a stool smoking a cigarette. You weren’t supposed to smoke inside, and the stuff Edgar smoked always smelled funny—not like the stuff the skaters outside smoked. Edgar’s pot was out of this world, for lack of a better term. Maria often wondered who sold it to him. My grandfather, maybe? She wouldn’t be surprised.

“Maria! Good to see you again!”

“I just saw you like half an hour ago,” Maria replied.

“I know, I know. It’s just so good to see you, Maria! How’s your old gramps doing? Haven’t seen Ignatius in a while.”

“No? I figured you saw him every night,” Maria said. “On account of you guys always meeting at that new ice cream shop on South Avenue.”

Edgar chuckled. “No, no, I haven’t been down there since I blew up—” He stopped, his face suddenly deadly serious. “I’ve said too much.”

“Okaaaay.” Maria was used to that kind of oddness from Edgar; she didn’t even think to ask what he might’ve blown up. Seemed like he was always blowing something up. “Well, you got any buckeye ice cream left?”

Edgar looked over his shoulder, and then forward at the empty tub of buckeye ice cream next to the birthday cake and chocolate banana. “For you, Maria, anything. Gimme a minute; gotta go open tomorrow’s tub.” He made a motion like he was zipping up his lips. “Don’t tell no one, kay?”

“My lips are sealed.”

Edgar left through the back door, leaving behind a cloud of smoke. Kaylee and her gang were messing with the golfing equipment in the far corner, where the snack bar doubled as a place to check out golf clubs and different colored golf balls. Their reflections were visible in the glass sneeze guard. A tick-tick-tick filled the air as Kaylee bounced a ball on the edge of a golf club.

Maria was trying her best to ignore them when a flare of pain filled her head—a great burst of red, white, and blue, almost a month after Independence Day.

A clunk came from the corner of the room, a whistle sounded through the air, and Maria turned. A great big fireball sliced toward her. Except it wasn’t a fireball—it was a red golf ball.

“Think fast,” Kaylee said. Her voice came out in slow motion. All of it was in slow motion. Should I step aside and let the ball shatter the glass partition, or should I—

She caught the ball.

Kaylee’s mouth dropped open into a perfect ‘O’.

Then Maria’s arms glowed a faint blue beneath her pale skin, and the ball in her hand fizzled, the plastic melting.

She was angry, but she was scared shitless, too.

“What the hell?” Kaylee whispered.

“She’s a fucking alien!” Alicia Foreman said.

“Kill her!” Vince suggested, only half-joking.

Kaylee grabbed another handful of golf balls and began chucking them at Maria. Maria dropped the smoking one from her hand and easily caught the others, her skin glowing more noticeably.

When Kaylee ran out of balls, she stared at Maria, not believing what she was seeing.

I always knew Maria Apple was weird, but what the fuck? Kaylee thought.

Then Maria raised her arm and cocked it back like she was about to beam the balls back toward Kaylee and her friends. To Kaylee, Maria looked like she could throw some heat…literally.

“Fuck this. Freak!” Kaylee shouted and ran for the doors.

But Maria wasn’t going to throw the golf balls back. She was above that. Gramps would’ve been disappointed if she had. He had told her to stand up to bullies, and that’s exactly what she had done. If she threw the balls back, she would’ve been stooping as low as Kaylee, and that was pretty low.

So she just watched them run out the door with a smile on her face. Sherlock barked after them.

Kaylee knocked a kid down and stepped over his splayed out body. Maria rushed out and helped him up.

“Lady, you’re glowing blue, like a freakin’ nightlight!” the kid said.

Maria let out an awkward chuckle and turned around to head into the snack bar.

***

“What the heck happened?” Edgar asked.

She wasn’t glowing anymore, but she was definitely watching her skin with a close eye. Edgar held a paper bowl full of buckeye ice cream, a local Ohioan delicacy.

“Why are there balls everywhere? Gosh, this is gonna take a year to clean up!”

Maria chuckled. “Uh, that’s what she said?”

Edgar didn’t laugh, despite it obviously being hilarious. Maria never missed out on a ‘TWSS opportunity,’ as she called it.

The Butterfingers sat on the counter next to the cash register with an assortment of other candies. Maria set two five-dollar bills on the counter, grabbed a Butterfinger, and took the ice cream from Edgar, who stood surveying the destruction.

“Thanks, Ed!”

She quickly rushed out of the snack bar and back to the last hole; Sherlock followed at her heels, eyeing her food.

When she got back to the clown (which was chuckling sinisterly), Claire and Tabby looked at her with mild exhaustion.

“Took you long enough. Hey, are you feeling okay? You look a little different,” Claire said.

“Yeah, she looks more confident,” Tabby replied. “Did you put on the bra? Those babies seem to be popping more.”

Maria shook her head. She handed Claire the Butterfinger. Claire quickly unwrapped it and chomped away. “We’re up,” she said through a mouthful of chocolate.

“I ran into Kaylee.” She didn’t even have to say her last name. The other girls instantly recognized her; her name was almost synonymous with Hitler or Darth Vader.

“Yuck!” Tabby said. “That wench is here? Let’s hurry up and get the hell out before we see her and her goons again!”

“Take your turn,” Claire said. “Birthday girl gets first swing, never mind the score.”

“Hold on, let me take a bite of my ice…” Maria looked down and saw her buckeye ice cream had turned to buckeye soup. “What the hell?” Inside the cup, the buckeyes floated lazily—half-melted into chocolate peanut butter lumps.

“That was my last ten bucks! How could it melt just from there to here?”

“Take your turn!” Claire said. “We can worry about ice cream later. Besides, swimsuit season might be on its way out, but we still gotta look hot.”

Claire was obviously joking. She knew stereotyping women was a quick way to get on Maria's nerves, but she rolled her eyes and stepped up to take her turn.

“There’s the freak!” Kaylee yelled from beyond the fence. Maria tried not to pay attention to her, but it was almost impossible. “Swing, freak! Swing! Swing!”

“Just ignore them,” Tabby said. “They’re stuck in high school.”

Maria nodded, gripped her golf club, and lined up her shot. She went for it. The ball rolled up the clown’s tongue; the clown’s teeth gnashed, its big cartoon eyes darted back and forth, back and forth. A bolt of excitement struck Maria’s heart.

Hole in one, she was thinking. Hole in one!

It seemed like all eyes were on her. Everyone waited with bated breath to see where the ball might end up.

Would it go down the clown’s gullet, or would it be—

Blocked.

“Damn it!” Maria shouted. The ball clinked against the clown’s teeth, and the clown laughed.

“So close! So close!” it said tauntingly.

Kaylee and her group of friends threw their heads back in laughter. “The freak strikes again!”

“Oh, no,” Maria said, looking down at her hands wrapped around the club. They glowed a soft blue, hardly noticeable.

“Can’t even beat a dumb clown!” Kaylee shouted.

“Yeah, well I’d like to see you try!” Tabby shouted back with her fist raised toward the sky.

Now everyone was watching them. Maria tried to hide her exposed flesh, hoping her face wasn’t glowing, too.

Tingles and chills went up Maria’s arms. She felt a thrumming deep in her bones. “Not good. This is not good,” she decided quietly.

“C’mon,” Claire coaxed. “Let’s just get out of here.” Maria glanced up at her friend and saw how defeated she looked.

“No!” Maria said, louder than she’d intended. “No, I’m not letting those assholes get the best of me.”

“Are you talking about Kaylee or the clown?” Tabby asked.

“Both,” Maria answered through clenched teeth.

“Wait a second,” Claire said, “Are you…are you glowing?”

Maria ignored it. She wished she was wearing a long sleeve shirt, despite the weather.

With her club, she lined the ball up on the starting spot.

“The freak steps up to the plate…” Kaylee mock announced. “She swings, and—”

Maria took her shot. As she cocked her arm back, an outrageous power stole through her. It was like riding a wave of electricity, like reaching the top of a mountain, like—

The club connected with the ball with an enormous thwack.

Sherlock barked his head off, but inside Maria’s mind, with the pulsing power going through her, she heard, ‘Go, Maria! Go!’

The ball rippled up the green, leaving a scorch mark in its wake. The plastic clown’s tongue melted like Maria’s ice cream. The ball seemed to be getting smaller and smaller, like a meteor breaking through Earth’s atmosphere.

The teeth came down. Somewhere, someone screamed. The teeth didn’t stop the ball. No, the ball plowed right through the big plastic squares, then shot down the clown’s throat, making it seem as if the clown had swallowed a fireball. Then the ball came out the other side, where it scorched the green and rattled in the hole.

Everyone went silent.

Maria’s arms rippled with near invisible fire. She looked around, too afraid to blink and too afraid to move her body, letting her eyes do the moving for her.

Then Tabby broke the silence. “All right! Hole in-motherfucking-one!” She jumped. Someone clapped.

“Eat it!” Claire yelled at Kaylee.

But it wasn’t over.

A small fire was burning in the clown’s head, and with a sudden explosion, it took off like a bottle rocket, heading straight toward Kaylee and her friends on the upper level. They moved out of the way.

"Holy shit!" Kaylee yelled, jumping.

Vince Lorenzo screamed and started running. He tripped and Kaylee used him as a stepping stone, but Kaylee tripped and teetered on the edge of the little pond near the eighth hole. Her two friends tried to snag her before she fell. No luck. Kaylee fell backward with a scream, pulling them all in the water.

The clown missed them, but it had rattled them pretty good.

Now the rest of the audience began to clap. Maria wasn’t sure how to feel.

So she ran—ran to the parking lot, and got into Claire’s car.

CHAPTER FOUR

“What the fuck was that?” Tabby said. She and Claire ran through the crowd of amazed onlookers, and Sherlock followed them, barking his head off. Maria had already reached the Kia.

“Unlock the car!”

The Kia chirped, and the locks clicked up. She threw herself into the front seat, pulled the goofy feather hat from the floor, and put it over her face.

Claire and Tabby followed her into the car.

“That was like something from one of my brother’s video games!” Claire said.

“Holy shit. I’ve never seen anything like that, video game or otherwise,” Tabby added.

“Just drive, “ Maria whispered. Through the hat, she noticed the glowing blue light coming off her skin. It reminded her of those weird floating jellyfish things in the movie Avatar. Quickly, she covered up her glowing arm with her other arm, which was not glowing.

The Kia roared as Claire peeled out of the parking lot and onto Britain Boulevard, narrowly missing a Ford truck. The Ford honked. Maria removed the hat from her face and angled her body to hide her lit-up right arm. Out the window, she was able to see Kaylee and her gang crawling out of the small pond on the eighth hole. Their clothes were dripping wet and their hair was plastered to their faces. It made the fear and anger leave Maria. She smiled and then burst out laughing.

“That was awesome!” Tabby said. She held her hand up for a high-five.

Maria was too busy catching the last fleeting glimpses of the soiled Kaylee gang, so Sherlock raised a paw. Tabby gladly took it.

“Seriously though, what the fuck was that?” Claire said. She just made the light through Barney’s Busy Corners. Good thing. Drivers had been known to sit at the intersection for upwards of ten minutes when traffic was really bad.

“I have no idea,” Maria answered.

“Did you glow?” Tabby asked. “I could’ve sworn you glowed.”

“I…I’m not sure,” Maria said. “No. No way.”

You glowed. You always glow, that phantom voice said. This time Maria caught Sherlock’s gaze with it.

“Is that you?” she asked.

“Huh?” Tabby said, looking confusedly back and forth between Maria and the Bloodhound.

Sherlock held Maria’s eyes, and he…nodded.

Holy shit, Maria thought, her jaw dropping.

Tabby snapped her fingers. Click-click. Waved her hand. “Earth to Apple, are you all right? Mariaaaaaa!”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess.”

The night was darker on the road that led to Maria’s house. Clouds covered the moonlight. The air was still; the only sound was the whipping wind from the open windows.

“Well,” Tabby said, “what a fucking night.” She laughed.

“Yeah, now what? Want to watch a scary movie or something?” Claire asked. “If your grandpa will let us have the TV, that is. I’m sure he will…it’s your birthday for like, two more hours.”

Maria didn’t answer. She was staring at Sherlock. Did I just talk to my fucking dog? What the hell is going on with me? First the popcorn and the weird guy watching me in the mall’s parking lot, and now exploding clown heads and glowing blue skin.

“Maria?” Tabby said.

“Uh, yeah…yeah,” Maria replied, snapping out of it.

“Yeah, you want to watch a horror movie? What about Texas Chainsaw Massacre?” Tabby asked. “New or the original?”

“Yuck,” Claire moaned.

Sherlock whined. I don’t like the sounds of those chainsaws. They’re just so…uncouth.

“ ‘Uncouth’? What the hell does that mean?” Maria asked.

“Maria?” Tabby said, “Geez, I think there’s something really wrong with her.” Her hand came out to feel Maria’s head.

Maria blinked and pushed the hand away.

“So new or original?” Tabby asked again.

Claire turned into Maria’s driveway, put the Kia in park, and started rolling the windows up.

“Uh,” Maria stammered, then shook her head. “No, no movie tonight. I’m beat. The early shifts kill me.”

“Aww,” Tabby and Claire said simultaneously.

Thank you, that voice said—that voice that somehow came from Sherlock.

“Yeah, raincheck, guys,” Maria said. She checked that her arms were not glowing before she leaned in and hugged Claire, then over the backseat to hug Tabby. “I had a great birthday. Thank you guys so much.”

“A great weird birthday,” Tabby said.

“It’s the only way,” Maria said, grinning.

She got out and went around to let Sherlock out. He eased his way down—he was old after all. Then Maria headed up to the front door. She was not tired at all. Her body hummed with an odd energy, one completely unexplainable. She opened the front door while hoping to get to the bottom of whatever was happening to her. She was backtracking, thinking about when it all started. But she was unable to pinpoint it. That’s okay. If anyone knows what’s happening, Gramps will.

The headlights washed over Maria, and she waved to Claire.

“Weird,” Maria said. “Such a weird day.”

Sherlock whined in what sounded like approval.

“Well, whatever,” Maria dismissed. I have bigger things to worry about.

She turned and went back into the house, closing the door behind her.  She made sure it was dead bolted. No former high school drama queens would be able to get in.

The television was on, playing a recorded episode of General Hospital. Her grandpa sat in his wheelchair with a blanket over his legs, which probably meant he was in his underwear, snoring away. His head was cocked back, his mouth open, drool shining in the bright light from the picture. A man in scrubs kissed an older woman passionately.

“Yuck,” Maria said. “Probably should turn it off; save electricity and all that crap.”

I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Sherlock warned.

Maria looked down.

Seriously, what the fuck? she thought.

Sherlock looked up at her, wagging his tail.

You know he’ll wake up as soon as the button clicks and say, ‘Hey! I was watching that, dangnabbit!

“Right,” Maria said.

She looked back down at Sherlock. His tongue was out and he was panting.

“Geez, what has my life come to? Look at me, taking orders from a dog. A dog who is talking to me somehow. God, I’m going crazy. That’s what it is. Or it’s a dream. I’m still asleep, and my alarm is about to go off and wake me up for work, for the early shift with Ted. Yeah! That’s it!”

I assure you, Maria, this is very, very real. You’ve got a gift. You’re coming into it, Sherlock explained.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. Now how the heck am I going to wake up?” She paused, looking around the room. Maybe a splash of cold water to my face? Slam my fingers in the refrigerator door? Climb up to the roof and jump off?

“No, bigger than that,” she determined.

Maria, whatever you are thinking, do not do it!

“I’m thinking you’re a dog and you can’t talk, but I hear you. Hear you loud and clear. Except your lips ain’t moving. Neither is your jaw. So something is up. Boy, oh boy, this is the weirdest dream I’ve ever had.”

It’s not a dream—

“Oh, I know! I’ll just go to sleep. What better way to wake up from a really exciting dream than to bore yourself out of it? There’s nothing exciting about sleep. Sure, sleep is beautiful and one of my most favorite things in the world, but it’s pretty bland. Ever watch someone sleep, Sherlock? It’s like watching paint dry.”

Maria—

“Nope, mind has been made up. So sorry.”

If Sherlock could let out a sigh of relief that didn’t sound like panting, he would have. For a second there, he thought Maria was about to seriously hurt herself; from what he’d seen at the putt-putt course, pain leads to anger, and anger leads to a glowing blue fury that explodes clown heads and sends high school enemies into about four feet of cold, scummy water.

Maria went up the steps, and the wood creaked beneath her weight. Sherlock followed. How can I explain what is happening, when I’m not even sure myself? He’d picked up bits of information from Ignatius by sitting at his feet and waiting for food scraps, all the while listening to the ramblings of what a normal Earthling might think was a madman. No, maybe I should wait. Maybe I should let Ignatius do the explaining.

“I could drop the hair dryer into my bathwater. That jolt would be enough to send me out of dreamland, huh, Sherlock?” Maria said.

Now Sherlock didn’t try to converse with her through whatever telepathy the two shared. This time he barked. Barked loud and angry. It felt good to do that. These days, now in the twilight of his dog years, Sherlock hardly ever barked. Mailman? Used to it. UPS guy? Enticing, but used to it, too. Maria’s friends or Ignatius’s weird spells and funny smells? No way, José. So he let it rip. It was like revving a Harley Davidson engine.

“Whoa, cool it,” Maria ordered. She looked startled. Moonlight came in through the upstairs’ hall window, bathing Maria’s face in white. “Or I’m gonna leave you outside all night. And I know you’re scared of the monsters out there.”

Just trying to get your attention.

“Don’t you think a talking dog would get my attention in the first place?”

Technically, I’m not talking. I’m communicating telepathically. You hear my thoughts directed toward you, and then you respond by way of voice. If I try to do what you are doing, all that comes out is a bark.

“Man, I must’ve taken too much Z-Quil before bed. This is really the weirdest dream I’ve ever had!”

It’s not a dream! I don’t know how I can prove—

“Good night,” Maria said. She didn’t even bother going to her bed—she just fell to the floor and closed her eyes.

Yes, it was quite a weird night; one that would only prove to get weirder.

CHAPTER FIVE

Malakai had arrived on Earth a long time ago. His search for Ignatius Mangood had turned up nothing.

Many years had passed since the fall of Dominion, and in that time, Malakai had died.

Died a traitor.

In that time, Malakai had also risen.

But not on his own.

The Widow, after the Arachnids’ reclamation of Dominion, had settled onto the throne. She never ordered the removal of King Roderick’s body; she sat there and watched him rot, salivating as he turned to dust.

The victory hadn’t been complete, though. The Arachnids were missing one crucial item: the music box, the key to the world in between. The wizard Ignatius had taken it and jumped the portal to Earth—a place he knew the Widow would never dare set foot.

But she knew someone who would; someone who could play on the sympathy of Ignatius and win back the box.

Then the Arachnids’ victory would be complete.

Earth was not a big place, in comparison to Oriceran, but there seemed to be so much unknown, and that slowed Malakai down. Metal boxes on wheels that the humans used to get around, poles on the sides of walkways with miles and miles of wire running from them. No one used magic openly, though there had been times when Malakai had sensed it. There were hidden wizards and witches, Elves, and Gnomes.

But no Arachnids. The very earthen soil would burn their eight limbs to ash. It was, to the Arachnids, an unholy place.

If you were alive.

Malakai was not. Not anymore. But he felt like he was getting closer and closer, and that was something.

He had arrived in the state of Ohio three Earth days before, prowling through the back woods along the turnpike, only coming out into the metropolises when the sun went down and the night breathed evil.

Cincinnati—nothing.

Toledo—nothing.

Columbus—nothing.

When he’d headed north toward Cleveland, a vision greeted him in the darkness of night. He fell forward on the leaf-covered forest floor, the smoldering remains of his fire sending remembrances of a life he’d lived long ago into his brain via his nostrils. The urge to vomit came with the remembrance, but was quickly forgotten.

Then the smoke from the fire changed.

A stranger watching this would yell ‘Witchcraft!’ Or perhaps they’d blame Satan.

Malakai knew it was neither. It was worse.

It was the Widow.

“Malakai,” the Widow had said in his vision. Her voice was syrupy, almost drunk. A forked tongue poked through long, yellowed incisors.

“Yes, Master. I am here.”

“You are close.” The image of the Widow tilted her head back. The long black braids attached to her skull hung down, framing her haggard face. “I can smell it.”

Worlds away.

“I sense it, too.”

“You will need to disguise yourself. Reconnaissance will have to extend. No longer can you slink in the woods by day and seek out the box by night.”

Malakai bowed his head to the apparition.

“You will need to use a concealment spell, but you will need a wand.”

“Master, isn’t that risky?”

“Yes, it is, but it’s a risk we will have to take.” A bigger risk, the Widow let on. She didn’t care if Malakai died in pursuit of the box. If he died, then the location would be known, and she could send another one after it—and another, and another. It was the Order of the Silver Griffins she was worried about. They were legion. And they were detectors of unauthorized magic.

“If they show up, you will kill them. It’s simple,” the Widow stated.

And if you die — well, Malakai, you’ve proven to be quite good at that, she thought to herself.

Though she had some faith in him; enough to resurrect him from the grave. But once double-dead, there was no coming back. One could not have a third chance.

“As you wish, Master,” Malakai answered.

“Good. Good. I will contact you soon. Head northeast. The box is there. I can feel it.”

Malakai nodded as the smoke disappeared, leaving a heavy darkness in the clearing. Black trees stretched to the skies.

And so is Ignatius, the Widow thought as she closed communication with Malakai, her undead soldier. Perhaps he shall kill you again and save me the trouble.

***

About half a mile from where Malakai stayed, a father and his son were camping. The father’s name was Sean Stocker, and that weekend was his weekend with his eight-year-old, Tyler.

Tyler was sleeping in his tent. The kid had been out since nine, and Sean didn’t know what the hell to do with himself. He loved the kid, but it was an adjustment, that was for sure. He’d brought a book—a scary one, despite it being summer time—‘Salem’s Lot, by Stephen King. It was one he’d read a few times before, but not for a while. Turned out the vampires of Jerusalem’s Lot were too much for Sean, and he didn’t want to be scared, in case Tyler woke up. How would that look? My God, terrible. The kid was young, but he’d never forget his old man practically pissing his Jockeys over words on a page.

So what Sean decided to do instead of read was crack open the six-pack of Bud Light he’d brought along. He was trying to quit the booze, but he still had it as a last resort. He’d knock back a couple, and sleep would hit him; he’d wake up with a little hangover, but that was okay because he was with his son. Tyler would want to go fishing down at the lake a couple miles south, and Sean would teach him how to do it just like his old man taught him decades ago. It would be perfect. So perfect, in fact, Tyler would tell his mom that he wanted to start seeing his pops more than every other weekend. And by golly, Nancy would have to honor her little pumpkin’s wishes, lest she lose brownie points.

It was the perfect plan.

Sean just had to get through the night.

So he drank one beer, then another; the next thing he knew, he was on his way to drunkenness, downing the last one and wishing he’d brought more. He watched the fire sway and move, the deadwood crackle, the logs split.

Soon nature called.

Sean got up. He wouldn’t wander far, not with Tyler asleep in the tent. He walked about twenty paces from the campsite and unzipped. As he relieved himself, one arm leaning up against a tree, he saw a figure move in the blackness.

It wasn’t humanoid.

“You’re just drunk, Sean. Pay it no mind,” he mumbled.

He’d been drunk many times before; hallucinations were not part of the deal, not like when he’d done shrooms in college.

Except, this wasn’t a hallucination. It couldn’t be. He could hear sticks break beneath the thing’s feet and its unsteady breathing like a dying engine; he could see its breath fog the cool night air, and he could…he could smell it.

The first thought that blared in his drunken mind wasn’t ‘I gotta get outta here,’ or ‘Where the fuck are my car keys?’ No. It was actually, Tyler. I’ve got to get Tyler the hell out of here, somewhere safe.

Suddenly, the sound of sticks breaking underfoot stopped.

The idea left Sean that this beast would just go on its way. The buzzing in his head from the beer was gone, too. Talk about a quick way to sober up. He wanted nothing more than to run for his dear life, but he couldn’t.

The beast’s head turned. Under the moonlight, its eyes glittered red—there were eight of them. Run, you idiot, run!

Sean turned. That was a start; better than nothing, right?

Wrong.

The sticks and bramble crunched under the beast’s feet.

It was running now.

Sean glanced over his shoulder. He was power walking—it was the best he could do. Six beers and hardly any cardio over the last two decades were not in his favor.

His foot thumped against a tree root, and his hands splayed out in front of him. He fell for what seemed like hours and hit the ground with bone-shattering force.

He felt phantom claws rake at his spine. Sharp, jagged teeth bite into his neck. Warm blood spill down his shirt.

Except—none of that happened. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, too afraid to turn around and look.

Tyler, he thought. Gotta get back to Tyler. You’re just drunk, Sean, that’s all. Seeing shit.

Another part of his mind told him he wasn’t; that the monster he’d seen was already back at the campsite, rooting through the tents for food. Not for the treats he’d packed, either, but for his eight-year-old son, who slept soundly.

Sean pulled himself up. His head throbbed with an oncoming headache; the early warning signs of a bad hangover. So much for fishing, so much for teaching Tyler.

The air was crisp and cool. He used a tree to steady himself. He was already feeling better, his fear now a distant memory, like the last images of a previous night’s nightmare.

He sniffed deeply and almost gagged. His dirty hand came up to his mouth. “What the hell is that smell?” he choked out. It was like wet leaves and rotten roadkill. “The woods fucking suck,” he decided. “And I need more beer.” That was the alcohol talking, good old liquid courage.

As he turned around to head back to the camp, he was greeted by a giant spider. One that stood like a man, had eight red eyes, and six arms hanging from his torso. One that smelled like…like death.

And Sean died.

Malakai tore him to pieces with brute force. He mustn’t let anyone see him; that was what the Widow had said.

He was only following orders.

Now covered in that human man’s blood, Malakai left the forest, heading for the northeastern part of the state called Ohio. He smelled the boy, of course, but he let him be. The boy hadn’t seen him.

When Tyler woke up the following morning, he was lost in the woods, alone, without food, afraid. He stumbled away from the campsite and found a trail of red. Not realizing it was blood, he followed that trail and found the eviscerated remains of his father.

Not knowing it was his father.

Thinking it was some poor animal instead.

CHAPTER SIX

Sherlock’s eyes got big in the dark. A low growling came from the back of his throat. The air upstairs, which was usually hot and stuffy in the summertime, turned ice cold. Goosebumps broke out all over Maria’s skin, though she was sound asleep.

Then Sherlock barked. It was such a menacing bark it burned his throat.

“The dream turns to a nightmare,” Maria whispered groggily. “Seriously, I’m off the Z-Quil for at least three months.” She stood there a moment, hoping the feeling would pass. Though she felt like she had control of whatever dream she was in, she didn’t want to lose it and head into horror movie territory.

“I suppose I should turn around now and be greeted by the world’s biggest spider or, like, a killer clown or something, right? Sherlock?”

She sat up.

Sherlock took off down the steps, whining. He left a trail of drops on the light carpet. Urine. Damn dog.

Maria rolled her eyes. Whatever, it’s a dream. He could piss a waterfall, and none of it would matter. Don’t have to clean up pee in a dream.

She turned around. Beating up a giant spider might be fun.

But what she saw wasn’t a giant spider. Somehow, it was much worse.

“Oh, man,” she said.

“I’m real and this isn’t a dream,” a boy said.

Standing in front of Maria, in what looked like a soldier’s uniform from the Civil War era, was a boy of about fifteen.

“W-What the hell is this?” She glanced around her room, feeling like the walls were closing in on her, tightening, tightening. “Okay, Maria, you can wake up now. Wake up before this kid eats you. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that whenever a kid appears, and especially if the kid starts singing, that it’s time to get the fuck out of there.”

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the boy said.

He looked younger than Maria, but he was taller and very thin.

“Well, buddy, this isn’t your house, so it’s time for you to leave. And if you don’t leave, I’ll have to hurt you.”

“You cannot hurt me,” the boy reasoned, “because I am already dead.”

Maria felt a lump in her throat. “Dead?” she whispered, the word coming out hoarsely.

The boy nodded. Maria hadn’t seen the right side of him yet. He stood at an angle, but now he turned.

Maria clasped a hand over her mouth. “That’s…that’s really gross.”

Smooth talking, Maria. Insult a dead kid. What’s next, you’re gonna roll Gramps’s wheelchair down the basement steps…with him in it?

“It happened in a great battle,” the boy said. “We were winning. The Queen Witch was protecting us with her charms, but…”

“But what?”

“But there was a traitor among our ranks. A traitor I believe is coming for you. A traitor named Malakai.”

“Me? What the fuck? I haven’t seen anyone dressed up in bloody Civil War rags. And trust me, I’d know if I did.”

The boy smiled. It was an odd smile considering half of his face was charred. Maria thought that if he hadn’t died and had been allowed to grow up, that he’d have grown into a handsome man. The thought sent a wave of pain through her heart.

“We’ll get to the traitor later.”

“ ‘Traitor later’,” Maria repeated, chuckling.

“What?”

“Nothing, you just rhymed. Anytime someone rhymes on accident, I usually laugh.”

“You have an odd sense of humor,” the boy said. “I never quite understood the allure of planet Earth.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back up there,” Maria said. She grabbed her nightstand for support. First blue skin and magical explosions, now dead alien kids? “You’re not from Earth?”

The boy shook his head.

Maria pinched her arm and yelped. “That wasn’t supposed to hurt,” she said through gritted teeth. “Well where are you from?”

“Near the outskirts of the Dark Forest. Through Gideon’s Pass in a village called Dominion, to be exact.”

Maria hadn’t heard of any of those places.

“Okay, that’s definitely not Earth, I’ll agree with you there; what planet is that?”

The fact that this wasn’t a dream had slowly seeped into the back of Maria’s mind. The kid looked in need of help, and Maria always went out of her way to help someone.

“Oriceran.”

Maria’s stomach flipped. She grabbed the railing with two hands. Oriceran? Gramps’s Oriceran?

“I know, I know, it must be a shock,” the boy said. He swiped his long curls from his brow.

Maria saw the extent of the wound on his face. It didn’t look like a bullet wound or a knife wound, or like the boy had taken a nasty fall—none of that. His wound looked beyond any form of Earth weaponry. She didn’t know why she felt that way, but she did.

“Yes, Maria, it is the Oriceran your grandfather speaks of. I’ve been watching you.”

“Well that’s the creepiest thing about this whole conversation so far, and I’m talking to a dead boy, for God’s sake.”

“I knew your grandfather as well,” the boy continued, ignoring Maria’s remark. “Ignatius is a good man; you are very lucky to call him family. He lives up to his namesake.”

“How? How did you know him?”

“It’s a long story, and our time is short. We will brush upon it soon.”

Maria stepped forward. “No, tell me. I won’t help unless I know.”

The boy stood there solemnly.

“Better yet, I’ll call him up here. It might take him thirty minutes to get up the stairs, but I’ll do it.”

The boy smiled. “Threats are not like the Maria Apple I’ve come to know.”

“You don’t know me! And you’re in my house, creepily close to my room where I keep all my undergarments. Are you one of those creepazoids? Should I call the police?”

That smile again. “You can call the police. I won’t go anywhere. Go ahead, call them.”

“I get it,” Maria said after a moment. “They can’t see you.”

The boy nodded. “You’re quite bright, Maria. They cannot see me, and neither can Ignatius.”

“Only I can see you, for some reason. Just like only I can make the kettle blow, and the ice cream melt, and the clown’s head explode.”

The boy laughed. It was a nice sound. Maria didn’t think he got to laugh often.

“The clown’s head was a good one,” he said. “The look on Kaylee’s face was hilarious. I haven’t laughed that hard since training. Hotes once shot his arrow the wrong way, and hit the straw man with the butt of it—”

“Reminiscing is nice and all, but I’d really like to know what the hell is going on.”

“It’s better if I show you,” the boy said.

“What does that mean? You have a camera or something? You don’t look like the type of person who would have a camera on them. Maybe a pocketful of toads or something, but definitely not any electronic devices.”

“The way I will show you is the same way you’ve done those things today. The kettle, the ice cream, the put-put.”

“Putt-putt,” Maria corrected.

“Yes. Language arts were never my strong suit. Anyhow, that is the way I will show you.”

“By way of hallucination? Because that’s exactly what I’m doing here.”

The boy shook his head.

He brought his right arm up. The baby blue sleeve of his uniform was soaked through in red. He waved his hand, creating a hazy blur. Maria realized it was a screen.

“Whoa. What the fu—”

But the sounds of battle stopped her.

***

Huge, dark mountains loomed in a hazy purple sky full of odd constellations and two moons. Fire raged all around. Maria’s heart pounded. An army of robed men stormed the barricaded gates that the boy stood behind.

“Duke!” someone shouted near the boy.

The boy turned around. The sword in his hand shook violently.

“Duke, retreat! Retreat! There’s too many of them!”

The boy wasn’t fast enough.

The gates blew open in a blast of black…fire? That’s fire. I’ve never seen black fire.

Duke cried out. He was too late. A burning splinter of wood struck his face, stripping away the skin.

Maria was sitting down on the carpet of her bedroom floor, looking up at the blurry screen where the battle played out, murmuring, “No. God, no…”

The explosion shook the entire world, it seemed. The boy lost his footing and tumbled onto the rocky ground, his sword sent out somewhere among the scattered dead bodies, which were impaled with blood-red arrows.

A shadow came over him; a shadow came over all of the land.

“C’mon, Duke,” a gruff man’s voice said. He bent down and picked Duke up. There was fresh blood on the man’s hand.

Then, like in a movie, the camera shifted perspective. The man who picked up Duke wasn’t a man at all.

Maria jumped. She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that her version of Duke was smiling slightly.

The thing that picked Duke up was out of a science fiction movie; horrific science fiction, at that.

“An Arachnid,” Duke said at Maria’s side. “I know you’re wondering, and I know it’s quite a shock to you. I’d been around them for fifteen years and I never got used to how they looked.”

“Arachnid? That’s what we call a spider here…”

“They had to come from somewhere, right?” Duke said.

Maria grimaced. “I hate spiders.” The truth was, spiders were so creepy, they had to be aliens.

“We do, too,” Duke said. There was a slight lilt in his voice.

“What?” Maria said, catching the change in his tone.

“Keep watching.”

Maria did, but she wished she hadn’t.

Once the gates were blown down, and Maria saw the looming forest in all of its dark glory, she also saw what came through the rubble. Large creatures with faces like the thing that had helped Duke. They wore dark robes, but underneath the dark robes, Maria could see the lumps.

“What are those?”

“Two legs and six arms,” Duke said.

“Ugh,” Maria said.

Their eyes glowed dark red. Spit frothed and foamed from their mouths.

“Geez,” Maria said. “That’s nightmare-inducing.”

One of the Arachnids raised its exposed arm. Purple and green lightning shot out. Duke stumbled, but the one who had helped him didn’t let him fall. They moved across the battlefield, deftly maneuvering through downed humans dressed in the same uniforms as Duke, until they reached cover behind a wooden building.

‘Thanks, Malakai,” Duke said. “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“We must get to the music box. If they get ahold of it, then the villagers are doomed,” Duke said.

“Doomed regardless,” Malakai said.

Duke turned with a snarl. “No, do not give up hope yet. The music box is ours until they take it from our cold dead hands.”

“I’m afraid that’s their plan. I know my species,” Malakai said.

“You’re not like them,” Duke said.

Malakai’s face went dark. He turned away from Duke.

“Resist,” Duke said. “Resist. Resist for me, resist for the ones you love, the ones in the world in between who wait for us.”

Malakai turned back to look at Duke. Now there was a look of sadness on his face. Each one of his eight eyes—Yellow eyes, Maria thought, not red—looked down.

The two hobbled toward the back door. Flames licked at the sides. Beyond the door was a taller building; one Maria thought to be a wooden castle. Soldiers hung over the edge of the moat, half in the water, half out of it. All of them were dead.

“I think we’re the last ones standing,” Duke said. “We must save the Queen Witch.”

“Do you still have the key?”

Duke smiled, his grin bloody. He looked nothing like a fifteen-year-old boy. He looked like a war-crazed man.

Maria felt a pang in her heart. She looked at the boy she’d met. The boy was dead. She knew where this story was heading. She’d watched and read enough stories containing war; they rarely ever had a happy ending.

The Duke on the blurry screen dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a shining piece of metal.

“They gave it to you?” Malakai asked.

Behind them, the sounds of explosions rocked the world again.

“I took it off the general. He died. But just before he went, he told me to guard it with my life. And that is what I intend to do.”

“We shall guard it together,” Malakai said. He threw his arm around Duke’s shoulders and dragged him, limping, toward the castle.

Once they reached the drawbridge of the castle, the building they’d come from—just three hundred yards away—went up in flames.

Duke hobbled over people he’d known and cared about, trying to keep his soldier’s psyche, trying not to let the acts of war slow him down. It wasn’t working.

“Cousin,” he said sadly. He bent down and swiped a hand over a corpse’s face, closing his eyes.

Malakai backed up the drawbridge. “They’re coming! They’re coming.”

With tears in his eyes, Duke left his dead cousin and headed into the castle. A throne stood at the end of the long structure. A strip of red carpet stretched the length of the palace. At the end of the carpet was an emerald-looking basin, glowing green in the dim firelight cast from the sconces on the walls.

On the floor near the end closest to Duke was the king. He was dead.

“No!” Duke shouted. The tears coursed from his face now. “No! No! How could they have gotten in? How?”

Footsteps echoed in the hall. From the throne came a voice.

“It wasn’t too hard.”

Duke went rigid. The hand gripping his wounded side and overflowing with blood fell.

“Malakai!” Duke screamed. “They’re here! They’re here!”

A robed figure sat in the throne. Two other robed Arachnids came out from the shadows around the side.

“Three of them! We can take them!” Duke shouted.

The seated Arachnid laughed. It was a terrible sound, like tree branches that had been struck by lightning, splitting and falling to the hard ground, burning away to ash.

“Malakai!”

“Scream all you want, boy, but the battle is lost.”

Duke leaned down and took the sword out of the king’s scabbard. He raised it with his good arm.

“Never!” Duke cried, and he charged forward.

Maria screamed and hid her face in horror.

The Arachnids stepped forward, all six of their arms coming out from beneath each of their robes. In two of each of them were swords.

Duke skidded to a stop. He was brave, but he was no idiot.

“Now, boy, you know you’re outmatched. Turn around and hide in the ruins of your village,” the lead Arachnid said.

There were footsteps behind Duke now. Malakai.

“Korion,” Malakai said.

“Ah, Malakai, we meet again.”

The Arachnid smiled. It was a gruesome smile. Dripping fangs hung over black leather lips. The eight red eyes suddenly looked hungry.

“It’s not often we meet a traitor to our species, and that traitor lives to tell the tale,” Korion said. The other two laughed and crossed their swords over their chests.

“Fair warning, Malakai.”

“Let’s kill them, Mal!” Duke said.

Now Korion lost it. He almost fell from the throne with laughter.

“You’re not going to be able to laugh when I’m through with you,” Duke said. He raised the king’s sword higher.

“Ha! A boy threatens the leader of the Arachnid army. Can you believe it?” Korion said.

The others laughed.

“On three, we charge,” Duke said under his breath to Malakai. Malakai’s eight eyes met his. He nodded.

“One…two…THREE!”

Duke took off.

He got no farther than three steps before he felt something cold go through his belly. He choked and looked down. The pointy end of a blade jutted from between his ribs. Duke dropped his sword and clenched the bloody tip protruding from him.

As he fell, his eyes watery and the corners of his mouth trickling blood, he held Malakai’s gaze and felt the sword leave him.

“I’m sorry,” Malakai said, holding the hilt of the sword. “I’m so sorry. They are my kin. I can never be like you. My blood runs Arachnid.”

“No,” Duke said. He hit the floor.

On the other side of the screen, Maria whimpered. “No, this couldn’t have happened—”

The boy known as Duke pulled up his ghostly clothing. A black line, open and breathing, ran across his ribcage. It was a sword’s perfect fit.

“Turn it off,” Maria begged. “I can’t watch anymore.”

The boy nodded.

The screen appeared to be sucked back into his hand.

Maria turned her head away. Vomit was on the rise, or tears. Two things she absolutely didn’t want to come.

“What was the point?” she asked.

“Your music box,” Duke said.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“The music box is from the past. It is special.”

“Why do they want it?”

“Because it’s an answer,” Duke said. “An answer to the place where I am.”

“Where are you? You’re dead, right? Is it the afterlife?”

Duke grinned. He had a boyish grin, one that spelled trouble. “Not quite. For that is my goal—the afterlife. However, I’ve fallen into a place we on Oriceran call ‘the world in between’. A place where the living and dead roam, never aging, never living.”

“So, purgatory?”

“I do not understand,” Duke said.

“A limbo. A world between two states of being: living and dead.”

Duke nodded. “You are quite smart,” he said again.

From the bottom of the steps came soft growling. Pictures of the horrid Arachnids flooded Maria’s mind.

“It is only your dog,” Duke said. “Invite him up, for I do not bite.”

“Sherlock, come here, boy.” She made kissing sounds. “Come here.”

Sheepishly, Sherlock climbed the steps, his eyes never leaving the ghostly figure of the dead boy soldier. Once he reached the top of the steps, he growled, slinking between Maria’s legs.

“It’s okay, boy,” Maria said.

It is not okay. This boy is dead. D-E-A-D, Sherlock’s voice said in her head.

“Oh, my God, you can spell?” Maria said.

Dogs are smarter than humans.

“I wouldn’t go that far, Sherlock.”

“He’s a nice dog,” Duke said. He bent down and reached a hand out to Sherlock, but his hand passed through the dog.

“So back to the music box. Why are you showing me this?”

“Because a portal has been opened. The Arachnids desire that box, and they desire vengeance.”

“Vengeance for what?”

“For this,” Duke said, and he waved his hand again.

***

The image showed the throne room. The lead Arachnid hugged Malakai with all six of his upper arms. “I knew you’d come through.”

“Once a traitor, always a traitor,” one of the other Arachnids said.

“Quiet,” Korrion hissed. The other Arachnids slunk back into the dark, their red eyes glowing. “Now, let’s get this started.”

Quick footsteps echoed down the hallway, and a shadow on the wall grew taller and taller until it disappeared.

“Oh, my God,” Maria said, covering her mouth. “Is that—?”

“It is,” Duke said.

She returned her gaze to the blurry silver screen. She stumbled backward, hit the hallway wall and fell to the carpet.

Hey, I know him! Sherlock said.

Maria just watched with her mouth gaping.

The man who ran into the throne room dressed in the same garb as Duke, yet wearing armor over his sternum like a medieval knight, was Ignatius Apple, Maria’s grandfather.

“Unhand the box, Korion, and I promise to only chop off four of your arms.”

Korion smiled, then his mouth parted in a hiss, spraying hot saliva onto the floor.

“Never,” he said.

“You asked for it,” Ignatius said.

He charged forward.

“This is not how I’d pictured my grandpa,” Maria managed to say.

“It gets better, watch,” Duke promised.

Gramps stopped about five feet short. He said a word Maria didn’t understand, something like ‘Somedoi,’ and he thrust his sword into the carpet. A loud clink came, as a result from brick clashing with steel, but the sword burrowed into the stone, dimpling its surface.

The Arachnids brought their arms up to cover their faces, but they were too late.

An explosion of white light erupted into the hall, so bright Maria had to cover her face, worlds and years away.

When the chaos settled, the Arachnids were nothing but piles of ash. Maria counted three of them.

“Wait, where’s Malakai?” she asked.

The answer came in the form of a harsh scream.

Malakai sprang forward from out of the picture’s view. His soldier’s outfit was singed and hanging from his body in tatters. All six arms were exposed.

“Gramps, no!”

But Ignatius was fast. As if he’d heard her, he pulled his sword free from the brick and swung up to deflect Malakai’s. The sound their blades made upon meeting was painful to Maria’s ears.

Ignatius fell backward, rolling out of the way of Malakai’s strikes. Then he grabbed another sword and threw it. It sailed through the air and buried into Malakai’s thigh. It quivered like an arrow.

Malakai yanked it free then let a growl loose—one that sent goosebumps up Maria’s arms.

Gramps was up now, and charging at Malakai.

Their blades met again.

They sliced and diced at each other, hitting nothing but the other’s sword. This kept going until Gramps was backed up against the wall.

“You’re not one of them, Malakai!” Ignatius said.

Gramps, be careful! But it’s not ‘Gramps’—not yet. It’s Ignatius, Maria thought.

“I cannot deny my blood, but…” Malakai paused, looking toward the piles of ash scattered across the throne room. “I am bound by no species. All I crave is the power.”

“No mortal can control the world in between. Many have tried and many have died. You are no different,” Ignatius said.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I know the one. She will do it.” He stuck out his hand, wet with blood. “Now hand it over.”

Duke crept up, holding his ribs. Maria gasped.

Ignatius’s eyes wavered, but not for long. Not long enough for Malakai to realize the boy soldier was sneaking up behind him.

Duke jumped, screaming. He grappled Malakai’s neck and hung on like a cape.

Ignatius charged again. He sliced once, and the flesh of one of Malakai’s arms opened. Malakai yelled at the top of his lungs, causing Maria to shrink back.

Then Duke, already dying, let go.

As Ignatius raised his blade to put an end to the traitorous Malakai, the Arachnid rolled out of the way and grabbed Duke by the throat.

Duke cried out.

Maria was covering her eyes now.

“Why?” Duke wheezed. “Why?”

“NO!” Ignatius said.

The rage, the fury overtook him. He aimed the blade and swung again. This time he did not miss. He struck Malakai in the shoulder, and a burst of blood escaped the wound. Malakai shrank back and fell to the floor screaming.

He didn’t scream for long.

Ignatius made sure of that. He killed the turncoat Arachnid.

He then turned to Duke, and saw the extent of the damage to his body. “No, Duke, no,” Ignatius whimpered.

“T-Thank you. Thank you for all you have done for me.”

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything.”

“No, no, don’t say that,” Duke soothed him. Ignatius held him in his arms. Blood soaked their clothes. “You will save our village. You will survive the onslaught and protect the Queen Witch so she can bring the others home.”

Ignatius cried. Tears dripped down his smooth cheeks.

“No, I can’t lose you, Duke. You’re like a…like a son to me,” Ignatius said.

Duke smiled but said nothing.

“No, we can save you. We can! For the love of Oriceran, we can!”

“Do you hear that?” Duke said. His smile vanished. He lolled his head toward the door.

Screeching came from beyond it.

“There’s more. The Arachnids will not give up,” Duke said.

“No, no, NO!” Ignatius said.

“Go, Ig! You must protect the village; you must save them all. If they get the music box then it’s all over. We would’ve died for nothing.”

Ignatius stood up, cradling Duke in his arms. Duke was nothing but a sack of red-stained clothes. He looked like he weighed next to nothing.

“You’re coming with me then,” Ignatius said.

He went to the piles of ash and picked up the music box. He opened it, hearing the sweet melody within. From his hand came a burst of purple light, and the world seemed to shatter.

“What is that?” Maria found herself asking.

“It’s a portal.”

The screeching amplified. The sounds of thunderous footsteps followed.

“We must go, Duke. Are you ready?”

Duke was too hurt to answer.

Maria watched Gramps step forward into the tear in the world holding the music box.

The screen fuzzed out.

“That’s all?” Maria said. “Seriously, I was just getting into that.”

“It isn’t like one of your motion pictures,” Duke said.

No, it was better than most of the crap at the movies, Sherlock said, causing Maria to chuckle.

“That’s because all you get to watch is Days of Our Lives with Gramps,” Maria said.

Duke didn’t look at her like she was crazy; he looked at her like he understood.

“So what happened next? How are you here in front of me as a ghost if you escaped the battle?” Maria asked.

“Because,” Duke said, looking down at his transparent feet, “Something went wrong, as much did that day. I died on the way through the portal, and I was lost. Lost in the world in between.”

“Then how the heck are you talking to me?”

“You are special.”

“Oh, I’ve heard that from a guy before, but I think you’re a little too young—and definitely a little too dead—for me,” Maria said.

Duke didn’t smile. Apparently, senses of humor didn’t exist in the world in between.

“I’m here because you have the music box.”

“My grandfather had it before me.”

“But he does not have your gifts, Maria Apple.”

“Ha! Gifts? Yeah, right. Well…I guess I’m pretty good at popping popcorn, and warding off cute guys who may or may not have an interest in me.” She started counting with her fingers. “Then there’s the melting ice cream and the clown head…can’t forget about being the target of bullies—”

Duke shook his head. “I’m talking about your gift of communicating with the dead and those stuck in the world in between.”

“Okay, this is completely new. I’ve never communicated with anyone from the world between—”

“The world in between,” Duke corrected.

Maria waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah, world in between. Whatever it is, it’s new to me.”

“It shouldn’t be. Your grandfather can explain better.”

My grandfather, who is some interdimensional warrior from another planet that is inhabited by giant humanoid spiders.

“I’d explain, but we don’t have time.”

“Why not?” Maria asked. “You had time to show me almost an entire movie.”

“It was necessary. Many who’ve stumbled upon magic have had a hard time…coping.”

“I could see that, yeah. I guess I haven’t lost my imagination. Besides, if I tell anyone, I’ll end up in a psych ward. Mental institutes are full of those types of people.” She paused, then she brought her hand to her mouth. “Whoa, whoa! I wonder how many of those people aren’t lying!”

“Many,” Duke answered. He shook his head, and his semi-transparent brown hair flicked across his brow. “Now, back to the matter at hand.”

“Oh, God, here comes the crummy part,” Maria groaned. “The quest. The goal. The endgame. I’ve seen enough movies to know,” She was nervous—there was no denying that—and when she was nervous, and Sherlock was around, she scratched him behind the ears for comfort. She did so now, and Sherlock started kicking his leg, enjoying it.

Right there. Thank you, Maria, Sherlock said.

Maria didn’t notice; she was too invested in what Duke was about to say.

“There is more to the story than I was able to show you. But I saw it all, down the line, after I’d been suspended in the haziness of the world in between.”

“So you could only show me what you saw?”

Duke nodded.

“The lead Arachnid, Korion, was dead, but he wasn’t the leader. The Dark Forest is crawling with his kind. The leader hides in the shadows, spinning her web. She is a—”

“An even bigger spider,” Maria interrupted. She moved her fingers in a get-on-with-it gesture.

“More than that. She’s the leader of the beings from the Dark Forest who practice dark magic.”

“Oooh, dark magic. I’m petrified,” Maria said in a mock spooky voice.

“This is no joking matter. An entire village of people in the world in between is lost without you, Maria Apple.”

Maria gulped, the humor going out of her. “A whole village? You mean—?”

Duke nodded. “The village has been lost for a long, long time. But the concept of time doesn’t exist in the world in between. They are still as they were when the Queen Witch put them there.”

“Why would she do that? Put them in a place where the dead roam, and it’s all hazy?” Maria demanded to know. She curled her hands into fists.

“It was a form of protection. We were vastly outnumbered by the Arachnids. They wanted not only our blood, but our land, and the music box that now sits on your dresser, across from me.”

“Why? Why do they want the music box, if it is a way into the world in between?”

“Because they want to release the evil within that world.”

Maria shuddered. Her flesh broke out in goosebumps.

“They want to harness the power of the dead inside, and bring it to Oriceran. They want to rule the world.”

“So they want Oriceran, not Earth?” she clarified.

Duke nodded. He looked so much like a man it was unsettling. Amazing, the things war will do to someone, she thought.

“They do want Oriceran, but what would stop them from conquering Earth, too?” he asked.

The momentary relief that had come over Maria tightened into dread again.

“They’ll be no match for our military,” Maria said confidently. It was hard to believe her own voice, though. The truth was, she didn’t know anything.

Duke smiled. Now he looked like the boy he once had been.

Maria’s heart broke as she thought of the life he was supposed to have had ahead of him, all squandered by a treacherous Arachnid named Malakai.

“Magic is much stronger than bullets and bombs. Sure, your adopted people may manage to kill a few, but there are legions of them. Legions full of dark magic,” Duke continued.

He isn’t lying. If what your grandfather has been muttering in his sleep is true, then we are in for a world of hurt, Sherlock said.

Maria glanced at him. He nodded slightly.

Okay, this is too damn crazy.

“So what happened with the dark magic?” she asked.

“Malakai was raised from the dead. When someone dies and is brought back, all emotion goes out of them. They become very focused beings. Malakai has one singular goal, and he will stop at nothing until he gets it.”

“The music box?”

Duke nodded.

Suddenly, Sherlock’s head swiveled to the hall, in the direction of the steps. He stood up and growled, his hackles rising.

“What is it?” Maria asked, feeling fear quiver in her stomach.

A noise. Someone coming through the backyard. The gate is squealing, Sherlock said.

“Could be the wind,” Maria said uncertainly. Deep down, though, she knew.

“It’s him. He’s found you. I don’t know how, but he’s found you,” Duke confirmed. “You must go. You must find a safe place to hide. I shall visit you again. Go, Maria! Go!”

Maria didn’t wait around. She darted to her dresser and grabbed the music box.

Sherlock had started to bark.

“Gotta get Gramps,” she called and went down the flight of stairs two at a time.

She saw a dark shadow pass the curtains near the back porch. Her heart was beating frantically. The motion-detector light clicked on, and Maria didn’t linger. She turned down the hall and went into the living room. The soap operas were still on. Maria reached out and grabbed for her grandfather’s shoulder—

But there was nothing there.

She looked down at the empty chair in disbelief. It was just a pile of blankets and pillows. “That sneaky son of a bitch,” Maria said.

Sherlock sniffed the air and yelped.

Closer now, he said. We have to run.

Sherlock was right. She couldn’t let whatever this thing was get the music box, even if she didn’t know anything about a village called Dominion on a planet named Oriceran, or a dead boy trapped in a world in between. She saw Duke, and Duke was not a hallucination. No mind could bring up such vivid imagery. She believed now.

Maria went through the door that led to the garage.

“We need a ride,” she muttered in panic.

Gramps’s Firebird sat covered, and the keys were locked somewhere. No time to look for them. She didn’t have a car of her own yet, despite having had her license for three years. She was saving up, but pay at the Popcorn Palace was next to nothing.

Up against the far wall of the garage was a pink bicycle she used to ride around the neighborhood. It had fat white tires, a white wicker basket attached to the handlebars, and pink and white streamers coming off the grips.

“Not the most stylish option,” she admitted.

It’ll have to do, Sherlock yelped. He’s almost in—

An explosion rocked the back door. The ground thrummed, and Sherlock’s nails skidded on the concrete floor.

“Shit. Well, let’s hope I don’t run into Joe,” Maria said.

She hoisted Sherlock up and into the basket, where he did not fit at all, but it would have to do. Instead of opening the automatic garage door, she went out the garage’s side entrance. She felt an urge to look back over her shoulder, but she didn’t.

Once on the blacktop, she pedaled as if her life depended on it.

Which it did.

She would regroup, and then she would come for the son of a bitch who had threatened her and her family.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lost.

Malakai was lost.

The trail was lost.

All of it, lost.

That was the best way to put it. The Widow would be disappointed. Malakai had failed his master. He’d combed the northeast part of Ohio for weeks. Memories of an old life came to him in waves, and when he tried to shake them from his head, he couldn’t. The only explanation could be that he was close to Ignatius—so close that some form of magic triggered these repressed and dead memories.

But where is he? Where is the music box?

He hadn’t heard from the Widow since that night in the woods, since the night he had first killed. It was worrying him more and more. An emotion like worry wasn’t supposed to affect the dead, yet here he was.

It was getting to him so much so that he’d been seen by more than a handful of people; he had gone against his orders, allowing them to live, and those people had undoubtedly talked. The legend of the giant spider creature was loose; it was a train off of the tracks, but maybe that was a good thing. A little fear could help him out.

Except it wouldn’t help him find Ignatius or the box.

There was one final way, one last resort.

The Order of the Silver Griffins.

That was why he was here, in Akron. Some kind of magical explosion had happened at a putt-putt course called Downview. Malakai watched from the woods opposite of the course, which was closed. There were no lights on near the holes. One hole had been roped off with yellow tape that was marked in an earthling language Malakai wasn’t sure of. Despite all of this, two figures huddled nearby. They had small lights in their hands. One bent down and looked at a ruined husk of plastic while Malakai watched patiently.

“Accident,” Felah Fyre said. She was a newer inductee of the Order, but Tone was letting her take the lead on this case. The nerves were getting to her, despite this one seeming like it would be easy.

“Too late for Never Was, Never Will Be,” Tone said. He squatted down next to her. The pants he wore stretched at the seams. As he got lower, a half-eaten Ho-Ho spilled out of his breast pocket. He picked it up and shoved it into his mouth, cream smearing all over his cheeks and bits of brown cake collecting in his collar.

“Can’t you wait?” Felah asked.

Tone shrugged. “I’m hungry, besides, I’m not technically on the job. This one is all yours, rookie.” He clapped her on the back.

She growled at the gesture. Tone really loved to shove it in Felah’s face that she was new to the Order of the Silver Griffins. It seemed like everyone loved to do that. She was determined to prove that being new didn’t mean being useless.

As soon as word had reached their division about the detection of magic, Felah did some digging on her own.

She’d already figured out the perpetrator before they’d gotten to the putt-putt course. Most of it was luck. She knew Ignatius from Salem’s Ice Cream Shop; her and Salem went way back. The place had bitchin’ ice cream, that much was true, and Ignatius was apt to share all kinds of things about his granddaughter. First her bloodline with Oriceran and the village of Dominion, then her upcoming nineteenth birthday, which was today, and how he’d hoped she’d finally grow into her powers. He had a final last resort to give those powers a boost, though Felah didn’t know what it was.

Turns out that whatever it was had worked.

It could be the only explanation. No one else around these parts would do something as illogical as showcasing magic in front of humans.

“I’ve got a hunch,” Felah said.

Tone cocked his head at her and said, “Lunch?” crumbs falling from his mouth.

“Hunch. I know who did it.”

“Already, rookie? I’m impressed. Well, might as well make an example out of them and show the folks around here who’s the boss.”

“You want to send the perp to Trevilsom?” Felah said, heart skittering in her chest. “No, Tone, that’s—”

“The proper punishment,” Tone finished. He stood up and dug into his pocket, producing a roll of Lifesavers candy. Felah had only been on the job with him for about a week, but in that time he seemed to have eaten at least two grocery stores’ worth of junk food.

“No, Tone. It’s a new witch. That’s all. We can’t go around giving newcomers a death sentence for one mishap.”

“I can and I will.”

Felah rolled her eyes. Typical of Tone. He was a short fellow with a big gut, who suffered from a certain syndrome known as ‘Little Man’s’. What he lacked in height, though, he made up for in width.

“But she’s an important figure’s kin,” Felah said. The shock of sending Ignatius Mangood’s granddaughter to Trevilsom had worn off. Tone talked bigger than he was.

“I don’t care if it’s the Grand Wizard’s own wife. Rules are rules!”

“It’s Ignatius’s granddaughter,” Felah said.

Tone’s face went pale. He dropped the Lifesavers on the ground. They bounced like lost coins and fell into the darkness, gone forever. Or so Felah thought. Tone fell to his knees and tried to find them.

No luck.

Across the street where Malakai slunk low beneath the trees, the word ‘Ignatius’ floated over to him along the wind. His grip against a tree trunk tightened. He wanted to spring forward and kill the witch and wizard where they stood. It was the animalistic instincts kicking in—that, and technically being dead.

No.

He couldn’t do that.

He couldn’t kill them.

Not yet.

He watched. He waited.

“Best we go pay them a visit,” Tone said.

“Eh, I don’t know. I like Ignatius. He’s a good wizard, but he’s…” Felah trailed off.

“What?”

Felah shook her head. “He’s a little scary.”

“That old kook? No way. I’ll stomp him if he gets out of hand,” Tone puffed up.

Felah had heard about Ignatius’s past; how he was part of an army, but had almost single-handedly kept the Arachnids at bay. He would’ve succeeded if it hadn’t been for the traitor—the rogue Arachnid that Ignatius himself had found as a hatchling and nursed back to health.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Felah said. “He’d wipe the road with you, but that’s beside the point.”

Tone got up and brushed himself off. “Fine, we’ll just talk to him. We’ll just talk.”

***

The witch and wizard got into their car and drove out of Downview’s parking lot. Malakai had no problem keeping up with them, until the forest ran out and he had to run under the streetlights.

His appearance alone had caused three accidents, though none of them had been fatal.

“You all right?” Felah asked as they drove on. The two members of the Order were in Tone’s Honda CRV. The radio played Cream’s “White Room” very low.

Tone glanced over at Felah. His round face was still pale and a little sweaty.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. On his dashboard, he had clipped a picture of his youngest daughter. She was half Wood Elf and studying journalism at Ball State University. It was a funny thing: an Elf at a human college.

Absentmindedly, Tone stroked the picture. He missed his daughter, and the odd feeling that he was never going to see her again came to his mind.

“You don’t look it,” Felah said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Tone turned to look at her again, and as he did, he saw something move through Target’s parking lot. As he tried to focus in on it, he found nothing.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

“What? No, I was looking at you,” Felah said.

Tone stopped the car. The road was mostly abandoned.

He saw the black figure move again.

“There!” he said.

Felah followed Tone’s finger. She saw nothing. “Maybe you should let me drive the rest of the way.”

“I’m not crazy. I saw something.”

“Maybe it was just a bear,” Felah said.

“No way. There are no bears around here.”

“Maybe it escaped from the zoo.”

“What zoo? The only zoo around here is almost ten miles away. And the bear wouldn’t head toward Target, it would head toward the woods.” Tone shook his head. “Whatever. You’re right. It’s probably nothing. Let’s go.”

They arrived on Ignatius’s street about five minutes later. The house was dark.

“Not home,” Felah said. “Maybe we can go check out Salem’s.” She had a hankering for buckeye ice cream.

“Who eats ice cream this late?” Tone asked, then he chuckled. “Oh, that’s right. I do.”

“Have you had their ice cream? It’s, like, the best ice cream I’ve ever had,” Felah said.

“No, I haven’t,” Tone said, smiling. “Maybe we could have a cone or two…”

“Or ten,” Felah muttered under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Let’s go,” Tone said, grumbling.

Tone shifted into drive and began to pull back out onto the street when the black shape crossed the view of their windshield. He slammed on the brakes, sending them forward, Felah almost bashing her head in on the dashboard.

“There! Did you see that?” Tone shouted.

Felah was rubbing her head. A knot had begun to form. Great, she thought, sarcastically just before school pictures. Mom’s gonna kill me. Then she shook her head. Man, I’m losing it. I've been out of school for years.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw it,” she affirmed.

“It went around the house.”

“Tone, if it’s a bear, we should call the proper authorities. Like bear patrol or something. Ow, God, can you not slam on the brakes next time? I need all my brain cells.”

“Wear your seatbelt.”

“I’m a witch; a witch in the Order of the Silver Griffins, at that. I don’t need to wear my seatbelt.”

Tone chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Come on, let’s go check it out.”

They both got out of the car. Fear seized Felah’s heart. You can’t fear. You’re a Silver Griffin. You can handle any and everything that comes your way. Still, her hand slipped into her sleeve and pulled the wand hidden there closer to her grip. Bear or not, this is your job, isn’t it? They headed around the back of Ignatius’s house. Not a single light seemed to be on. The streetlight overhead, which was the sole source of illumination, flickered and went out.

Tone stopped and looked at Felah as if to say, ‘let’s go home, leave this one alone.’

Felah shook her head. She may be a rookie, but she wasn’t backing down from darkness. It was her job to investigate illegal uses of magic and, by Oriceran, she was going to do just that.

She walked on.

Tone whispered, “Wait up.”

Felah turned the corner around the house. She had a view of the Apples’ backyard. The grass was wild and overgrown, sunflowers lolled lazily in the wind, and a smattering of quirky toys (probably left by that weird old Ignatius Apple) had been left on the back porch.

“Pig-sty,” Felah muttered.

“There’s nothing. Let’s go,” Tone said.

Felah smiled and started laughing, mostly because she allowed herself to be spooked. Over what? Nothing. “Lonny and Calan aren’t gonna believe it!”

“Huh?”

“That Tone is getting shown up by a rook! I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when I tell them you practically wet your pants over shadows!” Felah slapped Tone on his fleshy back. His face was still pale, but she could feel the heat baking off of him. He was pissed. Perfect.

“I’m not scared!”

“Yeah, you are. You’re practically shaking in your Keds!”

“Stop it, rook!”

Felah waggled her index finger. The weight of the situation and the darkness seemed very far in her head. “Ah-ah. Here, I’ll make you a deal. You stop calling me ‘Rook’ and ‘Rookie’ and ‘Fresh Meat,’ and all those other lame pet names meant to demean me for being new, and I won’t tell anyone about your little…episode.”

Tone’s mouth twisted into a snarl, but he was silent, weighing his options. “No one ever listens to a rookie!” Tone said.

Felah kept smiling at him.

After a moment, he relented. “Fine.” Then with emphasis, “Felah.”

“Ah, I like the sound of that. My own name. How sweet it is coming from your lips—” She stopped abruptly.

“What?” Tone grunted.

Felah looked to her right at the tree line near the back of Ignatius’s yard. She heard a noise there, much like the one a man named Sean had heard in an Ohio forest not many days before. A rustling, then heavy footsteps snapping loose branches.

“Someone’s there,” Felah said. She stood a little straighter and brought her wand from her sleeve. “Show yourself,” she commanded loudly.

They watched the tree line.

Nothing came out.

“Show yourself and we’ll—”

The rustling she had heard came back, this time behind her, coming from the street, and it turned into thunderous footsteps. Before she could turn around, the Arachnid already had Tone in its clutches.

She aimed her wand, which was slick in her sweaty palm, and tried to speak a simple spell of protection, but the words wouldn’t come out.

The creature roared — a terrible sound of metal raking against metal. The stench that radiated off of it was somehow worse than the sound escaping its fanged maw. Tone was not fast enough in conjuring a spell. The spider grappled him with with six arms and ripped him in half. A rain of blood sprinkled Felah’s face, and she took off before it could drench her.

She ran across Ignatius Apple’s yard, where the high grass came up to her waist. She looked over her shoulder. All her magical knowledge disappeared from her mind, replaced with one thing—the most important thing: Survival.

She was nearing the other end of the yard, which ended at the neighbor’s fence. Felah prepared to vault it, her muscles readying for the jump. Something tripped her up. She never saw what it was, but it banged against her toes. Three of them broke. She felt no pain.

“Not good,” she panted. “Not fucking good at all.”

She pulled herself up. The air was still, the night quiet—though Tone’s dying scream would never leave her head. She looked around, but there was no Arachnid. It was gone.

Then the grass began to rustle.

“No,” she wheezed.

The Arachnid came at her on all eight of its appendages, scrabbling. Fast. Faster. Felah...

Fast.

Faster.

Felah screamed.

No one heard her.

She ran up Ignatius’s porch, not understanding why one of her feet felt numb and tingly. The back door was locked.

The Arachnid’s growling revved.

Closer.

Closer.

She made the classic mistake; she looked over her shoulder.

It was gone.

“Get ahold of yourself.” Felah scolded against the door. Tears streamed down her face. She aimed her wand at the door. Breaking and entering by way of magic was a horrid offense, but dying was worse. She said the spell. A burst of light escaped her wand, aimed at the doorknob. It exploded against the metal, charring it and denting the frame.

Then the roar came.

Slick, hairy legs wrapped around her throat. The wand missed the knob and hit the door instead, creating a charred divot.

Felah tried to scream, but she couldn’t. The legs squeezed tighter and tighter. The night got blacker and blacker.

No one ever listened to a rookie.

***

Malakai did not crave her blood like the others of his kind. A dead Arachnid had no bodily needs. He only wanted her wand.

He picked it up and wiped the crimson from it on his chest.

With the wand, he could cast his spell. He could change.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Maria pedaled to the only place she thought her grandfather could be at that hour. Salem’s Ice Cream Shop.

Gramps spent a lot of his time there. Maria didn’t know why. She pictured him eating ice cream in the throes of another dreadful Ohio winter, and she laughed.

“Should I call the cops?” she asked Sherlock, who was sitting in the basket connected to the handlebars, his mouth open, tongue and ears flapping. Asking a dog for advice, how wonderful, she thought.

No, if you call the cops, they will be killed. You saw what those things are capable of.

Maria nodded. She didn’t want any blood on her hands. But what if it wasn’t a giant walking spider, but a burglar instead? Or even someone in need of help? The cops could surely handle it, couldn’t they?

No, Sherlock said, as if he was reading her mind. We have to get to your grandfather before Malakai does. Pedal faster, Maria! Pedal for your life.

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” Maria said, out of breath. She spoke quietly. “We really oughta cut back on the Purina.”

Are you insinuating that I’m fat? Sherlock asked.

“Let’s just say your glory days are over.”

Maria turned down West Avenue. The streets were empty. She stuck close to the shadows on the sidewalk out of fear the giant spider would see her.

They can probably see in the dark, she thought. They are creatures of the night, aren’t they? At least, on Earth they are.

Still, she didn’t risk it.

When she arrived at Salem’s, seeing the sign wasn’t lit up, her heart sank.

“He’s not here,” Maria said.

I can smell him, Sherlock answered in her head. I smell the cough drops and those terrible vitamins he takes. Keep going.

Maria pedaled.

As she got closer, she was able to make out a faint light in the backroom of the ice cream shop.

The smell is stronger now, Sherlock said.

Maria parked her bike around the back and took Sherlock out of the basket. With the other hand, she cradled the music box to her chest.

“I don’t have a leash, but you’re not going to run away on me, are you, Sherlock? I don’t have time to put up ‘LOST DOG’ posters all over town.”

Maria, I think it’s fair to say my running days are well behind me.

Sherlock walked to the back door. Maria tried to peer in through the window, but the inside was hazy with smoke. Another odd image popped into her mind: her grandfather smoking a joint with a bunch of his friends, reminiscing about the good old days.

Just as she raised her hand to knock, the door opened. Standing in the threshold was Salem Crumpet, manager and owner of Salem’s Ice Cream.

“Oh, howdy, Maria, wasn’t expecting you,” Salem said.

She poked her head in, eyes trying to cut through the smoke. Not marijuana but tobacco smoke coming from old-time Hobbit pipes.

“Is that the pizza guy? If it’s Gary, don’t tip the bastard!” someone said.

“Gramps?” Maria said.

“Maria?”

Sherlock barked.

“Sherlock? What in Oriceran is going on here?” Gramps demanded.

Maria shimmied past Salem and bounded toward her grandfather. She hugged him. “Oh, it was so scary,” she said. “You’re never going to believe what happened to me.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have a hard time believing,” Gramps said. They parted. “Now, speak, child. Tell us what is wrong.”

“Boy troubles?” Salem asked. “If it’s boy troubles, we’ve been known to get rowdy from time to time, and we won’t hesitate to defend your honor, Maria.”

Maria shook her head, smiling. It felt good to have people watching your back.

“No, not boy troubles. Well…”

“School? Job? You tell us,” Gramps said, “and we’ll fix it. You have my word.”

“It’s Oriceran. The giant spider from the Dark Forest. His name is Malakai, and the dead boy named Duke visited me, and I can somehow talk to Sherlock. Not to mention blowing up the clown head at Downview while we were putt-putting—”

“Slow down, child,” Gramps said. He took her hand. “Did you say ‘Malakai’?”

Maria nodded, putting the music box in the middle of the table. The Muffler twins gasped, seemingly coming out of nowhere and spooking Maria.

Gramps patted the empty seat next to them.

“Start from the beginning,” he urged.

Maria did.

***

“But that’s impossible,” Salem said.

An old woman next to him named Agnes Crenshaw shook her head. “Nothing is impossible these days, my dear. I believe the child speaks true.”

Gramps got up and hugged Maria. “My little girl is all grown up. She’s a witch now.” He wiped a gleam of tears from his eyes.

Maria pushed him away. “Oh, Gramps, not in front—Wait, did you say witch?”

He nodded.

There was five of them in total and now they all nodded, too. “So I didn’t hallucinate any of that stuff? It…it was all real?”

Salem nodded. Agnes nodded. Gramps nodded. And the Muffler twins nodded as well.

“I saw you,” Maria said to Gramps. “I saw you when you were younger. You wore a military uniform with armor, and you fought a giant spider-man. How the hell is that not a hallucination?”

“There’s much you don’t know about Ignatius,” Salem said. “He was Dominion’s bravest warrior. When the conflict between the village and the Arachnids got heated and lesser men backed down, Ignatius refused.”

Maria found herself smiling, proud of her grandfather.

“Of course, now he’s nothing but an old fart,” Salem added. The table broke up in laughter and Gramps gave Salem the finger.

Sherlock barked, but inside Maria’s head, it sounded like a chuckle.

“This is too weird,” she said, shaking her head.

Gramps put up his hand and the rest of the group quieted. He had a certain magnitude that seemed to ooze out of him now, one Maria never noticed before.

“I may have been a great warrior, but I was a fool. It was my idea to hide the village in the world in between. I’d forced Zimmy Ba, the one you know as the Queen Witch, to hide them, and because of that, we lost twice that day.”

Salem patted Gramps’s back.

“It’s okay, Ig, it’s okay. If what your granddaughter speaks is true, then there’s hope yet.”

“Yes, and hope is a good thing no matter what planet you’re on. Oriceran or Earth,” Agnes added.

Maria’s gaze shifted to the music box. She reached out and opened it. Everyone’s eyes flicked to the ornately decorated wooden surface. Even Sherlock stood on two legs, resting his front paws on the card table to get a better look.

The sweet melody rang out in the chilly air of the backroom at Salem’s.

“Ah, that does bring me back,” Fredrick Muffler said.

“Me, too,” said his twin sister, Ginny.

When the music stopped, everyone seemed relaxed, including Maria.

“Tell me more,” she said.

The senior citizen ice cream brigade did.

***

“ ‘Apple’?” Maria said. “You couldn’t have picked a more common last name? Really anything besides ‘Apple’. Do you know how much I’ve been made fun of because of that last name?”

“When the portal threw me and the music box out onto the street in the middle of broad daylight, a cop came up and asked me what the hell I was doing in the middle of the street dressed like Sir Lancelot, and why I had a baby in my arms; I panicked.”

“Ha!” Salem said. “ ‘Panicked’. The old geezer known as ‘the Calm Storm’ panicked. I love this story.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gramps said. “Laugh it up.” He gave him the Oriceran equivalent to flipping the bird— he flared his thumbs out to the side while the rest of his fingers were in a fist.

He continued. “A young woman was on the street corner. She sat behind a cart full of fresh apples, selling them for a very reasonable price. I glanced at it with the corner of my eye after the cop asked me for my identification, and came up with that last name because it seemed very reasonable as well. I’d said I left my identification in my regular clothes. The cop said if he saw me in the street again, acting like a jackass and holding up traffic, he’d write me up a fat ticket and call child services. Then, he said Halloween ain’t for a few months. Naturally, the last name stuck as I got my new life in order.”

“But ‘Apple’? C’mon, Gramps.”

At least it’s not as bad as ‘Sherlock,’ the dog said.

Maria glared at him. “Thought you liked that name.”

It’s a little too…cliché. I’ve always wanted something more badass, like ‘Killer’ or ‘Macho’.

“But you’re not badass. You don’t even bark at squirrels anymore. You just sniff the dead ones, and let the cars and power lines do the dirty work for you.”

That’s beside the point.

Maria rolled her eyes, and then looked around the table. No one seemed to have paid any mind to her having a conversation with her dog. Yeah, too weird, she thought.

“I didn’t see you with a baby when Duke showed me what happened,” Maria said, wanting to get back to the story. She felt safe in the ice cream shop, surrounded by people who understood.

“That was because the first time I portaled out of the throne room, I’d gone back to Zimmy’s hideout.”

“The Queen Witch,” Maria said.

Gramps nodded.

“May she rest in peace,” the Muffler twins said at the same time.

“What did you find?” Maria asked.

Gramps lowered his head, but a smile came across his face. I found…you.”

“Me!?” Maria said. “What do you mean?”

“The Arachnids had found the Queen Witch’s hideout. She was powerful, but no being is a match for hordes of Arachnids—especially Arachnids whose very blood runs as dark as the magic they use. She sacrificed herself to save a child, the last infant in our village—my granddaughter. When I’d gotten to the cave and I saw the light, that glowing blue orb of light, I rushed toward it. Luckily for me, she’d killed all the Arachnids before she herself passed on.”

“So when Duke went through, you were portaling to the Queen Witch’s hideout?” Maria asked.

Gramps nodded. “Yes. I had the music box, and only she could access the world in between with it. She was my daughter, I had to save her. But I was too late, and there you were, protected by her spell, in a bubble of pale blue light, smiling with no teeth as if nothing happened. I left the cave, clutching you to my chest. The smoke was thick, but I could still see the fires burning all over the village. I could see the Arachnids scouring the land, ruining everything. I could see that we had lost, and that I had no choice but to leave.”

“But Duke?”

“I’d thought I’d already sent him to Earth by way of the portal, but sometimes things go wrong. On that day, a lot of things did. Duke landed in the world in between, where he died the moment he entered the portal.” Gramps hung his head.

Salem patted him on the back. “There, there,” he said. “It’s not all bad. Now we have Maria.”

“You’ve always had me,” Maria said.

“A year too late, I’m afraid,” Ginny Muffler said.

“Oh, be quiet, you,” Agnes said. “There’s no negativity in this house of ice cream.”

“What does she mean?” Maria found herself asking. She had so many questions that she found herself asking whichever one popped into her head first.

“She means,” Gramps began, “that you were supposed to come into your powers last year, at the age of eighteen. Had we been on Oriceran, I think you would’ve… or perhaps even earlier.”

“A late bloomer,” Agnes soothed, “is better than a no-bloomer.” She smiled and stroked Maria’s hair. “Welcome to the club.”

“Hear! Hear!” Salem said, raising his mostly-empty mug. “To Maria Apple and her future.”

They all raised their glasses, clinked them together, and drank. Sherlock barked.

“I still have so many questions,” Maria said.

“We all do,” Gramps said.

“The village. Duke said they are still alive but are trapped in the world in between,” Maria said.

Gramps nodded. “I feared that.”

“ ‘Feared’?” Maria said, cocking her head.

“Sometimes I think it would’ve been better for them to have died in the battle. The world in between is a harsh limbo. I cannot even imagine what such a thing does to one’s mind.”

“Why wasn’t I hidden?” Maria asked.

“Because,” Gramps explained, “you were the Queen Witch’s daughter. She knew that if we lost, you would be the key to getting them out; though I did not realize that myself until much later.”

“Me?” Maria said, breathless. “Holy shit, what a day. You know that’s a lot of pressure to put on someone? Saving an entire village, and all that.”

“Not only that,” Salem added. “If whatever attacked the house was Malakai, or another agent of the Arachnids, it might be up to you to save the world.”

“Oh, geez—” Maria began.

“But it can’t be Malakai,” Ginny Muffler said. “He’s dead.”

“And I thought I was safe here,” Gramps sighed. “Such a fool I’ve been.”

Maria reached for the buckeye ice cream on the table, which was half-melted and not hers. She spooned it greedily into her mouth.

“Not just one world,” Agnes amended. Her crazy gray hair shook when she spoke. “But possibly two worlds. Oriceran and Earth are getting closer and closer to lining up; if we don’t stop this thing soon, chaos will reign over them both.”

“What about the Silver Griffins?” Fredrick Muffler asked. “Do you think we could ask for protection?”

Agnes shook her head. “No, they don’t pick sides. As long as there’s magic in the air, they’ll throw anyone in Trevilsom.”

“Damn,” Fredrick said. “I need more ice cream.”

“Me too,” Ginny said.

“Another round,” Salem said, taking a big drag from his pipe. The smoke smelled sweet, unlike tobacco or anything Maria had ever smelled before.

Oriceran weed, she thought, shaking her head.

“Why was I a late bloomer? Why did it take so long for the magic to come to me, and how the hell do I control it?” Maria asked.

Good questions, Sherlock said. I’d love to stay and find out the answers, but I’ve really got to pee.

“You know where the bathroom is. You’ve been here before,” Maria whispered.

Uh, I’m a dog. It doesn’t work like that.

“You talk like a human, so go to the bathroom like a human,” Maria said.

“Is Sherlock giving you trouble?” Gramps said. “Oh, what I’d give to hear him talk.” He bent down and rubbed the Bloodhound on the back of his neck. A look of pure enjoyment overtook Sherlock’s droopy face.

“Thought you had to pee,” Maria said.

No, no, this is too nice.

When Gramps finally stopped petting him, Sherlock let himself out, nudging the door open with his nose.

Gramps continued to answer Maria’s questions.

“Sometimes, away from the magic of Oriceran, things go wrong. It’s a fact of our magical lives. I’d given up waiting for you to come into your powers. A year had passed without any sign of your abilities. On Oriceran, a week late is considered a late bloomer. Oriceran and Earth are connected, they are sort of like siblings. So a year was far too long, and I’d given up hope. That, I shouldn’t have done, Maria. One thing to remember in your life is to never give up hope. Never give up hope at all, even when all else seems lost.”

“But then you gave me this,” Maria prompted, motioning to the music box.

“Yes. So many years had passed that I tried to put that horrid part of my life behind me. Then your birthday came up, and I figured it would be the perfect gift. Even if you never knew it was your mother’s, it was only right for you to have a piece of her legacy. Deep down, I didn't think it would bring this much trouble to you. I should’ve warned you.”

Maria put her hand on her grandfather’s and squeezed. “Don’t worry about it, and thank you,” she said.

Sherlock returned, looking a few pounds lighter after emptying his bladder.

“Now,” Gramps’s tone changed. “We must prepare you.”

“Prepare me?” Maria asked, not sure what that could mean.

“Yes,” Salem said, cutting in. “Each person is trained on Oriceran. Trained to harness their magical abilities.”

“Oh, God, we’re not gonna have one of those ‘80s movie montages, or something, are we? Like in Rocky IV, right before he fights the Russian?”

Gramps laughed. “No, Maria. It’s going to be much more difficult than that.”

***

They left the ice cream shop about an hour later. The conversation was light and there was much laughter, but Maria still couldn’t believe what was happening to her.

The moment of truth arose on their way home.

Salem dropped them off at the house, with Maria’s girly bicycle in the trunk, and Agnes in the front seat.

They approached the house cautiously, like cops during a drug raid.

“It came from the back door,” Maria said.

Agnes, Gramps, and Salem went around to the back, leaving Maria in the front under the cover of darkness until it was safe.

Sherlock sniffed around in the grass nearby.

“Smell him?” she asked.

No, but I smell something.

“What?”

I think someone dropped a piece of candy in our front yard while walking down the street. Life Savers. Maybe a hot dog, too. He continued sniffing, going over the yard like an old man going over the beach with his metal detector.

“You’d really eat one of your own kind?” Maria teased.

Sherlock stopped sniffing and perked up. Eat one of my own kind? What do you mean?

“Hot dog. What the heck did you think it was made of?”

Meat?

“Dog meat,” she said with a  straight face.

No! She could almost hear Sherlock gasp in her mind.

“Yes. Sorry to disappoint you,” Maria said. “Now come back over here and wait until we’re in the clear. I could probably take this Malakai bastard by myself, but I don’t want to upset Gramps.”

Dog? Really? How cruel you humans are!

It was a lie, of course, but Maria didn’t think she was far off. Who really knew what they put in hot dogs?

“Safe,” Salem’s voice called.

“All right, let’s go,” Maria said. “And stay away from the food scraps. I’ll feed you when we get inside.”

Sherlock perked up. Purina again, I suppose?

“Hey, if you’re lucky I might let you have some of the leftover birthday cake from Claire.”

Sherlock whipped his tail around. The mention of birthday cake made him seem five years younger.

“Oh, shit, it’s chocolate. Dogs can’t have chocolate.”

Sherlock lowered his head. Just my luck, he said.

“Kidding!”

Oh, you punk! He let out a playful bark.

“Come on, let’s go.

They went around the back. Salem and Agnes were studying the door while Gramps sat in one of the wicker chairs on the back porch, rubbing his knee.

“Whoa!” Maria said.

There was a mark on the metal that looked like a giant had punched it.

“He did not look that big in Duke’s movie thing,” Maria frowned.

“Yes, the Arachnids are quite big in comparison to humans, witches, and wizards. The comparison to Gnomes is even more breathtaking,” Agnes said.

“Gnomes? Like the little garden gnomes you see on people’s lawns?”

“No, much different. And should you ever see one, don’t mention garden gnomes. It really pisses them off. There’s a legal battle that has been going on for centuries about those little ceramic bastards,” Salem said, shrugging.

“Good, I hate those creepy things. Every time I see one, I just want to throw it off the roof and watch it shatter,” Maria said.

Agnes grinned as if she agreed.

Salem studied the door closely.

“He really did a number on it,” he confirmed. “But I don’t think he got inside. He must have sensed you and been scared away.”

Sherlock sniffed around the threshold. He’s right, I don’t smell anything beyond.

“Sherlock says we’re in the clear,” Maria said.

The porch creaked as Gramps got up. “Can never be too safe,” he said. He began to sing. It was in the strange language that came from the music box, which was tucked under Maria’s right arm. When Gramps hit the last note, the house disappeared, revealing everything inside of it: their refrigerator, couch, television, and toilet.

There was no giant spider.

“Wow,” Maria breathed.

The others looked at her with confusion.

“Oh,” Agnes realized. “Magic, right. It’s all new to you.”

“This is hands-down the craziest day I’ve ever had. I’ve been up way too long. I think I’m hallucinating. Did the house just turn invisible?”

Gramps laughed. “Something like that. But it’s nothing compared to what we can do.”

“Especially after we recharge with some ice cream,” Salem said, slyly, elbowing Agnes.

“Ice cream? I’ve never heard that one before. Maybe Gatorade or Wheaties. But ice cream? I think I’m going to like this whole magic gig,” Maria decided.

“Not just the ice cream,” Gramps said. He put his arm around Maria. “Ah, there’s so much for you to learn, my dear Maria. So much.”

“Well, teach me,” Maria said.

“In due time. You have made it quite clear that you have had a rough day. You need rest. Tomorrow, you and I shall look at all this with a fresh perspective.”

Maria nodded. “Just tell me why it’s ice cream, then I’ll go.”

Damn you, Maria, I’m tired.

“Can it, Sherlock,” she said.

“Salem’s Ice Cream Shop is built over a kemana—a place where magic flows like water from a river. We go there to recharge our abilities because magic is scarce on Earth, unlike on Oriceran. There’s a reason that whatever business takes that particular spot does so well. It’s because us magic folk—and there are a lot more of us than you think, Maria—always come in and buy whatever they’re selling,” Gramps said.

“A disguise, of sorts,” Maria said, catching on.

Salem nodded. “Exactly. I’m thankful it’s ice cream this time and not a spa, like it was back in the eighties. Oh boy, how weird did us men look going to get our feet massaged and our toenails trimmed?” He laughed.

“Well,” Gramps said, “thank you all so much for the help. I had a wonderful time with you guys.”

Agnes leaned down and kissed Gramps on the cheek, and Maria saw him blush.

“If you need us, call. We’ll keep a close eye on the place,” Agnes promised.

“Yeah, we will,” Salem agreed.

They turned to leave, and for the second time that day, Maria felt like her family had grown bigger.

CHAPTER NINE

She awoke to the sound of her alarm clock braying.

“Aw, come on, you bastard. Just five more minutes,” she grumbled. Then she remembered she was magic, and tried to will herself to blow the clock to smithereens with her mind. With anything.

Nothing happened.

“Guess it doesn’t work that way,” she sighed, disappointed.

‘You have so much to learn, my dear Maria,’ Gramps had said the night before—the very weird night before.

Sherlock snored at the foot of Maria’s bed, undisturbed by the loud blare of the alarm. She rolled over and hit the snooze button.

Another day at the mall lay ahead of her.

“Magic or not, that popcorn ain’t gonna pop itself,” she said.

Sherlock twitched, his paws moving with whatever canine dream he was having.

Dream… Maybe I dreamt all of that last night? she wondered.

Then Sherlock’s voice filled her head. Are you going to stare at me all day while I sleep, or are you going to get up and fix us some breakfast? One eye opened.

Maria laughed. “Ah, wasn’t a dream.” She got out of bed, went into the bathroom, showered, brushed her teeth, and then got dressed. She noticed in the mirror that she looked a bit different. Her hair seemed darker, shinier. Her body was more curvy, yet tight with muscle. She flexed. Her bicep didn’t bulge like a female bodybuilder’s, but it was there, visible.

“I never work out with the weights, only hit the boxing bag. This must be…magic,” she laughed at her own joke. Then she stopped. “I’ve gotta quit talking to myself.”

Get out of the bathroom and talk to me, Sherlock suggested. Over some leftover cake…like you promised.

“I’ve also got to stop talking to my dog,” she contended. “People are going to think I’m crazy.”

After she was done admiring her look in the mirror, she went downstairs to the smell of bacon and eggs. Gramps was already up. Like most people in the twilight of their life, he woke at the crack of dawn. He sat near the stove, a spatula in one hand and the newspaper in the other.

“Morning, Maria,” he said, not looking up from the paper. There was a look of concern on his face. He wore a more-wrinkled-than-usual brow, and squinted eyes.

“Morning, Gramps,” she said.

“Sleep all right?”

“Weird dreams. Not to mention Sherlock here kept kicking me.”

Sherlock sat near the refrigerator, waiting for the cake.

“I’m going to give him some cake for breakfast,” Maria said, almost as if she needed permission. Sherlock was her dog, after all. She didn’t need permission to feed him junk. And now that she could understand him and communicate with him, she thought of him as more than the family canine. He was now cemented as an eternal friend.

“Sure, sure,” Gramps said. “It’s his funeral.”

Sherlock growled at Gramps and threw him a nasty glance. Bacon isn’t much better. Talk about clogging the arteries.

“He says bacon isn’t good for you, either,” Maria said.

“Oh, well, it’s my funeral,” Gramps said absently. “You work today?”

“Wouldn’t be up this early if I didn’t. Another day in hell to look forward to.”

Gramps’s face turned serious. “Maria, you mustn’t let anyone know about your abilities. They are going to keep coming, and coming fast, taking you by surprise. You must be prepared for that. But we don’t want the Silver Griffins to be suspicious. It’s best we handle this situation on our own. They could get in the way of what we have to do.”

“What do we have to do?” Maria wanted to know.

“We have to go to Oriceran. We have to teach you the ways of magic. We have to open a way into the world in between.”

“All while not getting killed or losing the music box to this giant spider-man, right?”

“Him, I’m not worried about. He won’t strike the house again, now that he knows we know he’s after us.”

“How does he know?”

“You fled and he followed you, I’m sure.”

Maria shivered with the thought of a giant spider chasing her through the dark streets of Akron while she pedaled her girly bicycle.

“If he wanted to get into the house, he would’ve. But he must’ve sensed that the music box was gone.”

Maria needed to sit down. “Wow,” she said. “I was this close to being killed by an alien.”

You’re going to be killed by a dog if you don’t feed me soon, Sherlock growled.

The refrigerator’s door opened, and the cake fell to the floor. Nobody had touched the fridge or the cake. It just moved on its own.

Gramps smirked. “Oughta shut him up for a few hours. Two minutes of gobbling the cake down, and then a two hour food-coma nap.”

“Will I be able to do stuff like that? You know, move stuff with my mind?”

“I believe you will be able to do so much more than that, Maria. You are of a special kind. Your mother would be proud.”

That was an odd sentiment. Maria had never known her mother, but the thought of actually meeting her someday had crossed her mind, only it was in the afterlife.

Still, Maria, there’s plenty of people who are not dead. People you can save. People you have to save.

“It looks like our friend Malakai isn’t being as careful as I thought he’d be,” Gramps ascertained. He handed the newspaper to Maria, and she read the small headline in the community section.

LOCAL BUSINESS OWNER SPOTS GIANT SPIDER.

Beneath it was a short article about the number of calls flooding the Akron Police Department, all of them reporting sightings of the same giant spider. The sightings were always at night and, though the descriptions were sometimes off, one thing remained true throughout…the people who’d seen it reported glowing red eyes.

“Ew, I don’t want to read that,” Maria said, pushing the newspaper away.

“It’s important. Malakai is no fool. Dead or not, he’s dangerous. He knows people have seen him in his true form. In order to prevent future instances, he’ll use a cloaking spell to disguise himself. He could be anyone. He could even be me…” Gramps said.

Maria eyed him. “Don’t, Gramps,” she said firmly.

“I’m just warning you. You must be cautious. Agnes, Salem, and the Muffler twins will look out for you, but we can’t be there to hold your hand every step of the way.”

“I wouldn’t want you to. I’m nineteen. Giant spider-men don’t scare me. I can take them.”

Gramps smiled with his perfect white dentures. “Ah, you are so much like your mother, Maria.”

“My mother, the Queen Witch,” she tried the words in her mouth. “How weird.”

They ate their breakfast, and Sherlock polished off the cake, leaving blue icing around his lips. Maria didn’t bother telling him about it, because that made it funnier.

She threw on her work apron and went outside to wait for Claire to pick her up. Even on days when Claire didn’t work, she’d swing by, driving the two miles to Maria’s house, and give Maria a ride. When Maria insisted that Claire didn’t have to do that, Claire would just shake her head and say, ‘That’s what friends are for. Plus, I just love driving. If we were to ever rob a bank, I’d want to be the getaway driver.’

“Oh, Maria!” Gramps called. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Maria looked back, confused.

Sherlock walked slowly to the door, feeling dejected that Maria had forgotten him.

“Sherlock?” Maria said.

“It’s for the best, since you two are on talking terms now. You and Sherlock have always been connected. You communicate on a plane of reality not many Oricerans can reach.” He smiled, his eyes hazy with memory. “Just like your mother.”

“Well, this is certainly not the reaction I was expecting. I was expecting more of a ‘Hold-on-Maria-while-I-call-the-psych-ward,’ but I’m glad to be wrong.”

Gramps chuckled. “If talking to a dog is considered crazy, then we should’ve been in the loony bin a long time ago.”

Claire honked the horn again. She didn’t want to be late.

“Well, c’mon, Sherlock.”

I’m coming, I’m coming. Need to walk off this cake.

“You need to learn self-control.” Maria opened the door and gave Claire a wave. Claire didn’t wave back. She scowled.

I’m a dog; there’s no such thing as self-control.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She leaned over and kissed her grandfather on one cheek. “I’ll be back a little late tonight. I’m going to go to the gym and do some kickboxing. Gotta get fit if I’m gonna beat up any Arachnids.” She grinned, but Gramps didn’t think it was funny. She rolled her eyes. “Kidding, kidding. Just need to blow off some steam.”

“Just be careful, Maria.”

“I will.”

Outside, Claire wailed from the driver’s seat, “Aw, not the smelly dog again.”

I just ate almost an entire cake. She’s really going to hate me.

“Plug it up, Sherlock.”

If only.

“Don’t worry,” Maria fibbed, “he hasn’t had breakfast yet.”

“Really?” Claire said. “Because it looks like he’s about to blow.”

Maria glanced down at Sherlock. He looked about eight months pregnant.

“No worries,” she said. Then to Sherlock, “You’d better hold it in.”

They drove to the mall with all the windows down, but it didn’t do much to cover the stench.

I tried my best, Sherlock whimpered.

Maria ignored him.

Claire parked the car. “Ah, another day in hell—I mean, paradise.”

Maria chuckled.

“You go ahead. I’m gonna walk Sherlock first. I’ll see you inside.”

“You should just keep him out here. Tie him to the tree or let him loose in the dumpster. I bet he’d love that.”

Sherlock’s tail thumped the back seat.

I would. I really would. Imagine all the Chinese food they throw away on a daily basis!

“No, sir; you’re stuck with popcorn today, Sherlock.” Maria opened the door and got out.

“Popcorn?” Claire asked. “That can’t be healthy.”

Maria shrugged. “Hey, it’s technically a vegetable.”

Both girls laughed. Claire went in the Employees Only entrance while Maria walked Sherlock.

“Smell anything?”

Only that delicious dumpster and some stale tobacco smoke.

“Good. Yesterday, a creepy guy was watching me from the parking lot.” Maria shivered.

Who was it?

“I’m pretty sure it was Duke. It definitely wasn’t a giant spider.”

Sherlock lifted his leg and marked his territory on a row of bushes. A landscaper was trimming the other end of the bushes. He looked up and gave Maria a glare.

“Sorry!” she said sheepishly, waving her hand. “Great,” she muttered to Sherlock. “Now not only am I on a giant spider’s shit-list, but I’m also on Gary the gardener’s. Today is shaping up to be just peachy. Try not to piss on anyone else’s roses, please.”

No promises.

“You finished?” she asked, exasperated.

Yeah, I could use some popcorn.

Maria sighed. “It’s just gonna be you and I at the Popcorn Palace today. Beth comes in at four to replace me. I doubt Ted will even show up; if he does, you have to hide or act like you’re a stray. Shouldn’t be too hard, considering how much you smell.”

If you ever go blind, I’m going to volunteer to be your seeing-eye dog, and I’m going to lead you right off a cliff, Sherlock said.

“Aw, that’s so sweet. But know I’m taking you down with me.”

Sherlock stood up on his hind legs and gave Maria a kiss. One giant,wet swipe of his tongue.

“Love you, Sherlock.”

I licked a dead squirrel this morning, just so you know.

“Bleh,” Maria said, swiping the dog spit from her face. “I take back everything good I’ve ever said about you.”

Oh, wow, three sentences. That’s mighty fine of you, Maria.

She tugged on the leash. “C’mon. Popcorn isn’t going to pop itself.” Then she remembered yesterday how the popcorn kind of did pop itself, and she shook her head, thinking, Magic.

***

It was a normal day at the Popcorn Palace. Rolling Hill Mall’s business was going down the drain. Weekends were all right, but on weekdays, hardly anyone came in. Not to mention that the popcorn place opened at ten in the morning, with the rest of the stores. Who in their right mind wants popcorn this early?

The only people walking around the mall were the senior citizens decked out in their workout gear — running shoes, sweatpants with the reflective stripe down the side of the leg, sweatshirts and headbands, odometers around their necks, and fresh coffee in their hands. They were the walkers. No, not walkers as in ‘zombies,’ but walkers as in ‘the folks who walked laps around the mall’.

Maria didn’t mind them. They were always friendly, and most of them were interesting—except for the occasional creepy old guy who’d offer Maria a ride on his Harley or his boat. Yeah, I’m totally going to hop on the back of a Harley with a guy three times my age that I barely know.

So far today, no creepy old dudes had bothered her.

Claire stood outside of the Sephora store, passing out coupons to the walkers. Most refused them, and others grabbed them out of courtesy, but as soon as they turned the corner, they crumpled them up into little balls and tossed them into the trashcan.

Sherlock lay by Maria’s feet. All the morning work was done. Popcorn had been popped, cotton candy made (which Sherlock loved, by the way), kettles cleaned, stock list for the night person written—all of it, done. Now she just had to wait for her shift to be done…in five more hours.

“I don’t think people who are part-magic should have to be bored like the rest of society,” she mused.

Don’t get too big for your britches, Maria, Sherlock warned. You may have the ability to use magic, but you’re not supposed to.

“I know, I know. Silver Griffins and all that jazz. But I used a lot of magic yesterday, and didn’t see any of those.”

Maybe, Sherlock said. They’re always watching.

“Only one way to find out.”

No, don’t do any magic. Gramps said—

“Can it. You’re not my babysitter—”

“Uh, excuse me, are you talking to yourself?” an old woman interrupted their bickering. It was the same customer Maria had chased down the day before after Ted had ripped her off.

Maria smiled, feeling the heat of embarrassment burn her cheeks. “Uh, yeah, I was. You know, gotta psyche myself up to keep going.”

“How sweet,” the old woman said.

Maria nodded and smiled. “Well, what can I get for you today?”

“Oh, dear, I don’t want anything. I had to stop by to pick up my glasses,” the old woman said. She motioned to the reading glasses hanging around her neck on a ball chain. “I wanted to see if you were here, though. I can’t express my gratitude enough for going out of your way yesterday and bringing my correct change back. If my husband was still alive, I don’t think I would’ve let that mean man swindle me like that. Surely, Earl wouldn’t have let it happen.” She looked away, toward the napkin dispensers on the front counter. “But Earl’s been dead two years now, and I’m sort of lost without him. We were together for fifty-three years.”

Maria reached out and put a hand on top of the old woman’s. “I’m sorry."

“Thank you.” She put her large purse on the counter and began rummaging through it. There were no other customers in sight, so Maria didn’t mind.

“Here,” the old woman said, pulling a tray covered in Saran wrap out from her purse. How she fit that inside, Maria didn’t know. Old women’s purses were a wonder that way; a certain type of magic not even the people of Oriceran would understand.

Smells good! Sherlock said.

Maria scooted him away from the counter and back between the ice chest and coke machine, where she laid out a makeshift bed made of coats she’d gotten from the lost and found bin.

“Can it,” Maria whispered.

The old woman pushed the tray across the counter. “For you. I made them for you.”

Maria felt her heart swell with adoration. Growing up with Gramps, the home cooking, naturally, had been odd. Those weird recipes featuring tree root and mud now made sense, but it didn’t make the memories anymore pleasant.

“Brownies and cookies,” the woman offered with a smile. She had kind eyes.

Maria leaned over the counter and hugged her. “Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you, young lady. Doing the right thing goes a long way in this world.”

Or in any world, Maria thought, because there are other worlds besides Earth.

“And not many people seem to do the right things these days. You gave me hope. Hope has not been around much in my life since Earl passed.”

Maria took a cookie—peanut butter—broke it in half, stuck one half in her mouth, and slyly let the other drop in front of Sherlock. He ate noisily.

“I’m glad I could help,” Maria said, around a mouthful of cookie. “Delicious, by the way.”

The old lady smiled and stuck her hand out. “My name is Prudence George.”

Maria took her hand. “Maria Apple. Nice to meet you.”

“I’ll think I’ll be around more often, if you’re working,” Prudence said. “My doctor says I need to get more walking in. But my tired old bones say otherwise.” She winked at Maria.

Maria, laughing, stuck another cookie into her mouth. It was chocolate chip, and it was delicious in that special way a grandma’s homemade cookies always were.

“Well, I must be going,” Prudence excused herself. “Thank you again for all your help.”

“Thank you for the goodies!” Maria enthused.

Maybe today isn’t turning out so bad, after all.

Ooooh, Sherlock mocked, jolting Maria out of her daydream, I’m Maria Apple and all the old folks like me. Oooh.

“That’s it. No more treats for you, Sherlock,” Maria said.

Aw, what? I was just kidding. Pleeeeeeease? he begged.

Maria rolled her eyes, broke off a piece of another peanut butter cookie, and gave it to Sherlock. “Fine. Only if you promise to let me know when you have to go to the bathroom.”

Sherlock didn’t answer in words. Instead, he barked. It was now a weird sound to Maria.

“Gosh, I’m actually getting used to my talking dog. Maybe I should check myself into the loony bin,” she said.

CHAPTER TEN

At about noon, Maria locked up the safe and the cash register to take her mandatory fifteen-minute break. The first of the two she was entitled to by Ohio state law. She wasn’t really hungry, but Claire was on her break, too, and really had a thing for the cute Chinese guy who worked at Panda Express. She’d always get fried rice and bourbon chicken, but then rarely ever ate it.

That was all right. If she did it today, Maria would just give it to Sherlock. That damn dog was more vacuum cleaner than canine.

“Hey, Kenny,” Claire greeted her crush, waving.

Ken Cho looked up and smiled at Claire. Maria felt the sparks, and as soon as Ken turned his head, Maria started to make kissing noises.

“Cut it out,” Claire said, mortified.

“Oh, you did it to me yesterday with Joe.”

Claire grimaced. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“Whoa! Did Claire actually apologize? Someone call the historians. That’s a first!”

“Not funny,” Claire said, elbowing her. “Come up to the counter with me. I don’t want to go by myself.”

“Okay, but make it snappy. I’ve only got about thirteen minutes now.”

Sherlock walked by them. Hardly anyone even gave them a stare. Some of the food court employees actually called out to Sherlock, and he walked around like he owned the place, strutting like a model on the runway. The guy who was passing out free samples of Chicken California at Charley’s Grilled Subs gave Sherlock one, and he sat and even gave the guy a handshake. The dog was in heaven.

“What should I order?” Claire asked.

“How about some lo mein with a side of orange chicken?” Maria suggested, knowing that Claire wouldn’t end up eating it, and Maria would basically get a free meal.

“Yuck. Orange chicken? Chickens aren’t orange…are they?”

Maria shrugged. “They could be, you know, if you painted it.”

Claire snorted. “You’re hilarious, Maria. Absolutely hilarious!”

“I’ll be here all week,” Maria said, bowing.

They got to the counter. Ken went out of his way to take Claire’s order. Claire ordered the usual—fried rice and bourbon chicken—which was not Maria’s favorite. She was sure Sherlock would help keep it from going to waste, though.

“Heard about what happened to Kaylee at the golf course,” Ken said, scooping rice into a styrofoam container. “Wish someone would’ve gotten it on video.”

“Yeah! That would’ve been awesome,” Maria agreed.

“It would’ve gone viral, probably. Amazing how all those people were there and they didn’t bother to record it,” Ken said. Now, he moved to the bourbon chicken. It looked like rat meat, and Maria wasn’t absolutely sure she could say it wasn’t.

“Yeah, you should’ve been there,” Maria said. “If only Claire would’ve—Ow!”

Claire elbowed her. Her face was beet red.

Ken grinned. He was no dummy; he knew Claire had a thing for him, and he seemed to have a thing for her, too.

“Listen, Claire,” he started, as he slid down to the register and punched in the total. “I was thinking maybe you’d want to hang out sometime?”

Claire smiled and swiped her bangs off of her brow.

“Maybe go see a movie, or get dinner or something. Definitely not Chinese food.”

Oh, he’s smooth, Sherlock observed. I like him.

“Cute dog,” Ken added, looking down at Sherlock.

Oh, now I might love him! Tell Claire to say no so I can go out to dinner with him. Mention an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Maria nudged Sherlock, and he stopped.

They all waited for Claire’s response. None of them seemed to breathe, except maybe Sherlock who had taken to sniffing around the Dairy Queen next door.

“Claire…?” Maria prompted.

Claire looked up. “Oh, yes, that’d be great. I’d really like it. Maybe we could even go play putt-putt.”

“Yeah, but leave me out of that one,” Maria said. The three of them laughed. A lady behind them tapped her fingers on the counter, waiting to pay for her noodles.

Maria moved out of the way, grabbed a napkin and a pen from behind the register, and wrote Claire’s phone number down on it.

“Here,” Maria said, handing him the note, “since she seems to have her tongue tied at the moment, this is her number. Text her sometime, and you two can make plans.”

Ken scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Okay, thank you!”

He handed Maria the receipt and a couple of fortune cookies. Maria took them and put them on the tray. She had to drag Claire off toward the dining area. Claire mumbled and smiled and looked all sorts of flustered. Really, Maria just wanted her to get out of there before Claire blurted out something weird or deal-breaking.

They sat down at tables on the opposite side of the food court, near a GNC Sports Nutrition store.

“Oh, my GOD!” Claire squealed, fanning her face. “Can you believe that?”

After learning she wasn’t from Earth and she had the ability to talk to her dog and do magic, Maria thought she’d be able to believe anything.

“Thank you so much, Maria. It felt like my lips were frozen.”

“Well, I can’t be there on your first date,” Maria said. “So you’re on your own on that front.”

“Or can you?” Claire said, slyly.

Sherlock jumped up onto the chair next to Claire and sniffed her food. Claire was in such a good mood that she didn’t even sigh in disgust or push him down.

Yeah, it was turning out to be a pretty good day, indeed.

“Listen, Claire, I need to tell you something.”

“It’d better not be that you have a crush on Ken.”

“Ken? No. C’mon, you know who I like.”

Claire pointed up and grinned. “Speak of the devil.”

Maria’s stomach dropped. She turned around and saw Joe walking over to their table. He had a tray of food from Sbarro’s Pizza, and a smile on his face.

“Stay calm, stay calm,” Claire said.

“How do I look? Please tell me I don’t have any cotton candy in my hair or popcorn oil on my shirt.”

“You look great, Maria, don’t worry. In fact, you actually look a little—”

“Mind if I sit here?” Joe asked.

Claire didn’t answer. She was waiting for Maria.

It took Maria a moment to realize that Joe had asked her the question, and when she did, she didn’t stumble, which was unusual. “Yeah, of course,” she said.

“How are you ladies today?” Joe said, still smiling. On his tray were two big slices of pepperoni pizza. Put them together, and they’d be big enough to take up about half of a large one topping.

“Good,” Claire said.

“Never better. Another day in the paradise that is Rolling Hill Mall,” Maria said dryly.

Joe chuckled.

“Yeah, tell me about it. Usually the early shifts are quiet, but I’ve already had to chase two—that’s right, two—shoplifters out of Macy’s and JCPenney,” he said.

“Catch them?”

“Got one, but the other guy was so fast, I swear he could’ve been on the Olympic track team or something…or it was just too early for running.”

Maria chuckled. It was a sound she used to fill the void of conversation. She didn’t want any awkward pauses.

“So, did you have a good birthday?” Joe asked.

Oh, please don’t mention what happened at the putt-putt course, Maria pleaded silently.

When he didn’t, Maria replied. “Yeah, it was pretty good. A little weird, but that makes things interesting.”

Claire flicked a glance at Maria and Maria had to turn away because she was smiling.

“That’s good to hear. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything,” Joe said. He took a big bite out of the pizza. The pepperoni juice rolled down his chin, and he quickly wiped it away with a napkin.

He seems…nervous, Maria thought. He’s never seemed nervous before. It’s kind of cute.

“Ah, don’t say that,” Maria said. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I’m not much of a present person. Plus, I hate surprises. I’ve gotten enough surprises over the past twenty-four hours to last a lifetime.”

Claire and Joe both looked at Maria like she was crazy. Maybe she was; she didn’t know for sure. All of the previous day had seemed real.

“Well, listen, since I didn’t give you a present—but I did write on your Facebook wall, by the way—” Joe interjected.

“I never check that stupid thing. The internet scares me.”

“It’s a scary place, I agree.”

“But thank you for writing on it. I’ll have to check it soon…if I remember the password.”

Joe nodded. He smiled again. It was a nice smile; one that sent tingles all over Maria’s body. “Anyway, since I didn’t get you a birthday present, I was wondering…”

Claire leaned closer, a grin on her face.

Maria felt her stomach tighten around the flapping of butterflies.

“I was wondering if you wanted this piece of pizza?” Joe finished.

The chair squeaked and grated on the shiny mall floor as Claire sat back, disappointed. Maria, on the other hand, wasn’t. In fact, she was a little relieved. She wanted every moment she and Joe spent together to be perfect. Sitting at a table in a crappy mall with crappy Chinese and Italian food in front of them, with a dog to her right who she could hear speaking inside of her head wasn’t exactly her definition of perfection.

“I just noticed you didn’t have any food, and everyone else does. Even the dog has been chowing on Stir Fry 88. I figured you wouldn’t want to be left out.”

Maria nodded. The humor of the situation was starting to hit her. “Uh, yeah, I guess if you’re not going to eat it.”

Joe smiled. He took one last bite from his slice and passed the tray to Maria.

Maria started to finish it off.

“But that’s not really what I wanted to ask you,” Joe admitted.

Claire leaned forward again.

Sherlock announced, This one is a tease. I don’t like him.

Maria rolled her eyes and instantly regretted the gesture, hoping Joe didn’t think it was directed at him.

“I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go out this weekend. I don’t know, maybe bowling or dancing or something,” Joe said. He scratched the back of his neck. His face flushed the slightest bit, making his smooth skin look sunburned.

Screw everything she’d thought earlier. Joe could ask her anytime and it would’ve been the perfect time.

Everyone waited, holding their breath.

“Maria?” Joe asked nervously.

A decent amount of time had passed, but Maria had hardly noticed.

“Earth to Mariaaaaaaa,” Claire said, then leaned over the table and flicked her ear.

“OW!” Maria grabbed her earlobe.

The world came back into focus, all of it spinning in a dizzy, lovely haze. “Yes,” she said, quietly. Then louder, “Yes! Yes, I’d love to.”

“Really?” Joe’s jaw dropped. He almost had to pick it up off of the floor.

“Yes, really,” Maria said, suspiciously. It took her a moment to realize Joe wasn’t kidding, that this was actually real. When she did, she took a napkin out from under the paper Sbarro plate and wrote her number down.

“Just text me later and we’ll make plans.” She scooted her chair away from the table. “Gotta get back to the popcorn place. You know, serve that big line of people.” She motioned to the kiosk near the entrance of the food court. The neon lights were on, but there wasn’t a soul in sight waiting for a bag of delicious, homemade-recipe caramel corn. There probably wouldn’t be for a long while.

She stood and called to Sherlock, who was busy trying to get a pea from the fried rice that had fallen under Claire’s tray.

“I’d better get back, too,” Claire said.

“Thanks again for the pizza,” Maria said to Joe. “And text me.”

He smiled dreamily. “I-I will.”

As Claire and Maria walked back to their stores, Claire was practically hyperventilating. “Oh, my GOD! We should go play the lottery or something!”

“What, why?”

“We bagged both of our crushes.”

“Oh, stop. ‘Crush’ is such a girly word. Don’t use that.”

“Whatever. You should’ve seen yourself. It was like…like you were on fire!” Claire said. She glanced over her shoulder. “He’s still there. He’s looking down at the napkin you wrote your number on and practically drooling.”

“Quit it!” Maria said, but she wanted to look, too. She couldn’t. She believed if she did, she’d ruin all the magic—funny choice of words, Maria—that had stolen over her and given her the courage to say yes and actually write her phone number down on the napkin. So she didn’t look back. Instead, she just let the magic guide her.

***

Two o’clock came, and the customers didn’t.

Claire kept walking up to the counter and messing with the cup of pens and office supplies Ted kept by the cash register. Each time she did, Maria wanted to tell her about what she’d seen the previous night. The dead boy named Duke and the magic he’d used to show the past to her. It was crazy, though, and she feared Claire wouldn’t believe her. Maybe Claire would even think it was so crazy she’d tell Tabby, and the two of them would just up and quit being Maria’s friends all together. She didn’t want that.

So she let time go on as it always did in the mall: slow and grueling.

Around 2:30 p.m., Danny Harris from Auntie Anne’s Pretzel, across from Sephora, threw a frisbee at Maria. She had been sitting there, playing Twenty-One Questions with Sherlock, when she saw the disc whirling through the air, accompanied by Danny’s, “Heads up!”

Maria caught it and looked at it as if it were a UFO.

“Throw it back, bozo,” Claire said. She stood outside of Sephora. She wasn’t handing out samples because there was no one to hand samples out to.

Maria smiled and let the frisbee fly. It soared through the vacant air. Danny caught it with ease. “You ready, Claire?” he shouted.

Claire jumped up and down and yelled, “Hit me!”

The pass was a little high. Claire missed it, and the frisbee clattered across the glass makeup counter with an uproarious sound. Maria cringed, thinking about broken glass and other possible damage Claire would have to pay for out of her paycheck, but when she came back with the smile still on her face, all those thoughts went out the window.

Claire passed it to Maria, who was now laughing and jumping, and then Maria to Danny. They even got the workers from Journeys shoe store in on it, though they only threw it a few times before a customer had to come and spoil the fun.

Sherlock complained, This is not fair. We never throw the frisbee.

“Because you’re too fat to go chase it,” Maria said. “No offense.”

Offense! Offense has been taken! Sherlock huffed and went back to eating old popcorn kernels from under the ice chest.

“See?” Maria said under her breath.

The frisbee game went on for about fifteen minutes.

Then Maria heard a voice like a wicked lash of lightning. It was Ted, her boss.

“Maria Apple!” he scolded. “What in the good holy heavens are you doing?”

Maria smiled sheepishly.

Ted’s eyes flickered to the blue frisbee in her hand. She quickly hid it behind her back, but the damage had already been done.

Ted isn’t supposed to be in today; he’s supposed to be attending to family matters in Cleveland. But Maria was slowly realizing that there were no family matters in Cleveland. He had lied in the hopes of catching her doing something wrong, and what do you know? He did.

“You are supposed to be one of my best workers. I am supposed to be able to trust you!” Ted said. “How can I trust you when you play games instead of see to your work?”

“Mr. Gund, everything’s done, and there haven’t been any cus—” Maria started.

“Because they’re too afraid of getting their head lopped off by your damn devil disc!”

All eyes were focused on the Popcorn Palace. Maria could feel them. She could also feel the anger welling up inside of her.

In all of Ted’s upheaval, he hadn’t noticed Sherlock. He probably would have continued to not notice Sherlock, if the Bloodhound hadn’t lifted his leg just then and marked Ted’s brown loafers.

“What the fu—” Ted bellowed.

A steady trickling hit the floor, and Ted shook his foot. Inside, his socks made the sounds of feet squelching in mud.

The anger left Maria now, and it was replaced with an odd sort of humor. She moved the frisbee in front of her face, to cover her red cheeks and laughing grin.

Serves you right, asshole, Sherlock was saying. You’re lucky that’s all I have in the tank.

“Out!” Ted said. “Out NOW! You’re FIRED!”

“Fired?” Maria said softly. She looked over her shoulder at Claire, who was covering her face with both hands, possibly on the verge of tears.

“Yes, fired. Get out of my sight. I never want to see you again.”

“Wow, Ted. I thought you’d forgotten about my birthday, but I’m fired, and that’s the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten!”

Ted was shaking. He looked like he was about to explode.

Maria walked past him, a smile on her face. “C’mon, Sherlock. Let’s get out of here.”

Sherlock barked in approval and trotted behind her.

Maria turned around and flung the frisbee toward Ted. It didn’t hit him, but it scared him fiercely. He jumped and almost lost his balance.

She hadn’t bothered saying, ‘heads up’.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Outside, the day was nice. Sun lit the trees in golden light, and there was a light breeze that took the edge off of the heat.

Not long after Maria heard the front doors shutter closed (she was technically not allowed to go through the Employee Only door anymore), Claire’s heeled shoes came up behind her.

“That was…AWESOME!” Claire said. “You should’ve seen the look on Ted’s face.”

“If I never see Ted’s face again, I’ll be perfectly fine,” Maria replied. “Besides, he may be a total douchebag, but we were throwing around a frisbee, and I did have a dog in the kiosk with me. Imagine if the health inspector had shown up, or something. They would’ve condemned the whole place.”

“I don’t care. Rules are meant to be broken; insert rebel yell here…Wueeeee, as your grandpa might say. And it was still fucking cool as hell.” Claire patted Maria on the back. “I’m starting to look up to you. Normally, the friend who has the car is the cool one, but you are just turning into something else.”

Maria’s smile melted, her features going serious. She grabbed Claire by both wrists and said in a low voice, “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Claire, sensing something wrong, arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story, and I know you don’t have much time before you get in trouble with your own boss…”

Claire rolled her eyes. “You know, you actually inspired me. Maybe I should quit next; then we can get Tabby to quit her job at the dry cleaners. We just have to come up with something as badass as having a dog pee on our boss’s legs. I mean, wow! The old Maria would’ve rolled over and started kissing Ted’s feet once anything to do with being fired came out of his blubbery lips.”

Claire was gushing. It was a trait that carried over from high school. Gossip, gossip, boys, boys, boys, ‘I think Mr. Fawn is out to get me’—that kind of stuff. Conversation Maria hadn’t ever been too fond of.

Maria held up a hand. She had to tell her best friend what was happening to her. Claire would, if it was her. They told each other everything. Whether Claire believed it—well, that was up to whatever gods the beings of Oriceran prayed to.

“Claire,” Maria said, her voice deadly serious, “I’m not the same Maria.”

“What?” Claire replied, rolling her eyes. “Was the real Maria abducted by aliens, or something?” She leaned forward and knocked lightly on the top of Maria’s head. “Hello in there. Do you come in peace? Do you want me to take you to our leader?” She said the last part in a robotic voice. “I don’t know who I should take you to, actually, now that I think about it.”

“Claire!” Maria said. “Seriously, I need you to listen to me.”

Claire took a step back. “You’re not joking, are you?”

Maria pointed to her lips, which were set in a grim line. “No, I’m not. This is serious, and both of our lives might depend on whether you believe me or not.”

“Well, that is just way too unfair right there,” Claire said.

“Can I tell you or not?”

“Now, I’m not sure I want to know.”

She’s an alien, wooooooo, Sherlock said. Maria ignored him, though that was probably the best and most simple way to put it.

Somewhere in the parking lot, a car horn honked.

It was a nice day, but Maria would be lying if she said she hadn’t gotten goosebumps.

“Okay, I want to know,” Claire said.

“Let’s go to your car.”

“All right, but if you’re an alien, I’m going to pepper spray the shit out of you.”

Maria smirked. “If I’m an alien, how do you know I’m not immune to pepper spray?” She turned and walked to the Kia Rio parked in front of the Honeybaked Ham, leaving Claire on the sidewalk.

When Maria noticed Claire wasn’t following her, she said, “Oh, c’mon, I’m just kidding!”

“About being an alien?”

“Well…”

***

Eventually, Claire opened the Rio. She looked on edge. Maria tried her best to ease the previous night’s discovery into the flow of conversation, but she probably shouldn’t have started with, “Last night, I saw a dead boy.”

Claire slid in her seat, reaching for the door handle.

“No, no, no,” Maria said. She grabbed Claire’s arm. “Not like a ghost…well—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Claire said. “Where’s my pepper spray?” She sounded like she was joking, but Maria didn’t want to push it.

“I can prove it,” she said.

“Prove that you saw a ghost?”

“Not that, exactly. Okay, okay, let me backtrack. Let’s start small.”

Claire waited with anticipation.

Maria smiled and patted the middle console. Sherlock put his two front paws on it and stood in the middle. “Okay, here,” Maria said, “small.”

“Small,” Claire repeated.

Maria took a deep breath. “I can talk to Sherlock.”

Claire burst out in laughter. “Okay, okay,” she said, holding her stomach. “This is too much.”

“Sherlock, nod so Claire knows it’s true.”

Sherlock nodded.

Claire tilted her head. “That’s nothing,” she said. “Simple dog tricks.”

“You’re right,” Maria said, looking at the Bloodhound.

“I always knew you and that dog were a little too close…”

Tell her to open her mouth so I can sniff what she had for breakfast, Sherlock suggested. I am a Bloodhound, after all.

Maria nodded. “I think I’ll leave out that last part.”

“Huh?” Claire said.

“Oh, I was talking to Sherlock, sorry.”

Claire shook her head. “If you and Joe end up going out, you really gotta ditch the dog. Hey! Why is he all over me like that?”

Sherlock was up in her face sniff-sniffing.

Oooh, eggs. Sunny side up, and wheat toast with strawberry jelly on top.

Maria repeated what had come into her head by telepathy, by magic.

“Huh?” Claire said.

“It’s what you had for breakfast. Sherlock just told me.”

The color in Claire’s face drained. Now she looked like a piece of blank computer paper. “What—how? How did you know that?”

“I just told you. I. Can. Talk. To. My. Dog.”

“You must’ve been spying on me or something.”

Maria took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m gonna show you firsthand. And everything that happened to us last night will make sense. Well…as much sense as it can make.”

“I’m scared,” Claire said, brushing her dark hair out of her face. It didn’t sound like she was kidding.

Suddenly, Maria brought her hand up and flicked Claire in the ear. The sound it made was a meaty thump.

“OW!” Claire said. She grabbed her ear. “What the fuck was that for?”

Maria didn’t answer. Her hand came up again, and she flicked Claire in the neck, then under the chin, and then on her arm.

“Seriously, stop it!” Claire said, moving her hand from one spot to the other. Her neck was beginning to turn red. She didn’t have enough hands to cover all the targeted spots.

Maria sighed. She hadn’t wanted it to go this far, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She flicked Claire in the spot. Right in her chest.

Claire wailed and, finally, Maria got the reaction she wanted.

Claire lashed out and smacked Maria full on the face.

Slap!

It stung like hundred bee stings.

Maria expected it and took it. Her face grew hot.

Claire’s face was twisted into something gruesome. She looked like that last girl in Friday the 13th,, after she’d been put through the ringer.

Now Maria felt her arms growing as hot as the smack on her face. A humming vibrated throughout her body.

The bright sunshine streaming in through the Kia’s windshield disappeared, and was replaced with the blue glow of Maria’s skin.

Claire’s mouth opened and her jaw dropped. “What…what the fuck?”

Maria grinned despite the pain in her face.

“What is happening?”

Maria closed her eyes. She felt time and space run over her and through her. She felt the magic.

Suddenly, a harsh movement came from Maria’s left. Claire had the car door handle. She couldn’t take what she was seeing.

My best friend has turned into something out of DC Comics, Claire thought, freaking out. She wanted to scream, but the fear of the situation, the surprise—all of it—closed her throat.

“Wait,” Maria said. And even her voice sounded different, Claire realized. It was deeper, commanding. The type of voice someone like Wonder Woman would have.

“You know you’re glowing?” Claire found herself saying.

“Yeah. It’s called magic.”

Claire’s mouth opened to say bullshit, but how could she say that? The proof was right in front of her. She needn’t look any farther than the glowing blue skin of Maria Apple, sitting in the front seat of her Kia Rio.

“Magic?” she said instead.

Sherlock barked from the backseat, as if in agreement. That was weird, too weird.

***

When Maria finally stopped glowing, Claire had forgotten all about her shift at Sephora.

“So you’re a magical alien?”

“At least partly,” Maria answered. “You know how my grandpa is a little…off?”

“A little?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, all that stuff about a planet called Oriceran is true.”

The reality of the situation had started to settle over her. Pictures of dollar signs, bags of money, bars of gold, the TV appearances, the memoirs (My Best Friend is a Magical Alien: The True Story of Midwestern Weirdness), and everything else that came with the fame of knowing an honest-to-God extraterrestrial hit her.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Maria said.

Claire started. She felt like she’d been caught doing something bad. Exploit my best friend? No, I could never do that. Maria was more than a friend, when it came down to it. Maria was part of her family.

“You’re thinking you should call the police or the government, and they should lock me up in Area 51 so they can run tests on me, or whatever.”

“Not exactly,” Claire allowed.

“Oh. I know what you’re thinking…” Maria tried again.

Claire found herself hiding a smile. Once the initial shock of the situation wore off, they were best friends again, and Claire wouldn’t hold the flick to the chest against Maria. They laughed again.

“Real nice,” Maria said, “thinking of banking on my gift.”

“More like deformity,” Claire said.

“Don’t make me flick you again.”

Claire flinched. “Okay, so how does the fact that you glow blue sometimes play into you almost crushing Kaylee and her gang of hyenas with a clown sculpture?”

“Hey, I don’t think it would’ve crushed her—maybe given them a concussion, or something, but definitely not killed them.”

“Too bad,” Claire said.

Maria hit her playfully.

“Well, from what I’ve been able to glean—”

“English, please,” Claire said.

“Read a book or something, geesh.” Maria raised a finger. “And don’t you dare say ‘LOL’.”

Claire motioned with her hands, making an ‘L’ shape, then an ‘O’ shape, and finally another ‘L’ shape.

Maria sighed, and then explained, “What I’ve been able to understand is that the magic only comes to me when I’m angry. Though Gramps said I’ll be able to control it eventually.”

“Is that what you want?”

“To be different?” Maria asked. “I guess I’ve always been different and I haven’t noticed it.”

Yeah, you can talk to your dog, Sherlock said.

Maria ignored him, a smile playing on her lips.

“Yeah, it’s what I want. Ignatius Apple raised me the right way. And that’s to always help out when you can. Right now, I can.”

“What do you mean?”

“Long ago, there was a battle fought between the village I came from and creatures of the Dark Forest.”

Claire held her hand up. “Whoa, Dark Forest? What’s next, a trail of bread crumbs and a house made out of candy?”

Sherlock barked. Yes, please.

“Yeah, I thought the same,” Maria said to Claire. “But the people of that village were tucked away into a world in between our worlds.”

“By that, you mean Oricer-e-an and Earth?”

“Oriceran,” Maria corrected, “but yes.” Her skin was back to its usual peachy color, although the buzz of magic in her head hadn’t subsided. “It’s a purgatory, I guess; a place where the dead and the living can get stuck. There was a Queen Witch who used this,” she pulled out the music box that she had tucked away in her pocket, “to open the way into this world in between.”

“Wait, Queen Wi—”

“Don’t,” Maria interrupted. “It’ll get weirder. Apparently there are Gnomes and Elves, and all kinds of magical creatures Tolkien or the Brothers Grimm made famous. And some of them live right here on Earth!”

“Like that movie Men in Black with Will Smith, back when he was a total knockout.”

Maria thought about the movie, about the aliens hiding in plain sight. “Yeah, kind of like that. Except, from my understanding, most of the Oricerans seem like they’re on the good side.”

Claire looked at the clock on the radio, its numbers roughly translating to, ‘YOU’RE LATE, GETTING CLOSE TO BEING FIRED’. She tried to speed the conversation up, but, naturally, there was no speeding up Maria. She’s just like her grandfather when it comes to telling tales.

“Except for one,” Maria went on. “His—or its—name is Malakai, and he was a double traitor.”

“And, let me guess,” Claire jumped in. “He’s out there and he’s after you.”

“Close.” Maria paused dramatically. “He’s after the music box. Gramps and Salem think he wants to find his old crew in the world in between.”

“Salem?”

“An old wizard my grandpa hangs out with at that ice cream shop.”

Claire nodded. “Oh, yeah. Bunch of weirdo old people hang out there, I forgot. Wizards and witches, who knew?”

The concept of another world full of magical beings was far from sticking in Claire’s brain, but she chose to go along with it for her best friend’s sake.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought,” Maria said. “But I hung out with them last night —talk about a nineteenth birthday bash—and they’re actually really cool. You should come hang sometime.”

“Maybe I’ll take a raincheck on that one,” Claire hedged. “But cut to the chase. If I don’t get back in the store, I might have to have Sherlock here escort me back just so he can pee on Jody’s leg.”

The tank is empty, Sherlock said. The remark caused Maria to laugh.

“What?”

Maria smiled. “Inside joke.” There was no denying how good she felt. The magic that had coursed through her body when Claire hit her felt like cold lemonade on a scorching hot summer’s day. Refreshing. Deep down, it also felt right. And a little weird, but Maria wasn’t complaining. She didn’t think she would be complaining until she set her sights on a giant man-spider. Until then, she’d take it as it came. After all, it was pretty cool to learn her life was so much more than normal.

Yeah, Maria, you’d better hurry, Sherlock said, sniffing the air. I smell bitchiness on the horizon. Jody can’t be far off.

Maria continued. “So it’s simple really. Well, ‘simple’ in terms of summing it up. I have some sort of mental bond to the world in between, since I’m directly related to the Queen Witch, and the dead boy who visited me last night was there to let me know that the villagers are not lost. They’re still alive, and it’s up to me to get them out.”

“Uh-huh,” Claire said, nodding. “Why can’t you and Macaroni—”

“Malakai,” Maria corrected.

“Yeah, Malakai—talk about a badass villain name, by the way—just share the music box? You get the villagers out, and he can get his old crew out. Win-win.”

“No,” Maria said firmly. “We can’t let evil win.”

“Now, I normally would agree with you, Maria,” Claire said, “but you’re apparently dealing with something complex and completely out of your realm.”

Literally, Sherlock added.

“It might not be a bad idea to hand over whatever the giant spider wants. He’s from another world; how much can it really affect us here?”

Maria got out of the car. She had a smug look on her face. Claire followed, waiting for an answer.

“No,” Maria rejected the idea. “No. That’s not the right thing to do. I’m an Apple. We don’t roll over and let evil win. We kick evil right in its evil ass.”

Claire nodded. “Worth a shot, I guess. Seeing as how I’m your best friend, you know I can’t let you do this alone, right?”

Maria shook her head, surprised Claire would offer her help when so much oddness had just been shared. Plus, Maria didn't want to put Claire in danger.

“Yeah, too bad. I’m here to back you up…right after my shift ends.” Claire turned and headed for the mall’s Employees Only entrance. “Stay safe,” she hollered over her shoulder, her red and black uniform dress flowing in the wind.

Maria watched her go and then looked down at Sherlock, who was sniffing at a smashed piece of already chewed gum. “She probably thinks I’m crazy.”

Well, I, on the other hand, know you’re crazy.

“Thanks, Sherlock. You’re such a good boy.”

He barked.

“I guess you can understand English fine, but when it comes to sarcasm, it might as well be Mandarin.”

They walked out of the mall parking lot, back toward the center of town. Maria’s body buzzed, and the world seemed brighter, more vibrant. There was a pent-up rage inside of her; one she needed to work out.

She knew the perfect place.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Bodybuilder’s Gym was a haven for meatheads. Dirty. Grimy. Reeking of sweat.

Maria entered through the front door, which was an open garage. The sun beamed, glinting off the old weights, and shining off of glistening biceps and pectoral muscles.

She had dropped Sherlock off at home—he wanted a nap. Gramps wasn’t there, meaning he was probably at Salem’s.

Maria had been a member of the gym since her junior year in high school. Coach Smith cut her from the wrestling team. Not because she wasn’t any good—she’d pinned John Grand in almost record-time, and he’d gone on for the rest of his high school days known as ‘the guy who got beat by a chick,’ and he’d always say he wasn’t trying his hardest. Bullshit. Maria knew he was. It wasn’t easy pinning him to the mat, but she’d done it, and it should’ve cemented her place on the team; perhaps even have earned her a co-captain spot. Instead, she was cut.

Because she was a girl.

She was sad at first. She’d gone home to Gramps and told him all about it, and in Gramps’s infinite wisdom, he said only one thing. There was no picking up the phone and calling the school district. No threats of lawsuits or anything of that matter. All he said was: “Prove them wrong.”

And Maria did.

She’d gotten a membership specifically at Bodybuilder’s Gym because John Grand worked out there. He and his meathead friends would always skip leg day, and it had gotten to the point where they looked like a couple of barrels on stilts.

Maria trained hard and she trained with a purpose. John Grand quit working out there last summer. In fact, he’d quit working out in general after high school. Maria saw him walking around the mall with his girlfriend one day, and John had easily put on thirty pounds. It wasn’t muscle.

“Hey, Maria,” Gus Cheney greeted as she strode in, her gym bag over her shoulder. Gus weighed about three hundred pounds, all muscle. He was hammer-curling eighties like they were made of cardboard.

“Hey, Gus, how’s it going?”

“Swole,” Gus answered. “You?”

“Could be better.”

“Rough day?”

“Almost always.”

“You still working up at the mall?”

Maria chuckled. “About that…”

Gus set the dumbbells down with an earth-shattering clank. Is he magic? Maria wondered. How else could he pick up such heavy stuff? Steroids? No. Gus isn’t one to cheat. Sheer hard work and determination, that’s how. Maria knew it.

Gus flexed in his tank top, the stitches stretching to their maximum. Somewhere behind the pair, a man grunted as he racked the barbell at the benching station. Ah, what a sweet sound.

“Eh, you don’t need them,” he assured her. “That mall is going to hell, anyway. I won’t even shop there.”

“Gus, the only place you go shopping is at GNC.”

Gus shrugged. “Still shopping. But the missus won’t set foot in Rolling Hill; she says all the good stores have moved.”

Maria nodded. It was true. In the last three years, the mall’s business had been slowly deflating, like the tires of a bike left in the shed for a few years.

“We go up to Summit. That place is awesome. You know they have a Cinnabon?”

“Carbs, Gus,” Maria said. “Carbs.”

“Good point,” he said. “Better do an extra set. I’ll get fat just thinking about that gooey deliciousness.” Then he winked and picked up the dumbbells again, grunting while he curled.

“Aerobic room open?” Maria asked as she walked away.

Gus chortled. “Almost always. Aerobic exercise and us meatheads go together like ham and peanut butter. You need to blow off some steam?”

“Yep.”

“Have at it, killer. But if you bust another punching bag, you’re paying for it.”

Maria said, “Sure thing, Gus.”

She left him and walked into the heavy, odorous cloud of sweat and vitamin supplements. She head-nodded to a few of the regulars, caught eyes with a few of the casuals (people whose workout regimen consisted of showing up at the gym maybe three or four times a month), and set her sights on the aerobic rooms. They were secluded, featured hardwood floors, and one wall was made entirely out of reflective glass so you could see how lame you looked doing crunches or jumping rope instead of hitting the iron.

Maria didn’t mind.

She liked the punching bags and stands in the room. She liked blaring the radio and going to town. Her locker inside the room was marked ‘APPLE,’ and it contained a pair of boxing gloves that smelled like sweat and blood from her knuckles.

Anything to take her mind off of what happened at the mall. Stupid Ted. She was honestly glad she didn’t work there anymore. Ripping off old ladies and serving old popcorn wasn’t what Maria thought would be her ticket into heaven.

Heaven. Death.

She’d always pictured herself dying of old age while she slept in a big, comfortable bed, maybe with a husband and her children and grandchildren at her side; everyone’s picture-perfect idea of passing on to the next plane of existence.

Except it didn’t look like that would be the case for Maria. Getting mauled by a giant spider was more up her alley. She, like most sane people, hated spiders with a passion.

Her gloves were on now. They felt right against her fist. She tightened the left one with her teeth, tasting the sour material of the string. The stereo blasted Metallica’s “Enter Sandman,” and blasted it loud.

She took her swings. Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. Right. Kick. The terribleness of the day, the realization that a giant spider-man was hunting her started to melt away.

She tore the bag up. Sweat poured off her body. Her head felt clear, and she saw everything in vivid color.

Oh, no—

The anger was coming back. A natural reaction; you can’t box with a smile on your face.

Her skin glowed blue. She heard a chorus of strange music coming from all around her.

“Control it, Maria,” she said. “Control it, or you’re going to let everyone in this place know you’re not normal.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Hello,” a strange voice said.

Maria jumped and swung out with her right fist. The air whistled.

“Can’t really hit a poltergeist,” the voice said.

“Oh,” Maria said, getting control of herself. God, if anyone looked into the aerobic room, they would’ve seen Maria miss the bag by a solid three feet. Talk about crazy.

Moving closer and closer to Gramps’s level of kookiness each day, she thought.

The dead boy, Duke, stood in front of the boxing bag. Maria walked over to the stereo and turned the music down, then turned to Duke and said, “Well, you’re here again, so I guess you aren’t here with good news.”

Duke frowned slightly. The blood on his face, which dribbled perpetually from the corners of his mouth, was still there. He looked as dead as he had the previous night.

“Do you have the music box?”

Maria nodded. She went over to her gym bag and pulled the box out.

Duke began to smile.

“You okay? I’ve never seen you smile before,” Maria said.

Duke’s arm reached out like he was going to brush the intricate carvings on the wood. As he did, his hand passed through it instead, and his smile disappeared.

“Ah, so many grand memories of that box,” he said.

Maria felt a sudden sadness overtake her; one that could only be fixed by beating the crap out of the boxing bags.

“Do you want me to play the music?”

Duke smiled again. He looked longingly at the box, and words played on his lips. Maria thought he meant to say ‘Yes,’ but he shook his head.

“No, we have business to attend to.” The ghostly figure stood straight up. He was a soldier through and through, even in death.

“Okay, hit me,” Maria said.

“The villagers await you, Maria.”

“Yes, I know. I’m trying. And, yeah, I’m boxing right now instead of figuring this out, but that’s a necessity.”

“I understand. You don’t want to go into battle unprepared,” Duke said. “But time is short. Malakai comes for you.”

“Yeah, I saw the marks he left on the door last night,” Maria said.

Duke cocked his head. “It was him? You’re sure of it?”

“I think so,” Maria answered.

“Then our time is even shorter. He’s more powerful than I originally thought.”

Maria paced. “What do you mean?”

“If he’s made a move, he knows for sure. But how he knows, I don’t—”

Realization hit Maria as hard as she had been hitting the punching bags.

“The lights,” Maria said, looking around at the dimness of the room. Something was happening.

“Lights?” Duke said before a cloud of darkness overtook Duke, like a swirling thunderstorm. From it, eight bulbous eyes blinked into existence. The gym disappeared around Maria. In her hands, she held the music box; the very weight of it gave her courage. She stood straight up, her shoulders square, ready to take on whatever came at her.

From the darkness, long, spindly legs reached for the box. Maria snapped it away. “Uh uh, asshole,” she said. “Over my dead body.”

“That’s the idea,” said a deep, thrumming voice. It was the voice of evil, of all things unholy. “Surrender it. Surrender the box. Give it up, and maybe there’s a chance that you and your loved ones will walk away unscathed.”

“Yeah, sure, buddy,” Maria said.

The putrid stink of death wheezed out from the hole, which seemed to be torn in the very fabric of existence.

Maria’s knees went weak. She wanted nothing more than to run. Run back to her grandfather, to Sherlock, to hide in the safety of her bedroom.

But the village, the village your mom died protecting, the village your grandfather swore an oath to. That’s your village, too, Maria. Those are your people. And even if they weren’t, you wouldn’t roll over and let evil win. Ignatius Apple didn’t raise you like that.

“Malakai comes, and he will not let you go without pain, Maria Apple. Know that. Know that if you fight, you die. You waste all of our time,” the dark figure said.

“Good luck,” Maria said. She closed her eyes.

The sound of thousands of lost souls screamed out to her. She thought she felt the bristles of a spider leg brush her face, but she didn’t waver. She stood her ground, just like her grandfather had taught her.

When she opened her eyes, the darkness was gone, and she was back in the aerobic room, Metallica played softly from the stereo. Nothing had changed; meatheads lifted weights, meatheads flexed.

“Duke?” Maria probed.

But Duke was gone.

It was just Maria and the music box now, and she thought that was how it would have to be.

She gathered up her stuff, putting the music box in her gym bag, and rushed out, not stopping to say bye to Gus or any of the other regulars.

She’d had her first encounter with the Widow and, though it hadn’t yet, it would leave her scarred.

***

Her workout didn’t stop when she left the gym. She ran home. She got there in about five minutes—record time.

“Gramps?” she said as she opened the door. “Gramps, I think whatever’s happening to me is more urgent than we really thought.”

From upstairs, she heard the clanking and clacking of objects.

He was back from Salem’s.

“Oh, no,” she groaned. Whenever Gramps was upstairs, that usually meant trouble. His oddness had been explained to Maria with the arrival of her magical capabilities, but that didn’t mean the things that Ignatius Apple built were any less dangerous.

Wouldn’t go up there if I were you, Sherlock warned. He lay at the foot of the stairs, his large, furry belly rising and falling with his ragged breath. Maria thought he might’ve put on an extra few pounds in a matter of hours. No more cookies and cake for him, she thought.

“What’s he doing?”

You know what he’s doing.

“Oh, God, not another lava experiment.”

Worse.

Maria’s heart fluttered.

“Gramps!”

“Dangnabit!” floated down from upstairs. “Where the golan are they!?”

“He’s looking for something?”

Travel gear, Sherlock said. Then he lifted his head up from the carpet and nodded, floppy cheeks dripping drool with the motion.

“Where could he be going? Only place he goes is that damn ice cream shop—Oh, GOD!”

She bounced up the stairs, vaulting over Sherlock and taking the steps two and three at a time. She reached the top and saw the upstairs hallway was littered with junk. Gramps had cleared out closets and desks and dresser drawers.

He was currently in the guest bedroom. The comforter, paisley-patterned, was strewn over him, making him look like a flamboyant ghost. Everything in the closet had been pulled out and thrown on the floor. Maria had to walk gingerly over extra piles of sheets and clothes hangers and grandpa’s old shoes.

“Gramps?” Maria said.

“Oh, hullo, Maria!”

“What are you looking for?”

Gramps flipped the comforter off of him. He wore checkered pants and a shirt with no suspenders. To Maria, he looked thinner, like he hadn’t actually been eating any ice cream down at the ice cream shop. Stress, she thought, that’s what’s doing it. Stress makes Sherlock gain an extra five pounds, and Gramps shed a few.

An odd look passed across his face. It was a look of guilt. Maria could tell he was about to lie to her. She didn’t know how or why—maybe it was the magic—but she could.

“Well, I seem to have misplaced my good pair of underpants. You know, the pair with the Christmas trees on them? They’re my favorite pair. Perfectly comfortable.” He moved awkwardly and adjusted the waist of his pants. “These, they’re too…snug.”

“Grandpa,” Maria said, crossing her arms.

“Okay, fine! I’m looking for my damn galoshes. My rainboots!”

Maria glanced out the window, noted the yellow sunshine and pale blue, cloudless skies. “Doesn’t look like rain, today, Gramps.” In fact, she’d seen the forecast that morning in the paper. The week ahead was looking to be beautiful. “Or any rain for awhile. What are you really doing?”

He threw his arms up in exasperation. “That’s it! I give up! Come, Maria, you must accompany me to Walmart.”

“Walmart? Gramps, you know what happened the last time you went to a Walmart. They have your picture in every single one within a fifty-mile radius; they’re pretty serious about keeping you out. And you’re lucky that’s all they did.”

“Oh, phooey!” Gramps said.

Maria smiled. ‘Phooey’ was one of her grandfather’s many catchphrases, and it never ceased to make her smile whenever he said it; along with ‘cripes,’ ‘golan,’ and a few others.

“Gramps, I need to talk to you.”

“Talk on the way,” Gramps answered. “Bring Sherlock. He’ll be able to smell any spiders a mile away.”

Gramps walked past her, out into the hallway, kicking away the piled clothes and shoes and books that he’d pulled out in his haste to find his…galoshes.

“Come, come!”

Maria needed to talk to him, so she had no choice but to follow.

He went down the steps and out to the garage, where under a sheet was the 1968 Pontiac Firebird her grandfather never drove but kept in case of emergencies. As Maria stepped over Sherlock, he said, Told you!

“C’mon, fatty,” Maria said.

Hey, I’m getting prepared for winter! It’s gonna be a cold one, Sherlock said.

“Yeah, you’re about three months too soon, buddy.”

The two of them went out to the garage.

Gramps stood in front of the Firebird, admiring its beauty. It was beautiful; the type of car you’d see on the front of ‘Classic Muscle Cars Magazine’ (if such a magazine existed). Maria, too, appreciated the beauty of such a fine piece of craftsmanship. She’d always wanted to drive it, but she knew Gramps would never let her. That’s okay. I can appreciate its beauty from the passenger’s seat.

Gramps pulled the keys free from his pocket. He’d done the right thing and put a shirt on. Maria was glad.

“Ready?” he asked.

Sherlock barked. He loved the Bird, too. Loved sticking his head out the window, and letting the wind blow his flappy cheeks every which way, which usually meant a rather large backdraft of drool for whomever joined him in the backseat.

“Heads up,” Gramps said. He tossed something to Maria. With her new magical abilities came a quicker reaction time, and the keys her grandfather tossed through the air seemed to move in slow motion.

Maria snagged them. “What?” she said, breathless.

“I think you’re old enough now,” Gramps said.

“B-But you never let anyone drive the Bird but you.”

Gramps shrugged, smiling. “First time for everything.”

“Seems like there are a lot of firsts since I turned nineteen.”

“It’ll only get weirder!” Gramps said, then he threw his head back and cackled. “That’s not a bad thing, by the way, Maria. You know what I say… ‘The weirder, the—”

“…Better,” Maria finished.

“Good girl. Now let’s get out of this smelly garage and out on the open road. It’s a beautiful day, and we have much to discuss.”

***

As much as Maria wanted to put the pedal to the metal, she couldn’t. Ignatius had fixed it to where the Firebird somehow wouldn’t go over thirty miles per hour, no matter how hard Maria pressed the gas pedal.

Magic, she thought. Whenever I don’t understand anything, I’ll just blame magic. Kennedy assassination? Magic. Aliens? Bigfoot? Abominable Snowman? Magic. Simple as that. I like it.

So Maria drove up the road with people riding her rear bumper, some of them honking and flashing their lights. She did her best to ignore them, but she caught her skin glowing blue again, threatening to unleash an uncontrollable burst of magic.

“Now we talk,” Gramps said.

Sherlock, who usually stuck his head out of the passenger’s side window, was leaning over Maria and drooling out the driver’s side.

“If this is payback for me calling you a fatty, then touché,” Maria said softly into his ear. He ignored her. She turned to glance at Gramps, to ask him the question that had been on her mind.

His eyes bugged out and he looked at the street. “Eyes on the road! Eyes on the road!”

Maria snapped her eyes back in that direction.

“Good, good. There is no tomfoolery while driving Sheila.”

“Sheila?” Maria asked.

“That’s what I named her. Fine, fine name, don’t you think?”

Maria chuckled. “Yeah, I guess; if there’s no tomfoolery, or whatever the heck you called it, I think you better tell Sherlock to stop stepping all over me.”

“You’re the one who can communicate with him!”

“He won’t listen to me,” Maria said.

Gramps frowned. “Sherlock? Get in the backseat.”

Sherlock listened, reluctantly, making sure he put his butt in Maria’s face on the way to the back.

“Bleh!” Maria said, turning her head away.

“Eyes on the road!” Gramps shouted again.

She was beginning to think that driving was actually not all that it was chalked up to be.

“Why were you looking for galoshes, Gramps?” Maria asked him with a slight edge to her voice. “Especially on such a beautiful day as this.” She took one hand off the wheel and swept it across the windshield as if showcasing a beautiful new house on Home Makeover.

“Hands on the wheel! Hands on the wheel!” Gramps shrieked.

She growled, sounding like Sherlock, and put her other hand back on the wheel.

“Galoshes, Gramps! Why? Tell me.”

Gramps sighed.

Maria turned off of East Avenue into the area’s strip mall. Down the way, across from a plaza full with Petsmart, Target, Starbucks, and Shoe Depot was the Walmart.

“I will tell you, Maria, as long as you promise not to get upset.”

Can’t get anymore weirder, I suppose, she thought, and flipped on her left blinker at the stop sign that led into Walmart’s parking lot. She almost raised her right hand, too, and said something like ‘Right hand to God,’ but quickly remembered how touchy Gramps was about keeping both hands on the wheel.

She settled for “I promise” instead.

A lady was walking her dog. Sherlock sniffed the air and turned to look at her. The dog outside started barking.

How dare he say something so vulgar about my mother! Sherlock said. Maria, stop the car. Stop the car and let me at him. I’ll tear his face off!

“Or you’ll sniff his butt and ask him to go get a Dairy Queen Blizzard with you,” Maria said.

“Pardon?” Gramps asked.

“Oh, nothing. Anyway, I promise,” Maria said again.

“Well, Maria; Salem, Agnes, the Muffler twins, and I thought it would be best if you sit this one out. I will need you here to guard the portal.” All that actually meant was that Gramps thought it was best. The others seemed mostly on her side.

She pulled into a parking space, shifted the gear stick to ‘P,’ then turned to her grandfather. “What the heck does that mean? You’re making it sound like this is a recreational softball league or something.”

Gramps cringed. “I knew you’d be mad.”

“I’m not sitting this one out. Duke came to me! It’s up to me to save the villagers from the world in between, and it’s up to me to stop whatever the giant spider-men are planning on doing.”

Gramps leaned forward. He put one bony, liver-spotted hand on Maria’s, and sighed again. His face lost all of the humor that was usually there.

Maria moved her hand out from under his. She felt betrayed. She felt like a kid again, not allowed to do the grownup things because she was too young and stupid.

“That’s why you let me drive the Firebird! Oh, my God! You were trying to butter me up before you let me down, weren’t you? Gramps, I’m disappointed.” It was nice being on the other end of the dreaded, ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ statement.

Gramps just shook his head.

“So I’m old and wise enough to drive Sheila, but I’m too inexperienced to go save my family, right?”

Maybe if you wouldn’t have called me a fatty…Sherlock said.

“Can it!” Maria shouted, her voice rattling the windows.

Sherlock slunk into the backseat.

“You must understand that I’m only doing this because I love you, Maria. Your service to the village will not go unnoticed. You will be lauded as a hero—”

“I don’t care about being called a hero!” Maria clarified, cutting him off. “I care about the well-being of those people. I care about doing the right thing.”

Her grandfather smiled. There was a twinkle in his eyes.

“You are your mother’s daughter, that much is true.” He pointed to Maria’s face. “When she was angry, her nostrils would flare just like that.”

Maria pulled away.

“Don’t try to be sweet to me, old man!”

Her skin glowed; she could see the muted blue beneath her jeans. Wouldn’t be good to go all magical fireball inside Gramps’s sacred Pontiac…or would it?

There was a pause, a moment of silence in which Maria and Ignatius stared. Who will blink first?

Gramps did. He looked toward the stickshift.

“Okay, Maria,” he said finally. “I give up. Like your mother, you are hardheaded.” He knocked on his forehead twice. It made a deep thunk. “And like your mother, you are tenacious. That is a good trait, Maria, but it can get you killed. You must be careful.”

Maria didn’t answer. She waited.

Gramps continued. “You may assist us when we get to Oriceran.”

“Oriceran?”

“Yes,” Gramps said. “The world in between is not a curtain. It is a tightly locked vault, buried beneath a ton of concrete.”

“How will we get in? Is that why we’re at Walmart? Is the way into freaking purgatory at an Ohio Walmart? God, everything makes so much more sense now. That’s why this place is a haven for weirdos,” Maria said.

Says the girl who can talk to her Bloodhound, Sherlock chimed in.

“Can it! I’m only gonna tell you twice!” Maria shouted, turning around.

Sherlock stuck his tongue out at her.

“No, no,” Gramps said, and then paused. “Er, yes, Walmart is the entrance—one of many. Ask the Gnomes.”

Again, Maria mumbled, “Gnomes?” to herself. “Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“Because I didn’t want to scare you. We are at Walmart because we are preparing for our trip. What better way to prepare than at the same place we are leaving from? Two birds, one stone!”

“But Walmart? Really? Shouldn’t we be going to Magics R Us or something like that?” Maria felt as if Gramps had made this up on the spot. But he wouldn’t lie to her… would he?

Gramps shook his head, laughing. “Oh, how I wish it were that easy. Maria, we are not supposed to be known to the general public. If there was a store offering items to only magical beings, it would easily go out of business. Secondly, it would be scrutinized severely by the IRS. We could just make money appear out of thin air, you know?”

Gramps got out of the Firebird. It was a low car, but he seemed not to struggle one bit. The usefulness of the kemana, Maria thought. All that ice cream somehow had a youthful effect on him. Isn’t that nice?

Maria followed suit.

She put the driver’s seat down and let Sherlock out. “Okay, buddy,” she said, “but I don’t think Walmart is going to allow dogs inside.”

But they’ll allow that? Sherlock said. He raised a paw in a pointing like gesture to a man near the open back hatch of a minivan. The man sat in one of those electric carts.

The guy's sagging sweatpants exposed a particularly deep and hairy crack. It was not a pleasant sight.

I’m coming with you! Sherlock said again.

Maria turned away from the man on the scooter and looked back at Sherlock. “Listen, man, I don’t make the rules. They let guys like him in because, even though he grosses everyone out, he buys a metric shit-ton of junk food. People like him keep Walmart in business.”

Well, you shouldn’t worry about me, Sherlock said. You should worry about Charlie Chaplin back there. Sherlock tilted his head backward, ears and cheeks flopping.

Maria hadn’t noticed, but the Firebird’s trunk was open, and Gramps was rummaging around. He threw plastic Halloween costume bags and hats and mustaches and wigs to the ground.

“Gramps, what the fuck are you doing?” Maria asked.

“No swearing, young lady!”

“Aw, gimme a break. I’m apparently a magical alien; I think it’s perfectly all right if I curse a little here and there.”

Ignatius looked at her over the trunk and rolled his eyes.

“Really, though, what the heck are you doing?” She made sure to substitute ‘heck’ for ‘fuck.’

“Disguises, my dear Maria. Disguises! Like you said, my picture is plastered all over that dreaded place. I don’t intend to get thrown out on my bottom by Spencer today!”

“Spencer?”

“He’s the security guard that should be working today’s shift,” Gramps answered casually.

“Great, you got the security guard patterns memorized, and you’re on a first name basis.” Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.

Gramps slammed the trunk close with, a stern look on his face. “Onward,” he said.

But Maria cracked up with laughter.

“What?”

Sherlock fell to the concrete and rolled, barking softly. Inside of Maria’s head, she could hear his doggie laughter.

“Gramps, you look like the oldest Italian plumber I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Gramps now wore a red shirt under his suspenders. He’d changed the checkered-patterned pants into blue jeans. On his face was a rich black mustache, and in his hand was the red hat with an M embroidered on the front.

“What? Super Mario is a classic!” Gramps said.

“It’s not Halloween yet. Don’t you think you look a little suspicious?”

Gramps shrugged. “It’s the only outfit in the trunk I haven’t tried yet,” he reasoned. “I really need to visit the costume shop again.”

Maria said nothing. All she could do was shake her head.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Walmart greeter was a woman probably not much older than Ignatius—in terms of appearance, that was. Ignatius was much older than his driver’s license stated, which was seventy-six, in case you were wondering.

He had slain scores of Arachnids as easily as if they were the common household spiders found here on Earth, but when it came to sneaking into Walmart, Ignatius was scared shitless.

“Stay cool, Gramps,” Maria said. She walked on the right side of his body, covering most of him. “Well, as cool as someone dressed as a Super Mario Brother can be.”

Sherlock was on Gramps’s left side, and Ignatius had a leash on him. He wished he had thought to throw one of those service dog vests in the back of the Bird; that would’ve made the operation less risky. At least I have this great outfit. If Spencer threw them out, he thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to hit up a bar, pick up some ladies, throw back a couple of drinks…

No, you old fool. Maria would never go for that. The time for fun has passed. We have to save the village. The fun can wait until we do that, can’t it, Iggy?

If you can save the village, you old fool. You’re not as strong as you once were, and the magic on Earth is nothing like the magic of Oriceran. Might be that Malakai has your number. He’s been brought back from the dead. You know what they say about those that don’t stay dead. They’re stubborn. Refuse to lose—

The Walmart greeter stepped forward. Ignatius’s heart did a loop in his chest. He read the name: Mary or May, he wasn’t sure which, since he’d left his glasses in the car. The picture on the costume package didn’t show glasses, and Ignatius wanted to be as authentic as he could, aside from the obvious weight gain he was needing.

“Excuse me, sir,” the greeter said.

Maria stepped forward, shielding Ignatius even more. “Yes?” she said.

“You can’t have your dog inside.” The greeter pointed to a sign right beyond the merchandise tag detectors. It said you couldn’t come in without a shirt or shoes, or if you had a skateboard, bike, or rollerblades, and there were no animals allowed.

Racist, Sherlock accused.

“Cool it,” Maria whispered.

It was time for her to step up. If Gramps opened his mouth, there was a chance the woman would recognize him and call for security. Then they’d be thrown out on their asses. Sure, they could get rubber galoshes somewhere else, but they couldn’t as easily get to the world in between from somewhere else. Gramps knew what he was doing. Maria wasn’t worried.

“You’ll have to leave the dog in the car,” the greeter continued. She frowned pitifully, but her expression was laced with sarcasm. Maria would’ve slapped it off of her if she didn’t glow blue every time she got pissed off. Fucking blue, she groused silently. Always taking the fun away.

“No,” Maria said. “My grandfather here is diabetic, and this is Skip, his service dog.”

Skip? You couldn’t come up with something more badass? God, first Sherlock, and now Skip? You are the worst at naming animals. I feel sorry for your firstborn. Better hope the father has a say in the name.

Maria ignored him.

“Skip here may be a tad overweight, but he’s one of the best service dogs this side of the Cuyahoga.”

The greeter eyed them warily.

“Do you have some sort of identification to prove that, ma’am?”

“Some asshole stole it, along with Skip’s cute red service dog vest. You probably thought he grew out of it because he’s been stress eating so much, but nope. Stolen. Can you believe that? I think someone just wants to sneak their dog into Walmart or something,” Maria said.

You’re the worst, Sherlock said.

“I’m sorry, but without proper identification—”

Suddenly, the alarm wailed. A teenager clutching his stomach power walked through the front doors.

That was enough to distract the old woman. She turned her head up to him and crowed, “Excuse me, sir!?”

When he didn’t answer or stop, she walked after him. Heads of incoming and outgoing customers turned in the direction of the new development.

The kid was long gone, halfway across the parking lot and dropping various stolen items as he got farther away.

Gramps tugged on Maria’s sleeve.

Maria had turned toward the door, ready to chase after the kid. He’d stolen something and needed to be brought to justice. Stealing things wasn’t right, even if it was from a place that probably wouldn’t even realize they’d been stolen from.

“Leave him,” Gramps said. “Our chance is now. Best we don’t lose it.”

The three of them went into the store unnoticed. Ignatius led them back to the shoes, hoping they had a pair of size nine yellow rubber galoshes.

“Security will be here any moment,” Gramps said. He squeezed Maria’s hand tight. “I don’t want to deal with that Spencer fella right at this moment.”

“Don’t blame you,” Maria said. “Anyone named Spencer is probably a total asshat.” She was thinking back to high school. The star quarterback, prom king, and head of the student council was some blonde jerk named Spencer. He’d always called Maria ‘Mosquito Bites’ because of her lack of breasts. The dickhead.

“There!” Gramps pointed. A couple of Walmart employees were standing by the electronics counter, chatting away. They didn’t look like they’d care if there was a dog in the store or not—they’d probably seen much worse—but Maria saw no reason to risk it. They cut through the toy aisle and went the back way to the shoe department.

Suddenly, Sherlock barked. Maria’s heart dropped as she looked back. Sherlock, the big doofus, had found the ball pit: a towering wire structure filled to the brim with large rubber bouncy balls.

“Sherlock, here, now!”

You’re not the boss of me! A chorus of joyful laughter filled Maria’s mind.

Gramps was already well on his way to the shoe aisle.

“Sherlock!” Maria called again.

The laughter continued. He weaseled a ball out of the pit and started knocking it around the aisle with his snout, his nails clicking on the linoleum. A few shoppers gave him wary glances. One woman, who looked like she had a stick very far up her ass, made a motion to the Walmart employee behind the photo section. The employee reached up for the phone, looking in Maria’s and Sherlock’s direction, and his lips started moving.

“Oh, no,” Maria said. “Not good.”

Sherlock’s leash dragged around on the floor, back and forth like a snake. Maria made a move for it and missed.

“Shit!” she yelled, then, “Sorry!” as she almost took out a mom pushing a stroller. The mom snarled at her.

“Sherlock! I’m going to cut off all sweets for you if you don’t get your ass back here!” she shouted. It was an odd thing to tell a dog, but it seemed to have worked.

You wouldn’t.

“I would.”

You’re the devil.

“I’m not there yet, but I can be. If you think getting housebroken was bad, wait until you get a load of my all-wheatgrass-and-almond-milk diet.”

Blech!

Sherlock turned around and bounded toward Maria.

The Walmart employee came over with a manager type. He looked Indian and terribly pissed off as he crossed his eyes and scowled in Maria’s direction.

“Service dog,” Maria said. “For my grandpa. He’s new, not fully acclimated for his duty.”

Ha! You said ‘duty’!

Maria did her best to ignore it. Then quickly, with Sherlock’s leash in hand, Maria took off toward the shoe aisle.

The manager, Brijesh, turned to the employee, who said, “Well…that was kinda weird, huh?”

Brijesh thought about calling Spencer, the head of security, but ultimately decided he didn’t get paid enough to put up with this crap. He left the photo counter employee standing there with his hands in his pockets, thinking, Always weird shit happening at Walmart. Why did I ever move to Akron?

***

Grandpa had four pairs of galoshes out of the rack. There was no one in the aisle with them. Walmart shoes were apparently not too popular.

“Why the galoshes?” she asked again. “Is Oriceran and the world in between, like, some kind of water world or something?”

Gramps ignored her, ripped a blue boot from its box, and tried to slip it on to match with its mate.

Sherlock lay down, nudged a loafer off of the rack, and began chewing on it.

“I’m not paying for that, you know?” Maria said to him.

Leave me alone, he pouted.

“Gave you a bit of a shock, huh? No sweets, and all.”

Not talking to you. La-la-la-la!

“Stress chewing on synthetic rubber will murder your complexion.”

Sherlock gave her his best deadpan look and went back to nibbling and slobbering all over the shoe.

My life is so weird, Maria thought.

Gramps threw the blue boot down the aisle. It bounced and cartwheeled until it hit the back wall and reverberated off.

“Chill out, Gramps,” Maria whispered. “We’re trying to keep a low profile, remember? Already had another run in with Loopy the Ball-Loving Dog, here.” She cocked a thumb toward Sherlock, who looked up from his dinner of a men’s size 12 loafer.

Maybe if I still had my own balls, I wouldn’t want to play with rubber ones!

Maria laughed. “I think there’s a an official term for that.”

Yeah, it’s called ‘Don’t touch a dog’s family jewels!’

Gramps looked at Maria, his face flustered. “Is Sherlock complaining about being neutered again?”

“Yep.”

“Suck it up, Sherlock! We couldn’t have you marking your territory all over the house. Dog pee is a pain to get out of carpet.” He turned back toward the boots, setting his sights on the out-of-season winter ones.

“If you just tell me what the boots are for, maybe I could help you,” Maria suggested.

“The world in between. If folklore is right, it’s not a dry place.”

“You mean rain?”

“I mean jelly.”

Maria shuddered. “Jelly? Geez, why can’t anything be normal? I guess when you’re dealing with witches and wizards and giant spiders and talking dogs, jelly is pretty tame.”

Gramps threw another boot down the aisle in disgust.

“Just pick a boot so we can get to the villagers,” Maria said. “How about this yellow pair? Perfect. Totally classic, like the Firebird.”

“No! No!” Gramps said.

“Isn’t this the reason you got kicked out of Walmart in the first place?”

She sat down. Her feet were hurting and her blood pressure was high. She felt no magical tingle, though, and her skin was a normal peachy color.

Maybe I’m learning how to control it, she thought. No more blown-up clown heads.

The temper tantrums, it's because he’s scared, Sherlock said. He tilted his head down at the now ruined shoe. Like me. When I’m scared or nervous, I revert back to my puppy days and chew stuff up or pee everywhere. Thank God Ignatius isn't doing that.

“Like every time someone runs the vacuum cleaner?” Maria said.

Precisely.

“So you’re scared of the world in between and giant spider-men?”

No, I’m scared of not having any sweets in my life.

“Aw, Sherlock, you’ll still have me.” She read no obvious amusement on the Bloodhound’s face. He looked at her like a stone statue, unmoving. Then he got up and walked over to where Maria was sitting. He put his head in her lap. Reflexively, she began petting him behind his big floppy ears.

Okay, don’t laugh, Sherlock said.

Gramps now had two different colored boots on, one red and one yellow. He looked like an older version of Ronald McDonald, about to be caught in a rainstorm.

Maria arched an eyebrow at Sherlock. “Laugh? At you? Never.”

I’m being serious, Sherlock said.

“Okay, fine, Sherlock. I’ll let you have your sweets. I understand no sweets is the bane of your existence and all that.”

No, Maria. I’m stressed because of all of that’s going on. All the change.

“You mean the magic?”

Everything. I don’t want to go to another world. I don’t want to go to a world in between those worlds, where the dead and the living alike walk around like everything is A-okay.

Maria’s heart sank. For the first time since Sherlock had been able to communicate with her, he was being honest.

“We have to. We practically grew up together, Sherlock. You know how Gramps raised us.”

To do the right thing, yes; but it’s not the right thing if it means your death.

She didn’t know what to say.

“Eureka!” Gramps said, breaking the somber moment.

He’s the same way, Maria, Sherlock added. He’s stalling. Who needs rubber galoshes when you’re able to conjure up things out of thin air? If he really needed them, he’d just alakazam them—

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Maria said.

Whatever. Point being, he’s scared. As much as he wanted you to come into your powers, he’s not ready to let the girl he raised go.

Maria turned and looked at her grandfather with different colored lenses—these lenses were tinted with understanding. Gramps had never been the finicky type. He may have been a bit kooky, and even more rambunctious, but he’d always had his affairs in order.

“It’s because I was a late-bloomer, isn’t it?” Maria asked.

Ignatius paused in his madness and looked up. His heart had been slowly breaking since he heard of Malakai’s second coming, and looking at Maria now had almost fully broken it. No longer did he see the little girl he taught how to ride a bike, or to whom he’d sung his whacky Oriceran birthday songs. No longer did he see a little girl at all, but a full-grown woman—a full-grown witch.

“You wanted me to become a witch until you knew the stakes,” Maria deduced. “The villagers were all but dead after so many years, and when I didn’t show signs of any magic, you thought all hope was lost. Then here comes the giant spider guy, and you realize this is real. More real than you thought.”

Ignatius felt tears at the edge of his eyelids.

You mustn’t cry, Ig. You mustn’t cry. You must be honest and honorable. The Apple way. The way you taught Maria. Don’t contradict yourself now.

Maria got up and walked over to him.

She was so tall these days; he hadn’t seemed to notice it until now. She seemed to grow even taller still. Her hair shone dark brown in the overhead fluorescents. Her eyes burned with intensity, with magic… the color of a clear sky in the throes of summer.

“Now I’m coming into my own and I can save the villagers, and you’re at a crossroads,” Maria continued.

Ignatius stood up and hugged Maria. Sherlock maneuvered himself between them and stood on his hind legs to make a group hug.

“There’s no portal here, is there?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “You are my granddaughter, all I have left…and you remind me so much of Zimmy.”

“The Queen Witch,” Maria nodded. “My mom.”

Gramps nodded back and swallowed a lump in his throat.

“She was murdered protecting them, and now they are lost; I’ve forgotten some of their faces, Maria. I will not lie to you. But I have you here and now. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose Salem or Agnes or the Muffler twins.”

They parted.

God, you two are breaking my heart, Sherlock said. I need to go chew another shoe. Sherlock stalked off down the aisle, his head down, and his ears and cheeks drooping more than normal.

Maria looked back at her grandfather. She took his hands. “You don’t have to worry about losing me, or your friends, or even Sherlock,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to win. You’ve taught me time and time again that good beats evil. I’ve never lost faith in that belief. And I never will.”

Gramps smiled, his bottom lip quivering.

“You’re just like your mother,” he said, and then he sat down and took off the different colored boots. He threw them back on to the rack and waved his hands in a circular gesture.

Maria’s jaw dropped. She had never seen her grandfather perform magic before last night, at least not knowingly, and it still amazed her. The shoes that had been scattered all over the aisle rose on their own and started walking down the linoleum one step at a time, as if invisible men were wearing them. Each shoe found their respective spot on the rack, matching colors and sizes.

“Wow!” Maria said, her mouth still hanging open.

Sherlock whined as the loafer he had been chewing on was pried from his jaw by phantom fingers. A string of slobber hung from the sole, swinging like a pendulum.

“Don’t think anyone is gonna want that shoe after they find out where it’s been,” Maria wrinkled her nose.

“Nonsense! It’s Walmart!” Gramps announced as he walked to the end of the aisle.

“Yeah, it’s Walmart—so why are you being so nice? Wouldn’t it really stick it to them if they had to come clean up after you?”

Gramps looked back and shook his head. “Why, no, Maria. It’s not the regular employees of Walmart that I have a bone to pick with. The cashiers, greeters, stockers, and cleaners have done nothing to offend me. It’s the damn security!”

“Right. Well, get them back then.”

“All in due time, my dear grandchild,” Gramps said. He seemed more confident all of a sudden, more normal. “Now, Sherlock, come.”

Sherlock obeyed, which was a form of magic in and of itself.

“Oriceran awaits us. My home. And there we will discover the secrets only you can unlock, Maria.”

Maria smiled. “Let’s go.”

***

They got halfway to the Firebird before Ignatius stopped and grabbed his stomach. The worst flashed through Maria’s mind. Heart attack. Stroke. Ruptured bowels. It came with the territory of caring for a senior citizen, and, though her grandfather turned out to be a magical wizard warrior, her old fear did not go away.

“What? What’s wrong?” she asked, her face twisted into a grimace that matched Ignatius’s. Even Sherlock had stopped eyeing the gulls that were looking for lost food in the parking lot.

“The air is different,” Ignatius said. His gaze swept the darkening blue sky. He put his index finger on the tip of his tongue then put it above his head, as if testing the wind.

“What?” Maria started to ask.

Let him go. He’s just being weird. I don’t smell anything besides a few dropped French fries over by that Five Guys burger place, Sherlock said. And those damned seagulls. What I wouldn’t do to get my teeth in—

“Whoa, calm down, killer,” Maria admonished. She turned back to her grandfather and put a hand on the small of his back. “You sure you’re okay?”

He blinked. Realization came over his features and he shook his head. “Yes, yes, I’m hungry. You see that little coffee shop over there? They have the best sandwiches.”

“Gramps, I know. We used to go there all the time.” Dementia was on her mind. Is Gramps losing it?

“Humor an old man and share one with him, please, dear?” Ignatius made his best sad face, with his lower lip jutting out and his eyes wide and gleaming with tears.

“Fine,” Maria said. “But after that, we have to prepare for our trip. Really prepare for our trip.”

Sherlock jumped up on Maria and licked her.

“Blah! What did I tell you about licking me, Sherlock?”

Gramps laughed as Maria wiped the slobber from her cheek. He put his arm around her and they walked across the street to The Big Cup Coffeehouse.

***

The air had changed. Ignatius was right. Whenever a soul leaves a body on Oriceran, it is not meant to come back to the vessel that housed it previously.

Yet Malakai walked the Earth in the same suit of skin that he had worn on Oriceran. In that skin, Malakai had turned on the village of Dominion and spilt the blood of Duke, the child soldier who had shown him mercy. All for what?

Was I meant to be loyal to the Arachnids because I was born one, despite them murdering my mother at the time of my birth? Despite all the torture and torment the Arachnid army put their soldiers through?

The answer did not matter.

What was done had already been done.

Malakai looked to the dark sky with his eight eyes and sniffed the air. He smelled the garbage set out by the curb in front of all the houses, except for the one to which he’d tracked Ignatius Mangood and the music box.

The key.

He cleaned up the mess he’d left the previous night. Now he waited for Ignatius’s return. Then he would not only get his key, but he would get revenge.

He did not know how the box was the key to the world in between, but that didn’t matter. Malakai didn’t care one way or the other. When he was brought back to life, he had lost all his emotion, all basis of right and wrong—‘for the better,’ the Widow had said; her with the red hourglass emblazoned on her back. Now Malakai was programmed for only two things—to get back the music box, and to kill anyone who dared stand in his way.

He would make sure Ignatius stood in his way.

Although devoid of emotion, Malakai hadn’t been drained of his brains. He knew he was in a foreign land. He knew the sight of a giant creature such as himself would send the locals into frenzy.

The Widow, time and time again, had instilled an image of a mob of angry humans equipped with pitchforks and torches, hellbent on killing what they would never understand.

Malakai had slipped up a few times in his pursuits, but he couldn’t slip up around the wizards and witches in hiding.

He wouldn’t, either. Not with her wand.

Time passed, and Ignatius never showed. Malakai would have to take matters into his own hands. He would have to force the issue.

The cloaking spell changed him into his last victim—a new inductee to the Order of the Silver Griffins by the name of Felah Fyre.

Felah Fyre had suddenly developed a sweet tooth. The only thing capable of satisfying the sweet tooth—besides the blood of wizards and witches, of course—was ice cream.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ignatius ordered a mint cappuccino. Maria grimaced at the strong smell of the steaming cup. It was like hot gum. Sherlock’s nose wiggled curiously. Once he got close enough to it, he gagged.

“Yeah, not my cup of tea, either,” Maria agreed. She was still waiting for her vanilla milkshake—an odd order in a place that was famous for its coffee.

Not a cup of tea, Sherlock said. It’s coffee. Is your nose broken, human?

“Don’t you mean ‘witch’ now?” Maria said.

Gramps laughed and shook his head. “Oh, you two. You warm my heart.”

“Skip the sentimental stuff, Gramps,” Maria said.

The waitress came with a tall glass. “Whip cream?” she asked.

“Leave the can,” Maria said with a grin, motioning to the Ready Whip in the waitress’s apron.

“Um, I’m afraid I can’t do—”

Ignatius mumbled something Maria couldn’t hear, and the waitress’s eyes changed. She looked like someone who’d fallen into a deep daze riddled with the most pleasant dreams.

“Here,” she offered. “It’s all yours.” She grinned from ear to ear.

“Thank you…” Maria said hesitantly, and took the can.

“You’re most welcome. Will you be having any food to go with your drinks? Perhaps one of our world-famous chicken club sandwiches? I can have the cook make one up special for you, Maria,” the waitress said.

“Uh, yeah…that’d be nice. Wait—how do you know my name?”

But the waitress only nodded and walked back to the kitchen through a swinging door.

She was still confused until she looked up and saw Gramps smiling.

“Magic?” Maria determined. “That’s not fair. You can’t magic people for your own gain!”

Can it, Miss Morality, Sherlock advised, and let me get a spoonful of that milkshake!

“Oh, please, Maria. It was a harmless charm. Besides, this may be our last visit here for a good while. We must make it count!” Gramps said. He brought the cappuccino up to his lips and took a sip. “Ah, the best. Not even on Oriceran can you get a cup as good as this.”

“I would say ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ but I think I’m going to find out firsthand.” Maria spooned some of the milkshake onto Gramps’s saucer, and Sherlock lapped at it. He was like a crack addict in need of a fix. Better to shut him up than to have to deal with his sarcasm and veiled insults, Maria supposed.

“You have such a kind heart, Maria,” Gramps said.

Maria put her hand up. “No sappiness! I mean it!”

Gramps wiped away a tear with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Maria looked out the window and saw a group of friends walking in the parking lot, their arms draped through shopping bags.

“I’ll have to visit Claire and Tabby before we go.” She suddenly didn’t want the rest of her milkshake. Sherlock drooled looking at it. He looked so silly sitting in the small coffeehouse, so out of place. But it made sense now. Gramps had magicked Sherlock inside of a place where dogs were most certainly not allowed. Was it wrong? Probably, but Gramps was also right: This might be our last time together. The road ahead of us is long and treacherous, as a wise man once said. But why didn’t he do it at Walmart?

Because he wanted to drag out the time, she realized. He doesn’t want to go. He’s afraid…deep down, he’s afraid.

The waitress came back about five minutes later with the sandwich. Record time.

“Here you go, dear. On the house, of course,” the waitress said. She smiled a magic-forced smile. It was painful to look at.

“No,” Maria refused, glaring at her grandfather. In her pocket, she had a twenty-dollar bill. American money was no good in Oriceran, so she took it out and handed it to the waitress. The waitress just looked at it with the grin stretching her features. It was like she didn’t know what money was.

“Kill the charm, Gramps,” Maria said.

“I can’t. It has to wear off on its own,” he answered and took a drink of his coffee.

Are you gonna eat that? Sherlock asked, pointing his nose at the chicken sandwich.

Maria growled at him.

The waitress stood there awkwardly. Maria decided to just put the cash in her apron. When the charm wore off, she’d be twenty dollars richer. It was a hell of a tip.

“Okay, that will be all.” Maria concluded the transaction.

“Certainly,” the waitress said, and nodded. She turned around and walked away. The smile never left her face.

“Geez, talk about creepy,” Maria shuddered. “She looked like the Joker from Batman or something.”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve used that charm. If the Silver Griffins found out I did that…oh, boy, would I be in trouble.”

There was only one other customer in the coffeehouse. He sat on the opposite side of the small room, reading a newspaper. He kept throwing unamused glances toward Maria’s table. She was just about ready to tell him to take a picture because it would last longer when Gramps interrupted her.

“I suppose you want to hear more about your mother.”

Maria was shocked.

The old story went that she had died giving birth to her. Maria never knew what it was like to have parents, but it didn’t particularly bother her. Gramps had done a fine job raising her. He was always there for her, had taught her how to ride a bike, how to spell her name, how to stand up for herself. So when it came to having a mother, Maria felt perfectly all right without one. She wasn’t sure what she was missing.

But she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit curious. After all, it’s not everyday that you find out your mom is an alien known as the Queen Witch.

Maria nodded. “I do.”

“You two look so much alike. Her hair was much longer, though. It was a symbol of great power, to wear one’s hair as long as hers.”

“Kind of like the Dothraki in Game of Thrones?” Maria asked.

Gramps arched an eyebrow. “Maria, you know I only watch General Hospital and Days of Our Lives. I don’t bother with such fodder as Game of Thrones. A bid for power, for sitting on the throne, is not a game at all.”

“Okay, Gramps. Sorry, I forgot. But just know you’re really missing out on some good television.”

Gramps smiled politely. Maria knew he’d never get around to watching Game of Thrones. She’d tried really hard to get him to watch Breaking Bad, and he’d made the same argument. Oh well, his loss.

“Your mother was a brave woman. After the Arachnids attacked the first time, she stepped up when no one else would. Not even the king.”

“The one I saw dead on the floor of the throne room?”

Gramps nodded. “Your father.”

“Oh, my God. That was my father?”

“Yes. He was murdered in cold blood. For what? For power. See, Maria; it is no game.”

Maria’s head spun. Get ahold of yourself, Maria, she thought. You never knew them in all your nineteen years. You can’t be sad. You don’t get sad.

“All because of this,” Maria said, pulling the music box out of her bag. She opened it. The sweet music drifted along the air. Now it didn’t sound like gibberish to her; now it was dear to her heart. She may not understand the words, but she understood the melody’s importance.

“Wars have been fought for much less,” Gramps said. He brushed the wood with the back of his hand. A tear sliced down his cheeks, riding the wrinkles.

“Do you really think Malakai is after us?” Maria found herself asking, her head still spinning.

“It’s hard to say. Bringing someone back from the dead is no easy task. If anyone is capable of doing it, however, it is the Widow.”

“ ‘The Widow’?” Maria asked.

Sherlock’s lapping was the only sound between them for a moment. Gramps rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hand.

“The leader of the Arachnids. The one who wants the box.”

“The leader? I thought you killed the leader; Korrin, or whatever his name was,” Maria said. Her chicken sandwich remained untouched in front of her, getting cold. She thought about pushing it over to Sherlock, whose brown face was now covered in whipped cream and milkshake, but decided not to.

“I killed the generals of her army, including Korion, but she is the one pulling the strings. Think of them like a colony of bees.”

“Bees? I thought they were like spiders.”

“They are. But bear with me. A beehive has a queen bee. The others do everything in their power to serve her. They work, they mate, they live for her. The same goes with the Arachnids. All of them live for her. And if Malakai has been reanimated, it will have been the Widow’s doing.”

“Malakai,” Maria found herself saying. The grip on her silverware grew tighter. “What happened to him? Why did he turn?”

“Ah, my dear, it is a long story. One I won’t bore you with. The short of it is that the Widow’s influence stretches further than I originally thought. I found Malakai on the edge of the Dark Forest, as if one of the Arachnids had birthed him and known he was different, but couldn’t bring themselves to kill him.” Gramps sighed. “Neither could I. The others in our village called me crazy for bringing an ancient enemy into our tribe. But, you know best, Maria, that—”

“You have a kind heart,” Maria finished, smiling.

“Yes. Sometimes, apparently, too kind.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Maria said. “You did the right thing by taking him in.”

“Did I? It is a choice I’ve had to live with for many, many years, across worlds and time and space. One that is proving to haunt me, even here on Earth where I thought I would be safe—where I thought you’d be safe, Maria.”

“I am safe.”

“Not as long as you have that.” He pointed to the music box. “I only wanted to give you something that belonged to your mother. I only wanted to see if you possessed any of her power. And it turns out I may have bitten off more than I could chew. Not only are you powerful, but you are the key to saving an entire village of people. I’m so sorry, Maria; so sorry for placing this burden on your soul.”

“Gramps, don’t blame yourself. I’m fine. We’re fine. The village will be fine. We’ll save them.”

Gramps hung his head. His hand absentmindedly stroked Sherlock’s fur.

“Thank you, Maria,” he said. “Thank you for being so understanding. I know how odd all of this must be. You are handling it mighty well.”

“It is…and it isn’t,” Maria decided. “Somehow, it feels…right.”

“As it should. You are truly one of us.”

Maria eventually ate her chicken sandwich. It was cold, though. She wound up giving three-quarters of it to Sherlock. He ate it in about one and a half bites.

They left the coffeehouse and headed back to Gramps’s Firebird. Maria looked over her shoulder at the plaza and the violet sky behind it. Will it be the last time I see it? she wondered. She hoped not. Still, the allure of adventure was high. Getting out of Ohio had always been her ultimate goal. She was not only accomplishing it, but she was exceeding it by getting completely off the planet, which still seemed weird to her—and perhaps always would. Though there was no denying the fact that she felt like she was going home.

Inside of the Firebird, Maria started the engine. Gramps didn’t protest when she went around to the driver’s side. In fact, he’d seemed quite happy to let her, this time around.

“I want to go see Claire and Tabby before we go,” Maria repeated.

“That’s quite all right.”

Sherlock barked. He really liked Claire. Now that Maria could communicate with him, she had found out that Sherlock might’ve even had a crush on her best friend.

“But there is one more thing I must give you before we go to Oriceran,” her grandfather told her.

“What?”

“It is a surprise, but I think you are going to be very happy.”

Maria smiled. “You know I don’t like surprises, Gramps. Last time you gave me something, it made me sneeze magic and came attached with a giant spider creature who wanted to kill us.”

“Oh, trust me, Maria, you are going to like this much better than the music box.”

“Are you giving me the Firebird? Now, that would top every birthday present in the history of birthday presents!” Maria shifted into reverse and backed out of the Walmart parking spot very carefully.

“No. I will be buried in my Firebird, Maria,” Gramps said. “You know that. It’s in my last will and testament.”

Maria rolled her eyes.

“No eye rolling while driving!” Gramps shouted, and then quickly offered a smile to let her know he was joking.

“Well, if I’m going to like this surprise so much, maybe we should stop at home first.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Gramps said.

Maria turned onto the road and headed back to their house. Sherlock snored in the backseat. The food coma had hit him hard.

***

Maria pulled into the driveway not long after. Gramps was much more lenient on the way back. Too bad I can’t get the Firebird as a gift. I look pretty damn good in the driver’s seat; almost as good as I look on that little pink bike I rode to the ice cream shop yesterday. She laughed quietly to herself. Kidding.

“Am I gonna have to close my eyes again?” Maria asked as they walked up to the house. Sherlock lagged behind, his stomach practically dragging on the ground. “And please don’t wear a party hat this time.”

“No promises,” Gramps said. He opened the door. The familiar smell of vitamins and those weird Oriceran spices hit Maria full-force, comforting her. “Wait here. I’ll be down with it in a moment. I don’t think Sherlock wants to miss it.”

Yeah, no way I can get up the stairs, Sherlock grumbled. Maria laughed and patted him on the head.

Gramps disappeared up the steps, whistling the birthday song from the music box. Maria still had it in her bag. It progressively felt like it was getting heavier and heavier. Maybe that was just the weight of the situation.

Upstairs, Gramps hardly made any noise. He isn’t trying to find something long forgotten…? The thought alone unnerved Maria.

Soon, he came back down the stairs. They creaked under his weight, and he no longer whistled. He held something in both hands, holding it out in front of him. Each step was careful, as if he was too afraid of falling and dropping whatever it was. Maria couldn’t see what it was; it was covered in a velvet sheet, the edges fringed.

Maria stood up and wiped her sweaty palms on the thighs of her jeans.

“This right here is very dear to my heart,” Gramps said.

“Was it my mother’s?”

Gramps shook his head. “No. This one is mine.”

“Oh, boy,” Maria said under her breath. She could only imagine what it was. The eye of a newt, some weird Oriceran voodoo doll; maybe a necklace of garlic to protect her around the giant, bloodsucking spiders…or was that only for vampires?

Gramps took a knee. He looked like an ancient quarterback trying to run out the clock during the Super Bowl.

“Take the cover off,” he instructed. “But be very careful. Very careful.”

Maria hesitated. “It’s not going to bite me, is it?”

“No. Go on.”

She grabbed the velvet and pulled it away. The silver blade caught the light above, reflecting it. The room lit up like the Fourth of July.

Maria put a hand to her mouth.

“Gramps, is that—?”

She couldn’t believe it. Duke had shown her in his vision: Gramps had wielded this sword like a freaking Jedi wielded a lightsaber.

“Yes, Maria. It’s my sword.”

The hilt was wrapped leather, oily black, almost brand new, and golden brass. It ended in a circle, where a creature that Maria had never seen before was emblazoned in the metal. The cross guard formed a T, and the ends flared outward. They were also carved. It reminded Maria of Excalibur, the sword wielded by King Arthur.

It was beautiful. It was breathtaking. It was—

“Yours,” Gramps said softly. “It is all yours. I can no longer wield it. Take it.”

Maria reached out for the hilt.

Just don’t poke your eye out! Sherlock added. I can totally see you poking your, or my eye out with that thing.

As her hand wrapped around the hilt, visions of Oriceran exploded in her mind. Tall mountain ranges. Two moons. The Dark Forest. A drooling maw full of sharp, crooked fangs.

Still, it felt right, like driving the Firebird had felt right.

“Are you s-sure?” Maria asked.

Gramps nodded. His eyes gleamed as bright as the smooth metal of the sword. “It is only destiny. Your mother would kill me. She  wanted you trained in the ways of magic. But, Maria, I see something else in your future. I see you conquering all facets of the magic that runs through our homeworld. You will be more powerful than either me, or the Queen Witch. You will avenge your father and all those lost in that great battle so many years ago, and you will save those trapped in the world in between.”

“Geez, talk about a lot of pressure,” Maria muttered. She lifted the sword. It was surprisingly light, for how large it was. A cool confidence bolted through her. She was no longer Maria Apple, the girl who spent her days at Rolling Hill Mall serving popcorn, and who spent her nights with her nose in a book. Now she was Maria Mangood, heir to the Queen Witch, Avenger of Dominion, Bridge Between Worlds.

You actually don’t look as ridiculous as I thought you would with the sword, Sherlock said, sounding surprised. You actually look…cool.

“Gee, thanks,” she turned to face the Bloodhound.

“Sherlock, be nice to Maria,” Gramps added.

“Yeah, be nice to the girl who has the sword and the ability to use it,” Maria grinned.

Did I mention that I love you, Maria? And you’re the most awesomest person I’ve ever had the honor of conversing with.

“I’m the only person you have had the honor of conversing with.”

Sherlock did the canine equivalent of a shrug and said, It’s the thought that counts.

“Here, there’s more,” Gramps said. He produced a scabbard and a belt from one of the staircase’s steps. They were stitched together, the color of the brass hilt. Maria put it on and cinched it around her waist. It fit perfectly.

“Good thing I’m tall,” she said.

“Just like your mother and father,” Gramps said.

She put the sword in the sheath, and then drew it fast. It came easily and smoothly from its scabbard, almost as if it was propelled upward by…magic.

“We will work on many techniques in Oriceran. There are old friends to visit and places to see, but you must never neglect your training, Maria.”

“Great, it sounds like school all over again.”

“I’m serious, dear. The art of the sword is not one to take lightly. When we go through the portal—”

“Portal?” Maria interrupted. “Not lying this time?”

“How else did you think we were going to arrive on Oriceran? Did you think we could drive there?” Gramps barked laughter. “Portal, yes. We will take a portal to Oriceran, and things will be much different for you there. You are in touch with your magic side already, but on Oriceran, you will be surrounded by magic. You may feel a sort of sensory overload.”

“Wonderful,” Maria said,sarcastically. She sheathed the sword again. It felt like nothing around her waist and she began to take it off.

“What are you doing, Maria?” Gramps asked, his eyes bugging out.

“Well, you can’t expect me to go driving around Akron with a sword around my waist. The cops will shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Never mind the law. They will look the other way, I will make sure of it.”

“Magic?”

Gramps smiled slyly.

“Okay, I’m going to say my goodbye to Claire and Tabby. Do you want to meet up here, or…?”

“Not here, no. At Salem’s.”

“Oh, right. It’s a kemana. Or katana. Whatever that word was.”

Gramps smiled. “We will need to use the magic there to open the portal. It will not be an easy task; Salem and Agnes will have to help us.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there at…how does eleven sound?”

Gramps nodded. “Give me the music box, though. I don’t want you losing it while frolicking with your friends.”

Maria squinted at her grandfather and said, “Ew, Gramps, we don’t frolic. Whatever the hell that means.” She pulled the music box out of her bag. It weighed more than before…again.

She handed it over, and then turned and headed for the door, patting her thigh in an unconscious gesture for Sherlock to follow her and, equally unconsciously, Sherlock did.

“Maria,” Gramps called after her.

“Yeah, Gramps?”

“Keep that sword close, and keep your eyes peeled. Evil is afoot. I can sense it. It aches in my old bones.”

Maria nodded. “Don’t worry, Gramps. I got this.” But as soon as she turned away and went out the door, she patted the hilt of the sword, hoping it would give her courage.

It didn’t.

Evil was afoot. She could sense it, too.

***

Malakai had swung by the ice cream shop and, before he was twenty-five feet within its entrance, someone said, “Hey, Felah! Hey! Where have you been?”

Malakai ignored it and kept walking, but the voice got louder.

“Hey, where you been? We’ve been missing you down at the shop! That Tone still giving you trouble?”

Malakai stopped and turned around. It was daylight…barely. He wore the guise of the Silver Griffin named Felah Fyre—not only the clothing, but the skin and face, too.

“Felah? You feeling all right? You look a little gray.”

The man crossed the street. He was an old man. For a moment, Malakai, the one who’d died on Oriceran, thought it was Ignatius Mangood, and his still heart seemed to kick; but it wasn’t. This man was too short, too weak in the jaw.

“Don’t you recognize me?” the man asked.

“I’m sorry. Not feeling well,” Malakai answered, but it came out in Felah’s high-pitched tone, a perfect imitation. The amazements of magic knew no bounds. He gripped his belly and said, “Womanly troubles.”

“Ah, geesh, I don’t want to know that,” the man said. “I get enough of that at home. Well, I hope you feel better.”

Malakai nodded and began to walk in the direction of the ice cream shop again.

“Oh, hey, wait! One more thing,” the man said.

“Yes?”

“Tonight’s the night, okay? I know you covered for Ig after his granddaughter blew up that damn clown figure at Downview, but we need you to cover for us just one more night, okay?”

Malakai tilted Felah’s head.

“They found marks on Ig’s door. They think that putrid Arachnid is coming for the music box. We are sending the two of them back to Oriceran tonight, so you guys down in the Griffins will detect a pretty big influx of magic. Keep Tone and the hounds away from here until you know for sure they’re gone. We can’t have any attention drawn to us.”

Felah’s memories flooded Malakai’s brain. It was a thunderstorm inside of his head. Salem. That was the name of the wizard in front of him. Salem. He knew, because the witch he had overtaken knew.

Play it cool, a voice warned. Play it cool, or I’ll disembowel you.

It was the Widow’s voice. For the first time in a long time, Malakai felt fear. He shouldn’t have, but he did.

“Yes,” he said in Felah’s same sweet voice. “No problem, Salem. I’ll keep you guys safe from prying eyes.”

“Great. Thank you so much, Felah. We of the Old Farts’ Society owe you one.”

Malakai forced a smile, and it burned his face, his true face. “What are you doing out here, anyway?” he found himself asking. Instinct. That was what it was. Instinct overtaking his body and mind.

“Well, I’m not supposed to say,” Salem said conspiratorially. “But since I like you, I’ll tell ya. I’m guarding the shop. Looking out for giant spiders and the like. There have been some sightings of it in Ohio. Mostly popping up in the whacky sections of the paper—you know, the pages no one reads. But Malakai’s here; I can smell his stench. Arachnids can stink up a whole corner of the continent.”

Malakai’s knuckles cracked as he squeezed his hands into fists.

“So far, though…nothing,” Salem said. “Just as well. First sign of that eight-legged freak, and I’m gonna blow him back to hell with the rest of those creatures.”

Malakai’s smile wavered and he closed his eyes, grimacing.

“Oh, wow, you really don’t feel good, do you?”

Malakai didn’t answer. He just walked off, willing himself not to kill the wizard where he stood, and reminding himself that waiting would be worth it. The music box was mission number one. Once he had that in his possession, the blood of the vermin could spill into the streets. Tonight. He knew it would be tonight. He would make sure to come back, and he’d be ready for the kill. For the victory.

Salem watched Felah go, and a wave of worry bubbled in his gut.

Felah turned the corner and was lost behind the old antique store.

“Poor gal,” he said. He pulled his pipe out of his breast pocket and lit it. He sat back down on the bench and watched the street.

Waiting.

***

Maria arrived at Claire’s, wearing the sword, and moving with a talking Bloodhound at her heels. She caught her reflection in Claire’s glass storm door. God, she looked ridiculous wearing that thing, but she couldn’t will herself to take it off. Not only was her grandfather’s voice in the back of her head saying, ‘Keep the sword close,’ but also another voice—a voice warning her about the oncoming storm.

“Oh, hey, what’s up, Conan the Barbarian?” Claire said as she came out the front door. “I’m sorry, have you seen my friend Maria anywhere lately? Turns out she’s a witch and, after that, things just got even crazier. I’m worried someone took her to the insane asylum.”

“Har-har, real funny,” Maria said.

It actually was, Sherlock said. You do kind of look like Conan…minus the Arnold muscles and stuff.

“Shush.”

“Mom, would let you come in, but she said you look borderline crazy, and she has a strict rule about weapons in the house,” Claire said. The two girls and Sherlock walked around to Claire’s backyard. She had a semi-enclosed patio where they liked to sit when the sun was going down. The sun had already gone down, though, so they walked to the swing set instead. Sherlock bounded up the plastic slide off to the right while Maria and Claire sat down on the swings. They were both too big for them, and Maria’s sheathed sword dragged across the dewy grass.

“So what did you want to talk about, Jack Sparrow?” Claire quipped.

“Jack Sparrow doesn’t have a sword, does he?”

“I don’t know, but you are one eyepatch and metal-hook-for-a-hand away from going full pirate, my friend.”

“Really, you’re so sweet,” Maria said, a fake smile on her face. “When’s Tabby getting here?”

“Should be here any min—”

Near the front of the house, they heard a car door slam shut.

“Looks like right now,” Claire said. “How did Conan the Barbarian not hear the car miles away?”

“Shut up,” Maria said.

Sherlock looked at Maria, thinking she was talking to him.

“Not you, numb-nuts.”

Hey, if you’re gonna insult me, get it right! I can’t have numb nuts if I have NO nuts, because you heartless people sent me to the vet!

“Couldn’t have you humping my stuffed animals and peeing all over the house. We’ve been over this,” Maria said.

“Huh?” Claire asked.

“Oh, nothing. I was talking to Sherlock.”

“Right, almost forgot you could talk to the Bloodhound. Is it all dogs, or just him?”

“So far, unfortunately, just him.”

Sherlock stuck his tongue out at her. Then he went back to trying to snatch fireflies out of the air, his jaw snapping closed wetly, without much luck.

Tabby walked to the backyard. She looked beautiful, dressed in a red blouse and tight jeans. Her lipstick was dark, which made her pale skin seem to glow in the night. “Hey, gals,” she said.

“What are you all dressed up for?” Maria asked.

“Yeah, have a hot date?” Claire echoed and made smooching sounds. Muah, muah, muah, muah!

“Actually, I did. I went to the movies with Cody,” Tabby said. She stood in front of the two girls on the swing set and looked down at her heels, which were also red.

“What!? Cody? No way!” Claire said. “How much did you have to pay him?”

“Boo!” Tabby said. “What, you don’t think I could get that?”

“Not really,” Claire said.

“I do,” Maria said. “You look great, Tabby.” She didn’t care for the banter any longer. She had her own news to drop on her friends, though not as good.

“Thank you, Maria,” Tabby said, eyeing her up and down. “You look…good, too. Sword and all.” Then she looked at Claire and said, “Did I miss a memo? Is there an early Halloween party going on?” The two girls laughed.

Maria just took it. “Very funny. Get it out, get it all out of your systems.”

You look like a pirate’s ass, Sherlock said.

Maria shot him a death stare. “I know magic now, buddy. Watch out.”

Sherlock ignored her and made that weird laughing sound, like a hyena barking.

“Did she just talk to her dog?” Tabby asked. “Well, as if this night couldn’t get any weirder.”

“Told you,” Claire said.

Maria closed her eyes and thought of the vision Duke had shown her. It was enough to send prickles of anger all up and down her body. And in the darkness, her skin glowed blue. Tabby brought a hand to her mouth and gasped. “Whoa, Maria, we need to get you to a hospital.”

“That’s what I said!” Claire said.

“No, you didn’t,” Maria said. “You wanted to call ‘Ripley’s Believe it or Not!’ You don’t care about me, you punk.”

Claire stuck her tongue out.

“Aren’t you worried?” Tabby said. She was walking backward, hand still over her mouth. “What the heck is wrong with you, Maria?”

“It’s who I am,” Maria said. She got up. The light from her skin bathed the green grass in cobalt.

“An alien?” Tabby said.

Maria turned to look at Claire. “See? She got it.”

“Oh, my God, you’re an alien,” Tabby said. “I always thought you were a little weird, Maria, but this is bonkers.”

“Not exactly. It’s a long story, so I’ll sum it up for you, I’m—”

“A witch,” Claire finished. “And…Conan the Barbarian.”

“Don’t make me use this sword.”

Claire stuck her tongue out again, looking like Sherlock…oddly.

“Yes, I’m a witch. It explains a lot,” Maria said.

Tabby was shaking her head. “No, it really doesn’t. If anything, it raises more questions.”

“Yeah, that too,” Maria said. “But forget all of that for a second, okay? I have something important to tell you guys.”

“I think that ship has sailed,” Tabby said. “What could be more important than you being a witchy alien?”

“Oh, no!” Claire said. She rushed over to Maria and put a hand on her belly. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you? I could’ve sworn you were gaining a little weight around the middle.”

Maria slapped Claire’s hand away. “I’m getting closer and closer to using this sword. Don’t make me do it, guys.” She eyed both Tabby and Claire. “No, I’m not pregnant. It’s somehow crazier than that.”

Tabby opened her mouth. Maria cut her off.

“No more guessing. I’ll just freaking tell you. You two are my best friends, okay? So I couldn’t just leave without letting you know. I wanted us to have a proper goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Tabby said.

Maria nodded.

Get on with it, Sherlock said. All the fireflies caught on to my scheme. They went into hiding.

Maria ignored him. “I’m leaving,” she said.

“Like, where? On a vacation?” Claire asked. She swiped a hand through her hair and took a step forward. “I mean, if you’re going on a vacation, it would be cool if we could all go together.”

“Unless her grandpa is taking her to see the world’s biggest ball of yarn, or spoon, or something weird like that,” Tabby said and laughed.

“I could totally see him taking you to that,” Claire added.

Maria shrugged. In all honesty, one time Gramps had mentioned something about the world’s biggest plate of spaghetti. He was into weird stuff like that.

“No. It’s not a vacation. It’s more of a…mission.”

“ ‘A mission’?” they said in unison. “What are you, a secret agent?” Tabby added.

“Yeah, are you Jack Sparrow or Tom Cruise? You can’t be both.”

Maria didn’t see why not, but she had since thought of herself, in light of the recent discoveries, as a mix between Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Harry Potter. Except she wasn’t slaying vampires…yet. She was slaying giant spiders. Or at least, she hoped if it came down to it, she would come out on top.

Tom Sparrow has a nice ring to it, eh? Sherlock said.

Again, Maria ignored him.

“No, I’m going back where I came from,” Maria said.

“So, St. Thomas Hospital?” Tabby said.

That was it. Maria had tried to ease them into it. She wished she had proof, like she had proof when she and Claire were in the mall parking lot. Maybe a first class ticket to Oriceran or something like that. She was pretty sure it didn’t work that way.

“Oriceran! I’m going to Oriceran. I’m going to save that village of people I told you about, Claire! My village.”

Both girls stood saying nothing, trying to wrap their head around it.

Finally, Tabby spoke. “Oriceran? Isn’t that in South America?”

Maria sighed. She walked over and hugged them. They were both rigid as corpses. She wished this meeting could’ve gone better. There was a chance it could be their last meeting. But not everything works out the way you want it to in life — a lesson Gramps had taught her when she was much younger.

“I love you both. I’m glad you are my friends.” She kissed each one on the cheek. Claire made an audible yeech noise. Maria ignored it. “I hope I see you again. My heart tells me I will, but the path ahead is unclear. I can’t say for certain.”

“Geez, you’re starting to sound like your grandpa,” Tabby said. “Weird.”

Maria said nothing. She snapped her fingers, motioning for Sherlock to follow her. His toenails clicked on the plastic slide as he came down, and the two of them left Claire’s backyard.

A talking dog, and a telepathic witch with a sword on her hip.

Sometimes, the world was very weird indeed, Maria thought.

***

As she walked down the dark street, fearing nothing besides the future, Maria thought there was one person she had wished she could’ve said goodbye to.

Joe. The cute security guard she’d had a schoolgirlish crush on for the better part of her time employed at Rolling Hill Mall.

‘Better part’? Who are you kidding, Maria? she shook her head while rounding the corner of Jean Street, which lead to Main. It was love at first freaking sight; that crap you see in romance movies that you never believed.

Sherlock sniffed at some roadkill, and Maria nudged him. “Don’t do that,” she said.

You aren’t my boss, Sherlock responded.

“For a while, I thought I was. Until you opened your mouth…well, I guess you don’t really open your mouth to talk. Telepathy and all.”

Magic, Sherlock corrected. If I want to sniff dead squirrels, I can.

“I guess. Just don’t eat them. Can’t afford to have you puking while we portal through worlds, or whatever the hell we’re doing.” Maria noted how silly it sounded, saying it aloud. She still couldn’t believe it. So much had happened to her in such a short span of time. She thought if she took a moment to let it all sink in that she might go crazy. Crazy would not be good; not with a giant spider potentially stalking her for a music box that, somehow, was a key to the purgatory world, where the things we know of as ghosts roamed and rattled their chains.

Maria shuddered.

Why do you seem so down? Sherlock asked.

Maria gasped sarcastically, put a hand to her heart. “Aw, wow, Sherlock, I didn’t know you were so concerned.”

I’m not. You’re just kind of a drag to be around right now. Ruining all my dead-squirrel-sniffing festivities. I mean, come on. You had your little goodbyes. Don’t I get something? I’m a Bloodhound, for crying out loud. Sniffing is what I do!

“If you really want to go sniff roadkill, I guess you can…”

Nah, the feeling’s passed. I’m hungry now.

“Jesus, do you ever stop being hungry?”

He shook his head. But seriously, Maria, why are you so down?

“I guess it’s just all of this, you know?”

So not because you really wanted to sniff the dead squirrel, too?

Maria screwed her face up in disgust.

Guess not.

“I’m sad because I’m leaving a life behind.”

Not much of one, if you ask me.

“Well, I didn’t.” Maria crossed her arms. Pissed off by a dog? What is the world coming to?

Well you don’t have a boyfriend, you lost your job, you aren’t in school…hell, you don’t even have a car, Sherlock counted off.

“Gramps was gonna give me the Firebird. I know he was!”

I think he’d give it to me before he gave it to you. Sherlock stuck out his tongue.

Maria laughed and patted him on the butt.

Whoa! Buy me a drink first.

Maria rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Sherlock.”

‘Thanks’?

A car went by. Maria checked to make sure their windows were up. She hated the idea of anyone besides Tabby and Claire knowing she talked to her dog like this. Their windows were up, but it didn’t stop the older man and woman from giving Maria and her Bloodhound a long, hard look.

“Must be the sword. Man, people aren’t too big on the sword these days.”

Wrong era, Sherlock said. But why are you thanking me again?

“Because you always know how to make me feel better. I mean, look at me. Two days ago, I was a somewhat normal girl. Now I’m a witch who can communicate with dead kid soldiers and a dog, walking the streets close to midnight with a sword on my hip. Talk about a complete 180…and I don’t completely know if it’s a good turnaround.”

You’re welcome, I guess, Sherlock said. And thank you.

Now Maria stopped. Sherlock stopped, too. “Thank me?”

Yeah. The voice coming inside of Maria’s head was now a whisper.

“For?”

For…you know…being a good owner. I’ve seen the way some dogs are treated. I’ve seen TV shows where Bloodhounds are only used for their award-winning, crime-solving noses. I’ve lived a good life of hanging around, sleeping, and doing whatever I want. You know, except for sniffing dead squirrels.

“At least when I’m around.”

Sherlock nodded, his big floppy ears shaking with the movement.

“You’re welcome. You’re family, Sherlock.”

Aw, don’t get all sappy with me, Maria, please. I don’t want to—

“Cry?” Maria guessed.

Bloodhounds don’t cry. We solve crimes!

But Maria saw his eyes were watery all the same. Well, more watery than normal.

They came upon Main Street. The lights of Salem’s sign were off, but the there was one light on in the back. The senior magic brigade. She wondered if they would be playing cards, like they were the night before. Probably not; not on a night like tonight. A solid lump of fear rose up her throat. She stopped.

This was it. This was the end.

Sherlock looked up at her. What is it?

“I’m not ready. I don’t feel right leaving yet.”

Why not? You said your goodbyes to Claire and Tabby. He lifted his paw up and examined it like he was a human counting his fingers. Far as I know you don’t have any other friends, unless you count Ted a friend, but he’s a royal asshole and a half. Hm. Who could I be leaving out? Oh! I know! Sherlock proceeded to make kissing sounds, which did not, in fact, sound much like kissing sounds at all. They were more of a slobbery chomp-chomp.

Joe.

“Shut up,” Maria said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maria, I’ve known you since you were a pup. He snickered. See what I did there?

Maria glared at him.

Okay, listen, if you’d feel better saying bye to Joe, I don’t see the harm.

“No, I couldn’t. That would be so weird. I can’t just show up at his house and say, ‘Surprise! I’m leaving and that kinda sucks because I have a huge crush on you but I don’t know when or if I’ll be back at all, so what’s the point?’”

You make a good point there.

“Plus, the village. I think most of the dread inside of me is coming from them. They’re counting on me, and I don’t know if I can really — ”

Stop! Sherlock said. You’re Maria Apple. You can do whatever you put your mind to. You were raised by Ignatius Apple. You always do what’s right and what’s good. I think you could’ve saved them before you even discovered that you were a witch.

Maria bent down. There were tears in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around Sherlock.

“Thank you, Sherlock,” she said. “I needed that.” She kissed him on the bridge of his nose.

Blech! No kissing! New rule. No kissing!

“But we’re friends,” Maria said playfully.

Sherlock shook his head. No, no, I don’t have friends.

“What about that dead squirrel back there?” Maria asked, a smile on her lips. She was obviously joking, but Sherlock didn’t catch the joke.

Well, you didn’t give me much time to get acquainted with it. Could’ve been a long and fruitful relationship. I should’ve defied you, put all four of my feet down.

“Paws,” Maria corrected.

Whatever. I don’t think there are any squirrels on Oriceran.

“There are Gnomes.”

Sherlock’s ears perked up.

Gnomes? You mean those little bastards with the red pointy hats? Fuck them. No promises.

“Sherlock…”

Fine. I won’t kill any.

Maria crossed her arms again and tapped her foot on the sidewalk. She was glad the roads were deserted. She couldn’t imagine how ridiculous she looked right then.

Fine. I won’t kill, I promiseeeee. But I can’t promise I won’t pee on them.

“I guess that’s a step in the right direction, but when you start a war or something, I don’t know if I can fight on your side. Being a part of a war fought over urine spilt is not on my bucket list.” Then, Maria put on her game face, which was really just squinting her eyes and clamping her jaw shut. “Now, let’s go do this. Let’s save that fucking village.”

Sherlock barked, and the two of them took off toward the ice cream shop.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

They went in the backdoor, like they had the night before. Salem, Agnes, and the Muffler twins sat at the same table. The cards were out, but they played no games.

Gramps paced back and forth by the freezers full of ice cream.

When Maria and Sherlock walked in, Gramps’s head shot up. “Maria!” He rushed over to her, moving much faster than his age should’ve allowed. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He hugged her tight.

Maria wheezed. She caught the time on the clock. It was only 11:04 P.M. So she was four minutes late; not the end of the world.

“I said 11:00,” Maria said when Gramps ended the hug.

“I know, I know, but something terrible happened,” Gramps said.

The others sitting around the table wouldn’t lift their heads up to look at either her or Gramps.

“What?” Maria said, dread sinking in her stomach. Am I too late? Did Malakai do what he wanted to do, even without the music box? Had he taken in from Gramps?

“There’s been an attack. Two agents of the Order of the Silver Griffins have gone missing,” Gramps said.

“Ah, you scared me,” Maria said, somewhat relieved. “I thought it was the music box!”

Gramps took it from the table behind him, which Maria hadn’t seen, and handed it to her. It gave her strength.

“Okay, missing? What does that mean?” she asked, but she knew what it meant.

It meant a giant spider was definitely close.

“There’s been more sightings,” Salem said. His voice was very soft, much softer than normal. “I was the last one to see Felah. I feel so terrible.” He put his head in his hands. Agnes rubbed his back. The Muffler twins simultaneously wiped tears away from the corners of their eyes.

“And you think Malakai had something to do with it?” Maria probed. Instinct was taking over, an instinct she’d not felt before.

“If…if he did, I fear there is no hope,” Gramps said. He looked at the checkered-tile floor.

The mood in the ice cream shop was heavy. Sherlock hadn’t even gone sniffing around the freezers for drops of melted vanilla or double fudge.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Maria said. “I’m sure she and the other agent just went on vacation or something.” An odd thought popped into her head. “Maybe they ran away to Vegas and got married!”

Agnes snorted. “Unlikely. Tone and Felah? If that happened, then I’ve lived to see it all,” the old witch said. A smile touched her lips, but there was no humor in it.

“Well, even if they’re not fine for the moment, I’m sure they’ll turn up,” Maria said. She was absent-mindedly stroking Sherlock, whose body was rigid. Is fear doing this? To both of us?

No one said anything for a long moment.

“I’ll go by myself, then,” Maria proclaimed. She stepped forward. “Open a portal.” She gazed around the room for a button. Will it be marked ‘PORTAL’? “How does it work? Do I have to text them or something? Is there an app for it like, you know, Uber?”

“ ‘Uber’?” one of the Muffler twins, Ginny, said. “Now that is a spell I’ve not heard before.”

“No, it’s an…” Maria trailed off. Not worth it. Explaining technology to old people, magical or not, was always a pain. “Never mind.” She looked at Gramps. “I have to go,” she said. “I have to go and find out how to get to the world in between.”

“I can’t let you go on your own,” Gramps said. “But until this business with Malakai is settled, I’m afraid our trip must be delayed.”

Giant man-spiders and portals, oh my.

It was like ripping off a Band-Aid for Maria. The longer she put off leaving, the harder the pain of actually doing it hit her. Pretty soon, she was sure she would chicken out. There had to be a way to open a portal without her grandfather. She was powerful, right?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Gramps said.

“Doesn’t he always?” Salem said.

Agnes chuckled. Just like her smile before, there was no humor in the chuckle.

“Creating a portal to an unknown world can be dangerous, Maria. You would risk your life?” Gramps asked.

“For the village, yes, I would,” Maria answered.

“She is your granddaughter,” Agnes said. “That much is true.”

Ignatius grinned at her. Then he looked at Maria, who was still stroking Sherlock. “Just be patient, Maria.”

“Be patient until we’re attacked by a giant spider? Until we’re possibly dead? How do we know he’s not watching us right now?” Maria said.

“Because I would sense him,” Salem said. He stood up and peered out the window. “Because I would sense such…evil. I’ve been around it all too much in my life, both on Oriceran and Earth. And I’m—” He stopped.

“What is it?” Agnes said.

“Yes, what is it?” the Muffler twins asked in unison. Maria thought their singsong voices were quite creepy.

“It’s…it’s Felah!” Salem shouted. He pressed his face up against the front windows, cupping his hands to shield his view from any light streaming in.

***

Malakai had watched the ice cream shop in his true form, standing in the window of a now vacant house on Graham Road, just off of Main Street, adjacent to Salem’s. The house had not always been vacant.

It was owned by a newlywed couple, Kevin and Melinda.

Malakai still had their blood on his mouth and claws.

He waited for the portal to open. Surely, he would see the light; that way he would know the music box was definitely there. You didn’t storm a haven of witches and wizards unless you were absolutely sure that what you wanted was inside, or you risked becoming a black stain across the road.

But no portal opened. They were just standing there, talking.

Waiting.

“I am so close, Master,” Malakai said aloud. He knew the Widow would be watching him, and would hear his voice, carried across the worlds. He knew she would not interfere, because he would not fail.

But he could wait no longer. The thought of them opening the portal without him seeing crossed his mind as the minutes rolled on. Have I missed  my chance? Will I have to track them to Oriceran, across the vast lands and places where Arachnids are not welcome?

No. He wouldn’t get the chance. If he missed the portal, the Widow would kill him. Again.

Would it be so bad, to die? I could rest. That is where I am supposed to be, not here, not on this sorry excuse for a planet called Earth.

No.

The mission is clear. He was resurrected for one purpose, and he refused to fail; not for the Widow, but for himself.

He closed his eyes and licked the blood away from his claws.

In his head, the words to the spell rolled, and he transformed. He could feel the skin change, the bones move, the hair grow.

Inside, he remained the same. Empty.

He left the house and headed for the shop, looking like Felah Fyre.

***

Salem threw open the door.

“See?” Maria said, looking at Agnes, Ignatius, and the Muffler twins. “I told you it would all work out.”

Salem was half-hanging out of the door, waving emphatically to Felah. She moved lithely, her head up high, a smile on her face. But still…

There is something wrong with that smile, Maria thought. It’s…off.

“Fine,” Gramps said. “We’ll open the portal. Let’s just make sure Felah is okay.”

“Better wait until she leaves,” Agnes advised. “Salem and I will take her back to the headquarters if she’s hurt.”

Ignatius nodded.

Salem stepped out of the shop and stood on the sidewalk. The door closed, ringing the bell above. Maria turned to head to the back room when Sherlock growled.

Maria stopped in her tracks. “Sherlock?”

He kept growling, looking toward Salem and Felah. They were talking animatedly.

The bad feeling came back.

Maria reached for her sword. She did so on instinct. Gramps was already headed out the front door. He hadn’t heard Sherlock’s growling—old age combined with Sherlock’s low growl didn’t help.

“Gramps,” Maria called sharply.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. First, confusion passed over his face; then realization that one of his best friends was potentially in danger. He went for the door again, his heart thundering in his chest.

“Salem!” he shouted.

But it was too late.

Felah Fyre changed.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The front show windows exploded inward, raining pieces of glass all over the inside of the ice cream store. Salem went flying through the air, and he would’ve kept going if a freezer hadn’t stopped his momentum.

Agnes screamed. Something shot through the open window; it looked like a streak of gray lightning. It landed with a splat, and Agnes’s screams were cut off. Maria turned and saw what looked like a rotten spiderweb, plastered over Agnes’s face. Agnes fell backward, bucking and kicking, clawing at the grayness.

It was mayhem. Smoke and dust clouded Maria’s vision, but the sword was on her hip and she drew it.

“Gramps!” she shouted trying to see him through the gloom. He had already rushed to Salem’s side. Maria made her way over there. Ignatius was kneeling next to Agnes. He waved his hand, and the spiderweb around Agnes’s mouth fell free. She took a deep breath.

The Muffler twins screamed as more webs sliced through the air. One struck them at the same time, and they went tumbling to the floor, their legs wrapped up together.

Maria looked back to the broken window. The smoke and fog had settled. She could see the figure standing there. It was enough to freeze her heart, because the figure standing there wasn’t a female wizard anymore. Now it was something unholy, and Maria witnessed the change in all its disgustingness.

The skin bubbled from the bone so far out that it seemed to rip. Maria heard it, even over all the pandemonium.

“It’s him,” Gramps confirmed. “Maria, stay back.”

From each of the woman’s arms, two more sprouted. Black as midnight, black as death. The stomach zigged and zagged, clothes ripping. Then it burst open, and the rippled abdomen of some dark creature took its place.

Maria’s blood went cold. Her knees locked in place. All the saliva in her mouth dried up, and she couldn’t swallow.

Sherlock no longer growled. Shocked, he said, What in the actual fuck?

Maria wanted to say ‘I don’t know,’ but she couldn’t even bring herself to do that.

Lastly, Felah’s face changed. The eyes bubbled like the skin had, but somehow it was worse…much worse. The pupils stretched until they became translucent and Maria could see the ridged brow beneath. The nose elongated. Fangs sprouted from the grim line that was once Felah’s mouth.

“Cloaking spell,” Agnes sighed. “Should’ve known. How could we be so stupid?” she asked, shaking her head.

Gramps put a hand on her. She held Salem in her lap; his face was scratched and bloody, but Maria noted his chest rising and falling intermittently. He was alive—barely, but still alive.

“It doesn’t matter,” Gramps said gruffly. “What’s done is done. Now I must face the consequences.”

Maria gripped the hilt of her new sword tight. Her palms were slick with sweat. She thrust it out toward Gramps. “Here,” she said. “It’s yours.”

He shook his head. Then he spoke, raising his voice to the abomination standing on the sidewalk in front of him. “Malakai! You are outnumbered. There are six wizards and witches here of great power. It would be wise to turn around and leave.”

The hair on top of Felah’s mutilated scalp fell away. A breeze caught it and took it dancing down the empty dark street, like tumbleweed in a Western film.

The last part of Felah’s pale skin ripped away and the Arachnid beast stood in full view. Maria watched as his mouth opened in reply. “The music box,” he said, his voice very Darth Vader-ish. “That’s all I want.”

“It is not yours,” Ignatius Apple, formerly known as Ignatius Mangood, said. “I don’t want to kill you again.”

Badass line, Sherlock said.

“Quiet,” Maria managed to say.

On the ends of Malakai’s fingers were jagged silver claws. Maria saw bristly hairs on each arm and leg. The creature was naked in the most basic sense, but she saw no sex on him. Just fangs and claws.

She took a step forward. “You heard the man. Get out of here,” she said. Her voice was infused with power. Her skin glowed a darker blue than before, but she didn’t know it. She was angry. Close to that anger, though, was fear.

Malakai threw his head back in laughter. This was not the creature she had seen in Duke’s vision. This creature was more jarring—as if a giant man-like spider wasn’t jarring enough. Malakai was dead already, and you could see it in the way he stood, proud, his chest thrust out, a creature with nothing to lose.

That laughter, when it hit them, sent gooseflesh all up and down their arms.

“I’ve come for more than the box,” Malakai admitted. “I’ve lied. Yes. I guess I’m a liar and a murderer. That precious woman whose skin I wore is long gone. Not even her bones remain. I ate them, too.”

Sickening. I wouldn’t even do that, Sherlock said. And I’ve been known to sniff other dogs’ asses.

Maria was glad Malakai couldn’t hear Sherlock’s thoughts like she could; otherwise she was sure he would’ve been killed a long time ago.

“I’ve come for your head, Ignatius. I’ve come to kill you for what you did to me on Oriceran.”

Gramps turned around, facing Malakai. Maria wanted to reach out to him and stop him before Malakai could attack.

“I did what I had to do, Malakai,” Gramps said. He bent down and placed his hand on Salem’s chest. An odd electric buzz filled the air; Maria’s hair stood on end, and the fur on the back of Sherlock’s neck rose in hackles.

Salem’s eyes flew open. He convulsed and then took a deep breath. Agnes caught him as he lay back down, his chest rising and falling in regular intervals. Maria did not know that Ignatius had just saved the old wizard’s life. The spell he had just summoned was similar to a defibrillator used by EMTs.

“I did what I had to do for Dominion. For the village. And I will do what I have to do for the ones I love,” Ignatius said.

He spun around. Lightning rippled up and down his arm. He thrust his hand outward, and a great burst of white electricity sliced through the air. Maria shielded her eyes.

Malakai cried out as he took the blunt force of the magic square in the chest. He was knocked back a few feet into the street, but he didn’t fall.

Maria didn’t know how. Her jaw hung open.

Shock passed over Gramps’s face—eyes wide, lips parted.

That should’ve sent him back to the Dark Ages, he thought. Oh, he’s more powerful than I thought he’d be. This isn’t good. We are hurt. Salem is down. Agnes’s mind is preoccupied by Salem. The Muffler twins are of no use. And Maria, my dear Maria, she is not ready. Not yet.

Maria stepped forward. The same fear that had settled in her chest now struck Ignatius.

“Maria,” he demanded. “Stay back!”

“No,” she said fiercely.

So much like her mother, he thought, proud, sad, and worried all at once.

Maria took off, with the same blade that had slain Malakai once before held high above her head. Sherlock was at her side, barking ferociously—the dog Ignatius had known to be scared of thunderstorms and, on some occasions, fireworks.

The battle had started, whether Ignatius was ready or not. More blood would be spilt, that much he knew for sure.

But whose blood?

That was the true question.

***

Maria saw the smoking hole in the giant spider’s chest. Black blood leaked from it. She wondered briefly if something dead could feel pain. According to the anguish on Malakai’s face, she assumed they could.

Good.

Because Malakai had worlds of pain coming to him. The ice cream shop may not have been Maria’s go-to hangout spot, but Gramps and all his friends were her friends, too. They were her tribe. If you messed with Maria’s tribe, there was hell to pay.

She screamed as she ran upon Malakai.

He wants me to fear him. But I won’t let him see my fear.

Her screams were drowned out by Sherlock’s mad barking. A great love for the dog sprouted in her mind. She didn’t fear for her own life anymore; she feared for Sherlock’s, and for her grandfather’s, and for Salem’s, and for all those of the Senior Citizen Magic Brigade.

She had to put an end to it. Their lives were the most important…theirs and the village of Dominion’s.

She thrust the sword out in front of her. Fencing was not her game; she liked kickboxing and the occasional video game. Hell, she watched Game of Thrones, and the swordplay on there looked so intricate and difficult. No way could she be on that level.

But as the sword went out in front of her, and Malakai deflected her first strike, the hopelessness of the situation wasn’t complete. Swordplay apparently came natural to Maria.

She swung again.

Malakai deflected it once more, but a spark came off of his forearm. The chitinous armor of his spider DNA felt like concrete, and each blocked strike reverberated back up into Maria’s arm.

One sword versus six of those spider legs was not a fair fight. As Maria swung for a third time, picturing Luke Skywalker in her mind’s eye, a cold hand closed around her throat. The sharp claws dug into her flesh. She felt blood trickle down her neck.

“Ah—” she gurgled.

Malakai’s laughter boomed like thunder.

“Come any closer, Ignatius, and I pop her head off. You know I can do it.”

“Malakai, please. This is between you and I. Leave Maria out of it.”

Malakai tilted his head. “But it’s not, is it? This one here owns the music box; the music box that was stolen from the Arachnids. She is as much a part of the conflict as I am.”

Maria’s face turned from red to purple, slowly edging on black. Her vision went swimmy. Sherlock barked and barked, but the sound grew distant.

Still, she tried to talk. “F-F-F—”

The beast’s eight red eyes, glowing like dying embers, found hers through the darkness.

“What is that?” Malakai asked mockingly. “S-S-S-Spit it out!”

He laughed again.

The force upon her windpipe lessened. Cool night air flooded her lungs, tasting both amazing and bitter. Almost painful.

“Go ahead,” Malakai said. “Say your last words. Make them count. Last words; that’s a pretty big deal. You don’t want to waste them.”

His black lips were turned up into a smile, the fangs dripping venom in thick, pus-like gobs.

“F-F-Fuck you,” Maria said. And with the little bit of strength she had conserved, she kicked out. Her knee connected with the fizzling hole in Malakai’s chest.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to surprise the Arachnid. He screamed out and his grip around Maria vanished. She still felt phantom fingers there; she always would.

She hit the street with a bone-crushing force that numbed her ass. Sherlock rushed toward her, his eyes wary, never leaving the creature that was bent over in the middle of Main Street.

You okay? Sherlock asked.

“Could be better,” Maria wheezed.

She wasted no time in getting up and finding her sword. When the hilt filled her hand, she felt stronger.

“No, Maria!” Gramps begged. “Run!”

She would never run. It was not in her DNA. Both Maria and Ignatius knew that.

Besides, run or not, the end was near. She could sense it.

***

“Do you believe her?” Tabby asked Claire. They were inside. Everyone had gone to bed. On the TV, the original Halloween played. Claire wasn’t a huge horror movie buff, but Tabby couldn’t get enough of them.

“I saw her skin glow,” Claire said.

“You don’t think she’s just going crazy like her grandpa?”

“Could be.”

Michael Myers watched Laurie Strode from behind a bush. Claire involuntary broke out in goosebumps.

“But she didn’t seem crazy to me,” Claire said. “There are usually signs: hearing voices, babbling, screaming, that kind of stuff.”

“She seemed like she was babbling and hearing voices to me. Didn’t she talk to you about a kid named Duke who told her all of this? If that’s not schizo, I don’t know what is,” Tabby said. She looked toward the television and smiled at the sheer creepiness of the film.

Claire had always thought Tabby was weird, but now Maria took the crown as her weirdest friend.

“Yeah, she did,” Claire answered. She put her hands over her face, expecting a jump-scare from the movie. Nothing happened, as was often the case in classic horror movies like Halloween, Carrie, and The Shining. “But I think she meant it,” Claire finished.

“You really do?” Tabby asked incredulously.

Claire turned toward Tabby. A bowl of popcorn sat in the crease of the couch cushions between them.

“Now she’s talking about going to another freaking planet? Doesn’t that sound a little weird to you, Claire? I’m worried. I’m honestly worried,” Tabby said.

“Why can’t that be real? Who’s to say there can’t be witches and wizards and other planets with intelligent life out there? You’re telling me you don’t believe any of that stuff; in all the vastness that is our universe, you don’t believe there are things out there beyond our comprehension?” Claire felt the need to get intellectual on Tabby. Sometimes that was the only way to make your point, her dad had once told her. Sound smart and people will believe you. “Sure, we’re lacking any concrete evidence, but do you believe in God, Tab?”

Tab arched an eyebrow. “God? How are we on the subject of God?”

“Answer the question.”

“Yeah, I do believe in God.” Tabby motioned to the crucifix around her neck. “I don’t really see how that much matters.”

Claire waved a hand. “I’m just saying if you can believe in God, why can’t you believe in witches and wizards and aliens?”

Tabby shook her head. “Watch the movie,” she said.

They did.

When it was over, they sat on the couch in an uncomfortable silence. Cages had been rattled. Normally, friends as close as Tabby and Claire were above uncomfortable silences—at least, since they’d been out of high school.

“I’m still worried about Maria,” Claire said, breaking the silence. Tonight was supposed to be a movie marathon. Neither one had turned on the next movie after Halloween ended. It was Claire’s choice, too. She was going to pick The Notebook; a real palette cleanser after a slasher flick.

Tabby didn’t answer. She must’ve been madder than Claire had originally thought. She turned to hug her best friend and end the animosity, but when she saw her, she froze.

Tabby’s mouth hung open, her jaw nearly came to her collarbone. In her right hand, she held her iPhone. Her face was pale, the white glow from the screen washing away her features.

“What?” Claire said, fearing the worst. “What is it?”

No answer.

“Tab!”

Finally, Tabby turned her head to answer. Claire could hear the creak in her neck. Tabby didn’t answer with her voice; she was currently unable to speak. Any words that tried to escape her mouth fizzled and turned to vapor before they could come out. No, she answered by turning her cell phone toward Claire.

Claire screamed.

It was worse than any horror movie, worse than her worst nightmare, worse than everything bad she’d ever seen—and Claire had seen her grandmother’s dried out organs, when the platform that her casket rested upon during viewing hours collapsed and spilled her body. Before Claire saw the image on Tabby’s screen, the incident at her grandmother’s viewing hours was at the top of her most depraved moments list, but now it was bumped to second.

What Claire saw was a spider; a giant man-like spider, its limbs dipped in the shining red of blood. And Claire knew that the beast was not fake.

It was real, and it was what Maria had talked to her about.

“Oh, God,” Tabby said. “Did Andy really see that?”

Andy Franz posted the picture on his Instagram page. It was uploaded just an hour ago. Tabby recognized the house that the creature stood in front of as the big blue one off of Main Street. The picture was blurry, but Claire could see enough to know it wasn’t a hoax, and that what Maria had told her in the parking lot at Rolling Hill Mall was true.

Unfortunately.

“Yeah. Yeah, he did.” Claire managed to say once the shock of the picture subsided. “And keep talking to God…we’re gonna need him. We’re really gonna need him.” She got up from the couch, the cushions wheezing as she did. She put on her shoes, which were by the front door. On the coat rack, devoid of all coats, was her key ring.

“What the fuck?” Tabby said, breathless. “Where are you going?”

“You mean, where are we going?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until I see a different picture, one that shows that creature dead and surrounded by a SWAT team.” Somehow, Tabby knew that giant spider was not fake…and neither was the blood. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did.

“Yeah, you are. I don’t think a SWAT team is going to be able to handle that thing. Only one person can.”

“Who?” Tabby asked. She started to get up—she already knew who.

“Maria Apple. The third leg of our tripod. Come on; let’s go find her. We have to help her. Or at least warn her that the creature is close.”

Tabby took a deep breath. She looked up to the ceiling and closed her eyes. In her head, she said a silent prayer to God.

***

Gramps’s voice boomed. The thunder in it was enough to rival Oriceran’s biggest storms.

Maria sprang forward with the sword in her hand. She chopped at Malakai’s shoulder, and he danced away, spinning on his toes like the world’s most sadistic ballerina.

But he was not fast enough. The blade tore down his back; the sound of steel scraping steel filled the air again and set Maria’s teeth on edge. Sparks shimmered off her blade. Her skin was the color of nebulas, of comets burning in the vast expanses of the dark universe. She could feel the magic all around her. The ice cream shop’s power oozed and flowed through her, but it also flowed through the Arachnid.

Sherlock barked madly, but he stayed back, out of harm’s way, injecting his comments heedlessly. Kick his spider ass, Maria. That’s it! You almost got him! Come on! He was Maria’s own telepathic cheering squad.

Gramps shouted his spells. Lightning rose up and struck Malakai, driving him farther back. That was all they did. Maria had the idea that these types of spells and incantations would be enough to topple over buildings, yet they seemed to bounce off of Malakai’s chitinous armor.

Maria swung down again, this time going for the chink of flesh missing and leaking his black blood. She gritted her teeth and shouted with all her might. The magic buzzed inside of her head, but she could not control it, not yet. The only thing she could control was her blade. And as it whistled through the air, she tasted the victory on the tip of her tongue—the victory and the blood.

Thunk.

The Arachnid’s two bottom arms caught the sword. Malakai’s hands looked like he was ready to pray to some dark god. His top right arm came up and out in a gesture that seemed to say ‘Stop,’ and a burst of light deflected from his palm, setting his claws ablaze.

Maria’s eyes got bigger as Malakai’s glowed darker red.

Now he not only deflected her blows and her grandfather’s spells, but he absorbed them, it seemed. To Maria, he appeared taller, larger, stronger.

He opened his mouth and cackled. All the damned voices of hell escaped his throat with that laugh. Maria’s hands went weak. She felt the sword slip from her grasp.

“No!” she shouted, but it was too late. The blade was free. No longer was it her blade. Now it belonged to Malakai.

“Maria!” Gramps shouted.

With one of his other hands, Malakai pushed Maria to the street. Her head clonked off of the pavement and her vision fuzzed out. She yelped in pain—should’ve rolled over and taken the loss, lest she lose her life, but already she was trying to scramble back up. ‘You get knocked down, you don’t stay down. You keep fighting.’ It was what her grandfather had once told her after a particularly nasty bout with the third grade playground bully Velma Sheers.

That’s all Malakai is, isn’t he? A bully. She was taught to stand up to bullies.

So Maria tried to stand up. She didn’t need a blade.

Malakai laughed again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her grandfather. He no longer slung spells in the Arachnid’s direction. He was too busy watching Maria, who was hunched over on the ground, trying to get up like a drunken woman who’d taken a particularly nasty spill.

Maria turned her focus back to Malakai. He cocked the sword behind his bulbous head, his eyes glowing so fiercely they were almost impossible to look at, like looking directly into the sun. He threw the blade.

But not at her.

It sliced through the air like a bullet. The spinning, glinting metal was all but a blur as it plunged toward her grandfather.

“Gramps, no!” she screamed.

But it was too late.

The sword struck him so hard, he didn’t even have a chance to cry out.

“NO!”

He fell over, his body crumpling into a frail mess of bones and skin. Maria couldn’t even see the sword any longer. She couldn’t see anything at all.

The fury and rage blinded her, and the magic took over.

She yelled words she didn’t understand, incantations and spells she’d picked up from her grandfather, either subconsciously or telepathically. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that the joy on Malakai’s face changed into pain and anguish, and he was driven back farther.

“This. Is. Our. World!” Maria shouted. A great burst of energy plunged into Malakai’s chest, hitting him where he was already wounded, where the dead heart no longer beat inside of his chest. The hole grew larger. The brightness and malice blazing in his eyes dimmed.

Yes, the real end was near, but victory was closer.

Then, as fast as it had come, the magic left Maria. She fell to her knees drained. Malakai also collapsed, this battle of good versus evil momentarily on pause.

You got him, Maria! Sherlock said. You kicked his ass. He’s as dead as that squashed squirrel! You—

But he stopped.

Maria—her vision almost gone, her body exhausted, her muscles and tendons like jelly, floating around, detached from the spots where they should’ve been—saw that Malakai was slowly standing up. He hadn’t been beaten. Not yet.

No. Impossible, Maria whimpered. How do you kill something that’s already dead?

Tires screeched. Headlights bathed the giant spider. A revving engine screamed. Maria, dimly aware of her own demise if she didn’t haul ass, looked in the direction of the car.

It was a Kia.

A horn honked.

The cabin light flipped on. Claire sat behind the wheel, her hands gripped on the wheel, teeth bared. Next to her was Tabby, and she held her arms out in front of her as if she were on a train that had jumped the rails.

Maria, move! Sherlock barked.

And she did.

Just in time. The wind the Kia made as it flew by blew her hair out in every direction. Exhaust and tire smoke filled her nostrils. She hit the ground again, her eyes closing, but not before she saw the Kia plow into Malakai at upwards of fifty miles per hour.

The Arachnid was launched into the air; a black creature in the blacker night sky. He seemed to fly, to float.

Until he didn’t.

Until he fell down, his body clattering and shattering on the road.

Maria

Mariaaaa

“Maria!”

It was Gramps’s voice. But that was impossible. He’d been speared by her very own sword.

Her eyes flicked open. She saw faces hovering above her. It was Tabby, Claire, and Sherlock.

“Maria, finish him,” Ignatius said.

Her friends helped her up. Her legs were wobbly and numb. She turned and saw Gramps on the curb. He held his wounded shoulder with his good hand.

“How…?” she managed to say. It was a question that encompassed the entire battle. How could he have survived? How could she finish Malakai? How could she kill what was already dead?

“The hilt,” he said. “The hilt hit me.” He motioned to the sword. There was a small puddle of blood near it. Gramps managed a smile to reassure Maria he would be okay…if she could end this.

She picked up the sword. Holding it made her feel a little better—which was not saying much, since she’d felt close to death.

Do it, Maria, Sherlock said. Do it for Dominion and Duke. Do it for both worlds.

She nodded at the Bloodhound.

She walked over to the mangled hump of blackness that was Malakai. He was not dead. His limbs twitched and his eyes blinked open, but the fire that had been in them was gone.

“For Dominion village,” Maria whispered. “For Duke, and my mother and father, and all those you have hurt.”

She raised the blade above her head. Somehow, her muscles allowed her to do it. Her muscles and her magic.

Malakai laughed and wheezed. Black blood flew from his mouth and dripped from his limbs. “Go ahead…go ahead and kill me. It won’t matter. It won’t…matter at all.”

Maria said nothing.

“The Widow’s reach s-s-stretches across worlds. She…she won’t stop until the music b-b-box is hers.”

Then Maria spoke. “Last words,” she said. “Should’ve made ‘em count.”

She brought the sword down point-first.

Before the blade sank into Malakai’s wounded sternum, something like disappointment passed over his many eyes.

Then he died for a second and final time.

The blade struck the pavement beneath him; a clean impalement. Maria didn’t smile or cry or scream. She was too tired and beaten for any of that.

As she fell backward, passing out, Malakai’s body began to catch fire. By the time her friends and family had woken her up, the body was nothing but a pile of ashes, scattered in the night wind.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Holy shit! Did you see me cream that son of a bitch!?” Claire yelled. It was the first thing Maria heard once she regained consciousness.

Maria opened her eyes. She stared at a tiled ceiling.

“I don’t think I can, like, go to jail for that…can I?” Claire said. “It’s kinda like hitting a deer or something.”

Laughter came from behind her. Among it sounded like Salem and Agnes, even the Muffler twins.

“That was pretty awesome,” Tabby said. “I was sure we were going to die. I thought that…that thing was going to unhinge his jaw and just swallow the Kia whole.”

“Now that would be ridiculous,” a tired old man’s voice said.

It was Gramps. Ignatius Apple, formerly known on Oriceran in the village of Dominion as Ignatius Mangood.

“Ohh,” Maria moaned. She brought a hand up to her head and touched what felt like a wad of napkins. One pulled free, and she squinted her eyes, reading Salem’s on the paper. World class medical care, she thought. Ice cream shop napkins instead of gauze and Band-Aids. I wonder what they used to sterilize the wound—whipped cream?

“She’s up!” Claire shouted. “Maria!”

Maria tried to sit up.

“Easy, easy,” Tabby said.

“Yes, young lady, you took quite a beating,” Agnes said. She entered Maria’s field of vision, her wild gray hair swallowing up her view of the tiled ceiling.

“Yeah, I feel like I died,” Maria rasped. It hurt to talk.

“You should’ve,” Salem said. He hobbled over next to Agnes and put an arm around her waist. “How I could be so stupid as to miss a plain old cloaking charm, I don’t know. I am sorry, though, Maria. I know that doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of what occurred, but know that I’m eternally grateful to you. You saved my life.”

“Our lives, too!” the Muffler twins said from somewhere behind Maria.

“And mine,” Gramps said.

Maria managed to turn her head, but not before her neck cracked about twenty times. Yeah, she would definitely be sore in the morning.

Maria found Gramps with her eyes. Sherlock sat next to him. They both seemed to be smiling.

Seeing them gave her strength, just like the sword had done earlier. She sat up, barely registering the pain that wracked through her body.

“Gramps!” she said.

“Maria. Maria, Maria, Maria!” he laughed. “You are such a reckless fool. But what would I have done without you?”

“Died, probably,” Salem said. He laughed as well.

“I didn’t want you to risk your life for me,” Gramps continued. “I’ve lived long enough, but you, you have so much life left ahead of you. You are going to do so many great things.”

Eh, don’t push it, Ig, Sherlock said.

Maria rolled her eyes at him.

Suddenly, something popped into her mind. “The music box!” she shouted. “Where is the—”

Gramps seemed to produce it out of nowhere. “If I’d known how much trouble this little thing would’ve caused us, I think I would’ve gotten you a candy bar.”

“You did know,” Salem told him. “You knew it would cause trouble, but you also knew Maria could handle it.”

Gramps swallowed, the knob in his neck bobbing. He nodded. “I did. I guess you’re right, Salem.”

“Almost always am,” Salem said, grinning. His face was bandaged with napkins, too. He looked ridiculous. Maria knew she probably didn’t look much better.

“I knew she could handle it because she is my granddaughter. We Apples can handle almost anything,” Gramps said.

“Yeah,” Claire said. She and Tabby stood by Maria’s side. They always would, from then on. “Now that I’ve seen a giant spider-man…thing, I really do think you guys can handle anything.”

“And that you’re weird as hell,” Tabby added.

Everyone laughed. Even Sherlock, who made that odd chortling sound inside of Maria’s head.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Maria said. She looked at her best friends. “I’m sorry for the way I acted back at your place, Claire. I was just—”

Claire raised a hand. “Don’t sweat it. If you hadn’t acted like it, I wouldn’t have gotten to turn that asshole into roadkill. Remind me to thank Andy Franz for posting that blurry pic on Instagram.” Maria cocked her head and arched an eyebrow (even that slight movement caused her pain).

“Long story,” Claire went on. “Anyway, my car’s a little messed up, but hey, that’s what insurance is for, right?” She shrugged. “Better than a dead friend.”

“You think insurance covers giant spider accidents?” Tabby asked.

“I’ll just say it was a deer,” Claire said.

“Good idea.”

Gramps walked closer to the table Maria was on. He stared at his granddaughter for a moment, taking in how much she looked like her mother, the Queen Witch, and smiled. Then the two hugged for a long moment.

“It’s over for now,” Gramps whispered into Maria’s ear.

When they parted, Maria said, “Not yet. We still have a village to save.”

Gramps nodded. “That we do. But we can’t do it on an empty stomach now, can we?”

Sherlock barked. Inside of Maria’s head, he said, Hell no!

They all laughed.

“I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for ice cream,” Maria said. She rubbed at her temple. Honestly, she was really in the mood for sleep.

“What?” Claire said, her mouth in a perfect O-shape. “Maria Apple isn’t in the mood for buckeye ice cream? That’s blasphemous!”

“You don’t even know what blasphemy is,” Tabby said and nudged Claire with her elbow.

“What about pancakes?” Salem asked.

“Yes!” the Muffler twins said simultaneously as always.

“Pancakes don’t sound bad,” Maria said. “But where the hell are we gonna get pancakes at this ungodly hour?” It was well past midnight. The town was asleep.

“A new Denny’s just opened up not too far from the mall,” Agnes said. “Haven’t tried it yet, but I’ve heard good things. Open 24/7, too.”

Gramps smiled. “There you have it, Maria.”

They helped her off the table.

“We can take my car,” Claire said, pulling her keys out of her pocket and disarming the alarm with a beep.

They went outside. Claire’s car looked like it had been cleaved down the middle of the hood. There was a string of black goop and web-like hair caught in the grille. Maria, limping, wiped it away, hoping no one noticed. She didn’t want their festive mood dampened.

They all piled into Claire’s car, nine bodies in a five seater. Maria and Tabby in the front, the rest in the back except for Sherlock, who sat on the floor of the front seat, tangled up between the girls’ legs.

It was uncomfortable, and a bit smelly, but in a weird way, it was home. Because the people in this car—the witches and wizards and humans and dog—were all part of Maria’s family, her tribe.

***

The waitress pushed together two tables in the middle of the dining room. There was no one inside the Denny’s this late, and the waitress, an older woman with bleached-blonde hair, just seemed happy to have some business. Bigger parties meant bigger tips, so she didn’t protest when Sherlock sauntered into the room, wagging his tail, with strings of drool dripping from his drooping cheeks.

These people look like they’ve been through World War III. Oh my, the girl is wearing a sword on her hip, the waitress thought with an odd smile on her face. Even the dog looks frazzled. What I would give to find out what the heck these people have been up to tonight. She read them the special and took their drink orders.

“I’ll be back in a moment to take your food orders,” she said, still smiling—gotta work for those tips. Though this group, as haggard and beaten as they seemed, was happy. Really happy.

The waitress, whose name was Ilene, thought back to her own youthful days, and of her family that was mostly gone or scattered across the United States, and, in Frank’s case, Canada. She missed them. She promised to herself that after her shift was over, she was going to give her eldest daughter, Savanna, a call. She lived in California, three hours behind. It would only be midnight when Ilene got off; Savanna would be up. Maybe she’d even fly out to visit her. God, how long has it been? Three years? Five?

She came back with the drinks: Coca-Colas, lemonades, hot teas with lemon, and a milkshake for the dog. “Now, what can I get you nice folks to eat?”

Maria spoke up.

She didn’t realize it, but she had become the leader of the group. Had she realized it, she might’ve refused the job—but it had come as naturally as a summer thunderstorm in the dead of night. There was no denying destiny.

“Well, Ilene, I think we are going to order a bunch of pancakes,” Maria said. She had discovered a hunger in her she did not know was possible. Such was common after the heat of a battle. Ignatius Apple could attest to that.

She looked down the length of the table both ways. She sat in the middle, Tabby and Claire on each side of her, Ignatius and Sherlock across.

The rest of the group nodded.

“I definitely want a stack of blueberry,” Maria said.

“Yeah, blueberry,” Claire said.

“I’ll do chocolate chip,” Tabby said.

“Same,” the Muffler twins answered.

“Do you have banana?” Ignatius asked.

“Yes, we do. We have banana nut, banana, and chocolate banana,” Ilene answered. She didn’t have her pad out to take the order. Never needed it.

“Ooh, chocolate banana,” Salem said. “Sign me up!”

“We’ll share,” Agnes said, motioning to her and Salem.

“I’ll do banana nut,” Ignatius said. “Thank you very much.”

Maria leaned forward. “Oh, and we’ll probably want seconds. Tell your cook to keep the griddle warm.”

Ilene grinned. “Oh, it always is, young lady. I’ll have those right out to you.”

“What a good idea,” Maria said. “Pancakes. Nothing is better when you’re starving. You know, I could probably even go for some ice cream when we’re done, after all.”

Salem nodded.

“Not with your cholesterol,” Agnes said, hitting him in the chest. Salem rolled his eyes.

“No fun,” he said.

The pancakes came not too long after they ordered them. Buckets of syrup and trays of butter were passed around the table. Another waitress had to come assist Ilene in serving the food, there was that much. They ate and they ate. Belts were loosened, buttons undone, but the hunger was hardly satisfied.

As they waited for their second helping of pancakes, Maria excused herself to go to the restroom. She’d had to piss like a racehorse ever since she’d speared Malakai with her grandfather’s sword. She still had a hard time believing that had happened. It was all a blur, a nightmarish blur, and as the clock ticked, it got further and further away, dissolving like nightmares often tend to upon awakening.

“Want us to come?” Tabby asked.

Oh, right, Maria remembered. Girls and their pack mentality when going to the bathroom. It was an aspect of womanhood she never fully understood, nor did she think she ever would.

“No, thanks. I can handle this one myself,” Maria said, smiling.

***

The bathroom was empty. It smelled fresh, as if it had recently been cleaned…thank God. Maria did her business and began to wash her hands.

She noted the black blood underneath her fingernails, and tried to scrub it clean. It would take a few manicures to clean them, she supposed. That or just ripping the whole fingernail off and letting it grow back in fresh. Yeah, that would probably be what she had to do, as gruesome as it sounded. No amount of Purell or hand soap could disinfect—

Something moved in the mirror. Instantly, as seamless as breathing, Maria went for the sword on her belt. An odd thought crossed her mind: What if someone walked in the restroom right now and saw you? How crazy you would look, Maria?

But she was past the point of crazy and way past the point of truly caring. Getting attacked by a giant spider tends to do that to you.

Maria spun around, the sword in hand.

Nothing.

“I need to sleep,” she said to herself. She sheathed the sword. “Seeing things and stuff. Not good.” Then she went back to washing her hands. She finished and turned to pump the paper towels free from the dispenser when she saw it again.

“Shit on a stick!” she cursed. “You’re going to give me a fucking heart attack.”

“I’m sorry,” the dead boy Duke said.

Maria noticed two things about him almost instantly: he was smiling, and the blood, the gashes, and the anguish on his face had begun to clear up. He no longer looked like a boy in soldier’s clothes. Now, he just looked like a regular kid.

“Can’t you give me a heads up or something? Don’t ghosts do that? You know, like, rattle chains or start whispering really creepy stuff. That way I’ll at least know it’s you.”

“No chains in the world in between,” Duke said. “Sorry.”

Maria shrugged. “Well, we need something.”

Duke shook his head. “No, not any longer.”

“What do you mean?” She tossed the wet paper towel into the trashcan and said, “Three points!” under her breath.

“Nice shot. I mean I will no longer have to contact you from this dreadful place. My time has come.”

Maria hadn’t thought her life could get any weirder than it had in the past couple days, but she was continuously being proven wrong. Pretty soon, she was just going to accept everything, no matter what. Couldn’t go wrong there.

“I mean, I’m moving on.”

“Like, from the Denny’s bathroom? I don’t blame you. It smells clean and it looks clean, but I’d bet you a million bucks, if we ran a black light over everything, we’d both vomit up our pancakes.”

“Pancakes?” Duke asked, cocking his head.

“Never mind. So you obviously didn’t mean you’re moving on from the Denny’s bathroom. This is the ladies’, by the way. I think it could be a crime for a boy to enter it. But hey, I just stabbed a giant spider to death, what the fuck do I know?”

Duke laughed. “Yes, that you did. And thank you so much, Maria.”

“Thank me? No, thank you. Wow, I never thought I’d be thanking a ghost kid. My life is seriously messed up.”

“No, your life is just beginning.”

“Eh, I’ve been here for nineteen years. These past couple days definitely take the cake, but I’m pretty sure I’ve peaked in the weirdness/excitement/fun department.”

“You’re on to Oriceran, Maria. The weirdness, excitement, and fun are all just starting.”

“I don’t know if I should be happy about that, or… You know what? Never mind. Gotta embrace the weird. I got a friend in Austin, Texas who always says that. Maybe it’s time I make it my own catchphrase. Although ‘Oh, what the fuck is that?’ is a very close second.”

Duke laughed again. It was a nice laugh, one without pain and fear. Maria was glad she was able to hear it, despite him being dead and all. “Yes, weird is not entirely a bad thing. You’ve grown up with Ignatius Mangood, so I’m assuming English is your second language.”

“What would be the first?” Maria asked.

“Weird,” Duke answered matter-of-factly.

“You got that right.” She smiled. She wished Duke was here, and not just a ghost between worlds. If he were, she would’ve hugged him. He was part of her tribe, too. “Now, where are you going?”

“I’m moving on.” Duke continued smiling. He seemed to glow now with a great light, almost angelic.

“Moving on, yeah, you said that. What the heck does it mean?”

“I’m free of the chains that bind me to the world in between because of you, Maria.”

“Me? How?”

“Because you were in need of guidance and I guided you. Not only did you exceed expectations, you blew them to smithereens.”

“So you get to go where?”

“A place called Heaven. Do you know of it on Earth?”

Maria nodded. Tears had begun to well up in the corners of her eyes. Were they tears of happiness? Sadness? Fear?

A combination of all those emotions.

“We do know of Heaven. It’s nice to know it exists. So what would have happened if I failed? Would you have never gotten out of the world in between?”

Duke shrugged. “You didn’t fail, so we will never know. I’m content with that answer. I hope you are, too. I just wanted to come and say goodbye. You are a special girl, Maria. It is too bad our paths did not cross in the mortal realm.”

Now the tears left her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She was crying and not ashamed of it.

“I wish you luck on the rest of your journey. The village of Dominion awaits you, Maria.”

Fear struck her heart. She stepped forward on wobbly, muscle-tight legs. “I can’t do it without you, Duke. I need your guidance.”

Duke pointed to the wall, where beyond the burnt-orange paint and plaster was a table full of people Maria cared about and who cared about her.

“You have them, Maria. Your tribe. They will follow you anywhere, to the Gates of Hell, the Laughing Trees of the Dark Forest, anywhere. And you will lead them. But you cannot do it without them and they cannot do it without you.”

Maria reached out. Her hand passed through Duke. He looked down and smiled. Then he reached his own hand toward Maria and their fingers lay atop of one another. Maria felt nothing besides a slight tingling in her palm, as if her hand had fallen asleep.

“I must go now, Maria. Eternity awaits.” The light surrounding Duke glowed brighter than the sun. Maria didn’t shield or close her eyes. She watched it all in sheer fascination and disbelief.

“Thank you,” Duke said.

Then he was gone, the light washing out the Denny’s bathroom with him. Maria was alone. She sat on the trashcan after a moment, worried her legs were going to give out on her.

Not long after, Claire and Tabby opened the door.

“Maria?” Claire said. They turned and saw her slumped over on the trashcan.

“Maria!” Tabby said. “Jesus!”

The two girls helped her up.

“I know the pancakes weren’t great, but they weren’t that bad,” Claire said.

Tabby glared at her, a look that said now was not the time for silly jokes.

“I’m all right,” Maria said. “I’m okay. Just a little lightheaded.” She was able to stand on her own now. And, if she was being totally honest, she felt better. Much better.

“Come on,” Tabby said. “There’s more steaming blueberry pancakes on the table with your name on it.”

“Unless the Muffler twins ate them all,” Claire said. She held the door open, and they helped Maria back to the table. All eyes were on her, even the waitress’s and the cook’s.

Too young to be drinking, the cook, Reggie, thought. Oh, what do I care? I hardly remember my early twenties. He grinned and went back to flipping pancakes.

“Are you all right, Maria?” Ignatius asked. He leaned forward and placed a cool hand on her forehead.

“It was Duke,” she said.

The witches and wizards at the table nodded in mutual understanding.

“Good for him,” Agnes said.

“He passed on,” Maria continued.

“Because of you. You have given him an eternal life, Maria. There’s almost nothing more valiant that that,” Ignatius said.

“This is just too weird,” Tabby said, shaking her head. Claire elbowed her.

“Embrace the weirdness,” she mumbled, unaware this was decided as Maria’s new catchphrase just minutes before.

“I’m going to miss him,” Maria said. She started cutting up her pancakes.

Are you gonna eat those? Sherlock asked.

Maria grinned at the Bloodhound and threw him a piece. He caught it with an odd sort of finesse.

“You may see him again,” Ignatius said. “After all, our journey is only beginning.”

Surprisingly, the group finished the pancakes, drained the buckets of syrup, and still had room for desert. But they did not order desert. They sat in Denny’s until the sun was close to coming up, talking, laughing, and just being happy.

Though Ignatius and Maria were the only ones bound by blood, they and the rest of the group had formed a bond that night; one exclusive to the closest of families.

Because this group of weirdos was, after all, a family.

***

“You’re sure you have to do this?” Claire asked Maria as they got out of the Kia. The damage to her car looked much worse in the rising sun. The sky was a purple-orange. Beautiful.

“Yeah, Maria, don’t go, please,” Tabby said. There were tears in her eyes. Something Maria had never seen before.

Maria took both of them by the hand and looked them in the eyes. “I have to go.”

Close by, Ignatius heard this exchange. “We won’t be long,” he said.

“It’s dangerous,” Claire said, lowering her voice.

Maria tapped the hilt of her sword. “I can handle it. After tonight, I think I can handle any and everything. Gotta burn off of those pancakes and all, you know?”

Neither of them smiled.

“Nothing. Okay, jokes are not my strong suit, I’ll admit that, but that…that was comedic gold.”

Still, neither smiled.

“Listen, I have to do this—”

“Let us come with you,” Claire interrupted.

“What?” Maria said. She was taken aback. “Claire, are you serious?”

“Classes are starting soon,” Tabby said. “I can’t—”

“This is bigger than that,” Claire said. “C’mon, Tab. Road trip! We’ve always talked about going on a road trip, right?”

Tabby shifted from foot to foot. “Yeah, I guess…but—”

“But nothing,” Maria said. “This blows a road trip away.” The idea of bringing her friends didn’t strike her as odd as she thought it would. In a weird way, like most of what had been happening to her over the last forty-eight hours, it felt right.

Tabby smiled. It was an uneasy smile, but there was honesty in it. “I-I—”

“Tab!” Claire urged.

Tabby sighed. “Fine. I’ll go, but if my mom finds out, she’ll kill me.”

“Oh, crap! What am I gonna tell my parents?”

“The truth,” Gramps said. He walked up to them, Sherlock at his heels. “Tell them the truth. Tell them you are going to save a village in a far away land.”

“They’ll think I’m talking about Africa or something. That won’t fly.”

“So you don’t mind?” Maria asked Gramps.

He grinned. “No, no, the more the merrier. Oriceran is a magical place. I look forward to seeing it again and sharing it with you all. Just promise me one thing, all of you, okay?”

They nodded.

“Don’t anger any Gnomes.”

Maria looked at Sherlock, whose floppy ears raised at the mention of gnomes. He was probably already having visions of using them as chew toys.

“Besides, we shall not be gone long. You needn’t worry. Oriceran is a safe place…mostly.”

“Gulp,” Tabby said. She looked pale and a bit nervous.

Gramps threw his head back with laughter and put his arm around Tabby and Claire. “Joking!”

But Maria knew a place that was home to large arachnid creatures was far from safe. She kept her mouth shut.

Agnes and Salem stepped forward. “I wish we could go,” Salem said.

“Why can’t you?” Maria asked, disappointment wrenching her features. “Who’ll stay around and keep this place safe? The Silver Griffins?” He laughed. “The Muffler twins?” He laughed again, this time Agnes joining in with him.

“Hey! Not nice!” the Muffler twins said.

“Kidding!” Salem said, then leaned forward and whispered, “Seriously, can’t do that. The whole town would probably burn down.”

Agnes elbowed him, smiling. “You have a great guide in Ignatius. No need to worry,” Agnes said.

Ignatius stepped forward. “Are you ready?”

Maria nodded. Sherlock bounded up to her and said, God, I hope I don’t get portal sick.

“Is that a thing?”

Eh, with me, you never know.

“Just throw up in the opposite direction of me,” Maria said, patting him on the head. “And maybe I’ll let you pee on a Gnome.”

Tabby shook her head. “Still can’t believe this.”

“Oh, you will,” Ignatius said.

They went into the ice cream shop, glass crunching beneath their feet. The sun had almost risen in its entirety. A new day was on the horizon.

Once inside, they gathered in a circle.

“Now, when the portal opens,” Ignatius directed, “Step through. Don’t think too hard about it. Imagine it’s as normal as the door we’ve just used to enter the shop.”

“Why?” Tabby prodded.

“It’s better if I don’t answer that question. Have no fear. Malfunctions are very slim. You have a better chance of winning the lottery,” Ignatius went on.

“Or plowing a giant spider with your car,” Tabby whispered out of the side of her mouth.

Maria laughed.

“Now, Agnes, Salem, and the twins, will you help sing us through?” Ignatius asked.

The witches and wizards stepped forward, tightening the circle.

“Sing?” Maria asked.

“Yes, it’s a trick we’ve learned from the Light Elves,” Ignatius said nonchalantly.

“Elves?” Tabby said, breathless.

“Zip it,” Claire said.

“Everyone hold hands,” Ignatius said. They did. Maria took her grandfather’s in her right and Sherlock’s paw in her left. Claire took Sherlock’s other paw in her right and Tabby’s in her left. The Muffler twins, Agnes, and Salem closed the circle.

Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment until it was broken by the high, sweet melodic tones of the elders’ voices.

It was a song Maria had heard, first as child many years ago, and then later, on her nineteenth birthday, when she opened her mother’s music box. It was a song that reminded her of home, and this time, she found herself singing along.

A burst of light came in the middle of the circle. It was the portal. On the other side was Oriceran.

Ignatius led the way, stepping through and disappearing out of thin air. Next went Sherlock with a joyous bark, then Claire and Tabby together. Last was Maria, and as she stepped through the portal, she knew a chapter of her life was closing, and an array of endless possibilities was only just beginning. Duke had been right.

Then, Maria left Earth with her family, ready for anything that came her way.

FINIS

Author Notes - Flint Maxwell

Written September 15, 2017

Most importantly, I want to thank you for reading this book. If this was your first time reading something by me, I’m so happy to have you along for the ride, and I hope I didn’t disappoint. If you’ve read my other work and you’re a rabid Flint-Stone (lame name, I know), then welcome back!

Words really can’t describe how grateful I am to you amazing people who read not only my stuff but who read in general. It seems that not many people do these days. Often times, people I know will ask me what I’m doing with my life (always an awkward question) and I’ll say, “Oh, I’m an author,” and most of these individuals will invariably reply with: “What’s an author?”

No, no, I’m kidding.

But seriously, bookstores are dying, libraries are losing their funding, and English Literature majors are still laughed at…usually by the ones who lack imagination and the courage to follow their dreams. So, you, my friends and fellow lovers of stories, are simply amazing, and without you, I’d be just another guy talking to himself. You make the real and countless fictional worlds go round. Also, it is really, really nice to have someone who’ll listen to my crazy ramblings.

Anyway, I told myself I’d try to keep these notes short, but I also told myself I was going to quit drinking pop, and so far I’m 0-2.

When Martha Carr messaged me about joining her in helping create a new universe, I about shit my pants. Martha and I have known each other for about a year. I had read her thriller books (which were great, and you should totally check out The Wallis Jones Series, if you haven’t already), and told her how much I liked them. I never expected anything in return. I was just being honest. Then the next thing I know, I’m writing about a crazy world called Oriceran and a talking Bloodhound named Sherlock.

I guess life just happens like that sometimes. So a very big thank you to Martha Carr and Michael Anderle for inviting me along on this wild ride. They both have given me the greatest gift an author can ever receive, and that is another sandbox to play in—one where the foundation is sturdy and the sand is clean, deep, and ripe for building.

So round of applause for Martha, who is one of the most amazing people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. I mean, look at all she’s accomplished. She’s written for major news outlets, she’s been publishing for thirty years, she has a kick-ass dog named Lois, she created a talking troll named Yumfuck (quite possibly the greatest fictional name ever), and she’s beaten cancer multiple times. Like, holy shit! Martha Carr for President. Really, she’s been so helpful to me. I’m not one of those authors who typically outlines; I usually just get an idea and go with it. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But Martha made me outline (yes, that’s right, made me), and I couldn’t be happier that she did. She opened up a new world for me, once she and I ironed out the details of this first book in the Midwest Magic Chronicles. I never got stuck or had to backtrack. The story flowed out of me like…well, like magic, and there was still wiggle room for me to do my own thing. Martha calls herself the Den Mother of Oriceran, but as you can see, she’s so much more than that. She even helped me understand the business side of publishing a bit more, with boring things such as taxes and IRAs. Talk about a Swiss Army Knife—she does it all. So thank you, Martha.

And a round of applause for Michael, who was sort of a legend to me. I follow the indie author community very closely, always looking for advice and paths to authoring success. One day, over a year ago (maybe close to two), I watched a video of Michael on Stephen Campbell’s Author Biz podcast (also a really cool guy) and was floored when I learned what Michael was doing and how much success he was achieving. He was another of the many people in the indie community that I model myself after and have learned so much from. His way of creating and publishing largely reminded me of a gunslinger in the Old West — a badass who does things their own way, and who stops at nothing to get what they want. His way about publishing has obviously proven to be successful, but I think his outlook and general badassery transcends the business and writing world; I think it’s a great way to live your life. So Michael, I thank you for being fearless and for helping so many, including myself, through your generosity.

Okay, okay, they’re telling me I have to get off of the stage now; I’ve gone on for too long.

Maria’s journey is just starting. I hope to have the next books out soon. Recently, I’ve partially torn my Achilles tendon playing basketball, and will probably be laid up for awhile. So bad news for me, but good news for you. I’ll have nothing to do besides go hang out in Oriceran with Maria, Ignatius, Sherlock, Claire, Tabby…and possibly some angry Gnomes. And between you and me, I would do that anyway. It’s fun as hell.

I shall leave you. My time is up. I will leave the stage as I shout out the Oriceran battlecry: WUEEEEEEEE!

Author Notes - Martha Carr

Written 09/28/17

I first got to know Flint Maxwell as a fan of my previous works – one of the few… He let me know how much he was enjoying my books and he thought his mother would really like them. It made me laugh and I kept noticing on every book this young guy was leaving a nice review. Again, one of the few…

Then, Michael Anderle and I started the Oriceran Universe and I’d been noticing that this guy, Flint Maxwell was gaining ground as an author in the zombie genre. So, when it came time to pitch some new authors for the universe, I threw in Flint’s name and boy, am I glad I did.

He’s the comic relief for the rest of the Universe. When Michael once misspelled, Wheeeee and put Wueeeee… Flint picked up on it and ran with it. Every comment back and forth had a nice Wueeee… till it became the Oriceran battle cry and now everyone is doing it! (Feel free to do it too… especially when chatting with Magic Mike…)

Flint is the author most likely to notice when someone else’s book has gotten that little orange flag, or to read everyone else’s work and tell them what he liked about their book. And in long meetings when Michael and I go on and on, Flint is the patient one who waits us out till we get back on track and quit the kidding around.

He also writes a really good book with that same sense of humor and quiet patience, easy to get along with and a love of something just a little edgy. Flint’s work helps us even bring a more male voice to the group of women he jokes with on a daily basis and really launches Oriceran as an amazing Universe full of diverse writers all bringing their own unique take to the same urban fantasy story.

I know that as you become a fan of his work – and you will… and you reach out to chat with Flint, you’ll get that same friendly guy who can make a fun joke and has the most amazing facts on weird stuff he’d like to tell you about. Doesn’t hurt that I’m from the Midwest and so is he… that Midwestern practical nature wrapped up in magic. That’s a winner right there!

So, let me introduce you to my friend and fellow author, Flint Maxwell and enjoy The Midwest Magic Chronicles in the Revelations of Oriceran Universe and Book One: The Midwest Witch. This is going to be like a great friendship with a few laughs, some great tales and a few scary moments that don’t last long where you get to cheer on the good guys. Wueeeeeeee!

Publisher Notes - Michael Anderle

Written 09/28/17

<No, I’m not going to comment on the ###Damn ‘Wueeee’> LOL.

I remember Martha saying “I want to ask this author, Flint Maxwell, to join us…”

And that, was that. We had ONE other male in the Oriceran Universe (what is it with all the females, Martha? Poor Flint was THE only male for a long time. Now, we have another couple on the hook, so he’s not always fighting the good fight.

Whatever that is.

As the original conception for Oriceran was built in my mind, I had that our world’s true past was hidden. That the truth was out there somewhere, but either the powers that be just couldn’t believe their original truth was wrong - or more insidiously, the truth was being hidden because we couldn’t be trusted with the truth.

That annoys the ever-loving hell out of me.

Personally, I AM cynical enough to believe the government is hiding stuff. Occasionally, I’d probably think it was for good reasons. However, I’m of the opinion that we (the people) are a lot more resilient than most believe. However, I never expect to truly know unless this writing and publishing business does so well, I earn enough crazy money to start funding research to find out.

Hey, it could happen! (Yeah, probably not, but maybe.)

Until then, we are building our own reality of what our past might have been like, and our future. For those who know me from The Kurtherian Gambit Universe, you know I like past, present and FUTURE.

Oh yes, I won’t hesitate to have series based another twenty years, forty years…HUNDRED years in the future in Oriceran.

What might we do, if we have technology and magic and a desire to see the stars? What kind of capabilities could we create?

Transporter Beam ala Star Trek? Done.

Faster than Light travel?  Ok, done. But, we have to work with the speed of light (and the fact that we have cosmologists working on the fact that - despite our belief in Einsteins Theory of Relativity - Light Speed is not constant!)

LINK: https://www.theguardian.com/science/2016/nov/28/theory-challenging-einsteins-view-on-speed-of-light-could-soon-be-tested

Really bad things happen because mankind doesn’t know when to leave the fu#k alone?  Oh yeah, that in spades.

Just the kind of Universe where people with attitude and a certain type of belief system I care about will kick ass, take names and provide us with the kind of entertainment and camaraderie I want to read more about.

But, first things first (as The Author starts looking around)…

HAS ANYONE FED THE FUCKING TROLL?

Ad Aeternitatem,

Michael Anderle

Want more?

Join the email list here:

http://oriceran.com/email/

Find the Oriceran Universe on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/OriceranUniverse/

Find the Oriceran Universe on Pinterest:

https://www.pinterest.com/lmbpn/pins/

The email list will be a way to share upcoming news and let you know about giveaways and other fun stuff. The Facebook group is a way for us to connect faster – in other words, a chat, plus a way to share new spy tools, ways to keep your information safe, and other cool information and stories. Plus, from time to time I’ll share other great indie authors’ upcoming worlds of magic and adventure. Signing up for the email list is an easy way to ensure you receive all of the big news and make sure you don’t miss any major releases or updates.

Enjoy the new adventure!

Flint Maxwell and Martha Carr  2017

Flint Maxwell Social

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/flintmaxwellbooks/

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Martha Carr Social

Website:  http://oriceran.com/

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/ChroniclesofLeira/

Books by Martha Carr

The Revelations of Oriceran

The Leira Chronicles

* with Michael Anderle *

Quest for Magic (0)

Waking Magic (1)

Release of Magic (2)

Protection of Magic (3)

Rule of Magic (4)

The Kacy Chronicles

* with A.L. Knorr *

Descendant (1)

Ascendant (2)

The Soul Stone Mage Series

* with Sarah Noffke *

House of Enchanted (1)

The Dark Forest (2)

Mountain of Truth (3)

The Midwest Magic Chronicles

* with Flint Maxwell *

The Midwest Witch (1)

Michael Anderle

Kurtherian Gambit Series Titles Include:

First Arc

Death Becomes Her (01) - Queen Bitch (02) - Love Lost (03) - Bite This (04)

Never Forsaken (05) - Under My Heel (06) - Kneel Or Die (07)

Second Arc

We Will Build (08) - It’s Hell To Choose (09) - Release The Dogs of War (10)

Sued For Peace (11) - We Have Contact (12) - My Ride is a Bitch (13)

Don’t Cross This Line (14)

Third Arc (2017)

Never Submit (15) - Never Surrender (16) - Forever Defend (17)

Might Makes Right (18) - Ahead Full (19) - Capture Death (20)

Life Goes On (21)

**New Series**

The Second Dark Ages

The Dark Messiah (01)

The Darkest Night (02)

The Boris Chronicles

* With Paul C. Middleton *

Evacuation

Retaliation

Revelation

Restitution 2017

Reclaiming Honor

* With JUSTIN SLOAN *

Justice Is Calling (01)

Claimed By Honor (02)

Judgement Has Fallen (03)

Angel of Reckoning (04)

Born Into Flames (05)

Defending The Lost (06)

Saved By Valor (07)

The Etheric Academy

* With TS PAUL *

ALPHA CLASS (01)

ALPHA CLASS - Engineering (02)

ALPHA CLASS (03) Coming soon

Terry Henry “TH” Walton Chronicles

* With CRAIG MARTELLE *

Nomad Found (01)

Nomad Redeemed (02)

Nomad Unleashed (03)

Nomad Supreme (04)

Nomad’s Fury (05)

Nomad’s Justice (06)

Nomad Avenged (07)

Nomad Mortis (08)

Nomad’s Force (09)

Nomad’s Galaxy (10)

Trials and Tribulations

* With Natalie Grey *

Risk Be Damned (01)

Damned to Hell (02)

Hell’s Worst Nightmare (03) coming soon

The Ascension Myth

* With Ell Leigh Clarke *

Awakened (01)

Activated (02)

Called (03)

Sanctioned (04)

Rebirth (05)

Retribution (06)

Cloaked (07)

The Age of Magic

The Rise of Magic

* With CM Raymond / LE Barbant *

Restriction (01)

Reawakening (02)

Rebellion (03)

Revolution (04)

Unlawful Passage (05)

Darkness Rises (06)

The Hidden Magic Chronicles

* With Justin Sloan *

Shades of Light (01)

Shades of Dark (02)

Shades of Glory (03)

Storms of Magic

*With PT Hylton*

Storm Raiders (01)

Storm Callers (02)

Storm Breakers (03)

Tales of the Feisty Druid

*With Candy Crum*

The Arcadian Druid (01)

The Undying Illusionist (02)

The Frozen Wasteland (03)

Path of Heroes

*With Brandon Barr*

Rogue Mage (01)

A New Dawn

*With Amy Hopkins*

Dawn of Destiny (01)

Etheric Recruit

*With S.R. Russell*

SHORT STORIES

Frank Kurns Stories of the Unknownworld 01 (7.5)

You Don’t Touch John’s Cousin

Frank Kurns Stories of the Unknownworld 02 (9.5)

Bitch’s Night Out

Bellatrix: Frank Kurns Stories of the Unknownworld 03 (13.25)

With Natalie Grey

AudioBooks

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Table of Contents

Contents

Oriceran

Dedication

Legal

Oriceran US Map

Oriceran Map

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Author Notes - Flint

Author Notes - Martha

Publisher Notes - Michael

Social Links

Martha Carr Series List

Other LMBPN Books