First Destroy All Giant Monsters (The World Wide Witches Research Association) (14 page)

“I have an odd feeling she’s not as gone as I’d have liked,” muttered Karl.

Closing his hand over the silver wolf in his pocket he turned to help his mother into the car. He could not put a name to the chill that caught at his throat. Something about Gloria. Something about the wolves. His heart missed a beat when she had shown him that pendant. He hadn’t felt too tired when he’d come to the funeral; now he felt completely drained. Shaky with fatigue. Maybe he should accept his mother’s invitation to stay the night before driving back home. He stared up at the deep blue sky, watching clouds wander lazily overhead, and started shuddering.

“Karl. Karl! What is it?” cried his mother.

His hands clenched convulsively and he clung to the car door trying to stay upright. Several of the other mourners turned at the shrill tone of his mother’s voice and hurried across the grass toward them.

“I’m … I’m fine,” said Karl, as his knees turned to water and he sank toward the ground.

Before he could fall his mother inserted herself under his arm and Mr. Gregory appeared, taking his other side.

“I’m … just tired that’s all,” murmured Karl as the world went grey. “Tired.”

* * * * *

The next morning, feeling somewhat stronger and still itchy, Amber opened the front door of her aunt’s home and cursed, vigorously and at length. Her Uncle Robyn’s battered, powerless, disreputable VW van sat on the drive. She knew that somewhere – somewhere near – there were two Harleys, a comfortable and stylish silver Lexus, and a very gently aged vintage Rolls.

Her own beautiful black Aztec was, with hope, still sitting in the parking lot outside the bookstore waiting to be picked up.

Instead of giving her one of the better cars the house had given her Robyn’s VW. That more than anything else told her what the house thought of her contaminated state.

Near the drive Rust and Lightning were operating hedge trimmers and weed whackers. Amber stomped gracelessly down the stairs.

“Ready to go?” asked Lightning, putting down the hedge trimmer.

“Yeah. I suppose. Don’t I rate a better car?”

“Apparently not,” Rust grinned and shook his head. “Should have been more careful with your own.”

“I didn’t wreck the other car. I was taken away by ambulance.”

“The house isn’t happy with you right now,” said Lightning. “Be grateful you haven’t been given a roller skate with a missing wheel.”

“Well, Robyn swears that if his van isn’t driven every few days it forgets how. Perhaps you get the van to keep it in working shape while he’s away?” suggested Rust.

Amber made a rude noise. “Lucinda told me ages ago Robyn only says that because Lucinda won’t let him have any beer in the house so he drives to a bar twice a week.”

Rust shrugged and went back to his dandelion beheading.

“I don’t know about that,” he said, blushing.

Despite her annoyance Amber grinned. Did they really imagine that Lucinda was unaware of what her husband got up to? After all these years? Whenever Smoke or Robyn came over to New York with items that couldn’t be sent by mail, she always escorted them to the local cigar bars. Amber didn’t drink or smoke, but the guys enjoyed both.

Ah, well.

She opened the door of the grubby old camper, pushed the old baseball caps and other debris off the seat with a rolled up newspaper, and climbed in. Robyn’s VW camper had a top speed of thirty … downhill. The fuel indicator hadn’t worked since the Ford Administration, and the vehicle tended to shiver in alarm if asked to drive on highways. The doors didn’t lock and its key was lost forever.

And the seating was customized to suit Robyn DeGoode’s not quite five-foot frame.

The only good thing about the van was it would never be stolen. Who would ever want to try? Diving under the steering column Lightning twisted two exposed wires together and the van coughed to life. At Amber’s gesture Lightning climbed into the passenger seat.

“Sure you don’t want me to drive?” asked Lightning. “You’re the one who knocked her head yesterday.”

“Lightning, don’t take this the wrong way,” Amber smiled, “Actually, there’s no other way to take it, so learn to live with the pain. I’d have to be unconscious, or dead, before I’d let you drive me anywhere again.”

“Fair enough,” said Lightning, and drawing his baseball cap over his eyes, he folded his arms and settled back for a nap.

Amber climbed awkwardly into the driver’s seat and tried to adjust it. It wouldn’t move. With some wiggling around and cursing she was able to lean around the driver’s chair enough to see that at some point in the van’s history the driver’s seat had been welded to the floor. It wasn’t moving. Ever. Then she removed her shoes, just in case it was the half inch of heel that was stopping her from fitting comfortably and started cursing.

Lightning lifted the bill of his baseball cap. “Ready to go when you are,” he said.

“Oh, come over here and drive,” snarled Amber and wiggled her way out of the van. “And if I find out you’re responsible for us getting this van today, I’ll see to it you regret it!”

Once Amber was settled into the passenger seat Lightning sent them shuddering and squealing down the road to Laurenville.

When the van chugged up the hill overlooking Laurenville, Amber asked Lightning to pull to the side of the road, then she climbed out. She lifted the old car’s hood, guaranteeing that no one would come near her, and pulled out her cell phone for added realism. Then she turned to stare down into the valley.

Ignoring the guilt that suggested she should have done this on the first trip, she rested one hand on the van’s hot metal shell for an anchor and unfocused her outer eyes. High thin clouds drifted across the clear blue sky. Even this early, the day was burning and heat rose in waves from the road. Amber watched the ripples idly, allowing her eyes to lift with the waves. Minutes passed.

“What do you see?” asked Lightning.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Frowning, she cleared her mind and tried again. She watched the flights of birds, drifting insects, and dust motes all without result.

“I can’t believe it, Lightning,” she said after fifteen fruitless minutes ticked past. “They’ve built a town near no ley lines at all. Who would do anything that … that … ignorant? How could they
find
a place with no ley lines?”

She climbed back into the car and tapped her fingers on the door. It didn’t make sense. People instinctively built near paths of power. Churches, particularly, were usually located near intersecting ley lines. There were two churches she could see from her vantage point by the road, but no Ethereal power lines.

“You know, this is a nice location. Close to the ski slopes, close to the summer stuff, and yet the town’s depressed,” said Amber. “They’re probably wondering why visitors didn’t come back. Why their tourist traps don’t have many victims. Building a place near no ley lines means no one with imagination would ever feel attracted to this place. No. Wait. That doesn’t make sense. If that was the case why didn’t the town fail years ago? This place should be an old ghost town.”

Lightning pushed the van into gear and they headed down the road at the life threatening speed of twenty miles a decade.

Yesterday she had not paid any attention to the town, the people. Now she studied everything. She counted the strip malls’ painted over windows, the out of business gas stations, the tourist traps – closed for the season – all seasons. Even with the economy tanking there should have been more signs of life this time of day. Lightning turned into the bookstore parking lot and pulled to a stop next to her Aztec.

Lightning didn’t have to be told to stay clear of the door that had attacked her yesterday. Keeping his eyes averted he followed Amber as she ducked around the back of the van, climbed into the Aztec, and turned on the engine and the air-conditioning.

Amber rested her folded arms on the steering wheel and people-watched. Those who were walking down the street had relatively healthy, strong auras. Their minds were alert and interested. The ones who were leaving the bookstore were tired and contaminated.

“The only place I’ve ever seen worse than this is Heathrow Airport,” muttered Lightning. “This place feels dead.”

“Very.”

They waited and watched for the next two hours. Despite a dozen or so people entering the store they didn’t see anyone approach the semi-comatose sales associate at the desk to buy a book. Instead they presumably bought large coffees at the cafe and fell asleep within minutes. There was no sign of the manager and Amber wasn’t certain if that was good or bad.

“Maybe they’re putting something in the coffee,” suggested Lightning when Amber mentioned the sleeping customers, the barely moving staff.

“Can’t think why they’d drug them.” Amber frowned through the window. “Poor business sense, if nothing else. People who’re asleep don’t buy anything. No. I think the web is doing this. Why is this happening? Who put the web here? And where is the spider?”

Lightning shrugged.

“And how did Lucinda pick up on this … this situation?” continued Amber.

“She’s the witch,” said Lightning. “Who knows how she learns anything?”

There was nothing to see on the outside of the town. Not with normal vision. Driving straight through, as many people seemed to, there didn’t appear to be anything wrong. Just another small tourist town going under in the recession. Unless she made the effort to visit Laurenville via the Ethereal Planes, there was nothing to see. With a shiver she started the car.

“We aren’t learning anything this way,” she said to Lightning. “I don’t know why I thought we would.”

“It’s what the detectives do on TV,” said Lightning. “Stakeouts. We should get coffee and wear disguises.”

Amber snorted at the ridiculous image.

“Well, I don’t have the temperament to sit and stare at nothing for hours in the hope that a bad guy will conveniently choose the time I’m watching to do something interesting. No. It’s time to go.”

“Where?” asked Lightning eagerly.

“Get the VW. I’ll follow you home.”

“Home?” Lightning’s face fell. “Are you sure? Can’t we go detect somewhere else?”

“Where?”

“Here, at the store? Don’t you want a sample of the coffee?”

“No.”

“I’ll get it, if you want.”

Amber cast him an I-don’t-believe-you-are-that-stupid glance.

“Smoke would kill both of us. Get out, we’re going home.”

“Fine.” He didn’t bother hiding his disappointment, slammed the car door and stumped back to the van.

Stupid she wasn’t. Not twice, anyway. She wasn’t anywhere near ready to go into that place.

She went home.

* * * * *

His mother wasn’t going to be pleased when she got home and found that Karl was gone. He’d flatly refused to go to a hospital. Instead she’d dragged him home from the memorial service, tucked him into the bed in the room still decorated with his high school achievements, and he’d passed out again. When he woke he found a message attached to the fridge, another flashback to his teen years, telling him that she had gone to work and he was to call the family doctor as soon as he woke up. Next to it was the doctor’s business card clasped in another fridge magnet so he wouldn’t have an excuse to refuse.

Instead Karl escaped. Climbed into his car and headed back to Laurenville. His mother didn’t need to know he’d already seen good old Doctor Forester the previous year – a physician who didn’t know Karl from Adam despite being Karl’s “family” physician since his eleventh birthday. He’d been given a clean bill of health with the proviso that he “get some rest.” That was the most that modern medicine could give him. He was tired. Lie down and sleep. Simple fix for a simple problem.

He didn’t have the common problems. He didn’t have lupus, chronic fatigue syndrome, or depression. His blood counts were normal, his lipids fine. Even his vitamin D levels were the envy of the lab department. He was rock solid normal. Healthy.

Except he wasn’t.

Once he was safely an hour out of town he’d called his mother to let her know he was gone. Her tears were harder to take than her scolding, but bottom line, there was nothing for him to do. Nothing for her to do.

Nothing in Laurenville either.

It was getting nearly nine p.m. when he called the bookstore to check on the situation just in time for more bad news.

Another sales associate was quitting.

“Jessica, this isn’t the best time to be letting me know you have a new job. Last month when you accepted it was the time. You’re scheduled to work tomorrow morning. You’ve inconvenienced me and the person who is going to have to cover your shifts; and this stunt will certainly not impress your new boss if he ever finds out about it.” Silence floated down the line and Karl bit back a curse, then sighed. “Okay, I’ll mail your final check to the address you have on record. Put Bessie back on the line.” A few seconds later and his patient, reliable second in command grumbled at him. “Bess, I know it’s hard. I promise this is the last time. I’ll find a way to make it up to you. Time off in lieu and overtime. Will you come in tomorrow, please? I’m heading back now so I’ll be there to open up. Can you manage it?”

“Like it makes a difference,” snapped Bessie, “I’ll be drinking as much coffee as I’ll be making you know.”

“I know, I know. Just, please come in. I owe you one.”

“You owe me quite a few,” was the reply. “And I will collect.”

Karl snapped his cell phone closed and tightened his hands on the steering wheel. Resignations, complaints from staff, and a text message saying they were running low on coffee supplies. Nothing new in his world.

Karl kept his eyes on the road, trying to stay focused despite the tightening in his chest. Every month Mike helped him carry in the coffee supplies. Nothing was said. Nothing planned. Karl never asked for help and Mike never referred to it. He would just turn up on the right day, hang around the store until the delivery man arrived, and it just seemed natural to tag along, lift a box or two. Just being there to help with a task that could’ve been beyond Karl’s failing strength was friendship.