Maggie Get Your Gun (8 page)

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!?!?” I shouted at the receiver.

"I’m fine, Maggie-girl!” he said.  “I’m fine.  There's
no reception in the desert.”

He sounded like he was talking into a tin can, but I still
heard the edge in his voice.

I closed my door and locked it.

“What’s going on, Dad?”

“Listen, there is a second comb…”

“I know.  And a third comb.  I just left Xiaoming’s place,”
I said, looking up at our cranky friend’s apartment.  “Just to clarify our
earlier conversation, I thought we weren’t ever going to work with Mr. Smith
ever again, which is funny, because you left your folder and it happened to
have Mr. Smith’s job in there.”

“After you left to track down that genie, Maggie, I opened
up the envelope and realized what it was.  The vampires are trying to assemble
the Empress’s Set.”

“Yah, Xiaoming got me up to speed.”

“Did you get the necklace?”

“No,” I replied.  “I caught the guy, but he didn't have it.”

My dad let loose with a tirade of expletives.  I held the
phone away from my ear until he wound down.

“God, Dad, you sound just like Xiaoming.”

“We hit it off.”

“Listen, I’ll find the necklace.  I'll find the third
comb.  It’s gonna be okay.  Where are you?”

“I’m leaving Randsburg,” he said.

“I don’t even know where that is.”

“Don’t worry about it.  It's got an old silver mine.  Mr.
Smith said in his envelope the jade comb would be there and it was.”

“Well… good job, Dad.  Sorry you had to fight some
werewolves.  Um… do you want me to pick up a pizza… or something…?”

I had no idea what you’re supposed to say to someone who you
thought might have been ripped apart by vicious monsters and then turns out to not
only be just fine but also managed to secure a really important artifact in his
downtime.

“Listen, Maggie, I’m taking the comb to Ghost Town tonight.”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa WHOA.  Ghost Town?  Not ‘a ghost town’
but '
The
Ghost Town’?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Why in cuss would you think that was a good idea?” I
asked. 

“Mr. Smith said so."

"And if Mr. Smith told you to jump off a bridge, you'd
think that was a good idea, too?"

"You think bringing this mess home is a better idea? 
You wanna explain to your mother why a pack of werewolves ate her hibiscus?"

I looked up at Xiaoming's apartment.  Mom sure as hell
didn't need us to bring something ugly back from the office.  I should have
listened to that pesky little voice in my head that knew Mr. Smith was
trouble.  I KNEW he was.  If I had just told him MacKay & MacKay Tracking
was closed for the weekend, we'd all be kicking back watching reruns instead of
making runs out to the desert... 

I think Dad took my silence as ire instead of
introspection, because he sounded like he was trying to smooth things over, "Listen,
there's a lot of silver in the ground out there in Ghost Town and a bunch of poltergeists
to guard it.  If dumping things in the desert is good enough for the mob, it is
good enough for us, right Maggie-girl?"

"Why can't Mr. Smith just destroy it?" I asked,
feeling like this whole drama could be over with a hammer and a couple of whacks.

"Who knows?  But I've picked up several items for him
over the years and he's always had me drop them off in Ghost Town.  It's an
easy game.  Probably where he keeps his secret lair.  I'm betting it's safer
than hiding it in a hole in his backyard."

I couldn't believe my dad, "You never bothered to
mention to me that you were making regular trips out there because...?"

"Why?  You hate Ghost Town."

"Touché."

"Listen, in the envelope was the info on the quartz
comb, too, Maggie.  I put it in the safe.  Can you track it down?   Meet me out
in Ghost Town?  I'll show you all my old haunts.”

"Nyuck, nyuck, funny guy."

There are big, tough football linebackers out there who are
afraid of spiders.  And I might be able to stake a vampire with my eyes closed
and one arm tied behind my back, but ghosts?  Man.  They were my kryptonite.

“I’m not setting foot in that place, Dad.”

He was saying something, but the line started crackling.

“You there, Dad?”

“I’m here, Maggie!  Listen, tell your mom I’m fine.  I’ll
be in Ghost Town.  Find the other comb!”

And then the line went dead.

I stowed my phone in my purse and started my car.

Fucking Ghost Town.

Chapter 13

I leaned my head on the kitchen counter thinking about how
the day had gone from bad to worse.  I had swung by the office on the way home
and picked up the quartz comb file.  Seems that, indeed, I had another long ass
haul to Calico ahead of me.  My poor old car was going to need new tires before
all this fun was done.  If there was such thing as a frequent drivers program,
I'd be halfway to a free road trip.  I had called Killian on my way back to my
place and expected him any time.

I opened up my freezer and the thought of nuking dinner was
too overwhelming.  I poured some milk in a bowl and grabbed a cereal box.  True
to Murphy’s Law, there was a knock at the door.  I looked sadly down at my
crispy “O”s, which were now gonna get all soggy, but set them on the counter. 
I wiped a drip of milk off my lip and opened up the door.

“Greetings, Tracker Maggie!” squeaked a familiar little
voice.

“Pipistrelle!” I smiled.  I loved that fucking brownie.  He
had taken a job keeping my sister’s house clean and protected.  From what I heard,
she was living like a queen.

“How did you get over here?” I asked, ushering him in.

He wiped his bitty feet on my doormat and jumped over the
threshold like a kindergartener playing in puddles.

“I am here on official business!” said Pipistrelle, his
little chest all puffed up.  He held out a lavender envelope glued to a lacy
doily.

“Thanks, Pipistrelle.”

I took the envelope and opened it up with my finger.  It
was a gold embossed invitation to dinner Wednesday night from my twin sister,
Mindy.  Her husband, Austin, was out of town, and she had mentioned a couple
days ago she might have the family over.  I just hadn’t thought I’d need to
rent a ball gown.  I mean, my sister could give Martha Stewart a run for her
money, but this was a little over the top even for her. 

“Mindy could have just... called…” I started, looking over
at the brownie.

“I told her I would invite you!” said Pipistrelle.

The pieces were all starting to fall into place.  I guess
there are only so many tubs a brownie can scrub before you start inventing
projects.  Or start saying “yes” to projects he’s invented.

“Ohhhh…” I said.  “Well, you little knee high messenger,
you tell her that I would be greatly pleased to join her Wednesday night,
especially since you made it so fancy.  Did you want me to fill out this RSVP
card?"

I held it up and Pipistrelle shook his head from side to
side, "I will remember!"

"I'm glad to see you're taking such good care of my
sister.”

Pipistrelle beamed and then seemed to remember something.

“This note was on your car,” he squeaked, waving a little
white piece of paper, “I thought I should give it to you before something ate
it.”

I took the folded piece of paper, “Good thinking.”

I opened it up and read, “
We know you seek the combs. 
Bring them to me or Isaac Smith will die. –Vaclav
.”

And then the paper lit itself on fire.

Fuck.

Chapter 14

“Hey, Killian!  Thanks for coming over so late.”

I scanned the outside and it seemed fairly free of
monsters.  A couple of witches were walking their hobgoblins, but nothing out
of the ordinary.  Killian stepped through the door and gave me a full body hug.

“This wasn’t a booty call,” I said, pushing him off my leg.

“An elf should be allowed his dreams,” he sighed before
giving me a wink and going to the kitchen to rummage through my refrigerator. 
“If you did not contact me for the pleasure of my company, to what do I owe
thanks for this summons?”

I leaned against the doorway, “Wannna save the world
again?”

“Any particular reason why we should save it at this
particular moment?”

“Remember that can of worms you and I pushed to the back of
the pantry?  Well, Dad decided to open it.  We're mixed up in some fun with Mr.
Smith.  Again.”

I handed him the growing folder of the stuff I’d gotten
from both Xiaoming’s pad and the wall safe.  Killian grabbed the whole jug of
orange juice.  Guess he figured he probably was gonna need a drink after this. 
He picked up the folder and started thumbing his way through, his eyes getting
bigger with each passing page.

I summarized recent events for him as he read, “Dad was
attacked by some werewolves over at Xiaoming's place because of some jade comb
that went with that brass comb we brought over.  So, he has that comb and is headed
out to Ghost Town to get rid of it.  I have to go pick up a matching quartz
comb and meet him there.  Somewhere along the line I also have to find a
necklace that can trap souls.  I’d handle it myself, except Vaclav left me a
lovely little note on the windshield of my car saying he was going to kill Mr.
Smith, which I'd give to you to read, except it spontaneously combusted.”

Killian walked into the living room and took a big long
swig.

“So, I need to find a comb, get it to my dad, and try not
to get my client killed by Vaclav.  You in?”

Killian looked down at the file, “Killing Mr. Smith... we
are positive this is undesirable?”

Chapter 15

“Is it too late to renegotiate the terms of this
engagement?” asked Killian as a scorpion scuttled across our path.

"Come on.  It's just a little desert critter," I
said.

"I prefer woodland creatures."

"Like what?"

"Bears and wolves."

I elbowed him in the ribs, "Who knew a big guy like
you was scared of an itty bitty bug?"

"Who knew a mortal like you was afraid of
ghosts."

"That was a secret I told you in confidence,
elf."

It was early afternoon.  We were a little later getting
started than I would have liked, but traffic between Los Angeles and Calico had
decided to make us its bitch.  Fortunately, the sun was still pretty high in
the sky and Mr. Smith had included a treasure map in his “Welcome to Your New
Gig” Info Packet.  We had parked out by a bunch of RVs and campers and followed
the hiking trails, which skirted Calico proper.

We were on the far side of this great big hill, which was a
part of the Silver King Mine.  Evidently it was like a honeycomb inside with something
like thirty-miles worth of warren-like tunnels.   The paperwork said Mr. Smith
thought the hairpiece was in the old Glory Hole, the great big pit that made
boys into men and fortunes were won.  No, not the town’s cat house.  The Glory
Hole, home of the muthalode.

There was a tiny little doorway in the side of the
mountain.  The rocks were black with all the silver, almost $2 million still
left in the soil, according to the "Fun Facts" list.  I gave a low
whistle, “We could make a killing with all this ore.”

“Indeed, we could become very wealthy.”

“I meant we could kill a bunch of monsters with it,
Killian.”

“That, too.”

I pointed at the gully we’d have to walk through in order
to get down to the entrance, “The good news is that the silver ore should make
traveling through this path uncomfortable enough to keep away any magical
creatures.”

“As long as they have not found the quartz comb yet…”

“Yes, as long as they have not found the quartz comb yet,
party pooper.  We should get moving before they beat us to it, unless there are
some more of my hopes you'd like to dash.  Shall we?” I asked, putting on my
spelunking hat.

Killian swept his arm, “After you.”

“I don’t think that’s particularly the chivalrous thing to
do in this case.”

“I am sure it is.”

“I think you should go before me,” I said as we started
down the side of the embankment, rocks sliding beneath our shoes.

“I am here only in a backup capacity.”

We went in together.

I flipped on my headlamp and flashed my light deep into the
tunnel.  It appeared we were alone.  I hated that neither of us would put
“crawling through dark places” on our Top 10 List of Awesome Things.  Someone
needed to be the spunky cheerleader on this adventure.  I looked at Killian, “I
wish you were a mountain dwarf.”