Doyle Times Police Blotter, Saturday, May 25th
Dumpster Fire: A Doyle woman reported a dumpster fire in Parnassus Alley on Friday, May 24th, at 6:35 PM. The fire department extinguished the blaze.
My plan was simple.
I walked, sweating in the morning heat, into the police station.
And I didn’t bother with a cloaking spell.
I’d made an appointment. I’d kind of had to. I didn’t know where the sheriff’s private office was located. And I wasn’t a fan of stumbling around the station, cloaked or not. Besides, Ground was open today — I couldn’t abandon my café for a wild goose chase.
Deputy Owen Denton escorted me through the sheriff’s station, filled with natural light. Did my parents’ magic have something to do with the station’s positive vibe? Or was that just the building’s amazing A/C? Because that was a chill slice of heaven on a broiling day.
We walked down a wide hallway. I passed a fire alarm. The hair rose on my arms, as if I’d walked through an electrical field.
My chest fizzed with excitement. I’d just crossed through a protective ward – my parents’ ward. And suddenly I was blinking back tears. It was the first time I’d sensed them, first time I’d felt them. And sure, it was only the remains of a spell, but it was a part of them.
“You okay?” Owen asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I was just looking for a…”
I paused beside a metal waste bin and dropped my near-full water bottle into it. “Trash can,” I finished and grimaced at Owen. “I feel like I’m going to the principal’s office.”
He grinned boyishly and turned, running his hand over the back of his blond head. “You have no idea.”
My face warmed. Hastily, I brushed my palms on my tight, gray tee, sliding them to the hips of my black shorts. I hoped I wasn’t about to get Owen in trouble. He and Connor were partners. Plus, I liked Owen. He was a good egg.
The deputy knocked on a frosted glass door.
Inside, the sheriff grunted something inaudible.
Owen opened the door for me. “Ms. Bonheim is here, Sheriff.”
“I can see that.” She glowered from beneath her Shirley-Temple curls. The sheriff pointed to a chair on the opposite side of her metal desk. It really did look like a high school principal’s desk, stark and non-nonsense. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks.”
The chair was uncomfortable, I guessed intentionally. The sheriff was infamous for hating meetings.
She waited for Owen to leave, for the door to click shut. “What’s so private you can’t talk about it at Ground?”
“Ground doesn’t have my parents’ wards.”
She leaned back in her executive chair. It creaked beneath her. “Ah. You know about those.”
My heart gave a jump. So, the sheriff knew about them too. I cleared my throat. “Then, you know too. I mean, we’ve sort of talked around it before, but… you know about magic. Are you a practitioner?”
She snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“But... the wards—”
“Didn’t do my station much good last January. In case you’ve forgotten, someone set the evidence room on fire then, trying to get that book.”
I stared at my sandals, looked up. “Where is the evidence room?”
“Other side of the building.”
“That might explain the problem. The evidence room may not be inside the wards. I passed through one coming down the hall to your office.” I ran my palms along my damp, bare legs. “But it’s kind of weird the evidence room wouldn’t be inside them.”
Her brow furrowed. “Your parents planned for a small-town sheriff’s station. They didn’t realize a new county would be formed, or that we’d be the seat of the county sheriff. This station has grown a lot bigger than they could have expected. Not that it matters.”
“Why not?”
“Because that evidence room is well fortified. I don’t need to rely on superstition to protect it.”
“Super— But a part of you must believe,” I said slowly. Because if she was so sure of the evidence room’s security, why had she removed the book?
Another weight shift. Another chair squeak. “It’s not that easy,” she said. “Look, I know there’s more to this world than what science would have us believe. But that’s not the fault of science. We think we know it all, but our understanding is constantly evolving. And science is designed to study and explain behavior that repeats itself. The supernatural ain’t that.”
“What are you saying?” I sat forward and pressed my hands to the cool, metal desk.
“I’m saying we don’t know what’s going on here for sure. Science can’t tell me. Yet. The FBI can’t tell me. You can’t tell me.”
“But I am telling you.”
“You’re telling me what you believe. Do you really understand everything that’s going on here?”
“No,” I admitted. “But the people after that book believe they can widen a door my sisters and I worked hard to shut. And if they do...” I swallowed. Involuntarily, my voice lowered. “Some of the things on the other side... Be glad you haven’t seen them.”
She blanched. “I’ve seen what they’ve done.”
We fell silent, remembering.
“And where are your sisters?” she asked.
“I’d rather keep them out of this.”
“Why?”
“Karin’s a mother.”
“And Lenore?”
“Doesn’t want to make things awkward for Connor.”
“Ah.” She leaned back again. The sheriff laced her fingers together over the front of her khaki uniform shirt. “And I repeat, what’s so important you had to come here?”
I glanced at the window, shielded by pines, and gasped.
“What?” She bolted from her chair and went to the window.
“Turn,” I whispered, imagining the feel of the serrated edges of the discarded water bottle’s cap. I made an unscrewing motion with one hand.
“Did you see someone?” She peered out the window.
“I thought I did,” I lied and laughed uneasily. But she hadn’t noticed my gesture or heard my whispered spell. “I must be getting paranoid. What do you know about Black Lodges?”
The sheriff stalked to her chair and dropped into it. “They’re gangs of occultists who dabble in the dark arts.” She sniffed. “Do you smell something?”
My stomach fluttered hollowly. “No,” I said, not looking toward the office door. “The thing is, I don’t know if we can stop them magically. There seem to only be four people at the circus involved. But the tattooed man might know more. He came to me the other night to warn me they planned to hurt me.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“He’s run off. He didn’t tell me where—”
An alarm blared, and we both winced.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Wait here.” She strode out the door, slamming it behind her.
I jumped to my feet and hurried behind her desk. My diversion had worked, but I didn’t know for how long.
Making a stink bomb is a simple matter of mixing ammonia and sulfur. You’re supposed to let it sit for several days to get a real stink on. Good thing I was able to magically speed that process.
The trick is getting the bottle of stink to open when you want it to. But I had that spell covered too, thanks to a misspent youth. It had taken weeks for teenage Jayce to get the spell right. My furious aunt had insisted those weeks would have been better spent on homework. But it had all paid off today.
Heart hammering, I yanked on the desk drawer.
Locked.
I shrugged. After all, I wasn’t exactly hopeless in the lock-opening department either. Snatching a paperclip off the desk, I bent it into a likely shape. I had plenty of experience with old locks. Back in the day, I’d been capital-T trouble. But the really critical thing is, I’d never been caught.
I wiggled the paperclip in the lock. Nothing happened. I twisted and prodded the thin wire. My lockpicking skills might be a tad rusty, but I didn’t remember old desk locks being that difficult. Frowning, I jiggled the paperclip.
Nada.
I rocked back on my heels and glanced at the closed door.
Teen Jayce was failing me. But I was an earth witch. Metal comes from the earth. The lock and desk and paperclip were all metal and under my dominion.
Theoretically.
I cracked my knuckles and took the paperclip between two fingers. Closing my eyes, I centered myself and became the wire. Obviously, I didn’t turn into a paperclip. I just sort of... sympathized with it and the lock. I wasn’t going to try to force or control it, because that would be rude. Though Karin had frequently complained my goodwill and love spells were rude too...
I shook myself. Not the time to ponder witch ethics.
I relaxed and smiled. Paperclip. Lock. I breathed into my heart. It lightened with happiness. I was the paperclip and the lock and me all at the same time. We were working together, just sliding along, just turning...
The lock clicked.
“Yes,” I hissed. Hands trembling, I pulled open the drawer.
Inside, lay a black, leather-bound book wrapped in thick plastic, and my stomach heaved.
I recoiled. I’d never seen the Necronomicon before, though Lenore had described it. But I would have known it even if she hadn’t. It just felt wrong.
Hurry. But I didn’t want to touch it, even wrapped in plastic. And that was an instinct I was going with.
I tugged down the hem of my stretchy gray tee, wrapping it around my hand. This kind of stretch was not going to be good for the fabric. Carefully, I reached into the drawer and pulled out the book.
My nostrils flared in disgust. “Written in blood. Who would do that?” Keeping my awkward hold on the book, I hurried around the desk.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I spun. The book flew from my awkward hold, hit the floor, and skidded across the linoleum.
In the open doorway, the sheriff stood rigid. The lines around her mouth whitened. “Jayce Bonheim, you are under arrest.”