WaffleHenge was nearly empty now in the time between breakfast and lunch. The only other diners were three old men who were all reading their own copies of the Blackwood Review and not talking to each other. Donna swept the scuffed linoleum floor near the counter. And Ezra chewed on the last of his toast as he glanced around, thinking. His gaze stopped on the old men, and he stopped chewing.
“Oh no,” he said, glancing down at where a watch normally sat on his bony wrist. “What time is it?”
Eve checked her phone. “9:24.”
Ezra stood up so quickly he rattled the table. “I’m late for work,” he said, worrying his hands. “Can I pay you back for breakfast later? I don’t have my wallet.”
Eve nodded. “Sure. Do you need a ride?”
Ezra shook his head, bouncing on his feet and looking at the door. “No, I’ll run. It’ll be quicker.”
Jon watched him with a little crease between his eyebrows. Eve shrugged and waved as Ezra took long steps to the door.
As soon as the door closed with a jingle behind Ezra, Jon leaned across the table and caught Eve’s eye. “We need to find out how Chelsea died.”
“Duh.” Eve shook her head. “I mean, I don’t think it was actually Ezra. But he’s not going to stop thinking about it until we can prove it.”
“Right,” Jon said. He nodded and leaned back.
“We need to talk about this somewhere else,” Eve said.
Jon’s back straightened, his face brightening like the embodiment of a light bulb moment. “Can we go to your apartment? I have an idea.”
***
Eve’s apartment was still torn apart from Chelsea’s tantrum the night before. Eve had scooted things out of her immediate way, but left everything else where it was. So when Jon stepped through the door behind her, he gave a long whistle.
“Damn,” he said. “I wonder why last night was so bad.” He headed straight for the desk, stepping over the mess. “I have a theory about your magical abilities,” he added.
Eve made a face. “Bleh.” She started gathering up the many papers scattered on the floor. “What is it?” She yawned. How much coffee had she had at WaffleHenge? She couldn’t remember, but she still felt exhausted, limbs heavy and brain sluggish.
“You wrote down the spell that bound Chelsea to you, right?”
The ghostly presence hovering apologetically over Eve intensified briefly at the mention of her name. Eve’s shoulders crept up toward her ears, and she nodded. “I transcribed the henge runes that apparently were a spell.”
“So,” Jon continued, “maybe what you need to cast a spell is to write it down.”
“But last night I didn’t write anything down,” she said. “I said it. It’s all bullshit.”
Jon thought for a moment, scratching his jaw. “And you told Kyle to leave the other day, too.” He shrugged. “We can try it, at least. You don’t know it won’t work.”
Eve pursed her lips. “Whatever,” she said. Jon correctly interpreted it as grudging acceptance of his idea. He perked up and herded Eve over to her desk.
“Write a spell for us, then,” he said. He took the stack of papers from her arms and gathered more from the floor. He left them in a pile on Eve’s desk and picked up a handful of pens.
“To do what?” Eve said, voice flat. “I can’t magically produce the medical examiner’s report to show Ezra Chelsea’s wounds weren’t wolf bites.”
Jon gasped, looking up at her. “Maybe not, but you can magically help me break into the police station.” Eve stared at him. Jon’s smile was as easy as ever, not even a sliver of doubt on his face.
“Okay, fine.” Eve opened a drawer and sifted through her various fancy papers. “But I’m not coming in after you if something goes wrong.” She was tired. She didn’t want to think anymore, or argue, or protest that she was not a witch. If Jon wanted to do some stupid shit, she wasn’t going to stop him, especially if it was going to help get rid of Chelsea.
“It’ll be easy,” he said, blithe as ever. “Even if I did get caught, I’m sure I could talk my way out of it.” He beamed, and Eve blinked at the brightness. She wondered again how much of his perky himbo persona was a facade.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Eve pulled out a thick, creamy piece of paper and her blue glass pen. She looked at Jon while she thought, and grabbed the sparkly green ink. What kind of “spell” was she supposed to “cast,” anyway? What would make it easier for him to get into the police station and come back out with the medical examiner’s report?
In long, straight strokes, she wrote, “I SHOULD BE HERE.” It was business-like, serious—aside from the ink color. She went back over it to thicken the lines. Then she let it dry for a moment and held it up for Jon to see.
He laughed, delighted. “That’ll work.”
“Yeah, it will,” Eve said as she folded the paper into a small, thick square and handed it to him. “I don’t want to find another ghost hunter, so you’re not allowed to get arrested.”
He laughed again and saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.“ He pushed the note into his pocket and patted it once.
“And Ezra will be sad if you get arrested,” Eve continued.
Jon hesitated. “You think so?” he asked. Eve rolled her eyes and nodded. He swallowed and then smiled again. “Good thing I’ve got Sunflower the witch to keep me out of jail.”
“Give me the paper back,” Eve said, her face blank. “I need to change something.”
“Nooooo,” Jon said, bouncing out of reach. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughed as Eve reached toward him with one hand and punched him lightly in the arm with the other.
She laughed, a huff of breath out her nose, and shook her head. “Shut up. You’re supposed to be stealing from the cops, not being dumb.”
***
The Blackwood Police Station was a squat, square building, glaringly bright beige in the late-morning sunlight. Eve squinted at it from inside her car. A lake breeze slithered in through the open window and she shivered. She tugged at her short sleeves and leaned into the sunlight. The heat of it made her realize she’d been cold since she’d woken up. She felt like a lizard—a warm, sunlit rock to lay on would’ve been incredible right then.
Jon had walked into the station half an hour before, Eve’s “magical” note in his pocket, and Eve was now considering how long she should wait before counting him as lost. She’d said she wasn’t going to rescue him, but even if she’d wanted to, she didn’t know if she could. She’d been exhausted when she’d gotten home the night before, exhausted when she’d woken up with Harvey’s fur in her mouth, exhausted at breakfast, and she was somehow even more tired now. She turned and reached into the back seat for an energy drink and chugged it.
Eve waited for the rush of caffeine to push back the advance of the fatigue and rubbed her face. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes against the warm brightness.
And then the car door closed and Eve jumped. Jon sat in the passenger seat and looked at her.
He frowned and leaned in. “Are you okay, Eve?”
She blinked and took a deep breath. She contemplated lying. “Was I asleep?”
“Chelsea is taking too much from you,” Jon said. He took a file folder out from inside his leather jacket and stuck it between the seat and the center console. Eve’s eyes slowly sank closed, and when she opened them again, Jon was opening her door. “Here, let me drive,” he said, herding her to the passenger side.
Eve opened her eyes again as Jon parked at the North Henge and once again herded her where he wanted her, which was through one of the trilithons.
Eve sucked in a sharp breath and staggered against the nearest stone. The tingling, rushing energy of the ley line sparked up from her feet and the hand on the stone, and for the first time since the night before, she was warm. It was like the sun had finally emerged from behind the clouds, and Eve basked in it for a moment. The long grass around the stones waved gently in the wind.
“As if I wasn’t already pissed enough,” she muttered, “now I have to get magical caffeine to function.”
Jon had a serious, thoughtful set to his mouth. “I think last night’s spell took more out of you than you realized. And then you told Chelsea to speak, which was probably a huge amount of energy.” His brow creased and he frowned. “And I asked you to make me a spell as if it was easy. I’m sorry.”
Eve waved the apology away from her like a swarm of gnats. “It’s whatever. The sooner she’s gone, the sooner I can be done with all of this bullshit.”
“Speaking of,” Jon said, pulling the mysterious folder out of his jacket again and setting it on one of the fallen stones like a table. “The medical examiner’s report.”
“You got it,” Eve said. She sat cross-legged in the warm grass. Her brain felt like it was working at double speed after acting like a geriatric snail all morning.
“It was in a recycling bin,” Jon said, sitting next to her.
Eve flipped through the stapled papers, skimming for something interesting. “But this is important evidence in the case.”
“Wouldn’t be the first corrupt police force.” Jon shrugged. Eve frowned. Detective Ishida, at least, hadn’t seemed dirty. She’d seemed sincere, and sad, about Chelsea.
Eve stopped on a page and read more closely. Jon craned his neck to see, too. “The bites were post-mortem,” she said quietly, aware of the dog walkers and parents with toddlers in the vicinity. “And the bite-mark pattern doesn’t match any known patterns, animal or human.”
“Ezra’s teeth looked pretty wolf-like to me,” Jon said. “Right? So if it was him, that would show up as a wolf bite.”
Eve nodded. “But if it’s not human, what was it?” She read further. “They found DNA in the wounds, but it couldn’t be conclusively identified.” she paused and set the report down on the soft grass. “What the fuck is Kyle?”
“A demon, a vampire, or a fairy,” Jon said. “We covered this already.”
Eve gagged. “None of those are real,” she said, with less confidence than she would normally have in a statement so unequivocally correct. Jon gave her a look. “Fucking hell,” she said. “They’re not, right?”
“You saw a werewolf last night,” Jon said.
“That doesn’t mean every fucking monster and supernatural thing exists!” Eve crossed her arms. “Ugh. You know the worst part about all of this? It means my parents are right.”
Jon laughed and leaned back against a stone. “How terrible,” he said.