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The Crossroads Keeper Series
Are We Winning Yet?

Are We Winning Yet?

“Number five, man alive. That’s number five, man alive, ladies and gents.” The sonorous voice of the Bingo caller rolled through the huge church hall. Scores of elderly attendees, eyes down, assiduously marked their multiple Bingo cards with thick, colored markers.

“BINGO!” A sharp voice cut through the haze of concentration, enlivening the masses, who turned their sharpened gazes toward the source of the cry. “I checked, and it’s definitely Bingo this time,” the speaker muttered defensively. The massive pompom on his knit hat bounced crazily as he nodded enthusiastically.

A grizzled elder in a Yankees baseball hat shouted insults at the purported winner. “Yeah, like the last three times you thought you had Bingo ... and you didn’t. They should’a banned you already, you old goat.”

“Okay, Tony, why don’t you shout out your Bingo numbers, and we’ll check.” The Bingo caller attempted to dispel the air of suspicion around the elderly man’s supposed win.

As Tony called out his numbers, Jesse, seated at a large table in the corner with her new SBI friends, aired her own gripe. “How come we can’t play Bingo while we have our strategy meeting? I don’t know about you lot, but I can mark Bingo cards and listen at the same time. And why are we meeting here, anyway?”

Cerri eyed Jesse with determined patience. “As I explained when we chose this spot, Jesse, I’m afraid the scrapyard may now have unfriendly ears listening in. Midnight caught two rats last night. She told me they are the first she’s ever seen inside the scrapyard, as even non-magical rats avoid the powerful energy surrounding the place. Unfortunately, one rat turned out to be a Familiar. He won’t say who his magical partner is, but I suspect it’s not someone on our side.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. But why the Bingo Hall? It’s like leading a horse to water, but not letting them drink. I love Bingo.” Jesse grumbled her grievance.

Larry huddled under the table, on his best canine behavior while attempting to pass as the Service Dog Jesse had claimed him to be. He poked Jesse with his nose and mind-spoke a soft rebuke. “Jesse, you know this is a great place to meet. Cerri’s illusion around our table makes it appear that you’re all just a bunch of oldsters, busily marking your Bingo cards, more interested in winning the Bingo prize than saving the world. What villain, magical or otherwise, would suspect a bunch of blue- and purple-haired senior citizens of conspiring to disrupt his evil machinations?”

Heads nodded around the table, confirming that Larry had shared his words of wisdom with the group.

“Whose side are you on, anyway? You’re supposed to be my Familiar.” Jesse gave Larry an evil grin. “Or, rather, my Service Dog.”

Larry’s lips curled. He regarded Jesse with stubborn, sad eyes. “I’m your Familiar alright. And I’m not about to make the same mistake I made with Mabel when I buried my head in the sand and let her convince me she could handle things on her own. I’m gonna make you listen, and you and I are gonna help these nice SBI agents arrest the bad guys and save the world. Understood old lady?”

Jesse bristled. “Who are you calling old, furball? You’ve got at least a couple centuries on me!”

“Well, if you will dress in those ridiculous velvet track suits with writing on the butt and magic your hair silvery blue—”

A sharp crack echoed off the transparent walls of the magical bubble surrounding them as Cerri’s hand smacked the wooden surface of the table. “That’s enough, you two. We’ve got work to do. Risa, report, please.”

Risa rose to her feet, her diminutive size bringing her gaze merely to the same height as the witches seated around the table. Today, she wore a loose dress dotted with improbably large daisies floating in a cerulean blue sky. Around her neck hung several rows of plastic beads in a garish shade of yellow that clashed with the daisies. Her light blue hair, at least, matched her dress. She cleared her throat and loosened her hold on a stack of papers clutched to her chest.

“Hello everyone. I’ve got a lot to report today, so let’s get to it.” Risa handed Jesse the papers and asked, “can you please take one and pass them along?”

Jesse grumbled a response, but dutifully peeled off a sheet before passing the papers to the witch seated next to her.

Fixing a stern eye on the group, Risa began. “I’m going to go through each item and summarize our current knowledge. Please hold your questions until the end. First, our interrogation of the rat Familiar caught by Midnight has filled in a lot of blanks. We have now confirmed the identity of the mage who is seeking the Universum. His name is Michael Malfisco. He is the grandson of Carlos Giotti, head of the Giotti crime family, which has bases here and in Brooklyn. For the past several years, Michael has been in competition with several other grandsons for the role of heir apparent.”

Gasps echoed around the table at Risa’s words.

Larry’s stomach sank. He’d heard of the exploits of the Giotti crime family and knew they used threats, intimidation and even murder, along with heavy doses of magic, to hold their position as one of the richest and most powerful magical crime families on the East Coast. “But what about the old man’s sons?”

Risa acknowledged Larry’s question with a nod. “Carlos’ wife gave him several daughters, but only one son. His son died in a magical explosion a decade ago. Being a traditionalist, Carlos would never consider a woman to head the family, which leaves his three daughters’ half dozen or so male progeny to duke it out amongst themselves. Carlos is a big believer in the survival of the fittest. He’ll let his grandsons kill each other off until only one is left standing. Michael Malfisco is the son of his oldest daughter, and one of only two grandsons still in competition for the top heir-apparent prize. The other grandson, Anthony Manucci, is heavily favored to be the winner, however Michael isn’t out of the game yet. In fact ....”

Risa hesitated, then glanced at Cerri, who nodded for her to continue. “Last night, we captured one of the mages that have been spying on the scrapyard.” Risa’s eyes glittered. “With a small amount of ‘encouragement’, he spilled the beans. Apparently, Michael has decided he no longer wants the top prize as his grandfather’s heir. He’s got altogether grander plans.”

The atmosphere around the table tightened, all eyes focused on the small but powerful witch’s words.

Jesse broke the tense silence. “Well, get on with it, Risa. Tell us what you think this Michael character has planned that affects the supernatural world. Since the Giotti family seems to restrict most of its criminal activity to the human realm, why should we worry? What makes you think this guy plans to go all ‘magical destruction’ on everyone?”

Cerri fixed Jesse with a narrow-eyed stare. “Jesse, you are here today because Larry pled your case. He assures me you are on our side, and not a traitor to your witch oath, which, as you know, obligates you to work to preserve and protect the earth and all its inhabitants. Including humans. Please don’t make me doubt the wisdom of my decision.”

Eyes wide in disbelief, Jesse’s mouth dropped open. She jumped to her feet, fists clenched. “Now wait just a minute! I’ve never betrayed my witch oath, nor would I. Who’s been saying otherwise?! Hang on … is that why you and Larry slunk off last night after dinner? To discuss my potential treachery? I’ve got nothing to do with this situation. I didn’t get myself sent to manage this goddess-forsaken magical scrapyard on purpose, you know.” Jesse’s face dropped, hurt reflecting in her eyes. “Is that what you all suspect? That I’m part of this plot? That I had a hand in the death of my oldest friend and coven leader?”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Jesse angrily swiped at the tears leaking down her cheeks, then pounded her fist on the table, an angry echo of Cerri’s earlier gesture. “Come on then, being the all-powerful Brew cre—witches you are, one of you must have a truth spell on you. Lemme have it. I’ll take it here and now to prove my loyalty and get this traitor sh—er stuff out of the way.”

Larry padded closer to Jesse and pressed his body against her legs. “Calm down, partner. At this rate, you’re more likely to be given a tantrum spell than a truth one. You realize that, looking at this from the outside, Cerri and her crew have every right to question the convenience of our sudden reassignment to the scrapyard.”

“You may have a point, fur-butt. But that doesn’t make the doubt any easier to swallow.”

“No one’s asking you to swallow anything.” Larry cocked his head thoughtfully. “But offering to swallow a truth brew is a point in your favor.”

“As if I need one. You can see my heart, bud. You know I’m no traitor.” Jesse stroked Larry’s head softly, with a hand still shaking in anger.

“Yes, I can see your heart, but Cerri can’t. You’re a powerful Fire witch, Jesse. No witch alive can see your heart unless you voluntarily reveal it.” Larry leaned into Jesse’s hand. “Take the truth brew, please. I—we need you fully on board with this. We both know what happened last time we buried our heads in the sand about potential danger and left others to sort things out. Someone … Mabel died.” Larry’s ears drooped sadly.

After a moment Jesse gave Larry’s head a last pat. She heaved a resigned sigh, then rose from her chair and up straight. Purposefully, her determined gaze met that of each witch present before settling on Cerri. “Well? Does one of you have a truth brew on hand? I’ll take it now. Then you can ask all the questions you like so I can prove my innocence and we can get on with the business of saving the world from this moron ... I mean, magical mobster.”

Cerri nodded agreement, before gesturing to a tall, thin witch with stooped shoulders, pure white hair, and sharp blue eyes surrounded by a maze of deep wrinkles.

Jesse realized with a shock that this witch wasn’t using an age spell. She was legitimately ancient. At a guess, the elderly witch had to be well over four, maybe even five centuries old. Jesse’s stomach dropped. This senior witch had had plenty of time over the last half millennia, or so, to perfect her brewing magic. Any truth potion she concocted was likely to be a humdinger. Jesse shook off her fears. She had nothing to hide. “Well, ma’am? Do you have a brew for me?”

“The name is Mary, dear. And I always come prepared.” The elderly witch giggled. “Isn’t that the Boy Scout motto? Always be prepared. Not that I was ever a Boy Scout, mind you. No such organization, until quite recently. Plus, I’m a girl.” She gave another wheezing laugh, but it did nothing to disguise her penetrating, intelligent gaze.

Larry snickered and nudged Jesse’s leg with his muzzle before sharing his words with the group. “I guess, if you are as old as this lovely witch is, any organization that’s ‘only’ 100-something years old is still relatively new. Oh, and I’m pretty sure the Boy Scouts allow girls now, but they may have an upper age requirement.” Larry coughed politely. “Pretty sure, ma’am, that you exceed that by, uh, a few centuries.”

A wave of snorts, smothered coughs, and snickers issued from the witches seated around the table. Jesse could tell that even Cerri was fighting a smile. She realized Larry had shared his words with the group to break the tension and reassure her she was making the right decision. She glanced down at her Familiar and mind-spoke her gratitude. “Thanks, mop-head. That actually helped.”

Jesse addressed Mary directly. “I apologize for my smart-mouthed Familiar. He’s got no class. I’ll take that truth brew now if you please.”

Mary nodded acceptance of Jesse’s words. She rummaged in her huge handbag, muttering softly to herself. Finally, she exclaimed in success. “Ah-ha! I knew it was in here. Can never find anything in this benighted bag.” She drew out a small blue bottle and placed it triumphantly on the table. Thick liquid within swirled sluggishly. The bottle fell onto its side, then rolled down the table to where Jesse stood, where it righted itself, seemingly of its own accord.

Swallowing in anticipation of the horrible taste, Jesse grabbed the bottle, thumbed off the cork stopper, and gulped the viscous brew down. Her mouth curved in an involuntary grin. “Hey, that tasted pretty good! A whole hell of a lot better than I thought it would. Most brews taste like old socks. Not that I’d actually know what old socks taste like. Honest.”

Realizing she was rambling, Jesse shut her mouth with a snap, then ventured a query. “Umm, is the truth serum already working? It is ... right?”

Mary’s eyes twinkled with delight. “No, Jesse, the brew takes a few minutes to activate. But thank you for the compliment about the truth spell’s pleasant taste. As your Familiar so aptly pointed out, I’m, ah, a little old. What kind of centuries-old Water witch would I be if I couldn’t concoct a brew that tasted pleasant?”

While Mary spoke, Jesse’s stomach fizzed and gurgled. A creeping numbness spread out from her middle until it filled her whole body. Lightheaded and slightly dizzy, she had to suppress an urge to panic. Instead, she allowed her body to fold awkwardly into the chair at her back. “Okay ... pretty sure the truth potion is working now, folks. Ask away.”

* * *

The truth finding didn’t take long. Afterwards, Jesse couldn’t clearly remember either the questions the witches asked, or her answers. She only knew she spoke from the heart; not only because she had no choice, but because she realized she wanted this group of witches to believe in her honorable intentions.

Cerri ended the questioning with a final query. “Do you have any questions of us, Jesse? We have asked our fill, and you have answered honestly. I find your heart to be pure and of good intent. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Larry snorted under the table. “Not like Jesse had any choice in the answering honestly part.”

Jesse gave Larry a none-to-gentle nudge with her foot. “Shut up, knucklehead. You were the one who encouraged me to take the damned truth brew.”

“Listen, you old crone—”

A wave of relieved laughter interrupted Larry’s riposte.

Someone asked, “Do you two always argue like an old married couple?”

The tension dissipated and even Cerri joined in the merriment enough to allow a small smile to curve her lips. Once the laughter died down, she addressed the group. “Alright, everyone. Now that’s out of the way, there’s no need to guard our words. We are all on the same page and have the same goal ... discover what evil is afoot here and divert disaster.” She asked Risa to resume her report. “Please finish your tale. Then we will make some plans.”

* * *

Risa nodded once. She took a deep breath, then continued. “The thing is, Michael isn’t really interested in inheriting his grandfather’s crime syndicate at all. Instead, he wants to create his own crime family that is, quite literally, out of this world. The mage told me Michael has only been fighting the battle of the grandsons to divert attention from his true plans. He’s gathered a cadre of criminals from amongst the wider Giotti crime family and built his own shadow family. He knows he can’t take on his grandfather anytime soon. The man’s too strong, and ruthless enough to have Michael killed if he tries anything. So—and the mage was a little unclear on the next bit—somehow, Michael found out about the magical Universum buried and all but forgotten in the magical scrapyard practically on his doorstep.”

The room buzzed with the high level of suspense Risa had created with her words.

“Out with it, Risa.” Cerri encouraged her lieutenant to finish the story.

“Yes ma’am. The mage was perfectly clear on the next bit. Michael plans to steal the Universum and activate it. He wants to take his loyal followers and move his new criminal enterprise to the stars, leaving the earth, indeed this whole galaxy, in the dust. Quite literally.”

Silence reigned for a moment, then pandemonium broke out, with the witches all talking over each other in confusion and horror.

“QUIET!” Cerri’s voice rang with power. Once silence again blanketed the table, Cerri spoke in a more moderated tone, her gaze intent on Risa. “Did the mage explain exactly how Michael plans to get over the rather big hurdle that activating the Universum will destroy the earth in a matter of seconds? There isn’t time to use the Universum to travel outside the galaxy before it destroys the earth—and everyone on it, including the person who activates it.”

Risa’s mouth curved in a self-deprecating smile. “The mage wasn’t able to tell me that information, but I’m sure he would have if he knew. He said he’d heard rumors of a powerful supernatural, in league with Michael, who knows of a way to delay the destruction for several crucial seconds. Enough time to use the machine to transport Michael and his goons to wherever in the mega-verse his tiny heart desires.”

“BINGO!” A familiar voice penetrated the magical bubble around the table. Apparently, Tony the pompom man thought he had a winning hand. Again.

The group of witches around the table eyed each other with concern and determination. They’d have to take quick and decisive action to make sure the magical mobster and his co-conspirators didn’t have the winning hand in this war, or all would be lost.