Tony did a good job keeping my mom and I distracted while we waited for his brother to return. He told amusing stories about the family, mostly centered on embarrassing situations involving his little brothers. I did my best not to look like I was waiting to be dismissed from jury duty.

“...so Guapo grabs this entire five-pound ham,” Tony was saying, gesturing with his hands to mimic the events of the story. “Scared out of his mind he’s going to get yelled at for ruining so much food, and hides it under the sink.”

My mom was covering her mouth with her hand, amusement in her eyes. “No!”

“Yes!” Tony said solemnly. “He then grabs his savings, rides his bike to the Ralph’s, buys a replacement ham, and manages to get it into the fridge right before Mom and Abuela get home. He’s so relieved he didn’t get caught that he forgets about the ham he hid under the sink. In the middle of summer. Before we had Central Air.”

“Oh no!” My mom said, her shoulder shaking with laughter. “How long was it there?”

“Two weeks,” Tony said, shaking his head. “He had wrapped it in plastic grocery bags which stopped the smell from spreading too much. That was until my mom was looking for something under the sink and shifted it, spilling five pounds of awfulness everywhere.”

The conversation continued for a bit until Tony had to take a call. He excused himself and stepped out into the driveway to take it, leaving me alone with my mom. She was sitting with a somewhat prim air on one end of the sofa that faced the entertainment center, while I occupied the love seat to her right. In front of us was a glass coffee table with a few drinks we had taken from the party.

Alice’s living room was slightly more modern than her mother’s house but much less lived-in. Less cared for. The walls were unadorned. The furniture was functional. The gray carpet was just slightly darker than the whitewashed walls. The one thing that stood out was the new end table that was near the front door, where Alice put her keys and purse.

It made me curious to see her bedroom, to see if the… hand-me-down feel of the place was present there. Not enough to actually get up and go see, of course. That felt like it would be an invasion of privacy.

“Liam..?”

I turned my attention back to my mother, her earlier good mood having left with Tony. I could see the worry eating away at her like a bead of molten metal dropped in Styrofoam. “Yeah?” I asked, hiding my own worry for her benefit.

“Why are they calling you Colm?” She asked.

Shit. I had thought any mentions of my name had happened out of earshot. Someone must have been talking about me in earshot while I had been doing the tracking spells. I slumped back in my chair and stopped myself from running a hand through my hair. It felt gross with the gloves on. The silence stretched as I debated with myself how much to tell her.

“Because that’s my name,” I said at last. “I—had it changed.”

My voice caught on that last bit. My name change hadn’t been legal, but it had been thorough. At least, that’s what the person who I paid a very, very large sum of money to had said. They had claimed that unless the full power of a major investigative body took a look at it, it should hold up to most scrutiny.

My mom’s eyes began to water. “Why?”

“Because I hate him,” I said after a moment. I opened my mouth to continue, but nothing came out.

“L—Liam, I know you—“ she began.

“Don’t,” I interrupted. “Don’t defend him. Don’t try and patch things up. I’m going to find Conner, I’m going to get him on his own two feet, I’m going to relocate him somewhere far, far away from Jack.” I had never called my father by his first name before, as I had known the old cuss would see it as disrespectful. It felt liberating. “And if I have my way, we will never see him again.

“How often we see you will largely depend on if you’re still with him,” I said with a sigh.

My mother shook with unshed tears, looking at me like she wanted to say something but was afraid of my reaction. I leaned forward and patted her knee, hopefully taking the sting out of my words.

“None of that really matters right now,” I said. “We can hash this all out when Conner is safe, alright?”

My mom nodded shakily, pulling a hanky from her pocket and dabbing her eyes.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I fell into a pensive silence, going over my options. It took me a bit to realize that I’m going about this entirely wrong. I have solved multiple cold cases. I just might be able to find a missing person.

“Grab your things,” I said as I stood. “We’re going to Conner’s apartment. You know the address?”

She nodded. “But what about the—the thing?”

“I’ll have him meet us there,” I said, heading for the backyard.

I poked my head out the sliding glass door, seeing Alice on her phone. “Hey, I’m going to check out Conner’s apartment. Can you tell your brother to meet us there? Also, can you come and watch my back?”

“Yes, and of course,” she said, quickly putting her phone to her ear and standing. She split off down the hall to what I assumed was her bedroom. I waited for my mom to get ready before heading outside.

We met Tony in the driveway, my mom clutching her phone to her chest, likely keeping the address I had requested to hand. Tony saw us, noticed the change in my bearing, and ended his call.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“Going to check out my brother’s apartment,” I said. “I have some experience in investigation and if I have to sit still for one more minute I’m going to start setting things on fire.”

Given that I could start fires with my mind, maybe I should have said… not that.

Tony took it in stride, however. “I get it, man. I’ll have Guapo meet you there. You have the address?”

“I can forward it,” Alice said, emerging from the house sporting some jewelry that seemed familiar. Specifically the chain “belt” she wore that I’ve seen her shoot lightning out of when held in her hands.

I was going to comment on the chain being overkill, but given that I was going to be grabbing out of the trunk of my car—it felt a little hypocritical. I held out my hand for Tony to shake.

“It was good meeting you Tony,” I said once he gripped my hand. “Sorry about…” I gestured vaguely with my other hand. “All this.”

He pulled me into an embrace, slapping my back affectionately before releasing me. I was so surprised by the gesture I had nearly done something violent but had stopped myself before I could more than tense up. “Don’t worry about it man,” he said. “Family is important. You need anything, you let me know. You got it?”

I nodded shakily, feeling awkward. “Thanks,” I said. The word felt insufficient, but it was all I could manage under the mounting anxiety of having been touched without warning. With a final nod, I started across the street to my car.

Alice caught up to me. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I said, glancing behind me to see Tony back on the phone. “Just caught me off guard.”

Because of my upbringing, being touched when I wasn’t expecting it causes me to flinch. It’s not nearly as bad as it was—turns out, being forced into hand-to-hand combat with magical pirates and extradimensional entities does a lot to make one confront being touched without permission. But every now and again I get a flash of the old phobia and it rattles me more than expected.

I went and turned on my car to get the AC going, while also popping open the trunk before I helped my mom into the passenger seat.

“Oh, no, I can sit in the back. Alice is so tall, she needs the legroom,” my mother said.

“She’s also just as polite as you, and would think worse of me if I let my mom ride in the back,” I said. Sybille glanced at Alice, who nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” Mom said, finally setting her weight in the chair. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Alice said.

“I gotta grab a few things from the trunk,” I said as I closed the door.

I went over and opened the trunk all the way. Inside was a fairly small and trash-filled space, with the spare tire and jack thrown in without a care for placement. Alice gave me a judging look.

“Okay, this works better than I thought,” I said with a smirk, before shoving aside the wheel, grabbing an up-to-now hidden handle, and lifting up the false bottom. The trash, tire, and jack all stayed attached to the false bottom as I move it out and leaned it against the left tail light. With the cover off, the enchantment deactivated.

“Oh—oh wow, that’s subtle,” Alice said appreciatively. “How does it wor—“

Her voice cut off as she caught sight of what was hiding in the false bottom of the car. One of the things I love about the 1992 Honda Accord was that it has a deceptively large trunk space, especially with a few after-market modifications. Having to disguise the hidden compartment with the trash-covered false bottom meant I had to put my groceries in the back seat, but it was a small price to pay for having a secret arsenal to hand.

In the car was an M4A1, the standard assault rifle of the US Armed Forces, and an MP5 Navy, five loaded magazines for each. Below them were two matte black 1911 pistols, also with five loaded magazines. Lining the left wall were three grenades in their own protective case. In a similar, larger case on the right wall just above the wheel well was a 40mm breech-loading grenade launcher, the same kind that was used in Terminator 2.

The rifle, submachine gun, and pistols took up the top half of the trunk. The bottom half was reserved for one pistol—a Mk VI Webley—and a large, gray case made out of a composite material about the dimensions of a suitcase.

“Jesus Christ, Colm,” Alice muttered.

“You only need to get attacked by pirates once before you think you were a little unprepared,” I said, picking up the Webley and the in waistband holster next to it. The gun leaped into my hand when it got about three inches close, which made Alice back up a step.

“That wasn’t you,” she said.

“Nope,” I replied. “This one’s a mean fuck, and he’s always hoping to be of service.”

I slipped the gun into the holster, then the holster into my pants just over my appendix. I grabbed two speed loaders and dropped them into my right pocket.

“You brought an arsenal to a party,” Alice said with a frown.

“Technically,” I said, making sure the weapons were all still in their housing before replacing the false cover. “I bring an arsenal everywhere.” I shut the trunk. “Don’t think you’re special.”

She snorted. “Just don’t let my abuela catch you. She hates guns.”

I gestured to the back seat behind my mom. “Better sit on that side,” I said. “If I move my chair forward even a little bit I won’t be able to get in the car.”

Once we were all seated, I put the car in gear. I did my best to drive calmly, despite all the nervous energy running through me. My mind kept supplying me with grisly horror stories from the cold case podcasts I listen to, putting Conner in the middle of them.

Hold on, buddy.