Thrift Store Trolls, page 16
part #1 of Flea Market Magic Series
Erica nodded, her face unreadable, but the tension in her features and shoulders eased.
I edged toward the doorway and Thorn followed. “Thanks again, Erica. I really appreciated your help.”
“Not a problem,” she replied, her voice not as bubbly as her face.
“See you around,” Thorn added.
“Sure.”
I closed the door and hurried out of there as fast as possible.
In the parking lot, Thorn said, “What happened back there?”
I kept going, trying to add distance between myself and Erica. Thorn grabbed my elbow. “Hey, slow down.”
“Couldn’t you see?” I hissed, trying to tug him toward my Nissan.
“See what?”
“Why did you come here? I know you wanted to make sure I was well, but I was hoping this time—out of all the times you magically showed up—that this was the one place you wouldn’t appear.”
Thorn’s hazel eyes bore into me, then realization flashed in his eyes. He lowered his head.
“She’s still hurting,” I said softly. “And I couldn’t let you fawn over me in front of her.”
“This might sound cruel, but she needs to get used to you and I being together.”
That was the alpha in him talking.
I rested my hand over his heart while I held the food with the other. He cupped his hand over mine.
I said, “Getting used to seeing the one you love with someone else doesn’t mean the longing goes away. I know this from experience.”
He drew in a deep breath.
I tugged his hand. “Take me home before I eat the ribs and the Tupperware.”
Chapter 22
The minute I got home, I wanted to take off these awful clothes and slide into a fresh pencil skirt and blouse. My wardrobe was probably reaching for me from miles away. Just as luck would have it, Aggie had finished her interview at Barney’s and arrived at the house at the same time.
“What are you wearing?” she blurted. “You’re one step away from a Jersey Shore reunion.”
I flipped her off and left my keys on the kitchen table. “How did you get here?”
She sighed. “Will gave me a ride.”
“How’s he doing?” I shrugged off the pink jacket from hell.
Aggie’s nose twitched, and she eyed the containers of ribs on the table. “Where did you get that? It smells delish.”
Way to change the subject, Aggie McClure.
As I left the kitchen, I tossed words over my shoulder, “You can have half of mine. Half!”
While Aggie and Thorn scampered to grab their plates and scarf down their chow, I was forced to do gymnastics to tumble out of my borrowed bodysuit. A disturbing, wiggle-like dance wrenched off the too-tight Juicy jogger pants, and soon enough, the offensive pink pile lay on my dresser. When I had the time, I’d get the clothes washed and delivered to the owner.
My plate of food and a glass of ice water waited for me in the kitchen. I sat down to stuff my face. Of course, Aggie and Thorn cleared their plates quickly, but Aggie stared at my serving. I dug in to claim my kill.
My mate gazed out the kitchen window to the forest beyond the cottage. Did he sense any danger?
“Thorn said you were attacked at Huldrefolk Collectibles,” Aggie said. “How bad was it?”
Between bites of beef from the ribs, which actually was pretty tasty, I explained what happened up to the point where Erica offered me a ride to her house.
“Jeez,” she said. “That basilisk bastard doesn’t quit, does he?”
“He’s definitely persistent,” I admitted. “And he’s getting bolder, too. Usually, he leaves his shit outside for folks to discover, but this time, he planted one inside of the troll mart.”
“Which means someone told him you were working there,” Aggie said with a snort.
“But who knew I had to work at there?” I murmured.
“Every employee at The Bends,” Aggie said. “You don’t think the culprit could be one of your co-workers, do you?”
“Or someone’s been following me around and waiting for the right opportunity to strike,” I replied.
“The minion,” Thorn and Aggie said at the same.
I nodded and stuffed another delicious bite into my mouth. Erica hadn’t bought these ribs from Costco—the barbecue sauce was flavorful and the meat fell off the bone as if she’d slow-cooked the food all day. The others had licked their plates clean. Literally.
“We need to stop this helper and the Basilisk King,” I said, not bothering to stop eating. “If one basilisk can poison a werewolf and knock us down on our asses, I can’t imagine what they could do to humans.”
Aggie said, “I don’t like the idea of waiting until this Basilisk Butthead sets another trap for Nat or even Grandma. Why don’t we gather the pack and hunt down his crazy ass?”
I frowned. “We’d be hunting in circles. We’re better off setting a trap of our own.”
She appeared thoughtful. “Back at your parents’ place on Friday, I wondered if your grandma was doing that very thing.”
Now that got my attention. I hadn’t considered that possibility.
“What do you mean?” I wondered.
“When I brought her a plate of food, she mentioned how she needed all her strength for the struggles to come.” Aggie’s forehead scrunched. “At the time I laughed it off—you know—there’d always be someone around to keep an eye on her, but what if she planned to face him alone?”
I swallowed my food with a gulp of ice water. “Yeah, Grandma does have an independent streak. I’d like two guards on her instead of one from now on.”
“I agree,” Aggie grumbled. “Who’s on guard duty right now? I can take over until the morning.”
Thorn turned to us. “Rex took over my shift around lunchtime.”
Hearing his name made the beef in my stomach feel like lead.
Aggie shook her head in disgust. “Once you’re done eating, Nat, you and I will send him on his merry way.”
I snorted. “If only there was a Pied Piper to draw out jerks like him from the pack.”
Aggie laughed, and I welcomed the throaty sound. “They’d have to use a dog whistle.”
The sunset barely clung to the horizon as Aggie and I pulled up to my parents’ home.
The new moon hid behind the cloud cover, which obscured the brighter celestial bodies. Without the tug of the moon, I felt quite human tonight. The night creatures still sounded vibrant to my ear, but my senses were noticeably dulled. The night blooms were less fragrant and chirps from the crickets less intense.
I trudged up to the house. Time to focus on what needed to be done.
“Only Aunt Olga’s car is out front,” I snapped. “Where’s Rex?”
“Maybe your aunt sent him home.” Aggie paused right outside the door. “I don’t hear anyone moving inside.”
I sucked in a deep breath and listened. She was right. By now, I should hear someone moving around. Mom mentioned having to volunteer at church and Dad had to work, but someone should be here.
The goblin blade in my tote bag twitched and I retrieved it. To my dismay, it transformed into a lance.
Aggie didn’t wait and tried to open the front door. “It’s locked,” she whispered.
I produced a key, and she used it to open the door.
“Is it a good or a bad sign you’re holding a lance?” Aggie whispered.
“Bad. Very bad.”
The foyer was dark. The only light illuminating the space came from above: the light over the staircase leading to the next floor. Aggie peered into the living room to the right. No lights on there either. The TVs were off—usually someone left at least one on for the late-night TV watchers.
I peered to the left into the dining room. No signs of disturbance.
I opened my mouth to call for my family, but Aggie grabbed my hand and squeezed.
No sound, her gesture conveyed.
Suddenly, a thud from the kitchen drew our attention. It was the basement door.
“Something is propped against the door,” Aggie whispered.
We hurried double time through the living room into the kitchen. The faint scent of ozone made my heartbeat thump in time with a rabbit’s.
Someone had used Old Magic here.
Even in the murky darkness, I could tell the whole kitchen was trashed. A plate with cold food sat on the kitchen island while cutlery and glass were scattered across the floor. Two cabinet doors barely hung on their hinges while the light over the kitchen table was precariously close to falling onto the floor.
Something rustled on the other side of the island, but what alarmed us further was another frightening sight: the door to the backyard was open.
And a trunk sat right outside the door.
A moan drew our attention back to the kitchen. Aunt Olga lay on the floor on the opposite side of the island.
“Oh, my God!” I crouched in front of her.
Bloody cuts covered her whole body, and she shook as if a fever overtook her. It was the basilisk poison. She needed help right away.
The basement door shook again, and Aggie braced herself against the fridge holding the door shut. “Shit, that’s a strong fucker.”
Aunt Olga shivered and blinked before she focused on me. “Mama?” she murmured. “Where’s Mama?”
From the other side of the room, Aggie propped her phone up with her shoulder while she held the door. “We got a problem here, Thorn. We got one of those things in the basement and Aunt Olga is hurt.”
I caught his curse through the phone.
“We still need to find Grandma,” Aggie added.
I stroked the side of my aunt’s face. “I’ll find her,” I said softly in Russian. “We need to get you cleaned up before the poison hurts you further.”
I turned to Aggie. “She needs to be bathed or the poison will slowly kill her.”
“I’ll guard her. You search the house,” Aggie ordered. “Another one of those things might have Grandma. Help is coming.”
I headed toward the living room again but paused. The odor of ozone led out of the house. Not in. I returned to the back door.
Yes, the scent was stronger here. I could imagine Grandma’s soft footsteps as she reached this doorway and walked over to the open trunk. Her tiny footprints were clear in the soft grass.
The lance vibrated in my hand. At the other end of the yard, another trunk materialized. My breath got caught in my throat.
The path to the Basilisk King.
“Do you see her?” Aggie called to me.
“No, but I know how to find her.”
Aggie groaned as the door shook harder. The beige steamer trunk inched backward until it hit the wooden fence.
Come hither, wolf, it taunted.
I took a step back.
Wait for Thorn, Nat.
Wait for the cavalry.
The trunk dematerialized as if someone was in the process of changing the channel.
Every time Thorn told me that I leapt before I looked ran through my head. My time to make a decision was running out. Thoughts of Grandma crossed my mind, and rage built in my stomach. If that bastard hurt her, I’d unleash the power of a thousand full moons on his ass.
I marched up to the trunk, knowing it would be empty. With a running start, I darted over the fence into the next yard. Another trunk waited for me. Then many more spaced farther apart.
The Basilisk King drew me farther south into Double Trouble State Park.
Twilight turned the sky from dark purple to midnight-black. Through the thick trees, I could barely make out the sky. The goblin blade quivered in my hand, giving me strength for what was to come. Stomping through the woods in low heels and a pencil skirt didn’t give me the best mobility, but the wolf within me yipped with eagerness at the prospect of a hunt. I had to find Grandma before the Basilisk King hurt her. I picked up my pace into a run.
The trail of trunks grew farther apart, but my nose tugged me where I needed to go. With each step the sulfurous scent raced through my nostrils and left a foul aftertaste in my mouth.
I briefly glanced back, but no one chased after me. I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes were gone already, long enough for Thorn to reach the house with other pack members to help Aggie take down the basilisk in the basement.
As I ventured further into Double Trouble, past the cranberry bogs and Cedar Creek, the trunks were harder to find, but the trail was there. He wanted me to find and confront him. Well, if he wanted to get a taste of me, his first sample would be from my fist down his throat.
Familiar landmarks popped up. The pack hunted here during the full moon, but with the waning moon barely perceptible in the sky, only the shadows illuminated any dangers.
Suddenly, the urge to hide fell over me.
Something was close.
My enemy was near.
The goblin blade shuddered and elongated. I backed up until my spine pressed against a tree, the sturdiness of its trunk giving me strength. I widened my stance as the blade curved into a form I’d only seen in books: an Egyptian scimitar. My fingers rubbed the hieroglyphs on the hilt as the blade radiated a harsh, scarlet glow.
I inhaled to prepare myself for what was to come. Hadn’t I fought scarier foes with this weapon?
And hadn’t I been hurt in the process?
I took a tentative step forward. The night sounds ceased. Maybe every bird, bat, and bug held their breath like me.
The glow on the blade deepened from scarlet to the color of blood. Fire danced at the tip, illuminating the forest before me. I walked along the creek, leaping onto rocks and fallen trees to avoid the mud.
One step at a time, Nat.
When I came to a fork where the creek separated to a lake, I spied someone sitting on another felled tree. Two heaps of marked stones sat between him. Altars of worship for a fool. A circle of five mud-brown steamer trunks surrounded him and Grandma lay on the ground before him. Her mouth was covered with duct tape and her hands tied behind her back. With relief, I saw her breathing but barely. Dark bruises marred the side of her face.
I crept closer, hoping I wasn’t seen, but my olive-skinned adversary’s head turned my way. There went sneaking up on him.
With a snarl, I advanced on him. Heat from the goblin blade warmed my face and drove me harder. The closer I got, the easier I could make out the sharp angles of his face. The deep set of his black eyes and the multi-colored robe he wore. My foe looked like he stepped off the set of an epic Conan the Barbarian movie.
The Basilisk King’s hand lifted, and I froze while he spoke words I didn’t recognize in a low voice. When I remained silent, he tried again in a tongue I understood, Old Russian.
“You are definitely worth the wait,” he said smoothly with his hands planted on his knees. “The old woman is a morsel, but you’re a banquet worthy of a god.”
I hoped he’d choked on me. “Any chance you want to turn around and go about your business? Maybe eat at Burger King like regular people?”
Confusion then anger flashed on his face. “What nonsense do you speak? Shut your mouth and kneel before me!”
Superman didn’t kneel before General Zod, and I wasn’t complying either. I took four more steps when every trunk latch clicked and the lids opened.
“Do you think I’d make it that easy, Old Magic Mage?” he sneered.
“Let her go, or I’ll kill you,” I growled.
“You’ll kill me?” He laughed. “I’ve seen empires toppled and great leaders sacrifice their children to me.”
“Why don’t we test your mortality then?” I pointed the blade in his direction.
From the nearest trunk, a four-finger claw edged out. The creature squawked and its feathers rustled—as another basilisk from the other side of the circle emerged.
Shit. This wasn’t good.
“I can summon them, and I can make them go away,” he said evenly as if we were negotiating the price of a charmed waffle iron at The Bends. “You can suffer or accept your fate.”
I smirked as the rage bubbling in my chest swelled. I let the fury feed me for what was to come. He wanted more than worship—he wanted to consume me before moving on to his next victim. I was nothing more than lunch to him. I refused to let anyone, even this son-of-a-bitch, make me feel like I was nothing ever again.
“My friends tell me I’m stubborn. Guess what? They’re right.” I raced hard at the first trunk and swung the blade through the middle. A thunderclap slapped my ears as the trunk and basilisk were cut in half. Sparks danced in the air, and the singed wood glowed bright.
With a flick of the Basilisk King’s hands, the four other basilisks were unleashed. They converged on me at once, beaks opened wide, claws extended in my direction. They circled me like a pack on the hunt.
Run, the wolf in me warned. Escape before you’ve sealed your doom.
But there was no running this time.
Two basilisks surged forward, their wings flapping. I stabbed at one, but the other on my right latched onto my arm. Raw pain raced up to my shoulder, and I howled. The discomfort from my last fight was too recent, but I couldn’t let it deter me.
Using the fiery blade, I set the first attacker on fire and the basilisk retreated in flames, bounding in a smoky flurry until it hit the water. The second basilisk knocked me over and the others swept in for the kill.
Was this the end?
I scrambled in the throes of the mob, growling and swinging, trying to escape at any opportunity. Every bite and scratch held me down until I drowned in a bottomless well of pain. Blood wet my arms and legs, saturating my clothes. The fire to fight within me was dying. I had to act.
Aren’t some prices worth paying?
I whispered five words. A sting hit my gut and blossomed into an all-encompassing agony I’d never experienced before, as if a piece of my body were sliced out in exchange for this moment of power. The basilisks around me burst into flames. They retreated and swooped into their trunks and the lids slammed shut.
Yet the spot where the Basilisk King had sat was empty.
