Don't Hex with Texas (5 page)

“It’s because this town is so incredibly dull that you have to imagine things to find any excitement at all. If my dad had to conform to every cultural stereotype and run a motel, why couldn’t it at least have been one in a real city? We could have been near Six Flags. Or maybe the Alamo.” Nita waved her book at me. “It’s no fair! Why can’t I have this kind of life—having cosmos at a bar after work with my friends and going on lots of hot dates with successful men? And to think, you were there and you left it behind!”

“It’s not quite the way it seems in books.”

“So you didn’t go out with your friends and you didn’t go on dates?”

“Well, yeah, I guess I did. But it wasn’t as fun as it sounds in books. I got set up on a lot of blind dates that never went well. Some of them were real disasters.”

“You know what they say, you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you meet your prince.”

I shuddered. “That’s not as effective as you’d think,” I muttered under my breath.

“What’s that?”

“I mean, quantity doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll ever find quality.” Plus, men who’d been turned into frogs tended to have some lingering issues once you broke the spell and turned them back into men.

“It still sounds better to me than spending my life sitting behind this desk. Is one date too much to ask for?”

“You’ve never been on a date?”

“Oh, come on Katie, you were there in high school.”

“Yeah, but surely since then?”

“Okay, maybe one or two in college when my parents didn’t know. But nothing since then. Who would I date around here?”

“Steve Grant is apparently still single.”

She laughed out loud. “Oh, good one! He’s exactly my type!” Once she got herself under control she said, “Well, if you aren’t willing to run away to the city with me, maybe we can take a trip for a couple of days and do some girl stuff like go shopping and have drinks and flirt and all that. What do you say?”

“I say it sounds like fun. I just have a few family things I want to straighten out first.”

“I heard about your mom’s fainting spell. Is she okay?”

News really did travel fast in this town. “Yeah, the doctor said she’s probably fine. We’re keeping an eye on her for a while, just in case.”

“Okay, then I’ll start angling for a couple of days off, and then we can hit the city! What do you think, Dallas or Austin? Dallas has the shopping—not that I can afford much, but it would be fun to look—and Austin has the nightlife. I know, I’ll look it up in the tourist guides and see what looks good.”

And she was off. This was a plan she might actually carry out, I thought as I noticed the way her eyes shone. I knew how stifled I felt around here and could only imagine what life must be like for her. “Let me know what you decide, and I’ll try to swing some time off myself.”

I heard a car drive up in front of the office and whirled to look. It was a relatively new, bland sedan that was probably a rental. My heart started racing. Maybe he’d stopped to secure accommodations and then freshen up before meeting me at the store to get the scoop, and this was the only motel in town. The only other lodgings were in a bed-and-breakfast in an old mansion near the square. Unfortunately for both Nita and me, the man who got out of the car was neither young and Indian nor Owen. He was just another middle-aged traveling salesman type who must have pissed off someone in his company to get assigned this cruddy territory.

I shook my head at my own silliness. Why was I still getting excited to see a rental car when I was fairly certain it wasn’t going to be Owen? Deep down inside, I supposed I still hoped that he’d insist on being the one to come investigate because he wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see him. Nita didn’t have a monopoly on romantic fantasies, it appeared.

While she checked the salesman in, I arranged our lunches on the desk behind the counter, then picked up one of the many magazines she kept in a nearby basket and flipped through it. It was one of those regional tourist magazines they put in hotel rooms, with a few articles about local attractions, a calendar of events, and a lot of ads. The articles were the same in almost every issue, so I went straight to the ads, hoping to find something interesting to do in there. What I saw was more than interesting. It was downright weird.

On the page full of ads for area private schools, there was one that said, “Can you read this?” Since I could, I kept reading.

If you’re one of the few, select people who can read this ad, you may have special abilities! With the right training to develop your natural talents, fame and fortune are practically inevitable!

It reminded me of those ads that said if you could draw a turtle cartoon, you could get training to illustrate children’s books. Except this ad didn’t ask for anything other than the ability to read it. I leaned closer to the page so my necklace practically touched it, and then I felt the faint vibration from a very weak spell. The ability they were looking for was magic, I was sure. The ad must have been veiled so that only people with magic powers—or the complete lack thereof—could read it. I had a feeling I knew where our local wizard must have come from. Someone around here was training people to use magic.

Nita sent the customer off on his way to his room, then we settled down for lunch. I left the magazine open on the desk, the ad clearly visible. “What do you think of that?” I asked, pointing in the general direction of the ad in question.

She leaned over and squinted at the page. “‘Miss Rochester’s Academy for Young Ladies,’” she read. “‘Training girls in social deportment for a refined way of life.’ You have got to be kidding. I am so glad my mom never saw anything like this when I was in high school. If she thought she could have shipped me off to a private school to teach me to be demure, she would have.”

If Nita couldn’t see it, the ad must have been veiled, and this also meant that Nita was neither magical nor magically immune. “It sounds kind of Victorian, doesn’t it?” I said. I finished my lunch, then made excuses about getting back to the store. “Mind if I take this?” I asked, picking up the magazine.

“Why? You think you need to learn social graces?”

“No, there’s an article I thought Teddy would be interested in.”

“Sure, take it,” she said with a wave. “I get a stack of them every month. The idea is to give them away.”

Once I got into investigation mode, it was hard to stop myself, so on my way back to the store, I detoured by the courthouse square to see if anything was going on. It appeared to be the kind of day that put the “sleepy” into “sleepy little town.” Not much of anything was stirring, especially not a robed wizard. The statues remained reassuringly still.

Then I took another look at the roof. There were gargoyles on part of the courthouse, but I didn’t recall ever seeing any on this side. I tensed as a gargoyle unfurled its wings and soared down to ground level. That was certainly something I’d never seen the courthouse gargoyles do. It was, however, something I’d seen gargoyles do often enough in New York, particularly this one.

“Sam!” I cried out and ran to hug him. I had to bend a little because gargoyles aren’t generally that big, and he folded his wings around me in a hug. I realized then that I’d never touched him before. He had an odd texture, simultaneously rocky and leathery. “I’m glad they sent you,” I said when we broke apart.

“Hey, wouldn’t have missed it for the world, doll. Besides, who’d you expect them to send other than their top gumshoe?”

“I’m glad they sent the best.”

“What appears to be the deal?”

I explained quickly about the things Mom had seen and what I’d observed. When I finished, Sam nodded. “Okay, looks like I’ll be staking out the square here for a while, get an idea what the perp’s up to, and then I can figure out what to do about it.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ve also found something I want to check out.” I told him about the magazine ad.

He made a whistling sound, like the wind blowing across the top of a Coke bottle. “That’s not good. You think that’s what our local wizard is up to?”

“Could be. There’s a Web address, so I’ll go look it up, and I’ll keep you posted on what I find. Want me to stop by on any particular schedule?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m officially on the case, so you can stand down. I’ll find you if I need you. This place ain’t a tenth the size of Manhattan, and I can find you there.” Actually, the incorporated landmass of the town wasn’t too much smaller than Manhattan Island, but I knew what he meant.

“Okay, then. Let me know if you need anything. Oh, and remember that you might have to be careful. People are more likely to notice little oddities and ask about them here than they are in New York. News spreads fast. Plus, my mom’s immune, and I think my grandmother might be, too. I have other relatives around, so there’s no telling how far that trait spreads.” It would be ironic if this town turned out to be the nonmagical capital of the world from being the home of more immunes than any other place. That would actually explain a lot about how boring the place was.

“Got it. Now shoo so I can get on with my stakeout.”

Once I got back to the store, it took me awhile before I had time to look up the magic school. We were busy with customers, and then even when the afternoon rush died down, I kept having family members pop into my office. They finally got busy again with their own work, and I pulled the folded-up magazine out of my bag, then typed the Web address into my browser.

It took the site forever to load, which made me wonder how much bandwidth magic required. The initial page looked a lot like the ad, but instead of the contact info in the ad, there was a button to click on if you could see the ad and wanted to know more. I clicked on it, then waited for the next page to load.

When it came up, the Spellworks logo was at the top of the page. My stomach did a backflip before tying itself into a square knot. That company was our enemy, and that meant Phelan Idris was behind whatever was going on in town.

I
had to hold my breath while I read so I could concentrate, and moving my computer’s mouse was difficult with my hands shaking. The Web page said that if you could read this site, you had magical powers—which wasn’t entirely accurate, as I very well knew, but I didn’t expect them to explain the concept of magical immunity in their initial “magic is real” paragraph. There had to be something else in the site to weed out people like me. It went on to describe all the benefits of having magical powers, including the usual stuff like wealth, influence over others, and making the world work the way you wanted it to. Of course, there was no mention of learning the proper context for using your power, but then a code of ethics wasn’t something I’d expect to see in a sales pitch, so I didn’t count the ethical lapse against Idris this time.

For an introductory fee of five hundred dollars and then a monthly fee of two hundred dollars, you could learn to use your powers. The site promised that within two months, you could start using magic to more than make up for the amount you spent on the lessons. Lessons would be taught online using streaming video, with message boards for interacting with the instructor and with other students. The rest was the usual “act now” stuff, including info on paying by credit card for automatic monthly payments.

I clicked around on the page, trying to find more information, but everything appeared to be password protected. Oddly, I didn’t see anything to click on in order to sign up for the classes. That must have been their trap to weed out immunes. The “sign up now” button was probably an illusion that I couldn’t see.

This was big. If Idris was out to teach people how to do magic his way, the world could be in a lot of trouble. On a whim, I tried Googling every phrase I could think of that might lead me to magic lessons, but I didn’t ever get the Spellworks site in the search results. At least it didn’t look like random people playing around on the Internet could stumble on the site. The question was, how widely were they advertising this? Was it just around here, and what was the purpose in teaching a bunch of amateurs to do petty parlor tricks?

When I’d wrapped up my work for the day, I headed straight to the courthouse to find Sam. I took a magazine stuffed with printouts from the Spellworks website and sat on a bench, trying to look like I was just casually sitting there, reading the magazine. Sam flew down from the roof to join me. “The perp must’ve heard of my reputation and took off,” he said with a grin on his grotesque face. “Not a single sight of ’im. And boy, is this town of yours slow, or what?”

“Tell me about it. Believe it or not, this is pretty exciting as things go around here. But I have something you need to see.” I pulled the pages out of my magazine to show to him. “It’s not quite what was on the website—maybe magic doesn’t come through on the printer—but I think you can get the idea. They’re recruiting new wizards. Can they do that? Are there really people out there who don’t know they have magical powers?”

He shrugged. “Hey, that’s not my area of expertise. I just do security, you know? But there’s gotta be someone out there who doesn’t know he’s really a wizard. We can’t catch ’em all. This definitely looks bigger than a single rogue wizard to me. It might be easier to put a stop to this here than in New York.”

“Why’s that? All our people and resources are in New York.”

“But there’s no power here. The magical lines are weak in these parts, which is why you don’t have a big magical community. Magical folk tend to settle around lines of power. We get a few of our big guns down here who are highly trained and who’ve got their own reserves of power, and fighting off the bad guys will be a snap. In New York, there’s enough power flying around to put everyone on a more even footing. We just need to figure out who our local wizard is, grab him, and then we can use him to draw Idris out.”

“Cool.”

“Hey, ain’t it funny that you headed down here to get away from all that, and then it comes to you anyway?”

“Yeah, it’s a real scream.” From what Sam had said, it didn’t sound like the specifics of my decision to leave had been widely broadcast. I may not have escaped from magic, but I had still separated myself from Owen so he wouldn’t be tempted to make the wrong choice in a showdown, so I figured I’d still accomplished something by leaving. “You’ll tell headquarters what’s going on?”

“Don’t worry, I got it under control.”

Before I could respond to him, someone called my name from across the courthouse grounds. I turned to see Nita waving at me. Then she ran full throttle toward me, so fast that Sam had to scramble to get off the bench before she plopped down on top of him. “What are you doing here?” she asked me.

I tried to keep my eyes from following Sam as he flew back to the courthouse roof. “Oh, you know, just hanging out.”

She raised an eyebrow. “At the courthouse?”

“The grounds are nice. It’s like a park. And my family isn’t here.”

“That would be the important part.”

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Mom sent me to the grocery store. It’s my day to get off ‘early.’” She formed air quotes with her fingers. “That means I get to go home at a normal hour after working a normal day, and Dad works the desk until Ramesh gets to start a little later on the overnight shift. This is practically a weekend for me.” She whirled a finger in the air in a halfhearted show of celebration. “Whoopie. Hey, I have an idea. We should do something tonight.”

I looked around at the sleepy town square, then spread my hands to indicate all that nothingness. “Like what?”

“We could eat out and go to a movie. It’s a Tom Cruise movie this week.”

“Eww.” I made a face. “I can’t stand him.” Besides, the last thing I wanted to do right now was look at a dark-haired, blue-eyed man who wasn’t Owen.

“Your lack of aesthetic sense is not my problem. He’s pretty as long as he keeps his mouth shut. And it’s not like we have a lot of options. There’s one movie screen in town, and that’s what’s showing. Otherwise, we could watch Bollywood musicals with my mom or crime dramas with your dad, or I guess we could find an empty motel room and watch HBO.”

We’d actually had some cool slumber parties doing that when we were kids, but the idea wasn’t as thrilling now as it had been back then. “Okay, you win. Dinner and a movie it is.” Plus, being out and about would help me spot any additional magical weirdness that might ensue. It was almost like I was getting to be part of the investigation.

Nita bounced off the bench. “Cool! Now we just have to get some groceries and take them home to Mom, and then I’m free.”

“I could wait here for you.” I wanted to talk to Sam some more, and the wizard seemed to be most active at this time of day.

She shook her head vigorously while she grabbed my arm and tugged me off the bench. “No, I need you with me so I can escape. If you’re with me already, Mom won’t be able to come up with an excuse for me to stay in.”

We picked up the groceries, then rode in Nita’s ancient Escort to the little house behind the motel where the Patels lived. Mrs. Patel greeted me with her usual combination of warmth and suspicion. I always got the feeling that she liked me but didn’t quite trust me not to get her daughter in trouble—never mind that it was almost always the other way around. Moving a mile a minute, Nita dashed through the kitchen, putting away the groceries she’d bought and chattering nonstop about our plans so that her mother couldn’t get a word in edgewise to object. When we were back outside in the car, I was out of breath just from watching her performance.

The café on the town square was practically full when we got there—not that there were too many tables to begin with. Dean and Sherri were there, seated front and center. I gave them a wave as we headed to our own table but didn’t stop to talk. “I still can’t believe he married her,” Nita said when we sat down. “He was so hot, he could have had anyone.”

“Nita, he’s my brother.”

“So? He’s still hot, and I’m not related to him. Okay, so he’s a bit of a jerk, and I could have thrown myself at him naked and he wouldn’t have noticed, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like looking at him.” She craned ever so slightly in her seat to get a better view.

“Between this and your Tom Cruise thing, I really think you need to get out more.”

“Thank you! I’ve been saying that for ages.”

She reluctantly ordered the vegetable plate, saying that her dad was bound to get a report if she ordered pot roast and was seen eating it in public. I ordered the pot roast, with plans to sneak her a piece or two. We chatted about her latest scheme for updating the motel while we waited for our meals, and our food was served before she could get sidetracked into talking about my love life. We were enjoying lemon pie for dessert when a commotion arose from one of the front tables. I cringed when I realized Dean and Sherri were at it again.

“I swear to God, Dean Chandler, you have got a hole in your pocket!” Sherri shouted. Every head in the room turned to watch the fight.

“You get a paycheck, too. Why do I have to be the one to buy your dinner?”

“Because I buy the groceries and pay the bills—since you can’t be bothered. And because you forgot my birthday. Again. You owe me a dinner.”

“Sherri, this is not the time. I don’t have any cash on me, so just pay the damn check.”

She threw a few bills on the table, then stalked out of the restaurant. He sat back down after she’d left and asked the waitress for another cup of coffee. As soon as the show was over, all the spectators turned to look at me, as if to see my reaction. I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “Hey, who knew we were going to get dinner and a show,” I quipped to Nita. “No need to see a movie now.”

“You’re not getting out of the movie that easily.”

The theater was a relic from the past—no stadium seating, digital projection, or surround sound. It was the same theater where my parents had watched a double feature of Westerns for a dime on Saturday afternoons when they were kids, and it hadn’t changed much since then. About the only difference was the ticket prices, which were still a real bargain compared to movie theaters in New York. Here, I could afford to buy snacks after buying a movie ticket. Nita and I bought popcorn and candy, then looked for two adjacent seats in the theater that weren’t broken or with springs coming through the worn velvet. There were about ten other people in the auditorium by the time the movie started. (Of course, the tallest one sat right in front of me.)

I zoned out and ate my snacks, barely paying any attention to the movie, which seemed to mostly involve a lot of running around and stuff blowing up. The sound system was as vintage as the theater, but they made up for it by cranking up the volume to the point that my whole body vibrated. Nita was engrossed in the film, I was sure. But then I turned to look at her and was surprised to see her sound asleep. She must have been working long hours lately, I thought. But then the head of the tall guy in front of me drooped forward. A loud snore came from the row behind me. It wasn’t the best movie ever, but it wasn’t an insomnia cure, either.

That was when I noticed a figure sneaking through the theater. An explosion on the screen revealed the cloaked and hooded wizard, and he was aiming for the tall guy sitting in front of me. I slumped down in my seat, fished a Junior Mint out of my candy box, and flicked it at the base of the tall guy’s neck. He sat up with a start, rubbing his neck, and the wizard hit the floor. The wizard must have been trying a sleeping spell to make it easy to pickpocket the audience. I elbowed Nita hard in the ribs.

“Welcome to the Cobb Inn!” she blurted as she popped back to life. Then she blinked and looked around. “Did I fall asleep?” she whispered to me.

“You picked the movie,” I said with a shrug. She went back to gazing dreamily at Tom on the screen, and I noticed the wizard moving around the theater again. I leaned over to her and whispered, “I’m heading to the bathroom.” She barely nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes stuck on the screen.

I duckwalked to the end of the row, trying to keep my head below the level of the seats while avoiding getting any part of my body other than my feet on the theater floor, which was coated in decades’ worth of spilled soda. When I got to a place where I was safely hidden but still had a straight shot at the other audience members, I started throwing Junior Mints at the sleeping people to wake them up. Soon the theater was full of people sitting up and rubbing their heads. I hadn’t noticed the buildup of magic—probably because any vibrating from my necklace would have been lost in the boom of the sound system—but I felt its absence when the spell apparently ended. Just at that moment, I turned to see the cloaked figure slip out through the emergency exit in the front of the auditorium. I was tempted to follow him, but I knew I wasn’t equipped for taking down a wizard. Sam was outside in the square, watching for cloaked figures, so I left it to him and went back to my seat.

Once the sleeping spell was gone, I was the one who had to be elbowed back to life at the end of the movie. As the lights came up, someone in the back of the theater shouted, “My wallet!” Then at the front of the theater, someone yelled, “Is this it?” Owner and wallet were soon reunited, although the wallet had been stripped of cash.