We regrouped on the bridge a few hours later. Melanie had given us some information, and her annoyance and accusation toward the worst name of the three that had been mentioned really felt like we were up against a firing squad. Once back together, Mom shared with Dad our encounter, and he was relieved to hear about it, but the accomplishment was short-lived as we watched the town and the neighboring ones spiral out of control. Major names in journalism were flocking to the area, looking for anyone willing to talk about the wild domino effect of high-profile crimes and grueling deaths. I sat uncomfortably at my console trading comments with Tony over a text feature as the reporters traded hyperbolic theories about a savage decapitating axe murderer that had somehow disappeared from a hobby craft store after murdering one of its employees and blowing up a car.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the town’s round-faced former farmer, now mayor, said at a podium surrounded by a dozen special agents in suits. “We have never seen such terrifying crimes take place in our city, let alone our state. I understand that you all feel mortified, and my office is working closely with federal authorities to get funding to rebuild our Main Street businesses, and we will dedicate our time and attention to public safety.”
It was a standard speech, but Mayor Goldstein had always had a calm demeanor, and he hadn’t been a successful farmer and agricultural teacher at the high school and community college without developing a reasonably decent reputation. Based on the speech, he seemed like an honest politician.
An honest politician who was no in a situation way over his head and above his pay grade.
The mayor continued his speech, and a quick glance at the city’s police officers conveyed worry and serious apprehension.
These are big-city cops. Tony wrote. They’re glorified security guards and traffic patrols.
That’s a little rude. I wrote back to Tony. An official agent from the FBI came to the podium and offered some thanks before giving a profile and some suspicious activities for the public to keep an eye out for.
“I know what I have described will probably not ease your tension because all of this has come at you really fast and it has all been quite a shock. We understand that and please, try to keep calm and don’t let your fears get the best of you.”
“Easier said than done,” I muttered.
Dad paused the feed. “Tony, what do you have?”
“The stories are rolling in,” Tony said, “Social media is full of stories about a samurai to a hulking axe murderer. There are plenty of memes, and some people are sounding a bit skeptical and are claiming that it’s a prank.”
“A prank,” I repeated. “I doubt the mom and kids who say the vampire would think that’s a prank.”
“It’s Halloween,” Tony said, “There are stores that sell axes and pretty legit severed heads.”
“And that’s another thing that confuses me,” I said. “I didn’t have an axe and as far as we know, only the shapeshifter saw me, but that was just for a second. Why would she say that I used an axe? The more lethal ones are cumbersome, and you need serious muscle to use them properly. Why didn’t Amy One say anything about me?”
“It’s a worthwhile question,” Dad said. “and she might have, but the fact that you correctly determined that she wouldn’t want to lose her contraband means that she was conflicted, or maybe there was something else that she wanted to avoid.”
“We’ve got some channels with breaking news alerts,” Mom said.
“On screen,” Dad said.
Video feeds appeared on the screen. A reporter had a stoic expression, but his neck muscles, which were bulging, told me that the producers had put a lot on the teleprompter. “Witnesses claim there was a single individual who survived the onslaught, but an explosion created a big distraction and presumably this individual was taken by the killer.”
“Sounds like Amy caused the explosion,” Mom said, “she probably had that as a failsafe.”
“It would explain why this supposed witness vanished,” Dad agreed.
A second reporter played, affirming the first, but then we got a little more information. “Unfortunately, the only witness who, for some reason, cannot be identified, has vanished. Authorities are looking for an African American woman in her twenties. She was shy and about five feet, five inches tall. We have been given a sketch that we will circulate via our website and on our social media platforms. If you have any information or knowledge about this young lady, federal authorities are asking that you come forward.”
He shuffled some papers. “Our hearts and prayers go out to her and her family, and we hope she will not end up as the latest victim of this terrible tragedy.”
A third report played; this one was two women and a panel of so-called experts.
A reporter, a woman with red hair and a southern accent. “Dr. Palmer, what do you think we should make of such a terrifying sequence of events? This is a big city. There are small towns that don’t have a history of gangs and horrible crimes. Could this mean that rural communities might not be safe anymore?”
“Well, you know Cheryl that rural communities,” Dr. Palmer spoke with a nasal tone and a stiff accent. It came off as a professor who used the same material and had a decade of not having his opinions challenged.
Dr. Palmer offered a bland opinion, and an older woman with narrow features and blond hair glared at him for several seconds, and when given the chance, she was ready to pounce.
“Dr. Palmer, we’re not talking about a war front or third-world country. It''s academically dishonest to stereotype the region as something that is less valuable or less worthy than our larger metropolitan areas.”
“We can’t deny,” Cheryl, the reporter, said, “that something is going on in this area. The store’s cameras were disabled, and it was reported that several Main Street businesses and small businesses were attacked without warning and without any known criminal entity taking credit for the attack.”
Dad paused the segment and grumbled some inaudible words. “Cameras disabled, a missing witness, and now our antics are being chalked up to an axe-wielding murderer and a large-scale criminal conspiracy. This just keeps getting better and better.”
“M.A.G.E needs to get into gear and get a handle on this,” Mom said.
Dad grumbled dismissively. “I’d wager they are, but there could be things that we don’t know about. They may not know who to trust.”
Tony gulped. “Dad, you know that could include us, right? Could M.A.G.E have agents looking into suspicious communications or what if our contacts are being investigated.”
“Possible, but I don’t believe it at the moment,” Dad said.
I sank into my chair. “I should have handled it better. If I had managed to stake the vampire, I could have gotten him out of there.”
“It would have helped,” Dad said, “but a hunger-driven vampire isn’t a simple target. If you hadn’t been there, he could have ripped through the whole store and the story would be a lot worse.”
“That mom and kids did see his monster form,” I added, “how long will it take before their story gets out?”
“Their shock will make them question what they saw,” Mom said, “the police have their names, but they’re probably uncreditable witnesses.”
Tony coughed. “So, to sum up, we threw a wrench into the mess and have alienated a shapeshifter who we need to interrogate. While maintaining our cover and investigating whether a dark witch is trying to wage an all-out war.”
Tony looked around the bridge. “This looks bad, and it is really bad, I’m not going to lie, but we can work with hysteria, right?”
“As long as we stay out of the news,” Dad said. “We know the shapeshifter didn’t talk, and we dealt with the cameras, but the authorities might have salvaged something. Honey, what have you found?”
Mom looked up from the comms station. “As far as I can tell, there’s nothing. We’re still in shadows for now.”
“We’ll keep looking,” Dad said, sounding unconvinced. “For now, we’ll work with hysteria. We’ll head out and act as though everything is normal, and we’ll push common ground and be the helpful neighbors everyone thinks we are.”
“We don’t have to worry about outside jobs,” Mom said.
“Agreed,” Dad acknowledged, “and if we come across other possible situations, I don’t like it but we may have to let things happen. It’s important that we keep our heads down, get more information, and do what we can to not draw attention to ourselves.”
“So, we can turn our attention to our real target.” Mom said, “All of this has got to be a problem with whatever she’s planning, right?”
“I’d like to think so,” Dad said, “Melanie said that C.O.V.E.N was up in arms because they heard rumors that Suzy was here in this town.”
“That’s what she said,” I confirmed.
“M.A.G.E may be watching, and there are a lot of authorities watching, so Suzy is going to have to tread carefully. That could be an advantage for us because we may be able to figure out what she tries to do to stay hidden.”
“Because we’ll be doing the same thing,” Tony said.
“Not everything, and hopefully we’ll do it better,” Dad said, “Suzy Sourblood. It can’t be a coincidence that Melanie mentioned her, too.”
“Could that be her movement?” Tony asked. “A dark witch would scare the minion-level creatures. What if Melanie’s big focus is trying to keep familiars and other monsters out of the way.”
“That would make sense, and we know that if you want to hide a larger crime, you need to commit a ton of smaller crimes,” I said, “I doubt they wouldn’t participate willing, and like the new girl in school, Melanie didn’t seem the type to challenge Suzy directly.”
“But she’s committed to a cause so she’s doing what she can,” Mom finished, “indirectly.”
“That’s a good point, Emma,” Dad affirmed, “I’d wager that most of the petty crimes would be signed off as clerical error.”
“The companies and firms,” Mom added, “they wouldn’t go public if they did find the larger areas that the police would have to investigate.”
“They would hide what they could,” Dad said, “but there are some things that they would hide because they could come up in an audit. But why do it?”
Dad glanced at Mom, “What do we know about her? What’s her M.O.? Does she have weaknesses? Anything we can exploit?”
Mom sighed, and I watched the color slowly fade from her cheeks. “I think we’ll skip the rap sheet and the visuals, but I want everyone to know now that Suzy isn’t the average witch. She has quite a reputation and has done some pretty strange and terrible things over the decades.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Mom fiddled with the console and displayed microfilm displays and a simple timeline.
“As we all know, witches are essentially immortal but can be killed by certain methods, poisons, blunt force trauma, drowning. Suzy has beat the odds on multiple occasions. No one knows her real age or her real name. but some have believed her to be the inspiration behind literary myths and legends and even some ghost stories.”
Mom clicked a few buttons and came down to the view screen. “Since the late seventies, Suzy had a reputation for occasionally wandering campsites in Wyoming, Idaho, and Utah and spending a considerable time in national parks where she spooked animals and occasionally kidnapped children. They were found unharmed, and there are unsupported accounts that she was seen at a distance, but she was never directly confronted. After a few decades, there were other reports in a remote suburb outside San Fransico where someone matching Suzy''s alleged description had allegedly cleared out an entire neighborhood. One of those cookie-cutter streets where every house was the same, and every yard was the same, almost down to the flower petals in the front yard. All of the families, about seventeen in all, decided to take a vacation, even if they couldn''t genuinely afford it. In one joint effort, the community banded together so everyone could go. Upon their return, each family found photos missing from their family albums. Extended family members reported strange phone calls late at night or randomly throughout a particular day while they were gone. Closets and drawers had been removed and dumped hastily on the floor or neatly spread across the bed.”
Mom expounded on additional exploits and incidents surrounding the suburbs, but after a few minutes, I analyzed each image from multiple angles. The image quality made it difficult to zoom in, but out of a few thefts and questionable deaths, the suburb vacation was particularly interesting to me.
You chased everyone out of their homes. I glanced at the snapshots of each family. The news had circulated at the time as the authorities investigated the trip and the blatant home invasions that had taken place.
Why get everyone out of their homes at the same time and treat each family differently?
“The authorities had speculated a range of revenge motives. Still, nothing had stuck given the different age ranges and occupations the people presented, a few newlyweds versus some couples in the prime of life.”
What were you looking for? “Mom, did Suzy leave fresh baked cookies at a select set of houses?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Tony added. “The inconsistent pattern is puzzling. Why would she be a maid in some houses but then go off like a bull in a China shop or a rampaging toddler and leave things in a complete mess? Do police reports speculate what she was looking for?”
“Nothing they confirmed or partially proved,” Mom said, while her Master show paused on a weathered newspaper headline that pictured one chocolate chip cookie beside a plate and some crumbles, and a small image to the right depicted a broken thermostat.
“The only thing investigators agreed on was that she probably had accomplices, and a few of them got greedy.”
“There are similar reports in other states,” Dad said, “Someone matching her description is wanted for questions and has been since 1987. In similar events, witnesses, investigators, and even victims, when her name came up, they all thought it was a joke.”
I zoomed in on a thermostat; not every house had the same model, but it didn’t take much imagination to recognize that the damage was similar. A single hole about the size of a finger right in the middle.
“Do witches need intense cold for survival?”
“Dark ones are rumored to prefer it, but it’s a choice, not a requirement.” Dad gestured to Mom, who cycled through images of the homes where we noted additional damage, couches ripped, doors smashed along with ice on glass cups, and condensation on the windows and mirrors regardless of the position throughout the house.
When we came to police renderings created during the original investigations. Dad gestured to Mom, who shrank the first four sketches, making each of them visible, like DB Cooper, who was relatively unknown, dangerous, and mysterious. Suzy seemed to be known as a woman with long white hair, narrow features, almost hawkish with High cheekbones, and she was reasonably thin and fair.
“We have a series of events that are drastic and unexplainable,” Dad said. “Suzy is up to something. She’s been in and out of the public eye since the 80s but if C.O.V.E.N was agitated. She’s got to have a goal, or something has attracted her attention, and she’s bound and determined to have it before anyone else.”
“That’s a big enough reason where she wanted M.A.G.E out of the way,” I said.
“So, what does she know that makes her think that M.A.G.E is down for the moment?” Tony asked. “We know criminals are smart, but M.A.G.E is a powerful organization, and I wouldn’t pass them to be watching carefully and then when their attacker reveals themselves, they’ll come out swinging.”
“While true in theory,” Mom said, “we nabbed Amy One because we were wondering about the criminal underworld. If there was any chance M.A.G.E was biding its time for a counterattack she probably would have skipped town or tried to do her job elsewhere.”
“It’s an idea,” Dad said, “and we should proceed as though they are watching. We can’t get cocky.”
“So let’s consider something,” I said, “Amy One came here because M.A.G.E was attacked, but she didn’t really talk about M.A.G.E. Instead, she kept referring to Someone, and Pop did mention that, like her, there is another shapeshifter that goes by that name.”
I got to my feet and stretched. “What if Amy was here because Someone was here?”
Mom perked up at the idea. “There was no love loss in her voice. She may have been plotting some kind of revenge. She did say that shapeshifters know how to hold a grudge.”
“That does add a piece to the puzzle,” Dad said, “A dark witch and a shapeshifter may be rivals, but they could be working together to plot some kind of hostile takeover. Why else have henchmen attacked those businesses?”
“She’s a brutal bullet to fire at someone, or I’d wager she has a score to settle,” Tony said, “Wizards, witches, and magicians don’t make a lot of friends.”
“It’s a dance,” Mom said.
Dad pursed his lips, “A dance that involves dozens of ghosts, monster henchmen, and a shapeshifter.”
“Speaking of the shapeshifter,”
Pop’s voice carried over the speaker system, and after a second, Pop’s face appeared on the screen. He stood in his customary place, and I saw several red and green lights reflecting off surfaces that made it hard to look at the view screen for longer than a few seconds. Pop realized this and fiddled with a switch and turned down the lights.
Pop ran a hand through his wavy gray hair. “I’ve had all systems go. Once I struck gold, I figured I best get this info in your hands,”
“Are we all good?” Dad asked.
“Of course,” Pop said. “Grandma met me at the security point, and we put the car in the shed and secured our visitor. As far as we were able to determine, we weren’t followed.”
“What do you get?” Dad asked.
Pop sighed and scratched his nose. “I reached out to a few tinkerers and engineers who have had ties with M.A.G.E. A few of them cryptically got back to me, and apparently, M.A.G.E as a whole is ghosting outside operators right now, but they have reason to believe that something is huge is brewing behind the scenes.”
Pop glanced over his shoulder and then lowered his voice, which didn’t seem necessary because he was typically alone in his shop. I noticed a twinkle in his eye and his lip twitched in concern. “Apparently it all started when their director, a wizard named Dawson Shakespeare. He was murdered, and his last will and testament charged one of their top agents, Ares Blackstone, to solve his murder.”
“The Blackstone,” Dad exclaimed.
Pop nodded, “They had a succession meeting on the down low, and for a few months, everything had been business as usual until the Main Street attack.”
“Sounds like Suzy means business,” Tony said.
Mom clapped a hand to her mouth and worked up the courage to speak. “Everybody if the M.A.G.E director was murdered, and a Dark Witch is going after them. The organization has got to be on edge and like Tony said, they’re going to come out swinging when Suzy makes her next move.”
“They probably will,” Pop added, sounding breathless. “If they’ve gone to the ground, I propose that we do the same and let this play out. I’m happy to hand off our intel covertly to one of my contacts. I’ll even turn over Amy One, which could earn some brownie points.” “We’d avoid some unwanted trouble,” Mom said, “we came close to getting caught today, the closest we’ve ever come. If we continue, we’ll have to hope we catch super-powered bad guys off guards and then be quick enough to take them out and escape.”
“Either could potentially be catastrophic,” Dad said. “We were sloppy at the craft store, but the situation spiraled out of control. It will be hard to operate without someone looking over their shoulder, but I don’t think we can sit this one out.”
“Why do you say that?” Mom asked.
“If we keep our ears to the ground and know something’s coming and don’t do anything about it, we might as well retire.” Dad said, “Plus, the only way to we can sure we keep our noses clean is to make sure we stay ahead of potential threats that could jeopardize our operation.”
“And if we know they’re coming, we should deal with them. “I said.
“It''s complicated for sure,” Pop agreed. “And I figured as much when Grandma and I talked about it. Fortunately, we’re not entirely in the dark.”
Pop fiddled with something off-screen, and then, after a few beeps, three new images popped up. A man in multiple styles of suits dating back from a few years to a few decades.
“When Amy kept assuming we worked for Someone, I figured that she was referring to the shapeshifter, Samuel One, who, over the years, has been somewhat of her rival.”
“We reasoned it might have been a revenge plot, so that fits.” Tony said, “Are they related like siblings or something?”
“Only by occupation and shapeshifters do live a fairly long time, but they are the first to use the monikers, but they definitely popularized them,” Pop replied, and then he proceeded to give us some of Samuel’s greatest hits. Dad looked intrigued, and so he settled into his captain’s chair.
“He’s an assassin, had a few larceny charges on a variety of aliases, and the same businesses suffered from corporate sabotage, and he’s listed as a possible suspect on some assassinations in European and South American countries.”
“Amy is the artist. Samuel, he''s a celebrity thug for hire.” Pop said, “Someone has worked in certain spy and espionage circles but has no real loyalty other than that confirmation of getting a paycheck. But even then, there have been rumors that he''d still throw his employer under the bus for the right amount.”
“How would any shapeshifter stay in business as an assassin or a spy if their employer has to worry about them being ratted out or killed? Tony asked.
“It certainly gives a new meaning to the term two-faced,” I added, “I’d wager they’re a bit careful about double-crossing an employer. They’d look for a way into a takedown without drawing suspicion on themselves.”
“There’s certainly no love lost between Amy and Samuel,” Mom said, “She dropped his name a few times, and thinking about the way she was talking If I didn''t know any better, I would be wagering that she would want us to go after him ourselves. Take out her competition for her.”
“You’re probably right,” Dad said, “but now that we know he’s here, we have names and an idea of their plan.”
“How so?” Mom asked.
“Amy said Someone was here to be a part of a real game changer,” Dad continued, “They run in similar circles, and she''s here for petty revenge. Logically it seems that whatever Samuel is up to requires a lot of attention, so he brought some personal items with him. I bet she was preparing the fraudulent canvases we grabbed and was going to swap them out.”
“He does have a history as a bomb maker,” Pop said, “If it wasn’t Suzy herself, it makes sense to assume that Someone was probably one of the ones that attacked an M.A.G.E business.”
“Bombs would fit his MO,” Pop said, “but bringing a shapeshifter into the crew seems odd. You could have anyone drop off a bomb. Plus, if you wanted to keep M.A.G.E off your back. Considering the money and corruption the dark beings like to dabble in. Why not just contract it out to some human bomb maker and let some gang take the credit.”
“This isn’t your average crew,” Dad said, “but you have a point. When most creatures have a human form, why have a versatile henchman unless you need their skills for something bigger.”
Mom perked up, “We need to look into all high-profile targets. A dark witch has taken out M.A.G.E and has them looking in one direction. There’s no one better to infiltrate a space than a shapeshifter.”
“It''s worth checking out,” Pop said, “but that could be a lengthy list. We don’t have convention space, so I don’t think celebrities will have events in town, but something could happen a few towns over.”
“It could be someone obscure,” Mom said. “The more high profile the name, the larger crowd they’ll draw, and the harder it would be to use the persona for anything underhanded.”
“Alright, guys,” Dad said, “Let’s go to work.”
And just like that, the train was out of the station. We continued throwing a few theories around, and then I felt a buzz in my back pocket. While Mom and Dad further speculated about our targets and their plans, Tony and Pop added their own comments. I pulled out my phone and hurried to a corner near the com station. Here, the system generated a signal blocker and whited out the background noise, so we didn''t have to move back into the house. I figured it was Grandma who had updates or insights, and she didn’t want to talk over the family conference. But surprisingly, it wasn''t.
“Hey, Emma,” Lauren said. She sounded upbeat. But it was over the top, and I could tell she was tired, maybe even feeling a little frustrated or timid. “It''s Lauren. I got your number from the campus directory. I''m sorry to bug you, but I didn''t know what else to do.”
“What''s going on?” I asked. I glanced at the clock. It was already after 6:00 PM.
“I have two classes tonight. I just finished one and was about to get some dinner when my car wouldn''t start. I got dinner at the student center, and I still got class, but I''m worried that I won''t be able to get home, and my dad''s working super late and my mom is at a conference..”
“Lauren, say no more,” I said. “I''ll talk to my dad, and then we can swing around with no problem. He''s great with cars.”
I had to respect the roundabout approach. Some people don''t want to be in an imposition with other people. Lauren was genuine, and I could tell she didn''t want to be imposed, but she had to face the music. Otherwise, she''d be stuck until morning.
I muted the call. “Dad and an old friend from high school were having car trouble up on campus. Could we go help her out?”
Dad glanced at his watch. “Absolutely.”
I unmuted the call and got some specifics. We needed a slight diversion anyway, and being seen helping a friend was a good step toward steering any kind of suspicion away from us. Just in case there were prying eyes that we hadn''t taken any notice of. We''re good, but I was worried someone out there was getting close. Or did we have some genuine competition?