Croakies & Scream Read online

  “Oh, they know,” I said, frowning despite my determination to rise above the mean-natured reality that was Rogers. “For some reason, this guy has it out for me.”

  Grym glanced at Hobs. “It was really poor timing for your little friend there to break the rules.”

  I chewed my lip, nodding. “He never breaks the rules. I don’t know what came over him.”

  Sebille pulled her shoulders to square and sent a venomous glare Grym’s way.

  The cop noticed. “I’m no threat to him, Sebille. I’m just stating facts. You’re aware of veil poisoning, right?”

  I thought I saw a glint of surprise lighting her iridescent green gaze before she hardened against him again. “Hobs isn’t poisoned.”

  “It’s common enough,” Grym persisted. “Nothing to be ashamed about. He’s used to being under somebody’s thumb all the time. He might not have known to guard against it.”

  She shook her head stubbornly, but I saw the speculative glance she gave him.

  “What can we do about it, if he’s been poisoned?” I asked.

  Grym shook his head. “Nothing except manage it. As soon as the veil thickens again, he’ll be fine. But there’s no cure. Next Halloween he’ll suffer the effects again.”

  4

  Killing Casanova’s Chair

  “Skid-marked mouse panties,” I ground out. “How do we know for sure if he’s poisoned?”

  “Does he have a rash on his face?” Grym asked.

  I eyed the mask. “Hobs, can you take the mask off, please?”

  He shifted from foot to foot. “Hobs can’t do that, Miss.”

  The first thread of real concern slipped through me. “Hobs, it’s important. If you want me to protect you from that mean man, I need to know if you’re sick.”

  Hobs slipped behind Sebille, his long arms winding tightly around her thighs. “I can’t, Miss.”

  I threw Sebille a look. She nodded tightly. Reaching toward the hobgoblin, she tried to make a grab for the golden mask but Hobs skittered away, faster than the eye could follow, an evil cackle drifting in his wake.

  Grym’s brows lifted and I sighed. “I guess that answers that.”

  “I’ll keep trying to get it away from him,” I said.

  “You probably won’t be able to. He must know the rash is a dead giveaway.”

  “He isn’t dangerous, is he?” I asked Grym, worrying about Wicked and Mr. Slimy.

  “The poison exacerbates all his normal characteristics. So if he was mean before, he could be dangerous now. If he was timid, he’ll be afraid of everything.”

  “And if he was fun-loving and mischievous?” I asked, afraid to hear Grym’s response.

  “He’ll be worse on both counts.” He must have seen the despair in my face and took pity on me. “It will all be over in a couple of days. Maybe you can lock him up somewhere safe until then?”

  I nodded, changing the subject. “What brings you to Croakies?”

  “I’m doing some legwork on a vandalism case at Mirror World.” He was watching me closely and probably didn’t miss the look of surprise on my face. “Every mirror in the place was shattered.”

  My knees started to give out underneath me and I stumbled toward the nearest chair, dropping into it.

  “I’ll make tea,” Sebille said, hurrying away. Sebille’s solution to almost everything was a good cup of tea. But since I was convinced she added a little magic to every cup, she was probably right.

  Grym sat down in another chair at the small table where I’d landed. “Part of my investigation was to watch the security tape for the hours leading up to the vandalism. You were on the video.” He grinned. “You and your frog.”

  I nodded numbly. “We were there looking for an artifact.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “No. Well, I’m not sure. But I found something else. Something worse.”

  “What was it?” Grym’s handsome face darkened with concern.

  A cup of steaming tea appeared in front of me and I took it, taking a bracing sip before answering Grym’s question. “I found myself. No…that’s not strictly true. I found my bad side. And I’m pretty sure it’s my fault it broke all those mirrors.”

  “A doppelganger spirit?” Grym asked, leaning forward.

  Nodding numbly, I lifted a terrified gaze to him. “What if the shattered mirrors were a message?” I asked him.

  “What kind of message? That you made her mad?”

  I shook my head, warming my icy hands on the steaming tea. “No. That she’s going to find me. And when she does, it’s not going to go well for me.”

  He clasped my hand in his big, square one and gave it a squeeze. “Then we’ll just have to find her first.”

  I nodded, though I had no idea how to go about that. Especially with everything else I was dealing with at the moment. Then I had a terrible thought. “You don’t think the spirit did something to Hobs?”

  Sebille dropped into the third chair, shaking her head. “Doppelgangers don’t inhabit other creatures willy-nilly. That’s not their thing. Once the spirit sets its sights on you, it will only represent as you as long as you’re around. Nobody else. They’re extremely single-minded creatures. Don’t forget, this spirit may look just like you, but she’s not really you, Naida. She’s a demon.”

  I thought of my friend, Pansy. She wasn’t evil. I realized there was probably a lot more to it than Sebille was telling me. “So, I have to die to be released from the thing?”

  Sebille nodded. “Generally, yes.”

  “There has to be a way around that,” Grym said, his hand warm around mine.

  Sebille frowned thoughtfully. “We might be able to use the thinning of the veil against it. The thinness makes it easier for magic to enter our plane, but in theory, it would also make it easier to force the spirit back into its own plane.”

  I scrubbed my hand over my face, feeling weary and not a little bit scared. My life was already a mess. The new threat felt overwhelming.

  The dividing door opened, and Rogers shot through with a yelp. He tried to slam the door closed, but there was something in the way. I stood up, afraid it was the spirit.

  Unfortunately, it was something worse.

  Rogers leaped forward as Casanova’s chair danced into the room and scooped him up from behind, rearing onto its back two legs and spinning jauntily as Rogers tried to climb the back to keep from being goosed by the randy furniture.

  I hurried forward, intending to help and having no idea how to do that given the fact the chair never listened to me or anybody else. I jolted to a halt as the door swung open again and SB flew through, a bawdy bar song on his beak and a sword sailing through the room beneath him.

  I threw out my hand to grab the hilt before it could reach the SDM representative and SB fluttered into the air, shedding a colorful swath of feathers across the bookstore as he flew an exuberant circle through the space.

  “May all the blood of all the Brits be spill’d along the shore, for Blackbeard wields a spritely sword as sharp as the tongue of a whore.”

  “Hush, SB!” I yelled as I fought with the dancing sword. The blade had clearly been infused with an errant strand of magic because it wasn’t listening to me at all. I clasped it in both hands, sweat pouring down my temples as I struggled to bring it to heel.

  In the meantime, Sebille shot an arrow of magic energy the color of her green eyes into Casanova’s dancing chair. The oversexed chair shot into the air, spinning in circles so fast poor, pasty-faced Rogers was a blur, and then dropped hard enough to the ground to eject the SDM rep from the seat and send him crashing into a shelf of books.

  The chair went very still, its upholstery drooping.

  Sebille and I fixed it with a wary gaze. “Did you kill it?” I asked my assistant.

  She shrugged as if it didn’t matter one way or the other to her. “Hopefully.”

  A long, drawn-out groan reminded me I hadn’t dealt with my real problem yet.

 
Rogers shoved slowly to his feet, his bowler hat sideways on his head and his tidy jacket askew on his shoulders. He lasered me with a deadly gaze, scowling so hard he was in danger of his goatee popping off his face. “You!” He lifted a short, shaky finger in my direction. The quivering digit was permeated with such rage that if it had been able to fire a bullet, the ammunition would have pierced my heart and kept going until it had seared through several walls before finally being subdued.

  “I’m really sorry…” I said before being cut off.

  “You will be sorry,” he gasped out, tugging his hat around with a quick, slashing movement. “You will be very sorry indeed, Miss Griffith.” With that he stomped toward the door, grasping the handle and twisting it hard enough to separate it from the wood.

  Rogers’ hat popped up from his head and then dropped, popping up again a moment later. A muffled “ribbit” emerged from under the bowler. Rogers went very still. “What is under my hat,” he ground out slowly.

  Sebille snickered.

  A flash of movement atop the bookshelves had me turning my head in time to see Hobs cocking a finger and blowing on the tip.

  I wanted to cry. Instead, I trudged over and removed Rogers’ hat, handing it to him so I could grasp the fat green squish on his head with both hands and pull him safely off.

  I peed on his head, Slimy said with a blink of his blank, black eyes.

  Sebille snorted out a laugh, and I gave her wide eyes. She covered her face, coughing into her hand as Rogers turned to share his hatred with her. “You two would be smart to begin searching for new employment and a different place to live. Your time here at Croakies has a very short shelf life…pun intended.” He jammed his hat back onto his head and left, slamming the door behind him so hard the glass rattled.

  I read somewhere that frog pee is good for the scalp, Slimy added helpfully.

  A determined cracking sound filled the silence. I watched as the window in the door sported a diagonal fissure that ran from the top left corner to the bottom right corner.

  I dropped into a chair at the little round table, the frog squatting on my thighs. Depression made my limbs heavy and I fought tears.

  The frog hopped closer, settling into a soft puddle in my lap. He didn’t say anything. I got the feeling he was just there to give me comfort. I appreciated the thought, if not the actual fact that the leaky amphibian was perched on my leg.

  The other chair was suddenly pulled out and flipped around. Grym sat down on it backward, his dark-caramel gaze finding mine. “It’s going to be all right, Naida,” he told me in a soft, rumbly voice.

  I shook my head, not realizing until a tear slipped off my chin that I’d been crying. “It’s going to be over soon one way or the other. Either the doppelganger will kill me, or the SDM will throw me out into the streets and I’ll die of starvation since I have no marketable skills.”

  Grym patted my hand, sighing.

  A steaming cup of tea appeared before me, I looked up into Sebille’s glower. “Stop being such a drama queen,” She said. “We’re going to kick this thing’s phantom, doorstopper-sized behind, and then we’ll tackle the SDM.”

  I took the tea, sipped it, and sighed. Somehow I did feel better. Despite the reference to my door-stopper-sized backside the doppelganger was reflecting. I smacked my lips. “What’s in this? My tummy feels all warm and stuff.”

  Sebille winked at me.

  Seeing her wink, Grym held up a hand. “Yes, please.”

  Sebille was chuckling darkly when she headed back to the tea center.

  I eyed Grym. “What do you know that I don’t?”

  His smile was wide. “I saw what she put into the tea.”

  I opened my mouth to ask and then decided against it, taking another sip of the delightful concoction. Ignorance was bliss at the moment, and goddess knew I needed a little bliss.

  I staggered up to my apartment a short while later, the room spinning slightly but my mood greatly improved. Grym had promised to repair the glass in the front door, and Sebille was going to confer with her mother about my doppelganger problem.

  I felt a little better. Until I realized it was only a couple of hours until the witching hour returned and my battle with all the artifacts in the library would begin.

  Then there was Hobs…

  No. I wasn’t going there. I’d think of a way to contain him until the veil thickened later.

  Right after my nap.

  Stumbling into my apartment, I headed straight for my bed, dropping onto it face first and letting the whirling inside my head spin me to sleep. Sometime before I dropped completely off, the mattress dipped and a warm, soft presence curled into my side.

  The gentle rumble of Wicked’s purring lulled me the rest of the way into oblivion.

  5

  Pump me Up

  Sleep wasn’t restful. I jolted awake an hour later and sat bolt upright, my head aching. I groaned, rubbing my temples, and climbed out of bed with two thoughts in mind. I needed something for my cottonmouth, and I needed to talk to Grym.

  Oh, and I needed to sing the Make Me a Magic Muffin song too. As soon as I realized that, I veered toward my bathroom, the third thing taking precedence over the others.

  Fortunately, I’d covered all my mirrors as soon as I’d learned about my unwelcome friend. Still, I ducked under it on the way into the tiny bathroom and washed my hands in the kitchen instead of standing at the bathroom sink.

  After the dreams I’d had, I wasn’t taking any chances.

  I sucked down two glasses of water and then headed down to the store, hoping Grym was still there.

  I found him shaking the glass man’s hand and hurried over as the man picked up his toolbox and headed outside. “How much do I owe you?” I asked Grym as he closed the door.

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t want you to pay…”

  Grym held up a hand, stopping me. “He wouldn’t let me give him anything. I helped him out once, and this was his way of thanking me.”

  I walked over and eyed the man as he slid the wooden box full of tools into the back of his truck. He spotted me and gave me a wave.

  I waved back. “Is he supernormal?”

  “He is.” Grym stood beside me, grinning. “But I’m not going to tell you what he is.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “As long as he’s not a giant stink bug, I’m okay.” I’d recently had a too-close encounter with a giant stink bug shifter and I hoped never to experience that particular level of disgusting again.

  Grym’s smile widened.

  So did my eyes. “No!”

  Grym just chuckled darkly. “Sebille brought back tacos. We left yours over there on the table.”

  I fell on the treat with a groan, realizing as I smelled them just how starved I was. “Oh, these taste so good.” I looked around. “Where is she?”

  “In the greenhouse. She and Queen Sindra are researching a solution for the doppelganger problem.”

  I nodded, running the napkin over my lips. “I have an idea about that. And I need your help. Can you get me into Mirror World?”

  He frowned. “Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like a good idea for you to be around a bunch of mirrors right now.”

  I nodded, gathering my wrappers and stuffing them inside the paper bag. “You said they were all smashed, right?”

  “It sure looked like it to me.”

  “Then it should be safe. Mostly. I think there might be one mirror in there somewhere that wasn’t broken. It could be my artifact.”

  He frowned. “Then it’s not safe. I’ll go and see if I can find it.”

  “No!” The word came out much harsher than I’d planned. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m about to lose my job because I suck at it so bad. I need to do this. Wrangling artifacts is my job, not yours. I’ll take precautions. But I have to go with you.”

  When his frown softened a bit, I tried gentling my tone. “Please, Grym. This is important to me.”

 
He held my gaze for a moment and then sighed. “Okay, but how are you going to keep from meeting up with that thing in the mirror?”

  I swung my gaze toward the open dividing door, and then around the room. Placing my finger against my lips, I quietly walked over and closed the door, sending my keeper magic into the knob to keep anyone from opening it except me or Sebille.

  It was possible my cat, who seemed to have more magic than I did, could open it from the other side. But I was counting on the fact that I’d left him curled up on my bed, out like a light.

  I did the same with the exterior door. Then I walked over and opened the cabinet under the tea things, pulling out a small, white paper bag with a big grease spot on it.

  I opened the bag and almost passed out from the delicious aroma wafting up from inside.

  Grym peered inside the bag, lifting a dark eyebrow in silent question.

  I shook my head, pulling the frosted chocolate brownie out of the bag and placing it on a paper plate.

  I leaned close to Grym and spoke softly. “Be ready to grab him.”

  He didn’t bother to hide his confusion, but he stayed close to me as I walked over and set the plate down on the table.

  I barely had time to wave my hand over the plate a few times to spread the delicious aroma through the air before the illumination overhead segmented, and I was bathed in a light breeze as something flashed past.

  I looked down in dismay.

  The brownie was gone.

  Fortunately, when I looked at Grym, he had a rocklike arm wrapped around the little hobgoblin, who was trying to shove the brownie through the narrow, inflexible mouth hole of the mask.

  I reached out and tugged the mask off Hobs’ little face. “I’ll take that, thank you.”

  Hobs shoved the brownie into his mouth, his cheeks bulging accordingly.

  He grinned, chocolate covering his sharp little teeth.

  I grinned back. “Good?”

  He nodded.

  I took his little hand, spidery fingers warm against mine. “Hobs, you’ve been poisoned by magic.” I pointed to the telltale rash over his cheeks and he frowned. “You’re sick.”