Page 36 of Last Call at the Doghouse

Mary chatted with a couple of regulars, smiling easily, much more at home here than she’d been in the first couple of weeks. Duncan, who was now a proven liar, might’ve lied about Mary and Sonny. Maybe he’d seen something and misinterpreted it. Why should she make excuses for him? She’d go with him being a liar, for now. Either way, she needed to have a talk with Mary. Tonight.

* * *

Mitch considered checking out of the B&B and heading back to his cabin with his comfortable bed in his own space, but he didn’t. He tortured himself by staying for at least one more night; by sleeping in the bed where last night he hadn’t had to sleep alone.

If he was home he’d be too close to Armi to stay away, and she didn’t want to see him. Until he had an answer there was no need to face her, but still, being away from her felt wrong. Not quite dangerous, not yet, but still… wrong. He was supposed to know when she needed him, he should feel it if she was in any danger tonight. That’s what he’d been told, but he didn’t have faith that he could rely on that promised instinct.

What was Lovell’s goal? Why tell Armi in such a public and sudden way what Mitch was?

It was a trick; a way to separate him from Armi. Who wanted him out of the way? Maybe the answers were here in Mystic Springs. He was unlikely to find any in his cabin by the lake.

Sleep wouldn’t come, so in the middle of the night he left, creeping down the stairs and out the back door, where he stripped and shifted. For a while he ran as he had the night before, bathing in the power that was Mystic Springs, doing his best to toss off his frustration. To run it off.

Near midnight he found himself in front of the mural in downtown Mystic Springs. In his canine form he had a different vantage point, and he missed the bright colors. Some details were not as clear as they’d been before.

No one was about at this hour, so he shifted into his human form again. Naked, he studied the mural.

It had changed. Maybe it was the light, but the colors seemed dimmer. No, it wasn’t just the light that made the mural different. In the picture before him grey clouds had rolled in. There was litter on the street, as if people had dropped what they’d been holding in excitement, maybe in fear. A little girl looked down at a broken cookie on the ground. People were no longer smiling, they were angry or afraid.

Mitch himself was there, that bloodhound at his side.

At his feet, in the center of the street, a woman lay on the ground. She was wounded; maybe even dead. It looked as though she was dissolving, coming apart, pieces of her floating up and into a beam of bright light. Even if he didn’t know that face so well, he would’ve recognized the silver streak in Armi’s hair.

What kind of a sick joke was this? He reached out to touch the painting. It had been completely repainted since that afternoon, but the paint was completely dry.

He shifted again and ran toward the B&B. This time of day he expected the back patio to be deserted, but it wasn’t. Two young girls sat in wrought iron chairs, antsy and unhappy, looking this way and that searching for something in the dark, whispering now and then. He couldn’t make out every word, but his hearing was good, even from a distance. He heard one of them say, “Where is that damn dog?”

* * *

Felicity scanned the darkness for a sign of the dog she knew was out there somewhere. She could feel it, she just couldn’t pinpoint the mutt.

She didn’t want to be imprisoned here in Mystic Springs. She wanted the freedom to take her power with her wherever she went. To college one day. To theme parks and the beach and the mountains. Going to these places without her magic would be like cutting off one arm before going on vacation. She wasn’t herself without it.

Bria fiddled with the charm she wore, the one that helped her ward off constant sightings of, and conversations with, ghosts. The talisman didn’t always work, but she said it made things better. The occasional spirit made their way to her, but it didn’t happen all the time. Apparently the ghosts had to work hard to make their way past the protective magic.

Some magics weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

“If my mom finds me gone this late on a weeknight…” Bria said, not for the first time.

“She won’t.”

“What are we supposed to do with this dog when we find it?”

Felicity sighed. “We need to reason with him.”

“The dog or the man?”

“Both, I guess.”

Maybe the dire predictions about what would happen if the barrier wasn’t reinstalled were wrong, either lies or miscalculations, written or uttered by those who wanted to isolate this magical town. It was true, some might wish to live away from their abilities if they weren’t pleasant. If Bria didn’t have help warding off ghosts, she might wish for escape herself.

Felicity’s magic was entirely pleasant, thank you. No one had a better ability with spells, and potions came to her easily. In the past year her psychic ability had grown, but she could control it, call on it when she needed it, and put it aside the rest of the time. Sometimes the prophetic dreams were alarming, but not always. She and Bria together, best friends, talented witches… they could be unstoppable. If they could do all this at the age of fourteen, then as young women they’d rule the world.

If they wanted to, which honestly she did not. Still, control of her own life would be nice.

Bria stood. “Sorry, I have to go. It’s just too late. We can find the guy tomorrow. Maybe he’ll be reasonable.”

Felicity gave in. If Mitch Duncan had seen them waiting here, he wouldn’t show himself at all. “Tomorrow,” she said as she followed Bria around the old house. “Somehow we have to coerce him to our side.”