"Three Deaths From a Gypsy's Curse"
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dochermes"Three Deaths From a Gypsy Curse"
(A Trom Girl Mystery)
9/22/2007
I.
Along the back roads up near Buffalo, Archie McAllister pushed the red Jeep Wrangler a bit faster. He had no trouble keeping the white SUV with its little trailer in sight, since it wasn't going particularly fast, but Megan had asked him to draw closer.
They were a mismatched couple at first glance. At six foot two and two hundred and forty pounds, he was almost a foot taller and more than a hundred pounds heavier than his partner. Archie seemed to need a haircut, a shave and some sleep but somehow he always managed to look like that. He was wearing heavy tan work boots, corduroy pants and a denim jacket. The big, scarred hands on the steering wheel were competent and assured.
Sitting next to him, letting him drive for a change, the Trom Girl was fiddling with a gadget she had taken from a metal carrying case on the back seat. It looked much like a small radio except for the tuning fork protruding from one end. With the same seriousness she gave to nearly everything, Megan made some adjustments and showed the barest flicker of satisfaction as the device hummed and a green light flickered on and off.
"Hah! Picking up some progressive rock FM station, right?"
She presented Archie with an affectionate smile. "Oh you. This will allow us to have a conversation with that driver up ahead. Let's wait for a straight patch of road. I do not wish to cause an accident."
A mile further on seemed suitable. The Trom Girl aimed the tuning fork, turned up a dial and the hum increased in pitch until it was actively unpleasant. Ahead of them, the white SUV slowed and rolled to a stop. "Perfect," she announced. At twenty-eight, with her thin figure and foxlike inquisitive face under a mop of thick black hair, Megan looked quite a bit younger than she was and so was sometimes still asked for ID because people suspected she was a minor. She gave Archie a conspiratatorial wink. "Neatly done."
Archie pulled over behind the stalled SUV and put his own emergency flashers on. "How long until their engine starts up again?"
"Six minutes and twenty seconds from... now." Megan vaulted out of her door as nimbly as any gymnast. She had developed the habit of wearing Archie's red flannel shirts over her own clothes, their bottom edge reaching almost to her knees. Her claim was that this allowed her to conceal more Trom gizmos clamped to her belt but Archie figured she just enjoyed wearing the big shirts.
"Hi," she sang out cheerfully as she approached the two women in the SUV. Painted on the side of the vehicle in ornate red and blue lettering were the words LADY MELIKARNES with PSYCHIC READINGS- COUNSELING, PAST LIFE EXPERIENCES beneath the name. There was an abstract image of a human eye casting light down upon the planet Earth.
Megan came over to the driver's window as it slid down. "We saw you stall out. My boyfriend's a mechanic. If you pop the hood, I'm sure he'll have you back on the road in no time."
From the passenger seat, a dry elderly voice snapped, "You know there is nothing wrong, young one. It was you who caused our vehicle to stop working!" Peering out with venomous anger was a withered old woman bundled in a black fur coat with the collar up. Her white hair was done up in an elaborate bun with a silver pin holding it in place. The angular face, with its sunken cheeks, beaked nose and prominent chin almost meeting was so much like a stereotyped witch's face that it would have seemed comical except for the anger stamped deeply on it.
"What?" asked the Trom Girl, for once taken completely off guard. "I don't.. what do you...?"
From behind the steering wheel, the younger woman chimed in. She was maybe a ripe thirty, with full lips under a strong acquiline nose and oblique dark eyes. Her thick black hair fell down way past her shoulders in tight curls. The woman was wearing a frilly white off-the-shoulders peasant blouse that displayed an impressive bust which reached the steering wheel as she sat there. "What is your interest in us, hey? Maybe you are looking for trouble, little girl?"
Coming up to loom up behind Megan, Archie was an imposing bulk. He did not say anything, but just stayed next to her for support.
"Very well," the Trom Girl answered in her normal clinical tones again. "You are not Gypsies... that is, Romani. The truth is that you are members of the Calveron. Sometimes you are known as "the ones apart", descendants of Darthan servants who learned some of their masters' dark arts."
The women in the SUV exchanged startled glances before the younger one answered, "That is not common knowledge!"
"I am a Tel Shai knight," Megan answered. "And a Trom."
"I see. So? You have access to much wisdom that is dangerous to learn, then. Yes. We let normal Humans think we are only what they call Gypsies. It keeps our existence secret a little longer. But it is we, the Calveron, who truly have magick spells and powers, not the shoddy trickery of the Romani. We are, you might say, sharks hiding in a school of tuna. Wolves in a pack of sheep."
Megan placed her fists on her narrow hips, but despite her stern tones, she was not an intimidating sight. "I wanted to ask you about three brothers you encountered last week. The Felton boys. Ray, Stu and Horace. You remember them?"
"I remember what they said to me..." hissed the younger woman with her eyes almost closed.
"My Lopera is not a whore!" snapped the old woman. "To ask if she would go in the back of this car with those men, one at a time! It was a blood insult that can only be erased with blood."
The Trom Girl leaned in closer, trying not to sound antagonistic. "What they said was wrong and insulting. I know they had been drinking that night. They should never have said such a thing but still, no one deserves death for mere words." She met the burning glare of the young woman, Lopera, without flinching. "Two of them have wives, one has three little sons. It's not too late to forgive them."
"Forgive? That is not a word the Calveron know," Lopera spat at her. "Our memories are long and bitter. And the spell has been cast in any case, it cannot be undone."
"One shall die by a crown, one by a fall, one by a stone," cackled the old woman. "None of these will be what they expect!" She chuckled and hugged herself with glee.
Megan bent until her face was almost inside the vehicle. "Please. I don't know these men. I've never met them. But to die for foolish drunken words is so unjust."
The SUV motor started up again. Lopera shifted it into drive and gave Megan a final withering stare. "My pride has been fouled. It will be cleansed."
"By a crown, a fall and a stone!" the mother added wickedly. "Heh heh, let us go, my dear."
Just as the SUV started to move, Megan Salenger said, "We will meet again." And there was such quiet, unthreatening determination in her young voice that both of the Calveron gave her an uneasy glance as they roared off.
.II.
After the SUV was gone from sight, Archie glanced down at his partner. "I'm sure you got the license plate number, right?"
"More than that," she answered. "I memorized more than a hundred facial details on both of them, from ear whorls to distance between tear ducts. I can identify them." The Trom Girl took her lover by the arm and squeezed. "And I assume you placed the tracker on their vehicle?"
"Sure. It's magnetic, easiest thing to stick inside a wheel well. That signal is good for a couple hundred miles. We'll be able to find them." He turned and headed back to where the cherry-red Wrangler still stood. "What was that about the Gypsies not being real magic, it's these Calveron folks?"
"Oh. That is Midnight War lore. The Calveron are not exactly Human. By this point, they have become a long-lived Race of their own with a low birth rate and limited prospects for future generations. Originally, they were supposed to have started as servants of the Darthim, surreptitiously picking up some gralic secrets they still use." Megan stood by the driver's door. "Would you mind driving, Archie? I have several sequences of thought to pursue simultaneously."
"Not a problem, hon." He grabbed the bar over the door and swung himself up behind the wheel. As they both buckled in, the Trom Girl continued, "As far as anyone knows, the Calveron have been living as outsiders in many countries for generations. They are not true Gypsies, but pose as such.. and they allow Humans to think of them as mere Gypsies."
Checking his mirrors, Archie eased out onto the highway. An unpleasantly hot, muggy day in early September, and here he was chasing magicians who posed as Gypsies...! Aloud, he said, "And these three fools who insulted that babe at the wheel?"
"The mother placed them under a death curse," Megan answered directly. "With Romani, I would not take such a threat seriously. But these are the Calveron. They know Darthan magic." She turned her head to watch Archie's profile as he sped along. "We received a call from one of the Felton brothers last night. He knew about the KDF somehow and that we investigate the occult."
"So you came to the Harley shop and grabbed me for another 'Trom Girl Mystery,'" he said. "Man, I'm glad. This beats doing detail work on a shovelhead any day. But honestly, Meg, you're acting too serious, even for you. Something you haven't told me?"
She was still gazing right at him in that unsettling way she sometimes had. "The oldest of the Feltons, Ray, died yesterday. He was eating corn on the cob behind his house and choked to death. No one was there at the moment, his wife found him when it was too late."
"Choked on corn on the cob?" repeated Archie.
"Not exactly. A piece of dental work broke off and lodged in his windpipe. He was killed by a crown."
After a long moment of silence, Archie groaned, "Oh come ON! That's like a punchline. When the witch said he would die by a crown, I figured she meant, you know, a crown like royalty wear. Not a dental crown."
"She also said, 'none of these will be what they expect.' I don't know what to conclude. I guess the Calderon include puns in their curses. It's disturbing because that makes it harder to defend against the threat. Turn right at the intersection coming up, I-112, okay?"
"Got it. So that was why the other Felton brother called the KDF?"
"Yes," Megan said. "He had read about us somewhere. Sable has most of the team heading into Okali for a mission but I requested to be assigned this." Her face broke into a grin as if she could not restrain it anymore. "Sable shook me by the shoulders and said, 'Megan, I know you love your mystery-solving with your sweetie."
Archie reached over and patted her hands, which were folded sedately in her lap. "She's got your number, Megs. So where to?"
"The two remaining Felton brothers live in the same town of Schuyler, twenty-three miles from here. We will try to protect them."
Archie jerked a thumb to the West, where the sky was purple with heavy clouds. "That storm has been building up all day, hon. I hope we clear this up before it breaks."
The town of Schuyler had a post office and a firehouse almost within sight of each other, but nothing else, not even a two-pump old-style gas station. It was just miles of Main Street lined with small houses and with the occasional side rOAD splitting off to reveal more of the same. On the outskirts of town, just before a steep hill, was a new Wild West-styled building with pine board walls and two flags on poles. On a metal stand was the sign SCHUYLER ROD AND GUN CLUB. Tacked on one side was a large piece of posterboard BIG BBQ SUNDAY!
Grabbing Archie by the arm, Megan abruptly barked, "Pull in there!" Despite the urgency in her voice, he remembered to check his surroundings before making any quick turns. She had gotten him in near accidents before with her sudden changes of course. There were two pick-up trucks and a Suzuki motorcycle parked near the building's entrance ramp.
"Aw, that rice-burner? You know how I feel about Japanese bikes," he grumbled. But he was merely teasing her. Megan Salenger had already leaped out of her seat and was leaning back in the open door to get his attention.
"I recognize the truck Ray drives," she told him. "That is it right there. License plate matches. Archie, I want you to proceed up this road for another 3.5 miles. There will be a white house on the right hand side, with a trampoline in the back yard. You should find the third brother there. Protect him from the Calveron curse." With that, she slammed the Jeep door and started heading for the Rod And Gun club with her usual determined stride.
"And just how do I do that?" he demanded.
"I trust you to use Human creativity," she called back as she walked away. There was no irony in her voice. Archie exhaled angrily, then decided to make the most of it. There was no use worrying about her. Despite her size, she had ten years of Kumundu training under Teacher Chael and he had seen her plow through a surly crowd with just her open hands. He had to admit she would be more useful in an all-out brawl than he would.
Archie pulled out on to Main Street again and headed up a steep hill that made him consider downshifting before it leveled off.
The houses were spaced out further apart up here. He checked the Jeep's odometer and sure enough, there was the house at exactly 3.5 miles. He should be used by now to Megan just seeming to glance at maps and remember every detail months later. In the back yard was indeed a trampoline, as well as A picnic table and benches made of stained redwood. In one corner of the yard stood a willow tree by a stream that ran along the boundary. The tree was immense, quite a bit taller than the house, but evidently very old. As Archie pulled over by the side of the road, the rising wind stirred the willow branches and whipped them about.
Stretched out under the willow tree was a pudgy man in plaid shorts and a huge black T-shirt. He was lying on a blanket with his hands folded across his midriff. As Archie got out of the Jeep, he closed the door louder than usual to make sure the man was aware of his presence.
Raising a sunburned moonface, blinking in annoyance, he yelled, "Somethin' I can help you with, neighbor?"
"I'm not sure," Archie said honestly. "I'm from the Kenneth Dred Foundation, your brother contacted us. It's about those Gypsy women. We've heard some complaints about them all over the county. I'm sorry to hear about your brother."
"Hell yes, there's a connection!" roared the man. His cheeks were almost purple with engorged blood and Archie wondered if he was taking any blood pressure medicine. "That goddam old hag said Ray would die from a crown and he sure enough did.. a crown off his tooth. If I see those witches again, they're saying hello to my shotgun and I'll worry about the law later." He hesitated. "But you haven't come to laugh, have you?"
"No. I take this sort of thing very seriously. The old woman predicted your death would come from a fall?"
"That's right," said the Felton brother. "Poor Ray. What a stupid pointless way to die? And for what? The way the young Gypsy was displaying everything she had, dropping hints that good stuff was available... I bet if the ol' gramma wasn't there, the young one would have happy to have made some quick money that night."
Rain started splattering Archie's face, cold heavy drops. The wind was rising. "I've been expecting this storm all day."
"Let it rain," grumbled Stu. He reached over for a waterproof tarp he had rolled up next to him. "I'm not takin' any chances. I'm not getting up, I'm not going in the house. When my old lady comes back tonight with the kids, she can bring me a sandwich and a beer. No 'fall' is gonna get me, I'll make a liar of those Gypsy animals." He pulled the tarp over his lower body. "By God, I'll meet them again some day."
The rain was picking up. Archie heard thunder nearby, rolling low and deep but he had not seen any lightning. "I'm gonna check with my partner," he said. "We want to keep an eye on Horace."
"Good thinking," Stu grumbled as he covered his face from the suddenly heavy rain. "That boy never had much sense, to be honest."
Hiking back through the yard up to the road, Archie McAllister hauled himself up into the driver's seat. He needed the wipers on. Damn these summer storms. The big mechanic looked in all directions before swinging the Jeep around in a U-turn to head back the way he came. As he was doing this, a loud sharp crack was followed by a muffled grunt and his heart almost stopped.
Putting the Jeep in gear, Archie stared down at Stu Felton lying right where he had been. A branch of the willow tree that must have weighed more than one hundred pounds had impaled him, its jagged pointed edge caving in his face. There was no point in looking for signs of life.
The ding of small hail sounded on his windshield. Suddenly more alarmed than ever, he peeled out and sped down the hill toward the Rod and Gun Club, worried not so much for Horace Felton as he was over Megan.
IV.
The storm was all but over during the few minutes he took to return to the Schuyler Rod and Gun Club. He felt sick when he saw the cluster of men standing at the rear of the building, gathered in an inward-facing circle. Two feet could be seen protruding from the crowd. Even as he slowed, he saw Megan running right to him. She yanked open the passenger door and hopped up in the seat like a squirrel, already tugging the strap down across her chest.
Without waiting for explanations, Archie turned east on Main Street and headed back the way they had entered town. Nearby, the siren went off at the firehouse. Some one had called 911.
"You go first," Megan said quietly.
"Okay," said Archie and he explained what had happened. "So, Stu Fenton did die in a 'fall,' just not from him falling himself. I thought this Calveron business was just nonsense but I'm a believer now." He glanced over at his partner. "What happened over there?"
The Trom Girl sounded tense, very unusual for her. "I located Horace Fenton, the youngest brother. He was seated at the base of a maple tree behind the Club building. Along with two of his friends, he was eating a cheeseburger and potato salad off paper plates. They were drinking beer and he had a plastic cup of soda. I did not have time to introduce myself."
From a side road, a red pick-up truck whipped by with the blue lightbar of a volunteer flashing. A few minutes earlier, that man had been stretched in front of his TV and now he rushed, unpaid, to where someone was in critical danger. Archie nodded a salute to the man.
"Fenton and his friends were discussing sports when I approached," Megan continued. "I was about to introduce myself and explain my purpose when the storm broke. As the first small particles of hail began to fall, Fenton rose quickly. He said, 'Hail. Hailstones!' and began to run off the field toward the parking lot. His foot seemed to slip. He fell face down with considerable force and struck his head on the stone bumper which marks where they park their cars."
"Oh my God," Archie grumbled. "HailSTONES! That was enough to panic him."
"I did not tell the others but Fenton died within three minutes. The cranial damage was severe. Someone pulled out his cell phone to call for help and that was when I saw you arrive." Megan reached up and unwound a small sigil which hung on a gold chain from the rearview mirror between them. It was a delicate, eight-spoked wheel crafted of what seemed to be white gold. The Trom Girl untangled the chain and carefully placed it over Archie's head as he drove.
"I want you to wear this for now," she told him. "The Wheel is the symbol of the Order of Tel Shai. 'The spokes turn but the hub is at rest.' And it was made of ensalir, silver enchanted by the immortal Eldarin themselves." She tucked it inside his shirt and visibly relaxed. "There. Now I feel better."
"So, wait, what? This protects me against those witches?"
"Yes. I have worn it against deadly enemies many times." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek gently. "You are under the shield of Elvedal, my love." With that, she unbuckled her restraints and scrambled between the front seats into the rear compartment of the Jeep.
"Whoa, wait, you KNOW you're not supposed to do that!" he yelped. "Let me at least pull over for a second."
"I am fine, do not worry," came her voice from the back. There was rustling and latches unlocking and the scuffle of someone changing clothes in a tight area.
"We'll be heading right for that storm," he said.
"That's nice," Megan answered in a way that showed she was not listening. The sound of zippers and snaps came through clearly. In a second, her black-gloved hand placed a visored helmet in front of him. "Can you hold this, dear?"
"Sure, not a problem." Archie placed the helmet in his lap and slowed down as he realized she was wiggling back into the passenger seat again. He came to a rolling halt as she got herself settled. The Trom Girl was now wearing the full KDF field suit used on their combat missions. Heavy boots, snug pants of tough material and a waist-length jacket with its own inner layer of the silk-thin armor. Concealed in various pockets and pouches were a dozen small weapons and gimmicks.
"Oh, I haven't seen that outfit in a while," Archie said as he accelerated again.
"Hmm. Yes, I like to keep KDF assigments separate from these 'Trom Girl Mysteries,' as everyone calls them." She adjusted a flat metal disc between her shoulder blades, with its controls duplicated both on her cuffs and on a shoulder epaulet. "I even broke the gravity shield out of storage."
"That thing gives me the willies..." Archie mumbled. It was raining heavily outside by now. He got into gear and headed up the mountain again well within the speed limit.
Taking the helmet and lowering it over her head, Megan slid the visor down. Pale green readout figures showed on the inside of the visor. "Infra-red, check. Telescopic function, check. Everything seems nominal." She thumbed the center of the right ear pod and the visor slid up on its internal track.
"Archie," she said uncertainly. "I am not happy about what needs to be done tonight. What do you think?"
"Yeah, well, the police are no help. If we go to them and explain that three men died because of a so-called Gypsy curse, they'll have a good laugh. A judge would cite us for contempt and wasting the court's time."
Megan was silent for a moment. "I could.. I suppose.. pass the burden to my KDF team. Sable would order our knights to go after these Calderon. Jeremy would make sure they did not escape. then But I would be, I don't know the phrase, not doing my duty? Chickening out?"
"It's a hard decision to make," he told her. "I don't think I could do it. But I'm not a Tel Shai knight."
"I have decided." She took her Link from its holster on her belt and adjusted its controls. "There's the blip. Their vehicle is forty-six miles ahead of us heading due east. They are driving quickly despite the rain."
Archie nodded and squeezed her shoulder more tightly than he realized. "Might as well get this over with."
"Those two Calveron have murdered three men today through gralic means. There is nothing to prevent them from doing so again, whenever they see fit." As she slid the visor shut with a click, her voice still came clearly through a speaker in the helmet's mandible. "Please proceed at this reasonable rate, Archie. We are going into higher elevations and the road might be slick. You can reach my helmet from your cell phone, I am One on your speed dial."
With that, she casually forced her door open and dove out into the gloom. The rushing air over the moving vehicle slammed the door shut again. Despite all his experience with her, despite his intellectual realization that she was fine, Archie slammed on the brakes and was out of the Jeep in an instant himself. He looked frantically up and down the deserted road but saw nothing of course. By this point, Megan Salenger was soaring at tree-top level miles ahead of him.
Trying to catch his breath, the big mechanic plopped back into the driver's seat and shivered. It was a wonder she hadn't turned all his hair white by now. He had scoffed when Megan had told him that he was her first boyfriend, but he could believe it after seeing some of the heart-stopping stunts she pulled. She would have given most boyfriends heart attacks. No other cars had been in sight for a while. Archie started rolling up the side of the mountain as his adrenalin level dropped to normal.
Through the cold rain, Megan glided silently within the unseen bubble of force provided by her gravity shield. She held her body like a diver, her back slightly arched and arms out ahead of her to help steer by deflecting air resistance. Through the light enhancing function of her visor, she could see clearly and she passed over the white SUV holding the two Calderon without their spotting her.
Rushing ahead to find an appropriate spot, the Trom Girl felt no rage, no determination to avenge the three murdered men. She did not seem to have that emotion. Instead, she was just firmly determined to carry out her duty. Seeing a sharp curve in the road with a steep ravine on its outer side, Megan dropped her legs down and cut the power to the gravity shield. Her boots touched the slick road surface as lightly as if she were stepping down off a curb. The Trom Girl positioned herself to block sight of a warning sign that had an arrow pointing to the left, drew off her helmet and waited. She took a deep unsteady breath.
Immediately, the white SUV came barreling up the road. Megan stood where she was, open palm held out in a warning gesture. "Stop your ve-" she started to yell but as the SUV sped up and veered to head directly at her, the Trom Girl shot twenty feet straight up into the air. The SUV knocked the warning sign aside and plunged down the side of the ravine, tumbling end over end.
Howering above the trees, Megan sealed her helmet back on and surveyed the twisted wreckage at the bottom of the drop. The vehicle was a total loss. She adjusted her suit's sensors but the readout on her visor reported no active life forms. Still, she had to see for herself. She dove down, alighted near the ruin and verified that both Calveroni were dead. It seemed to have at least been quick.
Rising up into the air again and then swooping onto the road, Megan twisted her left ear pod two clicks clockwise and patched into the local phone network. A second later, Archie's voice sounded in her ear, "Yeah, Meg? What's the situation?"
"You will be approaching me within half a mile. Please be careful, there is some icing on the road." When she saw his headlights, she gestured toward a safe spot to pull over. He hurried to her and she grabbed hold of him as if he were an anchor.
"They saw me by the side of the road right there," she explained. Megan slid up her visor so he could see her expressions. "The younger one recognized me. Archie, she deliberately tried to run me down."
He grunted non-commitally. "And instead they both went off the road. Instant Karma's gonna get you. I assume they didn't survive a drop like that?"
"No. I checked. They are both dead." She gave him a tighter squeeze before releasing him. "I wish we could have had them simply arrested. I wish there had been another way, Archie."
He kept a solid arm around her shoulders as he led her away from the scene. "After what they got away with? And who knows how many times they've done that before because someone offended them? There was no other way, honey."
"I suppose you're right," she said. "I'm just not happy about any of it." She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of a gloved hand. "My Trom counselors wanted to subdue Human emotion in me as much as they could. Well, they did a poor job. Maybe Humans can't live without feelings."
As they reached the Wrangler, Archie rubbed her upper back comfortingly. "Tell you what. I'll be happy if you just get back in the Jeep less dramatically than the way you exit it!"
3/1/2016
(A Trom Girl Mystery)
9/22/2007
I.
Along the back roads up near Buffalo, Archie McAllister pushed the red Jeep Wrangler a bit faster. He had no trouble keeping the white SUV with its little trailer in sight, since it wasn't going particularly fast, but Megan had asked him to draw closer.
They were a mismatched couple at first glance. At six foot two and two hundred and forty pounds, he was almost a foot taller and more than a hundred pounds heavier than his partner. Archie seemed to need a haircut, a shave and some sleep but somehow he always managed to look like that. He was wearing heavy tan work boots, corduroy pants and a denim jacket. The big, scarred hands on the steering wheel were competent and assured.
Sitting next to him, letting him drive for a change, the Trom Girl was fiddling with a gadget she had taken from a metal carrying case on the back seat. It looked much like a small radio except for the tuning fork protruding from one end. With the same seriousness she gave to nearly everything, Megan made some adjustments and showed the barest flicker of satisfaction as the device hummed and a green light flickered on and off.
"Hah! Picking up some progressive rock FM station, right?"
She presented Archie with an affectionate smile. "Oh you. This will allow us to have a conversation with that driver up ahead. Let's wait for a straight patch of road. I do not wish to cause an accident."
A mile further on seemed suitable. The Trom Girl aimed the tuning fork, turned up a dial and the hum increased in pitch until it was actively unpleasant. Ahead of them, the white SUV slowed and rolled to a stop. "Perfect," she announced. At twenty-eight, with her thin figure and foxlike inquisitive face under a mop of thick black hair, Megan looked quite a bit younger than she was and so was sometimes still asked for ID because people suspected she was a minor. She gave Archie a conspiratatorial wink. "Neatly done."
Archie pulled over behind the stalled SUV and put his own emergency flashers on. "How long until their engine starts up again?"
"Six minutes and twenty seconds from... now." Megan vaulted out of her door as nimbly as any gymnast. She had developed the habit of wearing Archie's red flannel shirts over her own clothes, their bottom edge reaching almost to her knees. Her claim was that this allowed her to conceal more Trom gizmos clamped to her belt but Archie figured she just enjoyed wearing the big shirts.
"Hi," she sang out cheerfully as she approached the two women in the SUV. Painted on the side of the vehicle in ornate red and blue lettering were the words LADY MELIKARNES with PSYCHIC READINGS- COUNSELING, PAST LIFE EXPERIENCES beneath the name. There was an abstract image of a human eye casting light down upon the planet Earth.
Megan came over to the driver's window as it slid down. "We saw you stall out. My boyfriend's a mechanic. If you pop the hood, I'm sure he'll have you back on the road in no time."
From the passenger seat, a dry elderly voice snapped, "You know there is nothing wrong, young one. It was you who caused our vehicle to stop working!" Peering out with venomous anger was a withered old woman bundled in a black fur coat with the collar up. Her white hair was done up in an elaborate bun with a silver pin holding it in place. The angular face, with its sunken cheeks, beaked nose and prominent chin almost meeting was so much like a stereotyped witch's face that it would have seemed comical except for the anger stamped deeply on it.
"What?" asked the Trom Girl, for once taken completely off guard. "I don't.. what do you...?"
From behind the steering wheel, the younger woman chimed in. She was maybe a ripe thirty, with full lips under a strong acquiline nose and oblique dark eyes. Her thick black hair fell down way past her shoulders in tight curls. The woman was wearing a frilly white off-the-shoulders peasant blouse that displayed an impressive bust which reached the steering wheel as she sat there. "What is your interest in us, hey? Maybe you are looking for trouble, little girl?"
Coming up to loom up behind Megan, Archie was an imposing bulk. He did not say anything, but just stayed next to her for support.
"Very well," the Trom Girl answered in her normal clinical tones again. "You are not Gypsies... that is, Romani. The truth is that you are members of the Calveron. Sometimes you are known as "the ones apart", descendants of Darthan servants who learned some of their masters' dark arts."
The women in the SUV exchanged startled glances before the younger one answered, "That is not common knowledge!"
"I am a Tel Shai knight," Megan answered. "And a Trom."
"I see. So? You have access to much wisdom that is dangerous to learn, then. Yes. We let normal Humans think we are only what they call Gypsies. It keeps our existence secret a little longer. But it is we, the Calveron, who truly have magick spells and powers, not the shoddy trickery of the Romani. We are, you might say, sharks hiding in a school of tuna. Wolves in a pack of sheep."
Megan placed her fists on her narrow hips, but despite her stern tones, she was not an intimidating sight. "I wanted to ask you about three brothers you encountered last week. The Felton boys. Ray, Stu and Horace. You remember them?"
"I remember what they said to me..." hissed the younger woman with her eyes almost closed.
"My Lopera is not a whore!" snapped the old woman. "To ask if she would go in the back of this car with those men, one at a time! It was a blood insult that can only be erased with blood."
The Trom Girl leaned in closer, trying not to sound antagonistic. "What they said was wrong and insulting. I know they had been drinking that night. They should never have said such a thing but still, no one deserves death for mere words." She met the burning glare of the young woman, Lopera, without flinching. "Two of them have wives, one has three little sons. It's not too late to forgive them."
"Forgive? That is not a word the Calveron know," Lopera spat at her. "Our memories are long and bitter. And the spell has been cast in any case, it cannot be undone."
"One shall die by a crown, one by a fall, one by a stone," cackled the old woman. "None of these will be what they expect!" She chuckled and hugged herself with glee.
Megan bent until her face was almost inside the vehicle. "Please. I don't know these men. I've never met them. But to die for foolish drunken words is so unjust."
The SUV motor started up again. Lopera shifted it into drive and gave Megan a final withering stare. "My pride has been fouled. It will be cleansed."
"By a crown, a fall and a stone!" the mother added wickedly. "Heh heh, let us go, my dear."
Just as the SUV started to move, Megan Salenger said, "We will meet again." And there was such quiet, unthreatening determination in her young voice that both of the Calveron gave her an uneasy glance as they roared off.
.II.
After the SUV was gone from sight, Archie glanced down at his partner. "I'm sure you got the license plate number, right?"
"More than that," she answered. "I memorized more than a hundred facial details on both of them, from ear whorls to distance between tear ducts. I can identify them." The Trom Girl took her lover by the arm and squeezed. "And I assume you placed the tracker on their vehicle?"
"Sure. It's magnetic, easiest thing to stick inside a wheel well. That signal is good for a couple hundred miles. We'll be able to find them." He turned and headed back to where the cherry-red Wrangler still stood. "What was that about the Gypsies not being real magic, it's these Calveron folks?"
"Oh. That is Midnight War lore. The Calveron are not exactly Human. By this point, they have become a long-lived Race of their own with a low birth rate and limited prospects for future generations. Originally, they were supposed to have started as servants of the Darthim, surreptitiously picking up some gralic secrets they still use." Megan stood by the driver's door. "Would you mind driving, Archie? I have several sequences of thought to pursue simultaneously."
"Not a problem, hon." He grabbed the bar over the door and swung himself up behind the wheel. As they both buckled in, the Trom Girl continued, "As far as anyone knows, the Calveron have been living as outsiders in many countries for generations. They are not true Gypsies, but pose as such.. and they allow Humans to think of them as mere Gypsies."
Checking his mirrors, Archie eased out onto the highway. An unpleasantly hot, muggy day in early September, and here he was chasing magicians who posed as Gypsies...! Aloud, he said, "And these three fools who insulted that babe at the wheel?"
"The mother placed them under a death curse," Megan answered directly. "With Romani, I would not take such a threat seriously. But these are the Calveron. They know Darthan magic." She turned her head to watch Archie's profile as he sped along. "We received a call from one of the Felton brothers last night. He knew about the KDF somehow and that we investigate the occult."
"So you came to the Harley shop and grabbed me for another 'Trom Girl Mystery,'" he said. "Man, I'm glad. This beats doing detail work on a shovelhead any day. But honestly, Meg, you're acting too serious, even for you. Something you haven't told me?"
She was still gazing right at him in that unsettling way she sometimes had. "The oldest of the Feltons, Ray, died yesterday. He was eating corn on the cob behind his house and choked to death. No one was there at the moment, his wife found him when it was too late."
"Choked on corn on the cob?" repeated Archie.
"Not exactly. A piece of dental work broke off and lodged in his windpipe. He was killed by a crown."
After a long moment of silence, Archie groaned, "Oh come ON! That's like a punchline. When the witch said he would die by a crown, I figured she meant, you know, a crown like royalty wear. Not a dental crown."
"She also said, 'none of these will be what they expect.' I don't know what to conclude. I guess the Calderon include puns in their curses. It's disturbing because that makes it harder to defend against the threat. Turn right at the intersection coming up, I-112, okay?"
"Got it. So that was why the other Felton brother called the KDF?"
"Yes," Megan said. "He had read about us somewhere. Sable has most of the team heading into Okali for a mission but I requested to be assigned this." Her face broke into a grin as if she could not restrain it anymore. "Sable shook me by the shoulders and said, 'Megan, I know you love your mystery-solving with your sweetie."
Archie reached over and patted her hands, which were folded sedately in her lap. "She's got your number, Megs. So where to?"
"The two remaining Felton brothers live in the same town of Schuyler, twenty-three miles from here. We will try to protect them."
Archie jerked a thumb to the West, where the sky was purple with heavy clouds. "That storm has been building up all day, hon. I hope we clear this up before it breaks."
The town of Schuyler had a post office and a firehouse almost within sight of each other, but nothing else, not even a two-pump old-style gas station. It was just miles of Main Street lined with small houses and with the occasional side rOAD splitting off to reveal more of the same. On the outskirts of town, just before a steep hill, was a new Wild West-styled building with pine board walls and two flags on poles. On a metal stand was the sign SCHUYLER ROD AND GUN CLUB. Tacked on one side was a large piece of posterboard BIG BBQ SUNDAY!
Grabbing Archie by the arm, Megan abruptly barked, "Pull in there!" Despite the urgency in her voice, he remembered to check his surroundings before making any quick turns. She had gotten him in near accidents before with her sudden changes of course. There were two pick-up trucks and a Suzuki motorcycle parked near the building's entrance ramp.
"Aw, that rice-burner? You know how I feel about Japanese bikes," he grumbled. But he was merely teasing her. Megan Salenger had already leaped out of her seat and was leaning back in the open door to get his attention.
"I recognize the truck Ray drives," she told him. "That is it right there. License plate matches. Archie, I want you to proceed up this road for another 3.5 miles. There will be a white house on the right hand side, with a trampoline in the back yard. You should find the third brother there. Protect him from the Calveron curse." With that, she slammed the Jeep door and started heading for the Rod And Gun club with her usual determined stride.
"And just how do I do that?" he demanded.
"I trust you to use Human creativity," she called back as she walked away. There was no irony in her voice. Archie exhaled angrily, then decided to make the most of it. There was no use worrying about her. Despite her size, she had ten years of Kumundu training under Teacher Chael and he had seen her plow through a surly crowd with just her open hands. He had to admit she would be more useful in an all-out brawl than he would.
Archie pulled out on to Main Street again and headed up a steep hill that made him consider downshifting before it leveled off.
The houses were spaced out further apart up here. He checked the Jeep's odometer and sure enough, there was the house at exactly 3.5 miles. He should be used by now to Megan just seeming to glance at maps and remember every detail months later. In the back yard was indeed a trampoline, as well as A picnic table and benches made of stained redwood. In one corner of the yard stood a willow tree by a stream that ran along the boundary. The tree was immense, quite a bit taller than the house, but evidently very old. As Archie pulled over by the side of the road, the rising wind stirred the willow branches and whipped them about.
Stretched out under the willow tree was a pudgy man in plaid shorts and a huge black T-shirt. He was lying on a blanket with his hands folded across his midriff. As Archie got out of the Jeep, he closed the door louder than usual to make sure the man was aware of his presence.
Raising a sunburned moonface, blinking in annoyance, he yelled, "Somethin' I can help you with, neighbor?"
"I'm not sure," Archie said honestly. "I'm from the Kenneth Dred Foundation, your brother contacted us. It's about those Gypsy women. We've heard some complaints about them all over the county. I'm sorry to hear about your brother."
"Hell yes, there's a connection!" roared the man. His cheeks were almost purple with engorged blood and Archie wondered if he was taking any blood pressure medicine. "That goddam old hag said Ray would die from a crown and he sure enough did.. a crown off his tooth. If I see those witches again, they're saying hello to my shotgun and I'll worry about the law later." He hesitated. "But you haven't come to laugh, have you?"
"No. I take this sort of thing very seriously. The old woman predicted your death would come from a fall?"
"That's right," said the Felton brother. "Poor Ray. What a stupid pointless way to die? And for what? The way the young Gypsy was displaying everything she had, dropping hints that good stuff was available... I bet if the ol' gramma wasn't there, the young one would have happy to have made some quick money that night."
Rain started splattering Archie's face, cold heavy drops. The wind was rising. "I've been expecting this storm all day."
"Let it rain," grumbled Stu. He reached over for a waterproof tarp he had rolled up next to him. "I'm not takin' any chances. I'm not getting up, I'm not going in the house. When my old lady comes back tonight with the kids, she can bring me a sandwich and a beer. No 'fall' is gonna get me, I'll make a liar of those Gypsy animals." He pulled the tarp over his lower body. "By God, I'll meet them again some day."
The rain was picking up. Archie heard thunder nearby, rolling low and deep but he had not seen any lightning. "I'm gonna check with my partner," he said. "We want to keep an eye on Horace."
"Good thinking," Stu grumbled as he covered his face from the suddenly heavy rain. "That boy never had much sense, to be honest."
Hiking back through the yard up to the road, Archie McAllister hauled himself up into the driver's seat. He needed the wipers on. Damn these summer storms. The big mechanic looked in all directions before swinging the Jeep around in a U-turn to head back the way he came. As he was doing this, a loud sharp crack was followed by a muffled grunt and his heart almost stopped.
Putting the Jeep in gear, Archie stared down at Stu Felton lying right where he had been. A branch of the willow tree that must have weighed more than one hundred pounds had impaled him, its jagged pointed edge caving in his face. There was no point in looking for signs of life.
The ding of small hail sounded on his windshield. Suddenly more alarmed than ever, he peeled out and sped down the hill toward the Rod and Gun Club, worried not so much for Horace Felton as he was over Megan.
IV.
The storm was all but over during the few minutes he took to return to the Schuyler Rod and Gun Club. He felt sick when he saw the cluster of men standing at the rear of the building, gathered in an inward-facing circle. Two feet could be seen protruding from the crowd. Even as he slowed, he saw Megan running right to him. She yanked open the passenger door and hopped up in the seat like a squirrel, already tugging the strap down across her chest.
Without waiting for explanations, Archie turned east on Main Street and headed back the way they had entered town. Nearby, the siren went off at the firehouse. Some one had called 911.
"You go first," Megan said quietly.
"Okay," said Archie and he explained what had happened. "So, Stu Fenton did die in a 'fall,' just not from him falling himself. I thought this Calveron business was just nonsense but I'm a believer now." He glanced over at his partner. "What happened over there?"
The Trom Girl sounded tense, very unusual for her. "I located Horace Fenton, the youngest brother. He was seated at the base of a maple tree behind the Club building. Along with two of his friends, he was eating a cheeseburger and potato salad off paper plates. They were drinking beer and he had a plastic cup of soda. I did not have time to introduce myself."
From a side road, a red pick-up truck whipped by with the blue lightbar of a volunteer flashing. A few minutes earlier, that man had been stretched in front of his TV and now he rushed, unpaid, to where someone was in critical danger. Archie nodded a salute to the man.
"Fenton and his friends were discussing sports when I approached," Megan continued. "I was about to introduce myself and explain my purpose when the storm broke. As the first small particles of hail began to fall, Fenton rose quickly. He said, 'Hail. Hailstones!' and began to run off the field toward the parking lot. His foot seemed to slip. He fell face down with considerable force and struck his head on the stone bumper which marks where they park their cars."
"Oh my God," Archie grumbled. "HailSTONES! That was enough to panic him."
"I did not tell the others but Fenton died within three minutes. The cranial damage was severe. Someone pulled out his cell phone to call for help and that was when I saw you arrive." Megan reached up and unwound a small sigil which hung on a gold chain from the rearview mirror between them. It was a delicate, eight-spoked wheel crafted of what seemed to be white gold. The Trom Girl untangled the chain and carefully placed it over Archie's head as he drove.
"I want you to wear this for now," she told him. "The Wheel is the symbol of the Order of Tel Shai. 'The spokes turn but the hub is at rest.' And it was made of ensalir, silver enchanted by the immortal Eldarin themselves." She tucked it inside his shirt and visibly relaxed. "There. Now I feel better."
"So, wait, what? This protects me against those witches?"
"Yes. I have worn it against deadly enemies many times." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek gently. "You are under the shield of Elvedal, my love." With that, she unbuckled her restraints and scrambled between the front seats into the rear compartment of the Jeep.
"Whoa, wait, you KNOW you're not supposed to do that!" he yelped. "Let me at least pull over for a second."
"I am fine, do not worry," came her voice from the back. There was rustling and latches unlocking and the scuffle of someone changing clothes in a tight area.
"We'll be heading right for that storm," he said.
"That's nice," Megan answered in a way that showed she was not listening. The sound of zippers and snaps came through clearly. In a second, her black-gloved hand placed a visored helmet in front of him. "Can you hold this, dear?"
"Sure, not a problem." Archie placed the helmet in his lap and slowed down as he realized she was wiggling back into the passenger seat again. He came to a rolling halt as she got herself settled. The Trom Girl was now wearing the full KDF field suit used on their combat missions. Heavy boots, snug pants of tough material and a waist-length jacket with its own inner layer of the silk-thin armor. Concealed in various pockets and pouches were a dozen small weapons and gimmicks.
"Oh, I haven't seen that outfit in a while," Archie said as he accelerated again.
"Hmm. Yes, I like to keep KDF assigments separate from these 'Trom Girl Mysteries,' as everyone calls them." She adjusted a flat metal disc between her shoulder blades, with its controls duplicated both on her cuffs and on a shoulder epaulet. "I even broke the gravity shield out of storage."
"That thing gives me the willies..." Archie mumbled. It was raining heavily outside by now. He got into gear and headed up the mountain again well within the speed limit.
Taking the helmet and lowering it over her head, Megan slid the visor down. Pale green readout figures showed on the inside of the visor. "Infra-red, check. Telescopic function, check. Everything seems nominal." She thumbed the center of the right ear pod and the visor slid up on its internal track.
"Archie," she said uncertainly. "I am not happy about what needs to be done tonight. What do you think?"
"Yeah, well, the police are no help. If we go to them and explain that three men died because of a so-called Gypsy curse, they'll have a good laugh. A judge would cite us for contempt and wasting the court's time."
Megan was silent for a moment. "I could.. I suppose.. pass the burden to my KDF team. Sable would order our knights to go after these Calderon. Jeremy would make sure they did not escape. then But I would be, I don't know the phrase, not doing my duty? Chickening out?"
"It's a hard decision to make," he told her. "I don't think I could do it. But I'm not a Tel Shai knight."
"I have decided." She took her Link from its holster on her belt and adjusted its controls. "There's the blip. Their vehicle is forty-six miles ahead of us heading due east. They are driving quickly despite the rain."
Archie nodded and squeezed her shoulder more tightly than he realized. "Might as well get this over with."
"Those two Calveron have murdered three men today through gralic means. There is nothing to prevent them from doing so again, whenever they see fit." As she slid the visor shut with a click, her voice still came clearly through a speaker in the helmet's mandible. "Please proceed at this reasonable rate, Archie. We are going into higher elevations and the road might be slick. You can reach my helmet from your cell phone, I am One on your speed dial."
With that, she casually forced her door open and dove out into the gloom. The rushing air over the moving vehicle slammed the door shut again. Despite all his experience with her, despite his intellectual realization that she was fine, Archie slammed on the brakes and was out of the Jeep in an instant himself. He looked frantically up and down the deserted road but saw nothing of course. By this point, Megan Salenger was soaring at tree-top level miles ahead of him.
Trying to catch his breath, the big mechanic plopped back into the driver's seat and shivered. It was a wonder she hadn't turned all his hair white by now. He had scoffed when Megan had told him that he was her first boyfriend, but he could believe it after seeing some of the heart-stopping stunts she pulled. She would have given most boyfriends heart attacks. No other cars had been in sight for a while. Archie started rolling up the side of the mountain as his adrenalin level dropped to normal.
Through the cold rain, Megan glided silently within the unseen bubble of force provided by her gravity shield. She held her body like a diver, her back slightly arched and arms out ahead of her to help steer by deflecting air resistance. Through the light enhancing function of her visor, she could see clearly and she passed over the white SUV holding the two Calderon without their spotting her.
Rushing ahead to find an appropriate spot, the Trom Girl felt no rage, no determination to avenge the three murdered men. She did not seem to have that emotion. Instead, she was just firmly determined to carry out her duty. Seeing a sharp curve in the road with a steep ravine on its outer side, Megan dropped her legs down and cut the power to the gravity shield. Her boots touched the slick road surface as lightly as if she were stepping down off a curb. The Trom Girl positioned herself to block sight of a warning sign that had an arrow pointing to the left, drew off her helmet and waited. She took a deep unsteady breath.
Immediately, the white SUV came barreling up the road. Megan stood where she was, open palm held out in a warning gesture. "Stop your ve-" she started to yell but as the SUV sped up and veered to head directly at her, the Trom Girl shot twenty feet straight up into the air. The SUV knocked the warning sign aside and plunged down the side of the ravine, tumbling end over end.
Howering above the trees, Megan sealed her helmet back on and surveyed the twisted wreckage at the bottom of the drop. The vehicle was a total loss. She adjusted her suit's sensors but the readout on her visor reported no active life forms. Still, she had to see for herself. She dove down, alighted near the ruin and verified that both Calveroni were dead. It seemed to have at least been quick.
Rising up into the air again and then swooping onto the road, Megan twisted her left ear pod two clicks clockwise and patched into the local phone network. A second later, Archie's voice sounded in her ear, "Yeah, Meg? What's the situation?"
"You will be approaching me within half a mile. Please be careful, there is some icing on the road." When she saw his headlights, she gestured toward a safe spot to pull over. He hurried to her and she grabbed hold of him as if he were an anchor.
"They saw me by the side of the road right there," she explained. Megan slid up her visor so he could see her expressions. "The younger one recognized me. Archie, she deliberately tried to run me down."
He grunted non-commitally. "And instead they both went off the road. Instant Karma's gonna get you. I assume they didn't survive a drop like that?"
"No. I checked. They are both dead." She gave him a tighter squeeze before releasing him. "I wish we could have had them simply arrested. I wish there had been another way, Archie."
He kept a solid arm around her shoulders as he led her away from the scene. "After what they got away with? And who knows how many times they've done that before because someone offended them? There was no other way, honey."
"I suppose you're right," she said. "I'm just not happy about any of it." She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of a gloved hand. "My Trom counselors wanted to subdue Human emotion in me as much as they could. Well, they did a poor job. Maybe Humans can't live without feelings."
As they reached the Wrangler, Archie rubbed her upper back comfortingly. "Tell you what. I'll be happy if you just get back in the Jeep less dramatically than the way you exit it!"
3/1/2016
