Wednesday, 22 May 2019, Evening
Paxwood, Whatcom County, Washington, USA
Eyewitness: Kerry
You’re here to learn about the people who broke the world and the people who saved it, not the minutiae of a city council meeting to discuss a property sale—especially a closed-door meeting where everyone said and did what you’d expect them to say and do. Rowen made her case; Anholts and Hugh made theirs. City council members asked a variety of questions that ranged from incredibly dumb to piercingly insightful, and the final vote would occur during the next public meeting on Tuesday, May 28th. Closed-door as it was, there were no quirky Paxwood personalities arguing that local parks should sell ham and mayonnaise sandwiches at the refreshment stands during summer little league games.
If you want that presentation play-by-play, you can pull up the minutes and the video recording of the meeting on the Paxwood City Council website. I love the nitty gritty, personally, but a thrilling narrative it is not.
Closed door meeting as it was, Mx. Cardoso couldn’t attend. They were probably spending the evening with their family, and I’d catch them up in the morning if Rowen didn’t before me.
As everyone began parting ways after the meeting ended, I stood torn between at least walking Rowen to her car or catching a ride home with my mother. No guarantee my mother would be around long enough if I dawdled. She had a schedule to keep, and I was old enough to take care of myself. Before I had to make my choice, though, my mother walked up to Rowen in the city hall lobby.
“Insightful presentation,” she said. “You seem to understand what’s at the heart of a city like Paxwood. Community, standing up next to each other, taking care of our youth.”
“I’ve always cared about community, from the time I was little,” Rowen said. “And, in a lot of ways, my communities have always taken care of me. This is my way to give back, and I hope I can do it here.”
“My daughter’s been preparing you to win me over, hasn’t she?”
“Kerry has been a big help,” Rowen said.
“And her ears are burning.” I stepped in to form a little triangle with the two women. “Turning a historic site into a youth center that welcomes residents and sponsors events for traveling youth leaders would enrich the community, not just make a few people with deep pockets richer.”
“Let’s talk again before next Tuesday,” my mother said to Rowen. Whether she was ignoring my tagline or allowing it to speak for itself, I couldn’t tell.
Rowen’s gaze shifted past my mother. Anholts and Hugh were also rubbing elbows with city council members. In fact, Anholts was walking away with Curtis Mitchell, a retired math teacher turned city council member. The sweet old man in a tie and cardigan genuinely wanted the world to be a better place, especially for the rising generation. I figured he’d vote our way in a heartbeat.
“I’d like that,” Rowen said. While they set a tentative date and time for their meeting, I tracked Anholts’ progress through the glass door. At least she wasn’t the vampire. At least she wouldn’t be drinking a city council member’s blood, but Mx. Cardoso had said Anholts worked mind magic.
Rowen surprised me with a request as she wrapped up the conversation. “It’s a school night, so I won’t keep her long, but can I borrow your daughter for a little longer?”
“Sure, if she wants,” my mother said, shaking hands with Rowen.
“Math exam tomorrow, so I need plenty of sleep,” I assured her. “See you at home.”
We walked out through the lobby door with my mother, and she continued on to her car, while Rowen paused.
“Anholts went left?” she checked, when my mother was clear.
“Left.” I was sure.
We started along the sidewalk, down the front of the building, around the corner. I didn’t see Anholts or Mitchell anywhere, and from the way Rowen was swiveling her head, neither did she.
“Where would Anholts take him?” she asked.
I took a breath, closed my eyes, and imagined the area around city hall. We turned left out the main entrance. The main entrance faced south, so we were now on the east side of the building. On the other side of the eastern parking lot…
“There’s a little smoking area with a gazebo through the trees, away from the building,” I said, opening my eyes.
The spot was nestled in a copse of evergreen trees. Like a lot of things in Paxwood, the tourist experience was the priority, and city employees taking a smoke break wasn’t aesthetically pleasing. Add a gazebo and some cover foliage, and now you meet the legal requirements for clean indoor air without compromising the appearance of city hall.
Rowen pulled out her keys and offered them to me. “Open my trunk and grab my short sword. Stay out of sight once you’ve got it, unless I call for you. I’ve got a bad feeling, but if I’m wrong, I don’t want to scare Mr. Mitchell there. Either way, I’d rather not have you on the front line.”
“Makes sense.”
I took the keys, grateful for the fob. Rowen drove a newer gray Honda Civic sedan. It wouldn’t stand out in any parking lot, but I could Marco Polo my way to the car with a few beeps. While I hustled to her car, she started toward the gazebo.
Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have ever expected to be retrieving any weapon from the trunk of a car, let alone a sword for a demon slayer. Did this mean she expected that demon slaying would be necessary in this situation? A physical threat, not a mental or magical struggle?
Magic was real. Vampires existed, but Hugh had never flashed fangs at me. Outside of the dog bite, I’d never been in a fight.
Beep, flash, there was Rowen’s car. I popped the trunk and peered inside, trying to imagine what she expected she’d need a sword for. She’d lost her arm in a demon battle, but what did that demon really look like? Or did she expect to use it against Hugh and Anholts themselves?
Rowen clearly knew how to maximize trunk space. There were a couple of duffel bags, a gap that would fit a medium suitcase, and some little fabric organizer bins with jumper cables, a first aid kit, and water for emergencies. She would have told me if I needed to look inside any of her bags, so I skimmed the open spaces. There, tucked long-ways against the edge of the trunk nearest the bumper, rested a simple short sword in a black sheath, about three feet long.
I grabbed it by the hilt, surprised by how very light it felt in my hand. I expected it to be at least as heavy as a textbook or a gallon of milk, but it was more like a light hardback. With very little idea of the correct way to carry a sheathed short sword, I held it at the hilt and about halfway down the sheath, up close to my body so it wouldn’t be as obvious that I was running around the city hall parking lot with a sword. Trust Adrien Morgan to show up and arrest me for possession of a deadly weapon.
My gut twisted. Adrien wouldn’t show up because I’d put him in the hospital.
I would not be the damsel in distress this time, though. Following Rowen’s instructions, I slowed as I approached the copse and stayed out of sight of the opening, but I could hear a conversation unfolding.
“Did you enjoy your visit to the resort?” Anholts was asking.
“I got the information I was looking for,” Rowen said, voice cool. “Now, are you going to drop the spell and let Mr. Mitchell go?”
Anholts laughed, then unfamiliar words slithered over her tongue, almost painful to hear.
Rowen gasped, and I peaked around the trees to see city council member Curtis Mitchell sitting on the gazebo bench with a vacant stare while Rowen clutched at her head. But, after a beat, Rowen laughed, too.
“Just messing with you. The little seed your massage therapist tried to plant didn’t stick. I was expecting something like that, even before Alex Cardoso warned me you’re a mind manipulator.” She straightened up, hand dropping to her side. “Have you heard of the death of the demon prince Veroriax last June? That was me.”
“You killed a demon prince,” Anholts said, incredulous. I expected she was eyeing Rowen’s prosthetic arm.
“He took my arm. I took his life. Not the fairest trade, but I lived. Let Mr. Mitchell go before this gets messy.”
Anholts snapped her fingers, and a few seconds later, Curtis Mitchell emerged from the copse, his expression vacant. I shifted the short sword behind me so that he wouldn’t see it, but he wasn’t really paying attention.
“Mr. Mitchell?”
His eyes cleared as he looked at me. “Kerry Rhys-Hansen?”
“That’s right. You were headed to your car to go home, but you looked a little lost for a second there.”
“Forgetful in my old age, I suppose,” he joked, sounding more like himself. “Good night. Don’t stay out too late.”
“There you go,” Anholts said. “But now you have me curious. I’ll leave you with a little parting gift.”
Again, she murmured something in that horrible language that burned at my ears, and this time I caught a whiff of something sulfurous.
“Kerry! The sword!” Rowen called out.
I stepped into the copse with the sword extended, and she grabbed it from me without looking my way. A cloud of sickly yellow-gray smoke billowed from within the gazebo. Then, the thing emerged. Four jet-black eyes. A long gaping maw, somehow something between a crocodile and a wolf, furry and lined with jagged teeth. It stalked forward on two legs, its arms unsettlingly long, each finger of its grasping hands tipped with black, gleaming claws.
“Have a good night, ladies.” Anholts walked straight past me to the parking lot without a backward glance.
