Wednesday, 22 May 2019, Afternoon
Paxwood, Whatcom County, Washington, USA
Eyewitness: Kerry
I tried not to pay too much attention to who, exactly, Char spent her time with the next day at school. (Nick, Marylee, and TJ—three scholar-athletes who somehow had the time to get straight A’s, compete dependably for their teams, and participate in the class student council. Their names were regular fixtures in the school newspaper and social media feeds. If she wanted to grow up, she could admittedly do worse.) I did not dedicate the better part of a math class trying to puzzle out why she was wearing the cameo necklace if she didn’t want to associate with me or scrolling through selfies we’d taken together on our many adventures. I spent that time studiously preparing for the upcoming unit test.
At the end of the school day, I swung by the shop classroom to find Mx. Cardoso. I waited for them to hand out constructive advice to students working on their latest projects, in no particular rush, completely cool and collected. After Mx. Cardoso sent off the last student with a couple of online video references to help, they came over to where I sat.
“Want to share some of that sour candy with a teacher?” they asked.
I blinked. “What?”
“Either you’ve got some extremely sour candy or you’ve got some bad news, judging from your expression.”
“Oh. It’s… neither.”
Mx. Cardoso gave me a flat look for a silent moment, but they shrugged when I didn’t budge.
“Rowen’s meeting us at the animal shelter. You’re still bicycling to school, aren’t you?”
“Right,” I said.
“Perfect. Let’s roll.” Mx. Cardoso stood, grabbed a bicycle helmet out from nowhere, and led the way out to the bicycle rack.
My brain was three steps behind as Mx. Cardoso unlocked a high-quality Transition bicycle from one end of the rack. I hadn’t really thought of them as a bicycle kind of person because I constantly saw them around cars. But here was proof right before my eyes that they knew a thing or two about bicycles.
“You know I grew up in Paxwood,” Mx. Cardoso said as I unlocked my bicycle. “Most locals have a bicycle stashed away somewhere, even if it’s gathering cobwebs in a shed. Besides, technology and magic don’t always get along well. The magnetic fields can clash, which doesn’t end well if you’re traveling at high speeds. So, yes, I ride bicycles.”
“All the time?” I asked.
Mx. Cardoso snorted. “That would be exhausting. I’ve got enchantments on my vehicles that redirect energy flow and protect them from surges for day-to-day use. Most practitioners worth their salt know similar tricks. If I’m going into a situation where I expect a lot of magic flying around, I’ll play it safe, park nearby, and walk or ride the rest of the way. Today it’s more convenient to travel together at the same pace. That’s all.”
Rowen was leaning against the hood of her car when we arrived.
“So, this dog, why are we following up?”
“Sly had the thought that Silphium might have planted it there. So, we want to see if it’s, you know, an evil dog.” I pressed my lips together, debating whether to share the other part.
“And?” Mx. Cardoso prompted.
“Back in middle school, there was a black dog following me and Char around. I swear it was the same dog, unless my memory is playing tricks on me, but my memory is pretty reliable,” I said.
“It has a notch in one ear, same as the dog back then. Same size, same build. I want to take a closer look.”
“Silphium hasn’t been around that long, and a dog from, what, three years ago, would change with time, besides,” Rowen said. “If they’re involved with the dog, how could it be the same?”
Mx. Cardoso held up a hand. “Before we go spinning theories without analysis of the physical evidence, let’s get eyes on this dog.”
I clenched my jaw at both Rowen and Mx. Cardoso’s dismissal of my idea, especially after Bast’s compliment in my dreams. Once we had the dog in front of us, things would come together. I’d prove myself.
“Hey, Sydney,” I said, coming up to the animal shelter counter with a smile. I’d interviewed Sydney when I was in fifth grade, trying to make the case to convince my parents to let me adopt a dog or cat. Despite an absolutely delightful article about the benefits of pet ownership and the joy that adopting a shelter animal can bring that got me three gold star stickers from my fifth-grade teacher, my parents were unmoved. Since then, she’d gone from shelter volunteer to paid animal care technician, while she was working her way through the classes necessary to become a full-fledged veterinarian. “Oh! Have you applied for the WSU vet program yet? About time, isn’t it?”
“How do you remember everyone?” Sydney asked in return, blue eyes sparkling. “I haven’t seen you in here in a while, and you still somehow know exactly when I ought to be applying for WSU? You’re not internet stalking me, are you?”
“Just an excellent memory,” I said. Maybe that was a little too pointed?
“Sent my application in last week, but they won’t make decisions for a while yet, and it’s a long process. Keep your fingers crossed for me.” Sydney looked past me, at Mx. Cardoso and Rowen.
“So, what brings you all here today?”
“Animal control picked up a dog from Paxwood House yesterday,” I said. “I figured they’d bring the dog here, right?”
“That’s right, they did,” Sydney said. “Poor boy was underweight and in serious need of a bath and some love and care. Probably been on his own for a while.”
“Can we see him? When’s he up for adoption?” I asked.
Sydney raised an eyebrow. “Your parents finally cave in?”
“No, but I’m new in town, and I’ve been thinking about getting a companion,” Rowen said, chiming in. “Kerry convinced me to consider a dog in need.”
“Unfortunately, he’s already been given a home. We have a few others who might win your heart, though.” Sydney rounded the counter, leading the way to the kennels.
A glance at my companions confirmed their intent to follow along. We weren’t just giving up because the dog wasn’t here, then.
“Really?” Mx. Cardoso asked. “But don’t you usually have a waiting period between when an animal is brought to the shelter and when it’s available for adoption? Time to allow for an owner to realize their pet is missing and come looking?”
“That’s right,” Sydney said. “Shouldn’t have happened that way, and I’m honestly miffed. I did an initial physical on arrival, and I wanted to take him to the vet today for a full health check, but when I came in… Well, I’m not going to get into it, but an individual had completed all the adoption paperwork and was approved. Once a dog is out the door, it’s really out of my control.”
“Oh? Who?” I asked.
Sydney waved her hand. “That’s private information, sorry.”
“Was it Tricia Anholts?” I watched her expression, and she definitely flinched at the name.
“I really can’t say,” she said.
For the next twenty minutes, Rowen proved to be a dog person, complete with soothing dog voice and all the appropriate instant compliments and nicknames for these sweet pupperinos and big boofers—her words, not mine. Rowen wrapped it all up by telling Sydney that she had a lot to consider but would be in touch when the time was right.
Our next stop was Maisie’s Diner, and I waited for Mx. Cardoso to do their magic and protect our table from eavesdropping before I leaned in.
“So, if Anholts has the dog, what does that mean?”
“Could mean any number of things,” Mx. Cardoso said. “I’d be willing to bet that she used some magic to grease some wheels so the adoption would happen. Mind magic’s in her wheelhouse.”
“Oh?” Rowen asked.
“We went to high school together. She tried to win over my boyfriend by force. Lucky for both of us, I caught the whammy before it took root, and she backed off,” Mx. Cardoso explained.
“How is Roy, anyway?” I asked.
“Being a Grand Canyon park ranger and loving every minute,” Mx. Cardoso said. They leaned back casually. “I’m not even a bit surprised that she’s even deeper into shady dealings. Rumor in our graduating class had it she probably set the house on fire and killed her parents for the insurance money. I don’t buy into rumor mills, and the investigation didn’t turn anything up, but she’s always been self-centered enough to do harm for her own personal gain.”
“So, if she’s got the dog, she’s probably not going to be giving him tasty treats and belly rubs, is she?” I said, frowning.
“She’s never had pets, so I doubt it,” Mx. Cardoso said.
“This makes following up on the dog a bigger challenge.” Rowen sighed. “It’ll have to wait. There’s bigger business at hand right now. Tonight’s presentation.”
“Right,” I said. “Let’s go over the plan.”
