Ghost Dancer (A Modern Magics Story)
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Authors: Maer Wilson
Ghost Dancer
A Modern Magics Story
Maer Wilson
Ghost Dancer
A Modern Magics Story
Maer Wilson
© Copyright Maer Wilson 2013. All rights reserved.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-941637-07-4
Second Edition
Editor: Jen Ryan,
Imagine That Editing
Cover Art:
M Joseph Murphy
Formatted by:
Rik Hall
Ebooks/Books are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away, as this is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Other Works by the Author
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Dedication
For Trish Rippie
Thanks for believing in me and for your encouragement and support.
Ghost Dancer
“I need you to save my dog,” said the young dead girl who had materialized in front of our desks. “I want to hire you to find him and save him. I can pay you,” she continued, looking from me to my husband, Thulu, her face serious in spite of her young age. No greeting, just straight to the problem at hand.
She looked to be about ten years old, slender, with dark skin and black eyes that were exotic. She wore jeans with a glittery shirt and a pink jacket. Earbuds dangled around her neck and she trailed a scent of burnt rubber and roses. She looked familiar, and I realized I’d seen her face on the news lately. She and her dog had disappeared the week before. There was an Amber Alert out on her, but apparently none of the leads had panned out. I glanced over at Thulu, a sick feeling starting in my stomach. He had already focused on our guest.
We’d been playing a game on our computers, but a client took precedence.
“We’ll be happy to find out what happened to your dog,” I said. “But first, what’s your name?”
“Danika Samms. You’re Thulu and La Fi, right?”
“We are,” I replied as I looked over our young client.
We dealt with the dead and supernatural all the time, but the dead kids always broke my heart. I steeled myself and found a shaky smile for the young girl.
“Thulu can’t hear you, Danika, but he’s good at reading lips, so if you can face him that will be helpful.”
“Cool,” she said as she turned to face Thulu with a sweet smile. “Everyone says you are the ones who will help find stuff. Well, my dog is kidnapped, and I know he’s still alive. I can pay, too. I had some money I was saving in a box under my bed.”
“When did you last see your dog?” Thulu asked.
“When that guy killed me.”
I closed my eyes briefly. I really hated dealing with dead kids and murdered ones were even worse. I mourned the loss of their potential and what they could have accomplished. The pain they had endured brought a feeling of helplessness. I didn’t like that feeling one bit. Yet there was nothing I could do but treat it as business as usual and maintain a professional attitude. Inside though, my stomach churned with anxiety.
Danika frowned. “That really makes me mad, you know?” She put one hand on her hip. “I’m a dancer. I was gonna be on TV and everything next month in that big talent contest. I’m real good, too, you know? I coulda won that contest.” Her voice wavered between disappointment and frustration.
“I’m so sorry, Danika.” And I was.
“Yeah, well that guy killed me and took my dog. And now I don’t get to be on TV.”
I didn’t tell her she’d been all over the TV for the last week, along with pictures of her dog. I simply nodded my understanding.
“Danika, are you certain your dog is still alive?” Thulu’s voice was soft, his brown eyes kind.
She nodded her head. “I’m sure. That guy has him. And he’s pretending to be nice to him, but he’s hurting him. I just know he is. Can you save him?” Silvery tears sparkled in her eyes and my heart broke a little more.
“I’m sure going to try, Danika. What’s his name?” answered Thulu.
“Rudy.”
“What kind of dog is he?” Thulu asked.
“He’s just a mutt. We aren’t really sure what kinds, but he’s a good dog. Smart too. That guy will hurt him and Rudy don’t deserve that.”
Thulu leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. I could feel him gather the energy that meant he was going into finding mode. Thulu was a finder. Anything or anyone that was lost, he could find.
I smiled encouragingly at Danika and put a finger to my lips, even though Thulu couldn’t hear her. She nodded solemnly and hovered over one of the visitors’ chairs across from our desks, hands folded in her lap, legs swinging back and forth.
We sat quietly and waited for Thulu. His face bore a faint frown as he concentrated. His brown, sun-streaked hair fell across his forehead and there was no trace of the dimples he ruthlessly used to charm the world.
Thulu and I had been working with the supernatural since we were kids. After college we opened an office where we could see our clients away from the prying eyes of the living and non-supernatural humans. It was an odd, but lucrative business. The dead paid us with knowledge of treasure, lost money or information. We had even inherited our house from a former client.
Our services were pretty basic - deliver messages to loved ones, find lost items and get them to the living, or find someone’s killer in rarer instances. I did the translating and Thulu did the finding. It was a great partnership.
Danika and I waited for Thulu to do his finding thing. The refrigerator in the kitchen section of our office hummed quietly as the seconds ticked by.
When Thulu opened his eyes, he quickly nodded at me. He gave an address in a less than savory part of town - that wasn’t too far from the unsavory part of town where we deliberately kept our own office. “Does that sound like the place, Danika?” he asked.
She nodded uncertainly. “I think so. It’s not too far from where I live.”
“Danika, can you describe your dog to us? Is he wearing a collar with name tags?” asked Thulu.
“Well, he’s white and tan and he’s not big, but he has a really loud bark, so he sounds bigger than he is. I don’t really know what kind of dog he looks like. Just a dog. My uncle said he had some terrier in him. Rudy has a green collar and a heart name tag. He had his shots tag on, too.”
She looked from Thulu back to me. “Can we please hurry? I don’t know how long he has with that guy.”
I nodded, my attention shifting to Thulu. “How do we approach this?”
Thulu looked down at the desk where he had started doodling on a notepad.
“I think we do a door to door saying we lost our own dog in the area.” He turned to his computer and brought up a lot of pictures of dogs. “Danika can you look at these pictures and tell me if any look like Rudy?”
She floated over to join Thulu, and I rolled my own chair over to his as he scrolled through the pictures.
“There! That looks something like Rudy, only Rudy’s fur is shorter.” She pointed to a picture of a Jack Russell mix and Thulu clicked to bring up a larger picture. She tilted her head to one side as she gazed at the picture. “And Rudy’s legs are shorter.”
Thulu’s fingers flew over the keys and within minutes the printer slid out a “Lost Dog” flyer, complete with description, picture and a fictitious phone number. He’d called the dog Rudy. I wondered if that would sound suspicious, but I figured only the killer would think that. Thulu quickly printed up some more flyers. For our ruse to work we’d have to go to more than just the killer’s house.
I mentioned my concern to Thulu.
“We could call the cops,” he said, one eyebrow raised and a hint of dimples telling me he wasn’t serious. He knew damned well I would not willingly interact with authorities of any kind. Explaining how we knew things would sound nuts, and I had a long-time wariness that the authorities would snatch us up and lock us away in a super-secret lab somewhere.
“Let’s give this a try.” I said, scowling. “If we find the pup, we can make an anonymous tip.” It wouldn’t be the first time we’d done that over the years.