The Wizard Returns: Book Three of the Wizard Born Series (8 page)

“Have you found anything in your magic books that might help Rollie?”

“Not yet. Found some cures for various rashes and a few hexes that might be useful, and I’m putting those in my greatest hits spell book, but...no magic-blocking spells.”

“I don’t know if Eddan knew of any, either. I’ve been sifting through his memories, but nothing has come up.”

“Jamie?” She leaned back and took a deep breath. “You’re
sure
Rollie’s using magic? It’s not something else, maybe some —”

“For the umpteenth time, it’s
magic
. You saw the video of him in my backyard catching the football. That was a magical phenomenon, and I definitely wasn’t doing it.”

“We’ve got to find a way to help him. You know how much basketball means to him.”

“I know, but Rollie was a pretty good player before he started using magic.”

“Was he good enough?”

“I don’t know.”

* * *

The next night at dinner, Carl watched Jamie idly thump his glass with his fingernail — ding, ding, ding — his shoulders slumped as he stared at his plate of half-eaten food.

“Did you have track practice today?”

“Mm hmm.”

Carl waited for Jamie to elaborate, but he didn’t seem to want to. “Did you do okay?”

Jamie only shrugged without looking up.

“Are you still worried about Rollie?”

Jamie sighed and glanced at Carl. “He wants me to find a way to strip him of his magic, or at least block it, so that he can go all out at basketball practice without cheating, or whatever you want to call it.”

“He’s afraid he can’t control it, so he’s holding back?”

“He said it’s messing him up, totally. He can’t play his best at practice ’cause he’s all freaked out, but if he doesn’t play good at practice, he won’t get to play in the playoff game this Tuesday.”

“I see how that could be a problem.” Carl rubbed the end of his nose and stared at his own plate for a moment. “I want to take John Paul fishing this Saturday. Can you make a magic doorway to his house for him?”

“Where are you going?”

“North Mills River. He’s never been trout fishing before.”

“Do I have to make a doorway there, too?”

“I think we can drive that far. We just need a doorway to Thibodaux.”

“Whatever happened with that bear? Did the park rangers trap him yet?”

“Not that I’ve heard. But it won’t be a problem, if that’s what you’re worried about. We won’t be anywhere close to it.”

* * *

The demon caught the scent of fresh meat nearby, and his stomach growled. He stood up straight to gauge its location, then dropped to all fours and lumbered down the trail toward the moonlit clearing.

He slowed when he spied the source of the smell. It seemed to be coming from a large metal cylinder that rested on its side on a wheeled frame. He sniffed it cautiously, then squeezed his massive shoulders supernaturally narrow and pressed inside the open end. A hunk of meat was hanging in the back of the enclosure, and when he snatched it with one hand, something clanged behind him.

He grunted and stretched one foot back to find a barred door blocking the way. He pushed at it, but it held firmly. Enraged, he kicked hard and it broke away.

His anger grew as he backed out, and when he dropped to the ground, he snarled and struck the cylinder with one huge fist, putting a deep dent in it. Then he roared and attacked it ferociously, pounding it into a wreck, and with a furious kick, sent it flying onto its side.

He stared at it while he panted in the moonlight, until he realized that the meat was still inside. With one final howl, he drove his fist through the metal, then peeled it apart with both hands. He snatched the meat from the trap and loped away.

Chapter 8

John Paul stepped through the magic doorway from his house in Louisiana into Jamie’s family room, two fishing poles in one hand and well-worn orange plastic tackle box in the other, a big smile on his normally-serious face. Carl greeted him with a smile of his own as Jamie closed the portal.

“I don’t think I have the right tackle for trout,” John Paul said, “but I brought it anyway.”

“That’s okay,” Carl said as he handed him a small white card. “Here’s your temporary license. I’m going to show you how to fly fish today. You can use my spare rod.”

“Dad, I think I hear your phone,” Jamie said. “Sounds like it’s in the kitchen.”

“Hold on. I’ll be right back”

Carl walked away and John Paul said, “You coming with us?”

“I don’t like to fish,” Jamie said. “I can sense their pain when the hook penetrates their mouths.”

John Paul winced. “Wish you hadn’t told me that.”

“Sorry. I guess it’s one of the disadvantages of being a sorcerer, or at least one who’s good with animals.”

Carl returned a few moments later with his phone in hand and a bleak expression. “Um, we have a bit of a problem. Remember that bear trap, Jamie?” He showed Jamie the screen. “Check this out.”

Jamie inspected the image on it. It was a photo of a twisted, dented hunk of blue metal. “Is that what that is?”

“It was.”

John Paul leaned in to look at it and gave a low whistle. “You must have mighty big bears in this part of the country.”

Carl shook his head. “My buddy Hank sent this to me. He’s a park ranger, and he wants to know if I can come look at it. Do you mind?”

“Can I come along?” John Paul said.

“That’s what I was suggesting. It’ll mess up our fishing, though. It’s pretty far.”

“How far?”

“It’s over an hour drive, even if I turn my police light on in my truck.”

“I can make a doorway,” Jamie said. “We can be there in a few minutes.”

“Won’t that be suspicious?”

“Tell your park ranger friend that you were fishing nearby. Is there a trout stream up that way?”

“A few, I think. I’ll have to check.”

“I’ll boot up the computer and we can look at the map. I’ll make a doorway for your truck at the closest dirt road, someplace that’s deserted.”

“How will you know if it’s deserted?” John Paul asked.

“I’ll make a peephole first and look.”

John Paul turned to Carl. “Should I go back to my house and get my gun?”

“My shotgun is in the truck. You can use that and I’ll bring my pistol.”

“What about these?” He nodded at his fishing poles, still in his hand.

“Bring ’em,” Jamie said. “I’ll make a doorway to a fishing spot after we check out the trap.”

“You’re coming to look at it?”

Jamie clenched his fist and it flared with a bright yellow glow as if it were about to burst into flames. “With a bear like that, you might need more than a shotgun for protection.”

Jamie, Carl, and John Paul got out of Carl’s pickup truck at the state park, next to three white Park Service trucks that were parked in a row at the edge of the lot. Carl strapped on his pistol while John Paul cradled the shotgun and gazed around at the breathtaking scenery, mountains stretching into the distance. Azaleas, blooming in pinks, whites, and brilliant reds, rimmed the nicely landscaped park, and a few rhododendrons were just beginning to show hints of their colorful glory.

“Never been here before.” John Paul said, nodding appreciatively. “It’s really nice. Lot different than where I’m from.”

“I’ve lived here my whole life,” Carl said. “I still think it’s beautiful. I’ll never get jaded.” He headed toward a small wooden sign mounted on a post a few feet past the end of the parking lot, set in an gap in the brush. “Hank said to follow this trail about a half mile and we’ll find him.”

Jamie walked beside his father as they made their way onto the path. “How’d they get the trap there?”

“Probably towed it with an ATV.” He pointed at some narrow tire tracks in the dirt. “See?”

John Paul clutched the shotgun and his eyes darted about as they strode downhill on the rocky trail. Someone approached them from the opposite direction, wearing the tan uniform of a park ranger. He waved and called, “You sure got here fast.”

Carl shook his hand when they met and introduced Jamie and John Paul to his friend, Hank Carlan. “Louisiana, huh?” Hank said to John Paul as they continued in the direction of the mangled trap. “I think you’ll like the fishin’ up here. But I bet you don’t get bears like this down there in the swamps, do you?”

“We got black bears, same as you, but none that can smash up a metal trap like that. Got some pretty big gators, though.”

Hank slowed and his expression turned grim. “Carl, something is really odd about what happened here. That’s why I called you. Some of the other rangers think it might some kind of prank, but....” He shook his head slowly.

They continued downhill on the trail until it leveled out at a wide clearing. Near the center of it was the battered trap, a few rangers standing around it with rifles in their hands, talking and studying the destruction, all with troubled looks on their faces.

“Holy crud,” John Paul muttered. “Look at
that
.”

Jamie stared at the trap, and the extent of the damage seemed to be even worse in person; the tiny picture on his father’s phone did not do it justice. It looked as if it had been smashed by boulders and then thrown aside by a giant, petulant child. It was dented nearly flat at the front end and the wheels were missing from the side that now stuck up in the air. The door lay several yards away, bent outward in the middle, and two of the bars on it were broken.

“Whew,” Carl said. “That’s something else. Find any prints?”

“Just one,” Hank said. “Over here by the door. But it’s not a bear paw print. In fact, it’s not like any animal that lives around here. Looks more like a dinosaur print, which is why we think it might be pranksters.” He led them to a patch of soft dirt, and in it was the impression of a huge animal foot or paw. They knelt beside it and Hank pointed. “See here? It’s got three clawed toes on the front and one on the back. That’s definitely not a bear print. Somebody might’ve put it there as a hoax, like Bigfoot or something.”

Carl rubbed his jaw. “So you think somebody smashed up the trap and faked the print?”

Jamie pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen. “If teenagers did it, they might’ve posted a video of it somewhere.” He frowned. “Darn. I don’t get any reception here.”

John Paul scratched his cheek with one finger. “Hank, you think somebody coulda put those dents in the trap with a sledgehammer?”

“If Paul Bunyan was swinging it, maybe. That thing’s made of heavy-duty steel. It’s strong enough to hold a grizzly bear, and they can be as big as fifteen hundred pounds. Bears around here might be five, six hundred pounds, tops. Biggest ever killed was about eight hundred, but that’s still small compared to a grizzly.”

Carl put his hands on his hips and surveyed the demolished trap. “But if some pranksters did it, they would’ve had to bring some kind of heavy equipment in here, like a back hoe or something. I didn’t see any tracks like that when we came down the trail, did you?”

“That’s what’s so odd. I don’t see how they could’ve done it.”

John Paul held up one finger and said, “You remember crop circles? Those were pretty incredible, and lots of folks were convinced that they had to have been done by aliens...couldn’t see how they could’ve been done by humans. But somebody figured out a way to make them. Maybe this is the same kind of thing.”

“That’s what we’re thinking,” Hank said. “But we’ve still got a bear out there killing hikers.”

“Has it killed any more lately?”

“Not that we know of, but we have found the remains of some deer kills. That’s not all that unusual, though.”

“Mind if we have a look around?” Carl said.

“I was hoping you would. That’s why I asked you to come up here. You’re the best detective I know.”

“Thanks.” Carl pointed down the trail. “Where’s this go?”

“It curves around the hill on the right and then cuts across the valley.” Hank gave each of them a quick, serious look. “Be careful, though. Don’t try to be heroes. Holler for us if you see anything.”

He tipped his hat to them as they walked away. Jamie waited until they were out of earshot before saying, “So what do you think?”

“It definitely took a piece of heavy equipment to do that kind of damage,” John Paul said. “There’s got to be a track somewhere, unless they flew it in with a helicopter.”

“That’s an elaborate prank,” Carl said. They walked on, eying the ground while remaining watchful of the bear.

“Something’s bothering me about this,” Jamie said as they rounded the curve of the hill. “Did you see that hole in the side? Looks like something punched it and peeled it open like an orange.”

Carl grimaced. “That was weird.”

“The whole thing is weird,” John Paul said.

Jamie looked over his shoulder to make sure they were out of sight of the rangers, then pointed at the sky. “I’m going to go up and have a look around. Cover for me if anybody asks.”

“You’re gonna what?” John Paul said.

“He’s going to fly,” Carl said.

“Oh.” He gave a little nervous laugh. “Never seen that before. I’m still getting used to this magic stuff.”

Jamie held out his hands and formed his invisibility shield, then leaped into the air and flew off, and he heard a faint “wow” from John Paul before he was out of ear shot. Jamie paused in midflight and surveyed the terrain below. The trail curled down and then snaked across the valley before climbing up to the next ridge. Jamie rose to about two hundred feet and flew along the general direction of the path, scanning the ground below for any sign of the bear.

It shouldn’t be too hard to see him from up here
. He crossed the valley and followed the trail about a mile to the ridge, which veered sharply to the left and curved out of sight. Around the bend he saw that the path turned into a series of ascending switchbacks before straightening out and hugging the rim of the next peak.

On the far edge of the trail he saw something moving and he flew closer to investigate. When he was within a few hundred feet he slowed to a stop and hovered, then rubbed his eyes and looked again.
What is
that?