Engines and werewolves

Chapter 11

His soft voice floated over her ear. "You're mine."

Victoria shuddered. Her body was afire with her thought for him. She couldn't deny it any longer. She hungered for his soft caresses and warm body. She needed him to take her and make her his and his alone. She parted her dry lips to tell him.

A terrible buzzing noise came out of her mouth.

Victoria's eyes flew open. She sat up and whipped her head to and fro. Her bedroom stared back at her. She turned to her right. The alarm clock on the nightstand continued its horrible wake-up call. She slammed her palm on the button and ran her other hand through her disheveled hair.

"Only a dream. . ." she whispered.

A heaviness fell on her heart. It was a weight she grudgingly described as disappointment. Victoria shook her head and flung off her covers.

It was four days after the horrible night of wizards and death. Victoria had the same dream every night, and every morning her alarm woke her at the worst possible moment.

"He's a monster, Victoria," she reminded herself as she hopped out of bed. She snatched her clothes off her dresser and walked toward the door. "And you don't want to be fooling around with monsters."

Victoria showered and walked out into the living room. Her father stood at the stove with a spatula in hand and a smile on his face. "Good morning, sleepy-head," he teased as she took her seat at the table.

She managed a smile for him. "'Morning, Dad. What's for breakfast?"

He flipped a pancake. It slapped back on the pan with a heavy thunk. "Oh, just my usual light-and-fluffy pancakes."

She winced. "Sounds-um, yummy, Dad."

He glanced over his shoulder and winked at her. "And it'll keep you full most of the day." He grabbed a plate and plopped two of the pancakes onto the surface. "Grub's ready!"

A knock came from the door. Victoria jumped to her feet. "I'll get it!"

Victoria hurried from certain death and over to the door. She opened the entrance. Her smile froze on her face. In the hallway stood a uniformed police officer.

He flashed her his badge. "I'm sorry to disturb you so early. Is this the residence of Mr. Robert O'Hara?"

"That's my name," her father spoke up as he came up behind her. Victoria stepped aside so her father could be at the forefront. "What seems to be the problem?"

The man pulled out an iPad from inside his jacket and scrolled through a few pages. "We have a report of a missing person. A Mr. Felix Blake has been reported as missing by his girlfriend." His eyes flickered up to her father's face. "We were informed that you and he had a falling out just prior to his disappearance. Is this true?"

The color drained from Robert's face. "I-I suppose you could call it that, but I held no ill-will toward him."

"I was told by your mutual employer that he took your position for a short while," the officer commented.

Robert nodded. "Yes, that's right, but it was only temporary. I have a much better position now."

The officer pulled out a pen to write on the iPad. "Can you state where you last saw Mr. Blake?"

Her father's face flushed and his eyebrows crashed down. "Sir, I'd like things to be clear. Am I to understand that I'm a suspect in his disappearance?"

"Everyone's a suspect until we find the guilty party, sir," the officer replied.

"That goes against the principle of 'innocent before proven guilty.' You don't have any evidence to say I should be a suspect," Robert argued.

The officer shook his head. "It can't be helped, sir. Now if you could just tell me where you last saw him."

Mr. O'Hara pursed his lips and sighed. "I saw him about a week ago when I was informed of my-well, of the change in our positions."

"So you didn't see him outside of work?" the officer asked him.

Robert closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. We were acquaintances, but not friends."

The officer typed a few more notes into his computer and put the stylus and iPad away. "Thank you for the information. I must also warn you not to leave the area. We might have to ask you some more questions."

Robert nodded. He looked pale. "Yes, of course. I understand."

"Oh-" The officer dug into his pockets and pulled out a photograph. "Mr. Blake's car is also missing, along with his driver's license and other cards he often took with him. This is the car if you could keep a look out for it."

He handed Robert the photo, and Victoria leaned over his shoulder. Her eyes widened as she beheld the same sporty red car she'd seen at Lukeman's home. Even the unusual license plate matched.

"We'll be sure to look for it," Robert promised as he handed back the photograph.

The officer tucked the photo back into his pocket and tipped his hat. "Much obliged. Have a good day."

"Good day," Robert replied.

He shut the door as Victoria turned away from the entrance. She held her head in one hand and took a couple of steps away from the door. Her head swam with a fast flurry of frantic thoughts. There was new meaning to Lukeman's promise to take care of her father's problems, a new and horrible meaning.

A hard thunk brought her back to her surroundings, and she turned around. "What was-" Her heart skipped a beat as she saw her father sprawled face-first on the floor.

Victoria rushed to his side and rolled him onto his back. His face was deathly white and his breaths were quick and shallow. She could feel his heart beat beneath her hands as she pressed her palms against his chest.

"Dad! Dad, what's wrong?" she asked him.

Her father tried to mouth some words, but no sound came out. He raised a shaky hand and pointed at the door before his strength failed him and his arm dropped to the floor.

Victoria nodded and struggled to her feet. "All right, just hold on."

She rushed to the door and swung it open. The portal hit the inner wall just as she flew out into the hall. The dark back of the officer retreated down the stairs.

"Officer!" She rushed down the passage and hit the railing over the lower landing. The railing rocked to-and-fro, but held her weight. The officer paused mid-step a half flight down and glanced up at her. "Officer, please help! It's my dad!"

The officer swung around and hurried back up the stairs. She led him back to their apartment where her father still lay on the floor. One of his hands clutched his chest and his face was scrunched.

The officer knelt beside him and tore open Mr. O'Hara's tight colla

r. He glanced over his shoulder at Victoria who stood close to the door. "Have you called 911 yet?" She shook her head. "Call them right now and ask for an ambulance. I think he's had a heart attack."

Victoria nodded her head and procured her phone. A quick dial and some quicker but clear instructions, and the ambulance was on its way. Meanwhile, the officer had made her father comfortable with a blanket and pillow.

The officer stood and turned to her. "Stay beside him and I'll meet the ambulance."

"W-will he be all right?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "That's up to the doctors to say, but stay with him and make sure he stays awake. Can you do this for me?" Victoria nodded. "All right, I should be back up with the techs in a few minutes."

He hurried from the apartment. Victoria dropped to her knees beside her father and clasped one of his cold hands in both of hers. Tears slipped from her eyes as she watched him struggle for every breath.

A shaky smile slipped onto her lips as she squeezed his hand. "Come on, Dad, you can't leave me now. Who's going to make all those heavy pancakes."

A sob escaped her lips as he returned her squeeze. Off in the distance came the wailing call of the ambulance sirens.

2

Lukeman leaned his elbow on the car door and stared out at the passing suburbia. The rows of split-level homes with their faded siding fly past, but the far-away look in his eyes showed he didn't see much of anything of the world outside of the lush interior of his dark sedan.

Albert glanced through the rear view mirror. "Is everything all right, Master?"

Lukeman sat up and crossed his legs. He looked down at his lap. A paper bag lay in it, and within that was the wreck of the magic mirror. "That remains to be seen. I'm not sure if Ficus has the skill to repair the mirror."

"If he doesn't then who would?" Albert asked him.

Lukeman shook his head. "No one on this continent."

They drove a few more blocks before Albert parked the car in front of a large split-level home. The windows near the ground level were shuttered by thick planks of wood and there was an attached garage to the right of the house.

Master and servant stepped out of the car and up the steps to the front door. Lukeman pressed the door bell and a small chime echoed inside the house. His sensitive ears picked up on footsteps, and a moment later the door was flung open.

In the doorway stood the owner of the house. The unusual man would force anyone on the streets to give him a second glance. His bushy white hair stuck out in all directions, and many of the ends were blackened by fire. He wore a white lab coat with red and purple stains over the front, and he looked at the world through a pair of small spectacles. The open-toed sandals on his feet finished off his strange appearance.

Behind him stood a living room crowded with tables full of beakers, small cauldrons, and Bunsen burners. Grayish liquid bubbled inside the containers and the steam floated over mounds of papers and stacks of books. Books were strewn about the floor and abandoned lab coats that were even more grisly in appearance than the one worn by the man.

The stranger's small eyes flickered between Lukeman and his servant. "Well? What's wanted?"

Lukeman smiled at him. "I wish for you to repair a mirror for me, Dr. Ficus."

The man's lips curled back in a snarl. "What do I look like? A glass blower?"

"This is rather an unusual mirror," Lukeman argued as he pulled the mirror out. He turned the glass toward the man. "One that needs a special touch such as yours."

Ficus studied the mirror and his bushy eyebrows shot up. He glanced at Lukeman. His voice was low and tense. "Where did you get that?"

Lukeman shook his head. "That isn't important. What's important is that I wish for it to be repaired."

Ficus eyed Lukeman with a stern gaze. "I won't be fixing something you stole. Now get lost." He stepped back and pushed the door.

Lukeman slammed his palm against the door and shoved his foot in the doorway to stop the portal from closing. He looked into Ficus's eyes with a steady gaze. "What if I was to tell you it was given to me?"

Ficus arched an eyebrow. "I knew who owned this, and I can't think of any reason why she'd give something this important to a werewolf."

Lukeman smiled and shrugged. "I did a favor for her, and my reward was the mirror. However-" he stepped backward and half-turned away, "-if you don't to fix it I can go somewhere else and-" Ficus snorted.

"You're going to be looking for a while. Nobody around here but me would know how to fix something that rare," the old man argued.

Lukeman held out the mirror. "Then I would appreciate your expertise in repairing the mirror. Think of it as a favor to her."