“You’d better not have damaged his motor functions, you imbecile!” Violina took the poker from Steve and swatted him across the back of his legs with it. “Now put him in my car.”
“And then…you’re going to kill me?” His throbbing legs already carrying him to the door, he asked her with less dread this time, more hope.
“Shut up!” she yelled. “I’m trying to think!”
* * * *
Just inside the arrival entrance, there was some back-and-forth with the air marshal, but Brinke’s poise and compassion gave the officer no reason to pursue the matter further than a stern reprimand.
That done, she went to the nearest airport directory to find a rental-car office. Gathering her bearings, she felt a strange presence—something…tortured.
A man in a long, brown trench coat stood in the dimmest section of the airport bar’s low light, staring toward the arrival entrance. As if his personal energy wasn’t troubling enough, the man wore large-lensed, dark sunglasses and a black scarf around the lower part of his face. The overall effect was of a man painfully aware he was conspicuous and wishing not to be seen.
There was a pain as deep as a canyon residing in him.
If the storm was any indication, Brinke was arriving late to the game already. Ember Hollow, not to mention her witch colleagues, needed help. This man could not be her problem right now.
Brinke hurried to the rental-car area, not overly surprised to find that the offices were all immobilized by computer issues from the storm. The lights flickered and died throughout the airport for nearly a minute; time enough for a moderate panic to set in.
She stepped outside to check for waiting taxis or driver services. There were none in sight.
Back inside, she saw the covered man again, issuing a shy wave, like a toddler, as a middle-aged woman approached. The woman hugged him and spoke animatedly for a few seconds. He raised a tracheal amplifier to his throat and responded, then they went to the luggage conveyer.
Brinke found herself striding toward the couple, perhaps more determinedly than was prudent, for the covered man visibly recoiled as she came within a few feet.
Undaunted, and desperate, Brinke shone her blazing smile. “Pardon me, folks…”
The lady turned, also wary, yet receptive. “Yes?”
“Are you going to Ember Hollow?”
“Hmm, I’d better, I suppose,” said the woman. “I’m the mayor. Would you like a ride?”
The covered man tugged at Doris’s sleeve, as if imploring her to withdraw the invitation.
Chapter 21
The Sky’s Gone Out
The Stuyvesants led Brinke to a light brown Audi A8 with heavily tinted windows—the “Mayor Mobile.”
Kerwin, incapable of whispering or subtle speech, continued to tug at Doris’s sleeve every few yards.
“Kerwin, stop it!” answered Doris. “What kind of mayor would I be if I didn’t help our visitors?”
Brinke got in the back seat, impressed by the immaculate new-car smell and showroom interior.
Once they were all seated, Doris gave her brother a look of rebuke tempered with love. “This is my brother, Kerwin. Please forgive him; he’s very self-conscious.”
“Hi, Kerwin! I’m Brinke.”
Taking off his sunglasses, Kerwin merely stared out the darkened glass as Doris started the Audi.
Stopping at the exit gate, Doris looked at Brinke in the rearview. “Where can we take you, young lady?”
“The Blue Moon Inn, please.”
“You’ve come at a less than optimal time, I’m afraid,” said the mayor. “Our town, and my brother…we’ve had some recent downturns. But you’ll find we’re a friendly and optimistic bunch.”
“I’m sure.”
Though it seemed to get darker and more oppressive by the minute, Brinke felt sad to see the stark confirmation of the reason her fellow witches had come here.
In about half of the fields to either side, beautiful plump specimens of the hearty Jericho’s Wall Super-squash breed, unique to Cronus County’s famed pumpkin fields, still grew, yet most of them would never be harvested. They were untended this season, save for those of a handful of stubborn, or optionless, farmers.
“What brings you to Ember Hollow, if I may ask?”
Brinke sensed wariness in the question, which was perfectly understandable given there was little reason for anyone to visit Ember Hollow anymore, unless you were into murder sites.
“I have friends here.” There was no point in sidetracking the issue. The mayor should know if she didn’t already. “We’re going to try and help your town heal.”
A minute head movement showed that Kerwin’s interest had been piqued.
“Oh?” Doris said.
“Something’s wrong here. We want to help.”
“Are you with the, uh…” Doris wound her hand, as if drawing out the appropriate word from Brinke.
Brinke smiled. “The word I like is ‘co-creators.’ But ‘witches’ is fine too.”
Kerwin looked at her. Remembering that he meant to be hiding, he sharply spun his face away. In that moment of eye contact, Brinke saw to the core of his deep regret, shame and self-loathing.
Doris explained that, in addition to being mayor, she owned a good deal of Ember Hollow’s real estate, along with Kerwin. She was sincere in expressing that her stake went deeper than political responsibility.
“I have to admit,” said Doris, “that we don’t know quite what to think of this witch business.”
Brinke’s laugh was genuine, though she knew how very charming and disarming it was. “I don’t either, if it helps.”
Did Kerwin chuckle to himself a little?
“This must be disconcerting.” Doris put a loving hand on her brother’s shoulder.
“I just hope I’m not imposing,” Brinke said.
“I trick Kerwin into coming out however I can.” Doris looked over at Kerwin. “Like picking me up at the airport.”
He stared out the window.
“He was disfigured by Everett Geelens two years ago.”
Kerwin trembled at the name.
“But he’s getting better. One of these days, he’ll let someone besides me see how he looks. He’ll realize it’s not as bad as he thinks. And he won’t be so withdrawn anymore.”
Kerwin pushed his sister’s hand away.
Doris drove in silence for a full minute.
