The tank is empty, Sherlock said. The remark caused Maria to laugh.
“What?”
Maria smiled. “Inside joke.” There was no denying how good she felt. The magic that had coursed through her body when Claire hit her felt like cold lemonade on a scorching hot summer’s day. Refreshing. Deep down, it also felt right. And a little weird, but Maria wasn’t complaining. She didn’t think she would be complaining until she set her sights on a giant man-spider. Until then, she’d take it as it came. After all, it was pretty cool to learn her life was so much more than normal.
Yeah, Maria, you’d better hurry, Sherlock said, sniffing the air. I smell bitchiness on the horizon. Jody can’t be far off.
Maria continued. “So it’s simple really. Well, ‘simple’ in terms of summing it up. I have some sort of mental bond to the world in between, since I’m directly related to the Queen Witch, and the dead boy who visited me last night was there to let me know that the villagers are not lost. They’re still alive, and it’s up to me to get them out.”
“Uh-huh,” Claire said, nodding. “Why can’t you and Macaroni—”
“Malakai,” Maria corrected.
“Yeah, Malakai—talk about a badass villain name, by the way—just share the music box? You get the villagers out, and he can get his old crew out. Win-win.”
“No,” Maria said firmly. “We can’t let evil win.”
“Now, I normally would agree with you, Maria,” Claire said, “but you’re apparently dealing with something complex and completely out of your realm.”
Literally, Sherlock added.
“It might not be a bad idea to hand over whatever the giant spider wants. He’s from another world; how much can it really affect us here?”
Maria got out of the car. She had a smug look on her face. Claire followed, waiting for an answer.
“No,” Maria rejected the idea. “No. That’s not the right thing to do. I’m an Apple. We don’t roll over and let evil win. We kick evil right in its evil ass.”
Claire nodded. “Worth a shot, I guess. Seeing as how I’m your best friend, you know I can’t let you do this alone, right?”
Maria shook her head, surprised Claire would offer her help when so much oddness had just been shared. Plus, Maria didn't want to put Claire in danger.
“Yeah, too bad. I’m here to back you up…right after my shift ends.” Claire turned and headed for the mall’s Employees Only entrance. “Stay safe,” she hollered over her shoulder, her red and black uniform dress flowing in the wind.
Maria watched her go and then looked down at Sherlock, who was sniffing at a smashed piece of already chewed gum. “She probably thinks I’m crazy.”
Well, I, on the other hand, know you’re crazy.
“Thanks, Sherlock. You’re such a good boy.”
He barked.
“I guess you can understand English fine, but when it comes to sarcasm, it might as well be Mandarin.”
They walked out of the mall parking lot, back toward the center of town. Maria’s body buzzed, and the world seemed brighter, more vibrant. There was a pent-up rage inside of her; one she needed to work out.
She knew the perfect place.
Chapter Twelve
Bodybuilder’s Gym was a haven for meatheads. Dirty. Grimy. Reeking of sweat.
Maria entered through the front door, which was an open garage. The sun beamed, glinting off the old weights, and shining off of glistening biceps and pectoral muscles.
She had dropped Sherlock off at home—he wanted a nap. Gramps wasn’t there, meaning he was probably at Salem’s.
Maria had been a member of the gym since her junior year in high school. Coach Smith cut her from the wrestling team. Not because she wasn’t any good—she’d pinned John Grand in almost record-time, and he’d gone on for the rest of his high school days known as ‘the guy who got beat by a chick,’ and he’d always say he wasn’t trying his hardest. Bullshit. Maria knew he was. It wasn’t easy pinning him to the mat, but she’d done it, and it should’ve cemented her place on the team; perhaps even have earned her a co-captain spot. Instead, she was cut.
Because she was a girl.
She was sad at first. She’d gone home to Gramps and told him all about it, and in Gramps’s infinite wisdom, he said only one thing. There was no picking up the phone and calling the school district. No threats of lawsuits or anything of that matter. All he said was: “Prove them wrong.”
And Maria did.
She’d gotten a membership specifically at Bodybuilder’s Gym because John Grand worked out there. He and his meathead friends would always skip leg day, and it had gotten to the point where they looked like a couple of barrels on stilts.
Maria trained hard and she trained with a purpose. John Grand quit working out there last summer. In fact, he’d quit working out in general after high school. Maria saw him walking around the mall with his girlfriend one day, and John had easily put on thirty pounds. It wasn’t muscle.
“Hey, Maria,” Gus Cheney greeted as she strode in, her gym bag over her shoulder. Gus weighed about three hundred pounds, all muscle. He was hammer-curling eighties like they were made of cardboard.
“Hey, Gus, how’s it going?”
“Swole,” Gus answered. “You?”
“Could be better.”
“Rough day?”
“Almost always.”
“You still working up at the mall?”
Maria chuckled. “About that…”
Gus set the dumbbells down with an earth-shattering clank. Is he magic? Maria wondered. How else could he pick up such heavy stuff? Steroids? No. Gus isn’t one to cheat. Sheer hard work and determination, that’s how. Maria knew it.
Gus flexed in his tank top, the stitches stretching to their maximum. Somewhere behind the pair, a man grunted as he racked the barbell at the benching station. Ah, what a sweet sound.
“Eh, you don’t need them,” he assured her. “That mall is going to hell, anyway. I won’t even shop there.”
“Gus, the only place you go shopping is at GNC.”
Gus shrugged. “Still shopping. But the missus won’t set foot in Rolling
