Maria’s heart sank. For the first time since Sherlock had been able to communicate with her, he was being honest.
“We have to. We practically grew up together, Sherlock. You know how Gramps raised us.”
To do the right thing, yes; but it’s not the right thing if it means your death.
She didn’t know what to say.
“Eureka!” Gramps said, breaking the somber moment.
He’s the same way, Maria, Sherlock added. He’s stalling. Who needs rubber galoshes when you’re able to conjure up things out of thin air? If he really needed them, he’d just alakazam them—
“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Maria said.
Whatever. Point being, he’s scared. As much as he wanted you to come into your powers, he’s not ready to let the girl he raised go.
Maria turned and looked at her grandfather with different colored lenses—these lenses were tinted with understanding. Gramps had never been the finicky type. He may have been a bit kooky, and even more rambunctious, but he’d always had his affairs in order.
“It’s because I was a late-bloomer, isn’t it?” Maria asked.
Ignatius paused in his madness and looked up. His heart had been slowly breaking since he heard of Malakai’s second coming, and looking at Maria now had almost fully broken it. No longer did he see the little girl he taught how to ride a bike, or to whom he’d sung his whacky Oriceran birthday songs. No longer did he see a little girl at all, but a full-grown woman—a full-grown witch.
“You wanted me to become a witch until you knew the stakes,” Maria deduced. “The villagers were all but dead after so many years, and when I didn’t show signs of any magic, you thought all hope was lost. Then here comes the giant spider guy, and you realize this is real. More real than you thought.”
Ignatius felt tears at the edge of his eyelids.
You mustn’t cry, Ig. You mustn’t cry. You must be honest and honorable. The Apple way. The way you taught Maria. Don’t contradict yourself now.
Maria got up and walked over to him.
She was so tall these days; he hadn’t seemed to notice it until now. She seemed to grow even taller still. Her hair shone dark brown in the overhead fluorescents. Her eyes burned with intensity, with magic… the color of a clear sky in the throes of summer.
“Now I’m coming into my own and I can save the villagers, and you’re at a crossroads,” Maria continued.
Ignatius stood up and hugged Maria. Sherlock maneuvered himself between them and stood on his hind legs to make a group hug.
“There’s no portal here, is there?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “You are my granddaughter, all I have left…and you remind me so much of Zimmy.”
“The Queen Witch,” Maria nodded. “My mom.”
Gramps nodded back and swallowed a lump in his throat.
“She was murdered protecting them, and now they are lost; I’ve forgotten some of their faces, Maria. I will not lie to you. But I have you here and now. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose Salem or Agnes or the Muffler twins.”
They parted.
God, you two are breaking my heart, Sherlock said. I need to go chew another shoe. Sherlock stalked off down the aisle, his head down, and his ears and cheeks drooping more than normal.
Maria looked back at her grandfather. She took his hands. “You don’t have to worry about losing me, or your friends, or even Sherlock,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to win. You’ve taught me time and time again that good beats evil. I’ve never lost faith in that belief. And I never will.”
Gramps smiled, his bottom lip quivering.
“You’re just like your mother,” he said, and then he sat down and took off the different colored boots. He threw them back on to the rack and waved his hands in a circular gesture.
Maria’s jaw dropped. She had never seen her grandfather perform magic before last night, at least not knowingly, and it still amazed her. The shoes that had been scattered all over the aisle rose on their own and started walking down the linoleum one step at a time, as if invisible men were wearing them. Each shoe found their respective spot on the rack, matching colors and sizes.
“Wow!” Maria said, her mouth still hanging open.
Sherlock whined as the loafer he had been chewing on was pried from his jaw by phantom fingers. A string of slobber hung from the sole, swinging like a pendulum.
“Don’t think anyone is gonna want that shoe after they find out where it’s been,” Maria wrinkled her nose.
“Nonsense! It’s Walmart!” Gramps announced as he walked to the end of the aisle.
“Yeah, it’s Walmart—so why are you being so nice? Wouldn’t it really stick it to them if they had to come clean up after you?”
Gramps looked back and shook his head. “Why, no, Maria. It’s not the regular employees of Walmart that I have a bone to pick with. The cashiers, greeters, stockers, and cleaners have done nothing to offend me. It’s the damn security!”
“Right. Well, get them back then.”
“All in due time, my dear grandchild,” Gramps said. He seemed more confident all of a sudden, more normal. “Now, Sherlock, come.”
Sherlock obeyed, which was a form of magic in and of itself.
“Oriceran awaits us. My home. And there we will discover the secrets only you can unlock, Maria.”
Maria smiled. “Let’s go.”
They got halfway to the Firebird before Ignatius stopped and grabbed his stomach. The worst flashed through Maria’s mind. Heart attack. Stroke. Ruptured bowels. It came with the territory of caring for a senior citizen, and, though her grandfather turned out to be a magical wizard warrior, her old fear did not go away.
“What? What’s wrong?” she asked, her face twisted into a grimace that matched Ignatius’s. Even Sherlock had stopped eyeing the gulls that were looking for lost food in the
