Page 33 of Last Call at the Doghouse

The dogs, who waited as patiently as a pack of dogs could, were getting restless.

“Do that,” Silas said. He nodded to the bloodhound, Judge, waved a hand in Armi’s direction, and returned to his pack. “Nice to meet you,” he said to Mitch, and then he was off, jogging down the street again.

They watched the critter guy and his dogs continue on. “This is the weirdest town,” Mitch mumbled.

“If you think that’s weird…” Armi turned and headed toward the other end of town. The Egg waited at the end of the road, but there were several shops along the way, shops they hadn’t yet explored. A chocolate shop sat at the end, and for a moment he thought that’s where Armi was headed. Women and chocolate, right? But she passed the shop without even slowing down and turned a corner.

A mural covered the entire concrete block wall. Main Street was laid out before them, a street festival in progress. The painting was incredibly detailed, down to the cookies in one child’s hand, an ice cream cone in another. That was obviously Judge, standing beside a child. There was no mistaking the bloodhound. Springers danced and laughed. Some actively practiced their magic. A teenager floated in the air. Another spoke to her friends. Two of those friends were ghosts.

“This must’ve taken months to complete. There’s so much detail!” He reached out to touch a figure standing in the middle of the painted street. The paint was dry, though the colors were so vibrant it might’ve still been damp.

“We’ll check it out tomorrow,” Armi said. “According to Aunt Helen, it changes frequently. Sometimes once a week, but other times, daily.”

“How is that possible?”

She didn’t hesitate. “This is Mystic Springs. Anything is possible.”

A year ago he wouldn’t have believed her. Today, he didn’t doubt a word she said.

* * *

It had been a long, frustrating day. After dinner at Eve’s Cafe, which was crowded even at this early dinner hour, she and Duncan would return to the B&B. That was the plan. After dark they’d find a quiet spot to work on her abilities. There had to be more to what she could do, if she was meant to take part in a war. Then what? Tea and pie in the parlor. Board games in the dining room. Maybe they’d just retire early and make that damn bed squeak. What did she care if everyone else in the place knew what they were up to? Sex would be one way to work off some of this frustration.

The waitress at the counter nodded to them and then pointed to a booth in the back corner. They headed that way and sat. Neither of them had eaten since breakfast, so they were hungry. Something smelled good. Trying to build an army—successfully or not—worked up an appetite.

She’d tried to call Mary twice. No answer, which was odd. Mary usually kept her cell phone close. The signal at The Doghouse wasn’t the best. Calls had dropped a couple of times, so that could be the issue. Stella had posted on The Doghouse social media accounts about her special drink for the night. Something fruity with a little umbrella. If anything was seriously wrong with Mary, Stella would know.

Just as well. The kind of discussion they needed to have should be in-person. Armi knew that. And dreaded it.

“After dinner we can check The Egg, before we head to the B&B,” Duncan said as he set his menu aside.

“I don’t see how an army of octogenarians will work for us.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Your aunt might have some ideas about the training you need. And maybe they can point us in the right direction, or help us decipher that damn book, or tell us why the people we’ve talked to are so reluctant to do any damn thing. We should’ve started with them, I guess. I was so sure we’d be able to line up a few Springers to get things going.”

“Could be it’s not time.” She hoped not. She dearly and deeply hoped she was never called to fight anything or anyone.

Duncan’s answer was a growl of sorts. The waitress appeared to take their orders—a burger and fries for Duncan, chicken and dumplings for herself, sweet tea for both—then scurried off to deliver their order to the kitchen.

Before they could return to their conversation, a fellow resident of the B&B joined them. She hadn’t seen him coming, since her back was to the door. Nelson Lovell. He was a nice-looking guy with dark hair and a runner’s physique. She’d sensed that maybe he and Molly had a thing going on, but it’s possible they were just friends.

Some in town held a grudge against Molly. It was clear Nelson Lovell did not.

Nelson sat beside her, forcing Armi to scoot closer to the wall. Ballsy! Duncan straightened his shoulders and leaned forward. He… sniffed.

“You two are stirring up a lot of shit in a town that has seen its share and doesn’t need any more.”

“Hello to you, too,” Armi said, more than a little bit testy.

Nelson looked at her, hard. “I don’t have time for niceties. Neither do you. Just… eat, screw each other silly if the spirit moves you again, then get the hell out of town. And whatever you do, leave Molly out of it.”

Armi wanted to respond to the screwing comment, but the timing didn’t seem right. Maybe his room was next to theirs. Maybe that squeaky bed was louder than she’d realized. In the scheme of things, it didn’t matter. Instead she asked, “What did Molly do to make half the town resent her? She seems perfectly nice. I don’t get it.”

Nelson looked her in the eye. “She trusted the wrong man. She let him work his way into her life and into her mind. Her crime was being vulnerable, and she made mistakes some won’t let her forget. Don’t make her a part of this. Build your army elsewhere.”

Duncan said, “It has to be here.”

Nelson pointed to Duncan accusingly. “Gather up more of your kind and put them to work. Magic is everywhere now, you know that well, I suspect. Don’t you have brothers, cousins, long lost relatives who can help you do your thing?”