Night Shift (25 page)

N
othing the next day went as planned. Nothing.

While the inhabitants of Midnight were preparing themselves for one crisis, which would fall in one more day, another presented itself without any of them seeing it coming—even Manfred, the psychic.

Just at eight o’clock in the morning, a big vehicle rumbled into town from the east. Joe and Chuy were running the water (the shower and the sink respectively), and they didn’t hear the sound as anything special. It roused Teacher, though, because he’d driven a vehicle that sounded like that at one point in his life. He pulled on his shoes and hurried out of his trailer.

No one in the hotel, except the man who lived in the front room overlooking the pawnshop, gave it a second’s thought. And he only thought how out of place it seemed.

The rumble gradually subsided into silence in front of Midnight Pawn. Lemuel’s shift was over and Bobo hadn’t come down yet, so no one came out of the shop to see what was happening.

“This vehicle is an abomination,” the Rev whispered, when he heard the noise of the motor. He was kneeling in prayer before the bare altar in his church.

The Rev liked to start the day with prayer. Diederik lived with the Rev, so his attendance was obligatory, and that morning Quinn had joined them, too. The Rev had spent the previous day reducing a chunk of hawthorn tree to ash, and Quinn had to put the ash in a bucket. But all that was on hold as the Rev cut short his prayer and the three men came out of the church to look at the abomination.

“That’s a stretch Hummer,” Quinn told Diederik, who had never seen one before. Since Quinn was an event planner, he was well versed in ostentatious vehicles.

Diederik was impressed, but Quinn saw that the Rev was having a bad reaction to the Hummer. The older man’s eyes went golden. He was sensing a threat, so his tiger was getting close to the surface. At his age, the Rev could change any time he wanted, as could Quinn. But Diederik still had to have the moon’s help, so if it came to fighting . . . Quinn laid his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You have a key, I think. Run. Wake Olivia. Tell Bobo to get out of the shop.
Hurry.
”

Diederik streaked across the road to unlock the side door of the pawnshop. He disappeared inside. Standing on that landing, he could yell upstairs for Bobo and downstairs for Olivia.

There were men getting out of the Hummer, now, men as unlike the Rev and himself as it was possible to get. They wore suits but with gun belts underneath. They had rifles in their hands. They looked in all directions. They might as well have had “HIGH-CLASS HOODS” tattooed on their foreheads. There were five of them, plus the driver, who got out but remained by the vehicle.

This looked a lot like a small invasion.

Quinn didn’t want to transform in public in broad daylight, but he didn’t have a weapon, and he was certain he was going to need one. He wished he hadn’t sent Diederik into the pawnshop, a wish that was confirmed when he saw all the armed men turning toward it.

The pawnshop was the target.

The newcomers began to move in the direction of the front door. They walked spread out, not in a clump; they knew what they were doing, Quinn thought. The men were watchful, glancing from side to side, but they seemed not to fear the Rev or Quinn, maybe because the two stayed still.

Quinn couldn’t risk making a move, though, not until Diederik reappeared. Every second made him tenser. Just as he was about to run across the street to put himself between the invaders and the pawnshop, the Rev took an unexpected step.

“Fiji!” the Rev bellowed in his deep voice, and out of her front door the witch popped. Fiji looked like a fluffy puppet in her nightgown and rose-colored bathrobe. Her eyes widened as she took in the armed men and their approach to the pawnshop. Then she came off her porch and down the path to the sidewalk, her hands held ready as if she were about to perform surgery. Her zebra-striped slippers thwacked against the concrete in the eerie silence.

Not too surprisingly, the invaders did not recognize Fiji as a threat until she got halfway across the road. And then she froze them.

“I feel like a one-trick pony,” Fiji said. The Rev ran to stand by her. Quinn was right on his heels. Quinn stopped to examine the closest gunman, as still as a department store dummy. He was so overwhelmed with relief that he couldn’t find the voice to tell Fiji how grateful he was.

“No shame in that, if the trick works,” the Rev said practically. He began going from man to man, divesting each one of weapons and telephones. The telephones were Quinn’s suggestion, and Quinn helped.

Bobo unlocked the front door of the pawnshop as if he were opening for business on an ordinary day. But he stepped out with a shotgun in his hands.

Fiji, who had set the spell firmly, was going from man to man in the Rev’s wake, looking into each face to make sure the man was good and frozen.

“They all seem good for ten more minutes,” she pronounced. “Enough time for Olivia to come check ’em out.”

“You sure she needs to be here?” Bobo said. “She might want to start getting in some licks. Olivia’s not going to turn down an advantage. Why can’t we just call Arthur Smith? Any reason why we wouldn’t?” He looked hopeful.

“I think this is about Olivia,” Fiji said with conviction.

Quinn thought so, too. Then he expelled a lungful of relief, because Diederik exploded through the front door with Olivia at his heels.

Olivia strode down to the loose cluster of men, gun in her hand and an incredulous look on her face. “You did this?” she asked Fiji.

“I did,” Fiji replied, her hands held ready at her sides. Olivia spared a second look for Fiji’s bathrobe and slippers.

“Good work,” Olivia said, with a straight face.

“Looks like the word of your marriage really did
stir something up
,” Fiji said to Olivia in tones of the deepest sarcasm.

Quinn saw Teacher Reed running across the road. Teacher was carrying a shotgun, too.

“You coming to help these men out?” the Rev called, and his voice hung over them like the reverberation of a bell. All the Midnighters turned to look at Teacher.

“No! I’m coming to protect Olivia!” Teacher yelled back.

“Protect. Huh!” Olivia said. “I wish Lem were awake. He’d love this.” She walked over to the front door of the limo. “Let’s see who rented this baby.” The driver was one of the men with guns. She glanced inside the driver’s seat, but evidently she saw no paperwork, so she went to the back. Fiji had reached the fourth gunman, but she caught Olivia’s movement from the corner of her eye.

“Olivia! I didn’t check inside!” Fiji yelled at the same moment the Rev bellowed, “Wait!” But Olivia flung open the limo door, and there was loud crack of noise. Olivia seemed to be pushed back a step, and then she folded to her knees.

Olivia fell over sideways, still trying to raise her own gun.

And Fiji, with a wide-eyed intensity, dropped to her knees by Olivia, but she did not look down at her friend. Instead, she looked inside the Hummer. Her face was like nothing Quinn had ever seen. It shone with power and determination and a complete lack of pity. Fiji extended her hand, and she
concentrated
.

The man inside began screaming. And he didn’t stop until he was dead.

After it was over, Fiji sagged to one side, exhausted. She couldn’t say a word, or stand. But by then the ambulances were there, because the Midnight luck had run out. A passerby who’d stopped for gas at the convenience store had seen the shooting. He’d run inside Gas N Go to get away from the bullets, and he’d called the police.

Within seven minutes of the call, the town was overrun with law enforcement. But in that seven minutes, the Midnighters worked hard. Teacher was positioned with his (perfectly legal, he assured them) shotgun pointing at the invaders, who were sort of walked into a close formation by Quinn. He found it was like moving department store dummies, too, but they were quite a bit heavier.

The Rev put the guns and telephones in a heap in the pawnshop parking area. Bobo and Teacher stood guard. Diederik was sent into Fiji’s house to keep out of sight, since he had no official existence. Sylvester simply stayed in Gas N Go, Madonna and Grady stayed in their trailer, Chuy and Joe in their shop. Manfred, who’d poked his head out just in time to see Fiji take action, closed his front curtains and laid low. The hotel people were all out on the sidewalk, craning and marveling.

Fiji released the imported gunmen from her spell just at the right moment as the police arrived. They all swung around belligerently, confused and angry at having been disarmed and corralled, which they didn’t remember at all. The police asked Teacher and Bobo to put down their weapons, which they did gladly and with every appearance of being glad the police were there to take over the bad guys . . . one of whom was unwise enough to take a swing at Deputy Garcia. She cuffed him in the blink of an eye.

As the police got the situation sorted out, and EMTs began to work on Olivia and Fiji, who was unconscious, Lemuel slept the sleep of the dead. Diederik sat in The Inquiring Mind looking out the window as his dad had ordered him to do. The boy was distraught at the sight of Fiji and Olivia being strapped onto gurneys and lifted into the ambulances. But he could see Quinn was not in handcuffs and the police were listening to him, so Diederik knew at least that part of it would be all right.

“If Olivia’d gotten shot at night,” Quinn said to Bobo very quietly, “we could have just carried her downstairs to Lemuel.”

Bobo looked a little shocked. “Do you think that’s what she’d have wanted?”

Quinn nodded. “I think so. If she gets through this, we’d better ask her.”

“She just has to recover,” Bobo said. “And Feej has to be okay. She just has to.”

“I’ve seen this before. I think she’s exhausted from using such big magic,” Quinn said, trying to sound reassuring. “And she’s never killed anyone before, I’m sure. That’ll take it out of you.”

But Bobo, after he’d been accepted as one of the good guys, sat on the front steps of the pawnshop and stared into a future too bleak to endure.

He tried three times to get into his truck and go to Davy to be with the Midnight wounded, but the police wouldn’t let him. They had too many questions to ask.

F
iji woke up in the hospital, shivering and bewildered.
I killed someone.
That was the first thing she remembered.

He’d been gray-haired and mean-looking, the pleasure and triumph of shooting Olivia still stretching his lips into a smile.

That had sent Fiji off the deep end. It almost didn’t matter that he was about to shoot Fiji, too. She’d unleashed death at him. It hadn’t been a real spell, but sheer will. As she lay in the pale green hospital room all by herself, she wondered where the power had come from. As best as Fiji could remember, she’d simply had a clear, consuming, conviction that this man must die for what he had done to Olivia.

And he had died, but not quickly. His face had turned blue and his mouth had foamed, and he’d screamed with a dreadful catch, as though finding the air for screaming was a struggle. Then he’d kind of rattled deep in his throat. That had been that.

A girl in scrubs came in and bent over to look at Fiji. “How do you feel, Miss Cavanaugh?” she said.

“Cold,” Fiji said through trembling lips.

“I’ll get you another blanket.”

Fiji nodded, and soon felt deft hands spreading another blanket over her. She was so grateful she could have cried.

“Is that better?” the girl asked.

“Yes, thanks. How is my friend?”

“Your friend?”

“The woman brought in same time as me. Been shot.”

“She’s in surgery, but don’t worry about her. She’s got a good doctor working on her. She’s in good hands.”

This was not real information. She was being soothed. Fiji expected that next the nurse would offer to pray with her. “I need something a little more specific than that,” she said, but her voice was too weak to have authority.

“Now that you’re awake, a doctor’s going to come talk with you,” the nurse said. “She’ll be here in just a minute.”

It was more than a minute. In fact, Fiji went back to sleep. She woke when an older woman in a white lab coat came in.

“Ms. Cavanaugh, I’m Dr. Sheridan,” the woman said. Her gray hair was in a smooth pageboy, and her glasses, hanging from a chain, had flirty red frames. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

Fiji decided to tell the truth with some omissions. “I saw my friend Olivia get shot and I went to pull her to safety,” she said slowly, editing as she spoke. She was finally feeling warm, and her voice came out stronger. She’d stopped shivering. “When I saw the man in the car who had shot Olivia, he pointed the gun at me. I was really scared he was going to shoot me, and I couldn’t protect Olivia or myself. Then his hand kind of fell on the car seat, and he had a fit, I guess? I was just . . . I couldn’t breathe, and I thought he was going to kill me, and maybe I fainted.”

“I don’t think you fainted, which is a momentary thing,” Dr. Sheridan said gently. “I’m not sure if you hyperventilated, or had a severe panic attack, or both, but you were unconscious for a good ten minutes. We have to rule out some kind of heart event.”

“So that’s a long time to be out?” Fiji said.

“That’s a long time to be out.” Dr. Sheridan was obviously trying to make Fiji understand that she’d suffered a serious event, while trying to avoid setting off another “panic attack.”

“When you came into the emergency room, we ran an EKG, and the results were fine, so that’s good news. Your blood work isn’t all back, of course, but nothing popped out at a first look.”

“I kind of remember that,” Fiji said, trying out a smile. She’d been woozy but awake by that time. “Aside from feeling really tired, I feel much better now.” Fiji knew exactly what was wrong with her. She’d strained her “magic muscles” when she’d channeled too much energy into killing the old man. She suspected she’d probably expended way more energy than she’d actually needed to use, and in consequence her body had shut down to protect its depleted resources.

She’d know better next time.

For a few minutes, the doctor took Fiji over her medical history, which was very simple and blameless, and then over her family’s medical history, which was quite typical of any fairly healthy family.

By the time that was done, Fiji had decided she liked Dr. Sheridan.

“I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better. But you need to consider having some tests run. We sure don’t want to see you back here again.” The doctor smiled at Fiji benevolently. Fiji had been enjoying the conversation, because it was free of the man she’d killed and the demon under the road and who she was going to have sex with. But now she felt tired, and reality crept up on her again.

“Let’s talk about any more tests later,” Fiji said. “I’m really feeling better.”

“Of course. Right now, the sheriff wants to talk to you. Do you think you’re well enough to do that?”

“Yes,” Fiji said. “Thanks for everything.”

Arthur Smith himself came in. Fiji was both glad and sorry to see him. Arthur was in uniform, and he looked tired, but he also seemed curiously content. After a second, Fiji decided that Arthur looked relaxed. So apparently he hadn’t been, the whole time she’d known him.

“Hey, Fiji, how are you feeling?” He reached to take her hand, and then withdrew his own so quickly Fiji almost thought she had imagined the gesture. Perhaps he had rethought it after remembering she had some explaining to do.

“Better,” she said. Now that her core was warm, she felt drowsy. She wished passionately that she were home in her own bed with Mr. Snuggly purring beside her. After all, she was still in her own nightgown, though her bathrobe was hanging on a hook on the wall, her slippers on the floor underneath it.

“Did anyone check on Mr. Snuggly?” she asked, suddenly afraid something had happened to the cat.

“I saw him,” Arthur said. “The kid in your shop coaxed him out from under the Hummer.”

Fiji stared at Arthur. “He was under the car,” she said, almost asking a question. “Oh, poor Snug,” she added hastily. “He must have been terrified.”

“The boy carried him off, and I didn’t see them again,” Arthur said.

Fiji relaxed. Diederik would feed and take care of Mr. Snuggly, or the cat would nag him relentlessly. Now if only Arthur didn’t start asking questions about Diederik. His lack of paperwork would be awkward.

“If you feel you’re up to it, I do have some questions to ask you,” Arthur said. He was standing by the bed rail, gripping it lightly.

“Sure,” she said, trying to make her own hands relax. “About the shooting.”

“Sure. Had you ever seen that man, the one in the stretch Hummer?”

“Never.”

“Any of those men familiar to you?” Arthur’s wide blue eyes were fixed on her face.

“No.” It was a pleasure to tell the plain truth.

“What happened? Just take your time. We’re trying to figure this out. Every detail helps.”

Fiji was glad he’d told her to take her time. She did. “I heard all the commotion across the street, and I came running out,” Fiji said. (Best to omit that the Rev had called her. That was not explainable.) “The Rev and Quinn were standing in my front yard. Diederik was just going in the side door of the pawnshop, or maybe Quinn told me he’d gone in. I don’t remember which.”

Arthur nodded, to show her he was listening.

“I saw all the men had guns. They were moving toward the pawnshop. Slowly.”

“Did you realize there was someone left in the Hummer?” Arthur asked quietly.

“I never thought about it at all. The windows were tinted dark. The doors on the pawnshop side were open.”

“What happened next?”

“I thought all the men were going to go into the pawnshop. I was scared for Bobo. And Olivia and Lemuel.” Fiji took a deep, shuddering breath, remembering the fear. If she had really been uncertain how she felt about Bobo, she now knew. “Then Diederik and Olivia came out. And Bobo.”

“Do you have any idea, however out there, about why these armed men would be going into the pawnshop?” Arthur’s voice was gentle, but his eyes were intent.

“No,” she said. “I was stunned.”

“
Someone
has to know why those men showed up,” Arthur said. “They’re not talking, except to ask for a lawyer.”

“Maybe Olivia can tell us? How is she?” Fiji asked cleverly. Information!

“Still in surgery, and it’ll be a while before she can talk,” Arthur said.

“Can you tell me about her?”
Dammit, someone’s got to tell me.

“About her wound? Not in any detail. One of my deputies talked to the doctor who’s operating, and he seemed fairly certain she’d pull through.”

“Good.”

“Fairly certain” was something.

“Just a few more questions? I can tell you’re tired.” Arthur looked concerned, and he might be, but he was also a cop.

Fiji nodded.

“What happened to Ellery McGuire?” Arthur said.

“Who . . . ? That’s the name of the man in the limo? The one who shot Olivia?”

“Yes. The guy who was filling up his car at Gas N Go said you stretched out your hand to him. What was that about?”

“I begged him not to shoot again,” Fiji said. “He was pointing the gun at me, and Olivia was bleeding.” She shook her head. “It was horrible.” And it had been. She could feel again that burning intensity that had seized her when she’d realized what she must do.

“He didn’t think you spoke. The witness.”

“I’m not saying I made a speech. But I said at least, ‘No, no!’”

“Okay. Then what happened?”

Then I killed him.
“He sort of crumpled and his hand dropped,” Fiji said, as she’d told the doctor. “And he turned really white, and stuff came out of his mouth. I guess he’s dead?” She’d known he was dead, but she had to play this out.

“Yes. He’s dead. But you had no weapon, right? So you couldn’t have harmed him physically.”

“I had no gun or Taser or anything,” she said truthfully. “I just wanted him to
stop
. I was so scared that Olivia was dead.” And she shuddered, remembering Olivia’s blank eyes and the blood coming out of her abdomen. And knowing Lemuel was asleep and could not wake to save her. And knowing this meant the hospital, and the chance Olivia would really die.
And being very, very angry.

Fiji began to cry, and that pushed Arthur to finish up in a hurry.

“She’s not dead, Fiji,” he said, in as comforting a voice as he could manage. “And we have all the attackers under arrest. I don’t know how Bobo and Teacher rounded them up, but they had those assholes under control.”

“But those assholes are not talking?” She was really curious how they were going to explain their presence.

“Not a squeak.” Arthur’s mouth pulled down at one corner. “Not until their lawyers get here.”

“Smart,” Fiji said. “And professional. I want to go home.”

“You’ve got some insurance,” he said, smiling. “Why not stay a while? The doctor wants you to spend the night, make sure you’re okay.”

“She seems like a nice woman,” Fiji said. “But there’s nothing wrong with me that time and rest won’t cure. I was just overstressed and really scared and I blacked out.”

“That’s between you and the doctor,” Arthur said. “You feel like having some company?”

“I guess,” she said, cautiously. Depended on who the company was.

To her mild surprise, Chuy Villegas came in. Chuy was wearing his usual casual clothes: khakis, a polo shirt, loafers. He looked as unlike an angel with wings as she could imagine.

He put his hands on hers. After glancing over his shoulder to make sure Arthur was out of hearing, Chuy said, “Thanks to you we are all alive.”

“I don’t understand,” Fiji said.

“If you hadn’t cut off the head of the snake, I think they would have gone through Midnight killing everyone they encountered to cover up the fact that Olivia was the target.”

“Surely . . . you can’t be killed?” She felt almost embarrassed, pointing that out.

“But they didn’t know that,” he said. “And getting shot always hurts.”

Fiji didn’t want to take any credit that wasn’t her due. “I killed a man, Chuy. On purpose. I only thought of saving Olivia from getting shot again.”

“You did what was necessary. Don’t fear judgment from Joe and me. We live under the old code,” Chuy reminded her. His voice was cool and stern.

“I wonder if I can go home soon,” she said. She couldn’t think of right and wrong any longer.