Part 21 (1/2)
”Oh, listen to Mister squeaky clean over here. I'm not the one walking in on someone else's girl with my p.e.c.k.e.r swinging in the breeze.”
”It wasn't swinging.”
”It was hard?”
”No, it wasn't hard.”
”Oh, it was cold. I get it. Say no more.”
”What? No. It wasn't cold. Screw you.”
”All right, forget it. Tell me what you did next.”
”What do you mean?”
”What did you do after you walked in on her?”
”h.e.l.l, what could I do? I apologized, backed out of the room and took a shower in the other bath.”
”Huh. Man, that does sound embarra.s.sing.”
”It was. I suppose that's why I had that dream about her last night.”
”You dreamed about Ursula?”
”Yes.”
”Was it a dirty dream?”
I tried to stifle a growing smirk. ”Well....”
”It was. Holy smoke. Stop the presses. This is great. Tell me everything.”
”No. I can't.”
”Why? Was it that perverted?”
”No. It was not perverted at all. It was sweet and tender.”
”Really?”
I gave in and laughed. ”Nah. It was erotic.”
”Then tell me.”
”I can't. Sorry. Pa.s.s me the salt.”
”Did you...you know?” Carlos gestured a jerking motion with his hand and made a squirting fountain noise.
”Carlos. See, this is why I don't tell you stuff like this. Now come on. Pa.s.s me the salt.”
”Tony, I'm here for you, man. Dirty dreams are my specialty. Now if I were you, I would”
His phone rang and stopped him in mid sentence. I pointed to the salt. ”Before you get that. Pa.s.s me”
”h.e.l.lo? Hey Billy. Yeah how are you?” He partially covered the phone to tell me it was his car salesman, Billy. I tried to tell him one more time to pa.s.s the salt, but he ignored me. ”What? No, we can talk. Tell me what you found.”
I put my fork down and reached across the table as far as I could. Still, my fingertips remained just out of reach of the salt. I could see Carlos watching me, yet he made no effort to a.s.sist. My frustration nearly peaked when something astonis.h.i.+ng happened. With just the thought of it, the saltshaker slid across the table the last several inches and into my hand on its own. Carlos' eyes grew wide. His jaw dropped and his phone clicked shut.
”I'll call you back,” he said, unaware he had already hung up. He looked at me in disbelief. ”How did you do that?”
I shrugged at the question, not exactly sure of the answer myself. ”I don't know. I think I just pulled off a level four spell.”
”A what?”
”Sure. See, witches categorize spells by levels of difficulty. A whisper box, for instance, is a level one. A beckoning spell say, that's a level two. Illusion spells are typically threes. A level four is when you get into some real magic. Fours consist of things like molecular modulation, or shape s.h.i.+fting. Then you have your fire lighting spells, the rite of pa.s.sage spell and bone reconst.i.tution, the spell that brought Ursula back.”
”Awesome.”
”I know. And of course, there is this one, the trans-molecular migration spell. It's the dissipation of stagnant resistance through matter redistribution.”
”What, so you're a molecular scientist now?”
”Look. Think of it as the thinning of ma.s.s between you and another object. When the ma.s.s, in this case air, thins to a near vacuum, it allows the thicker air behind the object to push it towards you. That's what happened here.”
He shook his head at that. ”This is amazing. Do it again.”
”Again? h.e.l.l I don't know how I did it the first time. I mean, ever since I saw Lilith do it, I bet I tried it myself a hundred times. This time I wasn't even trying.”
”It's the coven,” he said. ”You are becoming a super witch.”
I looked at my watch. ”And you're becoming a reason we might both get fired. Come on. Eat up. We have work to do.”
”What do you have in mind?”
”I want to stop at the railroad crossing where Delaney kissed the train the other night. Maybe look around. See if there's anything out of place.”
Carlos nodded, saving words so that he could shovel the rest of his breakfast down before I could finish mine. d.a.m.n if he didn't do it, too.
We had barely rolled out of the parking lot of the Perc, when Carlos noticed the black sedan that had tailed us the day before. ”They're back,” he said, looking into the rearview mirror.
”The sedan?”
”Yup.”
”Sure it's them?”
I watched his eyes ricochet from road to mirror and back again. ”It's them. Same tag.”
”All right. Let's switch places. Get him to pa.s.s us and we'll pull him over.”