But before he could message, D messaged first: [
Luca grinned and typed back: [
It was because of Luca that D had even joined the Philosophers’ Stones Guild. D was an amazing player, but had a low threshold for dealing with others, unless it came to repeatedly killing their avatars.
Before D could finish entering his response, Luca added: [I’m not back yet though. I’m still out with my friends. We’re just moving venues because of a bar fight.]
D: [
Luca raised his eyes from his phone as they crossed a street. These were two-lane roads and extremely narrow because of the cars parked on both sides. If two cars were going in opposite directions, one would have to try to pull off to the side between the parked cars to allow the other to pass. There weren’t even lines painted on these roads. When he was safely on the uneven sidewalk again, he replied: [
D: [
D had simply accepted that Chief of Police was somehow behind Don’s death. He never second-guessed it, or tried to play devil’s advocate. Even Luca’s father had done this, even though he’d known Don. “The police know what they’re talking about,” Tony had said. “Not to say cops can’t do bad things, but they’re mostly good people. They’d never allow them to have badges if they weren’t.”
Luca: [
D: [I’m searching the Beverly Hills Chief of Police. Her name is Mina Lauren.]
Luca groaned. He’d lied to D, told him he lived in Beverly Hills, that his father was a real estate tycoon. But why was D bothering to Google this information anyway?
“What’s wrong?” Nick looked over his shoulder and stopped, the street lamp lighting his pale blue sportsball jersey. “And how are you doing that and not falling? This sidewalk’s a mess.”
“I can type and watch my feet,” Luca said. He knew the place of all the keys, though autocorrect sometimes intervened in weird ways. For example, when he had D discussed their gladiator rankings, the phone always wanted to change “Kings Rank” to “Kong’s Rank.” He’d never once typed the word “Kong” that he could recall.
Nick propped a hand against the wooden telephone pole. “Who’re you even talking to? Did you not notice we’re right here? We haven’t seen each other since January twenty-second—”
“Seventeenth,” Tschida said. “Keep walking. These discussions can be easily had at Nick’s, where we are behind walls.”
Luca sighed in relief as the three returned to walking so he could respond to D. Not responding right away probably sounded suspicious after he’d been caught in a lie.
“Who’re you talking to?” Nick asked again, this time not looking over his shoulder.
“Just an online friend,” Luca said casually, but felt a stab of guilt. D wasn’t just anything; he’d become Luca’s lifeline, and one he might be about to lose. He typed: [I live on the outskirts. BH is the nearest hub.] People in Beverly Hills probably called it “BH,” just like people in his state called Pennsylvania “PA.”
D: [I need to visit you, especially if you are having trouble. Your local officials need to learn their place; this would not be the first time I’ve put officers in their place. I have no problem applying my boot to a throat, so to speak, so long as they’re willing to replace my boots later.]
D did have a butler; his family had to have a lot of power and influence, or maybe he’d earned it on his own. But it was still odd.
“Talking to computer people at a time like this…” Nick muttered. He did have a point, but it was difficult to speak with Nick and Tschida.
Luca typed back to D: [
D: [
Luca clutched his phone tightly. Someone else wanted to protect him. His brain started to protest that D didn’t really know him, but D probably knew him better now than even Tschida and Nick. He spoke with D every day. Even if D didn’t know much about Luca’s real life, at least not financial and work situation, they’d had plenty of deep conversations. But how long could he keep relying on others? Did he need three men here to protect him?
He stared at Tschida’s stiff back. While Nick slouched, Tschida strode at his full height. Even these strong, able men were terrified of the police. He remembered Ryan’s cold face as he’d thrown his punches that day in the locker room. Ian Janowski had been in the hospital for two weeks to pay for years of bullying.
“Put your phone down,” Tschida said, though he came to a stop. “We have to run.”
Luca thrust his phone into his pocket as his heart clenched in panic. Blue and red lights flashed on chipped siding and chain-link fences on the street bisecting theirs.
Nick started to turn around, but Tschida grabbed his arm. Nick glared at his friend’s fingers clutching his forearm, obviously annoyed at the touch.
Tschida didn’t release Nick, as if afraid he’d run at their enemies, cursing and threatening. “Not back the way we came. The cops will be there. Into an alleyway, now.”
Fortunately, there were many alleys between the closely-packed double-block homes. These dark spaces were mostly used to house garbage cans, and Luca knew from high school, the occasional tryst if you didn’t want to get caught by your parents. When Luca had hid in the alley alongside his own home, it was always more for the girl’s sake; his own father’s anxieties might have been eased had he caught Luca. Hell, Tony had even conspicuously left a box of condoms under the bathroom sink. Nick had used most of these, as St. Jonah’s preached abstinence for its foster boys.
Tschida pulled Nick behind him and led them into one of the alleys. Nick and Luca followed suit and crouched behind the two black plastic garbage cans. Nick’s eyes shifted left to right, his jaw clenched. Luca could guess part of his discomfort was from being packed so shoulder-to-shoulder with his friends.
“So, we just stay here?” Nick whispered, shifting his gaze to the sliver of dark, overcast sky visible between the eaves. It looked like rain.
“No.” Tschida folded his hands between his knees. “They might do a sweep of the alleys.”
“Couldn’t we hide in the garbage cans?” Luca rose only as much as necessary to slowly and quietly lift the plastic lid of a can. “This one’s almost full. Guess it would look suspicious with bags sitting outside the cans.” He didn’t really like the idea of shutting himself in a tight and foul-smelling space, but it was still preferable to a cell.
“Three of us and two cans. No. We need to plan—” Tschida stopped abruptly as nails clicked on the concrete.
A small Shiba Inu trotted into the alley. Luca right away looked for a collar, but its neck was bare. No footsteps followed to indicate a concerned human pursued it. Tail wagging wildly, it scampered to the three men.
Tschida frowned at the dog. “This is a problem.”
Luca couldn’t help but smile, even in the dire circumstances. The pup was so floofy and happy. He scooped the dog into his lap and held him against his chest. “We can’t just leave him.”
“Your good will is going to be the death of us all tonight,” Tschida said darkly. “If it were anyone but you, I’d abandon you to your fate. This dog is not going to help anything but ensure we spend a night or longer in jail.”
“That’s where you’re wrong!” the perky voice came from Luca’s arm.
“Huh?” Luca fell back onto his hands in surprise. Did the dog have a hidden microphone somewhere?
“Uhh…” Nick jumped up, back against the wall.
“Yes, I’m speaking. Jennifer – Jennifer Rehgio, because there are a lot of Jennifers – said to tell you to get over your surprise.” The dog pawed at Luca’s shin. His muzzle even opened and closed when he spoke.
“Jennifer…Rehgio.” Luca sucked in breaths of muggy air. Sis.
“Yes! I’m Don’s old best friend, before he met all of you.” The dog stood on his hind legs, resting his paws on Luca’s shoulder and sniffing at his ear. “Your hair smells like berries.”
“T-Trinket?” Luca remembered the old picture in the plastic frame sitting on Don’s nightstand – the little boy hugging the fluffy pup against his chest in front of the chain link fence of the house where he’d lived with his grandmother. That picture was from a sunnier, happier time.
“Luca, you’re talking to a dog,” Nick said, anger creeping into his voice. “I’m hearing the dog talk back. Dogs don’t talk.” His back was pressed against the siding as he glared down at Trinket.
“Yes, Luca and I are talking, Nick.” Trinket dropped back to all four and turned his attention to the tallest of the trio. “Jennifer is taking care of all of Northeastern County pets at the Rainbow Bridge now. You’re hiding from bad humans, right? I can help!”
“I cannot think too deeply about this,” Tschida said, peering at the dog, a dog that died nearly two decades ago. Tschida was right where he’d been, silently watching the surreal exchange. “If we stay here longer, we may get caught. I don’t believe this a mass hallucination either; it wouldn’t make sense for all of us to imagine a dog we’d never met in person. Yet, a dog cannot be talking, let alone a dead dog. Why are you here, dog?”
“Jennifer sent me from the Rainbow Bridge,” Trinket said, backing away from Tschida until his bottom hit the siding of the house on the opposite side of the alley from Nick. His tail stopped wagging. “When our humans died, they didn’t come to get us. They’re supposed to do that. It’s just the pets in Northeastern County. We just have each other and Jennifer; she can’t cuddle all of us at once.”
“So, Jennifer is running an afterlife pet rescue,” Tschida said calmly. What was he thinking? “What does this have to do with us?”
“We don’t know how or why, but…” Trinket whined and lowered his forelegs and head. “There’s something here trapping souls so they can’t move on. There’s something evil here. Jennifer can’t figure out what it is, and we don’t know either.”
“But Jennifer’s soul wasn’t trapped?” Tschida still spoke as if he were questioning a lesson in history class, when he brought up some historical knowledge the teacher didn’t even know. Tschida had been that student.
“This sounds like magic,” Luca muttered. “Soul-trapping? It sounds like something out of a fantasy novel or video game.”
Trinket yipped. “I don’t know much about the soul-trapping, except that my boy never came to get me, even though he isn’t alive anymore.” He gave a pained cry, his paw flicking sadly at a patch of weeds that had sprung up between the cracked concrete.
Don’s in trouble? Was this real? Tschida’s acting like it is.
Tschida grabbed Nick’s arm and pulled him down as a police car slowly drove by. “We can discuss this later, when we’ve avoided an arrest.”
Breaks squealed, as if a car were slowing down, followed by the sound of an engine idling.
“This is definitely magic, because nothing else can steal souls,” Trinket said, perking up again. “Jennifer chose the three of you to fight whatever this is with your own magic, if you accept the magic from the Rainbow Bridge.”
Luca wanted to know more about this soul-trapping evil that allegedly still tormented Don even after death. Don deserved to be somewhere better than Northeastern County in the afterlife.
A car door closed. “Thought I saw something in an alley on Canary Road,” came a man’s voice.
“If they will get us out of here, yes, we all accept,” Tschida whispered. “Now, hurry.”
“H-hold on!” Nick held up a hand.
“Nick, just go with this,” Luca whispered. They were getting something special, something he couldn’t comprehend right now. He still expected to wake up, even if he didn’t want to. If this were real, he might be able to better help others.
Trinket screwed up his face, his cheeks bulging, eyes crossing. He opened his mouth and unfurled a long tongue, revealing a large, pink crystal covered in drool.
Luca took the slimy stone that was about half the size of his palm. Nothing happened. What was he supposed to do with it? Was it used to cast spells or something?
Trinket did the same for Nick with a blue crystal, and finally Tschida with a green one.
Nick stood and bared his teeth, winding back the fist that clutched his glowing blue stone, as if he were a pitcher. “C’mon, bastard. See what happens when you get hit in the teeth with a magic rock.”
A voice crackled on the nearby radio, “Nothing on Brewery Lane, except some prostitutes. None of them look like that curly-haired girl. One’s got nice tits though. Might wanna stop by there later, Biff. Anything your way?”
Biff? Biff O’Halloran? The officer who’d shot that poodle? Luca remembered the name from several headlines.
“Just loading my gun,” came Biff’s voice. “I’m looking for three or maybe five, and one with purple hair. I haven’t seen anyone like that though. I’ll join you soon, Pat. Keep an eye on the cute one for me.”
“Don’t rush,” Pat’s voice crackled through the radio. “One of us is going to have to give something to the chief. I’m probably going to have to arrest at least one of these whores tonight.”
“If I find anything, I’ll call for backup,” Biff said. “If I even need it. Reports didn’t say any of them were armed. But five to one?”
“Yeah, you can say you were afraid for your life, especially if the two really tall guys are there,” Pat said with a chuckle.
In a burst of sparkles, Trinket was no longer a normal-looking Shiba Inu. His fur had become a bright purple, and pink, blue, and green butterfly wings sprouted from his back. They were thin and luminescent, as if they were carved from stained glass. No longer did he have pointed ears, but the long, floppy ears of a bunny. His body became leaner, like a feline. Even his tail was long and twitching. Most surprising was the prismatic horn sprouting from between his eyes.
Tschida closed his eyes, but Luca watched in fascination as Trinket spread his wings and nipped Nick’s wrist. “You don’t throw them. Press them to your hearts and think of Don and Jennifer, and all the others who are hurting! Think of how you’re hurting!”
“The hell was that?” came Biff’s voice, along with boots pounding on the pavement.
Luca, Nick, and Tschida did exactly as Trinket said.
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