Rock Candy: An Ordinary Magic Story Read online

  “What does this even mean?” I asked him.

  He dropped his arm back around me. “It’s not a big deal. I’m gonna look after them. They’ll listen to me. I’ll have a bunch of little buddies every October. It’s going to be fun.”

  “You can do that?”

  “I can now.”

  “A duck,” Myra guessed.

  “Would that be frightening?” Death asked.

  “On you? Probably.”

  “Perhaps you will invite me in.” Death wasn’t a vampire. He didn’t need an invitation to enter a place. So I wasn’t surprised to hear their footsteps coming our way.

  “Are we good?” I asked Delaney.

  She stood, putting herself between Death and the gnome head.

  I stood too. So did Hogan. Now that Abner was alive and done with the zombie thing and the knock-knock jokes, there was no reason for Death to kill him.

  Two cops, a baker, and the head of a gnome stared down Death.

  “I see that my services are no longer needed,” he said.

  “Hogan took care of the zombie gnomes,” Delaney said. “Unless you have some other business here you should tell me about?”

  “Death is a shadow, Reed Daughter. Death does not share his To-Do list.”

  I snorted a laugh.

  “Well, you can’t stay here on vacation,” Delaney said. “But this is the night when the veil is the thinnest. There is precedence to all manner of gods and monsters having some fun in the mortal world. If you decide to stay, I won’t tell you to leave.”

  “I don’t believe I was here to ask for your permission, Reed Daughter.”

  “Moth?” I asked. Because I couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to be either.

  He wore a black suit that appeared to be stiff and dusted with ashes. Tattered gray wings drooped on his back, and he was holding a huge ceramic mug of coffee in one hand that was very clearly illustrated by a hand holding up a defiant middle finger.

  Death sighed. “It is my understanding that Halloween is intended to be frightening.”

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “Therefore I chose a frightening costume.”

  “But what are you supposed to be?” I asked.

  “Monday.”

  Hogan started laughing first. We were all right behind him. I kept a close eye on Death’s face. He didn’t smile, but there was a twinkle in his eye and one eyebrow raised.

  “I also understand that some mortals laugh when they are terrified,” he said. “Therefore, I will not punish you for your reactions.”

  Wow, that was almost a joke.

  “That’s good,” Delaney said. “And as long as you follow Ordinary’s rules during this very small window of time while you are here, I hope you enjoy the event.”

  “Are you not attending?”

  He took a moment to glance at each of us. Probably noticed for the first time that none of us were wearing costumes, which was a crying shame. I mean, even Myra usually put on a pair of kitty ears.

  “We have a kidnapped penguin to find,” Delaney said. “And some gnomes to check in on.”

  “Ah,” Death said. “Perhaps this will help.” One minute he was just standing there. The next he was standing there with a very familiar penguin statue at his side.

  “You kidnapped the penguin?” I asked.

  “I merely assured it would come to no harm.”

  “And the little red devil horns it’s wearing?” Delaney asked.

  “In following the rules of Ordinary, I understand one can not kidnap the penguin unless one is willing to decorate it in such a manner as is blog-worthy.”

  I grinned and reached for my phone. “Yeah, we have got to get a picture of this.”

  And we did. The aloof, ashen angel of Monday, and the sweet little penguin with devil horns.

  I could already tell it was going to be my new favorite picture on the blog.

  “Shall we?” Death asked.

  “Shall we what?” Delaney asked.

  “Shall we attend the celebration?”

  “We don’t even have costumes,” I said.

  Delaney and Myra both reached into their pockets and pulled out head bands. Myra’s gave her kitty ears. Delaney’s gave her a unicorn horn.

  Delaney unzipped her coat to reveal the “Sparkle Hard, Baby” T-shirt she wore. Myra did her one better by having not only a leopard-print shirt, but by also having a kitty nose and whiskers to wear, and a cute little pink bell on a choker.

  “For real?” Because my sisters outdoing me on Halloween would simply not do.

  “At least you’re not in costume,” I said to Hogan.

  “Got it right here.” He pulled a white beard out of his pocket, attached it over his ears, then picked up Abner’s head. “I’m the gnome-whisperer. Want to see my amazing talking head?”

  Oh gods.

  “Say something, head,” Hogan said.

  “Something head,” Abner mimicked.

  Hogan laughed, and I rolled my eyes. I’d almost rather they went back to the knock-knock jokes.

  “Fine,” I said. “Give me a second. I’ll out-costume you all.”

  Because there was no way Jean Reed was going to do Halloween by half.

  Chapter Twelve

  We were officially on duty for the night. Halloween meant we had to keep track of petty mischief, but Ordinary didn’t have a lot of serious crime on this night. I chalked it up to half the town being full of monsters or people with powers who could put a stop to mailboxes being knocked over and trees being T.P.’d pretty quick.

  So while we each had to patrol some part of town, we each had at least part of the night off to do something fun too.

  And I wanted to do the Haunted Harbor.

  Lucky for me, Hogan wanted to do it too. I agreed to meet him at eleven so we could cruise through all the haunted houses before midnight.

  He was waiting for me in front of the first haunted house, a red rose in one hand and a gnome head in the other. Even the bushy white beard couldn’t hide how fine that man was. Couldn’t hide the look in his eyes when he saw me coming.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” he said as I made my way around a gaggle of ten-year-olds hyped up on so much sugar, I could practically taste it in the air around them.

  “Hey, yourself.” I stopped in front of him and smiled. “How’s your night going, Gnome Daddy?”

  He snorted. “We’re gonna have to come up with a sexier name than that.”

  “I’m not calling you master.”

  “Not in that costume, you’re not.”

  “Like it?” I held my arms out to the side and did a little pose.

  “You’re wearing a laundry basket.”

  “And wadded up socks. And some underwear.” I flicked at the clothing stuffed around me, and the hat I’d made out of a box of detergent. “Like Death said, Halloween is about being something people dread.”

  “You’re dirty laundry?”

  “Oh, yeah, baby. I’m all kinds of dirty.”

  He laughed and slipped the rose behind my ear. “Do you know what day it is?” He took my hand, pulled me close until my soft plastic basket buckled between us.

  “Halloween?”

  “Yes. Also, it’s our six-month anniversary.”

  “Oh,” I said. “It is.” I knew that. I’d been thinking about it for weeks. Was this a milestone for him? For us? And if it was a milestone, was it an important one, or just a little one?

  Maybe this was the point where we reassessed what we were doing, who we were together, what we wanted.

  Maybe this was the point where we said good-bye.

  “You know what I want to do to celebrate our first six months together?” He smiled, and shifted his hand so that it cupped my face, his thumb running gently across the curve of my bottom lip.

  “What?” I asked, lost in his eyes.

  “To do it again. And again. And again.”

  “That’s a lot of six months, Hogan.”

 
; “It is, isn’t it? I’m liking the sound of that. How about you?”

  A year with him? Two years? Three?

  “Yeah,” I said, a little too softly to be heard over the shrieks of fright around us. “Yes,” I said a little louder. “I’d like that too.”

  I searched his eyes. And I thought I saw words unsaid in their warm blue depth. I thought I saw love.

  I hoped he saw it in my eyes too. Because that’s what was in my heart. Solid as a rock, sweet as candy.

  “Can I tell you something?” I asked.

  “Go.”

  “I wished for something.”

  “Oh?”

  “Just now.”

  “And what was it?”

  “Everyone knows that if you tell someone what you wish for it won’t ever come true.”

  “So I have to guess?”

  “Or use your jinni powers to figure it out.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “I already know what it is.”

  “Do you?”

  “It’s written right here.” He brushed his thumb across my bottom lip again. He tipped his head down and gently nudged my face to the angle he wanted.

  Then he kissed me, with all his warmth, his heart, his joy. And I kissed him right back. No secrets between us.

  Yeah. Yes. This was exactly what I had wished for, exactly what my heart hoped for. Him. Us. Together. A promise. A wish. And all the time in the world to discover just how many ways we could make our dreams come true.

  Acknowledgments

  This Ordinary story wouldn’t have happened without my terrific beta readers, Dejsha Knight and Sharon Thompson. Thank you, ladies, for your input and support. Extra thanks to Sharon Thompson for the quick copy edit, and a big thank you also to Eileen Hicks for your sharp eyes.

  I’d also like to give a big thank you to the Deadline Dames and my fellow indie and hybrid writers who offered suggestions and plenty of encouragement along the way.

  To my family: thank you for keeping Halloween fun and joyous (all the parties, movies, trick-or-treating, and costumes!). It is the fond memories you crazy wonderful people have given me that made me want to write a story like this.

  Thanks to my husband Russ, and sons Kameron and Konner. You are the biggest joy in my life. Thank you for letting me be a part of your world. I love you. An extra shout-out goes to Kameron, virtual assistant extraordinaire, who has made everything easier and who came up with the “zombie accordion” line. See? I told you I’d give you credit.

  Lastly, but never leastly, I want to thank you, dear reader, for giving this story a try. I hope you enjoyed this taste of Ordinary and that you will come back again soon to catch up with the creatures and gods and people in Oregon’s quirky little beach town.

  For those wondering: yes, I have gnomes in my yard. They may or may not be headless.

  About the Author

  Devon Monk is a national best selling writer of urban fantasy. Her series include: Ordinary Magic, House Immortal, Allie Beckstrom, Broken Magic, and Shame and Terric. She also writes the Age of Steam steampunk series, and the occasional short story which can be found in her collection: A Cup of Normal and in various anthologies.

  She has one husband, two sons, and lives in Oregon. When not writing, Devon is drinking too much coffee, watching hockey, and knitting silly things.

  Want to read more from Devon?

  www.devonmonk.com

  Also by Devon Monk

  ORDINARY MAGIC

  Death and Relaxation

  Devils and Details

  Gods and Ends

  SHAME AND TERRIC

  Backlash

  HOUSE IMMORTAL

  House Immortal

  Infinity Bell

  Crucible Zero

  BROKEN MAGIC

  Hell Bent

  Stone Cold

  ALLIE BECKSTROM

  Magic to the Bone

  Magic in the Blood

  Magic in the Shadows

  Magic on the Storm

  Magic at the Gate

  Magic on the Hunt

  Magic on the Line

  Magic without Mercy

  Magic for a Price

  AGE OF STEAM

  Dead Iron

  Tin Swift

  Cold Copper

  Hang Fire (short story)

  SHORT STORIES

  A Cup of Normal (collection)

  Yarrow, Sturdy and Bright (Once Upon a Curse anthology)

  A Small Magic (Once Upon a Kiss anthology)