Shotgun Sorceress - By Lucy A. Snyder Page 0,18

I understood more about what had happened to me when I’d stuck my hand into the Goad’s heart, I opened the door and stepped out into the forbiddingly dark basement.

A flashlight would be handy, I thought, and a moment later a slim black Maglite with a bright halogen bulb rested in my left hand. The metal felt cool and comfortable, absolutely solid and real.

I shone the light around the basement, seeing the chalked ritual sacrifice symbols on the floor, the music box, random crates and old furniture … and then there came a flash as the beam reflected off a length of sharp, polished steel. It was the sword that had emerged from the Warlock’s magic pendant, given to him by his mother as protection that hadn’t come to fruition until I wore it into the hell. I went over to the sword and picked it up; the blade was still streaked with dried devil ichor, but I could see no other signs of the Goad’s death in the room around me.

The basement, though apparently harmless now, was creeping me out. I had no desire to maintain a museum dedicated to the atrocities committed by Cooper’s stepfather and the Goad. If I truly had control of this place, couldn’t I make it look however I wanted it to? I closed my eyes, searching for a more pleasant surrounding. I’d loved the beach, but had only been there once or twice when I was a kid; I couldn’t quite feel the sand beneath my toes. I knew the Panda Inn like the freckles on my arms … but why re-create something I could visit for real whenever I felt like taking a short drive? And anyway, the Panda Inn was only fun because of Cooper and the Warlock. I didn’t know—and at that moment didn’t want to know—if I could create doppelgangers of them in here.

What did I know inside and out that I couldn’t visit anymore? Once I’d asked that question of myself, the answer came to me immediately as I imagined the old Craftsman bungalow that had been my home from my birth until my stepfather married Deb. I could see myself entering the front door after school, tossing my book bag down on the tweed La-Z-Boy recliner in the living room, and going past the library nook with its built-in shelves and cabinets down the hall to my haven.

I opened my eyes, and the dark basement had become my old bedroom, late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the miniblinds from beneath the wide eaves of the house. It was just as I remembered it: my stuffed animals lined up on the dresser, my Power 80 computer and a few comic books on a red wooden table in the corner, and my Buzz Lightyear comforter on the bed, complete with a pinkish stain on Buzz’s white boot where I’d spilled some grape juice. The big red portal door was set in the wall beside my closet; the My Neighbor Totoro poster my mother had given me was taped to the front. The only other difference was that I could see the jarred memories glowing in the dark beneath the bed, barely visible past the blue dust ruffle.

I set the flashlight down on the bed, leaned the sword against my dresser, and left my bedroom to explore the house. It seemed to be perfect down to the smallest detail. I found myself constantly surprised by little things I thought I had forgotten, like the Texas-shaped Six Flags souvenir ashtray my mother kept on the mantel for company. The place even smelled right: a combination of dust, furniture polish, and potpourri. On the other hand, if I had lost a memory entirely, how would I realize it was missing from this re-creation?

And the quiet of the place was eerie. The oak trees made a soft swish as the breeze blew through their branches, but no doves or mockingbirds called from the foliage, and no cars hummed or puttered on the streets nearby. The neighbor’s pugs should be barking, but weren’t. I stepped out on the broad front porch to see if I could hear anything, and I found the shield that had also been part of the pendant. Its bronze surface was also splattered with ichor from the Goad larvae I’d fought off.

The bitter, metallic smell of the ichor made me shiver, and suddenly the silent porch with its view of the trees and the other beautiful old houses seemed just

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