up here, of all places. Good Witch? Bad Witch? It was hard to tell, but most definitely the work of a Witch.
The call went straight to Landon’s voice mail. “Landon, we’ve got trouble. It’s about that damn box you brought to Becki’s last night. Didn’t you sense anything? Find me as soon as you get this message. We may need to call in some markers.”
Pressing the ‘end call’ button, he mentally rearranged his day. He would call Roger to meet him at the job site, hand off the punch list, then find Landon. They had to move this crate as soon as possible if they were to protect Becki from whatever might be inside.
“Can you get it opened?” Becki startled him as she spoke.
“Not now. I don’t have the right tools with me,” Kurt lied without hesitation. “I’ll get things started at the jobsite and then come back to pick it up. I have something at home I think might work to pry the lid off.”
“Ok, sounds good. I’m going to drink my coffee and work up the courage to face the day,” she said with a grimace.
“Go back to bed,” he urged forcing a grin. “You know you want to. I’ll walk around through the gate and grab it a little later.”
“Ok, but don’t go through it without me,” Becki stipulated.
“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you out of it,” Kurt promised as he opened the patio door, motioning for her to precede him into the house.
There was no way in hell Becki would be allowed anywhere near that crate once it had been opened. Kurt would simply tell her the crate had been empty and it had fallen apart from being sea-logged. The dumpster was being emptied tomorrow so he had disposed of it at the job site. He only hoped it would be that simple.
As Royce listened to their conversation, he surmised that Becki’s visitor knew more than the average civilian. As their voices drifted away, he pushed against the top of the crate once more hoping to force it open. Sean said the moon would trigger an unlock sequence, since it was now daylight, he assumed the crate should be opening soon. He only hoped it was soon enough.
“Sean! We have a problem,” Royce whispered urgently.
“I’m on it boss,” came the immediate reply.
#
Kurt wracked his brain, as he drove toward Charleston trying to remember what the symbols on the crate stood for. Most of them he could not decipher, but one appeared to resemble the moon. He had tried to pick the crate up, hoping to take it with him, but there was no possible way of moving it himself. Regardless of what Becki said, that damn thing was heavy.
Pulling his cell out to dial again, he waited for Landon to answer. Voice mail, again! Where the hell was Landon, and why was his phone going to voice mail?
“Call me as soon as you get this message,” Kurt barked into the phone, after dialing for the third time. “Did you notice markings on the lid of that damn crate? We are in real trouble here.”
Kurt slammed on the brakes as traffic stopped in front of him. “Great,” he muttered seeing traffic backed up half-way across the bridge.
Thirty minutes later he had not moved a single inch. Giving up the thought of moving off the bridge anytime soon, Kurt tried to call Landon again. This time, his call didn’t even go to voice mail. What the hell? He checked the display on his cell phone, no signal? What else could possibly go wrong? And then, with a certainty rooted deep in the pit of his stomach, he knew; Witches.
“Holy Mother of--,” he said leaping out of the truck not bothering to lock the doors. Feeling panic race through his body with every beat of his heart, he ran.
#
“It’s about damn time,” Royce muttered as the final strands of the spell floated away, taking with it the crate that had been his jail for the last two years.
The moon had worked magic during the night, as anticipated. Surprisingly the moon had triggered not only an unlocking sequence but had also included a self-destruct finale. It was a pretty clever way to tidy up, Royce acknowledged. By ending with a “self-destruct”, the spell had effectively eliminated any and all evidence of Witchy-meddling.
His body soon adjusted to the climate and pressure of the atmosphere, transforming him into a solid mass of lean muscle and strength. He stretched working out the kinks.