Page 3 of No Surrender
“I think you’ve mistaken the trial for that Christmas story with the three spirits,” Vic bantered.
“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it,” Ross replied. “It worked for Scrooge.”
“I can’t help feeling like we’re waiting for the other shoe to fall after those creepy notes the prosecution received,” Vic said. “Worded just right to feel menacing without making an outright threat. Whoever sent them knew what they were doing.”
“And how to leave no traces,” Ross groused. “Which is scarier than the notes themselves.”
A week before, the District Attorney, presiding judge, and other members of the prosecution had received unsettling, anonymous notes. The paper, envelopes, stamps, and printer were so generic that they were untraceable, and they were freakishly devoid of fingerprints or DNA.
The notes read like disquieting fortune cookies, with ominous phrases that stopped short of actual threat. “Don’t make long-term plans.” “Are you sure you locked the door?” “Never take tomorrow for granted.” The police instituted heightened security precautions, and the legal team tried to balance safety against paranoia.
“Alright, enough with worrying about the trial,” Hargrove said, turning to refill his cup. “Back to work—unfortunately, Myrtle Beach still has other crooks to catch.”
Vic did his best to put the Slitter trial out of his mind for the rest of the day. Hargrove was regrettably right—there were plenty of other cases to handle, none of them requiring magic to cause murder or mayhem.
Vic:Things going okay today?He texted Simon not long after they’d watched the news report.
Simon:While I’m not a fan of the non-stop news about the trial, I admit it’s been good for business. We’ve booked several tours solid, plus a bunch of private readings and séances. I guess people want to find out if I’m real.
Vic:Sorry?Vic cringed. He wasn’t sure whether to feel bad about the surge in bookings considering the reason.
Simon:Guess we should have expected that this is what happens when you’re internet famous.If we’re going to put up with the hassle, at least we also get some paying customers out of it.
Vic:Any reporters show up?
Simon:None that got past the warding.Simon included a slyly-winking emoji.
Vic knew that Simon’s friend Miss Eppie had taught him several hoodoo methods for protecting the shop against evil. And that Simon used spells from a variety of magical traditions to reinforce the invisible safeguards on both the shop and the blue bungalow they called home.
Vic:Be careful. This case is bringing the weirdos out of the woodwork.
Simon:You too.
Captain Hargrove sent out for pizza rather than have anyone brave the pool of reporters who camped out in front of the department. Vic glanced out the window a few times and had to grudgingly admire their tenacity. He’d been on enough stakeouts to know how boring it was waiting for something to happen. Still, his empathy drew the line at breaking up that boredom by throwing himself to the wolves.
“These are for you.” Ross tossed several envelopes from the day’s mail toward Vic. “Looks like you lucked out on the junk today.”
“Bill.” Vic dropped his union renewal on the desk. “Crap.” He tossed an insurance solicitation into the garbage. He frowned, looking at the last piece. The return address looked familiar, so he opened the envelope. “I don’t remember ordering anything,” he murmured.
“Springsteen’s Glory Days tour?” The vintage concert ticket was difficult to find, and Vic was a true fan of The Boss.
He pulled it from the envelope and looked closely, eyes going wide when he realized the ticket was authentic.
“What’s that?” Ross asked, curious.
“Something I didn’t order—that’s too good to be true.” Vic handed the memento to Ross, who let out a low whistle.
“EvenIknow this shouldn’t have just shown up out of nowhere. Is it your birthday?”
Vic shook his head and winced as his stomach gurgled. “No. Not my birthday. And I don’t think the pizza is setting well.”
Ross gave him a look. “Tasted fine to me. Drink a soda.”
Vic headed for the vending machine, only to find himself running for the men’s room and lurching into a stall. He fell to his knees and tasted bile, then lost the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
He kept heaving until everything was gone, and he was sweating and shaking.
“Vic?” Ross’s worried tone told him that he’d been gone long enough to raise worry.
