Night of Jinxes, A Moonlight Dragon Short Story Read online

  Night of Jinxes

  A Moonlight Dragon Short Story

  Tricia Owens

  Copyright © 2016 Tricia Owens

  All rights reserved. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Read more from Tricia Owens at http://www.triciaowensbooks.com

  Moonlight Dragon series

  Descended from Dragons

  Hunting Down Dragons

  Trouble with Gargoyles

  Forged in Fire (coming soon)

  Rise of the Dragon (coming soon)

  Night of Jinxes, short story

  Night of Jinxes

  The voice on the phone said, "I'm going to kill you."

  Considering my phone was currently in Google maps mode, I was a tad concerned.

  I closed out the map program and checked to see if I'd somehow turned on the call feature or accessed my voice mail. The answer was no for both. My phone shouldn't have spoken to me in that flat, featureless voice and it sure as hell shouldn't have threatened me.

  "This might be a problem," I mused aloud.

  I wasn't one to freak out over nothing. I'd dealt with necromancers, vicious shapeshifters, demons straight from Hell, and I'd been bitten by a vampire, among other things. I knew what trouble was and what it wasn't. This wasn't flashy like the other trouble I'd encountered, but I recognized that it had the potential to be a serious pain in the butt. And yeah, maybe dangerous enough for me to fear for my life.

  A few feet away from me, my best friend Melanie sat in the haunted rocking chair near the door of my shop. She looked up with interest. "What problem?"

  "Either my phone has suddenly become possessed, or something in here wants to kill me."

  "I thought something was always trying to kill you," she offered helpfully. "Or at least curse you in a nasty way."

  "Well, sure, but this is different. This sounds sort of personal."

  Melanie scrunched up her nose. When she did that, she looked very much like the monkey shapeshifter that she was. "What do you mean?"

  I motioned at the shelves of the shop. They were packed with all sorts of junk that people had pawned or sold to me in moments of desperation. Since Moonlight Pawn was located right next to Fremont Street in downtown Las Vegas, many of my customers were curious tourists and gamblers looking to replenish their bankrolls.

  However since I was a dragon sorceress on the downlow, my shop attracted members of the magickal community as well. That meant there were some pretty strange items on the shelves, some fantastic, some that were more than a little bit creepy.

  "Most of the magickal items in here are cursed in passive ways," I pointed out. "Nothing happens until you interact with them in some way, like when you pick it up or open its drawer or try to use it." I held up my phone. "The feeling I just got from this message is different. It knows me and it wants me, not any poor sucker who comes along. I'm telling you, Melly—something bad is about to go down."

  Her dark eyes widened and the ends of her blue dyed fringe nearly poked into them. "Like what?"

  "I wish I knew." I eyed the inventory in the shop. "I've had most of this junk for a long time and nothing's happened. Now, though, I'm wondering if I should mistrust all of it."

  Moonlight Pawn was situated in a house that had been converted for retail. My studio where I slept, showered, and ate was separated from the shop floor by a simple bead curtain. The nearness was convenient, but there wasn't much defense against anything, really. I couldn't even stop a breeze.

  Bothered, I emptied the old hat box I was holding of its last item: a shallow bowl with a glass lid. The bowl held a couple of inches of sand. I lifted the lid and lightly ran my fingers across the sand. Immediately the sand shifted to form letters that made a word: ASK. Cooler than a magic 8-ball any day, but I couldn't help wondering if this was the source of the threat I'd just heard.

  "You think it's that?" Melanie asked, reading my thoughts.

  I shrugged. "This and five other things were left on the sidewalk this evening. I hadn't sensed anything malicious from any of them, but maybe I was wrong."

  "That's kind of suspicious, isn't it? Someone just leaving that stuff for you?"

  "Not really. Magickal beings dump stuff here more often than you know. They don't care about making money; they just want it away from them." I placed the glass lid back on the bowl of sand. "Maybe a demon is on the other side of this, talking back."

  Definitely possible. It was also possible that the other five items—a mug, a pair of gloves, a scarf, and a teapot—carried nasty curses. I considered removing them from the shelves where I'd already placed them, but I hadn't sensed evil from them. It kind of irked me to trash them without justification.

  Just in case, I went out onto the shop floor and collected all six items and placed them together on one shelf so I could keep an eye on them and possibly narrow down any nasty business to that area.

  I nearly added the hat box to the trash pile since it was so battered, but at the last second I decided to keep it for storing shoes or something. The majority of my stuff was in Tupperware containers, which weren't exactly stylish. I tossed the box into my studio.

  "When I was little, my dad told me a story about our ancestors and curses," Melanie said as I returned to the counter. She rocked once on the rocking horse. "Monkey shifters are descended from the Mayan people, right? But how? My ancestors weren't sleeping with monkeys or anything."

  "I had wondered about that," I said straight-faced. I grinned when she stuck her tongue out at me.

  "My dad told me that a long, long, long, looong time ago on the first day of the Mayan solar calendar, a ceremony was held called Night of Jinxes. Like, the Mayan gods all stood in a circle around a cenote and threw jinxes at each other, trying to knock each other into the water. This went on for fifty-two hours on the longest night in Mayan history. One by one the gods fell into the water: the jaguar god, the feathered snake god, the rain god and mountain god...until at last there were only two gods standing: a howler monkey god and one of the gods of maize."

  I nodded, wondering what the heck this had to do with my angry crank caller.

  "The two gods threw jinx after jinx at each other. All different sorts, trying to find each other's weaknesses. People saw jinxes they didn't know were possible! And yet it seemed that neither god would win. Then suddenly the howler monkey god collapsed.

  "'No way, he lost!' everyone cried.

  "The god of maize celebrated. He was the greatest god of jinxes! He turned to tell the Mayan people to worship him and that's when the howler monkey god sat up and threw a banana at the maize god's head, knocking him into the cenote." Melanie giggled. "The Mayan people were so impressed by the trickery of the howler monkey god that eight of them begged to be made into the image of a monkey to honor him. And that's how monkey shifters were born!"

  "Melly, that's really cool. I think you've got plenty of your howler monkey god attributes," I teased. "But what in the world does that have to do with anything that's happening here?"

  "Duh, we need to hold a Night of Jinxes and try to trigger all the curses that are in here until we find the one we want!"

  My eyes bulged. "What?! That sounds like a terrible idea. That'd be like—like a magickal Armageddon."
>
  "Nah, you said it yourself: there's nothing aggressive in here. Except for one curse. Your curse. When it can't help itself and jumps on the bandwagon and reveals itself, we isolate it and pounce on it."

  "Or, it kills me."

  She winced. "Well, maybe, but I really doubt it, Anne. Seriously."

  "As long as you doubt it then why should I fear?" I shook my head. "Triggering everything in here would be the last thing I'd do, Melly. Who knows what would happen."

  She looked around, her attention pausing on various items before moving on. "I don't know. The most dangerous things you've got in here that I know about are the zombie nutcrackers. And they can only bite your fingers if you stick them in their mouths."

  "You're wrong. The most dangerous thing in here—one of them that I know about, anyway— is this music box." I turned and pointed at the small, black lacquered box sitting on the shelf behind me. "It opens to somewhere in deep space. Literally. I've opened it twice to peek inside and both times I was nearly sucked into the thing and pulled into orbit around a planet."

  "That's kinda cool," Melanie murmured to herself, completely missing my point. I'd forgotten that she admired some of the cursed things in here and felt that she could have created better ones if given the chance.

  "I should get rid of this box," I mumbled. "It's too dangerous to sell."

  "Uh, I don't think you can just toss it in the trash, Anne. You gotta have someone magickally destroy it."

  She was right, which was annoying. The music box was both valuable and dangerous. I'd only gotten hold of it by an awful twist of fate: a witch had called the shop, informing me she would be bringing the box in. But either accidentally or due to cosmic forces, she had been hit by a car in the street just outside the shop. The box had rolled to the front door of Moonlight Pawn and though I'd tried to find relatives of the witch, no one had ever come calling. If that wasn't a sign that I was supposed to take the music box I didn't know what was.

  Anyway, the music box from space was dangerous but it wasn't what had sent me the angry phone message, otherwise it would have done so months ago when I'd first obtained it.

  "The music box isn't my problem," I said. "But I don't know if provoking everything that's in here will determine which one is." However, my subconscious had grabbed hold, and now an idea began to form. "Unless we record things from a safe distance...with a camera."

  "It'll be like found footage horror." Melanie's jaw fell open. "It sounds super scary. Do you think maybe we should call the guys for this?"

  I gave her a look. "You're telling me you need a big, strong guy because you're a scared, helpless little female?"

  She thought about it before squeaking, "Maybe!"

  "Tsk, tsk, Melanie. We're doing this on our own. It was your idea, so now you have to live with the consequences. Just like when you dyed your hair blue."

  "But blue hair isn't scary!"

  "Try telling that to your mom. You remember how she flipped out when she saw your bangs."

  Melanie slumped. "Yeah. Dios mio..."

  "This won't be nearly as bad as that." I wasn't sure how this had suddenly turned into my project, but I was pushing it to happen. "In the morning after I close up, we'll set up a camera and set off some curses. Who knows what we'll find."

  Famous last words.

  ~~~~~

  Four a.m. on Thursday morning and it was time to close. Oh, there would be more business if I kept the neon Open sign lit—Vegas never slept—but I always had to draw the line at some point and say enough was enough.

  Tonight had been particularly busy. Bad night on the tables for lots of people, apparently. I'd had a steady stream of gamblers in, selling me all sorts of things. A handful of tourists had skimmed the items and made a few purchases, and I was pretty sure the guy who'd purchased a pair of magicked golf balls that would return to you when you whistled had been a minor warlock. So, pretty good, sales-wise. But I had other things on my mind than money.

  My eyes tracked the last customer in the shop, an elderly woman wearing an unflattering pair of mom jeans and a red CSI: Las Vegas T-shirt. The clothes meant I'd initially painted her as a tourist, but as she lingered in the wannabe witch's section, I reconsidered and decided to pay her a visit.

  "So many interesting items," she said with a wobbly smile when I joined her beside the shelves.

  "I try to keep a good variety in stock," I said. "Is there anything in particular you're looking for? I have some items in storage as well."

  "No, no, nothing specific. Thank you. I only came in here because..." She trailed off, her brow creasing as though she were confused. Her expression was enough to worry me.

  "Are you alright?"

  "Yes, I'm..." The woman touched the tips of her fingers to her forehead. I didn't think she was feeling faint; I thought she was using some kind of magick. "There's something in here. It drew me in."

  That raised my hackles because surely this wasn't a coincidence. "Can you describe what you felt?"

  She opened her wrinkled lips, then paused and cast a wary look at me. "Do you mind...you're not ordinary, are you?"

  I smiled slightly. We were alone and the risk of being overheard was minimal. "I'm not. I'm a sorceress."

  "Ah, I'd thought as much. My magickal ability lies along yours, I think, though my specialty is in sensing power, nothing more. I can't actually perform any magick, but I can tell you when someone else is using it."

  "So you can sense it in here. Something's active."

  "Active." She rolled the word in her mouth for a moment. "I suppose that's as accurate a word as any. Yes, something is active in here. But hidden," she added with a warning look. "It doesn't normally like to be found."

  That was vague enough to be annoying, but I understood that this woman could be helpful. "Is there any chance you can pinpoint what it is for me? It's a little concerning to have something active on the shelves for anyone to buy."

  "Possibly." The woman began to move, so I stepped back to give her room. With the fingers of one hand lightly touching the center of her forehead, she drifted along the aisle. Every time I expected her to stop on an item that I felt was suspect, she continued on, proving that I really had no idea what was potentially dangerous in my shop.

  She eventually paused in front of the shelf holding the six items that had been left on the sidewalk. Her gaze lingered on the coffee mug and a pair of gloves. A-ha! I thought.

  The mug was nothing special. It kept liquids warm for a few hours. I expected it to sell soon. The gloves were of a similar vein. You put them on and they heated your skin pleasantly all the way up to your shoulders. Handy if you went around in hipster vests during the winter.

  "Once upon a time," I heard the woman murmur as she studied the items, but she didn't pick up either of them. After a few seconds, she continued inspecting the rest of my inventory.

  To my frustration, she paused only once again, midway between the main selling floor and the counter. She glanced at the bead curtains.

  "Lots of curses back there," I told her, "but they're old and attached to the building."

  She nodded. "That explains it." She lowered her hand from her forehead. "I apologize. I can't narrow down the feeling. It seems to touch several items here, but nothing is as strong as what I felt out on the sidewalk."

  A cumulative effect? Could be, but that didn't much help me find the main culprit.

  "I think I'll go now." The woman sounded uncomfortable, but she paused just before the door and looked back at me. "If you're here all alone...you should be careful."

  A chilly finger ran up my spine. "You think whatever you felt is dangerous?"

  She didn't pull any punches. "Yes. So don't, well, don't lower your guard. I'm sorry I'm not more help."

  "No, you have been. Thank you. Have a good night."

  After the woman left, I locked the door, counted up the till and tidied up. The cursed cameo pieces yammered at me for a little while but I ignored them and the b
itchy Victorian faces eventually fell silent. I pulled up a book and kicked back behind the counter as sunrise began to lighten the eastern skies.

  I didn't end up reading much, though. My attention kept drifting beyond the cover of the book to my shop where apparently something nasty lurked. Running a cursed pawn shop wouldn't have been my first career choice, but I thought I did a fairly decent job of it. Under my control, the inventory had nearly doubled.

  Though, maybe that wasn't such a good thing after all. If all those items were cursed or haunted, were they really beneficial to sales? I made sure that non-magickals didn't get their hands on anything dangerous, but they were usually repelled by them anyway. I guess they could tell subconsciously when something was magickal and they steered clear of it. And the cursed items that I had sold had gone to magickal beings that I sensed could handle them. We just had a way of knowing when the magick on something was within our realm of control.

  That would probably explain why the worst offenders remained on the shelves. Maybe they'd still be sitting there long after I left this place. After all, who really needed a taxidermic snowy owl that followed you everywhere you went with its golden eyes? You could just tell the thing wanted to peck at your face. Or what about the photographs of little girls with eyes that bled? Something had to be really wrong with you to enjoy having one of those photos hanging on the wall of your home.

  And there were worst things in here. Things I'd rather not dwell on while I was alone, and according to the woman who'd just been here, items I'd better not turn my back on. Nothing had yet hurt me, but hey, there was a first time for everything, right? Just because I was a dragon sorceress didn't mean I was invulnerable. Far from it. If I used too much of my sorcery I risked losing my humanity and turning into a fire breathing dragon. Big no-no, as far as the magickal big bosses were concerned.

  I blew out a breath. I couldn't wait until my best friend arrived. All at once I was feeling very, very vulnerable.