Day Shift

“That would be great,” Manfred said. “What’s bad for me turns out to be bad for Midnight, too. Have a good time on your date.”

She nodded, and Mr. Snuggly appeared to jump into her lap and curl up in a contented golden ball. She scratched behind his ears. He began purring, loud enough for the sound to reach Manfred. For once, Mr. Snuggly sounded like an absolutely normal cat.

Manfred crossed the porch and walked down the flagstone path to the sidewalk. He was glad to leave Fiji’s shop because he was disappointed they hadn’t made a plan. As he crossed Witch Light Road, he admitted to himself that he was also dismayed that Olivia was not acting like Olivia ought to act — tough, callous, decisive. Fiji was behaving in a confusing way, too; they all knew (except the man most concerned) that for years she had carried a huge flaming torch for Bobo Winthrop, who regarded the witch as his best buddy. Yet she was going out with the bouncer, whom Manfred remembered as a very tough guy.

To cap off Manfred’s unsettled feeling, when he stopped at the end of his driveway to open his mailbox, he found a bill from Magdalena Orta Powell. He opened it and winced when he saw the bottom line. He sat down at his computer to work with renewed dedication. If I ever have to go to court over this, he thought, I might as well forget ever buying a new car. Or my own house. He wondered what Magdalena’s house looked like. Perhaps the plumbing was made of gold.

Manfred reminded himself that while his car was humble, it was paid for, that he didn’t need a house, and that adding a room to the lawyer’s house was better than being in jail.

Much better.

17

Joe went farther on his morning run than he’d ever gone. He enjoyed the quiet time for thinking, not that there was exactly a cacophony in Midnight or that Chuy’s conversation was not welcome. But sometimes the solitude of running was just what he needed. This morning, with the sun already blazing on his back, Joe was thinking of their little Peke, Rasta, and of all Rasta’s health problems. The dog was getting older, and Joe knew there would be hard times ahead. He and Chuy had not aged, or at least not that Joe could perceive, in many, many, years.

That didn’t mean they were invulnerable. Just as Joe was thinking of the previous week when Chuy had cut himself with a kitchen knife, Joe looked down, saw a rattlesnake right in front of him, and tried to leap sideways in midstride.

Joe realized three things as he lay by the side of the road. First, the snake had not been a diamondback at all, but a gopher snake. He still would not have wanted to tread on it, but it wouldn’t have injected him with poison. Second, he had landed poorly and his ankle was hurting like a bitch. And third, there was no one coming in any direction.

“Okay,” Joe said out loud. “Okay. First, I have to sit up.” His palms and elbows were scraped and bleeding. That was minor but uncomfortable. Joe rolled onto his knees and pushed up. He glanced around for the snake, but it was gone.

Sometimes Joe saw a rancher or a commuter to Magic Portal on his morning run, but today was not one of those days. He hobbled back into Midnight, struggling not to say any of the words that popped into his head. The pain tempted him to break a promise he and Chuy had made to each other long ago. Joe looked up at the blue sky, at a vulture floating on the thermals far above, his wings spread wide. He took a deep breath, restraining himself. A promise was a promise. He limped on.

The first person to spot him was the boy Diederik, who was standing outside the Rev’s cottage. Diederik came running to Joe’s aid, seeming delighted to have something to do.

“You need help, yes?” the boy said.

“Yes,” Joe said. “I definitely need help.”

He found it was very easy to put his arm around the boy’s offered shoulder. The boy was almost as tall as Joe now.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Diederik, only realizing it was odd that he was the one asking the question as the words left his mouth.

“Very strange,” the boy said. “I feel like there are two people in me.”

Joe didn’t understand, but he didn’t have to, to see the boy’s distress. He said, “I know you miss your father.”

“He hoped to be back by now,” Diederik said, trying to sound matter-of-fact, but failing. “I don’t think he will be back in time.” They were making progress on the sidewalk, and they crossed the road to the shop, Joe gasping with the effort. Diederik was feeling Joe’s weight after a few steps.

“The Rev’s trying hard to take good care of you,” Joe said.

“I miss my father and my mother,” Diederik said breathlessly. “But my father told me to be brave and he would return.”

Joe had no reply to that.

Chuy was reading a magazine at his workstation when Joe and Diederik made their awkward entrance, and his eyes widened as he looked from one to another.

“Mr. Joe saw a snake,” Diederik said simply. “And he fell down.”