The max porter box set, p.52
The Max Porter Box Set, page 52
Max whirled away, plopped onto the couch with his arms crossed, and scowled. “Fine, then. Don’t cast a spell to find the brick.”
“Now you’re just saying that because I made my point.”
Slapping his arms at his sides, Max uttered a frustrated cry. “Unbelievable. No matter what I say, you’ll make it wrong.”
“Because in all of this time, over the last few years that this fight keeps coming back up, you’ve yet to be one hundred percent honest with me.” She placed herself at the other end of the couch. In a softer voice, she said, “Please, hon. Talk with me.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth. You’re not mad at me for learning about witches or witchcraft. You’re not mad at me for casting spells. Is it that I see all ghosts, that I knew about this world my whole life? Do you think I brought all of this chaos onto us?”
Max turned towards her. “No, honey, not at all. I don’t blame you for anything. And I don’t regret moving down here and learning about ghosts and everything. Strangely enough, our lives have become better for it.”
“Then what?”
“I have never doubted you. Know that deep in your heart. I am by your side. Always. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have fears. And it’s not that I think you’ll be seduced by the power of witchcraft and turned into a version of Mother Hope or Grandma Mobley. That’s not it at all.”
But Sandra pulled away. “You’ve said all of this before. Nothing’s changing, and I’m telling you we can’t keep on like this. It’ll ruin everything.”
Max put out his hand. “Stop guessing what I’m going to say and please listen. You don’t want our marriage ruined — well, neither do I. I’m trying to tell you what’s going on.”
Though she did not shift towards him, he could see the change in her demeanor. The fire had dimmed. “I’m listening,” she said, and he believed it.
With his mouth dry and his nerves jangling hard, he inhaled sharply. “When we were in college, shortly before I met you, I had a friend — Ted. Good guy, smart, a real math whiz. If things had gone different, he probably would have some lucrative job in Silicon Valley. But, the last I heard of him, he was a heroin addict, shooting up in alleyways and wasting away. I’ve seen addictive behavior and what I see in a lot of witches is the same thing.”
“But I’m not —”
“Let me speak, please. I know you’re not like that. I’ve known you a long time. You’ve never fallen into ruts of behavior. You don’t have an addictive personality. But just because you’re not a drug addict, doesn’t mean you should be hanging out with drug addicts. Plus, the fact that you can handle a low level of witchcraft with such ease means you’re likely to think you can handle the heavier stuff as well, and there’s no proof of that. You’ve already done some serious spells that I wish you never had to do. We’ve been lucky with that, but why keep rolling the dice when you’re ahead?”
Max grabbed the top of his head and closed his eyes. None of this had come out right. And he could feel the pressure in the room rising. If he didn’t get through to her, if he didn’t mine out the truth from himself, she would end up right about it all. Their marriage would be in trouble. Not at first. Maybe not for years. But this fear in him had already burrowed into the foundation of their marriage — their trust. It was a monster in larval form, growing stronger while eating away at the pillars of their union. If left unchecked, eventually it would take over, their marriage would end, and Max would be left wondering what had happened.
“I’d be helpless to stop it.”
“Stop what?” Sandra said.
Max reached out for her shoulder but held back. “All of it. Everything. We’ve always solved our problems — not just ones between us, but cases and dangers and everything — we’ve always succeeded by barreling through. We’re like surfers staying right on the edge of the wave. Even before North Carolina, before Drummond and all of it, that’s the way we lived. That’s the way we manage to have some control over our lives. We get in front of a situation, head it off, redirect it to suit our goals or needs or wants.
“But this is different. You want to go down a rabbit hole where I can’t follow you. If you end up in trouble, I won’t be able to help. Not on my own. I mean look at this coven. If that were you, if you ended up with your soul spread throughout the clay of the entire state, I wouldn’t have the power to fix that. Either I’d have to let you suffer or I’d be forced to go to a witch like Mother Hope. And you know that a witch is going to make me pay dearly to get her help.
“It’s not even that, though. Forget that example.” He scratched his head. “It’s more basic. I’m, well, I guess I’m helpless here. I can’t force you to stop and I can’t do anything to barrel through. All I’m left with is to stand at the side and watch.” Tears dribbled down his cheeks. “Do you get what I’m saying? If things go badly, if you succumb to the dark evilness that it seems most witches fall prey to, I’ll be helpless to do anything but watch the woman I love disappear before my eyes. That’s not right. It’s not fair. And that’s what this is all about.”
There. He had done it. The truth. He bent his head towards his knees as a sob heaved from his chest. He couldn’t hold it back as he kept picturing Sandra wasting away like Grandma Mobley. He could feel her eyes upon him, and he wanted nothing more than to escape the office and her response.
Sandra placed her hand on his back. He shuddered as he held in another sob. “Now, I understand,” she said.
A minute passed before he straightened. He grabbed a tissue, blew his nose, and regained his composure.
She kissed his cheek. “No matter what happens to me, you have something nobody else does — my heart. That’s not just sweet words. My undying love is for you, and that means that should your fears come true, and I somehow fall into the world of dark magic, you are connected to me through our love. Nobody else will be able to reach me. You will be my lifeline, my rope back to sanity. You’re not helpless at all. You’re the strongest force to saving me.”
Red-eyed and sniffling, he said, “Which means that, despite all I have to say, you’re still going ahead with it all, with witchcraft.”
“You keep missing the point. You have my heart, and I have yours. You fear witchcraft and its power, and that’s good. We both should fear it. But you have to do something far more important than fear. You have to trust me. Me. Your wife. Your love. Trust me. Trust that I know my strengths and weaknesses. Trust that I understand how far I can go with something. Trust that I love you so much, I will never put that in jeopardy, because more than any power witchcraft could bring me, I want to always come home to your love.”
The office phone rang startling both Max and Sandra. They smiled as Sandra answered the phone.
“Hello, Porter Agency,” she said, and Max could tell by her expression that his mother had called. “No, he’s not here. What? You were supposed to ... fine, fine. We’re on it.” She hung up and faced Max. “Your mother and PB had a bit of a shouting match over his going back to school tomorrow. He stormed out. That was five hours ago and he hasn’t returned or called or anything.”
Chapter 21
LIKE MANY FAMILY EMERGENCIES that occur all over the world, this one mixed heart-pounding worry with sense-dulling boredom. Max and Sandra raced over to Mrs. Porter’s apartment, their fears for PB pulsing through their veins like a thrash metal band in full rage. Before they had left, Drummond volunteered to scour the city streets for the boy but that did nothing to calm their frayed nerves. Once they reached the apartment, once they saw that Jammer J had stayed back and was safe, once they heard the story from Mrs. Porter, they had little else to do but sit and wait.
The police would not be of any help. Too early to call in a missing person, for one. But also, Max did not want to risk sending PB into Social Services. No risk about it — if they found out that PB’s unofficial guardians drove him to run away, it would be over for the Porters. PB would be taken away and Social Services would probably take J, too.
“We should go out and look for him,” Mrs. Porter said. “Why aren’t we doing anything?”
Sitting with her on a couch, Max held her by the shoulder. “I’ve got my best man on the job. If he can’t find PB, then PB’s left the city.”
An hour later, as night descended on them, Drummond arrived. “I found him.”
Max did not look up. His mother had seen him talk with Drummond before, but it only convinced her that her son had a possible mental illness. Lifting a hand behind Mrs. Porter, Max gave Drummond a thumbs-up.
“Honey,” Sandra said with forced lightness. “You should go check on your man. I’m sure we could all use an update.”
“Sure. I’ll be back soon.”
Drummond waited to appear again until Max had entered the elevator. “The kid’s okay.”
Max wanted to hug the ghost for starting right off with the most important news. He texted Sandra, told her that PB was fine, but asked that she not tell his mother — not until he had a chance to talk with PB. Sandra reluctantly agreed to do as he wished, finishing her text with three words that hit home: I trust you.
“Where is he?” Max asked as he left the building and headed towards his car.
Drummond said, “His old home. I didn’t think to look there at first because, frankly, of all the places that kid could go, why would he return to one of the most miserable of his life?”
“He doesn’t have a loved one to go running to for comfort, and that place is about the only thing he ever could have called his own. He found it. He defended it. He survived because of it.”
“If you say so. Still seems nutty to me. But he’s there, so who am I to say otherwise? You want me to come along with you?”
“I can handle this. And I need you to do something else.”
“Back on the case?”
“Yeah. I want to find the clay deposit Perklin Bricks used back when they were making replacements for the Black bricks.”
“Does this mean we’re going to be casting a spell?”
“I’m not happy about it, but I don’t see another option — not if we want to save Lena and Grandma Mobley.”
Drummond stopped at Max’s car. “Do we? I mean this coven has been around a long time. Chances are they’ve done some bad things.”
“First, we’re not going to sit by and let these women die — witch or no witch. Second, do you really want to explain to Sandra any of what you just said?”
“Partner, you make excellent points. I’ll go find the clay deposit.”
After Drummond left, Max drove back to the office. He walked to the corner coffee shop. They were cleaning up to close, but they still sold him the last two bagels and two bottles of water. Then he headed a block over to the section of demolished buildings and overgrown lots.
This was the place Max had first known PB — a boy, living on the streets, taking shelter between a makeshift lean-to and the remains of a brick wall. He would visit regularly, always bringing a little food and some water in the mornings. Until one day, when Max offered PB a job.
As Drummond had indicated, Max found PB sitting against the wall where his old home had once been. As he approached PB, he raised the bag of bagels and smiled.
PB took one bagel and a bottle of water. “I figured you’d show up eventually. You’re not too good at letting people do what they want when you don’t agree with them.”
Max frowned. “I don’t know how take that.”
“Not my problem.”
After sweeping aside some rocks and pebbles, Max sat on a flat piece of concrete. He opened his water bottle and swigged back a few gulps. Though he wanted to look directly into PB’s eyes and set the boy straight, he knew he’d get more out of showing patience — especially after noting the tearstains glinting on the boy’s cheeks under the moonlight.
A minute went by without a word. Then PB drank some water and nibbled on his bagel. Rolling a pinch of bagel between his fingers, he said, “I’m sorry about yelling at your mom. I didn’t mean to fight with her.”
“I know. She knows, too.”
“I ain’t changing my mind, though. That school is for other people. Not me. It’s full of rich kids and kids with parents. Even the poor kids got at least one. They look down on me. I can tell. I’m good at reading people, you know that, and I could see how they all thought of me — slow, stupid, ugly.”
“None of that’s true.”
“I didn’t say I believed them. Fuck them. I’m the best thing that school ever saw. They were lucky to have me for a day. I’m just saying all that nasty crap is the way they saw me. You all put me in with a bunch of pricks. I’m being honest here.”
“You never really tried to make it succeed, though. Since we’re being honest.”
“What good would it do? We both know I don’t know what they know.”
“You’re a smart kid.”
“But I ain’t had the books they had. I didn’t get the advance mathematics or whatever they call it. They’re going to ask me questions I can’t answer. It’s like when people talk to somebody with a stutter — they assume the guy’s an idiot just because it takes him longer to get the words out. But everything’s fine inside his head, it only seems like he’s slow.”
Max dug his heel at the dirt beneath him to keep from gazing at PB. “I’m not sure what to say. In case you missed it, I’m new to the parent thing. Not that I’m trying to be your daddy or anything, but you know what the deal is. If we don’t start acting like your parents, your guardians, then the state will take you away.”
“Not if I’m not there.”
“Right. And I guess you’ll be taking Jammer J with you, too. Otherwise, the state will take him.”
“Me and him were fine a long time before you showed up. We can do it again.”
“Except he likes school.”
PB hesitated. “I know.”
Max’s gut told him the time had come. He raised his head, and keeping the rest of his body still, he looked over at PB. “What’s really bothering you? I know school can be intimidating, and I’m sure there are plenty of jerks you have to deal with.”
“You’re right on that.” PB chuckled.
“But I also know that you and J both care a lot for my mother. I find it hard to believe that you were willing to yell at her and run off leaving her frantic with worry all because you didn’t want to go back to school. And, unless I’m completely wrong, I’m pretty sure you like working for me. So this whole idea that you want to leave the Porter Agency, leave my mother, and leave J, that you want to walk away from everything and everyone you care about just to avoid going to school — well, that sounds a bit ridiculous to me. Something else is going on here.”
PB shrugged and took another bite of his bagel.
“I can’t force you to talk with me,” Max said, “but I can promise you this — being honest about how you feel, what you thought, all of it, that’s going to get you a lot further than shutting down. Come on. You’ve already turned away from all of us, so you got nothing to lose. Tell me what’s going on, the full truth, and maybe I can help.”
PB wriggled as his face contorted as if the words fought to exit his body. “I don’t want to leave any of you.”
“Then don’t.”
“But it’s all going to change.”
“Sorry to tell you this, but change is the only constant thing in life. Nothing stays the same forever. Why do you think school is going to change everything? Make it bad?”
PB turned sharply to face Max. “Because I’m going to fail. I can barely understand half the stuff they’re talking about. I’m not smart enough, and they won’t send me down to be with the little kids — they don’t want those squirts to be intimidated by me. So I’m going to fail at everything there, and then either they throw me out or I drop out when I can. Then what? You really going to keep a piece of trash like me hanging around your office? Great. Then I’ll be your little sympathy project. Each morning you can pat me on the head and find jobs for me that don’t require too much thinking, but in the end, I’m going to read it on your face and Sandra’s too — pity. I’m going to fail you both.”
“And your solution is to run off and hide?”
“I don’t have a solution!” PB’s face reddened — not with embarrassment but rather from the effort to hold back his tears. “I came here to think.”
Max wanted to lean over and hug the boy, but he kept still. The two listened to the city traffic and thought. When the answer hit Max, he wanted to both laugh and cringe.
“I’ve got one way to fix your problem.”
PB threw a rock at a crumpled beer can. “I told you I’m not going back to that school.”
“I heard you.”
“J can go if he wants, that’s his business, but I ain’t going.”
“Got it.”
“And if I have to listen to —”
“Do you want to know my solution or not?”
PB paused, and Max worried the boy might run off again. Instead, PB cleaned his dirty hands across his jeans. “Go ahead already.”
“Let’s start with the most important thing — you have to trust me. Trust Sandra, too. We’re not the enemy, and we care about you. Trust us. Trust that we’re not mean, evil, spiteful people. That even if you do something we don’t like, we’ve still got your back. That we’re not going to abandon you or mistreat you or do anything harmful to you. I know we’re not your parents, but we love you like you were our son.”
PB grew redder and his chin trembled.
“If you’re willing to trust us, then I think I know what we can do. You won’t have to go back to that school again. We’ll figure it all out. Together.”
