Night of Jinxes, A Moonlight Dragon Short Story by Tricia Owens Page B
Authors: Tricia Owens
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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,
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,
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