Cold Hard Magic (6 page)

The scythe rose.

Rob held out his hands in front of him, willing the insane man to stop. "Mr. Rumhilde, you're right. I see it now," Rob stammered. "This has to be done. I'll help you," Rob ignored Nancy's gagged cry. "In fact, I'm sure if we call the Sheriff, he'll understand and bring everyone to help you."

Rumhilde paused and looked at Rob. "I ain't stupid, boy. You just stay there while I kill her and you'll be free soon enough."

The scythe started to come down.

Rob moved with the speed and alacrity he had always lacked when it came to high school sports. Ducking his head and leading with his shoulder, he smacked into Rumhilde's chest with a loud thud. Air whooshed out of the old man's lungs in the form of a low, throaty groan.

Rob felt something give. Whether it was his shoulder from meeting the surprisingly hard chest of a man twice his age or Rumhilde's ribs. He didn't know, but he also didn’t stop. Just kept going until they slammed into one of the posts.

Rob closed his eyes and ignored the pain screaming throughout his body, but he held on tight to Rumhilde. Waiting for those boulder sized fists to start hitting him any minute, his body tensed. Time slowed, extending his wait for that first shot of new pain.

He waited.

And waited.

Rob felt the lightest of touches on his head and flinched, expecting the hit, but it never materialized. He opened his eyes, mesmerized by Rumhilde's dangling arm. He looked up at the man who had been so willing to kill Nancy, but all he saw was the look of surprise, frozen on Rumhilde's face. That and lifeless eyes now staring blankly into nothing in this world.

He closed his eyes, shoulders dropping while sadness overwhelmed him. He'd saved Nancy and that was important, but he never wanted to kill Rumhilde. That was just bad karma. Rob opened his eyes and pushed off the dead former farmer-murderer.

"Karma, Mr. Rumhilde," Rob said shaking his head. Karma ensures balance. Mr. Rumhilde had taken the life of his wife and now he paid with his own. He patted the dead man's shoulder awkwardly, then curiosity got the better of him and he leaned around the body and confirmed his suspicion.

Rumhilde's head had met the imbedded axe on the post and cracked like a hardboiled egg. Except this egg was runny. With brain matter.

Rob cringed. Good thing he wasn’t that fond of hardboiled eggs. A strangled cry caused him to jump back, then he remembered the Nancy. He rushed to her.

"It's alright," he said, gripping her bound hands. "I'm going to get you out of here. He can't hurt you anymore." His eyes darted back to Rumhilde.

Still dead, but now at a distance he looked like a macabre marionette. Good think he didn’t like creepy puppets.

A soft mewl escaped Nancy's throat and brought him back to the task.

"Sorry," he said, pulling her gag down.

"I thought he was going to kill me," she sobbed. "He killed Ethel. He—"

"Can't hurt you now," Rob finished. He released the knot and pulled her up, holding her tightly.

"I just came to tell him how sorry I was about Ethel," she hiccupped.

Rob sat on the Rumhilde's porch holding the ice pack to his face and watching as the paramedics checked Nancy. She looked up and gave him a lopsided smile. He nodded with his own weak smile that felt more like a painful grimace than anything else.

"I would have never pegged you for a knight in shining armor hero type," Walt said while eyeing Nancy appreciatively.

"Walt," Rob acknowledged.

It hadn't taken long for the quiet, secluded farm house to become teeming with life once he called the Sheriff. There was no doubt that there would be more people soon if the half heard conversations were any indication.

"Deputy Walt," Brennan corrected. "She's mighty cute," he nodded at Nancy, "if you clean up the blood and ignore the bruises." He looked at Rob. "That old man did a mighty number on you, too."

Rob ignored the insult and carefully shrugged. "Did you have any other questions?"

"Nah," Walt shook his head, "Sheriff says it’s a clear case of self-defense against the old coot." He ignored Rob's dark look. "Did you see his living room?"

Rob started to shake his head but stopped as the pain exploded across his face.

"Yeah, well," Walt continued, "the old fucker was completely insane. Had all these notes and drawing about witches and alien body snatchers." He shook his head. "No doubt he offed his wife. He took notes about that. I think he even saved some body parts."

Walt snorted. "Aliens and witches. Only someone completely insane would be stupid enough to believe in that shit."

"Walt," a low gravelly voice chimed in from the darkness. "You go get Rob's truck." Sheriff Sam Turner walked into sight. "It's that a way, right Rob?" He pointed vaguely behind himself.

"Yes, sir," Rob answered.

"Then get to it, boy," Turner said to Walt. "What you waiting for? A formal invitation?'

Walt glared at Rob, then ducked his head and hurried away before Turner could scold him any further. Turner turned to Rob.

"You all right, son?" He asked, his eyes studying Rob closely. Rob nodded. "Well, you have nothing to worry about. Poor Rumhilde totally lost contact with reality."

A car screeched to a stop, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and watch the older blonde woman jump out and run towards Nancy.

"That must be the mom," Turner said without really asking.

Rob nodded. "Professor Wallenstein."

"I guess I'll go check on your girl, then," Turner said. He was moving towards Nancy when he turned back to Rob. "You did real good, son. Real good." He tipped his hat at Rob and walked away.

Rob smiled. A real one this time. Suddenly all the aches and pains were dulled and he was rather proud of himself. True, he hadn't wanted to hurt Rumhilde, but the universe worked in mysterious ways that always seemed to balance out.

Air whooshed out of his lungs as steel like arms gripped him tightly.

"Thank you," Professor Wallenstein cried before smattering kisses in his bruised swollen face. "Thank you for saving my daughter. I don’t know…" she chocked down a sob.

Rob wheezed painfully but managed to lightly pat the distraught woman on her back.

"You saved my baby," she sniffed wetly. "I can't thank you enough."

"I—"

"We had no idea Gustav was the murderer," she continued. "None of the signs pointed to him. He was so quiet. So polite and seemed like such a gentle giant of a man."

"Well—"

"To think you were our primary suspect," she said with a watery chuckle.

Rob looked up surprised.

"When you barged into our house with that bizarre story about the glowing deer…" She shook her head. "We were sure you were targeting our coven. That's why Nancy was spying on you."

Rob froze.

"She read up on you and your web sites, watched some of your shows…"

Rob stopped listening at that point. His eyes drifted to Nancy, still on the gurney. She sent him a small wave but his universe was slowly collapsing on itself. The connection they'd shared had been fabricated because their coven had thought he was a murderer. It had all been a lie.

He looked away.

"I can't thank you enough," Professor Wallenstein said, her voice trailing off as she looked at Rob.

"No problem," he said in a flat tone.

"Well," she offered in a hesitant tone as she stared at him quizzically, "if you want some help with that glowing doe of yours—"

"I don't think that matters anymore," Rob replied getting up from the porch. He gave Wallenstein a cursory nod before walking towards Walt who was pulling up in his truck.

"I can't believe this ol' gal is still running, Bob," Walt said with a smirk after climbing out of the truck. "Are you using some of that mumbo jumbo magic of yours?"

Rob ignored him and raised his hand in a silent demand for the keys.

"Well, I don't know about that, Bo—" Walt met Rob's cold gaze. "Rob. I don’t think the Sheriff is quite done, here." He dropped the keys in Rob's hand.

"You know where I live," Rob replied. He walked around Walt and opened the door.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Walt said. "You've had a trauma—"

Rob slammed the door shut and ignored Walt. He stared at the steering wheel for what felt like a lifetime, then he put the key in the ignition, the truck in gear and pulled out of the long dirty driveway heading home.

Rob packed the last of the orders, finishing up by placing the shipping labels on the packages before putting them out for the daily pickup. He looked at the pile of boxes. It was a good day. There been a lot of those in the last three months.

“Nothing like some press coverage to boost sales," he said, shaking his head.

Cold Hard Facts had definitely received a boost from the Rumhilde incident, especially when it turned out that the 'Gentle Giant Famer' had turned out to be a serial killer. Ten bodies and they were still counting. All in the span of two short months.

It turned out that Gustav Rumhilde had slowly but surely descended into madness. Killing his wife had been the catalyst and after that he went about 'saving the world' by killing those he deemed aliens masquerading as magic users. The police in three states were still trying to figure out how he'd gotten away with it for so long.

Rob's name being attached as the 'Hero of Boydon' had given Cold Hard Facts, the website and the show, an incredible boost. Several local affiliates from throughout the state had actually paid for the rights to rebroadcast some of the old shows and the station was now hounding him to make new ones.

A shrill beat jarred his attention back to the present.

"This is Rob."

"Hey, Rob, it's Larry."

Rob smiled. "What can I do for you, Larry?"

"Funny you should ask," Larry said. "I'm headed up to the university this week and I even found that darn camera the kids keep losing. Do you still want me to take pictures of that corrosive bird poop for you?"

Rob paused. "Well, I'm not sure if there's going to be another show, Larry."

"Oh," Larry said. "That's really too bad 'cuz we all miss your show, Rob. But I understand, you now being famous and all."

Rob snorted lightly. He didn’t have the heart for it anymore and he knew it. He would have closed the website if it weren't for the boost that his distributors were getting from all the new sales. And he hated disappointing his friends.

"You know what, Larry? Why don't you take the pictures then you can show me when you get back? Maybe that will be the inspiration I need. How does that sound to you?"

"That sounds great, Rob. I'll take the best dang pictures you've ever seen."

"I know you will, Larry."

"Later, gator. Larry out."

"Bye," Rob said, snapping his phone shut and heading for the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and eyed the bright green soda can. He wasn't much in the mood for soda but maybe the sugar would help him figure something out. Larry deserved that much.

A sharp knock on the door had him kicking the fridge door closed after he grabbed the soda. He wondered if he forgot a label again. He opened the door expecting Mildred, who had been his go-to mailperson for over five years, to scold him in her stern motherly fashion.

Instead, he was floored by the person standing in his doorway.

“Hey, Rob,” Nancy said with a small wave and an unsure smile.

The sight of her brought back a rush of different feelings. She looked great. Cute as a button, in fact. There was no sign of the bruising or the trauma she had gone through in that old red barn. She had a different glow about her. It must be that California air.

“How are you doing, Nancy?"

“Good, good.” She fidgeted, waiting for him to invite her in.

He nodded and leaned on the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. “Visiting from L.A. then?” he asked.

She bit off a sigh and bit down hard on her lip. “Yeah," she finally said.

They stood looking at each other and wondering what to say.

"Heard things were starting to work out for you there," Rob said.

"You heard that? You asked mom?" Her eyes lit up, hopeful.

Rob shook his head. "Grapevine. You are still big news at the Early Morning Diner."

"Oh," she said, her eyes dropped down. "Yeah, things were actually okay in L.A."

The silence between them grew heavy and uncomfortable.

"Say," she said, "did that annoying deputy actually knock up a waitress?"