Shadow Lands by Lloyd Behm II

Author:Lloyd Behm II [Behm, Lloyd II]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blood Moon Press
Published: 2018-11-25T22:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

Chapter Seventeen

25 April 2018

I ended up having to connect my phone to power to message Gunny. He had a huge info dump for me, which was a bitch until I connected the phone to a laptop via Bluetooth. The biggest part of the dump was ‘Ye Grate Spelle,’ in both 16th and 21st century English. A list of components completed the message.

“You’re kidding me,” I said, looking at the ingredients.

“They said they’re going to push the ingredients through from their side,” Miller said.

“I get that. I meant ammo and what will work on this side when we steal it,” I said.

Miller winced at steal. It’s why I used it.

“But, this is magic,” I said looking at the list of ingredients. “Things that don’t work if you use the wrong phrasing, let alone the wrong fenny snake. It’s worse than cooking. Cooking is one step away from chemistry.”

I’d failed chemistry. Twice. The second time with Mel and three tutors helping me all the way to an F, which was better than the unknown I’d received when I failed the first time. It was why I’d dropped out to join Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children.

Diindiisi was looking over the list.

“I’ve got most of this, except for the wool of bat and howlet’s wing,” she said.

“Could I see that?” Dalma asked. “Eye of newt, toe of frog…why is this familiar?”

“Shakespeare,” I replied.

“Henry said he’d spoken to Shakespeare about the spells in some of his plays. Apparently some of Shakespeare’s formulas were correct,” Diindiisi said.

“So us getting out of here is dependent on the writings of William Shakespeare? I knew English Lit would be the death of me,” Holt moaned, theatrically.

“Eh, I’ve read worse,” Johnson said. “Do we have a source for the missing ingredients, just in case?”

“Wool of bat should be easy,” Padgett replied. “San Marcos has a lot of damn bats; there should be hair from one somewhere, but what the hell is a howlet’s wing?”

“Owl,” I replied. “Diindiisi, why do you have the tongue of a dog?”

“Professional secret,” she replied with a broad smile.

“Your life is going to be so much fun once we get out of here,” Miller said.

I glared at him. He grinned back.

“Is a howlet a specific kind of owl?” Dalma asked.

“No. Unless Shakespeare meant the arm of a dirty, nosy person,” Diindiisi replied.

“Uh…there’s the bone collection in the anthropology department for that. I’m not sure how we’d know someone was nosy from their bones,” Dalma said, a look of consternation on her face.

“Dalma, I was teasing you. It’s an owl’s wing. That might be the sticking point—tracking down an owl’s nest here won’t be easy. Finding a dead owl will be worse.”

“Would taxidermy work?” Hiebert asked.

“It should, why?”

“The tobacco shop on the square has a collection of strange things on the walls. I think one of them is an owl,” he replied.

“We’re also going to need a bloody great cauldron,” Miller said.

“Define ‘bloody great,’” I replied.

“Big enough for ‘bubble, bubble, toil, and trouble,’” Miller replied.

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