Dancing in Darkness: Witch

  ***

  Reno had left him at the edge of the parking lot, promising to send the moped around the next day after some adjustments. Zac huddled his shoulders down against the cold air, walking back to the apartment building, wondering what adjustments entailed? He’d found the older man pleasanter upon reflection and had been impressed by the interior of Blackwood Tower.

  Every and now and then, he looked around his small flat and grinned to himself. It felt great getting a job, any job. That meant he was no longer under threat of homelessness, there was no more borrowing from friends...he remembered Phillip, somewhat guiltily in the midst of his euphoria.

  Phillip had come through the other day, bringing over a bag of groceries to tide him until he heard back from his latest job offer. Zac had been careful to skirt the name of the employer, afraid of saying too much was sometimes worse than saying too little. Now, that he’d gone through the interview, he felt secure enough to call up his friend and tell him the good news.

  This is one white boy that ain’t going to end up in no dumpster, he thought smugly, at least not now. Reno hadn’t said exactly where Ms. Blackwood was, though he had asked. She was somewhere on assignment, something she could usually handle. That sounded mysterious enough for his mind to run wild with various paranoid notions. What was it next...? A giant alligator in the sewers? Ghosts guarding treasure on Liberty Island? Ghost ships on the Hudson? Say hello to Henry Hudson for me, he thought, listening to the adagio of Tchaikovsky Phillip kept as a ringtone.

  Phillip picked up on the fifth ring, voice hushed, the roar of vehicles in the distance.

  “Hello?”

  “Phil, old buddy, great news. I got the job!”

  A moment’s pause where the rasp of Phillip’s breath was the only sound, then a slow, “that’s great.”

  “You’re happy, right?” Zac asked doubtful, the pause speaking volumes for him.

  “Yes, of course.” Phillip said a touch warmer. “Things have been--” but his sentence was cut short by an incoming call reminder. Checking the number, Zac recognized it from the list Reno had given him. “Oh, hey, I’ll call you back later.” He switched over without waiting for a response. “Um, Quinn here. You called me?”

  “Quinn, get down to the parking lot, I’m coming back for you.”

  “Why? What’s changed?” He grabbed his jacket from the sofa, throwing it over his arm.

  “I was wrong about everything.”