Mimic (A Spear Bearer Short) Read online

Mimic

  A Spear Bearer short story

  Stephen Clary

  Published by Stephen Clary

  eBook Edition

  eBook Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away. Even if you received this eBook for free, you do not have the right to distribute this book. If you did not purchase and/or download this book from an eBook retailer, please do so now to own a legal copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Author’s note:

  The Spear Bearer stories should be read in the following order:

  Spear Bearer Book 1

  Mimic (A Spear Bearer Short)

  Superhuman (A Spear Bearer Short)

  Abomination: Spear Bearer Book 2

  The short stories are meant to be bonus stories for folks that have already read Spear Bearer. If you are reading Mimic before reading Spear Bearer, then you can expect that not everything will be explained since I don’t attempt a recap. On the other hand, Mimic does describe things that happen in Spear Bearer, so if you read them out of order then you’ll run into spoilers.

  If you still think you want to read Mimic first then please do. As long as you don’t expect it to be a stand-alone piece then I think you’ll enjoy it.

  Mimic

  “What is the little girl’s name?” Lizzie asked from the backseat of the car. It had been two years since she’d seen her.

  “Masi,” Lori answered before her mom had a chance. “She’s so cute.”

  “She was a toddler last time you saw her. She’ll be a lot different now,” Lizzie’s mom added. “And the boy’s name is Jay.”

  “Jayesh, I think,” Mr. Long said. “Masi and Jayesh. Indian names I guess?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Long answered. She looked away out the side window. Lizzie looked too. The rolling hills, brown rows of harvested corn covering the fields like corduroy fabric, were giving way to the houses and sheds and swing sets of suburbia.

  “Is he Muslim or Hindu or what?” Mr. Long asked.

  “I don’t know,” Lizzie’s mom answered. She continued to look out the window. “He’s nothing, I think.”

  A couple minutes of silence followed.

  “Are the children being raised Catholic?” Lizzie’s dad asked.

  “Yes, I think so. I know they go to mass from time to time.”

  “Well,” Mr. Long answered, “I guess your family was always somewhat casual Catholics.”

  “It’s not like you can say we are perfect Catholics, can you?” Mrs. Long stopped looking out the window and looked into the backseat at Lori and Lizzie. Changing the subject she said, “They’ve moved. They live in a big house now.”

  “A new house?” Lori asked.

  “No. An old house. In Cedar Rapids...not out in Marion like their old house. It has lots of rooms. You and Lizzie will have a room to yourselves.”

  “What’s that smell?” Lori asked.

  “I don’t know. I think it’s the starch works, or...I don’t know.”

  “It stinks,” Lori said, and she pinched her nose together between her thumb and forefinger.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Mr. Long said.

  Lizzie noticed the smell too, but she was still thinking about the remark her mother had made. In what way were they not perfect Catholics? How could they not be perfect Catholics? Her dad was the Spear Bearer, the owner of the Church’s most holy of artifacts. If he wasn’t the best of Catholics, other than the Pope, then who was?

  “Oh we were so worried when we heard about the kidnapping,” Aunt Verna said once they’d all come into the entry way. She held Lori by the shoulders and looked her over as if she were checking for damage. “And he didn’t uh...hurt you in any way?”

  “No ma’am,” Lori said. “He just locked me in a room and then after a couple days he let me go in the woods behind our house.” That was the lie that the Long’s had practiced and had told repeatedly for a couple months now.

  Looking to her sister, Lizzie and Lori’s mom, Aunt Verna asked, “And they never found the guy?”

  “No,” she answered, shaking her head.

  “So he’s still out there?” Aunt Verna asked rhetorically. “Do you think they’ll ever find him?”

  “I think it’s unlikely,” Mrs. Long answered. And Lizzie knew that that, at least, was the truth. If they ever did find Madison Akers there probably wouldn’t be much left of him.

  Lizzie’s cousin Masi tugged at Lizzie’s hand. “Come on come on. I got to show you your room.”

  Aunt Verna smiled at Lizzie and Lori. “Masi has been so excited for you girls to get here.”

  “Come on,” Masi repeated with another tug of the hand.

  “Okay, little mama, show them to their room,” Aunt Verna said with a laugh.

  Masi clambered up the staircase using her hands and legs and Lori and Lizzie hurried with their suitcases to keep up with her. The little girl’s mass of flowing black curls bounced with every step.

  “Slow down, Masi,” Aunt Verna yelled up at her.

  Lizzie looked back to see Aunt Verna’s face, fair skinned like Lizzie’s mother, mouth frowning but eyes smiling.

  Uncle Mitali, however, did not hold back, smiling wide, his teeth white in his dark face. Beside him stood his son Jay. The little boy’s dark eyes looked up uncertainly; he always seemed to have a trace of worry on his face.

  “This is your room,” Masi said when Lizzie and Lori caught up with her in a room down the hall. On the floor lay a blow up bed. Cardboard boxes were stacked against a wall. Otherwise, the room was empty.

  “My room is right next here,” Masi pointed, “And then Jay Jay is on other side. And down the hall is mommy and daddy.”

  “Thank you Masi,” Lizzie said.

  “Can we play now?” Masi asked.

  “Do you have Barbie dolls?” Lori asked.

  “Uh huh,” Masi said, nodding.

  Lizzie smiled. At least Lori had someone to play with. And Lizzie would play too, because Masi was so cute she just wanted to do anything for her.

  The smell of pies cooking and pizza mingled in the kitchen.

  “Hope you don’t mind frozen pizza,” Aunt Verna said. “With so much cooking...”

  “Don’t be silly, Verna,” Lizzie’s mom said. “With the turkey and dressing and the potatoes and the salads—“

  “Pizza is better than turkey,” Jay said.

  “Pizza better than turkey and dressing?” Uncle Mitali asked, tousling Jay’s jet black straight hair. “That’s crazy.”

  “Jay Jay is crazy,” Masi said, and everyone laughed to hear the little girl say it. She smiled, unsure at why everyone laughed, and then said to Lizzie, “Kracken thinks you’re pretty; he likes your speckles.”

  “Freckles,” Aunt Verna corrected.

  “Kracken said ‘speckles’,” Masi insisted.

  Lizzie felt uncomfortable. She didn’t like everyone looking at her. She wished she didn’t have freckles, at least not the horde that crossed over nose and onto her cheeks coloring her entire face. But she forced a smile and asked, “Who is Kracken?”

  “No one,” Masi answered. “He never was.” She met Lizzie’s gaze and held it with her deep brown serious eyes.

  A chill went down Lizzie’s spine, though she couldn’t say why. Lizzie raised her eyebrows and half smiled at Masi. It was a strange thing to say, but four year olds say weird things.

  “Kracken is Masi’s I-MAG-I-NAR-Y friend,” Jay said. “Now who do you think is crazy?”

  “Jay,” Uncle Mitali said, his voice modulating lower. “Be nice.”

  “The move has been a little hard for Masi I thin
k,” Aunt Verna said while looking at her daughter. “There was a little girl, Lisa, who was Masi’s age. Do you miss Lisa, honey?”

  “Yeah,” Masi answered, and then she took a bite of pizza. “Sure,” she added while chewing.

  No one spoke for a few minutes and when Lizzie looked around, her father lifted his head and caught her eye. He nodded slightly, and then tilted his head and his eyes toward Masi.

  Lizzie stopped chewing her food and looked at Masi. Then she looked back at her father. Did he mean...this imaginary friend...does he think it’s real? That it is a Lost Soul? Or maybe one of the Fallen?

  Mr. Long nodded again.

  Yes, Lizzie realized, starting to chew her food again. That is exactly what he means.

 

  Lizzie already had her pajamas on and had brushed her teeth when her father came into the bedroom. He shut the door behind him. “I don’t know what we have here. Maybe nothing. Maybe a ghost. It’s unlikely to be one of the Fallen.” He opened up his robe and pulled out the Spear. “Mom and I are sleeping in a room downstairs and if there is any activity tonight I suppose it will be up here with you.”

  Lizzie nodded.

  “You had better not let this be like at the Garner Mansion,” Mr. Long said, handing the Spear to Lizzie. “Point the Spear. Say the words. No talking to the ghosts.”

  “Yes’r,” Lizzie answered, a thrill going through her as she took the Spear, her vision overloaded suddenly with light and infinitesimal detail. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Okay,” Mr. Long said, holding her eyes with a meaningful stare. “You’re my Second. I can trust you with this job?”

  “Yes’r,” Lizzie repeated. After an uncomfortable moment she added, “I’ll point the Spear and say the words. No