The Sign of Faust: Baker City Mysteries, #2

By Éric Desmarais

Elizabeth Coderre solves mysteries. Magic, wizards, and killer kittens didn't stop her last semester. Now someone is trying to kill her in absurdly complicated ways, she's hearing voices, her best friends are constantly fighting despite being madly in love, and the desires of Baker City's residents are becoming reality.

Can she find out who's trying to kill her and discover the source of everyone's luck, while navigating dating, concerts, school, and competing in the science Olympics? She can only wish… and you know what they say about wishes!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Renaissance Press
• Release date: Mar 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393459743

Éric Desmarais

Éric has had an eclectic career which ranges from casino dealer to canal boat captain to radio station DJ. Since 2009, he's worked as a desktop publisher for the federal government. During his off time, he works as a freelance typesetter for various Canadian-based authors and publishers, roasts gourmet flavoured coffee, runs several pen-and-paper role-playing games, writes, and helps run JenEric-Designs.ca (Home of the TravellingTARDIS.com).He lives in Ottawa, Ontario with his author wife, daughter, and son. Visit him at www.EricDesmarais.ca.

Book preview

Prologue

In the summer of nineteen sixty-seven, flying fruit and rock music were a staple of the Barrett family’s mornings. The eight family members danced around each other in a controlled chaos born of habit.

Allan, the eldest at twenty-two, dressed in his only good suit, grabbed his briefcase with one hand and a lobbed banana with the other. He was on his way to his job as a parliamentary clerk. His pitch black hair was gelled back like a movie star.

Uniform freshly ironed, Silvia, the second eldest at eighteen, picked up an apple from the fruit bowl. She nimbly dodged her little sister, Stephanie, who was running away from Christopher, her twin. Managing to get out of the kitchen without dirtying her white nurse-in-training uniform, Silvia smiled.

Both Allan and Silvia waved goodbye as they left. Silvia made sure to kiss her father’s forehead. A few moments after they left, a blur ran through the kitchen. Kara, who was seventeen, with her messy brown curls barely contained in a ponytail, ran after her older siblings. She was off to her summer job as a tour guide on the Rideau Canal. The three eldest drove into work together every morning in Allan’s small blue car. Their salaries supported the family.

Five years before, Mr. Barrett had been crushed under a load of bricks. His workers’ compensation would have been enough for a bachelor to live comfortably, but for a man with a mortgage and seven children, it wasn’t. He thankfully could still walk, but couldn’t lift or perform any of the kind of work for which he was qualified.

The house felt quiet without the three oldest children. Mr. Barrett hated this part of the day. He knew that Simon, only fourteen, would be heading to the Market, where he liked to play guitar and raise a little money. Michelle, named after her mother and the only one of his children to inherit her red hair, would take the twins to the daycare down the street and stay to help. She wanted to be a teacher.

After they had all left, he would be alone. He’d clean up slowly, tend to his small vegetable garden until his back hurt too much before sitting and reading for a few hours. Maybe later that day he’d walk down the street to the cemetery and visit his wife’s grave.

As Simon was heading out, his father, for whom he was named, said, Sit down with me a moment, Simon. Simon sat, looking expectantly at his father. There is something you have to always remember, son. Simon smiled. His father always spoke in short, direct sentences punctuated by short silences. No matter what happens in your life, your family is the most important thing you’ll ever have. They are your support, your allies, and the best friends you can ask for. No matter what happens, they will be there for you. Never forget it, son. He took Simon into a gruff, manly hug to hide the fact that his eyes were watering.

I love you too, Dad. Simon returned the hug, picked up the old hard case with his battered six-string guitar and headed out. He was anxious to make it to the Market. He had found a great place to play in front of the Bay on George Street. If he didn’t hurry, he was worried he’d lose it to a mime or other busker.

The trip from his home in Vanier, its own city at the time, to the ByWard Market was the worst part of his day. Simon was small for his age and the local gangs liked to pick on him. The worst was a group who called themselves the Squirrels. They always wore leather jackets, even in thirty-degree weather. Their hair was greasy and slicked back. They always carried knives. In short, they hadn’t realized that the fifties’ greaser era had ended.

The trolley to the Market was empty when he got on. After a few stops, two Squirrels came on with their girlfriends. All four of them were older than Simon; he wasn’t sure but they must have been in eleventh or twelfth grade. He looked away, hoping they wouldn’t notice him. The last time he met one of their gazes, they’d tied his shoes together and thrown them over a telephone wire.

A few other people got onto the trolley. It was well past rush hour. He risked a glance at the Squirrels. They weren’t paying attention to him. His gaze lingered longer than it should have. He had gotten a good look at the girls. One of them took his breath away. She had long, blonde, curly hair framing a soft face with bright, chestnut eyes. Despite the caked-on makeup, when she smiled, Simon felt his heart trying to escape his chest.

She had a form-fitting leather jacket with a short pink skirt. He couldn’t help glancing at her long legs. Simon turned his head away quickly when the group got up to leave. Passing him, one of the boys punched his arm and said, Keep your eyes to yourself, tiny.

They must have been in a hurry, thought Simon. He was so relieved at only being punched that he didn’t realize he had missed his stop. He got off at the next stop, walked the extra distance to the Market, and found that his favourite spot had been taken by three small children playing classical music. Their mother glared at him as he walked by trying to find a place to play his guitar. He finally found a place deeper in the Market and took out his instrument.

In the mornings, he always preferred to play slower rock songs. In the afternoon, he would play every Elvis song he had ever heard. He found that people preferred softer songs in the morning and gave him more money for Elvis in the afternoon.

At lunchtime, Simon had just finished playing Mr. Tambourine Man when he looked at his case. It had a scattering of coins inside of it, maybe a quarter of what he would have made at his favourite spot. He let his fingers pick at the guitar and found his mind wandering back to the beautiful Squirrel he had seen on the trolley.

He sang without thinking about the song; it was second nature to him and his mind was filled with chestnut eyes and long legs.

The golden rivers of her hair flow through my mind,

I’ll drink her beauty till the end of time.

Someday she’ll be mine,

someday she’ll be mine,

someday I’ll have my way and she’ll be mine.

It was the first time he’d ever written a song, let alone improvised one. He looked around to see how people were reacting and found to his shock that everyone who had been rushing around had stopped to listen. He took a deep breath and continued singing, pouring his emotions into the song.

A swell of lust rose in him and he pushed it through his music. Looking at the crowd, he found strangers caressing and loosening their shirts. One woman unbuttoned her blouse. He tried to control what he was feeling and felt the crowd’s emotions flowing through him and through his music. When he had started playing guitar, he had to spend hours practising for even the easiest song but now the music flowed through him. It was easy, like breathing.

By the time he had finished his song, the crowd looked haggard but happy. Every single person put money into his case. He even saw a few ten-dollar bills. He quickly took the money and put it in the lining of the guitar case. He kept a few dollars in the case. He hadn’t counted the money, but he thought there might be almost a hundred dollars. That was more than a week’s pay for his older brother.

Once the adrenaline wore off, he felt tired. He decided to eat his lunch in Major’s Hill Park. The day had warmed up significantly and he wanted some shade. As he ate his sandwich that Silvia had made the night before, he started wondering what had happened. He had never played that well or been able to influence the people listening. He lay in the grass and could feel the music all around him. It felt like he had been living his life in black and white and suddenly he could see everything in technicolour.

Deciding to see if he could do it again, he went back to his morning spot and started playing. He wrote four songs that afternoon, one of which was for his mother who had died giving birth to his twin siblings. Those who heard it cried and wanted to rush home to their own families. The other three were about feeling small, family, and fear of losing his father. When he finished the fourth song, he started shaking from the effort of his music. He decided to try to play the song from that morning one more time. To his surprise, he remembered every note, every syllable, and every emotion. As he played, he fixed errors from the first time and improved the lyrics. He made sure not to flood it with too much emotion.

When he finished the song, he looked up into the chestnut eyes that had inspired him. Her face showed a war of emotion. She looked horrified yet happy. Simon took it as a sign that she had hated his song and he quickly packed up his money and his guitar. He picked up the case and started running away. He ran through alleys, up and down roads, and finally found himself at a trolley stop. He climbed into the trolley, paid, and sat in the back corner, staring miserably out the window. He didn’t realize someone was next to him until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

Turning to look at who was touching him, he saw her. She melted his heart with a smile and asked, Was that song about me? He only nodded. It was beautiful. What’s your name?

S-simon, he stuttered.

Well Simon. I’m Vivian. Vivian Myddfai. Her blonde curls bounced as she spoke. He held out his hand and she shook it. She tentatively leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. His heart beat too fast and he felt a shiver of anticipation. Before he could recover, she leaned in again and kissed him passionately.

His mind swam with a million thoughts and no thoughts at all. The world slipped away from him. When she pulled away, she winked at him, got up, and walked out of the trolley. He sighed deeply and reached for the familiar weight of his guitar that should have been leaning against his leg. It was gone.

Running to the door, he looked out to see Vivian and her friends standing and waving at him. Her boyfriend held his guitar case. When the trolley stopped, he jumped out and ran towards the four; his anger clouded his judgment.

The boyfriend held the case over the side of an overpass. The overpass had a busy street underneath. If the height didn’t destroy the guitar, then an oncoming car would. He stopped running and in a winded voice he pleaded, Stop, please don’t! I’ll give you the money that’s inside the case. Don’t drop it, it was my mom’s.

Vivian looked guilty. Okay, we got him good. Now give him back the guitar. When he didn’t move, she added, That’s enough Robert. Stop it.

When he took a step towards Simon, the boyfriend said, He should have thought about that before he wrote you a love song. You’re my girl, Viv, not his. He dropped the guitar into traffic. He and the other two laughed. Vivian looked angry.

Vivian’s angry words were drowned out by a large crash and bang. There were horns, skidding sounds, and then a few more booms. The three Squirrels ran away. Vivian gave Simon a sympathetic look and ran. He didn’t care, anger flowed through him and he shrieked. It was a perfect heavy metal shriek, only a few years too early.

Simon ran down to the road to see if he could salvage his guitar or at least the money. On the road were several cars twisted and broken. A transport had flattened a small blue car against the wall of the underpass.

The money and pieces of the guitar were strewn everywhere. Something pulled at the back of his mind; he was missing something but what was it? His head snapped back to the small blue car: his brother’s car.

He could hear sirens at a distance as he ran towards the car. He saw Silvia and he wondered why she had a new uniform and why it was red. His shock wore off and he fell to his knees as his sandwich from lunch fought its way out.

Shaking with pain and anger, he screamed. His scream echoed and amplified. Everyone within a two-kilometre radius spontaneously started to cry.

After a few moments, a man in a long dark coat and a feathered hat walked over to Simon. I can change it. I can bring them back. But there will be a cost. Choose quickly, before they’re too dead for me to do anything.

Simon tried to understand the man’s words. His face was all sharp angles, making him look almost alien, like Mr. Spock from Star Trek. When Simon understood, he asked, You can bring them back? I can never lose them again.

The man smiled showing sharp teeth. I promise you Simon, you’ll never lose any of your siblings again. I’ll even throw in Michelle and the twins for free. But I have to warn you that there will be a cost and you won’t like it.

Simon shook his head. I don’t care, he whispered. I don’t care! Just bring them back!

Thrice I warn thee, Simon Barrett. There is a cost and it is dire.

The grief and pain that Simon felt reverberated over him again and he begged, Please! Please, just bring them back.

The man smiled...

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Chapter 1

Two weeks of school had already passed and Elizabeth could almost forget how empty the school felt. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle High School, or ACDH, had originally been built to resemble an old Victorian building. From the outside, it could be mistaken for a small castle or large mansion. Inside it was unmistakable as a high school.

In the sixties, the building had been designed to house two thousand students. In recent years, people were moving away from the older West Baker district towards the busier business district, South Baker. This meant that the school was attended by a meagre thousand students.

For Elizabeth’s first semester of grade nine, the school had been under construction. The construction limited the rooms in which they could have classes and where they could move around. It had made the school feel smaller and more crowded. Now the construction on the main building and the reconstruction of the cafeteria were complete and they had started building the new wing.

The effect was dramatic; halls echoed and the school felt a little eerie. Elizabeth had taken to glancing behind her periodically. She felt the emptiness pressing against her and she had a feeling of impending doom. Once the new students joined the school in September, it would feel crowded again, she reassured herself not for the first time.

There was another school in West Baker, Agatha Christie High, that had been losing students and the school board had decided to merge the two. Since ACDH had been built more recently and would take less remodelling, they decided it would host all the students. They were expecting an enrolment of over four thousand students.

Elizabeth shook herself out of her thoughts and headed for homeroom. She walked quickly, her long, curly, blonde hair bouncing up and down. She wasn’t tall, but being only fifteen Elizabeth hoped she hadn’t finished growing.

Walking into homeroom, Elizabeth heard a familiar, annoying voice. See, I told you it wasn’t an earthquake, it was just Elizabeth. Suzy Sweets’s attitude was in direct opposition to her name. She had long, straight brown hair tied into a high ponytail. Her high-pitched, peppy voice could be heard in any crowd. If ACDH had cheerleaders, it would be a safe bet that Suzy Sweets would be one, not only for her pep, but also for her years in gymnastics. In middle school, Elizabeth had been forced to work with Suzy on a project and had been invited over to the Sweets’s. Suzy’s room had been filled with medals and prizes.

Her mean comments didn’t bother Elizabeth as much as they once did. Certain things are put into perspective after you’ve been chased by an ice dragon and shot by a crazy hag.

See, I told you we weren’t smelling burnt toast, it was just Suzy thinking. Jackie, Elizabeth’s best friend almost from birth, hated the way Suzy treated her. He was tall and lanky; it seemed he grew every day. Two years ago, he was shorter than Elizabeth, now he beat her by more than a head. His comment made a few other students giggle as Elizabeth sat next to him.

Thanks, but you didn’t have to. Elizabeth smiled.

No problem; it’s fun. He shifted a little and Elizabeth noticed he was sitting cross legged on the chair of the desk. She couldn’t understand how he managed to find the most uncomfortable and improbable ways to sit and stand. Every time she asked, he’d only answer that it was comfortable.

Jackie’s full name was Jackson Junior. To avoid being confused with his father, his parents had called him Jackie and the name had stuck. People had tried to tease him about it throughout his life but it never seemed to affect him. Elizabeth couldn’t believe how easily he could deflect any kind of teasing.

Where’s Angela? Jackie asked.

She had to give in some corrections for the paper, Elizabeth answered. Jackie, Elizabeth, and their new friend Angela were all on the student newspaper together.

The bell rang as Angela walked in. Her sense of style was only matched by her grades and both were more than impressive. Angela was always dressed elegantly. Today she was wearing a fuzzy emerald sweater with a long white skirt and high-heeled leather boots. Her charcoal black hair was half up and half down, framing her face perfectly.

As strange as Elizabeth found Jackie’s sitting positions, she found Angela’s habit of always wearing heels twice as strange, not because she wore the heels, but because she never seemed to be uncomfortable or awkward in them.

At weddings, Elizabeth always liked to see the expression on the groom’s face the first time he saw the bride. She took the same enjoyment in watching Jackie every morning when he saw Angela.

Last December the two, in a heated argument, had kissed. Moments later, they had been transformed into a pair of mittens by an evil wizard. A side effect of the transformation was memory loss. Neither of them remembered the kiss and Elizabeth kept hoping it would happen again. She couldn’t understand why they didn’t see that they were mad for each other.

Right behind Angela was Miss Currie, their homeroom and science teacher. It was always a comical sight to see Miss Currie behind Angela. Miss Currie was taller than most of the other teachers and in heels she looked like a giant; a tall, elegant giant. The tips of her medium length brown hair barely brushed Angela’s head.

Miss Currie was Elizabeth’s favourite teacher. She could make anything seem interesting and had saved Elizabeth’s life. Elizabeth knew that most of the class had no idea that their science teacher was considered one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Elizabeth, Angela, and Jackie had all found out at the end of the last semester, around the same time they discovered that magic really existed.

They had learned more outside of school than in all of last semester’s classes. Jackie had discovered his father was a wizard and that he had the potential to become one. His father wanted to train him but his mother forbade it. The argument had caused his parents to separate, but he had told Elizabeth that he was certain his mom would change her mind.

When they first learned about magic and that they knew two wizards, they had assumed that magic was extremely common. It wasn’t, unfortunately, but Baker was a special place that seemed to invite the weird and magical.

Jackie’s dad was a Steward of magic. His job was to find and either train, or strip, young wizards of their power. There were four Stewards appointed to each continent and less than three times that amount of practising wizards.

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Elizabeth wished high school groups were as well labelled in real life as they were on television. There were no colour codes or hairstyles to tell everyone apart. There was Suzy who was popular and mean, but there was also Cassy Laval who was popular and extremely nice. Cassy was class president and always easy to find, with her dark red hair. Neither of them looked that different from any of the other girls. There were almost thirty students in their homeroom. There were three ninth grade homerooms and after a full semester, Elizabeth still didn’t know everyone.

... and don’t forget that we’re having tryouts for the Science Olympics tonight after school, Miss Currie finished once the bell rang. She smiled at Elizabeth, Jackie, and Angela as they filed out of homeroom.

At ACDH, they had five periods of seventy minutes and four classes. Older students could choose their classes and what period they wanted off for lunch, but ninth graders had third period for lunch.

They had had a choice of electives at the end of the last semester. They had a social science and an art elective. Their choices for social sciences were Food and Nutrition, Introduction to Psychology, or Introduction to Business. Angela wanted to take Food and Nutrition. She had spent a good part of the holidays watching the Food Network and testing out her creations on her friends. When she stuck to the recipes, the food was delicious, but she had a penchant for improvising. This had led to what Jackie called the Tuna Pancake Incident. Angela made them a deal; they had to try one of her creations per month, and she’d agree to the three of them taking a different class.Jackie and Elizabeth preferred taking Introduction to Business because of the teacher. Mr. Rawn, who taught Psych, was one of the older teachers at ACDH and he had a reputation for being both grumpy and mean. He’d taught Jackie’s dad and the three of them had heard all kinds of terrible stories. They didn’t like having him as a teacher even once, but they were stuck with him for geography. They weren’t going to have to deal with him twice.

For the arts elective, they had the choice between music, visual arts, or drama. Elizabeth and Angela had spent hours trying to convince Jackie to take art. When he wasn’t reading, he was drawing, and the girls knew he was passionate about it. He refused, saying that art would be boring without them and that he could still take grade ten art without it. They had finally agreed to take drama together.

Their first class after homeroom was geography. As they walked into the class, Mr. Rawn announced in his high-pitched voice that they were going to have a pop quiz. His white hair was almost gone and he kept it short. He had a bulbous nose and beady eyes that seemed to follow Elizabeth around the room.

Elizabeth sighed, not meaning it to be loud, but Mr. Rawn’s head snapped towards her and he said, Miss Coderre, since you’re so excited to take the quiz you can do it up front next to me.

Turning away from the back of the class, where her and her friends preferred to sit, Elizabeth went and sat in the lone student desk next to the teacher’s desk. It was turned around to face the class. Mr. Rawn, she thought, liked embarrassing students. The desks were old and made of wood. They had the seats still attached and only four legs.

Handing out the tests, Mr. Rawn leaned on the desk that Elizabeth normally sat in and said to Jackie, Don’t let me catch you cheating on Miss Hardy’s quiz. It was a ridiculous comment, seeing as Jackie’s grades were just as high as Angela’s.

Pushing off the desk, Mr. Rawn barely avoided falling on his face. It just crumbled under him. Large chucks of