Chaos Critter Tails: The Right Haircut
We can't help it - we like animal stories. Anna particularly likes fantasy. Tod took a break from sci-fi animal stories for an urban fantasy with a cat. Plus, Dante obedience title pictures!
Welcome to this edition of Chaos Critter Tails. Today’s story doesn’t feature our regular crew of Chaos Critters. And doesn’t have as much humor. Instead, we have a fun mystery that takes place in a world where your haircut matters.
Next week, we will start posting videos from the last two weeks of dog obedience competitions.
Of note, Dante earned both his Beginner Novice (obedience) title and his AKC Temperament Testing title. He’s following fast in his big brother’s pawprints.
The Right Haircut
"The right haircut makes the difference between success and failure. And sometimes between life and death." That was my barber.
June was a tall redhead out of a Heinlein novel. She got her PhD from the Baylor School of Magic in the Texas Magical Center. Then she did four years postdoc with the US Secret Service before coming to work for us. It wasn't just the hair. You had to have skill, and you had to study. But without the right haircut, you couldn't do any of the magic.
My haircut said I did all of the magic.
People didn't get haircuts for powers they didn't have. It just wasn't done in proper society. Me, I had a regular regulation haircut for a member of the MSA, the Magical Security Agency.
Normally, after having June check my hair, I'd go into the office and do paperwork. But today wasn't a normal day. A small platinum bell, famed for its magical resonance, had vanished overnight from the prestigious Houston Museum of Magical Science and History.
I went down to the first floor and spoke to the teleportation wizard.
You should see their haircuts. I can't begin to describe them, but then June says I have no imagination.
He teleported me to the front of the museum into the magically warded safety zone. I walked up the steps and into the building, where a large black Maine Coon cat came up and pawed at my knee, meowing. I gave him a few scritches behind the ears before finally spotting the director.
The museum director was a small, officious man. Not unpleasant, but way too wrapped up in his museum to be truly enjoyable. I shook hands with him and looked at his short buzz cut, that indicated he didn't use magic.
Professionally, I couldn't help but wonder why.
He filled me in on what happened overnight.
"I locked up the museum late like usual. There were still three people working when I left. There's often someone here overnight or working late, either catching up or immersed in work. The three people are Vera Fendrick—she's an illusionist in restorations. Wynn is a European aristocrat enchanter. He's visiting and doing scholarly research. I haven't been able to find him this morning. Finally, our accountant was working late doing end-of-year accounting. Her name is Geraldine Crest."
I gave the cat a quick, final head rub. "Thank you very much. I think before I see them, I would like to examine the scene of the crime. Could you direct me to the display where the bell was kept?"
The cat followed along in front of us as the Director led me through various doors and corridors until we reached the antiquities section for unknown origin objects.
He explained, "We sealed the area off and made sure nobody else used any magic, so you'd be able to inspect it."
I thanked him and noticed the same big black Maine Coon cat now lounging just inside the area. I gave him more scritches and shooed him out. Then I got to work.
I pulled out a piece of chalk.
I didn't really need it, but everybody expected me to use it.
I made a few marks around the case, stood back, and concentrated. My mind went down weird mathematical pathways. It envisioned strange, otherworldly angles that didn't really exist in our reality. The result was that the entire scene was now overlaid with colored tracks telling me what magic had been around.
I saw the blue of illusion magic and the green of a shapeshifter. I even saw the weird, speckled path of somebody carrying around a lot of enchanted items. None of them came particularly close to the case. The paths just kind of meandered through the room and on, going wherever they were going.
I blinked away the vision and erased the magical marks. Again, they weren't really needed, but people bothered me if I didn't use them. They think magic is all chalk and incantations.
I think people watch too much television.
Turning back to the director, I let him know I'd seen tracks of all three suspects. However, none of them actually went anywhere near the case.
"You have human guards, as well as enchanted wards, I presume?"
The director nodded and puffed up importantly. "Yes. In this case, because we're not sure what all is in this particular section, both doors have a guard, and everything is warded. The floor, the ceilings, the walls. There are no windows."
He looked around as if double-checking. "And every case and every item is enchanted, so we could always tell if it's opened and where the item is."
"And right now security is telling you the bell is nowhere?"
The director let a bit of his personality through his mask of worry and importance. He laughed. "Yes. It doesn't show that the case was opened, and it doesn't show that the bell is anywhere. We've even double-checked manually to make sure it wasn't just simply hidden from us. The bell is gone."
"Okay. I'd like to talk to Vera in her office, if that's okay."
The director indicated it was indeed okay and led me along. As we walked, I noticed the black cat was once again following along. He patted at my ankle. Again, I stopped and gave him scritches.
I can't help it. You should see me when there are big dogs around. My "special government agent" façade disappears.
"Director, does this guy always hang around here? He's really friendly."
I got a shrug as the initial response. "We've tried keeping him out. He doesn't hurt anything, and we can't keep him out. As for being friendly, nobody else can get near him. Watch."
Politely, the director walked up near to the cat and turned to his side, put down a hand, and waited. Not only did the cat ignore him, he walked around to get to the other side of me from the Director, who gave a slightly self-deprecating laugh.
"Agent, it isn't just me. He doesn't let anybody here pet him."
"That's weird."
We continued on to restorations. I looked around. "Why is restorations always in the basement?"
Good thing I wasn't expecting a response - I didn't get one.
We stepped through a watertight door designed to keep the restoration room safe if we had another big flood here in Houston. The director introduced me to Vera.
I could tell from the braided tail going down the left side that she was an illusionist. But it wasn't long enough to indicate great power.
We greeted each other, and I got right down to business. "Vera, why were you working here late last night?"
She pointed at a statue. "I was working on this. It had been kept outside for decades and was starting to wear. I'm restoring it, cleaning it, and sealing it."
"Why so late at night?"
She shrugged - a popular expression at the museum. "Sometimes I just get carried away working on something. You get deep into the work. And it's relaxing. Besides, I'm a night owl. I'd prefer to sleep during the day, but the director makes us keep something of a normal schedule."
The director waved, indicating this was true.
I asked her, "And you're an illusionist."
Vera nodded. "A limited one. I can make myself invisible, generally. If it's too bright or sunny, or there's too many people, I tend to fuzz into existence. But it's useful mostly for practical jokes in college."
"I see. So, while you could turn invisible to get past the human guards, you still really wouldn't have any way to get past the wards sealing up the artifacts."
She nodded agreement. "Correct. I have access to everything, but the director and security always know what I have and where it is."
I thought for a moment. "Can I see your books? I'm just curious."
Another standard museum issue shrug - the question was a matter of politeness rather than permission I didn't need. "Of course."
We walked over to a desk overflowing with various bits and bobs of repaired items and equipment. She dug out a brown leather-bound book from underneath. "Here you are."
As she handed it to me, there was a slight change in the cover's color. I opened the book and paged through it, and sure enough, something didn't feel right.
I could feel the beads on the treads on the back of my head tingling against each other as they reacted to a mental magical power being exercised against me. In turn, I used my mental powers against her, freezing her in place and stopping her powers.
The book turned back to its original shade. I looked over at her.
"So, you can do something a little more than turn invisible."
She nodded. "Yes. But I didn't steal that bell."
I looked through the book.
"Director, there are a lot of loan outs going from this department."
The director started. "Loan outs from restoration? We don't loan anything from restoration. Everything here is staying in the museum. If it were going to be loaned out, that would be an entirely different department."
We both looked at Vera, who blushed.
"I've been marking artifacts as loaned out and then selling them."
The director gave a start. "Is this why your credit record suddenly got better? I just figured you finally paid off all that debt."
She shook her head sadly. "No. It was the stolen artifacts."
I pulled out an enchanted ward and worked it. A moment later, one of the on-call MSA personnel showed up, a young blonde woman in dreads.
Samantha looked at me. "Yes, sir?"
I indicated Vera. "Yes, ma'am. Please take this person into custody. Stealing and selling magical artifacts and attempting to defraud an investigation. Use the secure protocol."
The agent looked from me to Vera, looked at Vera's gorgeous brunette hair, and winced in sympathy. "Yes, sir."
The director and I continued on. Once again, the cat joined us as I explained to the director, "Sam's an excellent agent and moving up fast. I'll probably be working for her in five years. It's good to have just enough sympathy for people that you don't abuse them, and she's got that. She appreciates fashionable hair - at office parties she takes her dreads out. Drives our barber crazy."
The director ran his hand over his short-shorn head. "I've never really had much time for fashion. Too busy with the museum."
"It's good to enjoy your work."
We reached the visiting scholars' area, but nobody there had seen Wynn since the previous day. This was suspicious, but not immediately conclusive.
"Unless your visiting scholar is also covering up something, he would know enough to disable the wards on the alarms, but I don't think he'd be able to get past the human guards."
The director nodded. "We'll keep looking for him. Let me take you to accounting. You can talk to Geraldine there. If Winn is in, she's often here talking to him. I suspect that's why she was working late. But, as long as things are done on time, I try not to get too involved in how it gets there."
Geraldine had the loose, fashionably disarrayed hair of a master shapeshifter. We shook hands, and this time, she was the one who immediately got down to business.
"I was working late on the end-of-year accounting. Somebody's always turning in something late. You know how professors are. They can't do anything on time."
The director blushed and laughed. "She's telling the truth there."
I nodded. "Yeah. June, our master barber, is always telling me stories about her graduate school and postdoc. She said it drove her crazy."
While we talked, I wandered around the room. The Maine Coon was still with us. He jumped up onto a desk and stropped against my arm as I was idly stirring stuff around. Then he ran over and scratched at the closet door. I looked at the director, who shrugged. Geraldine seemed to be ignoring us, burying her head in an accounting book.
I went over and had just started turning the doorknob when I heard a noise behind me. Then I saw the director fly past and collapse against the wall. He looked alive but pretty out of it.
I turned around. Geraldine wasn't human anymore. In her place stood a huge, beautiful white polar bear. It had just finished swiping at the director. Fortunately, it hadn't used claws, so the director appeared to have survived.
The bear came at me, this time with claws. One paw swiped at me, and the beads on the dreads across my brow shook as they deflected the attack. I gathered myself, thought for a split second while the bear was recovering, and moved to one side, using my physical magic to knock the bear onto its side.
She flopped over. If she hadn't been trying to kill me, the bear might have been kind of cute at that point. I concentrated, and my magic bore down on her. Vines grew out of the floor, wrapping the bear in place. She started to transform into something different to get around the vines, so I spread them out quickly into more of a net. Eventually, the vines grew thick enough to hold her despite her continued transformations. Finally, she returned to her original form. She was angry and crying.
"I didn't steal your bell."
I moved over to the closet door where the Maine Coon cat still stood, the same door that had started the confrontation. Opening it revealed a dead body on the floor that could only be Wynn, the visiting scholar.
My reply was short. "But you did kill Wynn."
She hissed at me. I'd never heard a human hiss. She didn't transform. It was all natural.
"He deserved it. He wouldn't go out with me. I tried for weeks, and he just ignored me. Wrapped up in studying his magical wards."
I quirked one eyebrow and just let that lie. This time, when I contacted headquarters on my enchanted ward, the on-call agent was a young man. He looked at me. "Yes, sir?"
"Juan, the Director — the man lying in the corner who's still alive — needs medical assistance. Wynn is the dead man in the closet."
I gestured at the pile of vines constricting around the still hissing human female. "That's Geraldine. She killed him. And assaulted the Director and me."
The agent nodded. "Yes, sir."
He pulled out his own ward, most likely to bring in a medic for the director. I didn't need to tell him to use the secure protocols. Someone this violent, we always strip them of their magic.
I walked back to other end of the museum where the bell had been stored. I got there and just leaned against the case, thinking.
The Maine Coon cat, who had been following in front of me, jumped up on the case. He stropped once against my shoulder, then stretched his neck up and bit one of my dreads off.
I jumped back. "What the? Why would you do that?"
The Maine Coon sat there unflustered. He brought one paw up, licked it, and brushed back his fur.
Then he spoke. "I did that, so you'd be able to understand me."
I looked around. "I presume the illusionist is still locked up?"
The cat gave a feline chuckle. "Oh, she's locked up alright. This is just me. I know you humans haven't discovered how to speak to animals yet. Your magical defenses won't be as strong anymore. But more importantly, now you can talk to me."
"And why do I need to talk to you?"
"I took the bell."
"You?"
"Yes. Me. I'm Nicodemus."
Talking with a cat wasn't the weirdest thing I'd ever done.
Nicodemus licked his other front paw. "It was a cool toy. I can get through magical wards. I can cancel them. I can turn them back on. It's just a knack I have. My mom said my father had it, and his mother had it. I can show you where the bell is. It's in the rafters."
Sure enough, I followed the cat up a stairwell and through a side access. Sitting there in the eaves was the bell. It didn't look like the cat had caused any damage by playing with it. He took one more swipe at it before lifting the bell in his mouth and handing it to me.
We talked until the medics finished restoring the director to health, then went down to the director's office. Since he hadn't been there for the confrontation with Vera, he didn't have the full story, and I didn't quite fill him in. I let him know it probably was Wynn who had stolen it so that he could study it or do something with it. "But with Wynn dead, we'll never know for sure."
The director was happy enough to have the bell back and to have the embezzlement and the murderers taken care of.
As for Nicodemus, the black Maine Coon cat, and myself, we headed out together. As we walked out through the main doors, the two on-call agents were shepherding the two shaven-headed suspects out to the teleportation area. They hadn't had their laser therapy yet. That only happened if they were convicted.
Nobody questioned out loud why I was holding the cat. Or talking to it. "June is going to want to talk to you about hairstyling."
It was an interesting morning and promised to be an even more interesting career with Nicodemus at my side — all because I had the right haircut.
A Press of the Button
In Black Cat Tales anthology, we tell the story of A Press of the Button. So if you like stories with black cats, check this one out.
Black Cat Publishing (https://black-cat-publishing.com/) announced:
We are so excited to share that Black Cat Tales hit #1 on Barnes & Noble and IngramSpark's bestsellers lists for horror anthologies & collections! This is HUGE news for our little book about black cats! And we hit #51 for Amazon's New Short Stories Anthologies - that's across ANY genre - not just horror-specific! Wahoo!!
https://www.amazon.com/Black-Cat-Tales-Anthology-Cats-ebook/dp/B0DXMXX5JP/
And we’re still tickled over our first author interview!
Chaos Tip of the Week
Inspired by your cat’s strategic shedding? Why not embrace a hairstyle that starts furry at the top and fades to smooth at the edges—just like your black t-shirt after your Chaos Critter cuddles you.
Chaos Question of the Week
What’s the best, worst, or weirdest haircut you ever had?
I (Tod) didn’t get the haircut, but in college about a dozen Cadets from my outfit at TAMU were staying with me at my mom’s apartment. One of them needed his hair cut before march-in at the away football game. (Think quarter inch cut on the top and “whitewalls” or shaved sides.)
My mom didn’t have the right tools and had never tried this before. It wasn’t bad if he had his hat on, but once he uncovered, our Sophmores (The Corps of Cadets equivalent of sergeants) were all over him.