P.M.S. - Protective Magical Services

P.M.S.
Written By: Megan Nichole
Sandman
Chapter One

This was getting ridiculous. I never agreed to put my people in this situation. One more slip up and this client was being put on the “Never Again” list. My people didn’t sign up for this. Come to think of it, neither did I. I started Protective Magical Services (P.M.S.) three years ago at the age of eighteen to protect the more high profile magical citizens of the United States. As soon as I got La-De-Da back to the home they shared in Connecticut, I was done with them. By the look in Ethan Franklin’s eyes, I knew he felt the same.

Ethan Franklin was the first one to join P.M.S. Originally, I had wanted it to be all females, to keep the gag going. (Because, yes, I realize the ambiguousness of the anagram of the business name.) However, Ethan Franklin had it in him. I couldn’t turn him down for the job. He ended up being the first of many male employees.

La-De-Da waved and shouted back to their throng of adoring fans as Ethan and I made sure that no harm came to them, using our telepathic abilities to be heard over the noise.

This is crazy. Tell me again why we keep doing this?

I laughed silently. Because you’re a money hungry mother –

Shut your mouth. Then Ethan started laughing. I smiled to myself. The real reason we were here with La-De-Da was because Ethan enjoyed their music and each of them had my first name as their middle one. That’s right: Lark Lyric Lawson, December Lyric Rixner, and Daphne Lyric Lineman. That’s how the three of them because close in third grade and stayed close through the years. Now, each of them twenty-three, they had staying power in the music industry that I sometimes envied.

What are you think about now? Ethan asked. This kid (okay, he’s three years older then I am) always seemed to know when I get a tiny bit depressed. I smiled, directing La away from a big guy holding up a sign and screaming his head off. I ignored the smut written on his poster and kept going. La saw it though and wasn’t very pleased. We finally got them to their bus and soon we were pulling away from the curb.

I QUIT! I sighed, internally. Ethan laughed again. As soon as we get to Connecticut, I’m running far away from these three. Just then there was a loud cackle as the three super famous pop stars were getting reading for the long ride home. Ethan sat beside me on the couch. Usually, we would take turns sleeping and standing guard. We were both so excited to be going home soon, I knew we would be up all night. We sat there, idle, for several minutes before my phone rang. Ugh, it just never stops.

“Protective Magic Services, Lyric Scott, here. How may I be of service?” I took a deep breath as I tracked down my drink. Ethan handed it to me as a raspy voice filled my ear through the telephone.

“Someone you love and protect – Will no longer sing or project – To save this person from certain doom – Be at the Harrisville Docks, in three days time at Noon.” The connection died as I stared at Ethan. I quickly snapped out of it and grabbed some paper and a pen. I wrote the message down, leaving space between the lines. Ethan asked me several times what had happened and then grabbed it instead, reading it over while I took a giant swallow from my drink. Ethan mumbled, pacing the length of the small room. He mumbled as he paced while I finally took the time to take in my surroundings. The walls were. . .pink, along with everything else on the bus. The couch, the chair, the cupboards, they were all pink. Not only was everything overly-pink, everything was the same blasted shade. I mean, all of La-De-Da’s stuff is that same, sickening, bright pink. I just don’t understand how they can live in that color everywhere. All of a sudden, I was dreading Connecticut. Like it or not, Ethan and I were assigned two days of home security before we could leave. Blasted!

“Lyric, are you still with me, over there?” Ethan said, pulling me out of my internal rant. “Lyric, we have sixteen hours to figure this out so they can’t surprise us. Do you want me to call this in to the rest of the team or will it be just the two of us?” Ethan had crouched down in front of me in his desperation to get my attention. “Lyric? Lyric, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you better have all available personnel to meet us in Connecticut. You and I will work on this until then. When we arrive, we put two people on home detail for La-De-Da while the rest of them are updated on this case. This is our top priority until otherwise stated.”

“Yes, Bosslady,” Ethan said with a cocky grin. He turned to a corner and concentrated on telepathically informing all available employees on our next adventure. I glanced at the pink clock on the wall: sixteen hours and counting.

*~*~*

Three hours later, Ethan and I were settling La-De-Da into their mansion as we alternatively took turns doing perimeter and security checks. (After asking their permission, we magically enhanced the bus to get them home quicker.) After a quick summary, Lark Lyric Lawson (La) told us that we could use their ballroom as our “war center.” Nicely said, Lark. Quickly, Ethan and I pinned up a map of Harrisville, PA and some other reference material we thought would be useful. La-De-Da’s butler, Nathaniel, had turned out to be quite helpful to us already. Eric and Riley had asked to take a team to Harrisville and watch for anything peculiar until a plan of action was decided. I granted the request, adding that the place they find should be big enough to fit the rest of us comfortably. No reason to be totally put out by this new mess. With Eric and Riley taking a team to PA, it left us with a dozen employees.

“How are we going to be able to figure out who this guy took?” Laurie Michelle White asked as she entered the ball room. Ethan smiled at her and started to explain that I needed to get in contact with someone that could help us out. “How will he help us,” Laurie asked. Ethan explained some more as I used a piece of chalk to draw a circle on a cleared space of floor.

“I thought you didn’t like witchcraft,” came the loud voice of Phineas Devlin as he marked his entrance into the “war room.” I’m sure he was referring to the fact that it probably looked like something out of “The Craft.” Phineas purposely took a chair and sat nearby while I worked.

“To answer you question, Loudmouth, this is the only way to bring this particular contact into the physical world without injuring him,” I said as Phineas watched on with a smug look on his face.

“Oh, what do you want to call that old Goat in for,” Phineas asked, “I really don’t want to see any of my relatives today.” I throw the stub of chalk at him as I went over to the table to drink some water before I started calling in the contact. “Really, there’s no other way?” Phineas asked, hopefully. I shook my head. This guy was our best bet until we figured out what was going on. “I better tell my Dad, just so he knows,” he said, giving in. I nodded as he went to the far side of the room, yet untouched by our massive operation.

Sighing, Ethan brought over a borrowed guitar and sat down in Phineas’ vacated chair. Laurie stood across from me, on the other side of the circle. When Lily Thompson and Grace Finnegan showed up, they stood across from each other to my right and left. I sighed and nodded to Ethan who now displayed a wicked smile. Lovely. Ethan started playing and the four of us together (Laurie, Lily, Grace, and I) started singing the song:

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
Make him the cutest that I've ever seen
Give him two lips like roses and clover
Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over.
Sandman, I'm so alone
Don't have nobody to call my own
Please turn on your magic beam
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream.

At this point, the chalk line started glowing and the guitar music Ethan was playing was accompanied by invisible drums and keyboards, that I assumed were being played by invisible musicians.


Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
Make him the cutest that I've ever seen
Give him the word that I'm not a rover
Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over.
Sandman, I'm so alone
Don't have nobody to call my own
Please turn on your magic beam
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream.

The space within the circle was lighted now, a soft golden glow. A deep male voice began humming along with the tune. The light in the middle rose up and formed a tower which immediately fell to reveal a man. The man, about 5’6”, began dancing. Dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black leather jacket, he looked like he belonged in the T-Birds of Grease.

Mr. Sandman (male voice: "Yesss?") bring us a dream
Give him a pair of eyes with a "come-hither" gleam
Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci
And lots of wavy hair like Liberace
Mr. Sandman, someone to hold (someone to hold)
Would be so peachy before we're too old
So please turn on your magic beam
Mr. Sandman, bring us, please, please, please
Mr. Sandman, bring us a dream.*
The music continued. In harmony, the four us continued. “Mr. Sandman. . . . .Mr. Sandman. . . . . .Mister. . . .”

“SANDMAN!” The man in the circle threw up his arms in his excitement of yelling the last bit of the song. I shook my head as the man continued dance even though the last chord had ended well over a minute ago. “I just love that song,” the Sandman gushed. “Mr. Sandman. . . .Mr. Sandman,” he continued to sing. I glanced over at Lily, who in turn, pointed a finger at him. The next second, the Sandman was spitting out daisies.
“Really, was that necessary,” he said, spitting the last daisy to the floor. Laurie and Grace laughed. Lily had a smug smirk on her face. I, however, stared the Sandman down, waiting for him to get to business. “Okay, okay, what do you want from me now. I haven’t been doing anything wrong. C’mon, now, Lyric, give an old boy a break.”

“Who implied you did anything wrong,” I asked, “guilty conscience?” I smiled in spite of myself. The Sandman has done some pretty rotten things and can be a bit of a pervert, but I still like him. He also think he’s great for a case like these.

“As you’ve probably figured out by now, we need your particular expertise in this matter,” Phineas said, coming closer despite his outward grimace. “Father and the others know, so don’t do anything but what we ask you.”

“Many-times-great grandson Phineas, is that any way to treat your elders,” the Sandman sneered, taking on his usual appearance of a man in his mid-fifties. He now wore a robe type outfit. The robe he donned was red in color with silver streaming through it like sand blowing the dessert. His salt and pepper hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His hair isn’t very long and stops at the top of his shoulders. “I should teach you a lesson, but. . .” I glared at him. “But, we don’t have time. Don’t worry, Phineas, I’ll get you eventually.”

“Not likely, Alexander,” I said, calling him by his real name. “Now, are you going to help us or not?” He looked around the room, surveying his prospects of escape. After several boring minutes, he conceding, saying he couldn’t see any other alternative. “Thought you’d see it my way, Alexander.”

“Yes, Alexander, thought you’d see it our way,” Ethan piped up. He received a glare for his troubles before filling the Sandman in on our situation. “So, anyway, we figured. . .I mean Lyric figured. . .yes, that’s right. . .Lyric figured that you could find this person when they are asleep and then come back and tell us where they are.” The Sandman smiled at Ethan.

“Will I be let out of the circle?”

“We’ll see, Sandman. Let’s see how well you do with this task,” I said. “If all goes well, I think it’s worth a two-day pass. I’ll have to take full responsibility for you and you do as I say.” He gave me a mock salute and then disappeared on his own accord. “Gods, that man drives me crazy!”