Page 57 of Midnight Auto Parts

“Your definition ofgreatconcerns me.”

“The first time Matty drove,” I recalled, “he was so nervous he vomited on himself.”

Not his fault, really, when St. Mary’s made us walk anywhere we wanted to go. We had only been in the van used for school trips once, so it wasn’t surprising he had motion sickness from the hunk of junk I had bought for us. I saw now that the sisters had done their best to narrow the scope of our world and teach us as few life skills as possible so that independence frightened kids with more malleable personalities.

Even if we had stuck around to age out of the system, us Marys would have been the first three in line to receive our diplomas come graduation day. Better behaved children might not have known the fear that clawed my insides raw at night, but Josie was a hellion, and Matty and I had known the sisters for what they were: monsters.

“The first time Josie drove, she ran straight into a tree. She spent the next month sobbing that she was a murderer and healing its injuries.” I snorted. “She didn’t drive for a year after that.”

A curious lilt in his tone, he asked, “What about you?”

“I was never afraid of cars. I learned how to hot-wire them early.” I had been taught by the kids I ran with back then. “I stole cars for about a week before I felt too guilty. Without transportation, people can’t pay their bills. They rely on cars to take their kids to school, the doctor, after-school activities.” I sighed. “I couldn’t stomach that job and got put on another.”

Pickpocketing was more my speed. I chose targets who could afford a minor loss.

Guilt still clawed at me, but I blocked it out by hugging my siblings after I got in from a night’s work. I had done it for them. I would have kept doing it too. Had I not been a budding necromancer, I couldn’t have earned enough to break the cycle. I was one of the lucky ones.

“Is that what drew you to operating a car repair shop?”

“Huh.” I reflected on what I had told him. “I never considered that.”

The subconscious mind was a tapestry of past regrets, future fears, and randomness collected throughout our days woven together into the fiber of our beings.

“Why did you choose it then?”

“The reasons I gave you for not stealing a car are valid for why people repair them no matter the cost.”

People skipped meals to afford parts. They begged family or friends for loans. They worked extra shifts.

Good mechanics were hard to find, and car repair was as necessary as groceries in rural communities.

Amazing how much business you could accumulate if you charged fair rates, kept your promises, and did your best to patch holes in the supply chain before your bottom line tripped and fell into them.

“Then you made a wise investment in your future.”

“Seems that way.” I shrugged off the past. “We’re lucky we can afford to specialize these days.”

We still performed bread-and-butter routine services. Oil changes. Tire repairs, replacements, rotations. But the real money was in the classic car restoration. A niche I owed entirely to the Suarezes.

Though, to be fair, many of the cars weren’t classics during the Suarezes’ lifetime.

They were just, well,cars.

A horn blared in the distance, drawing our attention, and Carter rolled to a stop in front of the shop.

The window whirred as it lowered, and she called, “Hop in, you two.”

Crinkles fanned out from Kierce’s eyes as he smiled at her ordering us around like her underlings.

Once we got in and put our seat belts on, I met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Bossy, aren’t we?”

“Oh?” Her sly grin promised mischief. “Your sister likes it.”

“Eww, eww, eww.”I plugged my ears with my fingers. “I don’t want to know what she likes.”

As I hummed to drown out what she said next, a spear of heat struck me in the abdomen and yanked.

The light engulfingme ebbed until my vision cleared enough to tell I was answering a summons.

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