Chapter Twenty-Three
The Wonder Water bottling plant was in a small, unmarked, factory like structure on Edgewood Drive, just off of Olympic Boulevard in Los Angeles. The bunker-like building was the only commercial structure on what was a quiet, residential street.
We ubered over there, the trip taking less than fifteen minutes. During the ride over, Alan didn’t talk to me, wouldn’t look even at me. Alexia had successfully worked her magic on him, driving a wedge between us.
“My Great Aunt Winsome lives here,” she said as we got out.
Alan paid the driver, and we approached a non-descript sheet metal covered door. Alexia pounded on the door.
“Great Aunt Winsome, it’s me, Alexia!” she called out.
We waited several minutes. Just when I thought no one was going to answer, the door scraped open.
A tiny woman with a shock of snow white hair was on the other side. When the woman saw Alexia, a smile as big as Texas blossomed on her face.
“Is that my Grand-niece, Alexia? Why, yes it is. Come in, come in.”
I could tell from the timber of Great Aunt Winsome’s voice that she was quite old, yet her skin was soft, with very few wrinkles. She moved with ease and grace.
Alexia introduced us as her friends, although for me, nothing could have been further from the truth.
“Don’t call me great Aunt Winsome, boys. That makes me sound too old. Call me Winnie,” she said, flashing a wholesome smile.
Winnie led us into a cozy parlor brimming with sagging, overstuffed chairs, and antique furniture. The feel and smell of the place reminded me of my grandmother’s house.
Alexia orchestrated it so that she and Alan were seated together on a tight settee, with me across for them in a large, high back chair with floral print upholstery. When I sat down on the sagging cushions, I sunk deep into the chair.
After we were all seated, Winnie turned to Alexia. “How’s your mother?” she asked, in a tone that sounded skeptical.
“She’s fine. We moved. We now live in Beverly Hills, south of the boulevard.”
“You don’t say. I guess that means Roxanne and Eudora aren’t getting on any better?”
“Afraid not,” Alexia replied. If she had any feelings about the state of their relationship, she gave off nothing.
After some small talk, Winnie asked what brought us there in the middle of the night.
Alexia proceeded to tell the story of her and Roxanne moving out of the compound, and winding up living next door to Alan. She told of the Lycorian that was hiding out in Alan’s pool, and that we planned on dealing with it.
Throughout her story, she massaged Alan’s shoulders, and played with his hair. Alan sat stiffly, as if in a trance, never gazing in my direction. I wondered if all the touching was part of the spell she’d put on him.
“Oh, my goodness,” Winnie said, after Alexia had completed her tale. “A Lycorian, huh? Nasty creatures,” she said, looking at me. “And quite dangerous.”
“There’s a hot spring here?” I asked, looking around.
“Yes. It’s in the backyard. It’s one of the smaller eruptions, but its secret is just as important as the others. This was the first one discovered by the outside world back in nineteen-ten by a man named Harold Grant. Before that discovery, only the native Americans and the Nereid knew of the springs. The two races lived side-by-side in harmony with nature. Grant bought the land thinking he was going to find oil here.” She laughed. “He had no idea that what he’d discovered was more precious than oil, more precious than gold.”
“Water?” I asked.
“Not just water, young man. The hot spring maintains a temperature of just over one hundred degrees. The alkaline in the water contains silica, iron, aluminum oxides, plus a whole lot of elements surveyors back then had never seen before. Discovering this spring was like discovering the fountain of youth.” She laughed. “Of course, Grant had no idea what he’d purchased, and my people were not about to tell him.”
“It’s right here in the heart of Los Angeles, and people still don’t know about it?” I asked.
“Thank goodness, no. These hot springs are key to the Nereid’s survival. We lose control of them, and our race will be wiped out like dinosaurs.” She snorted. “If folks knew what was here, these springs would be overrun. Just look at what goes on up in Murrieta, and that hot spring isn’t even enchanted.”
I’d heard of the popular resort, Murrieta Hot Springs, in a small town north of Los Angeles.
“Would you like to see the spring?” Winnie asked. Her eyes were shining, as if she were Santa Claus asking if I wanted to see Santa’s workshop.
“Oh, yeah,” I replied.
It was a tiny backyard, lush with plants, and overgrown with tall grasses. The spring was covered by a large tarp. We could feel its heat as soon as we stepped outside, see the steam pushing up from beneath the covering.
“Remove that thing from on top, will ya, boys?” Winnie said, pointing.
Alan and I peeled back the tarp, revealing a pool of bubbling water, ten feet in diameter. The delightful fragrance of the spring wafted up to us. Light radiated from within the pool, and once the tarp was pulled back, the entire backyard was bathed in eerie light emanating from the water.
There was a metal contraption alongside the tiny, bubbling pool, with aluminum tubing that brought to mind a backwoods still, or an old-fashioned expresso machine.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I sell a few gallons of the water each week to some of the neighborhood folk in the storefront around the other side of the building. That there is how I bottle it. People think I have it shipped in. No one knows I bottle it right here.”
She moved to a wooden crate at the bottom of the back steps containing empty glass bottles that brought to mind old fashioned coke bottles. She removed a bottle and worked her way over to the metal contraption. “I bottle water the old fashioned way, one bottle at a time,” she said with a short laugh.
She picked up a long rubber hose that ran alongside the metal contraption, stuck the nozzle inside the bottle and pulled on a valve. Steaming water rushed inside the glass bottle, filling it to the top almost instantly.
Winnie held the bottle to her eyes, and smiled. The contents gave off an eerie glow. “It’ll stop shimmering in a few days. That’s when I know it’s ready for sale. Can’t sell glowing water. People will think it’s radioactive.” She chuckled again.
“People buy that?” I asked.
“I can’t say I have a thriving business, but I make out all right. Word of mouth customers only. Those who buy, always come back. This water is good for just about anything that ails you.” She smiled proudly at the glowing bottle in her hand. “This is truly a wonder drug.”
A scratching sound in the thick foliage across the yard drew our attention.
“Shh,” Winnie said lowering her voice. “There’s an alley back there. Homeless people sleep in it from time-to-time. They’re harmless.”
“Really? It sounds dangerous,” Alexia said.
“They’re actually a blessing. They keep the vandals away. As long as there are homeless, my secret is safe,” she said with a sly grin.
She moved across the yard to a wall of tall green foliage, and began peeling back the growth to get a glimpse into the alley. That’s when the Lycorian’s arm shot through the heavy foliage, and wrapped around her throat.