by Kate Danley
I was trying really to find a silver lining in this poop storm.
"Up the stairs!" I shouted at Killian. "Get the door open! I'll hold them off!"
And hold them off I was going to have to do. The vampire in the sky couldn't land on the walkway directly because of the overhang. So, instead, he jumped onto the railing and vaulted over. The nice bit about that was I was able to figure out where he was going to land and had my silver stake out to greet him before his feet landed.
Killian was fumbling with the door key. Damn those little green plastic key chains and their damned analog keys. I suppose they're safer than keyless entry when there's creatures out there who can short-circuit an electrical system, but still. I killed two more vampires by the time his hands stopped shaking long enough to open the door. He ran in and I turned to follow him, but he had thrown open the door so fast, it hit the wall, rebounded, and came back, slamming shut on my face. I pounded on it as another vampire dove towards me.
"Sorry! Sorry!" shouted Killian as he opened the door, grabbed me by the waist and hauled me in. The vampire hit the threshold like a kid belly flopping on a trampoline.
Killian and I were sprawled on the ground, legs and skirts akimbo. I reached out with my shit-kicking boots and kicked the shit out of that door getting it closed.
"Oh, man, Killian," I said, just collapsing fully onto the blessed industrial grossness of the horrible hotel carpet. I started to laugh. "You certainly know how to show a girl a good time." The vampires began pounding on the door. I looked up at Killian's king. "This is not how men usually get me into bed, but there is no way in hell I am opening that door before sunrise."
Killian had his scraped knees propped up in what the fitness gurus refer to as "constructive rest" and was gulping the air like a guppy. "It's like all my dreams are finally coming true."
"Lucky man," I said, suppressing a groan as my shoulder decided to let me know it was not at all happy with my life choices. I shouldn't be this beat. But I was. My eyes fell on Killian's locket, which had spilled out of his shirt. I wondered, not for the first time this evening, if maybe there were some unfortunate side effects. I was too tired to figure it out tonight, though. I pointed weakly. "I'll take the side closest to the window. In case someone breaks in and tries to kill us." I crawled over and hauled myself up. "Damn, that hurt."
"Oh, Maggie," said Killian, closing his eyes. "I believe, as you would say, we are fucked."
Chapter Ten
The vampires were at our door for the rest of the night. We both slept fitfully. The next morning, I went over to the other room and packed my shit faster than the Abominable Snowman can skate down the Matterhorn. With all the shitty shit that had gone down in the past couple days, I wasn't risking having my partner shishkabobbed when I was sleeping it off in the next room. And vice versa. Sometimes you gotta make sure you can watch each other's backs. Even if it means hearing a person fart in a shared bathroom.
I went into the lobby and our friendly little proprietor was still sitting behind the counter. He looked surprised to see me, but pleased as punch. I guess it meant he didn't have to break in a new employee for at least another night.
I slid the key to my room across the sticky counter. "We're consolidating," I informed him.
"Lovely!" Gustav answered, taking the fob and tapping a few things into the computer. "It is our busiest season and the extra room will be most appreciated." He then looked at me shrewdly. "No refunds."
"I stayed for one night!" I exclaimed.
"In a two-week reservation. I'm sorry. Our computer system cannot process reversals on payments."
I shook my head. I wanted to tell him the exact location of the IP where he could shove his network, but looking at his computer, he might not be lying. Plus, his threshold had saved our lives last night. Our work here was not yet done and that threshold was worth not getting evicted over a little extra spending cash. I sighed in defeat and took the key back. "Well, then, maybe I'll just hang onto this so that we know who our neighbors are."
Gustav gave me a little shrug. "Suit yourself."
I wasn't quite done yet. Not knowing if I was dealing with a good gnome or a bad gnome, I traced a knot in the wood. The waxy furniture polish gooped up beneath my nail. "So..." I inquired casually. "The Bringers of Light. They rent your place much?"
The little man's face brightened. "They are this year's sponsors! We enjoy having their presence at our festivities."
"But..." I didn't know how much to reveal. "Okay, so there's some seriously screwy stuff going on in that tent."
"Why do you think I hire Other Siders like you and your friend?"
"But people are dying in there!" I pointed out.
"Bah! Dying? It is merely a celebration!" Gustav spun on his stool and pulled a binder off a shelf. He flipped to the last page. "See? Permits all in order!"
I glanced at it and, sure enough, all legal and signed by Stan, that piece of shit president of the World Walker Association. He had signed everything for an Oktoberfest feed, as well as work permits for the folks in the tent. Now, I knew that I wasn't in that tent legally, so that meant that the whole stack of paper was a ream of lies. But, it'd hold up if anyone came questioning, but, let's be honest. Stan signed it. No one was going to be coming around.
"But are they aware of what is going on?" I pressed. "I mean... someone has to tell them this is not what it looks like on paper."
"Oh, just a little blood draw here. A little blood draw there. With the eclectic gathering of tastes in this town, I assure you it is most mutually beneficial."
"I don't know if it is entirely consensual," I pointed out. "That curfew was not very well explained.
Gustav looked at me sharply. I realized I was not dealing with a good gnome. "I would be more than happy to report you are here and would like to make a complaint. If you could provide me with your permit number, it will make things go so much smoother."
"You want what?" I asked, feeling like he had smacked me across the face.
He leaned across the counter. There was a hard glint in his beady little eyes. "Oh. You know. I would be more than happy to tell the World Walker Association there is someone under my employment who does not appear to have a permit and she would like to talk with a World Walker."
I leaned across and took him by his German suspenders.
He just grinned. "Really? I put up with ogres and vampires all hours of the day and night. Do you think someone like you is about to strike the fear in me?"
I must be losing my touch.
I put him back down and smoothed down the green velvet. "I apologize. You caught me off guard."
"Of course! Of course," said Gustav. He put the binder on the shelf. "It is important to find out where you stand with others, where the boundaries are so to speak, especially when the others are Others. But now that we've established the pecking order, if you touch me again, I will have the World Walkers on-premise to haul you back to the Other Side prison so fast your ears will pop."
I didn't have the heart to tell him that the only World Walker capable of bringing someone like me in was right in front of him.
As if reading my mind, he added, "Also, our housekeeper is so friendly to everyone. It would be terrible if she accidentally invited someone over your threshold, especially someone you didn't particularly want inside. I hate when that happens."
I bit back another response and reminded myself sometimes it's about surviving until you can get out safely. "Fair enough," I replied as I turned to leave.
"And by the way," Gustav called after me, "we're so pleased to have you as a part of our hospitality team."
He gave me a happy little wave and was unable to suppress his evil cackle as I stumbled outside to the courtyard. I put on my sunglasses. Killian leaned against a large terracotta planter. He was sporting a handy pair of sunglasses, too, but his were more about hiding his black eye from the night before. We needed to see about getting the elf a flask of ambrosia. Sure, he
didn't have the super healing powers of the elves any more, but that didn't mean there weren't other options available.
"So," he said as he stood up and fell in step beside me. "Were you able to reacquire our initial room investment?"
I held up the key. "Epic fail. Also had an interesting little conversation with our host with the most."
"Oh! Was he aware of the extent of the activities happening in the tent?"
"He knows all right," I said as we wheeled towards the shopping area. "We have ourselves a regular slum lord. He's thrilled to pieces to be able to play host to such a group of undead hemoglobin epicureans."
"I will never understand your people," Killian said, looking over at the faux ski chalet and shaking his head.
"You and me both, Killian," I replied. "Want to hear the sickest part of it?"
"What?" he asked.
"The permits were in order. Signed, sealed and delivered by the head of the World Walker Association." I jammed my fists in my pockets. "How come bastards like the Bringers of Light can run this sort of an operation and I get booted out?"
"Corruption?"
"I need to rethink my whole stance on fighting for the powers of good." I shook my head. "Evil hands out far better year-end bonuses and perks." I shivered as we walked by one of the dead zones. "I mean, aside from the killing and maiming and awfulness."
We stopped in front of Fritz's antique shop.
"Are you prepared?" Killian asked me.
"As much as I will ever be," I replied.
We neither of us moved.
"I really hope the wooden soldier doesn't come out to shoot us again," I confessed.
Killian nodded sympathetically. "I hope I am not knocked unconscious."
We sighed in unison and then both pushed open the door.
Fritz was leaning over his glass counter reading The Woodcutter's Weekly. He closed it the moment he realized who it was and looked just about to make a run for it.
"Wait!" I said, holding up my hand. "We're not here to bust your chops or bust up your store."
He pursed his lips. His reply sounded like an accusation. "Your mother said you would be back."
"Mothers know everything." I jerk my thumb to Killian and myself. "We, however, do not and would really appreciate it if you would talk with us for a few minutes."
Fritz held up his watch. "I'll give you five."
"Okay," I said. I pointed to the shelves that had opened to reveal the wooden soldier. "We were sent to pick up your cuckoo clock and give it to the Queen of the Elves."
He gave a low whistle. "So, my work is getting the attention of royalty. Ladeedah."
"As became apparent to us, there's no getting that clock out of here without a U-Haul."
"Well, if you had called about making a purchase instead of strolling in here to steal from me, I could have told you that."
"It kind of kills the element of surprise," I replied. "We've found from past experience folks have a tendency to mark up the goods."
Killian nodded, affirming the truth of what I was saying.
"Well, it ain't for sale and you couldn't get it out of here if you wanted to, because as you noticed, it is integrated into the entire building," he said, folding his arms and looking like he was ready to tell us our five minutes were up even though we had been talking for about a grand total of thirty seconds.
"Listen, I could drop this building through a portal to the Other Side right this minute," I informed him, but then backed off. "But I won't. We're here for the clock but accept that's not going to happen. That doesn’t change the fact, though, that you've been selling people magical objects sans the magic. That's a really easy way to get a lot of pretty powerful people pissed off at you. I want to find out why. What's worth that risk?"
Fritz looked at me and then looked at Killian. I think he was trying to figure out if we were worth trusting.
"I promise I'm not here to hurt you," I reiterated, but then I picked up a crystal inkwell that was making my tracker senses tingle. "But I can assure you the next people who arrive in your shop will."
His shoulders slumped. "Put that down," he said. "You already broke half of the magical objects in my shop, I don't need you breaking anymore."
"I'll put it down when you decide to answer our questions." I motioned for him to begin.
He stuck his arms out as if baring his soul to the heavens. He was a man with nothing to lose. "I'm the last hope of Little Bavaria," he proclaimed.
"Begyourpardon, what?" I asked.
He gestured to the shop. There was a desperation in his voice, like he really wanted to talk about this but also really didn't. "Listen, we were just a quiet little magical community, happy to keep our noses in our own businesses. I ran a nice, little antique shop with secondhand charms. My parents put it together. They brought the heart of the clock over from the Black Forest. This was like, their dream. Their own little fairytale. And then that bastard Gustav shows up."
"The gnome who owns the hotel?"
"That's the one. Who would have guessed so much mean could fit inside such a wee little body."
I corrected him. "Let's not be vertically-impaired-ophobic. Assholes come in all sizes."
Fritz sighed deeply and collapsed into his hands on the counter. "I was balls deep in debt. You gotta believe, I didn't want any of this. We used to have a really nice community. But... it looked like this was the only way out of it. Gustav owned the complex and was jacking up the rent. He said he'd give me a twenty-year fixed rate if I went along with his plan, so... sometimes you gotta sell a little bit of your soul to cover the cost of a dream. I told Gustav to go ahead and start renting rooms in his hotel to the minions of evil if it would help to get a few more people into Little Bavaria."
I reiterated with a little bit of incredulity. "So, this? All of this? This nightly bloodbath? This is all because you shopkeepers couldn't pay your rent and needed to increase the tourist trade?"
He shrugged. "Listen, this whole experience has been one giant nutcracker, and I'm not talking about carved, wooden dolls."
Killian folded his arms and considered Fritz. "When did you realize that things were not going according to plan?"
"Did you see the tent out in the parking lot? The big, white, friendly looking tent where they drain every college-aged kid with a drinking problem in the greater county of Los Angeles? That was a bit of a red flag."
"Okay, so you realized that shit was going down," I said, trying to move the conversation along.
But Fritz was on a roll. "Oh, but THEN the vampires start coming in my shop and start some magical extortion. If I don't supply them with the supplies they need, they're going to kill me, eviscerate me, and eat me. And that order of events is contingent on how big the screw up is."
"So... what did you do?"
"Well, first I went to Gustav and was like, 'Hey! Quit renting to those assholes.' But no one ever listens to me. So, that's when I decided to take matters into my own hands."
"And do what?" I asked, figuring out how all the pieces fit together but needing him to say it out loud to make sure I was right.
"Well, first off, I started selling folks bum magical objects and stockpiling the real things here in case we needed them."
"You stated 'first off'," Killian said. "What was the 'second off'?"
Fritz banged his fist on the wall a couple times in frustration. It was like he knew he was backed into a corner, but it was what it was. Whatever conversation he was having inside his head, he appeared to have lost the argument. He shook his head and turned to us. "Okay, so... Can I trust you?"
"Off a cliff!" chirped Killian, his face bright and smiley.
I waved Killian's comment away. "He's still figuring out American turns of phrase. Yes, you can trust us."
"Your mom came in here saying something about how there's stuff you can do but I don't know what that old bird was twittering on about. If there's nothing I can do to help except hold this ground, I don't know what y
ou two are going to be able to do."
"We're really good at helping," I said. Killian took the inkwell out of my hand and placed it on the shelf. I pointed to where it rested. "See? Helping."
Fritz sighed. "Well, you might as well come into the backroom and see what's going on." He waved his hand to us and we picked our way past the stacks of old catalogs and ancient paintings. He pushed open a dented metal door. I guess yesterday's attack wasn't the first time something like this had happened.
The backroom was completely different than the front of the shop. It was double the size of what should have fit into the building and looked like Gepetto's workshop. The entire place was carved wood – tables, stools, ceiling beams, everything. And on the wall separating the shop from the workshop was the face and workings of a massive clock. The gears weren't moving. Two wooden soldiers as tall as me stood on the circular track which fed to two wooden doors, the doors which opened to the shop. A large mechanical bird rested in the eaves. Its head was tucked under its wing and if I looked closer, it almost seemed like it had nestled its head into its wooden feathers at the disturbance.
"This is a mighty magic," said Killian, releasing a low whistle.
Suddenly a whole bunch of things started to click. Killian had carvings back home which came to life. I looked at Fritz. "Are you an elf?"
"Not that I know of," he said, looking at me like I was crazy-pants.
"No, the carvings!" I turned to Killian. "You know... someone... an elf... who was an artist and had carvings around his house and they came to life whenever he fell under attack." It took Killian a few minutes to realize I was talking about him.
"Wait, you've seen something like this before?" Fritz asked with excitement.
