The Messengers Menagerie (The Courier Chronicles Book 1)

by Joey Anderle

  Auralee, on the other hand, decided to not use Booker as an example as she spoke back to Alphonse, “How is that the right choice, for all we know he just put more information out there to be used against us!”

  Alphonse glared toward Auralee in such a way it made her question her authority as royalty, “Because,” he stated, “chances are they were burned, meaning they were borderline left on this side of the realm until they can route themselves a way out. I doubt these bounty hunters will be happy with their client, making them great turncoats. Plus, if it got out, even as a rumor, that a Princess had personally executed even criminals in times like this?”

  Alphonse whistled, “I mean, it’d be ideal for business I guess, but also to Booker’s point, holes aren’t fun to dig.”

  “Unless you get a giant backhoe,” the enthusiastic Booker chimed in, then mimicked how he’d think operating the mechanical excavator would go.

  “Hm,” Auralee accepted.

  Booker looked around as something clicked in his head, “Hold on, Delvar and Mordecai are still here?”

  “Likely, yes,” Alphonse nodded. “If I were in their employer's shoes, I would want as little to do with them on paper as possible, so burning them and keeping them in this realm would keep their mouths shut.”

  “So, they’re still here, as in probably in this area.” Booker restated.

  Shifting her gaze over, Auralee addressed him, “Yes, Sterling. They are likely still here.”

  Booker clapped his hands in excitement and made his way to the valet box on the wall where Alphonse kept his assortment of car keys, “Gimme gimme gimme,” He kept the hand with the bracelet in his pocket, his other dancing along the keyrings like they were piano keys.

  “Bad Booker,” Alphonse started towards him, startling Booker.

  Feeling the pressure of the impending Alphonse, Booker snagged the first pair of keys that looked like luxury, hastily shutting the panel and taking a few steps away, “Too late!” Booker claimed, shooting his clenched hand into his jacket pocket.

  They froze in their positions, every time Alphonse threatened to take a step forward, Booker moved a foot behind him.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” Booker started.

  “Uh huh,” Alphonse responded, more curious on how Booker planned to sucker him into getting his way.

  Booker licked his lips, “If I can guess the country of the maker, I get to keep the keys.”

  Alphonse nodded, “If you don’t…”

  “If I don’t then there is an Edsel with my name on it.” Booker bet.

  “Okay,” Alphonse accepted the terms, “Shoot.”

  “Germ-” Booker’s face went sour as he had second thoughts, “No, no, no, not German it is,” Booker felt an immense pressure as his thumb glided over the keys topography, “British?” He sucked air through his teeth as he tried to dispel final doubts.

  “If you get this wrong,” Alphonse clicked his tongue, “Qué lástima, what a shame.”

  “British and you can fight me about it, Alphonse,” Booker answered with confidence. He brought his hand out of his pocket, keeping his fingers cradling the prize. Slowly he opened his hand, his eyes scanning every bit of it for a logo. Closing his hand in a fraction of the time when he figured who had made the car.

  “Well, spit it out, I can’t let that poor Edsel rust away now.” Alphonse taunted.

  “You’ll have to let it sit there for another while because” Booker flashed the keys at Alphonse and the cocky elf's demeanor slipped away. “Guess who’s driving a Rolls Royce? It's me.”

  Alphonse squinted back, “How interesting; you managed to snag one of two British made cars out of the sea of German, Italian, Korean, American, French, and Japanese.”

  Booker raised his hand up to stop Alphonse and his speech, “You have one French car, don’t act like it's not an anomaly too, just be happy for me.”

  Alphonse shrugged, his face neutral then turned into regret as he groaned.

  Booker attempted to remedy Alphonse with an explanation, “It’s not even your favorite car, you’d pick something German or a classic Americana before you’d remember you even have a Royce.”

  “It’s not that,” Alphonse responded, “I can only fathom the amount it's going to cost me in gas alone.”

  “Mmm,” Booker nodded as he understood Alphonse's concern, a twelve-cylinder car wouldn’t be very light with its gas consumption. “That sucks. I think we need to get going if we have any chance of my plan working.”

  Auralee looked concerned, “You have a plan?”

  “Yes, I have a plan,” Booker defended, “And it’ll only work in the front seat of a Rolls Royce.” He dangled the keys, “I’m already halfway there.”

  “Fine, get to it, I have some strings that need pulling anyhow,” Alphonse waved a hand to dismiss them, taking out his smartphone and letting his thumb dance across the screen.

  Booker let out a small sound of glee as he left the Princess. He sprinted across the lawn to the garage, eager to get on his way.

  When Auralee made her way out the door, Booker was nowhere to be found, not even the soft pitter patter of his shoes across the lawn could be heard, she waited around for the moment. Inspecting Alphonse's estate and suddenly becoming aware of exactly what all this property, stuff, and management entailed, what did Alphonse do to earn all of this? Surely, he didn’t get all this from the other side, almost everything she’d seen so far had been from humans, but then how come she hadn’t heard much about Alphonse if he appeared to hold this much power?

  Auralee soon became lost in her thoughts as she pieced together what she could, only to be interrupted by a low purr and bright head lights flashing at her, a figure leaned out of the car and waved.

  Booker’s voice called out to her, “No just take your time looking at the tree’s Princess, my plan isn’t time sensitive or anything.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Auralee looked around the car's interior surprised in how plush it was in comparison to the first one.

  If it even was comparable to the Green Mustang’s interior.

  Everything seemed smooth to a fault; the Princess was nuzzled into her blue and black leather seat. Booker was steering with his left arm as his right hand twisted a knob in-between the two. His efforts caused sounds to start pouring out of the walls, soft tones and inhuman voices danced in the air.

  “So,” Booker broke their silence after fiddling with his mechanism some more, lowering the music volume, “I bet you have some questions, ‘Why are you so ruggedly handsome and good at this,' or maybe, ‘What expertly crafted plan is it this time?’” He looked over at Auralee with a cocky grin.

  “You plan on encountering Delvar and Mordecai at some spot you’re familiar with, likely some seedy tavern your type like to hang out at,” Auralee answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Booker's grin shrunk away, “I thought it was a brilliant plan,” he admitted, slightly disappointed.

  “Why else would you wonder if those two were still here,” Auralee responded.

  Booker kept his eyes on the road, watching the white lines zip by under his headlights, “And, it’s a diner, not a seedy tavern.”

  “Either way,” Auralee ran a hand through her hair, “I don’t see how you expect this plan to work. You expect the two criminals to be at this place at this moment, highly unlikely.”

  “Don’t worry about the small things,” Booker told her, switching lanes and passing up cars as he pleased.

  “That doesn’t seem like a small thing to me,” Auralee turned, reading Booker's profile.

  “If I’m stuck in an area I don’t know, I look for the familiar things, generally a McDonalds, perhaps a Carl’s Jr. If I’m in the right part of town,” He explained, “Sure the two are stuck on the wrong side of the fence, but most anyone I’ve met on a job has known of Kitches.”

  Booker smiled as he recalled a memory, while passing up a bright yellow Jeep. “I even had a job where someone wanted me to de
liver Kitches, I mean this guy offered me a price so good I questioned whether I should jump behind the counter and get cooking.” He chuckled to himself, “Guy wanted his chicken fried steak I guess.”

  She nodded at his sentiment but still pursued her questioning, “Alright, but the moral is…?”

  “They’ll be there,” He reassured Auralee, “If not.” Booker thought a moment and shook his head,”Nah they’ll be there, what else do they have to do?”

  The speedometer needle began to drop as Booker closed in on his destination, questioning himself on how big of a splash he should make when pulling up to the place.

  Maybe if he roared his engine they’d know he’s driving a Rolls, but then there goes any chance of surprise. And people don’t tend to like the people who cause a loud noise during their dinner times

  .

  Booker cracked open his door once he pulled up to a sufficient parking spot far enough away from where most everyone else would park.

  “Why are we parking way out here, when we were parked much closer in the other car?” Auralee questioned.

  “You see those cars?” He pointed out the trio in front of the diner’s entrance.

  Auralee stated the obvious, “Yes?”

  “This car is too nice to risk so much as a feather scuffing it,” Booker responded, listening to the soft purr of the engine for another moment, before giving it a soft prayer and shutting the car off. “Now let’s go say hi to our friends.”

  On the way to the door, Booker stopped when he realized he could make out his reflection in the glass well enough to check out his outfit. He looked twice to make sure there were no unnecessary wrinkles, and his hair was in place.

  Auralee rolled her eyes, “You’re so vain.” She was still dressed in what came down to a modernized tunic with a golden belt and leggings.

  “And I’ll look damn good doing it,” Booker retorted, pulling open the door. Allowing Auralee to slide in and look around inside the place.

  “Look what I don’t see,” Auralee feigned surprise, her hand over her mouth. “A dwarf and his tall friend.” She answered for Booker.

  Booker squinted and looked about, there were a handful of patrons, one sat at the counter with a drink in hand, and a two couples sat in booths.

  Booker shook his head, “Hmm,” he debated, “What was that one thing the elf did yesterday, it made him look like a police officer? Before he was nice enough to come into my apartment and start breaking my things.”

  “A glimmer?” Auralee clarified, “Dwarves can barely wield magic to begin with. Why would this one know enough to cast that on two people?” She questioned.

  “Humans certainly aren’t born with an innate ability to use magic either, but that didn’t stop Houdini,” Booker answered, “If I were in his shoes that’s the least I would learn, perhaps the only thing, but definitely the least.”

  A passing Waitress took note of the two and waved, “Welcome, good to see you Sterling!” The curly haired girl greeted.

  Booker smiled and waved back, “Can you un-glimmer them?” He whispered to Aura.

  She shrugged, “Yes, but it would also dispel anyone else.”

  “Well,” Booker gestured to the room, “After learning this place was actually a safe spot for your type, a lot of things have fallen into place. Do your voodoo, if you would be so kind?” He encouraged.

  Auralee rolled her eyes and muttered something, a faint glittery trail appeared to snake around the room for those that could see it. Once it moved over the two patrons sat farthest from the door, the trail stopped and what seemed like a large Irishman with a beard became Delvar, a stout Dwarf with a long brown beard and shorter kept hair. Across from him sat Mordecai, who was now revealed to a slightly taller, more muscular, oddly colored humanoid with four fingers reading the day’s news.

  “I’m sorry, what was that? Booker, you were right?” He asked her.

  Auralee jabbed him in the side with her elbow, watching Delvar look up at his compatriot, doing a double take once he realized that the troll no longer looked like your average dad.

  His chewing stopped mid-motion along with the rest of his body as his eyes darted around the two, looking for where their camouflage had gone.

  Booker stifled a chuckle and gestured for Auralee to approach them, “You go do your diplomacy and see if we can’t add them to my ever-growing ‘crew.’”

  Auralee took a step forward, “You’re what?”

  “My crew, my Couriers Crew,” Booker branded the team, “I’ll explain later, don’t kill them or else we’ll have some problems.”

  “And what will you be doing?” She asked him.

  Booker's passively rubbed at the bracelet from atop all the layers, “I uh, have some questions I kinda need to be answered, I’ll be right with you.”

  The Princess watched the two fools for a moment, starting her approach once she locked eyes with Delvar, the dwarf. His eyes went wide when he realized who was staring him down, looking back across the table and to the Princess who had covered half the distance already.

  The Princess grabbed one of the four-legged chairs from a nearby table, setting it at the edge of their booth and spinning the chair so she could lean on the back of the chair

  The Princess cleared her throat to make sure she had their attention, waiting for their greeting.

  “Uh,” The Dwarf rolled his shoulders in an attempt to set himself, “Good evening Princess, didn’t expect to see you so…soon.” Delvar looked around for his savior from earlier, where had the human gone? He spotted Booker, talking with one of the waitresses.

  To the opposite side of the diner, Delvar thought, of course he did.

  Mordecai looked up from his chicken tenders and newspaper, wanting to find out what made his friend so antsy. When he saw the Princess snag a nearby chair, twirling about to sit at the edge of the table, he figured it out.

  His wide eyes looked between the two for a moment, then decided to not get involved with that. He continued to eat his chicken strip basket the nice lady from earlier gave him.

  “Hi Dende,” Auralee greeted him, an impressive fake smile on her face.

  “Its Delvar” The dwarf corrected.

  “I know,” She informed him.

  “Okay,” Delvar's eyes glanced to and from the Princesses fierce gaze, “So what can we do for you?”

  “Well, Booker is busy talking with what I can only assume is one of his copious connections,” Auralee patted the troll to let him know that she acknowledged his presence. “I think you two can answer a few questions about your trade since I doubt any of my father’s advisors would tell me about if I were to ask when I get back.”

  Delvar nodded, information, I can work with that, he thought. “What did ya’ have in mind?” He asked.

  Auralee looked between the two, “Let’s start with you two, what are your jobs?”

  “Freelancers,” Delvar answered with a grin, “Jack of all trades, master of none, but often better than a master of one,” he finished with a wink.

  “What made you so confident that you would be able to defeat Booker in a chase?” Auralee inquired.

  “Well,” Delvar rubbed at his chin. “Neither of us knew he was a Runner first off.”

  “You just accepted a random hit without even considering what the target was,” Auralee sounded astonished.