by Rose, Rhea
“Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum. Hey, kid!”
Bobby was a thin kid who looked a couple years younger than his age. As a result everyone treated him like a real little kid which he didn’t like at all. I know this because he’s one of the street urchins that run around my neighborhood, and I’ve taken the time to get to know those boys. Devon, drunk as he was, dressed as his usual bum self, tried to pretend there was nothing unusual, but Bobby saw right through that disguise.
“You look like stranger danger. You’re a demon aren’t ya?” the kid asked.
Devon was not bothered by the fact that he’d been called out by a ten year old boy. He was so drunk on Joseph Seer’s wine that he continued to sing his pirate song.”Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest. Then he paused and took a moment to give the boy a good long stare. He then changed the tune of his song. “The Hiiilllls Have Eeeeyess,” he sang, to the tune of The Sound of Music.
Bobby screwed his face up at Devon and put his fingers in his ears, hoping Devon would stop or go away, or at least get out of his way so he could continue skateboarding. But Devon wasn’t done.
“You seen an old fool called Joe?” Devon asked, sounding only slightly slurred.
“You smell funny,” Bobby said.
“Ha, ha, I smell with my nose. What do you smell with?” he asked rubbing his nose with his dirty finger. “Hey, who’s the other kid with you?”
Bobby looked around, but he was alone.
“You're drunk. Demon! You better be careful or you’ll be caught.”
Devon squinted at the cheeky boy who dared to call him on his condition. Devon was seeing double and he was looking at the wrong Bobby. Devon directed his line of sight to the imaginary Bobby and the real Bobby didn’t understand why the man kept speaking to his shoulder.
“Joseph? Joe?” Devon said. The double image of Bobby pointed to a wine and spirit shop. Devon still had enough of his wits about him to read the shop sign: Water to Wine Spirits. “Joseph’s there?” Bobby squinted up at Devon.
“Can I have my skateboard back?”
Devon took his foot off the board.
Bobby skateboarded away down the street. Devon waved good-bye and stumbled his way toward the wine shop, sipping from the nearly empty wine bottle as he went.
He entered the shop and took a deep swig of nothing and when he figured out he’d emptied the vessel, he then banged it on the shop counter along with his fist. “Service! Service!”
Steve Davis, the proprietor, who was about thirty years old and looked a little like a Greek god because he had a head full of curly black hair and deep, dark eyes, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved that morning, wore a wine stained butcher’s apron. There was something boyish and innocent about the man, almost naive. He came out to the front of the shop quite cautiously when he heard Devon making such a ruckus.
“You Joseph?” Devon asked, by now he was rocking back and forth, unable to stand still.
Steve took a beat to assess the situation then asked, “Who wants to know?”
Devon opened his arms wide like he wanted to give Steve the biggest hug the man ever had, but instead Devon did a three-sixty spin.
“Only me. More of this!” He held up the empty wine bottle.
Steve, understandably surprised, used caution in his approach. He indicated that Devon should put the wine bottle down on the counter. Devon did and Steve scrutinized the label. He handed the bottle back to Devon, who somehow fumbled the transition causing the bottle to nearly fall from his fingers, saved only by the counter top where it made a terrible bang! Steve, who looked like he didn’t believe his eyes, caught the bottle and kept it from wobbling its way down to the tiled floor.
The bottle was now full of wine.
“Easy does it, buddy,” Steve said.
I doubt Devon even heard him. The look of delighted surprise on the half-demon’s face would have made the angels laugh. He grabbed the vessel, pulled the cork and was about to guzzle when the old fool, Joe Seer shuffled on in through the door. Not looking too worse for wear. He seemed to know exactly what was going on. “Give her here -- you drunken fool of a demon.”
But Devon quickly took a big swig of the wine. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Fool. You think I’m giving this up?
Meantime, Steve was sizing up Joseph giving him a long once-over, wondering, no doubt, who or what he was dealing with.
“Fool?” Steve said. That word caught everyone’s attention, but not for long because Devon fell to the floor unconscious, but miraculously held up the wine bottle up so it didn’t spill a drop.
“Whoa, there, Mr. Bum,” Steve said, to the unconscious Devon. He came out from behind the counter and tried to pry the wine bottle from Devon’s fingers, but old Joe Seer danced over and grabbed the bottle before Steve could lay a finger on it.
“Heh, heh, heh…” Joseph heckled in a low whisper, like he’d figured out something the others hadn’t. Steve thought he was done with these two, I’m sure, but the report claims that Joe Seer uncorked the wine bottle right then and there and guzzled back its entire contents, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and banged the bottle on the counter. The bottle was once again full.
Steve winced and looked from one drunk to the other.
Old Mr. Seer gave the young Steve a gap-toothed grin. Then he tucked the emptied bottle under his arm. The bottle twinkled revealing to aware on lookers that it was another magical item from the cursed tarot deck. Seer made like he was pulling a train whistle string. “Toot, toot,” He said and hustled out the front door, but Steve stopped him and pointed to the unconscious Devon. “Take your buddy, or I'll tell him where you went after he wakes up.” Old Joe did an about face.
“Good night, sweet prince,” Joseph said to Devon. He secured his wine then grabbed Devon by the feet and dragged him from the shop.
Chapter 6
A Hierophant and Razzle Dazzle
I dazzled on the pole, even if I do say so myself. My magical costume worked like a charm, well, I guess, it was charmed. Just in the nick of time, Emi had managed to get the costume repaired. My routine was so good I drew a small crowd from among the staff including: two waitresses named Debbie and Gail and the bar tender, Al, who watched while he made drinks but looked unimpressed. Two old guys at the bar made my day when at the end of my routine they clapped and cheered long after I’d finished, then Al slipped me a free drink.
I pulled on my dressing gown and headed back to the change room.
When I got to the back of the pub, Emi was there waiting. She gave me a big clap, clap, clap. I had to smile to myself. I was pretty darn good. “Thanks for getting this thing fixed,” I said. She put her hands together in a prayer position and did a little bow. Together we headed for the change room and Emilia continued to remark on how well the skimpy little bits of string I’d worn had worked for me.
“Wow! That costume, wow, it worked!” Emilia said. She had her sword out and danced around it like it was the pole I’d been on. “Not to mention that rocking bod you got girl!”
“Thanks again. I think. That really is a great work out, dancing on the pole.”
Together Emilia and I reached for the lock on the change room door. It was an awkward moment as our hands touched, but I did get there first. We pushed into the change room together, and I gave her a look.
She didn’t need to change, so why was she even coming into the room with me? She wasn’t getting my drift, but I figured I owed her one for getting me the magical costume. At some point I needed to have a talk with the girl, a little heart to heart about whom I could and couldn’t love – I couldn’t get turned on about death. But now was not the time to be the bearer of bad love news. I wished she’d just take off, so I tried to think of something for her to do. “Any ideas on how to get Vince back to the Curio gift shop?”
“Nope.”
I sighed.
*
The cramped change room didn’t seem to matter to Emilia; she followed me in
like a lost puppy. In one corner an ancient and dilapidated chair filled the small space. Emilia sat there, but she had to adjust her sword because it hit the slanted ceiling every time she turned. A few old pieces of clothing hung from metal hangers, which in turn hung from nails in the walls. An old, distressed Victorian vanity with a mirror had quite a few old jars of stage makeup pushed up against one wall.
I sat at the vanity and changed.
I loosened my dressing gown and out of the corner of my eye I saw my reflection, and I looked pretty darn good. I saw Emi’s reflection, and I smiled at her. She waved. “By the way,” I said, “Vince has got Sia.” Before she could respond, we were interrupted by a loud rattle in the door. Someone was trying to get in! I looked at Emi and put a finger to my lips for her to be quiet. We listened as the familiar key rattle took place outside the change room door. Then we heard a key fitted into the door. I motioned to Emi to go hide against the wall. She’d be hidden when the door swung open. She stepped over to the wall behind the door and slouched in order to fit. She pulled out her sword. Slowly, the door to the tiny change room creaked open. Even though I knew who was going to be standing there, I still gasped in surprise when I saw him. Mr. Whitman entered the room, his large ring of keys in his hand. I took a quick peek at Emi and she was ready to lunge at the man.
I shook my head no. I wanted her to stay put.
I had already removed my dressing gown and my tiny dance outfit, so I stood nearly naked before Whitman. I remembered a small towel hanging over the back of the chair. I grabbed it, but it was a small towel. I let it hang strategically in front of me, hoping it covered all the necessary areas.
Whitman looked me up and down and then down and up. “You cannot accept a job here. I'll have to fire you if you do.”
“Fire yourself.” What a double standard! And he had the nerve to look aghast. “I saw you here this afternoon, trying to get a little from one of the dancers.”
“That was my daughter.”
His daughter, omg. I never thought of that.
“Right. Sure,” I said.
“I was trying to convince her to leave.”
Well, who knew if he was telling the truth? I decided to change tactics. “What's with the keys?” I pointed to the ring of keys in his hand. Oh, how I wanted to get hold of those keys!
He held up the beautiful key ring, and it sparkled full of golden, silver and brass keys, some skeleton keys, and a few others were less ornate. They bedazzled me, and I found myself wanting to touch them. I moved toward the ring. Then I saw Emi's eyes, wide, shaking her head at me not to touch.
I stopped myself, but just barely.
“I have one to every place in town,” Whitman informed me. “You know who I am, but you don't know what I do. I consider myself a caretaker of the town’s morality. I go anywhere anytime and to make sure people change their immoral ways.”
“Mr. Whitman, how moral is it to let yourself into the women’s change room? You need to be invited into a person's space.” I took a backward step and felt around behind me for the dressing gown.
“Maybe so,” He said, lamely.
“Do you have a key for Maisie's gift shop on there?”
“That whore, oh, yes.”
Wow! How dare he call her that! I wanted to slap him, but I also wanted to get him to Maisie’s shop, so I could return this sucker to the deck. “Did you know Maisie practices magic in the back of her shop? You should pay her a visit. Get her to stop.” Before I observed his reaction, Vince Cabria walked in on us. He surprised me and I got confused. I turned to grab the silky dressing gown that had flowed to the floor and lay like a small puddle, but that turn to retrieve it, made my towel shift.
Then Emi leapt out from behind the door and sliced away the side of Vince’s jacket. It fell to the floor like a dead bird. . I screamed because I’d remembered seeing Sia in that pocket.
Whitman, without missing a beat, picked up a corner of my shifting towel and wrapped it around me. Then he pulled out one of his keys and touched it to the wall behind us and created a portal. He hung onto me and we gently pushed me through the vortex.
*
All I remember is a soft splash of light when we arrived on the other side of the portal; I clung to Whitman like a monkey.
*
When I finally gathered my wits, I realized where we were, at Maisie’s shop.
I wasted no time and ran over to the counter where the tarot deck sat and pulled the box open. I dumped out the cards and madly shuffled through them until I found the one I wanted. William told me that Whitman was probably the Hierophant.
While I was doing that Whitman took a little stroll around the shop looking down his nose at everything. “Quaint,” was all he said.
I ran back over to Whitman and pressed the Hierophant card to him, but nothing happened. I stood stunned that the card had not worked on him. I was positive that William told me Whitman was the hierophant! Whitman looked at me with soulless eyes. He smirked at my measly attempt to place him back in the deck, his expression full of disdain, his arrogance radiated like a bad aura.
I tapped him once more with the card. “Come on!”
He swatted me away.
“Where’s the real witch?” he said, his voice full of contempt.
The chime on the front door sounded and Devon rolled into the shop -- sitting on a skateboard, the bottle of wine held between his knees. “Yo ho ho and a bottle of wine. Gimme a kiss an I’ll make yer mine.” Bobby Bentley, the kid that owned the board, stood behind and pushed Devon along.
“Well, if it isn't the Town Musicians of Meadowvale,” I said while I tried to secure my towel.
Devon, drunk, singing, sitting on the skateboard saluted me as he rolled up.
“Nish towel, Jane. That guy at the window ish the Fool!” He pointed. I looked over to the front window to see old Joe Seer press his face to the glass. When Joe saw Devon sitting with the bottle between his legs, he banged on the window and pointed to it then he pointed to himself.
“You're the fool,” I said to Devon.
“No, no, really. He'sh from the deck. But if you don’t believe me then believe this – I love you so much Janey.”
Whitman chimed in. “Is Maisie back here?” He stepped into the back of the shop. I had the feeling he wanted to get away from the drunken Devon, fast. I continued to fumble through the card deck, trying to locate the fool card. It didn’t take long for Devon to finally slump over his bottle and nearly fall off the skateboard.
“Take me to Maishie's,” he said through his arm pit. “Make me to Taishie’s”
“You're at Maisie's,” I said distractedly. I had to find that card! “Fool. Where are you?”
I was concentrating so hard on the cards that I failed to notice Joseph Seer sneak into the shop.
Next Emilia strolled in to the Curio right behind the sneaky Joseph. Suddenly Maisie’s place was grand central station. I guess she figured out this was where the portal had taken me and Whitman. In fact, if Emi hadn’t come in Joseph might have grabbed his wine bottle unnoticed and escaped. Emi proudly held up a golden key. It sparkled in a beam of sunlight. “From Vince’s shorn pocket,” she said. Emilia stood between Joe and the front door. She had unwittingly cut him off from his escape. When old Joe realized he was trapped, his eyes got really big.
I found the deck’s Fool card. I called over to Emilia. “Another one bites the dust,” I said. I touched Joe with the card and poof, he was gone.
At least I got one of them!
How many majors did I have now, three out of twenty-two? I’d have to live several lift times at this rate of recovery. William told me the faster way to return the majors to the deck was to get hold of their keys, which Whitman kept near and dear to his heart.
If Whitman granted a major card character his or her key then they had complete control of their personal freedom, never to be returned to the deck unless they lost that key. Whitman had given Cabria a key, and I wondered whose it w
as, Cabria’s or Whitman’s?
I sure hoped it was the latter.
I snatched Devon’s bottle of wine and lifted the key still dangling from Emilia’s fingers. “I’ve got a date tonight. I’ll take these.”
“Hey!” Emi protested.
She wanted her key back and pointed to it. “I earned that.”
I held up the key. I pointed to my towel still wrapped around me and gave her a look. “Who earned this?”
“If weren't for me –
“I wouldn't be drunk!” Devon said.
We gawked at Devon who finally fell off the board and staggered to his feet. Bobby flipped the board into the air with a single toe kick, caught it mid air, tucked it under his arm and left.
From the tarot room came the very familiar intruding sound of keys rattling – Whitman, we’d forgotten him. Emilia, Devon and I cautiously stepped to the back area of the shop Whitman had created another portal in the bathroom and slipped through it, making a quick escape. I rushed the bathroom and ran my hand along the wall under the window to make sure there was no trick door there; after all I’d had lots of odd experiences with that room. “He’s gone. He’s immune to his card.” At least the kimono still hung from the hook. I finally had something to cover up with. Emilia was looking at me, a poor you kind of look.
“Do you think he’ll fire you?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. I think so.
And then, right on cue, Maisie walked in.
Emi and I turned in surprise to see her practically appear out of thin air. We didn’t hear the chimes on the front door.
“I've already got you another job. Forget the Wild Swan. If you get fired from the academy, you can forget about teaching, too. I've taken care of Vince, and Whitman’s under my control,” Maisie said.
“What now?” I asked, amused by Maisie’s ability to get these nutty jobs.
“A trainee at the bank--”
I put my hand out to stop her from saying anymore.
“No! I like my job.”
Emilia gave us her evil, funny grin. “Which job, Jane?”
