by W H Lock
"Yeah," Rube said, not able to stop staring at the vintage porcelain doll. "Why does that one look like a porcelain doll though?
"What is this on the skull, Karen," Quinn asked.
"A lovely little piece of work," she said. "I'm sure you can guess the provenance but what is important here is the effect. Only a normal human can touch it."
"What?"
"Yeah, our target has a nifty little piece on it. Only someone who's a normal human or our host I presume can safely move that skull. I haven't been able to see what happens if it's anyone else, but it's something infernal, and that's never good."
"Great. I had to swear an oath not steal something, and now we have to get a regular human to actually touch it."
Everyone turned and looked at Rube.
"What?"
"No," Quinn said. "The mark has already seen him as a plumber."
"If you hadn't sworn that ridiculous oath," Oscar said as he came back in the room. "We could just pose as a bunch of plumbers there to dig up his sewer line. Get him out of the house, and have Rube lift it. But no. You had to swear that oath and cover everyone."
Quinn turned and stared at Oscar. After too long of a moment he said, "I have it. I've got this, okay? I'm the one who can pull this off."
"Oh, yeah, real crown prince of crime, huh? What's your plan, your majesty?"
Quinn sucked his teeth in anger for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. He pointed at Fred and said, "I need a small store. Nothing more than a few hundred feet at most. I need a blue Crown Victora. Karen, Eno, I need you to get some low-level enchanted artifacts. Nothing fancy. Low-level shit. I've got a few things we can use. Keep it nice looking and vintage. Nothing recent."
Quinn paced back from the table and did a quick high step, paused and shrugged his shoulders. He cocked one heel up and snapped his fingers. The Circle sprang into existence with a guitar riff that quivered in the air. An Elvis song played. Quinn pointed at Oscar in the same way Elvis pointed at a crowd.
"Oscar, baby, I need you to look like you work in a bank," Quinn said in a passable imitation of the King of Rock.
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
In response, Quinn stood on the tips of his toes and raised a hand in the air. He snapped his fingers again, and the room went dark. A circle of light appeared around Quinn as if he were on a stage and a gaffer had turned on the spotlight. He said, "Because, baby, uh huh, we're going to rob a bank. Yeah!"
In time to the song, Quinn sneered at everyone and danced moved like the King. Quinn finished with a spin and pointed at the laptop screen.
"And we're going to make him do it, oh yeah!"
Chapter Twenty-One
The real estate agent came back into the small center room of the storefront. Quinn, Oscar, Freddy, and Rube follow her into the room. She turned in the center and waited for the men to wander around a bit more. Normally she didn't work on the weekends, she didn't have to anymore, but when she'd met with the client last night, she'd naturally felt it a great idea to work on a Saturday.
"As you can see, it's a nice little store. The built-in bookshelves out here make a very nice display space that doesn't look too crass," the agent said. As she spoke, she gestured to the dark shelving that lined the walls of the small retail space.
"I like it," Quinn said.
Oscar nodded. He looked at Freddy and nodded. Freddy looked back at Quinn who nodded as well. Rube nodded even though no one looked at him. Freddy grinned and pulled down his aviator sunglasses.
His eyes sparkled as he said, "We'll take it. Do you mind if we pay three months in advance? In cash, of course."
The real estate agent cocked her head to the side, and her mouth dropped open. Her face stayed slightly slack. "Yes," she said. "I can put together a contract. We normally ask for the first and last month, but we can handle three months in advance on a year contract."
"How do you feel about just the three-month contract?" Freddy said as he stepped in close and threw his arm over her shoulders. He guided her to the front door.
"I think we can do that...," she said, doubt creeping into her voice.
"I bet you'd be honored. Now, how about I pay you now, and you don't come back?"
She nodded.
"Oh, and we were the best clients you ever had."
"You guys are great!" Her face lit up with enthusiasm.
"And that one guy with the curly hair? You really are interested in him. He's pretty cute. You really like his jacket too because Corvettes are cool."
"Freddy!" Quinn shouted as the curly haired vampire led the woman out of the store.
Without missing a beat, Freddy said, "And you'll won't see him again. And you won't come back here. Because we were such nice tenets."
"You guys have been amazing," the real estate agent said as she packed up her paperwork and the packet of cash Freddy had given her. She kept smiling as she waved goodbye and walked out the door.
"Nice, Fred," Quinn said.
Freddy shrugged without a trace of shame.
"Okay. I want Karen down here ASAP. I want this place off the map. I want it locked down tight. I want it so only the magical will notice it from the street. All the norms walk by without a second glance." Quinn paused for a moment and then said, "Except for Rube. We'll need something for Rube."
Oscar nodded and pulled his phone out to take notes.
"We'll need to pad the place out. I want it to look like old world shabby. So, expensive, nice furniture that is clearly used. Like we wanted to be high end, really didn't have the budget for it, and so we shopped a lot of second change, well, third change, really. Rube, you, Freddy and Eno. I need some comfy chairs. Leather preferred but nice fabric if you can't. Some crap to put on the walls. Probably some nice European landscapes with some ancient ruins in them. I'll put the artifacts on the shelves. This place needs to go in the next two or three days. Three days! Let's get it done!" Quinn clapped his hands.
Oscar closed his phone and nodded at Fred and Rube.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rupert had been working in the restaurants of LA since he'd been a teen. In those ten years, he'd seen a few things that were a bit off. He'd seen old men with too much money come in with women who were clearly prostitutes but had insisted on calling daughters. He'd seen people pay to watch others eat food. He'd also been offered stupid amounts of money to move people up on the waiting list. But he had never been offered money to make sure someone didn't get a table.
But a few hours ago a man with startlingly blue eyes and boy-band good looks had approached him with the odd proposition.
"I want you to make sure that a specific person doesn't get a seat. He's got a reservation for 7 PM, but I want you to make sure he doesn't get a seated quickly," the man had said.
Before Rupert could say yes or no, the man had slid a few hundred dollar bills into Rupert's suit pocket.
"Don't worry, he'll make a scene, but nothing will happen, okay?"
Rupert nodded. He wanted to say no, but the thought of making a few hundred dollars extra tonight for doing the job he was already doing made it really hard to say no.
"His name is Oscar. He'll be dressed like some asshole from Wall Street. You won't miss him," the fellow with the blue eyes said with a wink.
Rupert said yes.
The night had started just like normal with a line of people hoping to take advantage of a forgotten reservation when he opened the doors for the evening. This was his favorite part of being the host at one of Los Angeles most in-demand restaurant. He loved being able to decide who got to have one of the most exclusive experiences in the City of Angels and who had to sit out in the weather and give up hope.
Maude's served a ten-course seasonal meal with no menu choices. The chef spent months putting together the perfect blend of seasonal foods. People would come to the restaurant not knowing what they were in store for but that it would be excellent.
"Yeah, I got a reservation for Oscar," a voice said.
<
br /> Rupert looked up in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone come up and the suddenness of the voice startled him.
A man with a sprayed on tan, his hair slicked back with a sheen of hair oil, and an ultra-black suit stood in front of Rupert. Once the man removed his sunglasses, Rupert was surprised by the man’s green eyes. They were a deep green. Rupert was reminded of the felt of his father’s pool table.
"Can I help you?" Rupert asked after clearing his throat.
"What? You need to dig the dirt out of your ears, pal," the man said with a very stereotypical east coast accent. "I got a reservation for this fancy place, although, if you ask me it couldn't compete with a good deli back home, you know what I mean?"
Rupert made a show of scanning down the list, even though he knew exactly where the name was. He cleared his throat and looked at the fellow out of the corner of his eyes. "Yes, I see you're here, sir. It shouldn't be too long, if you would have a seat, we'll call when your table is ready."
"Whatever, pal," the man said. He turned and gave a nearby woman an obvious once-over. He sniffed and adjusted his crotch. He leered at the woman. "Hey, sweetheart, you in the movies or something?" He laughed raucously when she turned her back on him. He looked at her companion and said, “This guy knows what I’m talking about!”
Rupert was relieved when the fellow went outside to wait. This would be the easiest money he'd ever made. Outside, the man called Oscar pulled out a pack of cigarettes and his phone. He immediately lit a cigarette and started talking on the phone. To Rupert, it looked like he took more pleasure from blowing smoke at others than from actually smoking the cigarette.
It wasn't more than thirty minutes before a familiar gray and silver vintage Rolls Royce limousine pulled up to the front corner of the restaurant. Rupert knew this car by heart. It was one of his better customers. Rupert hurried to the door.
"Good evening, Mr. Norbridge," Rupert said as he held open the door.
The older man nodded as he strolled in. As was usual, Mr. Norbridge was wearing a tuxedo and carried with him the lacquer black cane with silver tips. His collar was the very old-fashioned sort with a stiff neck and tips that jutted straight out above the properly tied and dimpled tie.
"Good evening, Rupert. I hope today has found you well?"
The melodious baritone in combination with the rather posh English accent always sent shivers down Rupert's back. The elegant gray at the gentleman's temples put Oswyn Norbridge right in the middle of everything Rupert looked for in a man. It didn’t hurt that Rupert could get lost in the deep earth brown of Oswyn Norbridge’s eyes.
And then it was all ruined by Oscar.
As soon as Oscar walked into the crowded restaurant, space was created around him. Everyone turned their backs and suddenly had to look into their phones. It was as if his sheer obnoxiousness pushed people away on a physical level. Rupert had trouble suppressing his sneer as the man came up behind Oswyn Norbridge.
"I'm telling you this guy doesn't know what he has, Tony," Oscar said into his phone as he pushed his way into the restaurant behind Oswyn Norbridge. "He's got a legit Mayan sacrificial onyx knife along with a matching bowl, and he wants peanuts for it! Peanuts! I swear to God, it still has the blood on it. Swear to God. Hang on, I gotta ask about my table," Oscar said into his phone.
Oscar moved his phone away from his mouth and said, "Hey, Pal, why is this guy getting the special treatment? I've been cooling my heels outside for like an hour now! I should get the next seat, not this fella. Not for nothing, pal, but I was here first."
Rupert glared at the rude man from out east and said in a frosty voice, "Mr. Norbridge made his reservation for tonight several months ago. So, he has been 'cooling his heels' for months." Rupert turned to his favorite customer. "I am sorry you had to hear this, Mr. Norbridge. Your table will be available momentarily."
"Whatever, pal," Oscar said. He turned his attention back to his phone. "Tony? Tony? You still there? Anyway, like I said. This guy had Aztec or Mayan, or I don't know what kind shit, but this was vintage real stuff. I swear it still has the blood on it kind of stuff. I say we clean him out, and we can triple our money. Yeah, he's got some little shop on 5th and Vine. It's set up so people won't notice if you follow me. It's like these California hicks don't know the price of something, you know?" Oscar said as he pushed his way back out of the restaurant.
Rupert was so relieved when Oscar went outside without more yelling that he missed how Oswyn Norbridge watched and listened as the younger man stepped outside.
“Again, I am so sorry you had to deal with this, sir,” Rupert said, turning back to his favorite customer.
"No worries, dear fellow," Oswyn said reassuringly. "These things happen. I'm sure the meal will more than make up for the intrusion and see me through tonight's opening. I am looking forward to how they handle Valentin's aria. Have you had a chance to see Faust as it was meant to be experienced?"
They chatted about Faust as Rupert ushered Oswyn back to his usual table. When he returned, Rupert saw that Oscar had disappeared. With a deep sigh, Rupert patted the folded money in his pocket. The easiest money he'd ever made indeed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Quinn took his phone out when he felt it ding. He opened it to find a message from Eno. Eno said that Oswyn the Great And Powerful had circled the block around the store once already.
"You know," Rube said. "I been meaning to ask y'all something." Rube wasn't dressed in his normal service station employee outfit. Today he was dressed like a man at his last ends. His suit was ill-fitting, the tie was loosened with the collar unbuttoned. His hair had been cut and was smoothed out along his head. He looks as little as a plumber as Rube could get.
"Shoot," Quinn said.
"If all y'all are like magicians and all--"
"I'm a sorcerer, actually," Quinn said offhandedly as he typed out a response to Eno.
"Sure. And all that. But why if Y’all are magical and shit, why do y'all use cell phones and not like some magic mirrors or something?"
"Because magic mirrors are expensive! They aren't cheap to make or maintain. And you have to bridge a connection every single time you want to talk to someone. And that's if they even have a mirror set up. If they don't, you have to hope they're near a reflective surface of some kind and the cost on that is astronomical." Quinn looked up from typing on his phone and shook her head. "Fuck all that nonsense when I can pay $80 a month for unlimited messaging. So much easier."
"I suppose that makes a lot of sense and all," Rube said.
"Is that disappointing?"
"I little, I guess."
"Life's like that, buddy. Hey, he's coming. Time to go. Remember, just like we practiced," Quinn said. Quinn pulled out a small black box from under the counter. He also pulled out a stack of bills and started counting slowly.
As the door chime dinged, Quinn said, "and that should do it. Pleasure doing business with you, sir. Please let me know if you need to sell anything of this...," Quinn rested his hand on the black box before continuing, "if you need to sell anything of this sort again."
Rube didn't look Quinn in the eye. He mumbled something, shoved the money into his pocket, kept his head down and walked out of the shop.
Oswyn Norbridge adroitly stepped out of the way without looking as Rube left, avoiding any physical or eye contact.
"I say," Oswyn said as he gestured to the small shop. "What a lovely shop you have here, my good fellow!" His warm baritone at once communicated a genuine friendliness and enthusiasm and at the same time implied that it would be a shame to see it all end so suddenly with an all-consuming fire. Oswyn gestured with the tip of his cane at the small room lined with bookshelves that had been expertly filled with ancient looking books, cups, and the occasional dagger.
Quinn looked a little confused as if he wasn't quite sure what was going on, and then he said, "Thank you. We've only been open a short time. We have a rather exclusive clientele, and we're only available by appoin
tment. Our appointments are only available by referral. Perhaps I can refer you to one of our existing customers?" Quinn reached down below his desk as if he were reaching for an old-fashioned Rolodex. "To see if you're the sort of client we can do business with--"
Quinn slammed up against the wall, the air driven out of his lungs in a massive whoosh. He found himself several feet in the air and pushed against the wall. Quinn hadn't seen Oswyn move or gesture in any way. Quinn didn't bother to try and hide his fear.
"My dear boy," Oswyn said in that same tone of a jovial threat. "I can assure you that I am exactly the sort of clientele. There is no one in this city that is not indebted to me in some manner. I imagine if one were to ask, that anyone in this fair city would cheerfully recommend my patronage."
Quinn felt as if a giant fist was closing around his body, slowly squeezing the air out of him. He cried out in pain as his body crushed in on itself. He could feel his joints trying to slide and move to take the pressure that was being exerted on him. Quinn fell to the ground when the force holding him to the wall vanished. He fell to his knees and made a show of gasping for air. He pulled himself up to the counter, leaning on it hard.
"Look, pal, I don't, I didn't mean to, look, I just came out here to make some money, okay? I didn't mean to offend--" Quinn was lifted to a standing position by his throat. Again, he hadn't seen Oswyn gesture or use a summoning in any way.
"But you have offended, dear boy. And I am afraid that things are not looking good for you at all," Oswyn said with a predatory smile. "In fact, one could say, things are quite dire."
"I'm sorry," Quinn croaked out. "What can I help you with? I can get you just about anything you could want."
"See? A little politeness and civility never hurts," Oswyn said. He swept the tip of his black cane around the room. "Now, tell me about our charming little storefront."
Quinn slumped in a display of defeat.
