ic I've Got A Golden Ticket

[Heritage]

Silberman's Books. Monday, April 25th, 2016. 9:56 am.

 

Back in January, Lynn Epstein offered Samuel Steiner, a stage magician, ex-convict and would-be crimefighter, what amounted to his 'dream job': the opportunity to catalogue and itemize the collection of his hero Ira Silberman, formerly known as the Amazing Al-Kazar. To say that he couldn't wait to start his first day would be the understatement of the century.

 

Yet wait he did; in February, the departure of her long-suffering assistant manager Kiki Knox came as a shock, and Lynn sent him an apologetic letter explaining that she wanted to bring her new AM up to speed and get everyone settled into a new routine before adding any additional staff. That the letter contained a check for eight hundred dollars did something to soften the blow. Then March came, and another apologetic letter arrived, with the same-sized check and a promise of work in April. Now April was almost over, and Sam feared his amazing opportunity had gone up in smoke, but then a third letter arrived on Friday, as apologetic as before, but now letting him know that he would finally be able to start that Monday, bright and early at 10 am. And yay, another check!

 

- - -

 

"Does he get an apron?"

 

Lynn briefly looked up from her desk, where she was typing up a last minute email; her assistant manager and now partner in all things Gretchen McDaniels was limply holding up a brown standard-issue Silberman's apron, a bored expression on her face.

 

"No, he does not get an apron; he will be an apron-less freak."

 

"If I have wear one, he should, too. We should all be equal partners in discomfort and embarrassment."

 

"Technically, he's not an employee of the store; he's an independent contractor. Plus he'd look really stupid with that thing over his coat and tails, doncha think?"

 

Gretch looked over her shoulder back towards the sales floor and shook her head. "You really think he wears that all the time?"

 

"Yep! Sleeps in it, showers in it, makes sweet, sweet love in it..."

 

"Eww. Thanks for that disturbing visual."

 

Lynn beamed cheerfully. "You're welcome! Now go ahead and open up while I finish typing this."

 

"Yes, O master." Hunching forward and dragging her foot, Gretch lurched towards the front door like a hunchbacked assistant; behind the bar, Lance Bettendorfer, barista extraordinaire, cocked an eyebrow at her performance.

 

"Everything alright there, Gretch?"

 

"Breaking in some new boots," she deadpaned. Once she got to the door, she flung it open dramatically, still in Igor mode. "Enter, at your own risk!" She almost managed an expression there.

Edited April 25, 2016 by Heritage

[Sophistemon]

Samuel Steiner approached Silberman's Books with a look of extreme, determined trepidation etched across his features. He was dressed simply this time, at least for him. He wore tan khaki slacks, brown loafers and a green polo shirt over a white tee -- all new, all purchased with the money provided by the overly-generous proprietor of the store that he then entered. The bell above the door rang sweetly as he stepped inside, heralding his arrival. He held a crisp paper bag in his left hand, inside of which he had placed his suit -- all neatly folded, of course -- just in case. He grinned as he entered, the scent of books washing away his fear, and made his way to the counter to meet the new boss. "Good morning!" he crowed, cheerful as all get out.

[Heritage]

At this point, the only person behind the counter/bar was Lance, wearing jeans, a black William Shakespeare T-shirt, and a dark purple bandana, in addition to his brown apron, of course. But Lance's own brand of sunny optimism was a good match for Sam's demeanor this morning, and his grin was a wonder to behold.

 

"Hey there, Mr. Steiner! Good morning!" He indicated the manager's office with a nod. "Boss Lady's back there." Then he gestured towards the espresso machine. "Can I get you anything? Some shots or a capp or just a cuppa joe?" The wonderful smell of freshly-brewed coffee was indeed tantalizing.

 

Gretchen came up behind him, arms folded across her chest; today she was dressed not so differently than Lance, though her black T bore a picture of Freddie Mercury and it was under a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing her musical arm tats. Also, no bandana; Gretch did not do bandanas. She smirked her usual smirk and gave him a nod.

 

"Greetings, new guy. Your ass belongs to me today, but I'll give you chance to say hello to the boss before we crawl into the salt mines."

 

- He's here, and he's wearing khakis. You owe me five dollars. -

 

- What? I made no such bet! -

 

- Then come out here and see the magic. -

 

Lynn came out of her office, lovely as ever in jeans and simple peasant blouse; she took in Sam's new look with a nod of approval. "Hi, Sam! Look at you; the kid cleans up good!"

[Sophistemon]

"Good morning!" the magician replied, and inclined his head in a nod. "Coffee sounds great, actually. Nothing too fancy -- just a cup, some cream, and one sugar." He paused, realizing for a moment that he was -- if not happy -- content in a way that he hadn't been for a while. Sure, there weren't any adoring fans here clinging on his every word, but there were a bunch of relatively nice people who seemed genuinely interested in ignoring his past and giving him a chance at a future. That meant more to him than all the money in all of the banks that he'd robbed. Tried to rob. Failed to rob. He forced those memories from his mind and turned to greet Gretchen. "Good morning!" he said, and grinned at her. "I don't remember my ass being part of the deal, but I'm ready to work. I can't wait, actually -- I'm really excited to see what Al-Kazar had stashed away. Think of the things that we could learn... I'm practically drooling." A moment later, Lynn made her way out of the office and Sam greeted her, as well. "Good morning!" he said, a third time. "It's easy to clean up when you have money for new clothes. Ah, speaking of which..." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a slightly worn envelope, which he held out to his new employer. "I didn't cash this one. I didn't need to. I'd... like you to have it back, Lynn. You've done enough for me already, and I think I'd like to earn my pay."

Edited April 28, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Heritage]

Lynn shrugged and nodded. "Alright, fair enough; from now on, you'll be strictly on the clock." She folded the envelope in half and tucked it in her back pocket. "Okay, once you've had your coffee...oh, you get a free pastry item every shift, too, so grab a muffin or bagel or donut, whatever..." 

 

Lance stepped from behind the bar to bring Sam his coffee. "Here you go, sir; hope you like it."

 

Then the store owner had a thought and snapped her fingers. "Hey, you know what, put that in a travel mug, for safety around the books and stuff." She held out her hand, and a big, sturdy ceramic mug appeared, complete with spill-resitant lid; traced around its ebon sides in eloborate crimson script was written 'Sam's Cuppa Joe!'. The colors exactly matched his 'working clothes'.

 

Lance chuckled as he accepted the mug and poured the cup he'd prepared into it, saying "Then I guess I better top this off," as he headed back behind the counter.

 

"Okay, so now- what?" Lynn was interrupted by a withering glance from Gretchen.

 

"Mister Levinsky is sitting right over there." She indicated one of the older Jewish regulars who'd just started reading his paper at a table, waiting for Lance to bring him his first cup of the day.

 

Lynn scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, the man is eighty-seven years old; he's stone deaf and can barely see. Look how close he has to hold the paper to his face!" In truth, he really was holding the paper about an inch from his bespeckled eyes.

 

Gretchen shook her head and threw up her hands. "Fine. Share your secrets with the elderly. See if I care." With a well-practiced exasperated sigh, she headed for Lynn's office, calling out to Sam without bothering to look over her shoulder. "Come on back when you're ready!"

 

Just then Lance came back to give the new 'temp' his brand-new mug, filled to the brim with caffinated goodness. "Here you go, sir; enjoy!" Then he brought a cup to Mr. Levinsky, who smiled and called him 'Luthor'.

 

"And it's the start of another day at Silberman's Books," murmered Lynn with a wink as she followed Gretch back to her office.

Edited May 9, 2016 by Heritage

[Sophistemon]

Sam stood, the bag of clothes at his side, the container of coffee in his hand, and smiled. He just stood there, for a second or two, and smiled. After that moment had passed, he looked to Lance and said, "I grabbed something to eat on my way here, so I'm not too hungry, but I might be back for a bagel or something later, if that's okay?" Assuming that the barista responds in the affirmative, Sam's smile -- a real smile, it should be mentioned -- widened a bit. He leaned down, took up his bag, and followed the two women into the back room. He sipped the coffee as he walked, and it was delicious. When he arrived in the office he set down the bag and took another drink of his coffee. "This is really good!" he exclaimed. "I didn't have any the least time I was here -- I was missing out!" He knelt, reached into the bag, and pulled out a small cardboard dispenser of powder-free latex gloves. "I did some research online," he explained. "And I learned that using these is a good way to help prevent the books from degrading. I mean, we aren't going to be working in optimal conditions regardless, but everything that we can do to keep Al-Kazar's work as pristine as possible is worth it, don't you think?"

Edited May 10, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Heritage]

Gretchen nodded as she took a sip of her coffee, seemingly impressed. "Good call." She helped herself to a pair of gloves, paused, and then pulled out a few more and stuffed them into her back pocket for later. Then she looked over to Lynn, who was sitting at her desk savoring a sticky pile of conjured cinnamon rolls. "Aren't you going to be-" She snapped on a glove. "Suiting up?"

 

Lynn snorted around a mouthful of cinnamon delight. "F### that! Someone's gotta be out on the sales floor, workin' her sweet ass off."

 

Gretch looked crestfallen. "So then I lose out on my commission?  That's completely unfair."

 

The changeling shrugged. "No worries, I'll give all my commission to you; in fact, why don't we-" A swirl of mist, and then she was an eerie replica of the snarky barista; tats, disdainful expresion and all. "Do it this way?" She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms and sighed. "Why would you want to buy that? Stephen King is an idiot. Read Edgar Allen Poe instead."

 

The real Gretchen chuckled nervously, still unnerved by some of her partner's abilities. "Don't be me. I want to actually earn something for a change." She indicated 'Gretchen's' left hand with a nod. "You missed the Ring, by the way."

 

The fey held up her unadorned hand and sighed. "I know. Can't do metal, remember? Limits of my glamour. Suppose I could try and fake it with wood or plastic, but it wouldn't hold up under scrutiny." Lynn finally resumed her own shape, much to Gretchen's visible relief.

 

"Thank you." She indicated a bookcase behind her with a jerk of her head. "Can you get the door, please?"

 

Lynn nodded vigorously as she stuffed an entire cinnamon roll in her mouth. "Mmmm! Morry abou' tha'." 

 

Without even looking, she gestured back over her shoulder, and several books melted into vapor, revealing a metal handle and digital keypad beneath. Gretch blocked Sam's view with her body (hey, you don't learn the code on your first day!), then there were several rapid beeps followed by a dull thud as heavy bolts slid back inside the mechanism. Grasping the handle firmly, the assistant manager hauled the bookcase and the massive steel door behind it open, swinging it smoothly on well-oiled hinges, and a puff of stale dry air greeted them. Beyond, energy efficient fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, revealing several bookshelves and mysterious shapes hidden under dust cloths.

 

"Behold the Cave of Wonders. Enter if you dare." There was actually a hint of warmth in Gretchen's usual smirk; she knew exactly how much this meant to Sam.

Edited May 10, 2016 by Heritage

[Sophistemon]

The magician was practically drooling. "I dare," he said, stepping forward. "Boy oh boy, do I ever dare." He took up his bag and stepped inside, taking a deep, deep breath as he did so. The room smelled like musty old books, dry ink, and knowledge. He felt the wisdom contained within the room coalesce around him like a mist, caressing his skin and tickling at the forbidden places of his mind. "Everything is so... beautiful in here," he murmured. "We're going to start with his personal effects first, I think. Notebooks, journals, diaries and things of that nature. If we start with cataloguing everything that Al-Kazar knew about his own collection, that's half of our work done for us. God above, who knows what he knew..." Not that he wanted this to go by quickly -- far from it! Apart from the money that the work would bring in, getting to spend time among one of the more complete mystical collections on Earth was a privilege that he didn't relish the idea of losing. Then, he paused and slowly turned back towards Gretchen. "You don't like Stephen King? I read Christine every year. Not that Poe isn't good -- he is; but King's great for a relaxing, slightly-spooky read."

Edited May 10, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Heritage]

The room itself was not large, maybe ten feet across and fifteen feet deep, but what it lacked in size it more than made up for in terms of sheer volume of stuff; a quick count yielded twelves bookshelves of different makes and sizes, several of which went all the way up to ceiling. Most of the shelves were crammed full of books and ledgers, though several shelves bore jars, boxes or small chests. Those few spots on the walls not covered with books held colorful posters announcing shows at venues like the Egyptian Hall in London and the Steel Pier in Atlantic City.

 

There were also three massive wooden filling cabinets along one wall, and five great steamer trunks near the back, crusted with with a thick layer of shipping labels from around the world.

 

And in the far right corner, under the cloths, there were props, glorious props: a beautiful enameled disappearing cabinet, a rack of swords in various styles, and turned away from the visitor as if in embarrassment, the Mirror of Al-Kazar itself in its gilded frame, the arabesque scene on its back handpainted in Paris in 1923.

 

Even Gretchen stood quietly with her hands primly folded in front of her, as if in reverence; she said nothing, and just gave the magician some time to soak it all in.

Edited May 18, 2016 by Heritage

[Sophistemon]

Samuel stalled, awestruck by the sheer volume of materials that needed to be catalogued. "My God," he murmured, almost inaudibly. "This is going to take the rest of my life." His tongue snaked out a bit and wet his upper lip before a grin split his face in half. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you, both. I won't let you down, I swear." He turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. "Did he have a system? Al-Kazar, I mean? Do we know how he organized the room? I can't..." He stopped when he saw the swords and a slight chuckle escaped him before he stepped over to them like a child on their way to the Christmas tree. "My God!" he repeated, his voice cracking. "They're actually sharp! How did he..?" A hand crept up to stroke his goatee and he began to laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's like being a kid in a candy store." He coughed and composed himself before turning to Gretchen. "Where do we get started?"

[Heritage]

Lynn's assistant manager chuckled. "We pretty much figured you'd be drooling." She started to head towards the back of the room when she stopped and turned on her heel.  "Also I want to put those comments about King in context. First off, I'm actually from Maine, so I'm kind of sick of having him jammed down my throat. But mostly it's because he presents a world in which Absolute Good and Absolute Evil exist, which I don't believe is accurate, and in fact dangerous. And he seems to think that childhood is innocent." And here she actually shuddered, as if from unpleasant memories. "Children are not...innocent. Not by a long shot."

 

Gretchen continued her path to the back, stopped in front of the first of the filing cabinets, and squinted at the fade labels on the drawers. "Lynn's grandfather Louis ran this store for decades, but apparently he rarely came back here. According to the biography he left her on her twenty-second birthday, Ira did keep some sort of files in here, which Louis used for some amatuer sleuthing once in a while." She yanked open the first drawer, revealing many brittle folders and newspaper clippings sticking out this way and that; her nimble fingers danced along the tops of the files as her dark blue eyes scanned the contents. "These seem to be roughly chronological by year, starting in...1917. That's before he even began his professional career." She gingerly pulled out a yellowed clipping and held it to the light. "'Mysterious Fire In The West-End Spares Child'. And there's a blurry, low rez photo of the...charred building." Her eyes met Samuel's. "These are case files. Or at least, events that he felt were strange enough to warrant investigation." Then she took a step back to take in the sheer size of the three cabinets, and a true, genuine smile spread across her lips. "Holy s###..."

Edited May 18, 2016 by Heritage

[Sophistemon]

Samuel nodded along with Gretchen's condemnations of King's work, but he looked slightly bashful by the end of it. "Those are pretty valid points," he conceded. "But I guess that I'm guilty of liking happy endings. Most of King's novels end with his heroes winning over whatever evil stuff gets thrown their way, and I like that sort of thing. Anything else would be a grim way to end a thousand-page read. That's a pretty big investment to make, only for things to end unhappily." When she went on to describe the case files, he brightened up considerably. "So... you mean that this is Al-Kazar's history? The story of his career, written out in newspaper clippings and magazine articles? Everything that he deemed worth looking into..." His smile rivaled hers. "That's incredible. That's absolutely amazing!" He cast his eyes around. "Where are the journals and notebooks? I want to see the science behind his act and the magic behind the science. Al-Kazar was a genius and I want to know how he did it all."

[Heritage]

Gretchen snorted as she crouched down at the foot of the third cabinet. "Be careful about putting your heroes on pedestals. A genius he might have been, but according to Lynn he was a notorious womanizer who had dozens of illegitimate offspring around the world." She hauled open the bottom drawer and began to flip through the folders. "He bitterly fought all paternity cases, and said horrible things about his accusers in the press. He might have been a hero...but he was no saint."

 

Gretch stood up and put her hands on her hips, and closed the drawer with a wave of her hand. "The files go up to the late Fifties, which fits the known timeline. Ira Silberman disappeared in '57 or '58 on the trail of Wilhem Kantor in South America. His primary focus after the War was tracking down members of the Thule Society who slipped through the Allies' fingers."

 

At Sam's mention of journals and notebooks, she frowned slightly; clearly they had very different ideas about what was important in this room, but she couldn't deny some curiosity about Al-Kazar's methods. "Louis wrote that his father was very protective of his secrets, so I doubt he just left them lying around for anyone to see. Before Lynn built the secret door, this room was pretty easy to find."

 

Then a thought hit her, and she cocked her head to one side as the studied the three filing cabinets. "Before he became a performer, Ira Silberman built furniture. Desks, dressers and cabinets were his specialty. Thurston the Great hired him to build some apparatus, and he became fascinated with it, offering several suggestions on how to improve the mechanism. It changed his life forever."

 

She took a step foward, then smiled and dramatically waved her hand, and all the drawers slid foward as one; despite herself, the Three Gifts were giving the young barista a flair for the theatrical. Gretch approached the first cabinet, and began to roughly measure first one of the drawers, then the cabinet itself with her hands; there was clearly a discrepancy of several inches at the back. Several deliberate thumps with her fingers seemed to indicate something was back there.

Edited May 24, 2016 by Heritage

[Sophistemon]

Samuel paused, his smile wavering. When he spoke, his voice was slightly monotonous. "Nobody's perfect," he said. "And if the good that we do can't outweigh the bad, then there's no hope for anyone." He cleared his throat, shook his head, and his excitement returned just as Gretchen began to discuss Al-Kazar's activities during the post-war era. "I've read up on the Thule Society," he commented. "Undeniably brilliant, but twisted and deeply disturbed. A shame, really. They could have put their minds and talents to much better things. I guess that's a trap that too many people fall into." When he noticed her change in attitude following his mention of the notebooks, he blushed. "I didn't mean it like that," he explained. "I mean, not really. There's just so much that I don't know that I should. My magic is slapdash at best, cobbled together from dozens of different and disagreeing sources. I'm not like you two; my magic doesn't come to me as easily. If I knew how Al-Kazar did what he did, I could patch the holes in my knowledge and be... safer. More like you guys." He moved closer when she started to fiddle with the cabinet, and his eyebrows shot up when he noticed the discrepancy in the measurements. "A secret compartment?" he wondered aloud. "Of course, that makes sense! A sort of disappearing act for whatever he wanted to keep safe. The most secure hiding place is the one that's right there in plain sight." He thought to himself that he didn't really need all of that closet space, and considered creating his own hidden nook to put things in.

Edited May 23, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Heritage]

Gretchen snorted and shook her head as she continued to study the back of the cabinets, looking for some sort of hidden catch. "I'm actually nothing special." She held her left hand up, allowing the Ring of Power to catch the light. "This little guy and the other two Gifts do all the heavy lifting. I'm basically just a girl with some nifty toys."

 

But then a look of realization spread over her face as she took a step back from the three cabinets. "Heavy lifting..." Then she looked down at the Ring and laughed. "Of course." She began to slowly raise her hand and squinted one eye. "If I had a magic ring that could move objects without touching them, I'd lock up my valuables behind a lock that had no key..."

 

The cabinets rattled and shook, first this way then that, as Gretchen began to probe them with invisible intangible hands, feeling for the secret mechanism. "It's actually one whole piece. He just made it to look like three seperate cabinets. Incredible." She screwed up her face in concentration, like someone fishing for a quarter that fell down a drain. "I think...I've got it..." There was a deep metalic clank from inside the ingenious wooden contraption, almost like a railroad switch being thrown, and then the whole thing slid forward on hidden rollers, creaking as it came; as it did so, a pair of slender bookcases slid out, one from either side, each filled with neat little notebooks with crisp red leather spines. Lynn's assistant let out her breath all in a rush as she dropped her hand to her side.

 

"Damn that thing was heavy! Let's see what we have here." She traced a row of spines with a gloved finger, noting some faint squiggles on each one. "Not sure what kind of system he had. We'll just pull one at random and see-" She carefully turned to the first page, and then her face went blank. "Oh s###." She flipped a few pages a bit faster than Sam would've liked, and then to his horror actually dropped the notebook as she yanked out another. She flipped through that one even faster, and then dropped that one too as she yanked out a third before she stopped, the pages held tightly between her fingers as she looked up at Sam with baleful eyes. "Oh Sam...I'm so sorry." She turned the book so he could finally see the pages; there were indeed many beautiful illustrations, of what looked like either some sort of summoning ritual or maybe a protective ward, but...

 

The text was all in Hebrew; pages and pages of it, filling all the notebooks in intricate script. The Amazing Al-Kazar really was protective of his secrets...

Edited June 1, 2016 by Heritage

[Sophistemon]

Samuel watched Gretchen, first eagerly, and then with a growing pit in his stomach that threatened to swallow him whole. When she dropped the first journal, he gasped a bit and bent to pick it up. By the time that she turned to face him, apologizing for something that was decades beyond her control, he'd already leafed through page after page of incomprehensible writing. "It's in Hebrew," he said, and perhaps to her amazement there was the hint of a smile around the corners of his mouth. "Of course, it would be. Why make things easy on us? One more trick." He handed the red leather notebook back to Gretchen. "I even used to speak a little Hebrew," he said. "The way a Catholic might speak Latin. I haven't been to temple in years, though." He sighed. "No worry, though. There are ways around this. Spells we can cast to twist the words into something a little more... forgiving." He reached up and rubbed the back of his head. "My worry is if he wrote it in code, though. I can't think of much that would help us with that. With any luck, this will be the last trick that he plays on us, and we can get going to the meat of things."

[Heritage]

Gretchen joined Samuel in his rueful appreciation of Al-Kazar's deviousness, grinning wryly and slowly shaking her head. "He was a wiley sonuvabitch, no doubt." Then her face lit up with cautious optimism. "Lynn reads Hebrew. She's a Conservative Jew who keeps kosher even when she can't eat, this should be no problem for her."

 

A few seconds later, the store's owner showed up, clearly summoned telepathically; she offered the ex-con a warm smile and friendly wave. "Hey Sam! Let's see what you've got here." She took the notebook and peered down at it, then laughed. "Oh, man! You guys were close; it's not Hebrew, it's Yiddish! Uses the Hebrew alphabet, but it's mostly German with lots of Slavic loanwords, though I guess there is a lot of Hebrew peppered through it." She turned it over and shook her head. "Makes sense, though; no one outside of Israel or rabbinical school writes much in Hebrew these days, but lots of people from the Old Country used to use Yiddish. They used to have newspapers and everything." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder back towards the sales floor. "Actually, Mr. Levinsky or one of the other alte kakers might be able to figure it out; I don't think it's in code, but all I know of Yiddish is the stuff everyone knows: schmuck, shlep, putz, schlemiel, all the good ones."

 

She shrugged and sighed. "Sorry I wasn't more useful."

Edited July 5, 2016 by Heritage

[Sophistemon]

Samuel chuckled. "Yiddish? Yiddish?" He lifted a hand to his face to muffle the laugh before he stepped over to a chair and sank into it. "Oy vey ist mir," he groaned, quoting one of the more well known and memorable phrases of the language: Oh, woe is me. He looked at Lynn, then, and Gretchen. "Lynn, you've been very helpful. I wouldn't know Hebrew from Yiddish from Greek at this point." He sighed. "Anyway... they aren't my journals," he said, somewhat grudgingly. "So I have no say in what you do with them. But... and I speak from experience here... maybe it isn't wise to trust the uninitiated with the unknown magical knowledge contained therein?" He was trying -- really trying -- to keep the bitter jealousy out of his voice, to disguise how uncomfortable he was with the idea that someone else might read Al-Kazar's words before he could. He almost succeeded. The former stage magician shook his head and blew air from his mouth. "I can... research a spell. Something to translate his writing. It needs to be exact, you know. Imagine what could happen if this Levinsky person mistranslated something and we tried one of your grandfather's spells. What if it backfired? Our translation has to be perfect and there's nothing more perfect than magic. It... I've never done something like this before, I admit that, but it shouldn't take me more than a few days to figure out."

[Heritage]

Lynn stopped, grinned and raised her eyebrows. "Uh, you didn't think I was serious, did you? I don't want one of my regulars to be devoured by a demon he summoned by mistake!" Then she placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I know you'll figure it out, Sam. Hey, if you want, I've got an old friend who's a vodun priestess who might be able to help you out; y'know, give you a few pointers? She's really good at making fetishes out of household objects."

 

Gretchen's brow furrowed as she put the rest of the notebooks back in the hidden bookshelves. "Is that Reena, the cop who fixed up Jezebel?"

 

The changeling snorted. "She fixed up you, too! Who do you think made that medicine bag I gave you in the hospital?"

 

Gretch visibly gasped as her fingers involunatarily traced the scars on her belly through her shirt. "Wow...," she murmered softly, her eyes now unfocsed with thought.

 

"Anyway, there's still a ton of stuff to go through before you crack the Yiddish Code; let me know if you need any more help."

 

And with that, she left them to it, Gretchen still thinking back to the night she nearly died as she absent-mindedly leaned up against one of the steamer trunks.

Edited July 5, 2016 by Heritage

[Sophistemon]

Samuel's face went blank and a blush began to creep its way up his neck to color his cheeks. "No, Lynn," he said, his voice oddly monotonous. "I was just playing along." He calmed down when she rested a hand on his shoulder, his embarrassment fading from mortification into something slightly more tolerable. "I, ah, thank you!" he said, and nodded. "Vodun? You know, I've looked into it, but I've never practiced any. Dealing with the Loa..." he shrugged his shoulders. "I've read that they like trades, and I try to avoid making deals with extra-dimensional beings -- especially the ones that don't believe in extensions... or deferments." After Lynn left, Sam cradled the journal in his hand. Linguistic roadblock aside, he was holding it. He was holding one of Al-Kazar's journals -- one of many! There was no telling what he might accomplish once he'd learned Yiddish himself. Nearly a full minute passed before something clicked in his head and he looked at Gretchen. "You were in the hospital?"

[Heritage]

Gretchen looked like she wanted to put the last volume Sam was holding away, but then she relented, seeing how much he needed to hold it right now.

 

"I nearly died that night," she began as she hiked herself up onto one of the steamer trunks and had a seat, her booted feet idly dangling. "Some thugs who were into magic knew we had a scroll they wanted, and they came looking for it. With submachine guns, grenades and plastic explosives." Somehow, her tone was flatter and less emotional than even usual. "I was shot here," she intoned as she laid her hand over her stomach. "And was bleeding out, on the floor, right between New Arrivals and Our Picks of the Month. But, Lynn saved me. She always saves me."

 

And then there was a sort of strangled gasp as just a hint of the roil of emotions that always surged beneath the young barista's dry, cynical exterior breached the surface, a small crack in her expertly-crafted facade. It was small and brief but deeply human, and therefore a little embarrassing to see.

 

But then the walls were back up with a nearly-audible clang, and the little bitch was back with a smirk and a shake of her head. "Don't let her get to you, Sam I Am. She's good people, but she's still not really human. The faerie in her still likes her little games and torments, liked the Wicked Step-Sisters in Cinderella. She doesn't even realize she does it."

 

Then she hopped down and dusted off her hands and butt. "The Amazing Al-Kazar has won this round, at least until we come back with reinforcements. Why don't we have a look at these trunks."

[Sophistemon]

Sam stared at the young woman, slightly wide-eyed. It was an expression that looked out of place on his features, tinged as it was with genuine concern. "I..." he set the journal down and, unsure of what to do with his hands, clasped them. "Gretchen, I'm so sorry. I don't... I don't know what to say to that." He thought of how she might see him -- a thief that had used magic the way those thugs had used machine guns, to take what they wanted -- and grimaced. He stood there a moment, working his tongue in his mouth, and tried to think of a way to break the lingering silence. "I just hope that you know, that you believe me when I say that I would never..." He paused, nervous, before switching gears. "As for fairies," he said, leaping from one topic to another like a frog in its pond. "They're capricious by nature. Is Lynn... is she dangerous?

[Heritage]

Gretchen laughed as she traced her fingers over the surface of a trunk, feeling the think layer of shipping stickers. "Of course, she's dangerous. Everybody is...which is why I generally try to avoid people. Put enough beer in anyone's gut and then hand them a hammer, anybody can hurt you." But then she paused and looked more thoughtful. "But if you mean does her faerie nature make her more dangerous than anyone else, that's a tougher question."

 

Gretch reached down and lifted up the padlock that kept the trunk's contents safe from prying eyes, cocking her head to one side; then she crouched down and touched the ring to the metal, her eyes closed in concentration. "Lynn told me she went evil once, her mind controlled by someone she trusted...and looked up to, like a father. She said her team defeated him before...they did any real harm, but she never forgot that feeling, that she was capable of doing anything, no matter how terrible." There was a soft click, and the padlock was open, much to her satisfaction. "There we go! So ever since then, she's always kept a bunch of iron around, usually locked up secure, and taught the people she cared about how to use it." She flipped open the catches, then paused to look up into Sam's eyes. "She taught her kids how to use it. She taught her own kids how to kill her if they had to."

 

Then she stood up and grabbed the edge of the lid with both hands. "So to answer your question, yes, she probably is dangerous. But someone who values the lives of others highly enough that she wants them to know how to kill her, that says something." With a firm yank, the lid came open, and the smells of old fabric and mothballs filled the small room. "We have costumes! And no, don't ask me about her kids. That's something you have to take up with Boss Lady."

Edited July 6, 2016 by Heritage

[Sophistemon]

He was silent for a moment, the journals all but forgotten as he processed what he'd learned. Iron, then? Good to know. Just in case. "I... can't imagine," he said. "Losing control like that. I've made my fair share of mistakes, so I understand guilt, but at least they were my mistakes, and not... not someone else making them through me." He considered the idea of Lynn having children. She seemed almost too young for them but, being a fairy, her appearance meant less than nothing. "Thank you, Gretchen, for sharing this with me. If... if there's anything about me that you'd like to know, you've only got to ask." When she opened the chest, his eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. "Costumes?" he asked. "Is the cape in there? Al-Kazar's cape?"

[Heritage]

Gretch looked up at Sam, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Uh, Sam? I hate to break it to you, but-" She took a step back, then floated about a foot in the air as she turned the Ring of Power and transformed into the Shrike. Still floating, she held up one side of her cloak. "This is Al-Kazar's cape. Its real name is the Cloak of Mystery." Then she reached up to tap the temple of her silver bird mask. "This is Al-Kazar's turban. Its called the Helm of Truth." She turned the ring again, and became her old self once more. "The Three Gifts are like a matched set. You don't get one without the others." She shrugged. "The Gifts adopt a form appropriate to their bearer. Al-Kazar, already wore a costume on stage, so they adopted to what he already wore." Then she frowned. "I'm still not quite sure why the Gifts made me the Shrike. Though I have to say, I love the look."

 

She tried her best attempt at an encouraging smile. "But I'm sure there's plenty of other magic stuff around, and Lynn's pretty generous. I'm sure we'll find something cool for you, too."

Edited July 8, 2016 by Heritage