Its a nasty one, Chief! she shouted as she eyed the smoke and flames belching from the Big Tops entrance.
A Kymeran bearing the badge of fire chief on his helmet reached into the pocket of his canvas coat and removed a small glass bottle the size of a Christmas ornament. There you go, my friend, he said as he removed the stopper. Eat your fill!
The jinn shot forth like a flash of lightning, and a second later the outline of a creature composed not of flesh and blood but from smokeless fire hovered in midair above Duivel Street. As the elemental turned its attention to the inferno before it, its eyes literally burned with hunger. It tossed back its blazing head and opened its fiery mouth and inhaled mightily, like a child preparing to blow out the candles on a birthday cake. A cascade of flame suddenly came pouring out of the building like the torrents of a flash flood. The gathered onlookers shouted in alarm and raised their arms to shield their faces and eyes from the blistering heat as the fire shot toward the hovering jinn. This seemed to amuse the elemental, whose laughter rang out like the peals from a great bell.
Within the space of a few heartbeats the conflagration was extinguished, and what had moments before been a raging inferno was now no more than a swelling in the jinns belly. The elemental yawned and stretched its flickering limbs as it disappeared back into the safety of its bottle, where it could digest its meal in peace.
The moment the jinn was contained, the firefighters trained their hoses on the front of the building, dousing it in high-pressure streams of water. Once they finished with the exterior, Octavia entered the burned-out club through the clowns head, only now one side of it had melted from the extreme heat, causing the face to sag as if it had suffered a stroke. Using her metal fire tool as a walking stick, she made her way, sure-footed as a goat, through the charred ruins, searching for hidden hot spots to extinguish.
Bjorn Cowpen seemed woozy but otherwise unharmed. As his family gathered around him, he kissed each of his daughters on the forehead, muttering endearments in their native tongue, before warmly embracing the son who had carried him to safety. He slipped an arm around his wife and heir, using them as living crutches to hobble over to where I stood.
Im sorry about what happened to your club, Councilman, I said, and was surprised to realize that I actually meant it.
I have others, he said with a weary shrug. But this was the one I inherited from my father, when I was Tyrs age. As he looked me in the eye, I could tell he was truly seeing me for the first time. Youre Canterburys apprentice, are you not?
Yes, I am, I replied. He sent me to hand over the title to your new carriage and take the final payment. But Im afraid I left the paperwork in the club. . . .
That old horse-wizard must really trust you, Cowpen said as he reached into the pocket of his skintight pants and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he then handed to me.
I unfolded the paper and saw that it was a cashiers check drawn on Midas National Bank. I checked that the zeroes lined up before and after the comma and decimal were of the correct number, then nodded my head and carefully transferred it to my own pocket.
I appreciate what you did, human, the councilman continued, stepping in close to shake my hand. But if anyone asks you what happened today, you didnt see nothing. Understand?
I stared down at the tightly bundled wad of hundred dollar bills pressed into my palm. Part of me wanted to give the money back and tell Cowpen that pretending nothing happened wasnt going to keep the Maladanti away. But then I remembered my own delicate standing with Boss Marz, the stack of bills on Hexes desk, and the future cradled inside me.
More than you realize, I replied.
Chapter 11
While my tip from Cowpen wasnt going to solve all our financial worries, it was enough to give us the first breathing room wed known in months. For the first time since Jubilee Night, not only did there seem to be a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, for once it didnt appear to be a train barreling down on us. However, the moment I set foot in the door and saw a scowling Hexe waiting for me in the front parlor, my high spirits came crashing back down to earth.
Octavia tells me that you ran into a burning building today. Is that true?
For crying out loud, Hexe! I groaned, setting down my lunch pail on the coffee table. I didnt do it for kicks! Did Octavia also mention I went in there to save Bjorn Cowpen?
What were you thinking? Hexe exclaimed, coming out of his seat like a jack-in-the-box.
I was thinking that I was the only person who saw him collapse and knew where to find him, I replied. Are you actually mad at me for saving a mans life?
No, Im more upset than anything else, he admitted, the scowl disappearing from his face. You did a very brash thing. What if youd been hurt? Did you give any thought at all to what might happen to youor the baby?
I blushed and dropped my gaze. He had me there. The fact I was now pregnant had not occurred to me in the heat of the moment. I simply knew what I had to do, and I just went ahead and did it, without taking anything else into consideration. I guess youve got every right to be pissed off at me, I agreed. Its not just me anymore, is it?
It hasnt been just you since the day we met, he replied. Were you in the club when the fire started?
Yes, I admitted grudgingly. The Maladanti are raising their protection fees. Bjorn told them to get stuffed in no uncertain termsso Marzs croggy Gaza hellfire-bombed the bar and put Cowpen under a sleeper spell. Thats why I had to go back in and get him. Im certain Cowpens going to insist it was all an accident, though, and his familys going to back him up on it.
What you did today was very courageous, Tate. But youve always been a brave womanwe would have never met if you didnt have the guts to move to Golgotham in the first place. Just promise me you wont do anything that dangerous againat least not until after you have the baby.
And here I was planning on juggling chainsaws to bring in extra money! I laughed. Im just joking! I added hastily, seeing the flash of alarm in his golden eyes, and planted a kiss on his cheek. Ohand speaking of putting off things until the baby arriveshave you told your parents the news yet?
Now it was his turn to look at his shoes. Not yet. Ill call them in a day or two.
How about we put all this behind us and go out for dinner? After all, you were complaining about feeling cooped up earlier. . . .
That sounds great, he said with a rueful smile. But theres no way we can afford it.
Dont worryIve got it covered, I said, taking out the money Cowpen had given me.
Where did you get that? Hexe asked, his eyes widening in surprise.
Lets just say it was the councilmans way of saying thank you for saving his life, as well as keeping my mouth shut.
I dont feel good about this, Tate, Hexe said, frowning at the money.
Uh-uh, I said, with a defiant shake of my head. I know that look. Youre getting ready to give me the big lecture about the Right Hand path and tell me to give the money back and report what happened to the PTU. I realize you dont want to compromise your principlesbut I am not returning this money, and I am definitely not talking to your father about what I saw.
For one, Im pretty sure giving back this money will offend Bjorn Cowpen only slightly less than setting fire to his club. And, secondly, since were already playing our own little game of Dont Ask, Dont Tell with Boss Marz, who are we to insist he go to the authorities? Hell, hes a chuffin councilman; he is the authority in Golgotham! If Marz doesnt hesitate to physically strike out at members of the Royal Family and the GoBOO, then he must really have some badass mojo up his sleeve. And I, for one, have no desire to find out what it might be. Ill admit that running into a burning building in my current condition was reckless, but its nowhere near as dangerous as what youre suggesting I do.
Hexes shoulders dropped in resignation, as if all the weight in the world had suddenly settled upon them. Youre right, he sighed in agreement. I cant blame Cowpen for keeping silent. Hes doesnt want to do anything that will jeopardize his family. He gave a sad little smile as he rested his left hand on my belly. Its like you saidits not just me anymore.
* * *
As luck would have it, Talisman was playing at the Two-Headed Calf that night. Since the Kymeran punk band had become extremely popular with the younger humans intrepid enough to venture beyond Duivel Street and the Fly Market, the evenings they played the Calf were always guaranteed to be packed to the rafters.
As crowded as it was, I could still easily spot Lafo, standing head and shoulders over his patrons, his bright red hair spilling over the collar of a purple pinstripe zoot suit. Upon seeing us, the restaurateur elbowed his way across the packed room
Good to see you again, Serenity! he grinned, shouting over the amplified accordions and electric hurdy-gurdy.
As his friend moved to shake his hand, Hexe hastily recoiled. No offense, Lafo, he said quickly, holding up his right hand by way of explanation, displaying the splint. I had a little too much to drink Jubilee Night and lost my balance stepping off a curb. I tried to break my fall, and ended up breaking my hand instead.
Lafos ketchup-red eyebrows shot up in surprise. Nothing serious, I hope?
Ill be good as new within a week, he lied. I just have to give the bones time to strengthen after being reknit, thats all. Tate and I were hoping to have dinner here this evening, but it looks like we picked the wrong night.
No need to worry about that; most of the kids who show up for the band never set foot upstairs, Lafo snorted. Luckily, they all drink like fish, though.
Upon reaching the upstairs dining room, we were unsurprised to discover only a handful of the tables and booths occupied, as the regular clientele had learned to steer clear of the Calf on those nights Talisman was scheduled to play. Not wanting to call attention to ourselves, we chose a booth toward the back of the dining area and placed our drink and dinner orders.
As we waited for our food, we chatted about work, friends, and our pet, trying hard to have a good time and not dwell on current problems. And, for a while, we actually succeeded in doing so. Then our meals arrived.
Oh, Hexe said, his face collapsing as he stared at the roasted kangaroo tail draped across the platter. I forgot you need two hands to eat this thing.
You can have my parsnip casserole, if you like, I suggested.
Thats okay, he replied, as he unrolled the cutlery, fumbling with the steak knife. I can cut it up into chunks. He studied his food for a long moment, trying to figure out the best way to attack the problem without it ending up in his lap.
Darling, do you need some help? I asked gently. I can cut it up for you, if you like. . . .
No! he replied sharply. Im fine. I do not need anyone to cut up my food for me! He began to saw at the roo-tail, only to have the knife fly out his hand and land on the floor. His face flushed bright red as he bent to retrieve it, before our server appeared tableside with a fresh roll of cutlery.
If you like, Serenity, I can take your entree back to the kitchen and have it replaced with a chopped version? the waiter suggested politely as he retrieved the soiled knife.
Yes, thank you, Hexe mumbled, his cheeks turning an even brighter shade of red.
After the waiter left with his plate, I learned forward, keenly aware that we were being watched by the other diners. Maybe this wasnt such a good idea, I said sotto voce.
I said Im fine, Hexe insisted as he picked up his pint of barley wine, only to slosh a good portion of it onto his shirtfront. Heavens and hells! he snarled, slopping even more out of the glass as he slammed it back down.
I looked away as he attempted to blot the dark, sticky fluid from his clothes with his napkin, afraid of what he might see in my eyes. Hexe was the most graceful man I had ever known; watching him fumble with silverware and spill his drink was absolutely heartbreaking. All I wanted at that moment was to somehow find a way of taking his burden onto myself, so that he did not have to suffer alone. My frustration at being unable to do so was so great it threatened to push me into despair.
Excuse me, Serenity. . . .
An unfamiliar Kymeran woman in her early thirties with slate-blue hair and intense, gray eyes was standing beside our table. I had not seen her approach, nor had I noticed her earlier in the dining room, but she must have been there, all the same.
I could not help but notice the . . . difficulty you are undergoing, she said with a discreet nod to Hexes splinted hand. Please allow me to introduce myself: I am Erys. I am a glover, by trade. And I believe I have an item in my inventory that would be of immense service to you.
Thank you, but Im not in the market for magic gloves, Madam Erys, Hexe said with a wan smile.
Not even the Gauntlet of Nydd? she countered, her pale gray eyes gleaming like pieces of tin in the muted light of the dining room.
Hexe paused for a long moment, like a fish contemplating the bait on the end of a hook, before shaking his head. I appreciate your offer, but the splint is merely a temporary inconvenience, he explained. Ill be as good as new in just a few days.
Of course, Serenity, Erys replied, with a bow of her head. But in case you should change your mindfeel free to come by my shop. She snapped her fingers, and a business card materialized from nowhere.
Thank you for your concern, Madam Erys, Hexe said politely as he accepted the proffered card.
Erys nodded her head and turned to go, but not before flashing me a sidelong glance harsh enough to peel paint. Although I had become somewhat inured to the casual misanthropy of most Kymerans, I was momentarily shaken by the unalloyed revulsion in the other womans pale eyes.
Ugh! I whispered, once she was out of earshot. That woman gives me the creeps! And magic gloves? Is she for real?
Theres always a market for enchanted clothing, Hexe replied with a shrug. Seven league boots, cloaks of invisibility, ruby slippers, that sort of thing. Most of the shops are over on Shoemaker Lane.
So whos this Nydd guy? And why would you want his gauntlet?
He was a lieutenant in the Dragon Calvary during the Sufferance, Hexe replied, staring down at his damaged hand. He was also the son of General Vlad. When Nydds right hand was badly maimed in a skirmish with Witchfinders, his father created a special gauntlet that enabled him to use his hand again.
That sounds like something you could definitely use right now.
Perhaps, he agreed. But I seriously doubt she has the genuine article in her possession. The Gauntlet of Nydd disappeared during the Dragon War, and the spell that created it died with General Vlad.
How does something like that get lost, anyway?
Vlad cut it off Nydds hand when he refused to go to war against his uncle, the Witch King, he replied matter-of-factly.
We finished our dinner and returned home, although Hexe was far less talkative than usual. I could tell by the furrow in his brow that he was mulling over Madam Erys words. The preoccupied look in his eyes was still there as we undressed for bed.
Youre so beautiful, Hexe said as I straddled him.
I bet you say that to all the girls you knock up, I grinned, removing my bra. I tossed it at the owl atop the nearest bedpost, covering its unblinking eyes with a C-cup.
I have, so far, he chuckled. Out of reflex, he reached up to cup my breasts, only to have his face go white with pain.
Do you need your pills? I asked.
Yeah, he grunted, cradling his wounded hand against his chest as he rode out the wave of agony.
I hopped off the bed and hurried to the bathroom, returning with a glass of water, which Hexe gratefully accepted as he choked down more of Dr. Maos pills. After a minute or so the muscles in his face began to relax.
Im sorry, Tate, he said, his words already beginning to slur. But I dont think Im going to be of much use tonight.
Its okay, baby, I said, lying down beside him. We can cuddle; I dont mind.
But by the time I pulled the bedclothes over us, his eyes were already closed. I lay there for a long time, watching him sleep. He mumbled a couple of things under his breath, and from the way his body twitched against mine, I could tell his dreams were troubled. I glanced up at the bedposts. The owls looked worried.
* * *
Im so happy for you, Tate! Vanessa was finally able to articulate, after an initial squeal of excitement so loud I had to hold the cell phone a foot from my ear. You two are going to make kick-ass parents! I am going to throw you one awesome baby shower! Ooh! Can I be the godmotherassuming you dont already have an actual fairy lined up for the job?
Of course youre going to be the godmother, Nessie! I laughed. I wouldnt dream of appointing anyone else!
Speaking of mothershave you told Mrs. E the big news yet?
Youre the first person, outside of Hexe, Ive notified. We havent even talked to his mother, yet, much less mine.
Yeah, but you really ought to let your folks know, Tate. I know theyre horrible and everything, but becoming grandparents will turn their brains to mush, Vanessa pointed out helpfully. You would not believe what my mother is willing to agree to just to have access to my brothers kid! And my dad! He actually stuffs twenty dollar bills in the brats rompers! I swear, its like someone stole my parents and replaced them with lobotomized doppelgangers.
Yeah, but your brother didnt marry a witch, I replied.
Thats what you think!
Im not going to liewe could really use some outside financial help right now, I admitted as I dug the keys to the boardinghouse out of my pocket. But Im not breaking down and calling my parents. Theyre the ones who demanded that I give up Hexe, and then cut off my trust fund when I refused. If they want to be a part of their grandchilds life, its up to them to make the first move, not me.
Before I could unlock the front door I heard a womans voice from inside the house angrily shouting, Look at me! Look! At! Me!
Uh, Nessie, Im going to have to get back to you later, I said as I quickly cut off the call. Upon opening the door I saw Hexe desperately trying to block the path of a statuesque woman with auburn hair. I knew from her height, bone structure, and anorexia that she was a model of some sort, although it was difficult to tell if she was anyone famous or not, due to the luxurious full beard and mustache that covered the lower half of her face.
I am dreadfully sorry, Ms. Pasternak, Hexe said in all earnestness. I must have miscalculated one of the ingredients in the exfoliant I prepared for you. All I have to do is formulate a new batch, thats all. . . .
Its bad enough I woke up this morning with a handlebar mustache! I did not pay you good money so I could go to bed looking like the bearded lady at the freak show! Ms. Pasternak exclaimed indignantly.
Of course you didnt, Hexe said, using his best client-whisperer voice as he struggled to defuse the situation. Now, if you would just give me some time, Im sure Ill be able to reverse the condition. . . .
How much time? Ms. Pasternak frowned as she stroked her bearded chin.
An hour, perhapscertainly no more than two . . .
I dont have that kind of time to waste hanging around waiting to see if you might be able to reverse this . . . this . . .
Hypertrichosis, Hexe supplied helpfully.
I dont care what you call it. I want it gone! she snapped, grabbing a handful of beard in illustration. And I want it gone now! I came here because I was told you were the best curse-lifter in Golgotham! Ive got an important fashion shoot tomorrow; I cant show up looking like I belong on a box of cough drops!
As I said, I simply need to reformulate the lotion and reapply it to your face. . . .
If you think Im going to let you put more of that stuff on me again, youre out of your mind! the hirsute Ms. Pasternak exclaimed. Im getting out of here before I end up like Rip Van Winkle! Now give me back my money!
But Ms. Pasternak, if you would just give me another chance!
Id rather take my chances in the Rookery, if its all the same to you, the bearded fashion model said sternly, thrusting forth a perfectly manicured hand. I demand a refund, or do I have to call the copsor whatever the hell you people call them in this godforsaken ghetto of yours?
That wont be necessary, he said glumly. Hexe stuck his left hand in his pocket, reluctantly withdrawing five crisp hundred dollar bills. Heres your money.
Ms. Pasternak snatched the cash back, tucking it into whatever cleavage lurked behind her whiskers. Just be glad I didnt ask for damages as well! she snapped. As she headed for the door, she paused to give me a warning glance. I wouldnt waste your money on him if I were you, sister. The guys a charlatan!
After the front door slammed behind his disgruntled former client, Hexe silently strode out of the parlor and headed for his office. A second later he returned with Madam Erys business card.
Cmon, he said in a clipped voice. Lets go try on some gloves.
Chapter 12
Shoemaker Lane had, at one time, been the home of the leprechaun cobblers who make footwear for Kymerans and other hard-to-fit customers. They also had a thriving side business selling charmed boots and shoes to humans. Although there were still quite a few signs shaped like oversized boots visible along the street, most of the Wee Folk had relocated eastward to Ferry Street, allowing other tradesmen to take their place.
I paused outside one of the remaining enchanted cobbler shops and stared at a dazzling array of gleaming glass slippers. Each pair had a little sign with a brief description of its particular charm to potential buyers, such as makes you irresistible, world-class ballroom dancer, or beautiful until midnight. Of course, you might have to cut off a toe or two to get them to fit, but then, all fashion has its price.
Come on, Hexe said, giving my arm a tug. You can window-shop later. He continued down the street, checking the address on the business card with the house numbers over the shops. After passing a tailor specializing in cloaks of invisibility and a millinery selling thinking caps, he came to a stop in front of a wooden trade sign in the shape of a six-fingered hand. Perched atop it was a large raven, preening its shiny black feathers with its ebon beak. As we approached the storefront, it cawed noisily and took to the air.
In the window of the shop were a number of mannequin hands posed in a variety of spell configurations, both left-and-right handed, each sheathed in a glove of some kind. Some of the gloves looked fairly ordinary, but the display also included one made from spiderwebs and another that looked like it was fashioned from pieced together bits of a broken mirror.
The bell over the shop door tinkled discreetly as we entered. The atmosphere inside the shop was strangely close and smelled faintly of dust, like a rarely used storage locker. The back of the shop was curtained off from the sales floor, which featured a long glass display counter, behind which stood a cabinet full of small, narrow drawers that took up the entire wall. An antique cash register, the kind with elaborate scrollwork and amount flags instead of digital readouts, sat unattended on the counter. A pair of white, full-length silk opera gloves were casually draped over the edge of the counter like the shed skins of twin albino pythons.
Hexe stepped forward, looking about the otherwise empty store. Hello? Is anyone there?
The curtain at the back of the shop twitched aside and Erys emerged, moving with slightly overly deliberate movements, like an actress playing a part onstage. Ah! Serenity! Welcome to my humble establishment! You honor me greatly! She smiled. I take it youve changed your mind since last we spoke?
Lets just say youve piqued my interest, Hexe replied. How long have you been keeping shop on Shoemaker Lane, Madam Erys?
I am a relative newcomer to Golgotham, she explained. I only recently relocated my business from the Faubourg Cauchemar.
Is there that much of a demand for magic gloves nowadays? I asked, staring at the wall-sized cabinets in disbelief.
Madam Erys pale gray eyes flickered toward me in thinly veiled distaste. Away from the aromas of the Calfs dining room, I was finally able to get a good whiff of her scent. She smelled strongly of dill and sulfured molassestwo scents that were, in and of themselves, pleasant enough, but, when combined, seemed unnatural.
Should a customer wish to be a classical pianist, or a virtuoso violinist, I can make them the next Rachmaninoff or Isaac Stern with a pair of silk concert gloves, she replied stiffly. Or should they desire to win at the crap tables, I have a pair of special kid gloves that will ensure theyll never roll snake eyes again. I also have an outfielders mitt guaranteed to attract baseballs like a magnet. Anything that can be done by hand, can be enhanced by my merchandise. She turned to Hexe, flashing him an obsequious smile. Allow me to show you the gauntlet. Once you inspect it, youll see it is, indeed, the genuine article. Madam Erys pulled one of the drawers from its cubby hole, like a banker removing a safety deposit box, and placed it atop the counter. The interior of the drawer was lined in velvet and contained a solitary chain-mail glove that shimmered in the dusty light of the shop like a jeweled fish still wet from the sea.
It didnt look forged as much as woven from silver filigree. The palm and knuckle-bridge were protected by a metal cuff of white gold and engraved with the sinuous form of a dragon, while the tips of each digitall six of themwere capped in platinum and inset with pieces of polished jade to give the semblance of fingernails. It was, without a doubt, the most breathtakingly beautiful item of clothing Id ever seen in my life.
Hexe removed a small scrying stone from his pocket and passed it back and forth over the gauntlet like a magnifying glass. It does appear to be Vlads spellwork, he mused aloud. I recognize his signature from the family archives. He studied it for a long moment, the glittering silver skin reflected in his golden eyes. How much do you want? he asked.
Are you nuts? I whispered. Theres no way we can afford that thing, even if I wasnt cut off from the family fortune!
Hexe gave me a tiny shake of the head and put a finger to his lips, his signal for let me handle this. I grudgingly fell silent.
I would rather not bring something so vulgar as money into this, Madam Erys replied carefully. As a loyal Kymeran, it is my honor, nay, my duty to offer such an artifact to you, Serenity.
You humble me with your generosity, Madam Erys, Hexe said, with a ritual bow of his head. But surely there is something I can offer in return?
A royal warrant of appointment would be most appreciated, Serenity. As you can see, my business is not what it could be, she said, gesturing to the dust gathering in the corners of the shop. There are still those in Golgotham, and elsewhere, who put great stock in where members of the Royal Family receive their goods, especially the Heir Apparent.