Condemned by order of the health inspector. Do not enter.
I stared at the sign on the door to Rupert’s bar for longer than it took to read it. Cars honked at the nearby intersection, and tourists and locals hurried down the sidewalks with their collars turned up against the rain pelting down from above. But this alley was empty of life, as if nobody knew it was here.
My phone buzzed. Thinking it was my boss, Colonel Pariah, I pulled it out, but when I saw the identity of the caller, I grimaced and stuck it back in my pocket. My therapist’s office. No doubt it was the perky receptionist reminding me of my next appointment. She could leave a message. Work got priority over my niggling health issues.
I rested a hand on the cold metal door and willed one of the magical trinkets on the leath
