XXXII
1053 Words
XXXII
Celesse eased her way into a hardware store. It was near closing time and a late surge of people flowed in and out of the lobby.
She had changed into jeans and a t-shirt. She tied her hair into a long ponytail and wore a baseball cap that she pulled low over her eyes.
The store aisles were packed with tall shelves that stretched at least thirty feet into the air. If you wanted something, you had to ask an elven attendant, who then used a special grimoire to call the item down. Otherwise, you had to use your own spells, and the store wasn’t responsible for anything that happened if you did.
Fortunately, she didn’t need anything.
Just subterfuge.
As she passed down an aisle, weaving around several humans carrying buzz saws, she hoped that nothing fell on her. There was no point looking up in a place like this; something was always hovering just over your head.
Hardware stores weren’t Celesse’s kind of place. She preferred luxury bars or the comfort of her own couch—or Lucan’s couch, depending on where she was staying. They’d talked about taking their relationship to the next level, but the election had put a stop to that. Now they were too busy to worry about personal matters.
Lucan was back at the factory trying to figure out what to do with Old Dark, and here she was, cleaning up his messes.
How much money did you have to have before responsibility kicked in?
She’d wanted him to say the right words, hold her the right way, make the right, sweet promises. But Lucan was Lucan, and she wondered if she could get okay with that.
She crossed into another aisle, narrowly missing a shopping cart with lumber sticking out of the front.
The lumberyard lay fifty paces ahead, open and exposed. It was raining, but the shelves of lumber glowed pink, protected by a waterproofing spell.
She wished she’d worn a hoodie.
Gunther Penrose would be there, and knowing how contractors like him didn’t mind the elements, he’d be waiting in the rain.
An automatic door slid open and she stepped into the rain. It fell gently on her shoulders and patted against her baseball cap.
She pulled her cap down and scanned the yard. Two forklifts were parked under an overhang, and elven employees sat next to them, waiting for the rain to stop.
The ground was slowly turning into mud and puddles. Her white tennis shoes sank into the mud and crunched gravel as she walked.
Where was he?
Out in the open were pyramids of firewood and tall mounds of pea gravel bags. The woody, earthy smell reached her and made her think of Lucan’s cabin in the woods, a cozy place hidden two hours from civilization.
The rain picked up and thunder rumbled in the distance.
She stuffed her hands into her pockets and walked into the rain.
A whistle came from her left.
She spun around and faced a dark aisle of two-by-fours and planks. A shadow moved near the end of the aisle.
She stalked down the aisle. When she reached the end, a voice said, “Stay there.”
She stopped. In front of her, several planks shifted, making an opening. Gunther Penrose’s blue eyes were peering at her from the other side of the shelf. He wore a denim shirt and had short, cropped red hair. He smacked a white piece of gum and chewed with his mouth open.
She didn’t care for Gunther Penrose. Rough around the edges, he had built many of Lucan’s factories and had a freewheeling way about him, and she never knew the best way to control him.
“You sure you couldn’t do this over the phone?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He grinned and chewed faster. “You know, your pretty nails might give you away in a place like this.”
Her nails were bright red, freshly painted yesterday. She hadn’t thought about that.
“I made it all the way here, so I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said.
“You’re sexy in high heels, but maybe you should try the t-shirt and jeans style, is all I’m saying,” Gunther said.
Creep. How many times had he undressed her in his mind already? The very thought made her sick. “I didn’t come here to flirt.”
“Neither did I, actually.”
“You can’t have direct contact with Lucan anymore,” Celesse said. “Not after what happened.”
“Welp, tell your boy we got a problem.”
Celesse sighed. “You want more money?”
“Sheeeet. Lucan gave me more money than the last two jobs combined. That ain’t it.”
“Is it one of your subs?”
“No.”
“Did the burial go as planned?”
“No one’s going to find the remains of that tomb, trust me. You gonna let me talk or what?”
Celesse breathed with relief. If those exposures were taken care of, then there shouldn’t have been anything to worry about.
But she still felt a pit at the bottom of her stomach opening up, and she wanted the answer.
“Out with it,” she said.
Gunther glanced around cautiously. “Remember the kid who was with us?”
“You mean the college kid?” she asked.
Tony Dyer. The elven student who had accompanied Lucan to the bog. Lucan had promised the boy cash, but he kept repeating that he wasn’t interested. Even Celesse had told him to take the money, but the boy wouldn’t take it, citing hope and change and honest politics and blah blah.
“He’s accounted for,” she said.
“He and his dad showed up at my office yesterday wanting to speak with your boy.”
“We’ve been on the campaign circuit,” Celesse said.
“Yeah, which is why they came to me.”
Celesse’s eyes widened.
“Kid had a change of mind,” Gunther said.
“Crap. I told Lucan that boy was trouble.”
“His father is demanding to meet with Lucan,” Gunther said. “If not, they’re going to an attorney.”
“Why an attorney?”
Gunther laughed. “Forgot to tell you—kid’s arm was in a cast.”
“We inspected him. He didn’t take a hit in the attack with the dragon. How can he possibly be hurt?”
“Welcome to my world,” Gunther said. “Don’t tell me you haven’t had people claim things against you that weren’t true.”
Celesse pulled out her phone and started to thumb a text. As her thumbs hovered over the screen, she remembered that her text message would have geo-data coded into it. She couldn’t betray her location if this got out.
“Gunther, thanks for the heads-up. Are we still good?”
“We’re good.”
Gunther walked away. His voice echoed down the aisle.
“Besides, that kid’s dad is a worse pain in your ass than I’ll ever be,” he said.
- Writer
