by Nic Saint
He looked as if he’d just arrived straight from the darkest pits of hell.
Lightning strike after lightning strike flashed from his hands and hit the golden man where it looked like it would hurt the most. Most of the strikes he managed to dodge, but not all of them, and his nice golden suit was starting to look a little frayed around the edges, parts of his charred skin peeping through. If this kept up, Severin Lobb wasn’t going to survive this, she thought, and after the story she’d heard, that seemed like a real pity.
The two men from Allard had taken the fight up into the sky and were now slashing the air with flashes and thunderous booms of thunder, as they struck each other massive blows high above Happy Bays, while the rain kept pounding those down here on earth. The Happy Bays Neighborhood Watch Committee and the Happy Bays Police Department now stood huddled on Marcel Le Corbusier’s porch, staring up at the sky and trying to make out what was happening up there, high up in the churning, roiling clouds.
“Severin doesn’t stand a chance,” Marcel now opined with a grin.
“I’m rooting for Severin,” said Alice, who’d always had a strong sense of right and wrong, and seemed determined to take the side of the underdog.
“I don’t know who I’m rooting for,” Felicity now said. “They both seem like such monstrous beings.”
“Oh, but Severin is no monstrous being,” her mother said. “He’s actually very nice once you get to know him a little better.”
“Get to know him…” Her eyes widened. “Mom! Do you mean to tell me this guy is your friend?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call him a friend,” said Mom, “but we have met a few times over the years, and he’s always been very nice to me.” She looked a little sheepish as she spoke these words, and refused to meet Felicity’s eyes.
“And when were you going to tell me?” she asked, extremely piqued.
“Yes, when were you going to tell us, Bianca?” Bettina piped up.
“This is the guy who sent Virgil to the dungeon!” Marjorie added. “So don’t tell me he’s a nice guy! He’s evil! Mean as a junkyard dog!”
“Well, he also sent my dad to the dungeons of Allard,” said Alice thoughtfully, her allegiance suddenly shifting again.
“He came to visit a few times over the last couple of decades,” Mom said. “Always with the same lament. The Allardians need their ring back. But for some reason it’s lost and nowhere to be found. Isn’t that right, Pete?”
Felicity’s dad nodded, his eyes riveted on the skies, where the fiery slashes and swirls were intensifying rapidly, like a sort of deadly fireworks.
“Yeah, they’re in big trouble without that ring,” he said now.
“And you’re telling me that Grandfather made a deal with them?”
Pete nodded again, his hands shoved into the pockets his pants. “That’s right. My dad’s start-up bakery wasn’t doing all that well. In fact it looked like he was going to have to close before the first year was out, when one day this beautiful woman walked into Bell’s and knocked him off his feet.”
“Tabitha,” Felicity said.
“Dad said he’d never seen anyone like her. She had an otherworldly quality about her, as if she was from outer space or something, or Europe perhaps. Which, of course, was because she was Tabitha Hodd, daughter of King Zelig of Allard. Turns out she was visiting our realm because she was a great baking fan herself and wanted to see how we did things up here. She could see that Dad had real talent and decided to grant him her patronage. Which meant that he was sure to flourish and prosper. On a more practical note, she gave him her ring, and said he could keep it for one year, by which time Bell’s would be established on solid footing for generations to come.
“Only, one year later, when she returned to pick up her ring, Dad had to admit it was gone. He’d lost it. Ever since that day, for almost eighty years now, her emissary Severin Lobb has been dropping in on us every decade or so, wanting that ring back. And it seems as if they’re getting pretty desperate in Allard, for without that ring he says they’re all going to die.” Peter directed a nasty glance at Marcel. “Little did Dad know that Marcel had stolen Tabitha’s precious ring so he could establish himself in business as well.”
“Competition is the heart of American capitalism,” Marcel croaked now. “Nothing wrong with a bit of healthy competition, Pete. Your father should have seen that.”
“Not if you do it by stealing a ring that doesn’t belong to you and then using it to make a deal with the devil,” bit Pete.
“Mortdecai is hardly the devil,” Marcel tut-tutted, adjusting his bulk on the bench. But he grinned, and Fee had the distinct impression he knew exactly whom he’d gotten into bed with. She could hardly believe he was almost a hundred. He looked so vital, his eyes flashing with vigor and intelligence.
“Mortdecai is your… patron?” she asked.
“Don’t answer that, Granddad,” said Lucien, a black-haired young man with sallow face and downturned lips. In his costume he looked more like a lawyer than a baker. He seemed more nervous than his grandfather, and perhaps for good reason, Felicity thought. She’d never liked the Le Corbusiers, and not just because they were the competition. Lucien seemed… evil, almost.
“I don’t mind telling the story,” said Marcel. “Yes, Mortdecai offered his patronage. I wasn’t happy being a mere helper to the great Peter Bell, so one day Mortdecai paid me a visit. Like Tabitha Hodd, he was a visitor from another realm, only Mortdecai said he was just like me, unhappy with his station in life. On Allard he was apparently a guard at the dungeons, assigned to guard anyone foolish enough to venture into their realm.
“He wanted more out of life than just sitting around playing pinochle with the other guards all day, while the Hodds lived the good life up in the castle. Princess Tabitha ran a small bakery on Allard, just for the heck of it, which is why she took such an interest in Bell’s. Mortdecai said that if I got him that ring, he would make me as successful, or even more successful, than Pete, while also ensuring my family and me a long and blessed life.” He held up his arms. “How could I refuse? So I took the ring and Mortdecai set me up in business, my own name on the marquee, and over the years Marcel’s has proven to be a lot more successful even than Bell’s.”
“As if,” grumbled Dad. “You’ve never achieved the same acclaim.”
“Well, that’s not entirely true, Pete,” now interjected Marjorie. “I for one like Marcel’s apple cake a lot better than Bell’s. No offense.”
“Yeah, I like to shop at Marcel’s too,” Louise Rhythm now said. The policewoman licked her lips. “I like your donuts, Marcel. They’re so creamy.”
There were murmurs of ascent from the other police officers, who all seemed to be happy that Happy Bays had more than one bakery to choose from, and liked to switch from Bell’s to Marcel’s and back again.
“See?” asked Marcel with a toothy grin. “This isn’t communism, Pete. A little bit of competition is good for everyone.”
“You shouldn’t have stolen the Ring of Hodd,” Pete insisted. “And kept it.”
Marcel shrugged. “If the Allardians are so superior to our realm, then the absence of one little ring shouldn’t make much of a difference.”
Felicity shook her head. Dad was right. Marcel should never have stolen that ring and then refused to return it. As a consequence they were now all in danger, the fight still raging in the skies over Happy Bays enough proof of that. The rain was still coming down in buckets, and of Mortdecai and Severin there was no trace apart from the occasional flash of lightning. She wondered what was going to happen to Virgil, Chief Whitehouse and the Numbers, who were still locked up in the Allard dungeons. And to Allard itself.
She looked up when her mother put her hand on her arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, honey,” she said softly. “Tabitha warned us never to divulge the secret of Bell’s, or else the magic would diminish in strength.”
“Is this why you were so dead set against this fran
chising thing?”
“Yes. You see, one of the stipulations Tabitha made when she met your grandfather for the first time was that Bell’s should always have a Bell at the helm. So no franchising, and no turning the store into a national chain.”
“I guess Allardians are no big fans of Walmartization, huh?”
“I guess not,” said Mom with a wistful smile.
“We were going to tell you eventually,” said Dad. “We were just waiting for the right moment.”
“It’s a little hard to explain that the store you’re about to take over was set up with the help of a princess from another realm,” explained Mom. “In fact when Pete first told me shortly after we were married, I didn’t believe him.”
“It does sound a little crazy,” Felicity admitted.
“Crazy but true,” Mom sighed. “And now it seems we were the cause of great hardship, while those nice Allardians brought us nothing but good.”
“We have to help them,” Alice said. “I mean, we can’t just stand idly by while their realm is being destroyed. What’s stopping this Mortdecai from destroying our realm next?”
“I think you’re right,” Rick added his voice to the fray. “We have to save Allard so we can save ourselves. It occurs to me that perhaps one reason our own realm is in so much trouble is because of the Mortdecais of this world.”
These were wise words, and Felicity took Rick’s hand and pressed it.
“Pity Reece isn’t here,” said Alice. “He’d be able to help as well.”
And even as she spoke these words, suddenly there was the sound of a helicopter cutting the air, and they all looked up. A bright light pierced the downpour and then suddenly the contours of a chopper could be seen. It deftly landed in front of Marcel Le Corbusier’s porch, and a man hopped out.
As quickly as it had landed, the chopper took off again, and Felicity watched with bated breath as the man came running toward them, holding up his jacket as protection against the violent storm and the chopper’s rotor wash. And then Alice cried, “It’s Reece!”
Moments later, the actor joined them on the porch, his dark hair dripping, his lopsided grin firmly in place, and his brown eyes raking the small gathering. “What’s going on here? Happy Bays town meeting?”
“Reece!” Alice cried again and threw herself in her fiancé’s arms.
“What did I miss, you guys?” he asked after he’d busied himself greeting Alice.
“But how…” Alice began, her eyes shining with excitement.
He shrugged. “I decided that the movie was not for me. Too much doom and gloom. So I took a private jet and then a chopper, and when I landed outside our place some of the neighbors said you were all gathered out here for some reason, so I had them fly me over. What’s going on? Is this a new Happy Bays custom? Gather around on someone’s porch for fun and food?”
“Hardly,” said Alice with a grin, and proceeded to fill her guy in on all that had happened. It was a long story but she told it succinctly and she told it well, and finally Reece whistled through his teeth.
“Wow, things are never boring in Happy Bays, huh?”
“Nope,” said Alice, well pleased he’d decided to return home sooner.
Reece pointed at Marcel, who’d listened with visible annoyance as Alice told the story of his betrayal. “So you’re the bad guy in this story, huh?”
“I’m just a man who took advantage of a great opportunity, Mr. Hudson. In fact you might say I’m a true American in that sense.”
“You’re a true asshole,” said Reece. “And if you don’t return that ring right now, I’m going to break my own rule never to beat up on pensioners.”
Marcel threw up his hands. “I don’t have it! Mortdecai took it. Didn’t you listen to the story?”
Reece directed a look skyward, wiping his wet hair from his brow as he did so. “Then we just have to take down this Mortdecai a notch.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” Rick asked. “The guy is like the devil or something.”
Reece grinned. Having just scuppered his boring space movie had been a real boost to his self-confidence, apparently, of which he’d always had plenty to begin with. “We’re Happy Baysians, Ricky. We will find a way.”
“You fools,” said Marcel, shaking his head. “Nobody can beat Mortdecai. Not even Severin Lobb.”
And as if to prove his ominous words, now a figure fell from the sky and landed with a dull and sickening thud in the muddy puddles in front of the porch. It was Severin, and the golden Allardian looked very dead indeed.
Chapter 24
Chazz had received the good news about Ricky from his lieutenants and was feeling right on top of the world again. And he was rubbing his hands gleefully when a thought struck him and struck him hard. Johnny and Jerry weren’t the brightest bulbs in God’s big bulb shop in the sky, or wherever the Creator had set up shop. Perhaps they’d simply misunderstood the message?
“Are you sure that’s what Ricky said?” he asked. It sounded too good to be true that that recalcitrant reporter son of his wouldn’t merely ditch his smear campaign but would actually come on board as part of his team.
“Yup, that’s what he said, boss,” said Johnny with an earnest nod as he petted Spot 2. The little doggie practically disappeared into the big guy’s coal shovel-sized hands. As a breed, Pomeranians perhaps aren’t the most fitting breed for men built along the lines of the Johnny Carews of this world, but the doggie did seem to appreciate the attention Johnny lavished on him, for a little pink tongue now stole out, and he tenderly licked the giant’s fingers.
“Did he say why?” asked Chazz. His son had been so adamant to nip his presidential ambitions in the bud this about-face seemed pretty unlikely, not to mention completely out of character.
“We had a long talk,” said Jerry seriously, “and made him see the light.”
“I think his mind was made up long before we talked to him,” said Johnny. “He said he’d decided to drop his deleterious campaign,” he added, surprising both Chazz and Jerry with his use of a big world like that.
“So my message to Fee must have worked,” said Chazz, licking his lips delightedly. “She must have told him no more rolling in the hay unless he caved. Brilliant, Jerry!” he cried. “A stroke of pure genius!”
“I do have my moments, boss,” said Jerry quite immodestly.
“I didn’t know they had hay in Happy Bays,” Johnny said.
“It’s just a figure of speech, you moron,” growled Jerry.
“Now that Ricky’s on board things are going to turn around for me,” Chazz said. “I can feel it in my bones, boys!” He got up from behind his desk, excitement making him restless. “Now if only I could get the rest of the gang behind me. Fee, Alice… that guy Reece Hudson.” He snapped his fingers. “I need Hudson, fellas. Big movie star like that? He can jumpstart my campaign and launch it into the stratosphere!”
“Why do you want Hudson, boss?” asked Jerry, who didn’t seem to be a big fan of that great old saying ‘The more the merrier.’
“Just think, you idiot. Reece will bring more of his ilk on board, and soon I’ll have Hollywood in my pocket. Remember how those stars all dressed up like Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump? Now imagine Channing Tatum or Alexander Skarsgård dressing up like me…”
His eyes were shining now, as he vividly imagined the scene. He didn’t notice, therefore, that Johnny and Jerry were imagining the same scene, their faces twisted in expressions of extreme agony. One Chazz Falcone was bad enough, their mugs seemed to indicate, but a world where the most handsome movie stars dressed up like the tubby billionaire was a pretty terrible world indeed.
“Great idea, boss,” Jerry finally managed to croak in a choky voice.
“Yeah, way to go, boss,” muttered Johnny.
“You know what I’ll do?”
“No, boss, what will you do?” asked Jerry, sounding more philosophical than he’d intended.
He struck the palm of his
hand with his fist. “I’m going over there myself right now. I’m going to convince Fee and Alice and that nincompoop actor boyfriend of hers to join my campaign. With the four of them and you guys there’s nothing we can’t accomplish.” His hands describing an arc across the sky, he said in the hushed tones of reverence, “Chazz Falcone. President of the United States of America. I can see it now already, boys. Can you see it?”
“We can see it, boss,” echoed the two goons.
And since he’d been studying a handbook on ‘Visualization, Affirmation And Other Great Secrets of Success,’ he knew that if he could imagine it, it was as if it was already true. He was actually going to become the next president! And with vigorous step, he stalked from the office, and left what he knew was a pumped-up, fired-up, hyped-up, fueled-up team behind.
The moment Chazz had left the building, Jerry turned to Johnny. “I don’t know if I like this, Johnny.”
“I don’t know either,” said Johnny. “What don’t you like, Jerry?”
“Those four idiots coming on board. They’re going to rain on our parade.”
Even though he knew big words like ‘deleterious,’ it was obvious this was one expression the big buy wasn’t familiar with, for he now stared out of the window, and said, “You’re right, Jer. We might have some rain tonight.”
“No, you moron,” he snapped. “I mean they’re going to cramp our style.”
Once again, Johnny was grasping at straws. “I didn’t know we had a style, Jer.”
“Can’t you see?! They’re going to muscle in on our territory! Upset the applecart! Steal our thunder! Piss on our bonfire! Crowd us out!”
Johnny eyed him curiously. “Are you feeling all right, Jer? You look like you’re about to blow a gasket. Flip your lid. Fly off the handle. Have a cow.”