by Sarah Noffke
“That you were going to get me locked in the father of time’s shop, where he’d wipe my memory and make me watch your murder?”
“Well, I never saw my death as a part of the equation. Honestly, we could have gotten out of the shop if you would have moved a bit faster.”
Liv gawked at him. “How dare you!”
“I dare.” Rudolf stuck the spoon into his cake, leaving it sticking straight up. “And quick thinking on using the shield to protect us. I’d say everything worked out perfectly.”
Liv tapped her fingers on the table, giving him an impatient stare.
“Okay, fine,” he admitted. “So your cape got a bit charred. I think I did you a favor. That thing is atrocious. You should finish burning it and go buy something short and see-through.” He whistled. “Yes, a Warrior dressed to impress would get the job done every time.”
“Dumbface, when are you going to address the real issue here?”
He gave her a blank stare. “Your lack of fashion sense isn’t the problem? I’m confused.”
“What’s the gem do?” Liv asked.
“Gem?” he asked, giving her his best confused look. “What gem?”
Liv sighed dramatically, forcing herself to take another bite although she wasn’t sure she could handle much more. The cake had been easily the size of her head when she started. Now it was more like the size of Plato’s head. The lynx had disappeared after obtaining the key, as usual.
“The gem you risked my memory and your life for,” Liv prompted.
“Oh, that.” Rudolf waved his napkin at her before wiping the side of this mouth. “That’s nothing. Just a little trinket I lost.”
“That my mother stole,” Liv corrected. “Have you simply been keeping me around for this mission?”
Rudolf lowered his chin and pursed his lips. “You’ll remember that you’re the one who asked for my help. Twice, I’ll add. You asked me to bring up the memory associated with the ring.”
“Which, by the way, I don’t trust in your possession, since it appears you have things stolen from you,” Liv said.
“By your mother,” he countered. “She’s the only one who has ever successfully stolen anything from me. A very clever magician, and so hot in—”
“Finish that sentence, and I will shove your face into your cake,” Liv threatened, cutting him off.
Rudolf nodded, believing the threat at once.
“The ring,” Liv began. “Could the memory be connected to when she stole the gem from you?”
He shook his head. “No. I remember that, and she wasn’t wearing it. The memory predates your mother. It’s…well, I can’t remember, which was the reason we made a deal.”
Liv remembered agreeing to get whatever it was that Rudolf wanted that was at the bottom of the fountain in the House of Seven. She didn’t look forward to battling what lived in the fountain to fulfill her end of the bargain, but she knew that unlocking those hidden memories was the key to learning the truth. It had to be.
“Why did you make me go with you to Papa Creola’s shop?”
Rudolf took a long sip of water. “Isn’t it obvious? I couldn’t have stepped foot in there, but you, as a Warrior for the House of Seven, can’t be turned away by the father of time. The House of Seven apparently made an agreement with Papa Creola at some point. I knew that much, but not the extent, which he disclosed to us.” As if a new thought had occurred to him, Rudolf’s eyes flitted to the side, lost. “Are you going to tell the Council that you discovered his location?”
Liv considered this and shook her head. “Not right now. I don’t see the point or the benefit, and then I have to explain a whole host of things, namely that I’m associating with a rude fae.”
He scoffed. “I’m not rude. I hardly ever call you names.”
“’Hardly ever?’” Liv questioned. “I didn’t know you did it at all.”
“Only behind your back,” Rudolf admitted.
“Why did the cases open when I touched them?” Liv asked.
“Oh, that one is easy,” Rudolf explained. “Again, that’s part of the agreement the House set up with Papa Creola. I wasn’t sure if I was right about it, but it was a chance I had to take.”
“So you could get this gem that does what, exactly?”
Rudolf folded his hands in his lap, giving her a calm expression. “That information will cost you. Do you want to be indebted to me for something else?”
“No, but I do want you to pay up on your end of the bargain.” Liv held out her hand as if expecting him to give her money. “Tell me how I get Queen Visa’s cooperation?”
“Wear something slutty,” Rudolf answered, not missing a beat.
Liv rolled her eyes. “No, this isn’t about how to give you what you want. It’s about Queen Visa.”
He rolled out his neck, stretching. “Yes, I know. And as I said, wear something slutty.”
“I don’t think so,” Liv replied.
“Well, if you want to make a good impression on the queen and her court, you better dress slutty. Actually, the sluttier, the better,” Rudolf imparted.
Liv pushed away from the table. “I risked my life and memory to help you, and in return, you tell me to dress provocatively? Have I mentioned lately that I’m looking forward to your funeral?”
He nodded as if he understood. “Yes, I get it. But the truth is that Queen Visa views the Warriors and Councils from the House of Seven as a bunch of uptight do-gooders. She loathes their conformity. If you want to make a good impression, you’ve got to set yourself apart from the rest, including the ones that she’s had dealings with in the past. Be bold. Stride into her chambers wearing something fabulous and smoking a pipe. Do the drugs she offers you, and make her laugh. Once you have her disarmed, offer her your immortal soul.”
Liv shot forward. “Wait, what?”
Rudolf held up his hands. “Well, even if you soften her up with a bit of cleavage, you don’t think she’s going to give you the agreement for nothing?”
“Well, why don’t I offer her a purple gemstone coveted by the father of time?” Liv asked.
Rudolf shook his head, his eyes frantic. “No, she won’t want that. And no one should know that I have this. It’s not a big deal. Silly, really. Actually, it’s super boring.”
“Yeah, you seem really bored right now.” Liv observed how his pupils had dilated and breathing intensified.
“You must have something the queen wants. Your soul, your mortality, maybe even your lynx.”
Liv threw herself back, gawking at the fae. “Are you insane? I’m not giving her Plato.”
“But your soul is on the table, is it?”
Liv shook her head. “No. I’m not giving her any of those things.”
“Well, suit yourself, but without a bartering piece and showing a bit of thigh, you’re going to get slaughtered. It’s your choice,” Rudolf said, eyeing his melting ice cream with disgust.
“What if I offer her something that only I have?” Liv said, formulating a plan as she spoke.
Rudolf’s brow furrowed. “She’s not interested in possessions. Queen Visa owns the entire Las Vegas Strip. She can have anything she desires.”
The passages Liv had read of the ancient language of the founders repeated in her head, reminding her of an advantage she might have. It also meshed with something she’d heard growing up, something her father had mentioned a few times. She wasn’t sure it would work, but she had to try.
Slapping her hand on the table, she made Rudolf jump. He still appeared to be a bit on edge after the ordeal in the shop. “I think I know what I can offer her.”
“Well, what is it?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.
“I’ll tell you, but first I have to go read a book.”
Rudolf shook his head. “No, you’ve misunderstood everything I’ve tried to tell you tonight. First, you need breast enhancements and stiletto heels. Queen Visa isn’t interested in anything you can find in a book.”
�
�I beg to differ,” Liv said, standing victoriously. “Knowledge is power, and that’s inevitably what she wants most.”
Chapter Fourteen
One of the main reasons Liv loved tinkering with electronics was that it always got her mind off her problems. From the start, the pain of the loss of her parents and her frustration had fallen away when she focused her attention on fixing something.
As she turned the alarm clock over in her hands, she appreciated that the fear of potential impending death wasn’t staring her in the face. Queen Visa and what she might or might not do to her was a distant idea that was almost boring to consider, like a rerun of an old television show.
“Oh, there you are,” John said, smiling at her as he bustled into the shop carrying a box full of broken devices. “I wasn’t sure if I’d see you today.”
Liv sighed. “Sorry that my schedule has been off lately. I plan on staying late tonight to make up for it.”
He pursed his lips as he slid the box onto the workbench. “You’ll do no such thing. There’s no reason for you to do that, and getting rest or doing whatever it is that you need to accomplish is just as important.”
“But, John, I don’t want you to think—”
“Shop is getting fumigated. End of discussion,” he said, cutting her off.
“No, it’s not,” she argued, looking around the nearly pristine store. The brownie who was cleaning it was doing an impeccable job.
“No, you’re right. It’s not. But it’s absolutely not necessary for you to stay late,” John stated. “The quality of your work is more than satisfactory, which means you get to work fewer hours. I can’t expect more efficient help to stay the same number of hours as someone who is inept and takes forever to fix a vacuum cleaner.”
“Well, you could,” Liv countered. “That’s the beauty of owning your own business. You get to do what you like.”
John sniffed the air around Liv, giving her a curious expression. “Do you sort of smell like a bonfire, or is that just me?”
Liv nodded. “Nope. I smell like I was roasted over a campfire. Sorry. It’s stuck in my clothes, but I plan to get new threads soon. Just have to get my younger sister to order me up some.”
“Sophia, you said her name was, right?” John asked.
Liv nodded affectionately. “She’s brilliant. You’d love her.”
“Well, I hope to meet her at some point, then. Maybe I can take y’all out for ice cream.”
Liv laughed. “That’s adorable. She’d probably like that, but I have to get clearance to take her out of the House of Seven, and I don’t even know how that works.”
He waved her off, sorting through the box. “No rush. Seems like you’ve got your hands full with nearly being roasted alive. Everything was all right after that, I’m guessing.”
Liv eased his worry with a nod. “Totally fine. It was just this gnome known as the father of time. He’s in retirement, now that he thinks he controls all things that alter time, but I’m thinking there have to be loopholes he’s missing. Poor guy looked like he needed a break. Maybe he feels marginalized in a world where the passing of time never changes. I’m not supposed to tell anyone about this, but you’re sort of different since you’re mortal and all. Anyway, that’s what I did last night. You?”
John thought for a moment. “I regrouted my bathroom. Wanted to test my skills on my own shower before trying it on yours and everyone else’s in the building.”
Liv smiled. John Carraway was what was right about the world. He was simple and pure and unconditionally thoughtful.
The door dinged as a customer entered, but immediately, Liv realized he wasn’t an actual customer. Their patrons didn’t wear three-piece suits and scrunched expressions or have their hair slicked back tightly or carry briefcases.
The guy who had entered the shop didn’t appear at ease as he strode through the front aisles, headed for their back workstation. As Clark had when he’d first entered the shop, he eyed the devices with repugnance. No, this wasn’t a man who came into an electronics shop to have his worn-out device fixed. He simply threw it away and bought a new one. Liv was certain of this.
Without asking permission, the man pushed many of the parts and wires on the workstation to the side, making room for his briefcase.
John didn’t grimace at this, although Liv did and nearly snapped at the stranger. However, she caught herself when John flashed her a look that said, “Be nice.” Being nice wasn’t something she was good at, but for John, she’d try.
“Are you Mr. Carraway?” the man asked John.
“No, I am,” Liv spouted, unable to control herself.
John smiled at her, offer the stranger his greasy hand. “Yes, I’m John Carraway. Call me John, please.”
“Thanks, John,” the man began, shaking his hand, but not looking too pleased about it. “My name is Wayne Grimson. I work for Usher and Usher law firm. You might have heard of us.”
“I haven’t,” John admitted at once.
Plato appeared beside Liv, jumping up on the worktable and eyeing the man.
Mr. Grimson paused, seemingly unnerved by the feline’s sudden appearance.
Pulling his attention back to John, he unbuckled his briefcase, opening it. “I’m here because I represent a client who has an interest in acquiring your shop for a new retail outlet.”
“It’s not for sale,” Liv said at once.
John shot her a look but nodded along. “She’s right. Although I appreciate the interest, the shop isn’t for sale.”
The man forced a conceited smile. “I misspoke, Mr. Carraway. My client is a very influential developer and has actually already acquired all of the shops on this block. Yours is the last, and it’s really only a matter of some paperwork.”
“Wait, you can’t do that. This shop belongs to John,” Liv argued, standing up and pushing her stool out behind her. The tools she’d been working with began to vibrate on the workbench, a result of her anger flaring up. She took a deep breath, and they settled.
The lawyer glanced at the tools, a curious expression on his face.
“It’s a tremor,” John said at once, covering for Liv. “And she’s right. I’m the legal owner of this shop. Had it almost thirty years.”
Mr. Grimson gave another disingenuous smile. “The thing is that the city of West Hollywood wants promising retail that nurtures the community, helping it evolve.” He looked around the shop with a disapproving glare. “I’m afraid that the planning commission doesn’t see this place as doing that.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Liv fired. “John’s shop is a staple of this community. We save citizens thousands of dollars by repairing their devices. No one gives back more than he does.”
Liv would have kept going but quieted down when John held up a hand.
“I don’t understand. The city planning commission can force me out?” John asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Wayne Grimson said, not looking at all apologetic. “There have been a series of petitions, and at this point, the commission has voted for you to sell to make way for other ventures they see as fitting their model better.”
“This is total bullshit,” Liv blurted, catching the revolted look in Plato’s eyes.
Mr. Grimson didn’t even glance at her, almost as if she were invisible.
“There has to be something I can do,” John argued, his voice cracking, and along with it, Liv’s heart. “Can’t I appeal to the commission? Or talk to your client? Maybe we can find a compromise.”
Mr. Grimson handed John a large envelope with a frown. “I’m afraid not. You have thirty days to vacate the shop, and after that period you’ll be paid a suitable amount for the property.”
“’Suitable?’” Liv argued. “How do you decide what is suitable?”
Again, he ignored her, keeping his eyes on John. “Please review that file and call my firm with any questions. I think you’ll find our offer more than fair. If you don’t, then we will have to take more sev
ere action.”
At the conclusion to his words, the lawyer turned and strode from the shop, arrogance in every single one of his movements.
Chapter Fifteen
The library wasn’t cooperating that day. Liv remembered frequenting mortal libraries the last several years. They were so easy. One walked right in there and did a search for a book, then went and found it. That simplicity didn’t exist at the House of Seven library.
The book Liv needed to locate apparently didn’t want to be found. There was no handy-dandy computer with search capabilities or a librarian who could help her find the book she was looking for. Honestly, she didn’t even know the title of the book, only that it must exist somewhere in the maze of the House’s library. And really, titles weren’t that important when searching. It was about putting out the right intention. That was the way Liv’s father always described trying to find a book in the library.
“When you think the right thoughts and stay attuned to them, the library will lead you in the right direction if it desires,” her father had often told her.
Liv really hoped it desired. Otherwise, her clever plan for dealing with Queen Visa was going to hell, all because a library didn’t want her to have that particular book.
“So he’s just going to give up?” Sophia asked. She was trailing behind Liv, pulling out books and adding them to her stack.
Liv sighed, closing her eyes and thinking intently of the book she needed. When she opened her eyes, her hand rested on a volume. Everyone in LA is an Asshole.
Liv grunted. Yes, they are, she thought, seething at the thought of that smug lawyer she wanted to put in a headlock. But that definitely wasn’t the book she was looking for. She continued searching, glancing back at Sophia.
“No, he says it’s not worth fighting them,” Liv explained. “He thinks it’s a sign that he needs to move on.”
“But how can he just let the shop go?” Sophia asked.
Liv didn’t have a good answer for that. She knew that the repair shop meant everything to John, yet one tiny conversation with an uptight lawyer and he was surrendering.