by W H Lock
Quinn said, “Really gives them the appearance of a genteel family with a dash of sinister."
"The family is a sponsor of the city’s Saint Patrick's Day Parade. After New York, it's the largest and most extravagant celebration of Irish heritage in the country."
"Bigger than Boston?" Quinn gave Nelson a look, not really believing the claim.
"Boston is only thirty percent Irish. Savannah is somewhere in the neighborhood of forty. In the smaller towns around the city that number is even higher."
"Huh," Quinn said. "I can't picture the Irish anywhere but Boston, New York, or Chicago. So, why are we playing Guess What with this guy’s house?"
"Because Mr. Gartrell here comes from a long line of magicians. They weren't major powers, but they used what skills they had to further enhance their wealth. I am sure you understand that."
Quinn nodded. Money was a subject near and dear to his heart.
"But for our purposes, we only need to know that Jeremiah Beauregard Gartrell the Fourth was an indifferent magician. His son, Jeremiah Beauregard Gartrell the Fifth is even more indifferent. Our boy spends most of his time and money on several passions but most notably he likes to collect magical artifacts. The heart of his collection is the Conquistador’s Dagger. Why do you think Gwen wants this one?"
"Two reasons." Quinn paused and continued, "Maybe three? Okay, yeah, three. Three reasons. This has been bleeding Central America from the jump. She already has Pizarro's Lantern. The Skull was kept at a house that was built like an Aztec temple. Or was it Mayan?" Quinn shook his head and continued, "And now this dagger shows up? That kind of resonance doesn't happen by accident. Sure the Japanese one looks cool and the Indian dagger is creepy, but that's the dagger that cut out the heart of an Aztec Emperor. When you run cons, stick to a theme. Random stuff won’t cut it. People have to believe in it, right? Aztecs are a good theme."
Nelson leaned back and ate a few peanuts. Crossed his legs propped one arm on the back of the bench. "You still think this is nothing more than an extended con?"
Quinn nodded.
"Where's the money in it?"
"What?"
"Kid, I've been at this job for twenty years. Cons are about one thing; money. Where's the money?"
Quinn shrugged. “Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
"Okay. If this is a con, how do you stop it?"
Quinn looked at the house and thought. He leaned back against the bench. He cocked one arm over the back and propped a foot on his knee. "I'll need a team. My people. I'll need a bankroll. These people don't work for free."
"You want me to pay you to steal something from what is ostensibly an honest citizen of the United States?" Nelson chuckled and shook his head. "That's not happening. You'll be a consultant on my local team. You'll give them the heads up--"
"Well, it was nice talking to you, Nelson. Good luck screwing up saving the world. You're on a fine path." Quinn brushed his hands off and stood.
"Sit your ass down, Quinn," Nelson said. "This is happening because of you, and you need to fix it. Taking your ball and going home isn't an option. You're not running around here with a crew and no supervision."
"Fine," Quinn said. "I still need a team. People who know what to do and how to do it. And they don't work for free. Stirring speeches about history and their place in it or how what they’re doing is for the good of the world will not move them. Either you pay for professionals or watch your agents screw this up."
"Okay, smart guy. You get a team, but I want one of mine on the inside. You don't cut them out of anything, got it?"
"As long as they can pull their weight, sure. I won't be able to cover up someone just standing around watching."
Nelson nodded and said, "Barnes, get up here."
A raven swooped in and roosted on the bench between the two men.
Quinn looked at the raven and then at Nelson. "You have a raven on staff? And you're a real government employee?"
"No, ass, the raven is a familiar," Nelson said.
A moment later a young woman walked to the bench. Her long hair was dyed an even shade of black on one side and deep purple on the other. She wore black leather with plenty of straps and buckles. Her black and purple makeup brought the goth woman home. She took it to the next level with two lip rings piercing her bottom lip. They had been inserted at an angle, so they looked like silver fangs protruding out over her lower lip. Her eyes were green as if they had been carved out from the purest jade stone found in the deepest and oldest mountains of China.
"Wow," was all Quinn could say.
"Whatever," the young woman said in response. The raven cawed raucously as if it were laughing.
"Witch?" Quinn eyed the raven.
“No, he’s a raven.” Barnes rolled her eyes. "What gave it away," she said with a sneer.
The raven laughed again.
"What’s your coven? I know Raphine Blackhearth from the Silver Circle."
"Good for you," Barnes said. "I’m Circle of the Moon. So I'm sure your friend's little circle is cute."
Quinn raised an eyebrow at her claim. The Circle of the Moon was the oldest and most powerful witch coven in the United States. "Nice," he said, "but that doesn't mean much. What do you bring? Besides a smartass raven?"
"Agent Emily Barnes. She's skilled at infiltration, observation, potion-work and she's fast with a wand," Nelson said. "But you will call her Corvina Shadowsdotter."
"How good can she be at infiltration? She makes Wednesday Adamms look like a California girl."
"You walked past me at the central fountain and didn't notice that I followed you the rest of the way, smart guy," she said.
"Okay, you've got a point there. Goth Queen in the south should have stood out, and I missed it. That’s on me. What's a witch doing working for the FBI?"
She shrugged and said, "What's an orphan doing running cheap scams on rich people?"
"Ouch," Quinn said.
"She's in every meeting. When a decision gets made, she's there. Nothing happens without her knowing, got it?"
Quinn nodded.
The raven laughed and stepped to Quinn's shoulder.
Chapter Six
Lyon, France
Quinn had never been to Lyon but he liked it. From the moment they'd walked out of the airport, Quinn sensed that the city existed because money wanted it to exist. The Romans had built the city after conquering Gaul. They needed a place to centralize the wealth they were taking out of the region. Things hadn't changed too much in the centuries since then. Lyon was still the banking center for France.
Quinn thought getting a raven through customs would be a hassle, but it was remarkably easy. Agent Barnes flashed paperwork, and they'd breezed right on through. It hadn't taken them long to get a car to drive to the Hippodrome in Lyon.
The Hippodrome had been built along the Jonage Canal. It anchored a family friendly zone filled with American fast-food restaurants, shopping, and an afternoon of watching horse races. The Hippodrome was connected to the outdoor shopping mall with a concrete walkway that passed over the city street.
Quinn and Barnes made it halfway across the walkway when the large glass doors on the other end flung open and Karen Lee walked out. She looked like an industrious and highly efficient personal assistant. She kept her eyes locked ahead as her feet pumped furiously to put as much distance behind her as she could.
On the other side of the glass doors behind Karen, several officers of the Police Nationale trotted along. They had serious looks on their faces and were holding batons in their hands.
"Quinn!" Karen said in obvious relief. "Oh, thank goodness you're here."
The police officers burst through the heavy glass doors. They pointed at Karen and blew their whistles.
Without a word, Quinn pulled Karen close in with him and Agent Barnes. He spoke and gestured to summon a Circle of Dyblygu and added the Rune of Anweledg. He held the circle up above his head and spun it
. When the circle had spun wide enough to cover the three of them, Quinn let it drop over their heads.
Perfect copies of Quinn, Karen, and Agent Barnes turned and ran away from the approaching police squad. Barnes looked around at the circle, nodded, and pulled out a wand. She whispered to herself and waved the wand in a spiraling pattern in front of the three of them. Where the wand passed, burning red lines followed. She ended in the middle, and the wand's tip glowed with a brilliant white-red light.
The police seemed to take no notice, but as they closed in on the three, they parted as if they were water cut by the bow of a ship. They flowed back together as they passed by the circle, still in hot pursuit of the images that Quinn created.
"Nice," Quinn said as the last officer went down the stairs. "What was that?"
"An aversion charm," Barnes said. "What's this?" She nodded to the glowing circle slowly turning around them.
"Invisibility with a layered duplication," Quinn said. "Pretty cool, huh?"
Barnes shrugged and said, "Meh. I've seen better."
Quinn rolled his eyes at Barnes and turned to Karen. He said, “Hey, I’ve got a thing that I’m put—“
Karen interrupted him and said, "Whatever, Quinn, I'm good for it. Let's go.”
"Are you sure? It could be--"
"Nope, let's go."
"I don't know, Karen, I mean, I don't want to pull you out of whatever it is you've got going on here. I mean, it looks epic," Quinn said with a grin.
"Look," Karen said. "All I have to say is that Kelpies are not reliable partners."
"Oh, I could have told you that," Quinn said. "Fae. Can't trust'em. Did it eat the other horses?"
Karen nodded and said, "Three horses. Right in front of the kids too." She shuddered.
"Ew," Barnes and Quinn said in unison. The three strolled across the walkway, down the escalator and to the waiting town car.
Karen nodded her head at Elly and said out the side of her mouth, "What's up with Wednesday Adamms here?"
Quinn choked on a laugh. Elly looked back at the pair.
Quinn said, “This is Corvina… you know, what? No. Just no. I can’t do that. This is Elly Barnes. You can call her Elly. She’s a witch from the Circle. You’re going to like her.”
Elly Barnes glared at Quinn for a moment about using her name instead of the cover name he’d been given. She let it go and gave Karen a curt professional nod. Karen nodded back.
Chapter Seven
Chicago, IL
Quinn loved the place as soon as he opened the door. From the outside, only a simple neon sign in the shape of a martini glass marked the location of the bar. Inside red leather couches ran the length of the bar on both sides. There weren't any chairs just red leather cubes that could act as seats or foot stools. It was underlit with red LED lights.
There was a fabulous karaoke stage at the end of the bar furthest from the entrance. The stage was only a half a foot off the ground. There was a large OLED screen on the wall behind the stage.
Quinn and Elly slid in through the crowd at the bar. The crowd was young and urban. They were out for a good conversation with friends over good drinks. Quinn grinned when he saw who was on the karaoke stage.
Fred and Eno pranced on stage singing to Pitbull and John Ryan's duet Fireball. Freddy, the eternal pasty white guy from the seventies handled the Pitbull sections of the song. Quinn noticed that he’d finally gotten rid of the dingy red white and blue head sweatbands on his wrists. Although he was still wearing the aviator shades, bell bottomed pants, and a button shirt that wasn’t buttoned all the way up.
Eno, the awkward Italian that anyone would describe as odd-looking, handled the John Ryan sections. The two of them strutted around on stage. Eno, by comparison, was dressed like a normal person. The vampire and the werewolf moved well together to Pitbull's upbeat horn section. They had clearly worked out some choreography ahead of time.
Elly joined a small group at the foot of the stage to cheer the two men on as they sang. She whoop-whooped at the right times in the song. Quinn signaled the bartender for a couple of house drinks and pointed at a nearby table. The one where Rube sat by himself. Rube looked out of place with the hip metro crowd wearing his blue jeans, Atlanta Falcons t-shirt, and work boots.
"Hey, Quinn," Rube said in his easy southern drawl. His mellow brown skin took on a maroon cast in the red lights of the bar. "I didn't expect to see you for a fair bit."
"Rube! So what happened to that Max Falcon car you were going to buy," Quinn said with a grin.
"Quinn," Rube shook his head and continued, "sometimes I think you get the car stuff so wrong on purpose to mess with me. And then other times I am sure you don't know the difference between limited slip differential and a four-wheeled drive."
Quinn scoffed at the idea. "I mean, who doesn't?"
The waitress slid the drinks Quinn had ordered onto the small table in between the two men.
"Oh yeah?" Rube clearly didn't believe him.
"Sure. One lets slip happen a little, and the other has four wheels so it happens even less."
"Yeah, sure, you nailed that one," Rube said. "What brings you to town?"
Quinn nodded at the stage, "Weren’t those two going to open up a detective agency?"
"Hell, they ain't had time to do that what with all the gallivanting they been doing together. I don't think they'd know what to do if they did start one."
Quinn watched the unlikely duo dance around on stage. After a moment, he said, “I’m surprised they’re not doing a Bee Gees.”
“Oh, that was earlier. It was Eno’s turn to pick the song. Hang out a bit and they’ll rotate back. I think Freddy said he wanted to do something from the Partridge Family. Whatever that is.”
Quinn nodded. "I've got a job in Savannah. You and the boys in?"
"Shit," Rube said. "The way you play, I might follow you straight to Hell, Quinn."
"Nah," Quinn said after a sip of his cocktail. "I've been to Hell. It's not worth the trip. Savannah, on the other hand, has nicer weather and sweeter tea."
"Damn well better. The tea here ain't worth the name and they don't put ketchup on their hotdogs, Quinn! Who eats a hotdog without ketchup? That ain't right." Rube took a sip from the Pabst Blue Ribbon beer in front of him. He nodded at the stage and said, "What's up with Wednesday Addams there?"
Chapter Eight
Palm Springs, CA
Quinn liked Palm Springs. The dry weather and scenic mountain surroundings made for a pleasant environment. But it was the two-mile aerial tramway that climbed the cliffs of the Chino Canyon that put the cherry on it for Quinn. The slow climb up the side of the canyon walls was both relaxing and breathtaking.
At the summit of the canyon, Quinn and Elly made their way past the natural history museum and two restaurants. On a concrete deck that thrust out over the canyon wall, a small group of retirement-age women sat in front of painting easels, each leaning out to the side from time to time and leaning back in to continue their work. They were painting, with varying degrees of skill, the mountainscape that surrounded them.
An older man moved between them. His beard and mustache were neatly trimmed and waxed to curling points. He wore pince-nez glasses with a lanyard clipped to his vest. Despite the rolled up sleeves, the older man was primly dressed in a grey vest, matching pants, and a white shirt with a bolo tie. The tie was held by an overly large gold broch with a jet stone in the middle.
He shuffled between the students, stopping to offer a shy word of encouragement. With a few of the students, he would linger a bit longer. His hand would rest on their shoulders for a moment or two more than other students. To these women, his smile was more knowing. He stopped when he saw Quinn and Elly standing at the top of the short flight of stairs.
Quinn tapped the side of his nose.
The older man turned to his students and shuffled to the front of the group. When they looked at him, he spoke with a soft voice in a lisping southern accent. "Excell
ent work today, everyone. You have all come so far. I am very proud of you. I will see you next time."
Quinn turned, winked at Elly, and strolled back to the cable car to catch the next one. They didn't have to wait long before the shuffling shy man joined them. He kept glancing furtively at Elly. Whenever she tried to meet his gaze, he looked away in a panic. She looked at the tram car and nodded at Quinn. Without a word to Max or Quinn, Elly walked away to wait by the cable car. Midnight swooped in and landed on her shoulder.
Once they were alone, Quinn said, “Max, it’s great to see you again. How’s Mother?”
The older man nodded and touched the gold and jet broach at his throat. “Oh, she’s much happier now. That locket was too small for her, just not very comfortable. Mother has always liked her comfort. She says hello and thank you for the flowers you sent on her birthday. That was very kind of you. I enjoyed smelling them for her.”
Quinn patted Max on the shoulder and nodded. “My pleasure, Max. Say, I need a few things copied. Can you help me out?”
“I don’t know, Quinn,” Max said. He looked down at his feet and kicked at the ground like a child unsure if his mother would let him come out to play. “Mother wants to know if we’ll be doing anything untoward. She doesn’t like it when my creations aren’t given their proper respect.”
“Nothing like that, Max. We’ll just be getting up to some mischief.” Quinn grinned and nodded at Max.
Max considered it for a moment and tucked the large gold locket back in his shirt. “Well, I do enjoy mischief. And as long as we’re not going to be hurting anyone, I’d be happy to oblige.” Max smiled like a devil offered a seat at a poker game.
As the two men walked towards the waiting tram car and Elly, Max whispered to Quinn, “She reminds me of Wednesday Addams. Did you ever read that comic? It was one of Mother’s favorites.”