Equinox (Augarten Book 1)

by Charlie Godwyne

  I clapped a hand on his shoulder, my prior worries gone. "Best day ever."

  Our last stop of the day was to the national art museum at Museumsquartier. Solomon and I walked through room after room of exquisite paintings from the past, the whole place devoid of modern art of any sort. Sometimes entire rooms held the same painting, replicated over and over by different masters and students of masters, fully content to spend years copying a work of art rather than focus on something original. Solomon explained additional background to many of the stories depicted, since they were often from the Bible.

  Then we walked into a large room, and although I had never seen the angel depicted before, I immediately knew him. I froze just past the doorway, rendered immobile as an invisible hand reached into my chest and touched something that went deeper than my amnesia, something so core to me that I carried it with me from life to life, no matter what.

  Solomon turned. "This is the Archangel Michael, challenging Lucifer."

  From one painting to the next, the fire in the angel's eyes burned within me, such a torrent of emotions that I could not make sense of it. Why would such a terrifying creature with seven sets of wings, such a powerful person depicted as showing no mercy to the wicked, summon a bone-deep longing within me? Did I know him? Did he know me?

  "This is the Michael, right? The archangel whom Florian prays to?"

  "Yes," Solomon said softly. "He is the reason Florian and Ian cannot be in the same room together. Florian understandably does not want to lose contact with Michael, and Ian for whatever reason has been cut off."

  Just hearing those words hurt, even though I had already known their truth. "Ian told me that the reason Florian's Welsh gods will not listen to my prayers is the same reason I should not try to contact Michael."

  "What reason is that?" Solomon whispered, those icy blue eyes looking upon me with grace.

  I shook my head, completely lost. "How many men do you know that were grown from trees, Solomon? My only guess is that this archangel and the gods think that the mercy Augarten has shown me was wrong."

  Solomon took my hand, right there in the middle of a room full of tourists. "You being here is not wrong, Gabriel. You are one of the greatest blessings I have ever received."

  That caught me by surprise, and my eyes burned. "Thank you."

  My best friend smiled at me, and we shared a silent moment amid the chaos, just the two of us. Then he let go of me, fishing out his phone. "A missed call from Andrea at Augarten."

  We went into the hallway so Solomon could listen to the voicemail. He gasped. "Gabriel. She says the Buchingers called and want to take you on as an apprentice."

  I gaped.

  Then he grimaced. "Unpaid, it seems."

  "I'll get to bind books, Solomon. A bibliophile like me…Mr. Buchinger knows he's got me by the balls."

  He chuckled. "Congratulations."

  I took his hand and tugged him along, wanting to return to the room filled with Michael. "Can we pray together tonight, now that I'm back?"

  Solomon smiled. "Sure."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A few days later, Andrea and I were just finishing processing an order of new jar lids when Maria called from the garden entrance. "Gabriel! You have two very special messengers here to see you!"

  Andrea and I shared a look, then she shooed me off. "We were done here anyway."

  At the garden entrance stood a girl of about age ten and a little boy of about five. Both were dressed in the uniforms for the Jewish school down the street, the girl in a blue skirt ensemble with a navy sweater and stockings and a white flower headband, the little boy in his black overcoat and long pants, his requisite side curls a bright red. Maria beamed at me and waved from a distance.

  I addressed the children. "My name is Gabriel. What can I do for you?"

  The girl patted the little boy's shoulder and nodded encouragingly. He screwed up his face as if trying to remember something. "Our grandfather sent us to relay a message to…um…"

  "To Mister Gabriel Saint Leopold at Augarten," the sister supplied, then nodded at him again.

  The little boy rushed to jump in again, as if his older sister might take over and do everything for him. "And he sent us to relay a message on behalf of the…um…"

  "The master brewer," she said, "of the Schöner Himmel."

  I smiled. Leave it to Florian to send such a fantastic duo of messengers.

  "Yes!" The boy bounced on his feet. "Due to the electricity going out, he requests your assistance."

  "If?" she prompted.

  He glanced at his sister in confusion, then gasped as he remembered. "If you're available."

  I bowed to them. "Thank you for that message. Please tell the master brewer I will depart Augarten and report to the Schöner Himmel soon."

  They both smiled and waved, then hopped on their scooters and zoomed back out of the park. I wondered which of the frequent customers of Florian's their grandfather was. After confirming with Andrea that I could afford to leave for a few hours, I changed into my suit and walked over to the Schöner Himmel.

  Indeed, the electricity seemed to be out in all the shops along the way, though the trams were still running. I had not noticed while working with Andrea, because the lounge at Augarten had great natural light during the day, and we thus never needed the lights on. Most places had simply shut down, with handwritten signs posted that they did not have electricity and thus had to close. A pity, considering it was a Saturday and usually a good day for business.

  In contrast, I turned the corner to find the Schöner Himmel positively hopping. Once I made it inside, an elderly Orthodox gentleman nodded and waved from across the shop with his grandchildren at the table with him, and I returned the greeting.

  Solomon sat at the bar in his cassock and robe, drinking a coffee. He noticed me first. "The phones are down. My cell still has charge, but Florian and Augarten have only landlines."

  "Sorry. We were working in the lounge, anyway, so we wouldn't have heard you call. What's going on?"

  He smirked and tilted his head toward the back counter.

  Florian whipped around, a latte in each hand. A young woman waiting at the counter took them, then Florian turned to me, his eyes twinkling with delight. "One of these things is not like the other—care to guess?"

  Solomon chuckled, shaking his head with amusement.

  I scrambled to figure out why my lover was so happy. "You've got a lot of business—but isn't the electricity out?"

  "It sure is," he said with a delight I could not explain. "Guess who retrofitted his coffee shop years ago to not rely upon electricity? Sure, refrigeration is down, which means I'm selling milk-based drinks at the same price as regular espresso before it spoils, but I'm also the only place open on this side of the canal, and here's the kicker: I've heard Schwedenplatz has gone down, too. All those tourists unable to get their multinational chain burnt coffee and tasteless, previously frozen bread. This is a huge opportunity for me, Gabriel."

  Indeed, I scanned the shop, and the children had been given the tasks of turning everything that had a crank: the fans, for one. Though it was wintertime, so many people in one place meant things were heating up. That, and everything behind Florian's counter was operating just as usual—I had never noticed that none of it relied upon the grid. The only things out of place were the small fridge and freezer under his back counter, both of which had their doors open and towels placed to mop up the water.

  "What can I do?"

  Florian grinned. "Take the trailer across the canal. The battery is charged, then there's a propane tank once that drains. Everything else besides the steam generation is mechanical. Sell all the espresso you can, and tell people where we are, just across the bridge if they want a place to sit down and eat something."

  Then he turned to Solomon. "Will you go with him? The trailer has two crates of espresso cups, no paper disposables. You can disconnect the bicycle and bring the dirty cups back here. I'll h
ave new crates ready for you."

  Solomon froze, then looked down at his clothing. "I'll have to run home and change."

  "The monastery is just past Schwedenplatz, right?" I mused. "You can ride on the back of the bike with me."

  Solomon looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "Sure. Sitting on the back of a merchant's bicycle, my priestly robes billowing in the wind. That won't get me in any trouble at all."

  Florian pinched his chin, thinking quickly. "How about this: Gabriel, run upstairs and help Solomon find something of mine that fits. Would that work?"

  Solomon clearly didn't like the idea, but I was already grabbing his hand and pulling him out of his seat. It took a few minutes to find something that would fit. Solomon's shoulders were a bit wider, but Florian's trousers seemed the right size. When he stepped out of the bedroom fully dressed, his robes folded on Florian's writing desk, I had the strangest urge to hug him. To see Solomon, my best friend whom I adored, but to have him smell like Florian, my lover, was a confusing array of sensations I did not know how to deal with.

  "What's wrong?" Solomon asked. "Does this look passable, at least?"

  I shook my head to clear it of where those thoughts might lead. "Looks great. Let's go."

  Florian had the bike trailer already out and ready to go. I took the driver's seat, with Solomon balanced on the rack over the back tire. With Solomon's weight and that of the trailer, it was slow going on the bike. My thighs burned, and the rise of the arc of the bridge over the canal nearly did me in. Panting, I glanced over my shoulder to see Solomon crossing himself and kissing his crucifix as we passed the statue of the Holy Mother, and that somehow gave me the strength for the last push to the height of the bridge, and then we were there.

  The trams were running here too, and the tour buses still lined up at the pull-off spot on the ring, but otherwise everything was closed, and the tourists wandering down from Saint Stephen's were looking around as if lost.

  "Perfect," Solomon whispered, and I smirked because he sounded like Florian.

  We set up right beside the park benches that stood across the tram tracks from the tour bus pull-off. Solomon helped me unhook the trailer, and soon we were ready for business. He was distinctly unwilling to do anything other than assist, claiming that was pushing the boundaries of his vows against selling services, so I stepped up and did the hawking, switching to English. "Espresso! Two Euros! Cash only, please!"

  A group began to form around us, and I recognized that with the tourists, there would be no uniform cultural consensus regarding the queue. I ushered those ready to pay toward me. The problem immediately became inadequate change in the till, since Florian understandably did not keep his mechanical register loaded with cash, and the tourists for the most part only had fifty and one hundred Euro notes. Chaos ensued, and I beckoned to the stragglers who stood at the back looking confused, not in any tour group but who seemed to at least have coins or five Euro notes on them.

  Finally, an old man stepped out of the tour group and brandished a fifty Euro note in my direction. I held my hands up in apology and tried to figure out if he didn't understand my explanation. Then he waved the bill at the group behind him and proudly declared "All of us!"

  The crowd cheered.

  I took the fifty and turned to Solomon. "Can you do twenty-five shots?"

  He nodded. "I'll keep track."

  I scanned the crowd. "If there's twenty-six of them, I wouldn't worry about the last one."

  "Got it."

  Solomon pulled the shots one after the other while I kept hawking and made sure people returned the cups to the empty crate afterwards. Unfortunately for me, my three-piece tailored suit alongside the old mechanical bicycle trailer must have proven strange enough that some tourists began taking my picture without permission. I had no desire to find my face on the internet, not that I would bother looking. If the police could not find me, I had no misconceptions that getting pasted all over social media might turn out to be anything but a nuisance.

  "Kein Foto, Bitte! No photos, please."

  After only twenty minutes, we were already in need of more cups. Solomon loaded the crates onto the back of the bicycle and tied them down, then gave me a quick salute. "I'll be right back."

  I coughed, already going hoarse. "Thanks."

  He hesitated. "Are you okay? You look pale."

  I waved him on. "Get out of here."

  I ran through the last twenty cups in no time, but thankfully, families were content to have me recycle one cup for all of them. I promised my partner would be back soon with more cups, and by the time Solomon got back, another group of about fifteen were waiting for him.

  He set the crates down and got back on the bike, then fished in one of the cup holders and held a closed jar full of water out to me. "Florian said he would have the last batch washed by the time I got back to him. Can you hang on until the next changeover? Then you can go and run to the john at the Schöner Himmel."

  I chugged the water gratefully, then realized yes, I would need a bathroom break at some point. That, and I was ravenous. "Okay."

  Solomon winked at me and I smiled back. Then he took off back over the bridge. I unloaded the cups and got back to work.

  Some of the tourists explained to me that this was their assigned waiting area for the shuttle that would take them back to their boat on the river, a Danube cruise from Amsterdam to Vienna. A steady flow of tour groups kept me busy, and between, young people climbed the stairs out of the canal once word got around there was espresso to be had in addition to the bicycle beer salesmen who rode along the canal ringing their bells. They took some convincing to not walk away with Florian's cups, since the whole point was to leisurely drink and chill while watching the Danube, but once I explained, most everyone was a good sport about it.

  Solomon returned and helped me burn through the crates of cups. Once we were on our last crate, I loaded up the bicycle and pedaled like the wind over to the Schöner Himmel.

  Florian was working like a madman, a manic determination mixed with eagerness and glee.

  "Gabriel," he said, pushing a huge cloth bag at me. "These are Leberkäse on Semmel. The butcher down the street lost his freezers and his backup generator isn't working. He's smoking everything as fast as he can, and I'm buying what he has to get rid of. Sell these as a combination of sandwich and espresso shot for five Euros. If we have to move up to selling his steaks—heavens above that'll be such a waste—we'll increase the price and you'll have to convince people to pay it. Selling a steak sandwich for anything less than eight Euros would be a crime. You could do a shot and sandwich for ten Euros, in that case. If families are ordering, throw in an extra shot if they get to fifteen Euros or more."

  I calmly put my hands on his shoulders. "Take a breath with me."

  "What?" he seemed to not hear me, but finally relented when I insisted on counting the inhalations and exhalations out for him. We took four deep breaths that way, and he seemed to relax a bit.

  "I love you," I said softly, under the din of so many people chatting. "This is a wonderful opportunity for you, but none of it is worth it if you end up with high blood pressure. Are we in agreement?"

  He nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry, I'm just excited."

  I touched the side of his neck, wishing I could cup his cheek and kiss him. "And understandably so. I just want you to keep chill so the adrenaline doesn't win the day in a landslide."

  Florian smiled. "Okay. Promise." Then his expression became concerned. "Are you feeling okay? You look like you're about to faint."

  This again. "I'm fine. Thanks for the food."

  He mouthed my favorite words in the world: Love you.

  I mouthed them back. Love you too.

  Back at the canal, we sold the bag of sandwiches in the same amount of time it took to burn through the cups, by my watch, about forty-five minutes. Solomon took the trip this time—he needed the break from people more than I did—with explicit instructions to make su
re Florian breathed with him a few times. I wondered how that would go over.

  At 5PM, as the sky was nearing dark, Florian sent Solomon back with decaf beans, and we switched the machine over and transferred to the canal, since the tour groups were done for the night. By then, I was nearly dead on my feet, even though I'd taken the chance to inhale one of the sandwiches. Some of the butcher's steaks ended up needing to be sold, so we changed the pricing and managed to sell what we had. I offered an extra espresso shot and Semmel roll to compensate for the change in price, though a few of those watching the sunset at the canal complained that a steak sandwich was too heavy. I pushed my irritation aside and struck the bargain—some Viennese would complain about anything.

  Business dropped off the further after sunset we got, everyone switching over to beer instead. Solomon and I finally left the river and took a moment to unwind.

  I held my arms open, and he stepped into them. This was our first hug, but despite all the excitement of the day, the feel of his chest and shoulders and arms had my heart picking up its pace. "Thank you."

  Solomon nodded against me. "No way could either one of us have done all that alone."

  "You're right. No way."

  We separated, but just as I was about to mount the bike, Solomon stopped me with a hand on my arm. "Just a second…can I talk to you?"

  I blinked in surprise. "Sure? Don't you want to get back to the shop first?" I ached to sit down and eat.

  Solomon flushed a deep red, up to his ears. "I want to speak with you privately about something."

  "Oh…okay."

  Me pushing the bike trailer, we walked a ways out from the canal and back into the second district, then pulled over at an office building that was completely closed from the electricity outage. Solomon leaned against one of the guard rails on the sidewalk and seemed troubled, so I waited him out to hear what he had to say.