by Jamie Davis
“Joey. No!” Winnie shouted, too late. The damage was done.
The constable rounded on the boy as another two Red Legs grabbed him from either side, lifting him up so that his legs dangled inches from the floor. The boy — Joey — fruitlessly struggled against his captors. Danny looked closer at the struggling youth. He looked familiar, though he couldn’t place where he had seen him before.
“Boy,” the constable said in an angry rumble, “you chanter scum are never to lay hands on me or my officers. I’ll have you stripped of your magic.”
“Now, Constable, there’s no need for that,” Danny said stepping forward. “I know my father would not like it if there were unnecessary acts of violence just before the difficult time that approaches at midnight.”
Constable Holmes looked confused, though Danny could see him taking in his attire and air of superiority: the newcomer didn’t belong here. Danny’s father had always taught him that if you assumed control and leadership in a difficult situation, others would accept that leadership.
“And who, may I ask, is your father?” The constable waved a hand at his officers and they lowered Joey so his feet rested back on the ground, though they didn’t let go of him.
“I’m Danny Barber. My father is Councilman Barber.”
Holmes paused. The room seemed to grow warmer. Then his mouth curled in what Danny thought of as a satisfied snarl. “I’m surprised to find you here, Master Barber. I didn’t expect you of all people to be here, especially at this hour.”
“I’m picking up one final gift for my father, while it’s still legal.” Danny held up the bag, wanting to shake it in the constable’s face. “While he is against magic use in general, no man can argue with a perfect shave. I’d hate to have an unlucky tale surrounding my purchase. Don’t you agree that would be unfortunate?”
The constable nodded and waved a hand at his officers. They released Joey, who stepped away rubbing his arms where the Red Legs had held him.
“Miss Durham, you have until midnight to comply with the initial portions of Resolution 84. I trust you close the shop on time without my intervention?”
Winnie nodded, and the constable continued.
“I’ll return in the morning to meet with you and go over your plan to transition your business according to the Resolution’s provisions. Shall we say nine a.m.?”
“That will be acceptable,” Winnie said. “Until then, Constable?”
The Red Leg leader nodded, gathered his men, then walked to the other end of the shop and left through the front door, followed by most of the remaining customers — scared, like most, by any confrontation with the Division of Human Safety.
The store was mostly empty when Danny broke the tension. “That was exciting. I suppose I should pay for this and be on my way.” He held up the shaving kit.
“Please, accept it as my gift for helping my cousin,” Winnie said. “I insist.”
“As you wish,” Danny said. “But I’ll have to come back and repay the favor.”
CHAPTER 4
Victor Holmes hissed as the razor blade nicked his neck on the upstroke. He pressed his finger against the growing red droplet of blood and glared at his reflection in the mirror. It would have been so easy to finally give in and purchase one of the ensorcelled razor blades long ago, but that would have shown frailty in the face of his belief. Magic was evil, and Victor knew that deep in his soul. No matter how harmless a charmed device or magical spell might seem, it scarred the user’s heart. He’d seen what casting Sable magic did to chanters over the course of their lives. If the darkest magic caused the wasting addiction to chanters and users alike, how could any magic be safe?
He tore off a bit of toilet paper from the roll behind him and applied it to the cut on his neck, sopping the blood until the flow stopped. The white square stood in stark contrast to his black skin, reminding him that he was not weak and would not succumb to the temptation and damnation that magic offered to those craven enough to use it. That was why he’d soared to the position of Constable in the Division of Human Safety. Director Nilrem Kane himself had pinned Victor’s new gold badge on his tunic during the ceremony. The Director practically was the magical temperance movement, and everything that Victor aspired to be.
The Director wouldn’t succumb to temptation, or resort to the use of charmed items in his home. He would hold himself to no lesser standard. Victor picked up a hand towel from the sink, wiped the remainder of the shaving cream away, then sprinkled some aftershave into his hand and applied the alcohol laced liquid to his face. He relished the burn as he applied it — yet another reminder that he refused to be owned by popular conventions.
Today was a glorious day. Resolution 84 was now in effect. Over the last fifty years, the series of Resolutions passed by the Assembly had taken power from the chanters, relegating them to second-class citizenship as their middling neighbors realized their dangerous position. Now, finally, the chanters had been put in their place. All magical trade was forbidden. The land could heal so that the United Americas would never become the uncivilized wasteland that had claimed so much of the world.
Director Kane as the head of the Department of Magical Containment had realized the value in the temperance movement. They had won, and now, Victor’s heart swelled with pride for being a part of that as he enforced Resolutions on the chanter community.
Now he could start his real work and root out the Sable trade. No more would he have to deal with distractions from the small magical vendors who had previously been allowed to ply their trade. He could focus on chanter leaders in Baltimore like Artos Merrilyn, who skirted the law and used their positions of power to sell forbidden magic to the highest bidder.
Merrilyn was the ultimate target. He had friends in high places and had been untouchable before the Resolution’s passage. Now he was just another mender, a magical healer who treated those who had become addicted to the use of dark magic sold by the Sable traders. Everyone knew Merrilyn was behind the Sable trade in Baltimore and beyond. It gouged at Victor’s sense of honor that everyone turned a blind eye to what he represented.
As leader of the city’s Chanter Enclave, he controlled the only legal use of magic left to the world. The magically maintained buildings and structures at the heart of the city still relied on the accursed magical power to function. Even the plumbing and air-conditioning in the skyscrapers was enhanced by magically fashioned pumps and blowers. Until they could divest themselves from magic entirely, middlings controlling the city and country required chanters to maintain their livelihoods and public works.
Which was why it was important to pull Artos Merrilyn down from his high perch in the city’s leadership. Merrilyn controlled the chanters. If he said they shouldn’t go to work one day, then they stayed home. The city’s financial centers, hospitals, even the Red Legs’ own headquarters building all depended on chanter magic to function. Yet another abomination tolerated in the name of civilization. Artos Merrilyn held sway over the city through his powerful position.
Victor growled, thinking about him. He couldn’t let that smiling chanter leader get under his skin. Soon, Merrilyn’s world would come tumbling down. Victor would see to it.
In the meantime, he had other business. This was a happy day for his Red Legs. They would shutter the shops and businesses around the city that had once sold magic openly. Now they would have to compete for sales like their middling neighbors.
Victor would start first thing this morning by making an example of that girl who owned Charmed.
He was still angry at the way the Barber boy had dressed him down in front of her the night before. He’d had been forced to back down in front of his men. It had been humiliating. He couldn’t touch the Barbers. They were leaders of the Baltimore Temperance Movement. Drawing attention to their son’s presence in a magic shop would embarrass them and draw their ire. Vance Barber, the boy’s father, was a personal friend of Director Kane. It would be political suicide to vent his ang
er there.
The girl was a much easier target.
Victor slipped on his navy-blue tunic and buttoned it, making sure each of the brass buttons was polished and bright against the dark blue on his chest. He settled in front of the mirror once more to make sure that everything was perfect. He reached up and flicked the white square of tissue away from his neck. The bleeding had stopped. With a final nod of approval, Victor turned and left his apartment for headquarters, where he would address his men and women and explain the day’s assignments.
At headquarters, after he sent the men out to their duties, he and the two officers assigned to accompany him got in their car and drove toward the Chanter Enclave. He had an appointment to keep.
The men had brought their recently acquired flow cameras — a new technology that operated using a spectrum of light that usually only chanters could see. The cameras had a pistol grip with a small four-inch color view screen mounted above it. The lens extended beyond the screen, pointing forward so the operator holding the grip could aim the lens at any object and see it if was surrounded by a magical field.
The new technology was integral to the Department’s ability to root out illegal magical items. WORM cameras, or Weave Optics for Recognition of Magic, could also see the flows of active magic cast by a chanter if the camera was close enough. There had even been talk of installing security cameras with the new functionality around the city to catch Sable traders selling their forbidden dark magic on the streets.
Today would be the first day he and his Red Legs would get to use the new devices. Victor was looking forward to seeing them in action. Traffic was heavy, but the officer driving the marked Red Legs car navigated her way through town towards the Enclave without incident. Traffic lights served their purpose, managing the lanes of cars with their magically enhanced sensors and communicating with every other traffic light in the city to keep gridlock from forming. A necessary evil, at least for the time being.
They soon arrived at the Enclave’s outskirts. The driver pulled up to the curb in front of the small shop — their first stop that morning. Victor glanced at his watch. It was exactly nine a.m. He stepped out, waited for his officers to join him, then looked at the man and woman standing beside him.
“When we get inside, I will have a talk with the owner. Use the new WORM cameras to identify and tag all items that are enchanted in any way. Understood?”
“Yes, Constable Holmes,” they replied as one.
Victor wouldn’t let his smile show, but he was pleased with their discipline and deference to his position. “Very well. Follow me.”
He turned and led his officers into the shop. Like always, there was work to do.
His first impression was that a wind storm had swept through the small store’s chaotic aisles. The shelves were mostly bare. His officers wouldn’t have much to catalog this morning, at least not in front of the store. He would make sure they were thorough in their search of the rear storage areas, though. Surely this chanter, like others of her ilk, was a criminal at heart and would have a hiding place to store her Sable items, keeping them from the eyes of casual buyers and Red Leg inspectors. Victor would like nothing more than to lock Miss Winnie Durham up for illegal trade of harmful magics. An example must be made.
Victor looked up as Winnie emerged from the rear, then stood behind the counter next to the cash register. He fixed her with his best investigator’s stare and crossed the room.
“Miss Durham, I see you sold most of your merchandise last night. It saddens me that so many of our citizens are enamored with cursed trinkets and utensils.”
“It was a successful going-out-of-business sale, if such things can be called successful. I made sure that all remaining items in this store are arranged on the shelves for your men to catalog, per your department’s instructions.”
Victor looked around again, then back at Miss Durham. “I’ll be the judge of whether or not you left everything in plain view as required by law.” He turned to his officers and pointed to the empty shelves. “Start over there and check every single thing in this store that isn’t nailed down. Be sure to look for hidden spaces; I’m sure this place is full of them.”
Winnie sighed.
Victor turned his glare on her. “You take offense?”
“I have nothing to hide, Constable. I assure you, there is nothing left in this store for you to find.”
Victor shook his head and pointed to the far end of the counter. “We’ll see. Stand over there and don’t interfere. I will check in the back while we wait for inventory out here.”
He walked through the door behind the counter to a small store room with empty shelves from floor to ceiling on the back wall, and a small roll top desk and chair to his left next to another door. Victor nudged the chair away from the desk with a booted toe then reached over to sort through loose papers on the desk. They appeared to be ordinary items of mail and notes. After a more thorough search of the desk, he stepped away, disappointed to find nothing incriminating.
He walked over and opened the door to a short, narrow hallway. A brief search revealed a small bathroom with a sink and toilet at one end of the hallway, and a locked door with a deadbolt and chain lock at the other. The open door led to the alley behind the store and a cluster of garbage cans. Finding nothing unusual, Victor walked back down the hallway tapping on wood-paneled walls, listening for signs of hidden openings or loose boards. Dammit. She had to be hiding something. They always had something to hide.
He was still searching for a hidden room when the female Red Leg officer appeared in the storeroom doorway, standing at full attention.
“The inventory is complete, sir. The only magically enhanced items we can find are on the shelves out front. Miss Durham has helpfully provided us with a box we can use to remove them from the premises.”
“Do not consider anything she does as helpful, Officer Bannon. That woman is a chanter. They are, by nature, untrustworthy. Never forget that.”
“Yes, sir.”
Victor was pleased to see her apparent embarrassment. Perhaps some education on the dangers and harmful effects of Sable addiction on the human body was in order. He’d have to tell his sergeant to arrange it.
He pushed the chastened officer out of the way and returned to the front of the store. There, he found his other Red Leg standing by the counter, holding a large cardboard box packed with the shelves’ few remaining items.
“Miss Durham, in addition to providing us access to inventory and confiscating your unsold merchandise, you are also required to provide me with a plan to reorganize your business so that it may legally contribute to the economy. Is your plan ready?”
“I was under the impression from my reading of the provisions in Resolution 84 that I would have thirty days to provide such a business plan.”
“Technically, yes, but it is within my power to determine if you possess the wherewithal and business acumen to successfully transition and become a contributing member of society.”
“Please, Constable. I assure you that I will have a viable plan before the end of the month. My mother and I are already discussing how we might transition the shop. Please give me the time to organize my resources and get you the information you request.”
Victor walked around the counter, looking around the empty store, then turned to face Winnie across the counter. “I’m doubtful you will be able to satisfy me or the board of examiners with anything you might come up with in the next few weeks. Still, the law allows you thirty days to present your next unsuccessful venture to me. And we are nothing without the law, are we, Miss Durham?”
The young woman shook her head, though she still didn’t show proper deference to his authority, meeting his gaze with her striking hazel eyes, unflinching. Victor was sure that there would be time in the coming weeks to knock away some of her insolence.
He gestured to the two officers. “Take that contraband to the car and notify headquarters that we’re moving on to the next
location. We have to have all the collected magic items back to Headquarters for loading in the transport trailers there. I’ll be out shortly.”
He waited for the officers to leave, then turned back to Winnie.
“Miss Durham. I might seem harsh in my assessment of your chances now that your shop has closed. It may be that there is an opportunity to secure extra funds for you and your mother if you were to provide me with the occasional nugget of information, helping me to see where other chanters might be operating outside the law.”
Winnie started to respond, but Victor held up a hand.
“I don’t need your answer now. Understand, there will be those who will enter the Sable trade and run charms to people who cannot or will not do without magic despite Resolution 84. This black market will be broken eventually, but it can be felled sooner if someone like yourself were to do the right thing. I assure you, the department will pay well for any verifiable information. Think about it.”
Victor turned and walked away, his back to Winnie, dismissing her. He doubted she would take him up on his offer — she was a chanter, after all — but he’d been instructed by Director Kane to make it to all on his list on the outside chance that some might respond favorably.
He opened the door and stepped out into the morning sun, relishing its light and warmth after his time inside amid the magical darkness of that Godforsaken store.
CHAPTER 5
Winnie let her shoulders sag, finally venting a sigh when Constable Holmes left her shop. She put up a brave front and showed a confidence she didn’t really have when he was there, but now that she was alone again, the ugly doubts crept in to keep her darkest thoughts company. Her mind was frantic with questions as she looked around the empty store.
She’d closed the shop last night after her best day of business ever. Of course, it had also been the final day, unless she and her mother could conjure a new business plan to justify keeping the merchant’s license from the city, and make enough rent to keep the store open. There was nothing magical left. They’d even taken the small brass bell on the wall by the counter, charmed to ring whenever the shop door opened, announcing a new customer.