by Les Goodrich
“Yeah girl!”
“Awesome,” Brit smiled and they laughed.
Before Jordan left the three of them talked more and they talked about the painting and the Fomorian and Shadowclan and they considered many things and each one added what they knew or thought.
On Monday Brit had classes until two p.m. and Tanner opened. Carol came in at ten to do a few things and help him and Jordan came in at noon to close. Brit was scheduled to come in at three p.m. when Carol and Tanner planned to leave. Brit backed through the door wearing her backpack and carrying a flat white box of the type that a shirt would come in.
“Hi Brit,” Tanner said counting his drawer and Jordan looked up from helping a professional looking woman in the back.
“Hi Brit,” Jordan said and the customer also said, “Hi Brit,” in a playful way although she did not know any of them by name.
“Hi Avalon Spellshop. Look what I brought,” Brit said and she placed the box on the glass counter on the end near the wand case. She removed the box lid. “Cookies from the bakery next door.”
“Wow thank you,” Tanner said reaching into the box for one. Jordan moved to the front with the customer and Brit said, “Help yourself,” more to the customer because Jordan would need no such invitation.
“Did someone say cookies?” Carol said on her way up from the back and everyone ate one from the three kinds in the box. Jordan looked to a flash in the visitor spell mirror.
“Brenna!” she said and the customer looked to her but thought nothing of it and Jordan said, “Oh nothing. Yum.”
Brenna opened the door in a monochrome outfit of pants, blouse, shawl, purse, and umbrella all of a matching bright solid red. She pushed her white sunglasses up onto her head.
“Hello dears,” she said propping her umbrella in the doorway corner then turned and added, “Hello Carol,” as Carol slid up to get a cookie.
“Cookie?” Carol offered Brenna.
“Oh I shouldn’t,” she said but peered into the box anyway.
“Brit brought them for us from the bakery next door,” Tanner said between bites.
“Oh, well, maybe just one,” Brenna said and she picked out a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie and Tanner handed her a paper towel from the desk and left the roll on the counter for easy reach.
The customer finished her cookie and paid for a book on mindfulness she had found with Jordan's help by an author that the customer’s friend had recommended.
“All of you are so nice. This little store just made my day,” she said.
“Please come again,” Carol said and Tanner put a bookmark into her bag.
“I make these,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said and was gone.
Brenna browsed through the shop for a good while then left saying she would be back before the weekend.
With the store empty Carol gathered her things and got ready to leave for the day. Tanner was ready as well but he rounded up the girls so they could all talk to Carol before she headed out.
“We want to talk to you before you go,” Tanner said.
“Oh?” Carol said.
“Yeah, just real fast,” Jordan said and Brit nodded.
Carol put her bag back down and the shop crew looked to one another.
“We want to go after the painting and get it before The Poison Apple does,” Jordan said and the others nodded and Carol looked at them.
“You do?” Carol said.
“Yeah. We talked about it already. We want to try to get it,” Tanner said.
“And the book,” Brit added.
“Yeah, and the book,” Tanner agreed.
“And the book?” Carol asked.
“We figure we need the book to interpret the painting,” Jordan chipped in.
“I see,” Carol said thoughtfully. “How do you guys plan to do this exactly? And let’s say we can find these things and get them away from the people who have them. What happens when Shadowclan know we’ve got it? What then?”
“We get it without them knowing it was us. We make them think the Fomorians stole it. Or other pirates,” Jordan said.
“Yeah,” Brit added and Carol looked from Jordan to Brit.
“How?” Carol asked again.
“We don’t know how. But we’re working on it,” Tanner said. “Maybe your ghostfriend can help us. But we have to move quickly. We have to get it before The Poison Apple does. That’s the key. We have to throw them off somehow.”
“You guys had to decide to do this the week before Halloween, didn’t you?” Carol said. “This won’t be easy. They’re way ahead of us on this.”
“We know the general area,” said Brit.
“And we have friends who can help us,” said Jordan. “All Shadowclan has are enemies.”
“I’m not sure I’d exactly say that,” said Carol. “but they are dealing with untrustworthy types.”
“So we can do it?” Tanner asked. “You’ll help us?”
“I’ll always help you guys and I agree this is worth a try. But if we’re going to have any hope of beating Gwen and her witches to this thing, we’ll have to use every resource we have and gain any edge we can. This will take all of our minds, skills, and no small amount of luck. First of all, I think the plan should be to find out where these things are. The painting and the book.”
“Isn’t that kind of obvious?” Jordan asked. “I mean where they are is the whole point.”
“It might sound obvious, but that isn’t what Gwen will do. She’ll try to find the people who have them, then manipulate the people somehow. Now it’s likely the book and the painting are together. We think somewhere in the Bahamas, but that’s a pretty wide area. It’s small, as a country goes. And it’s close. But at this point it’s still a needle in a haystack. Getting around over there is tricky. Dangerous even. It’s not like driving back and forth between here and Palm Beach.
“Tanner, you’re the expert on sailing and navigation, not to mention pirate lore. See what you can find out about possible locations. Brit, I want you to learn as much as you can about the history of this painting. The spell. Jordan, you help her. I’ll poke around and learn what I can about what Gwen and her crew knows so far. We have to move quickly like you said and we can’t let The Poison Apple know what we’re up to. We’re already on their radar so be careful. Watch each other’s backs. Don’t take any chances. If anything seems unusual or out of the ordinary, I wanna know.”
“Unusual or out of the ordinary?” Jordan said.
“Well unusual for us. You know what I mean.”
Chapter 10
Betrayed
Avalon Spellshop was bustling on the weekdays leading up to Samhain/Halloween Saturday. The Poison Apple also saw a greater amount of tourist traffic in those days, for better or worse, and the entire city of Saint Augustine grew into a collective excitement. With such a rich culture of ghosts, witches, and as many haunted buildings as not, Halloween was Saint Augustine’s time to shine. It was a time when the town witches could dress in full black hat splendor, and walk happily along the streets. The fact that Halloween fell on a Saturday made the area bar and restaurant managers happy, although no happier than when it fell on Friday the previous year. Everyone knew they were in for a few confusing years as the holiday moved through the weekdays and future parties would be shifted to the compromised weekend before, and eventually, to the dreaded Friday after. However, for the time being, Halloween/Samhain was on a Saturday and so all was well in the world.
Although it was only Tuesday, Jordan arrived at the shop to relieve Tanner and close with Brit in full steampunk adventure attire. She wore a floor-length black skirt with navy pinstripes, belted at the waist with a three inch wide black leather belt. Her belt held a small leather pouch, a six gun holster modified to hold her wand, a collapsed brass spyglass, a cobalt coffee mug in a custom leather holster, and another small belt looped over the main belt. The smaller vertically clasped belt gathered the skirt up full by the cream
ruffled hem where it slung three inches below the waist and created a wide provocative slit that revealed her long, strong, gartered, and black fence-net stockinged leg. Black leather fingerless gloves, also buckled and strapped, rode halfway to her elbows. She wore a fiercely cropped bolero jacket of nearly-black navy with gold tasseled shoulder epaulets, two gold buttons on its well opened front, and gold cord trim along the hem which came down only to the bustier top edge. The low, black, top hat she had bought from the hat girl held green lensed brass goggles. She wore oversized round purple sunglasses with chrome frames over pale makeup and dark purple lipstick.
She jumped in with one dramatic leap through the opened door, her black combat boots landed as if she had just parachuted in, and the many brass buckles, straps, and implements clattered. Wand out and up.
“Back rapscallions!” she shouted to three startled customers and her fellow employees.
“Hi Jordan,” said Tanner, not startled.
Two customers, a middle-aged tourist man and woman together, cast looks of confused disapproval and clung to one another on their way out, both somehow offended at either being rudely surprised, or simply from encountering such a free individual.
“Wow, look at you,” said Brit and she moved from the back to check out the outfit, pulling up buckles and belt ends, and generally looking to see how it all went together.
“I’m wearing this to go see a DJ with Claire Friday night and I wanted to be sure I could get around in it. Not sure about dancing in these boots,” and she held one up. “But enough cosmos and I won’t care.”
“What DJ? Where are you guys going?” Brit asked.
“Spellcaster. He’s playing an all-vinyl house set at Warehouse. And the dark ambient DJ we saw last summer in West Palm is playing at some point. Way late I’m sure, but I’m mostly going to hear him spin. Trying to get Claire into it.”
“Oh yeah,” Brit said. “What’s his name again?”
“Kelvin Dark.”
“Yeah Kelvin Dark. So cool.”
“I thought you didn’t like the dark ambient stuff,” Jordan asked blending into the activity of store mode.
“Oh I don’t. Not my thing. Maybe sleep to it. I just think his name is cool. Kelvin Dark.”
“But Spellcaster mixing deep house. Come with us,” Jordan said.
“I would but I’m going to dinner with Marshal Friday.”
“Oh my god Brit, I think this is getting serious. Where are you going?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Have you guys gone to dinner yet?” Jordan asked and she put her bag on the front table and Tanner wasn’t actively listening so he moved to see if any customers needed help.
“No. Just coffee twice and to Warehouse that one night.”
“And now out to dinner for the fourth date. It’s serious.”
“No it isn’t,” Brit insisted.
“Have you had coffee or gone dancing or out to dinner with any other guy since you met him?”
“No.”
“Would you?”
“It depends on the guy.”
“Whatever,” Jordan said with a lift of one hand and Brit just smiled at her.
Customers filtered in and out and eventually Tanner was ready to leave. A rare moment with no customers in the shop gave him a chance to speak to the girls up front.
“I’ve been through the Pirate Museum searching for clues about where they may have this painting. I also dug through some of the old books I have. I’m going to the county library next.”
“What, exactly, are you looking for?” asked Jordan.
“I’m not sure. But as a rule, pirates bet on sure things. Once they have a spot or a location that’s proven itself hidden, easily escapable, or both, they tend to use it again and again. If they do have this painting they’ll keep it in the most secure location. There was an old pirate stronghold in Tampa. There was also a pirate fort on what’s now called Elliot Key, but that’s in Biscayne Bay and it’s heavily traveled. This will be on an out island. Somewhere defensible. And not prone to erosion or storms. Rocky. Or at least stable.”
“Doesn’t sound like much to go on,” Jordan said.
“It isn’t,” Tanner agreed. “Brit. Anything yet?”
“The library has seventy-seven books that mention Aradia. I’ve eliminated some that I think are way off. Fiction. A few studies of feminine witchcraft and sexuality.”
“Really?” asked Jordan.
“Really,” Brit said. “I have it narrowed down to twenty books. Jordan and I will split those up and go over them. I wanna do it before the weekend. Jordan, can you meet me at the library sometime soon?”
“Not before this weekend. How about after Halloween, like Monday?”
“Monday. I get out of class at four p.m. I can meet you there after that.”
Jordan looked at the little notepad she used to write dates and notes and she flipped through a few pages then said, “Okay good,” and wrote a note for herself. “I still don’t see what we’re gonna find in a library.”
Tanner raised his eyebrows and Brit spoke. “It’s just a place to start. Actually so far you have the best connection. With Shay. When will she be back?”
“After Samhain. The last day before the dark moon. I’m already meeting her.”
“Okay before then, we dig through the libraries,” Tanner said and Brit nodded. “And maybe Carol will come up with something.”
“So can Brit go get coffee before you leave then?” asked Jordan and Tanner answered.
“Go for it, but hurry up. I’m ready to get out of here. Why don’t you guys ever just make coffee here?”
“Oh we do. But it’s not the same,” Jordan said.
“Yeah. We prefer to work with professionals,” Brit added then looked to Jordan. “But you can go Jordy.”
“I just thought since you’d been in here all morning,” Jordan reasoned.
“No I’m okay. You can go.”
“Then I’m outta here too,” Tanner said. “Brit just needs to count in.”
“Yeah yeah,” Brit said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Jordan said and she left with Tanner behind her.
Jordan decided to go to Coastal Coffee to show Mims her outfit and she walked along the breezy waterfront and looked at the sailboats in the bay. She thought she knew which one was Tanner’s, and she wondered if she might see him rowing out to it but she did not. She cut west along Hypolita to get to Saint George Street where she blended with throngs of meandering tourists and headed north to Coastal. She drew near Cuna Street and remembered what Tanner had said about her being more aware in the moment. She decided to sneak down the narrow path behind a few houses and a restaurant on the south side of Cuna and before she considered why or to what end she was creeping along the shaded walkway and trying to catch glimpses of The Poison Apple across Cuna between foliage, trees, and fences.
She came to a spot where a shadowbox wooden fence lined one side of an alley between an old house that was now a perpetually closed art gallery to the west, and a restaurant that was opened but not busy yet to the east. The fence ran along the restaurant to form an oak-shaded courtyard in the back. At the sidewalk along Cuna the fence held a gate that closed off the alley by latching at the art gallery wall. A fence board to the right of the gate hinges had come loose and leaned to one side and through the gap Jordan could see the front of The Poison Apple one lot east and across the street. A cool breeze slid up from the river and stirred leaves along the curbs. The oaks also shaded her at that spot and she felt certain no one coming or going from the more sunlit store could see her. She unbuckled a clasp from one of the cases on her belt and pulled out the brass telescope. She clicked it open, trained it on the store through the fence gap, and watched. No one came or went and she looked at some of the clothing items twisting on hangers from the porch rails.
Then movement at the door. A pale teenage waif in all black with long straight black hai
r exited alone and walked east on Cuna. Two girls and one guy came along the street just then, passed the girl, and looked to the store but kept walking. Jordan let the spyglass down and watched a more broad view of the street and the shop while a few more people passed. She saw a woman in her thirties walk up to the shop, inspect a few of the garments outside, then go in. Then she saw the door open and a young man step out. She lifted the spyglass to her eye and said, “Holy shit,” when she saw Marshal, the writer guy, and Brit’s increasingly serious crush leave the store and walk east on Cuna. “Son of a bitch,” she said under her breath and she ran back down the alley and along the path behind the buildings toward the fort. She slowed at the lane’s end and she crept to the street but she did not see Marshal there or anywhere and she emerged into the sunlight and she looked up and down the main road but she did not see him again and she went to get coffee and her mind swam.
As a steampunk cosplayer for years, Mims loved Jordan's outfit. She made the drinks while Jordan talked to Prisma who sat behind a basket of wrapped biscotti when customers came and went, then jumped up to do a little dance and spin around, talking all the while, when only Jordan and Mims were in the shop. Jordan was fascinated by faerie lore and Prisma loved to chat so they were quickly becoming friends.
“She hid all the spoons last night,” Mims said over her shoulder from the espresso bar, steam flowing around her.
“I did not!” said Prisma in a shrill little shout. She spun on her heels to face the bar. “Pull me a shot?” she asked walking toward the drip tray around the back counter where it connected the bar counter to the espresso machine.
“No,” said Mims and she shooed at Prisma with her free hand and Prisma flew across back to her spot near the biscotti basket to chat with Jordan. “I’ll give you decaf,” Mims added and handed Jordan her iced coffee.
“You would never!” Prisma said with a dramatic, wounded gesture.
“No. I would never,” Mims said and went back to make Brit’s mocha.
“No decaf for me either,” said Jordan. “It’s against my religion.”