Adapt Or Be Crushed (The Exceptional S. Beaufont Book 9)

by Sarah Noffke

  The hairy creature shook his round head. “No, I haven’t been burglarized or robbed. Juergen happened.”

  “Oh.” Sophia heard a shuffling sound coming from the back of the shop. She’d met Jeremy Bearimy’s assistant on the few occasions that she’d been there. He wasn’t the most graceful on his feet, but there was something strange about the character that she’d yet to put her finger on, as if a weird competence lurked under the surface. It was like King Rudolf. He seemed dumb as a brick, but then too often he surprised everyone by saving the day and being the most valued person in battles.

  “He dropped a thimble.” Jeremy Bearimy sighed and looked around at the disheveled shop.

  “By thimble, do you mean a bomb?” Sophia had to ask.

  The tarantula shook his head. “When he bent over to get it, he hit his head on a stand and that spooked him so he fell back into the shelves and knocked all of them down. But then, against my pleas, he tried to catch them, which sent all the bolts of stacked fabrics tumbling to the floor. Inside of ten seconds, he’d created this mess.”

  Sophia offered a sympathetic expression. “Do you want my help cleaning it all up? I could have everything back in place in seconds.” She held up her hand, ready for the command.

  “No, but thank you,” Jeremy Bearimy answered. “Actually…” He glanced down at the floor and picked up a small brass button that should have been lost in all the mess. “This is quite fortuitous. I’ve been looking for this button for over three decades. I’d nearly given up hope, and here it is!”

  The excitement in the tarantula’s voice grew as he held the small button up to the light, his eyes sparkling with sudden joy.

  “That button…” Sophia studied the small item, but didn’t see what was so special about it. “That’s a long time to look for something like that.” What she didn’t ask was the obvious question of “Why?”

  Jeremy Bearimy snapped his hairy leg back down while still clutching the button. “Oh, but my efforts were for a good reason. This isn’t any button.”

  “I would hope not,” Sophia stated.

  The tarantula leaned closer to her, his pinchers dangerously near her face, making her tense. Sophia knew that Jeremy Bearimy wouldn’t hurt her, or at least she hoped that, but being so close to a large tarantula was still unsettling.

  “This button, well, it has incredible magical properties,” Jeremy Bearimy began in a conspiratorial voice. “I can spin silk that can withstand fatal blows and create the best protective armor in the world. However, this button…well, I’m not sure I can disclose what it does to you or anyone. It’s that valuable.”

  “I’m not sure my interest will allow me to leave without knowing after that buildup,” Sophia stated matter-of-factly.

  The seamster considered this for a moment, then added, “Well, I’ll tell you this much. One would never want for anything if this button was sewn on their clothes.”

  “Want for anything?” Sophia thought this was too broad a description and tried to pull the real details from Jeremy Bearimy. “Like riches?”

  “Like food, water, heat, coolness, comfort, joy… Do you get the idea?”

  Sophia’s mouth fell open. “So wearing that single button makes it so the person is never hungry or tired or cold or anything?”

  “You’re always perfect with this,” Jeremy Bearimy stated with satisfaction, still clutching the item. “It makes the wearer as fit as a button.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty impressive,” Sophia stated. “So who gets to wear it?”

  Jeremy Bearimy shrugged. “I lost it a long time ago, so I don’t know. It’s not right for me, but I’m sure someone will come along who will need it. Until then, I will allow Juergen to wear it since he is the reason that I found it, after all.”

  “But what if he loses the button?” Sophia asked.

  “Oh, he never loses a thing,” Jeremy Bearimy answered. “Juergen is my finder. This button proves it. I couldn’t find a thing without him. It turns out that he usually destroys the shop in the process, but sometimes we need chaos in our lives to create order. It is the winds of a storm that knocks the loose branches free from the trees, after all.”

  Sophia smiled, enjoying the sentiment. “That’s a lovely phrase.”

  “You may borrow it,” Jeremy Bearimy said good-naturedly. “Now, you came to see me for a reason, correct? Is it the dress I made for Ainsley Carter? Did it work out all right? Do you need me to make alterations?”

  Sophia felt a pang of grief, missing her friend the elfin shapeshifter. “I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to ask her, but I’m sure that it’s perfect and she loves it. Thank you.”

  “Oh, good,” Jeremy Bearimy stated. “Then you’re here for something new.”

  “Yes, and I’m afraid it will be a large project,” Sophia began. “I’m not sure if you’ll have time, but I’ve been told that the Dragon Elite needs armor, both for the riders and the dragons.”

  “That is a very large project.” Jeremy Bearimy suddenly looked overwhelmed.

  “I understand if you can’t fit it in,” Sophia responded at once. “It’s just that—”

  “Not fit it in?” the tarantula interrupted. “Do you think I’m mad?”

  This had to be a trick question. Sophia tilted her head and drawled, “Nooooo…”

  “Of course I’m not,” Jeremy Bearimy chirped. “I’d have to be to not outfit the Dragon Elite and their trusty steeds with armor at your request. It sounds like you’ll be going into an important and deadly battle. What do you know of it?”

  Sophia pursed her lips. “Not a thing. I was told by a very reliable source that we’d need armor.”

  “Oh, I can’t imagine how you sleep knowing that you’ll face an unknown danger.”

  Sophia laughed. “Usually with the fan on.”

  “What’s that now?” Jeremy Bearimy looked confused.

  “Oh, I was saying that I sleep with the fan on,” Sophia imparted, still laughing. “It‘s pretty easy to go about my business knowing that in the future I’ll encounter some serious danger.”

  “Right you are,” Jeremy Bearimy stated proudly. “Embrace the uncertainty in life. Therein lies the true power for those who want great adventures and therefore great achievements.”

  “So you will make the armor?” Hope laced Sophia’s tone.

  “Absolutely.” He glanced toward the back of the shop. “Juergen, I need the magic-measure-o-meter.”

  “Coming, sir,” the assistant called, sounding winded like he’d been running around. A moment later, the man sped into the front of the shop and nearly tripped on the fabrics and other items strewn across the floor. He held up a single yellow roll of measuring ribbon. “Here is, sir. I had to look everywhere for it, but I found it.”

  “That was you looking everywhere?” Sophia questioned. “You turned up with it seconds after he requested it.”

  Juergen bowed. “And I’m sorry to keep you waiting, sir. My deepest apologies.”

  Sophia shook her head. Her life and the people in it were so bizarre. She wouldn’t change a thing about them or her life.

  “That’s quite all right, Juergen.” Jeremy Bearimy took the measuring ribbon that he held up and handed it to Sophia. “You’ll need to take this and wrap it around the pointer finger of each of the riders you need armor for.”

  When he didn’t elaborate, Sophia prompted, “Then what?”

  “What do you mean, then what?” Jeremy Bearimy asked, confused.

  “Where else do I take measurements?”

  “That’s it,” the tarantula answered simply, like this should be obvious. “Wrap it around their finger, and all their measurements will be reported to me. For the dragons though, you’ll wrap it around their tails. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

  Sophia smiled, impressed. “No, it shouldn’t be at all. That’s amazing.”

  “Quite,” Jeremy Bearimy stated. “Now, I’ll make this a chief priority, but still, it will take some time.
I’m guessing you don’t know exactly when you’ll need the armor?”

  Sophia shook her head. “No, that wasn’t disclosed to me. I just have to be ready for battle at a moment’s notice.”

  The seamster nodded, like that was perfectly acceptable. “Very well, then. I’ll work as diligently as I can and have the armor ready very soon.”

  “Thank you so much,” Sophia said with relief. She didn’t know what type of battle would require armor for both the riders and the dragons, but as much as she tried to pretend, the foreboding quality of this mysterious battle definitely had the potential to keep her up at night.

  “May I make a suggestion?” Jeremy Bearimy asked carefully.

  “Of course,” Sophia said at once.

  “Well, it seems to me that if you require special armor for you and your dragons for this upcoming battle, then you might also need a special weapon of sorts,” Jeremy Bearimy mused.

  Sophia glanced down at Inexorabilis on her hip. It was a fine weapon, of the highest quality, but the seamster was probably right that they’d need something more. However, how was Sophia supposed to find a weapon to defeat a villain that she didn’t know anything about yet?

  Although the whole thing was perplexing, she was grateful that she had an option. The only caveat was would the person who could help her, actually do so.

  Chapter Forty

  “All I’m saying is that smiling wouldn’t kill you,” Liv said dryly to Papa Creola when Sophia entered the Fantastical Armory.

  The two glanced in her direction. Neither seemed surprised to see her.

  “You’re late,” Papa Creola said flatly to Sophia with a punishing look on his face.

  She sighed. “Didn’t know I was coming here, so for me, I feel like I’m early.”

  “See, delivering that scolding remark with a smile would have made it all the better,” Liv commented to Father Time, which he ignored.

  “So you know why I’m here then.” Sophia strode over to the counter and stood next to her sister. “That always makes things easier.”

  Liv laughed. “It’s cute that you’d think that.”

  “You’re not here to see me, I know that much.” Papa Creola put a strange monocle in his eye and studied a large orange gem in his hands.

  “Although I want to believe you’re here to see me, I know better.” Liv leaned her head on Sophia’s shoulder. “How’s it going?”

  “Good,” Sophia chirped. “Looking for a weapon to defeat an enemy that I know nothing about and don’t know when the Dragon Elite will face it.”

  “Sounds about right.” Liv straightened.

  “But you know you’re facing an enemy, and that should be enough.” Papa Creola continued to study the gem.

  “Isn’t he so cute when he squints like that?” Liv asked her sister.

  “I still contend it’s difficult to know what kind of weapon defeats an enemy or an army or whatever it is that I’ll be facing alongside the Dragon Elite,” Sophia argued.

  Papa Creola sighed. “You two always want information. What am I facing? When? Where?” He shook his head. “For once, just go with the flow, would you?”

  Liv grimaced. “When you talk like a hippie, I feel like you’re begging me to strangle you.”

  He nodded. “I think in a way, I am. Put me out of my misery.”

  “I know you can’t help it,” Liv stated. “But still, try and refrain from spouting Bob Marley quotes. That really is for the best.”

  “I like Bob Marley,” Sophia replied.

  “You’re going to regret saying that in a moment,” Liv imparted.

  “Why?”

  “Just you wait.” There was a foreboding quality to her tone.

  “Subner will be out in a moment,” Papa Creola interrupted, and continued to squint as he studied the gem.

  Liv sighed. “I’m sorry that he’s keeping you waiting, Soph. That’s very rude since he obviously knew you two had a meeting, although you didn’t.”

  “He’s not late,” Papa Creola sputtered. “He’ll be here as soon as this repugnant conversation is over.”

  “If that’s your way of dismissing me, then it totally worked.” Liv smiled. She pointed at her mouth and grinned wider. “See how this makes a big difference, Papa?”

  “No,” he said at once. “It does nothing to improve your face.”

  Undeterred, Liv shook her head. “If you weren’t the most powerful entity, I’d give you a piece of my mind.”

  “Oh, has that been what’s been stopping you?” He sounded surprised.

  “No, not really,” Liv stated. “It’s mostly because I’m a people pleaser.”

  “Is that why I get so many complaints about you?” Papa Creola asked, quite seriously.

  “Anyway Sophia, I hope that whatever you’ve got to fight goes down easily—”

  “It won’t,” Papa Creola interrupted, his attention still on the gem.

  “And I further hope that you escape unscathed,” Liv continued.

  “She won’t,” Papa Creola stated dryly.

  “Well, then I hope your scars make for good stories at dinner parties,” Liv offered.

  Papa Creola lowered his chin and glared at the Warrior for the House of Fourteen. “Because nothing is more appetizing than yanking up your sleeve at a dinner table and showing your scars.”

  “Is that why all the invites stopped?” Liv joked.

  Papa Creola shook his head. “You are the epitome of class.”

  “Well, Soph…” Liv put her hand on her sister’s shoulder and gave her a meaningful expression. “I want you to know that if you need anything, I’m always here for you. Whatever, whenever, no matter what I’m here—”

  “Liv, you’re late for that thing,” Papa Creola interrupted.

  Her eyes widened with alarm. “Oh, hell. You’re right.” Liv smiled at Sophia and winked. “Catch you later. I’ve got to go.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  As soon as the door to the Fantastical Armory swung shut behind Liv, Subner entered from the back, an expectant expression on his face. He strode straight over to Sophia and simply glared at her.

  “Hey,” she said casually. “So apparently, I need your help.”

  “Open your eyes, look within,” Subner began, quoting Bob Marley. “Are you satisfied with the life you’re living?”

  Sophia groaned. “Oh, I get it now. You’re stuck again, aren’t you?”

  “Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery,” he went on. “None but ourselves can free our minds.”

  Sophia glanced at Papa Creola. “What is wrong with him?”

  The elf shrugged. “It passes. A result of not coming to terms with this form.”

  “Maybe Liv should kill you so that you regenerate as something else,” she offered.

  “I wished it were that simple,” Papa Creola replied. “I really do. But that isn’t a job I want for her, so we have to endure.”

  “You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice,” Subner stated, again using the words of the great musician.

  “Right.” Sophia wondered if this was going to be impossible since the weapon’s expert didn’t seem to be able to communicate in anything but in Bob Marley quotes. “So I need a weapon or weapons, or I don’t know what I need because I don’t know what I’m fighting. Can you help with that?”

  “Never expect God to do for you what you don’t do to others,” Subner answered.

  Sophia glared at Papa Creola. “Seriously? Can you help here? Otherwise, murder might be my only option.”

  “Beginnings are usually scary, and endings are usually sad, but it’s everything in between that makes it worth living,” Subner said in a rehearsed voice.

  “It’s cute that you have all those Bob Marley quotes memorized, but…” Sophia turned her attention back to Papa Creola and gave him a pleading expression.

  “You can fool some people sometimes, but you can’t fool all the people all the time,” Subner stated, his
tone airy like he was high on drugs.

  “Yeah, you know what, never mind.” Sophia threw up her hands. “I don’t need a weapon that badly. Hopefully this mystery evil puts me out of my misery.”

  “When one door is closed, don’t you know that many more are open?” Subner asked, her with a curious expression on his face.

  “There’s a famous psychiatrist who might be able to help Subner,” Papa Creola offered. “This has been an ongoing problem since we regenerated. I know that you helped him before, but the issue keeps resurfacing and I think it’s because there’s a schism in his personality. He didn’t completely assimilate into the elf form.”

  “Because being hippie is a horrible thing and he can’t come to terms with it?” Sophia asked.

  “Pretty much,” Papa Creola stated dryly.

  “But I’ve met elves that weren’t hippies.” Sophia thought of Ainsley and Renswick, an expert on demons who Liv had worked with.

  “That’s true, but they are a rarity,” Papa Creola argued. “All the races have a core component for the main part. Magicians are practical as a whole. Giants are reclusive. Gnomes are sullen. Fae are wasteful, overly lavish, flamboyant, brainless—”

  “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel about them,” Sophia interrupted with a laugh.

  Papa Creola shot her a repulsed expression. “They aren’t my favorite of the races.”

  “Complaints are prayers to the devil,” Subner offered.

  “This psychiatrist,” Sophia began while looking at Father Time. “Where do I find them?”

  “In the mortal world,” Papa Creola explained. “She’s a mortal, but I need you to bring her here to Subner. I believe she’s the only one who has the ability to help him.”

  Sophia crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Why does this sound too easy?”

  “Although some mortals can enter Roya Lane,” Papa Creola began, “those are rare exceptions. There are wards here that are meant to prevent mortals from coming here. It’s safer for everyone if they don’t enter this place.”

  “So Subner goes with me to find this lady then,” Sophia offered.