Magic Burns

Page 38

 

 

 

Trailer twenty-three stood twenty yards to the left of the tower, the first story in a cluster of three trailers.

 

Kindly described by the woman as “yellow,” the trailer’s color matched that of cloudy overnight urine. It smelled like urine too, although I couldn’t pinpoint whether the stink came from the trailer itself or from the heaps of trash surrounding the cluster.

 

A series of runes in black and brown ran along the side of the trailer. On closer look, the brown was uneven and flaking off. Blood. I wondered what poor stray had to die for Esmeralda’s lovely decorative display.

 

A rusted metal porch that looked like it must’ve been a sewer grate in its previous life led to the front door. It buckled under my weight, but held, and I made it to the door.

 

“Wait, what about those?” Julie pointed at the runes.

 

“What about them?”

 

“Aren’t they magic? Mom told me Esmeralda said she had a spell on her trailer that would cut your fingers like glass.”

 

I sighed. “It’s a chunk of a ballad from the last page of the Codex Runicus, an ancient Nordic law document. Very famous. It says ‘I dreamt a dream last night of silk and fine fur.’ Trust me, if there was a ward on this trailer, the Honeycomb would’ve gobbled it up by now.”

 

I examined the lock. Nothing fancy, but I was never good at lock picking.

 

Footsteps. Coming toward us, three pairs. And something else. Something sending ripples through the volatile fabric of the Honeycomb’s magic. Julie felt them too and ran up the porch to me.

 

The footsteps drew closer. I turned slowly. Three men were approaching the trailer, the first stocky and thick across the shoulders, the other two leaner. The taller of the leaner guys carried a long chain wrapped around his arm. The other end of the chain disappeared between two trailers. All three looked suitably menacing. The chain carrier hung back, sidestepped an eddy of magic, and jerked the metal links.

 

A local shakedown team. Out in force, three on one, plus whatever it was on the other end of the chain.

 

They knew where I was headed, they knew I had money, and they knew who I worked for, otherwise there was no need for the three of them to intimidate one woman.

 

Thank you, Custer. I’ll remember this.

 

“Larry, Moe, and Curly?” I guessed.

 

“Shut your mouth, bitch,” the thinner man said.

 

“Now, now.” The thicker bravo smiled. “Let’s be polite. I’m Bryce. That over there is Mory and my buddy with the chain over there is Jeremiah. We’re just here to make sure you pay your way. Or the thing will get ugly. And nobody wants that.”

 

“Move on,” I said. “I already paid for the information.”