Chapter 2 Thieves in the Night #2
And those words were as good as any complex hex spell she could have ever cast upon me.
As several imps chased me through the Hurtado home’s central courtyard, I ducked through the archway that led to the massive wooden portico that served as their front door.
The doors opened of their own accord, and as I stepped out onto the narrow sidewalk, I glanced back to see several of the daemonic creatures glaring at me with their reddened eyes.
Another icy chill crawled across my skin. Quite the accomplishment, as the sticky and stifling heat of the evening would have seen me sweating before shivering.
The wooden doors suddenly slammed shut on their own, cutting off the cold dead stares of the hellish creatures.
Thunder rumbled overhead. I glanced above to see dark swirling clouds and an arc of lightning dance across the sky.
Another rumble.
We were certainly in for a good rain tonight, which was odd; the rainy season typically ended in September.
Pulling my cowl over my head, I made my way down to the Malecón.
There wouldn’t be any shelter there once the deluge began, but the exposed walk was the fastest way to the market near the Rio Quale, and that’s where I needed to go to source out the items necessary to reanimate Mistress Magdalena.
The oppressive heat was made bearable by the steady tropical breeze, most likely enhanced by the oncoming storm. Still, the inclement weather hadn’t dispelled the locals. The taco stands bustled with customers and the rich smell of marinating carnitas floated in the air.
I could have used a couple of bites to eat, and a peak at their myriad bowls filled with different salsas made my mouth water.
I glanced at my timepiece. It was late already, and the market would be closing soon. The taco stands, however, if not flooded out with the rain, would be open until the wee hours of the morning. I could wait and get some dinner until after I’d finished finding the token I needed.
I would need many items for the Hurtado resurrection – as the resurrection required a multitude of witchy things.
Despite my abundant stock at home, the main amulet necessary for the spell was an anchor placed into the center of the body’s torso.
A memento that would adequately encapsulate the spirit of the family and draw out the memories housed within the bones of the chosen ancestor.
It was those memories that activated the corpse, bringing them back from the dead and allowing them to remember their own history and lives.
For Mistress Magdalena, I would need to find something dark, something ultra mystical.
Walking away from the fine eats on offer, I had only a few more moments of walking before reaching the edge of the market.
I felt a few drops upon my face, big, fat ones, and they stung the skin when they hit.
And of course, as if on cue, the sky illuminated with multiple arcs of lightning, a cobblestone-shaking roll of thunder, and then the deluge began.
I had made it to the edge of the market, to the tables that were barely covered by the cupolas of the nearby buildings when the rain fell in earnest.
I scanned the outer tables first, looking for the charm or amulet that would be the perfect fit for the Hurtado family, not really paying much attention to the vendors or the others around me.
I didn’t think I would find anything here, as the stalls on the periphery were mostly junk tossers. But you never knew what you might find.
“Watch yourself,” the gentlemen from behind the table said. His head was down, he was fiddling with something, and then he threw out some brightly colored gemstones onto the corner of the table.
A flock of teens—almost twenty in number, all dressed in black, playing up the Obscurus clan’s more enigmatic qualities—swarmed the nearby tables.
“Pull your cloak in, or you’ll lose what’s in it,” the vendor said.
I knew the voice but couldn’t place a name, and I hadn’t really seen his face clearly yet. Deciding to follow his advice, I stuck my hands into the deepest pockets of my clothes and placed my palm over the fat packet that Luana had gifted me as the mob drew in, close.
I was jostled several times by numerous bodies.
A pretty girl with a neck tattoo and fierce eyeliner came up to the table, stood beside me, and perused the goods on offer.
She picked up several things, eyeing them carefully, then put them back down.
Several of her friends pulled in, bumped into me a couple more times, but then withdrew when I threw them a dirty look.
“If you’re not interested in buying anything, then move along,” the vendor said.
I was shocked. Normally, any interest at the shops here would entice a very invested owner, willing to sell you everything they had—and for a very good price.
Free today for you, I’ll only charge you for the bag.
A common saying. Of course, the bag, or bolsa, would cost a thousand times more than it should.
Hearing the owner shoo away any potential customers was something I had never seen or heard before.
The pretty girl squinted at the owner, who now lifted his head.
Ah, shit. I had ended up at Artur Beaulieu’s table.
The rain came down in sheets. The ends of my robes soaked up the puddles that started to form at my feet.
“Go on. If you’re not buying, then accost someone else.” He waved her away, and her accompanying friends, with a wave of his hand.
“Rude,” she snapped. Her lips continued to move, but no sound came out, no doubt hexing Artur’s stand. Like he needed any additional chaos in his life.
Artur Beaulieu had a notorious reputation for selling garbage, but worse, he held the distinction of being the worst chaos witch on the block.
He had zero control over his abilities, and where Artur was found, bad luck would certainly follow.
The pack of teens dispersed.
“Check your pockets,” Artur directed. “Do you still have everything?”.
“I, ah…” I patted myself down, confirming that I still retained my property, which I did. “Yes, I think I’m good, thank you.” I furrowed my brows as I glanced at Artur.
He was younger than me, by at least a decade, I assumed. His chiseled face bore a week’s worth of stubble, and there was some grey on his chin. Nothing like the full-on salt-and-pepper of my own beard. His green eyes conveyed a touch of kindness, laced with a lot of sadness.
Artur was well known in the magickal community, and never for anything good. I’d always shirked away from his presence, knowing something bad typically followed, but right now, I had to wonder if some of that had been misguided.
“Thank you.” I glanced down, slightly embarrassed by my past reactions to him.
It was then I noticed the brightly coloured gems he had thrown out onto the table were gone.
“Artur, they stole from you!” I pointed towards his goods, or at least, where the stones had been.
“Yup. They come here at least once a week. I used to lose some good stuff, so now I throw out decoys. The rocks were worthless.” He winked at me.
Damn if the man wasn’t a little handsome.
“Thank you, again. That was clever,” I said.
“You gotta find ways to preserve what you have. Gods know I have little of that. But enough of thieves in the night. Anything here of interest to the preeminent necromancer of the city?” He smiled at me, and I knew right away, I’d have to buy at least something. Some token of appreciation.
If nothing else, to repay him for his forethought and protection.
After all, I could’ve lost the money Luana had given me.