Chapter 32
As it turned out, Ultima had moved from the Ottawa Valley to the more metropolitan centre, where her last known hangout was at a bar called The Ten Percent.
The squat building with a blue and black awning sat in the middle of the French quarter, where all signs were in both English and French, though not a single English word could be heard from the shop windows or people on the street.
After they parked the bus outside a stadium, they had to walk for over fifteen minutes on narrow sidewalks to even glimpse the bar’s entrance.
Steam rose off the vents as they passed a fish market, and multicoloured smoke trailed out the windows of hookah bars and lounges.
When a man passed them by, bumping Caspar’s shoulder, he yelled, “Nique ta mère!” Caspar glanced at Katja and Malek for some help.
“Fuck you and your mother,” Katja said. “Not the most savory of expressions.”
“Been a while since you used your French?” Malek asked Caspar.
“Yeah, but I don’t think we ever learned that phrase in Miss Curie’s classes,” Caspar said. “What kind of bar is The Ten Percent, exactly?”
“A consulting bar,” Katja said. “When half of Ultima’s team was busted in a heist, she retired and took up consultant work. Everyone in this bar has managed to avoid being arrested, so tread lightly. They may not come up on paper, but I guarantee, some of them are in the Monster Mythology.”
“Shit. You weren’t kidding. Is she…?”
“Supernatural? No. She just really didn’t want to become a doctor like everyone in our family wanted us to become.
” Katja shrugged, and Caspar noticed some resentment flash across her face.
Since Katja had trained to be a medical examiner, and also a necromancer, he had a feeling she had lived a double life until her job at the city was terminated after a rather public, and unfortunate, vampire caseload.
“I warned you guys that I haven’t seen her in a while, right? ”
“You have. But family is family,” Malek said.
Katja laughed uneasily. “We’re not as devoted as djinns, though, and still bicker an awful lot. I suspect that since she’s a consultant now, she won’t want to actually get involved.”
“But for the right price?” William asked. “Or the right cause?”
“Mmmhmm. There are a lot of maybes. Beaucoup de peut-êtres.” Katja shrugged again and tucked her hands in her pockets. “But we won’t know until we try.”
As soon as Caspar set foot in The Ten Percent, he felt instantly at home.
The late nights he’d spent doing his homework at McGuinty’s while watching the World Series came back to him in a rush.
There was no more smoking in bars now, but the back booths of The Ten Percent still looked as if they’d been caked in a thick layer of cigarette and cigar smoke.
A man with hairy palms acted as the bartender, talking in a gruff voice about the ocean to several men with fins on their knuckles.
A juke box’s lights flickered in the back corner with a sign on it that said “OUT OF SERVICE,” yet several men in leather jackets were kicking it roughly.
A group of women shuffled cards at the back, drinking tall glasses of beer on a table that was covered in band stickers and fliers.
The place was dingy and a total dive, but it made Caspar’s heart pound with excitement.
When he glimpsed the TV, there was no typical sports game on, but a news broadcast. Anthony flashed on the screen, then so did Caspar’s photo.
“The Ghoul of Main Street is now dead,” Maxine Dream, a reporter, stated. “And his house is no longer haunted. After three days of mourning, the previous owner has decided to sell the rights to the property.”
Caspar turned away and tried to keep his hood over his ears. He didn’t have time to consider what would happen to his place. Maybe I can wish for it later, if our time doesn’t run out.
“There she is,” Katja said, gesturing to the booth at the back of the bar.
Ultima seemed bigger than her photos online, especially now that she sat in a leather jacket and hunched over a table.
Ultima’s dark hair was lost amongst the shadows.
Katja had been leading the way to her table, but now stopped in her tracks. She glanced at William with a sigh.
“We can’t all go over,” Katja said. “That’d spook her. And William—”
“I know, I know. I’m not even drinking age. I’ll go hustle someone in pool or something and stay away from the bar.”
Before Katja could disagree, William slunk along the back wall to the juke box.
After only a few kicks, he managed to get the beast of a machine to play “Tubthumping” by Chumbawamba.
The catchy pop song made their whole consultation with a jewel thief seem ridiculous, but Caspar liked that.
Every single person in this bar was supposed to be a former criminal, yet they all bobbed their heads to this one-hit wonder without question or qualm.
“I’ll get a drink,” Natasha said. “If you need me for something, let me know, okay?”
Katja gave her a nod before quickly kissing her cheek. She also seemed to slip Natasha a twenty and mumbled an order for a daiquiri. When Katja turned back, her eyes fell right on Caspar.
“So… When Chaz and I were scouting you out, we realized you had a bit of a gambling problem.”
“Problem?” Caspar laughed. “It’s only a problem if you lose. And I always won.”
“You did lose ten grand in a night. And nearly lost your legs for it.”
Malek let out a noise of sudden surprise. “Really?”
Caspar shrugged. “I got the money back, though. And I’ve known how to count cards since I was young. And I got bored easily, so I often played poker between writing science reports.”
“Huh. I’m impressed.”
“And Ultima will be too,” Katja said. “She appreciates people who know how to gamble well. It’s one of the draws of this place, other than the anonymity.”
“You get many fair games in a room full of criminals?”
“Yes, actually. Contrary to popular belief, there is honour among thieves if they’re in a place like this.
And Ultima is no exception—at least, that’s what I’ve found in my research,” Katja said.
“Ultima kind of disappeared after 2010, when her crew fell apart. The rest of this I’m going on by gut and what I remember from family picnics. ”
“Again,” Caspar asked, “you get many fair games in a room full of family?”
“No,” Katja laughed. “That’s why she became a criminal.”
“Fair,” Caspar said, chuckling. “So how are we going to play this?”
“Well, I know you’re not a thief,” Katja said, “but you are a legend. I know it sucks to out you as the Ghoul, but I think it will work to our advantage.”
“Or at least give her some warning that we’re being followed by gargoyles,” Malek said. “Even if Jocasta says she has them.”
Caspar thought of all the ways in which this plan could go wrong.
If they outed him, they risked the rest of his damn body being harvested like the Chaos Mages were trying to do.
They risked someone realizing his funeral blasting on the screen right now wasn’t actually real, and selling that news story to The Citizen’s Brigade.
Even Malek started to list some of these issues, and Katja came back at them with a new solution each time.
Caspar realized that like his days in McGuinty’s, he wasn’t alone here, either.
William played pool and Natasha watched the recap of his damn funeral at the bar while sipping a fruity drink.
When Ultima’s eyes met his across the bar, Caspar didn’t flinch.
His stomach was quivering and his hands sweated like when he’d lost that ten grand, but then his instincts kicked in.
If you could lose ten grand in three minutes, you could win it back in the same amount of time.
So while Malek and Katja bickered about strategy, Caspar knew it was in his best interest to just play the game.
He approached her booth with a slow stride.
Her dark hair was pulled across one shoulder without the use of a hair tie.
It hadn’t been cut in a long time, and the ends were tattered and ragged.
Underneath her leather jacket was an oversized T-shirt with the phrase “YOU SEE ME.” The man Ultima had been talking to rose when she gave him a hand gesture.
His half-finished nachos and beer stayed behind.
Ultima gathered her cards into the centre of her table, and from their painted designs, Caspar knew they were yet another set of Nat Wyatt’s tarot cards.
“Hello.”
“Hello,” Ultima said. “I’ve never met you before.”
“I’m kind of a big deal,” Caspar said. He gestured toward the TV. “The Ghoul?”
“Oh, I know who you are. We just haven’t been properly introduced.
I usually meet big deals before they invite themselves to my table.
So what’ll it be?” Ultima raised her fingers and ordered something from the bar.
“I’m drinking light beer. You know, summer days will be here soon enough, and it’s best to stay hydrated. ”
“I’m good. Nothing for me. But I was wondering if you’d be interested in assisting us with a plan.”
“To get your house back? I don’t think anyone wants a dump in Toronto. Though I hear that now you’re dead, the property values are going up.”
“That dump has sentimental value,” Caspar said. “But it’s not what interests me right now.”
Caspar pulled out his phone and displayed the image of The Forgotten King exhibit.
Ultima glanced over it with a faint smile and listened to the story of the four objects, the warring djinn families, and everything that made their ordeal unfold like a damn soap opera, all while sipping her light beer.
“So will you help us?” Caspar asked once he’d finished the saga. “Katja says you’re the best thief and contortionist.”
“I was. Now I consult.”
“So consult for us. We can’t give you ten percent of the final score since we only want one thing, but name your price, and I can probably find a way to give it to you.”
“Your wishes with the giant over there are non-transferrable,” she said, gesturing to Malek.
“I’m aware. But money is money is money. And capital is always good.”
Ultima laughed. She picked up the cards and shuffled them. “I think I like you. But I don’t exactly like leaving the bar. It’s become too much of a burden now.”
“Even for an adventure in Montréal?”
“The techno-witchcraft city? Pfft. Please. It may be pretty at night, but the shiny buildings with brutal architecture and a dozen stares from strangers on the street doesn’t interest me anymore.”
“But light beer does? I have to say, you’ve lost your edge.
If the techno-witchcraft city doesn’t get you excited, then come on.
What’s the point in living? At least go for the story?
” Caspar raised his brow, his challenge set.
“To be a legend again? Do they even have your name in the Monster Mythology?”
“They don’t, actually. My game operated on being invisible, so I became invisible.” Ultima sighed. She glanced behind him at Katja and Malek, who were watching while pretending not to watch. By the time they approached the table, Ultima was shuffling and dealing the cards again.
“Hello, Kitty-Kat,” Ultima greeted Katja. “How’s it going? I think you’re just in time for the show.”
“For what?”
“For our little game here. Caspar and I are going to play an all-or-nothing round. If Caspar wins, I help you guys out for free. And if I win, well, I get Caspar’s last wish. Sound about right?”
Malek and Katja gasped. Caspar merely drew up his cards, noticed all the high numbers and matching suits, and smiled.
“Sounds like a deal,” he said. “So, what’s the game?”