Chapter 25
Malek looked up from one of the romance novels.
He’d positioned himself behind the spinner full of books, so whenever he glanced up he could see over it and to the doorway.
The front counter, and his microphone, was also in his line of sight.
He swore he could hear his mic calling him.
Each time the clerk brushed the stem with his finger, it was like a whisper in Malek’s ear.
His skin flared blue around his tattoos, and he tried to compose himself.
Soon. We’ll be together soon. He glanced back down at the romance novel he was holding and saw similar words spoken from one protagonist to another.
Malek lost himself in the story for a couple moments, shocked at how easily he was pulled into the drama of two lovers in some made up country, fighting to be together in spite of one of them being promised to another person.
The doorbell rang when William walked into the store.
He met Malek’s gaze with a nod and headed in between the mannequins.
Natasha stayed outside, wearing her new tacky jewelry as she assessed the back exit of the store.
Caspar came in moments later with a hand over his left eye socket, rushing to the counter in a panic.
“Sir!” Caspar tapped the counter. “Sir, my eye!”
The clerk let out a mute gasp when Caspar lifted his hand to reveal the empty, pink socket. The clerk pressed a hand to his electrolarynx frantically as he spoke. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m pretty sure when I was in here not five minutes ago, I lost my glass eye. Has someone returned it?”
“Your glass eye?” the clerk repeated. He looked at the floor around the cash register. Finding nothing, he reached for the microphone to announce it to the crowd.
William appeared before the PA could be tapped on. “Sir? Is it a glass eye you’re looking for?”
“Yes!” Caspar said, turning to William. “Have you seen it?”
“Maybe. What does it look like?”
“It’s glass!” Caspar said a bit too dramatically. “What else could it look like? It goes right here!”
When Caspar pointed to the fleshy bits where the eye had been, the clerk gasped again. Leaving his microphone behind the counter, he walked around the front of the store to face William, his brows furrowed.
“You, young man. You were in here five minutes ago, too,” he said, an accusing tone in his voice. “Did you take the eye?”
“Why would I take a silly eye?” William said. He shifted his hands in his pockets nervously, acting the part of the guilty. “That’s preposterous.”
“It’s very valuable,” Caspar emphasized. “It’s worth at least two thousand dollars.”
“For an eye?”
“Yes! I’m a very important magician. I’ve toured all over this magical country, supernatural and free. The eye was specially made to complement my magic. So let me enlist your help. If you can find the eye, there will be a reward.”
“A reward?” William said, feigning more excitement. “Two thousand?”
“That’s how much the eye is worth, yes, but let’s make it four thousand, so no one tries to sell it on their own.” Caspar turned to face the clerk. “Does that work for you?”
“Um. Yes, yes. Sure. We better hurry and find it soon, though. The book club from across the street is going to come in at five, and we wouldn’t want their flat shoes stepping on it.”
“Not at all,” Caspar said. He patted down the front of his jacket, then snapped his fingers. “You know, I have no pens or business cards to give you. Do you have paper in the back? I can give you my contact information in case we can’t find the eye today.”
“And I’ll look for it,” William insisted.
Without waiting for permission, he went to the back of the store where the children’s toys were.
With the clerk already suspecting that William was a thief, he’d want to follow him to be sure he wasn’t pocketing the eye.
Also, because the eye was worth so much, the clerk would most likely want to keep the reward for himself—along with Caspar’s information.
Either way, the plan was to lead him as far away from the mic as possible.
“Come with me, sir,” the clerk said, gesturing toward the back where the “Employee’s Only” sign was. “We’ll get this all sorted out as quick as can be.”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you both.” Caspar followed a step behind the clerk to the back room. When he shot a look over his shoulder, winking with his only good eye, Malek knew it was his turn.
Malek’s microphone, encrusted in blue gems that now seemed to glow, made him feel like he was back on stage and about to perform.
Long before there had been All Trades, Malek freestyled rap battles in his old apartment complex.
He liked the feeling that came from winging it and still somehow managing to string together rhyming words.
It made him feel powerful, the way Twigs must feel powerful when she cast spells.
As Malek moved away from the counter, he finally held the mic in his hands, having swiped it from the stand.
The blue gems were definitely glowing. The mic hummed the way the blue guitar did against his skin, like a bird calling its way home.
Music filled with one hit wonders and old Canadian songs played from the PA system, and for a minute, Malek wished his old band was part of that background noise.
“Come on,” William said, appearing by his side. “We gotta go now.”
Malek swallowed as he saw the doorknob on the back room door twist. William jetted out of the store in a huff, followed by Malek, and Natasha pushed inside instead.
“Oh!” Natasha cried out as she spotted the clerk and Caspar. “I think I’ve found the eye someone was looking for!”
The door shut behind Natasha and the scene was closed for Malek and William.
They both rounded the corner of the building, out of sight of the windows, and waited for the rest of their crew to finish.
Malek’s heart was already pounding, though.
He didn’t need to wait to know they’d gotten away with it. The victory flowed through his skin.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Malek said to the mic.
He blinked back to one of his first shows—meeting Abe, the two of them kissing over the same microphone.
Though Abe was long gone, the memory brought him solace.
The music did, too. He was still thinking of All Trades and their shows when the rest of the gang came around the corner.
Caspar was out of breath, lagging behind Natasha, but his eye was back in place.
William huffed, holding his side. “A magician? Really?”
“I had to think on my feet,” Caspar said. “I didn’t know what other occupation to say.”
“Accountant?” William suggested, but Caspar only shrugged.
“Well, it worked. But we should keep running,” Natasha said. “The owner is gonna be pissed as soon as he realizes he was played.”
Everyone jogged out of the back parking lot and across the street.
After passing a couple apartment complexes and zigzagging their way through a park, they felt safe enough to walk.
Malek tucked his microphone up his left sleeve and almost reached out his right hand to link with Caspar.
But each time he tried to reach out, he was distracted by a shadow that marked his vision.
Malek stopped in his tracks.
“What?” Caspar asked. “Is something wrong?”
“You see that?” Malek gestured to the left.
Caspar followed his line of sight, but shrugged. “What?”
“A shadow. I swear I saw something around the corner over there. By the convenience store?”
Caspar checked again, but seemingly saw nothing. William and Natasha had stopped too, looking around aimlessly.
“We should hurry,” Caspar said. “Even if we’re not seeing anything, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t rush.”
“What if we took a cab—”
A scream replaced William’s question as he was tossed to the ground.
Heavy footsteps against pavement soon followed, as though an avalanche was closing in around them.
Malek struggled to see where the noise was coming from, but saw nothing around them.
Natasha jumped back from the corner when a rock flew between herself and Caspar.
They all darted out of the way of the rock, but Malek stood rooted in place as he stared at the sky.
“Gargoyles,” he said. ”Fuck.”
Three gargoyles stood atop one of the stores they had walked behind.
All three were men, wearing dark jeans and leather jackets over their pallid, grey skin.
They jumped down from their perch, cracking the pavement in two as they did.
Up close, their jagged, misaligned teeth were frightening, even more than their ridiculous strength.
They held no weapons—save for their large, meaty fists and endless rocks.
“Gargoyles?” Natasha said, voice hitched with fear.
She reached into her purse, but soon jumped out of the way as another rock came flying between herself and Caspar.
William’s body lay between two buildings.
A pool of blood around a wound on his head seemed to grow bigger by the second.
Malek’s heart panged for him, then it panged for all of them.
“What the hell do we do?” Caspar asked, dodging another rock.
Malek slipped the microphone into his back pocket.
Early on in the tour with All Trades, the band had gotten into a bar room rumble with some trolls.
It was a tough fight, but Abe had trained Malek afterward in defending himself so something that devastating didn’t happen again.
Malek raised his hands to his face, his feet out in a boxing stance like Abe had taught him.
His body swayed, remembering all the moves like lyrics to his favourite song.
“We fight,” Malek said, and he charged at the gargoyles.