When Nero met Hannigan (Nero & Hannigan #1 - Preview)
Feb 14, 2018 13:01:06 GMT -5
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Post by johncheese on Feb 14, 2018 13:01:06 GMT -5
Mike limped into the magic shop he’d found in the Yellow Pages, the bell tinkling as he closed the door behind him. He had been in plenty of places like ‘Senior Magico’s’ and for the most part they were owned by two-bit hacks and peddlers who knew little about real magic and even less about good taste. Heading up to the counter Mike waited for the customer before him to leave, with her ‘likely fake’ love potion, before making the acquaintance of the short and pudgy Hispanic man who he guessed was the Senior Magico in question.
“Hola Senior, what can I help you with today?” The shop keeper asked, as Mike took a long look at the tatty cape, shirt and jeans he wore. It was clear that this man had little knowledge of real magic, and was simply playing a part. Still beggars and choosers and all that…
“I’m looking for some information about an artefact.” Mike stated as he looked round the store, in the hopes of spotting something that was akin to the item Paul had been totting.
“We are not a library Senior.” The shopkeeper answered. “Or a tourist board, if you want to know something about a magical item, then test you luck and buy a book.”
“Listen this is serious, there is a zombie creating idol out there!” Mike snapped as he banged his hands down on the counter. “I need help to destroy it, remove it or something, because I don’t get paid if…”
“…if the guy you shot isn’t dead.” The shopkeeper said through gritted teeth. “I try and avoid business with murderers thank you.”
“Listen it’s not like that, I am being paid to make sure said artefact was not to be handled until it reached its destination.” Mike lied as he reached for his pistol holstered on his belt. Besides the shop-keeper, there was one other customer, a red-haired woman in her early twenties dressed in a Dazzler concert T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Somehow if he was to turn his gun on them, he doubted they would prove little problem.
“You spin a good story Jefe.” The shop keeper stated as his eyes flicked down to Mike’s pistol before a wide smile spread across his face. “On the off chance that you are telling the truth I will let you look at one book for free, after that I start charging.” Nodding in acknowledgment, Mike walked over to the library at the end of the store, and the massive book cases loaded with a wide range of tomes and treatises. Selecting a big red book bound in blue string, Mike pulled the tome off the shelf and looked at the title, trying to decipher a translation from the central European tongue it was written in.
“That’s a good read if you are interested in the application of dung beetles in apothecary and alchemy.” The woman sitting on the bean bag beside him stated, as she removed the headphones of her I-Pod, a trance cover of Enya’s Orinoco Flow flooding the store.
“Unfortunately, I am not.” Mike sighed as he slipped the book back into where it had come from. “I’m looking for figureheads on magical boats, particularly ones with necromantic properties, but all this magic stuff isn’t my wheelhouse, I’m more of a demon hunter then a sorcerer.”
“Sounds like you want the Ragnarok Codices.” The woman replied as she got up and removed a thin book, damaged by fire from the shelf before handing it to him. Flipping open the cover, Mike could see that the writing was intact after a fashion, burnt ash white against the blackened paper by an obviously mystical fire. Unfortunately, the language wasn’t anything he recognised, but after a quick flip through he found a carving of the figurehead he’d seen back in the warehouse.
“Can you read this?” Mike asked.
“Sort of, its Asgardian a language most mortals would find hard to understand, but a basic knowledge of Proto Norse allows you to get the gist.” The woman answered. “Why do you want to know?”
“It’s complicated, let’s just say that its active and making zombies.” Mike replied as he squinted at the lettering trying to decide if the first letter in the caption under the carving was a c or an s.
“Then you’ll need my help.” The woman announced. “Sarah Hannigan, Magical Theorist.” She added as she held out her hand.
“Mike Nero,” Mike replied as he shook Sarah’s hand, “in desperate need of some help.”
“Hola Senior, what can I help you with today?” The shop keeper asked, as Mike took a long look at the tatty cape, shirt and jeans he wore. It was clear that this man had little knowledge of real magic, and was simply playing a part. Still beggars and choosers and all that…
“I’m looking for some information about an artefact.” Mike stated as he looked round the store, in the hopes of spotting something that was akin to the item Paul had been totting.
“We are not a library Senior.” The shopkeeper answered. “Or a tourist board, if you want to know something about a magical item, then test you luck and buy a book.”
“Listen this is serious, there is a zombie creating idol out there!” Mike snapped as he banged his hands down on the counter. “I need help to destroy it, remove it or something, because I don’t get paid if…”
“…if the guy you shot isn’t dead.” The shopkeeper said through gritted teeth. “I try and avoid business with murderers thank you.”
“Listen it’s not like that, I am being paid to make sure said artefact was not to be handled until it reached its destination.” Mike lied as he reached for his pistol holstered on his belt. Besides the shop-keeper, there was one other customer, a red-haired woman in her early twenties dressed in a Dazzler concert T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Somehow if he was to turn his gun on them, he doubted they would prove little problem.
“You spin a good story Jefe.” The shop keeper stated as his eyes flicked down to Mike’s pistol before a wide smile spread across his face. “On the off chance that you are telling the truth I will let you look at one book for free, after that I start charging.” Nodding in acknowledgment, Mike walked over to the library at the end of the store, and the massive book cases loaded with a wide range of tomes and treatises. Selecting a big red book bound in blue string, Mike pulled the tome off the shelf and looked at the title, trying to decipher a translation from the central European tongue it was written in.
“That’s a good read if you are interested in the application of dung beetles in apothecary and alchemy.” The woman sitting on the bean bag beside him stated, as she removed the headphones of her I-Pod, a trance cover of Enya’s Orinoco Flow flooding the store.
“Unfortunately, I am not.” Mike sighed as he slipped the book back into where it had come from. “I’m looking for figureheads on magical boats, particularly ones with necromantic properties, but all this magic stuff isn’t my wheelhouse, I’m more of a demon hunter then a sorcerer.”
“Sounds like you want the Ragnarok Codices.” The woman replied as she got up and removed a thin book, damaged by fire from the shelf before handing it to him. Flipping open the cover, Mike could see that the writing was intact after a fashion, burnt ash white against the blackened paper by an obviously mystical fire. Unfortunately, the language wasn’t anything he recognised, but after a quick flip through he found a carving of the figurehead he’d seen back in the warehouse.
“Can you read this?” Mike asked.
“Sort of, its Asgardian a language most mortals would find hard to understand, but a basic knowledge of Proto Norse allows you to get the gist.” The woman answered. “Why do you want to know?”
“It’s complicated, let’s just say that its active and making zombies.” Mike replied as he squinted at the lettering trying to decide if the first letter in the caption under the carving was a c or an s.
“Then you’ll need my help.” The woman announced. “Sarah Hannigan, Magical Theorist.” She added as she held out her hand.
“Mike Nero,” Mike replied as he shook Sarah’s hand, “in desperate need of some help.”