3
The Missionary
Alex didn’t bother with a barrier rune this time. There was a five-and-dime just across from Pemberton’s building and he wanted to tell Leslie the good news. He held his hat down and sprinted across the road.
The rain was coming down harder than he’d thought and he was soaked by the time he reached the store. He muttered a curse and pulled out his rune book before the dampness could soak through his jacket and ruin the pages. They were made of flash paper, the kind bookies used. It was nothing more than paper soaked in sodium nitrate then allowed to dry. The benefits were that if you set the paper on fire it would burn away to ash in less than a second, great for bookies who didn’t want to get caught with evidence and runewrights who wanted to create their runes ahead of time and use them later. The downside of flash paper was that it had to be very thin, so when it got wet, it turned into pulp.
Alex stepped inside the store and a bell rang as soon as the door opened. A girl in a floral print blouse, a white apron, and a paper hat leaned on a lunch counter lined with stools. She had brown hair and eyes, with freckles on her nose and a bored expression on her face. She brightened noticeably when Alex came in.
“Really starting to come down out there,” she said as Alex brushed the rain from his coat and shook out his hat.
“You said it,” he answered with a smile.
The girl reached below the counter and offered him a clean hand towel.
Alex set aside his rune book and wiped his hands until they were completely dry.
“Got a match?” he asked, tearing a moderately complex rune from his book. The girl pulled a box of stick matches from the front pocket of her apron and offered it to Alex. He stuck the rune to his already-wet hat, put the hat on his head, then set it alight. The paper disappeared in a flash and instantly Alex felt the clammy cold of wearing a wet hat disappear.
“Oh!” the girl said, her eyes growing wide.
Steam began to roll off of Alex as the rune’s magic dried out his clothes. This was one of his emergency runes, the ones that cost too much to use on a normal day but were worth having if the need arose. One of the few benefits of being a runewright was being able to have runes written in advance, ready when you needed them.
“That’s pretty impressive,” the girl said. “I wish I’d known you when I got caught in the rain in my silk blouse.” She signed. “Now it’s all full of water spots. I hate it every time I see it but the thing cost me a week’s salary, so I don’t have the heart to throw it out.”
Alex flipped to the back of his rune book. Here were a few blank pages, ready for whatever he needed. He pulled a pencil from his trouser pocket and drew a square. Flash paper tore easily, so he went slowly and used a pencil with soft lead.
“What’s that?” the girl asked.
Alex shushed her and focused on the symbol. Inside the square, he drew a circle, then a magical symbol that looked like a lighthouse being attacked by a steam shovel. As he drew, he felt power being drawn through him from whatever place magic occupied in the universe, through his pencil, and onto the paper.
“There,” he said, tearing out the page and handing it to the girl in the paper hat. “Put that on your silk blouse, carefully light just the paper on fire, and it’ll be good as new.”
The girl’s eyes lit up. They were very pretty eyes. “Really?” she said, her voice raising about an octave.
“Cross my heart,” Alex said with a smile. She clutched the delicate paper as if it were gold foil, then a sly look came over her.
“Can you make one that’ll fix the runs in my stockings?”
“Sure,” Alex grinned. “Trade me for some poached eggs on buttered toast?”
“Hard or soft?”
“Soft.”
“Deal,” she said. She returned his grin.
“I’m Alex,” he said sticking out his hand.
“Mary,” she said, taking it. “One Adam and Eve on a raft with axle grease coming up.”
“You got a phone in here, Mary?” Alex asked as he began drawing another Minor Restoration Rune.
“In back,” Mary said, pointing, as she set a pan of water on to boil.
He handed her the rune and made his way to the phone booth. Closing the door, he dropped a dime in the slot and dialed the number of his office.
“Lockerby Investigations,” Leslie’s voice came across the line, sounding tinny and flat.
“It’s me,” Alex said. “I just got done with the police job.”
“Any luck?”
“Yeah, they hired me. I even used a Temporal Restoration Rune, but I only charged them sixty for it. Be a doll and get a bill over to Police Headquarters right away, my usual fee plus the rune.”
“I’m already writing it up,” she said. “Do you have anything else on the docket or are you coming straight back?”
“I thought I’d have lunch first.”
“You know it’s two-thirty, right?”
“I haven’t had lunch,” he explained.
“Well,” Leslie said, that business tone coming back into her voice. “Father Clementine wants to see you.”
Alex swore. “Is his roof leaking again?”
“Yep,” Leslie said. “And it’s coming down pretty hard here. I didn’t want to tell you if you had work to do.”
“I always have time for the Father,” Alex said, irritation creeping into his voice. “You know that.”
“What I know,” Leslie replied, her voice going hard as well, “is that you spend a lot of time and resources helping the Father when you should be making money.”
“Give it a rest, Leslie,” Alex said. “I owe the Father plenty. Call him and tell him I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
Leslie promised that she would and Alex hung up.
Father Harrison Clementine ran the Brotherhood of Hope Mission out of an old ramshackle church smack in the middle of the west side’s outer-ring. In former days it had been a dance hall. Now it was a large open building with a three-story dormitory attached. Alex had spent five years living in that dormitory, between the ages of twelve and seventeen. His father had been a professional runewright, scribbling away minor restoration runes, like the ones Alex had just given to Mary, for a nickel apiece. The Lore Book that he inherited had some good runes in them, but Alex’s dad just didn’t have the talent to write them. He believed that if he only worked harder and longer than all the other runewrights, scribbling away for nickels, that somehow he wouldn’t be dirt poor. The only thing he got from all that scribbling in their cold apartment was pneumonia and an early grave. Alex’s mother had split the moment it became clear dad was never going to amount to anything, so that left Alex a twelve-year-old orphan.
Some suit from city hall wanted to put Alex in one of the city’s orphanages, but those places were hellholes. Kids as young as toddlers were crammed in with kids all the way up to seventeen, and they all were run by sadists who were in it for their government check. Alex saw enough of that right after his father’s death not to want any more. That was where Father Harry came in. Harrison Clementine had been their pastor for years and when Alex’s father died, he demanded that Alex be placed in his care at the mission. When the state said that only a licensed orphanage could apply to take Alex, Father Harry got the license. In the end, Father Harry put a roof over Alex’s head and food in his belly until Alex was old enough to do it himself. The Father also encouraged Alex to study his dad’s Lore Book and learn to write runes. If it wasn’t for the Father, Alex had no idea where he would have ended up, but it probably wouldn’t have been anywhere good.