There was a long silence. No one has ever offered before. I spend all my time trying to get out. It never occurred to me to try to bring things into this place.
How did you get your library in there?
It came with me when I was cursed. My whole villa did. I’ll give it some thought.
Seven centuries, and life can still surprise you, I told her. I genuinely hoped she could figure it out. Life without beer? Hardly sounded worth living.
I’d barely managed a few swallows of my pilfered drink before the bartender returned. He flicked my card in my face, then snatched the beer out of my hand. “Excuse me?” I said. The gums around my bottom canines began to ache, and it took a brief force of will to keep my tusks from emerging. “I planned on paying for that.”
“You’re not paying for anything. Billy says that if you aren’t out of here in thirty seconds, you’re going to wake up tomorrow without any teeth.”
“Ah.” I kept the smile plastered to my face and stepped back from the bar. “I see how it is. You don’t think he’ll reconsider?”
“Twenty seconds.”
“Right.” I took five dollars out of my wallet and put it in the tip cup. “One quick question?”
“Real quick.”
“Do you have a restroom?”
The flick of the bartender’s eyes toward that one door was all I needed. “Not that you can use,” the bartender growled. “You be out that door in five seconds.”
“Okay, okay!” I held up my hands. “I’m going!”
I stepped outside, breathing a deep lungful of the humid spring night, and held the door open for an older woman heading inside. I massaged the gums around my lower canines. Once – just once – I wished these assholes could do things the easy way. But then again, my job wasn’t to collect the easy debts.
I could have told you where the restroom was, Maggie said.
Asking basic questions of idiots is the only social life I have. Leave me that, please.
A sharp pain like a bee sting stabbed my finger beneath Maggie’s ring. The only social life you have?
You know exactly what I meant, I shot back.
Hmph. See if I warn you the next time someone is about to shoot you in the back.
I chuckled at Maggie’s faux anger and walked around the side of the building, where I took out my wallet, flipping it open flat in my hand. My job sends me into some pretty shady places; I run into stolen goods and ancient stockpiles of loot both magical and mundane fairly often. Most of those are turned over to the proper authorities, but some of them “accidentally” make their way home with me. Maggie’s ring was one such item. My endless wallet is another. It’s one of the few decent perks of my job.
I fished through the interior of a space much larger than any earthly billfold and pulled out a mirror the size of a checkbook. The mirror, unlike the wallet, was standard gear. It allowed me to move between it and another nearby mirror. I glanced over my shoulder and continued around to the back of the building, where I spotted a tiny restroom window. Just beneath it, I slapped the mirror against the wall. Instead of shattering on contact, the glass stuck to the cinder block as if glued in place. With one more look around, I pressed my fingers to the glass.
I blinked. The world seemed to crinkle around me, and suddenly I was standing in a tiny restroom. It reeked of piss, its once-white walls now off-yellow. A single bare light bulb flickered above my head.
“Charming,” I muttered and opened the door.
The restroom let out into a cluttered office with two grimy couches, a scratched pool table, and a desk shoved into one corner. Papers, discarded food, and old clothes seemed to cover every surface. My target sat on one of the couches, his beer belly peeking out from under his stained shirt and a definitely too-young-for-him woman sitting on his lap.
“Who the hell are you?” Billy demanded.
“Out,” I told the woman, snatching her by the arm and shoving her out the office door. I locked it behind her and turned to face Billy, who was struggling to get out of the sagging couch.
“Just what the hell–”
“My name is Alek Fitz,” I said. “I’m a reaper for Valkyrie Collections, and I’ve come to collect your debt.”
The word debt was barely out of my mouth when Billy’s eyes grew wide. He lunged for the desk, jerking open one of the drawers. I was there a second later, glimpsing the gun concealed within. I slammed the drawer closed on Billy’s hand, then a fist into his gut. No need to use magic on this one.
Billy doubled over, caught himself on one of the couches, and swung at me. I sidestepped the punch and grabbed Billy by the elbow. I like to practice finesse over force when I’m able. Two decades of jujitsu allowed me to do just that. I leaned away, crossed a leg behind Billy’s, and put the big biker on his back.
You’ve got company, Maggie warned, and he’s armed.
Someone pounded on the door, and I recognized the bartender’s voice. “Billy? Is everything okay in there?”
With what? I asked.
Twelve-gauge shotgun.
Thanks to my troll heritage, buckshot wasn’t going to pierce my skin even at close range. But it sure would hurt like hell. I quickly knelt beside Billy, turning Maggie’s ring around so the ruby faced inward, and then cupped the side of Billy’s head. I could sense a trickle of Maggie’s sorcery warm my finger. “You feel that burning sensation on the side of your scalp?” Billy tried to get up. I put one knee on his sternum. “If you try to move one more time, I’m going to set your head on fire. Understand?”
Billy swallowed hard and lay still.
With one hand, I pulled out my wallet and managed to produce another mirror. This one was smaller – about the size of a credit card – and had a red thumbprint in one corner. I turned it over to read the tiny, immaculate handwriting on the back.
“William Hadley,” I intoned, “I am here to collect on a debt four years, three months, and two days past due. I do so with the full authority of the contract you made with my client, LuciCorp, and the authority of the Rules that bind mankind and the Other.” I ran my eyes over the script, making sure I hadn’t left out any important details, and paused when I got to the terms of the contract. I read it again. Then I leaned over, looking Billy in the eye and ignoring the pounding on the office door. “You sold your soul for a ‘bitchin’ motorcycle’? You’re an even bigger asshole than I thought.”
I adjusted my left hand, grabbed Billy by the face, forced open his right eye with two fingers, then thrust the mirror in front of his eye. The effect was immediate; Billy went rigid for a handful of seconds, then began to thrash and convulse like he’d been hit with a stun gun. I held him down until the count of five, then got up and stashed the mirror in my wallet. He gave out a low, pain-filled moan.
“That’s gonna hurt for a few weeks,” I advised. “I recommend icing your temples and avoiding alcohol.” He didn’t actually need to avoid alcohol, but I enjoy giving advice to people who are just gonna ignore it anyway. I didn’t personally know what it was like to live without a soul, but I’d heard it was terrible. I nudged him with my toe. “You hear me?”
You’re out of time, Maggie said, an instant before the door burst open. I caught a glance of the grizzled bartender, Billy’s frightened girlfriend, and the barrel of a shotgun.
“Shit,” I spat, leaping for the bathroom door.