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“It’s harder to get that much stealthily these days, so I was bringing it back a satchel at time, but…I know a guy. He brought a pickup bed full, and I carried it upstairs.” He held out a glass of straight vodka. “And little by little I add it to your mattress at your apartment, too.”
The buzzer downstairs saved me from needing to reply. A quick look at the street cam revealed the local Con Crew standing at the rolldown. Jesse pushed a few buttons on his remote. It had codes for every door, window, rolldown, as well as for the security boxes for books in the shop.
I snagged the bottle of vodka from Jesse’s kitchen counter and one of my holsters. Then we went down to welcome them into the store.
Unlike the night before, I hung back from the front of the shop. The first few hours of daylight had started to make me queasy over the last year or so. It wasn’t impossible to handle, but I saw no need to get too close to the door and that disgusting brightness.
I slid my sunglasses on and leaned into the doorway.
“Hang-over again, Gen?” one of the guys teased.
I lifted the bottle of vodka. “Still drinking.”
If I wanted toactuallyget a buzz, I’d drink one of those fruity drinks with a slice or two of citrus or cherries in it. Or eat the grapes Jesse was noshing on like they were a breakfast food.
“Don’t see any point in being sober when the dead guy is properly dead,” I added. “He can’t hurt me now. So,l’chaim!”
“Is that a spell?”
“No, man. It’s Hebrew,” the second member of the Con Crew, Gary, said lightly. “Gen’s a Jewish witch.”
“A . . .what?”
“My Jewish mother found Pan or Gaia or something, so she raised me both. It makes for complicated holidays,” I said cheerily. “Also,L’chaimmeans ‘to life.’”
“To life, kid.” Gary echoed. Then he shook his head and looked at the blue-tarped body with its duct tape seal. “That our corpse?”
I nodded.
“If you keep putting tarps downbeforeyou kill them, Gen, they look premeditated.” Gary said.
“Jesse was about to dust the fans.” I pointed up at the gently spinning, dust-free fans. “Don’t want to get dirt on the books, do we?”
Gary and the other guy whose name I hadn’t learned yet both looked at me and sighed. Then Gary asked, “You think you have your magicked-up bullets and that’s enough?”
“Nah, I think I’m a witch with a few sharp swords,” I said. “No law against killingdraugr.”
“That all you kill?”
I shrugged. “If I find something or someone trying to hurt innocents while I’m strolling home from the bar, I’m going to do my civic duty.”
Gary looked at Jesse, who was staying silent.
At that, Gary shook his head. “Not your responsibility to save the city, Gen.”
I shrugged. I kind of felt like itwas.I had gifts. If I didn’t find some way to use them, wasn’t I as bad as a monster? I slid one of my swords out. “Steel and silver.” I tilted it so the shop lights bounced off it. “With spells embedded in the silver. And you know what my rounds do to adraugr.”
Gary sighed again. “Try not to die, kid, okay? I know you’ve been lucky, but you aren’t always going to be fast enough.”
I nodded because I did try not to lie more than necessary. Omitting details was a lot easier than outright lying. I mean, Icouldlie. I just felt guilt when I did it, so I tried to keep my lies to a minimum. Killing, on the other hand, didn’t bother me at all.
I didn’t know what that meant about me. I thought about it a lot, and I guess I was coping by living a blend of my mother’s faith and my own Jewish leanings. In both cases, there was an idea that we were here to make the world a better place. Nothing wrong with other faiths, but those that focused on a hell or heaven as a motivator weren’t a good match for me. I wasn’t likely to ever be able to knock on any extra-worldly doors, and even if I could, I didn’t really dig the notion that my choices ought to be guided by carrots or sticks.
I might not know why an abomination like me existed, but I figured there was a Plan. I just needed to try to make the best of it. Be a force of good in the world. Silly, maybe, but that was my goal.
Not like I was so arrogant to think I was a soldier for some higher being, no great mission or role for me. But I was here, and I had skills, so I used them. The way I used them was often brutal, like Torah and Christian Old Testament brutal, but to suggest only forgiveness in the face of hate or murderous intent was a stance that was not for me. I preferred an old-fashioned sword to the throat or heart most days. When that wasn’t viable, I went for my modified rounds and a reliable pistol.
I killed more monsters with bloody, cold violence than magic—although I let the New Orleans Police Department think otherwise.
