burn from the inside, turning it to crumbling ash that was easily washed down the drain. To say that the sight of his friend’s visage, even if it was a magickal doppelganger, crumbling away to nothing in a cheap motel bathtub was mighty disturbing was an understatement.
He’d settled his bill and then met the others in the parking lot, stepping through the passage opened by Francis and exiting in the shadow of a Toys “R” Us.
“It comes in handy,” Francis agreed, turning his head slightly to watch the perforation seal close behind them. “One of the perks of a new client.”
“Anybody I know?” Remy asked.
Francis ignored the question and turned away.
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Angus asked. “I thought we were going to get weapons, not a new bike.”
“We’re not going there.” Francis sounded annoyed, and walked away from the toy store. “What we’re looking for is this way.”
Behind a Dumpster was a fence, and in that fence a hole had been cut. One by one they climbed through the opening, into a lot filled with rows of storage lockers.
“Where are we, anyway?” Remy asked, not recognizing their whereabouts.
“Brockton,” Francis answered as he paused, getting his bearings.
“Brockton?”
“Is there a problem with Brockton?”
“No, I’m just a little surprised that you’d keep items of this nature here.”
“Let me tell you, Brockton is the perfect place to keep items of this nature.” Francis led them to a particular storage shed, number
666
“Nice,” Remy said, shaking his head in amusement.
The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Francis’ mouth as he punched in the code, and the folding door slowly climbed to grant them access.
From where they stood, it looked like the typical storage unit filled with random boxes and old pieces of furniture.
“Is this it?” Remy asked.
“This is it,” the fallen angel responded.
Angus started inside, but Francis quickly stopped him.
“Wait a second,” he said. “I’ve installed a few security measures.”
Francis looked around to be certain they were alone, then pulled up the sleeve of his suit coat and shirt as far as he could manage and removed the glowing scalpel from an inside pocket of his coat.
Remy felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end at the sight of the instrument. “Don’t tell me that opens doors, too,” he commented, watching as Francis brought the thin blade of light toward his exposed wrist.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he said, making a quick cut in his flesh.
A single drop of blood escaped the gash before it was immediately cauterized. That drop landed on the threshold of the storage place, and the sight of the items stored there began to shimmer and waver out of focus.
Remy and Angus entered the shed as Francis reached up to pull the door down behind them. As soon as the folding door was closed, the space became illuminated.
Remy turned, not surprised to see that they were now standing in a room at least ten times the size of a normal storage unit; row upon row of metal shelving housed some of the special items that Francis had acquired over the years.
Angus began to laugh, heading down one of the many aisles.
“Very nice, Francis,” the sorcerer said. “I like your style.”
Remy went in the opposite direction. As he walked among the rows, he found all manner of weaponry, from pistols to rifles, from knives to spears and swords. There were enough arms in this shed alone to fortify an army.
“Find anything you like?” a voice asked from close by.
A box on a shelf in front of him slid aside and Francis peered through from the next aisle.
“Plenty, if I wanted to overthrow a third-world nation,” Remy answered.
“Haven’t done that in a while,” Francis mused.
“How is this stuff categorized?” Remy asked. “Is it even categorized?”
“Kinda sorta,” Francis answered. “I hired a high school kid a while back to get it better organized, but…”
“A high school kid?” Remy asked, aghast.
“Yeah, didn’t work out too well.”
“Imagine that.”
“Caught her trying to lift a few ounces of my powdered saints’ bones.” Francis took a box from the shelf. “Can you imagine what a snort of Saint Pelagius would do?” he asked as he peeled back the flaps on the box to look inside. “Hey, I was wondering what happened to my bowling shoes,” he said, then placed the box back on the shelf.
“Where’s Angus?” Remy questioned.
“He’s in the paper-goods section. Found some old scrolls and texts that I bought at an estate sale a few years back. They used to belong to a combat magician I’d had few run-ins with over the centuries.”
Francis disappeared for a few minutes, and then Remy saw him heading toward him down the aisle, carrying a large black gym bag. He stopped and picked up a plastic container. “These are good,” he said, pulling off the lid to reveal tiny hand grenades. They were a coppery color and covered with strange, runic designs that made them look almost like Christmas decorations.
“Grenades?” Remy asked, as Francis stuffed the container in the bag.
“Souped up for magickal barriers,” the former Guardian angel explained. “Lotsa bang for your buck.”
Remy found a black case on a bottom shelf and pulled it off, unlatching the clasps and opening the case to reveal two black service Colt. 45s. “These are nice.”
“Oh yeah,” Francis said. “With the right ammunition, the twins can be killer.”
“And do you have the right ammunition for the twins?” Remy asked, closing up the case but deciding to bring it with him.
“In the ammunition aisle. I think they’re on special today.”
Remy’s phone began to vibrate in his pocket, and he removed it to see that Linda was calling. She had already left a couple of voice messages while he had been in the shadow place; this time she was leaving a text.
Please call. Important.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and found Francis staring at him.
“Same person that called back at the motel?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Remy answered.
“Anybody I know?” Francis inquired, and for a moment Remy wasn’t sure if his friend knew who it was or not.
Francis had had a crush on Linda Somerset, and although they had never met, the former Guardian had spent many a night watching the pretty waitress at Piazza, fantasizing about a relationship that had never transpired.
It was after Francis had gone missing in Hell that Remy and Linda met and something drew them together.
Francis had yet to be told.
“Nobody that I’ve talked about,” Remy answered.
