Chapter 9: Take Five

　　"Hello? Is there anyone there?"

　　He repeated once more, only to be answered by the dial tone.

　　Morgan stood by the telephone stand, tapping his hand on the metal box. The bustling crowd around him made it difficult to tell whether or not he had connected to the operator. Not to mention the rainy day that arrived. He kept saying "Hello?" for so long that his throat felt sore and his mouth felt dry. Gripping on the handset tightly, his leather gloves creased with tension.

　　He hung up the phone shortly afterward, leaving it hanging by the cord, and walked down the street in the pouring rain. There were a few people who had umbrellas ready, while he walked along the street, the rain hiding his crocodile tears. He checked out a card he swiped from the telephone stand.

　　"Having a rough day, tough guy? Come relax at the Easy-Peazy Inn! We can make you feel heaven with just the touch of our hands."

　　A woman in a skimpy lingerie lay on the corner of the card, pointing her finger to the text above. He tossed the card away shortly afterward.

　　The Redlights. It`s a great place to drown in vice and pleasure. It has the best entertainment in the region, women from every corner, and the best bars. It was the only place where they sold Ledkien Lagers in the south. Morgan hated it, only the bars were worth the visit there. There were so many men that you`d think they`d be grilling sausage. You would think they would instead be interested in that sweet and delightful taste of fresh melons. Bah, not to mention the burlesque shows. None of the action, all the suspension. The vivid memories of one-night stands keep him up at night, and that alone makes him sure to steer away from the place.

　　He would love to rest in that shack with the old pup or play cards with Roland. But, there was an arduous task at hand. Those two girls were back at that weird shop in front of him. Built into a brick home: Milton`s Bazaar, the sign on it said.

　　Morgan stood against the brick walls of the shop and lowered his hood. It was getting stuffy, and with the rain beating down on the ground, he was sure no one was watching him.

　　He could smell that dewy smell that always comes when it rains, and he shivered. The air around him was bitterly cold. A man was snoring right next to the door, knocked out by the bottle of brandy by his side. His beard was scruffy. He smelled of sour vinegar and was holding the bottle as if it were a teddy bear.

　　Morgan squatted and prodded on the man`s pot belly. It protruded out of his shirt, held only by a single button.

　　"Hey, buddy." He whispered into his ear. "Wake up, it`s morning."

　　"Gah! Who the hell are you." The man hissed, protecting his bottle of brandy.

　　"Nobody special. You smell like shit, man. Go and shower in the rain. You will smell a thousand times better."

　　"You wake a man up in the middle of his dream and tell him to shower? What kind of a barbarian are you? You go take one, you fucking idiot!"

　　The drunkard quickly went back to his slumber, slamming his head onto the wooden floor.

　　A cruel fate these people bear, Morgan thought. He stood up once more and peeked into the window.

　　Lucille and Belinda were moving constantly along, checking the various items. A man was following behind them, rubbing his palms and showing them so many things like paintings and other luxuries.

　　Pushing the door open, a chime echoed through the small shop, announcing his arrival. The space was filled with an eclectic mix of items, ranging from dusty old books to ornate vintage furniture. There was a strange smell in the air. Muffled jazz played from a gramophone by the window.

　　"May I help you?" A quiet, slimy voice greeted.

　　He stood upright, well-groomed, his hair slicked back in a dignified mullet. He seemed to greet Morgan with his hand motions, moving as if he were trying to get him to come and take a look at the wares.

　　"It`s not often I get many customers since I opened up shop a few months ago. So, it`s pleasant to see people come and visit and talk to me. Your name, good sir?"

　　"Uh, Morgan."

　　"Morgan? Pfft, that`s kind of girly. Name`s Milton Giles, humble owner of this grand bazaar!"

　　Morgan raised an eyebrow. He instinctively held his fist together and changed his stance: Back straight, chin up, and sizing up the shopkeeper. Yet, he maintained a polite smile.

　　Then, the shopkeeper said, "Sorry, if I offended you. Where I`m from, Morgan is a pretty popular name for women. My mother`s name is Morgan, fun fact."

　　"I see." Morgan felt his blood boil.

　　"Mr. Giles." Lucille chimed in, "Have you ever been to Sordveld before?" She held a book in her hands, written in a strange script.

　　"I found this on one of the shelves, where did you get this?" She said with an effort.

　　"Oh, that? Pfft, an old client of mine gave it to me and said that it`s cursed or something. I`ve never been to Sordveld or what not but from what I hear, that place is cuckoo land, hear."

　　"Yes, it is cuckoo land," Belinda said. "Hey, do you have any cigarettes around here?"

　　Mr. Giles scratched his head, "Cigarettes, you say? Well, I don`t usually keep them in the shop, but I might have a pack tucked away somewhere." He began rummaging through a drawer behind the counter, eventually producing a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes. "Here you go, but be careful with them. Smoking`s not good for you, you know."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it`s taken without the author`s consent. Report it.

　　Belinda then took the pack.

　　"That`ll be five ducats."

　　"I`ll pay it before I leave," Belinda replied casually, slipping the pack into her pocket.

　　Lucille, however, seemed more interested in the mysterious book. "So, you say this book might be cursed? Do you have any idea what it contains?"

　　Mr. Giles chuckled nervously, "I told you. I don`t know what`s inside. Kids, these days would read anything. Now, is there anything you want to buy or not?"

　　He then held on her shoulder and began walking her around the other shelves. "There`s more to see over here..."

　　Morgan looked around the store some more. This store was less of a store and more of an art exhibit. Everything inside, from the furniture to the wares inside appeared to be painstakingly perfectly placed. All parallel, with no room for mistakes. The jazz playing sped up, and as Morgan explored the store further, he noticed a diverse assortment of curious objects on the shelves. There were antique trinkets, peculiar sculptures, and strange artifacts that seemed to whisper secrets of bygone eras. The dim lighting added an air of mystery to the place and the occasional creaking of the floorboards added to the charm of the old shop.

　　"Is there anything else that catches your eye?" Belinda asked, sidling up to Morgan with a playful grin. She seemed drawn to a display of peculiar-looking crystals.

　　"Not really. My mind just floated around."

　　"Well, then could you come here for a moment? I just want to ask a few questions."

　　Belinda then dragged Morgan, by the ear, into the aisle. She lit up a cigarette from the pack and started smoking.

　　"What was that for!"

　　"Listen here, you squirt." Belinda pointed. "I don`t know what exactly happened a few days ago, but my sister was shaken up by something big. It`s made her a bit more... silent lately."

　　"What`s that supposed to do with me?" Morgan confusedly said.

　　"You didn`t see that look in her eye? She`s terrified! The woman you work with from your guild was concerned with the terror."

　　"I`ve got nothing to do with it. Whatever Marina says, I was at the beach sleeping with my pup. I couldn`t even hurt a fly or kid, I`m a hunter for fucks sake. This protecting thing I`m doing is a part-time job for me, capisce?"

　　Lucille peeked in, "Are you two doing alright there?"

　　"We`re doing fine, sis. We were just discussing some... business he`s tangled himself in." She said, puffing the smoke into Morgan`s face.

　　"H-huh, what`re you— cough!"

　　"Is that so? Have fun you two." She skipped away into the aisles of the shop. Then, the jazz music playing in the background cut off and left a static screech blaring in the muffled speaker.

　　"Let`s take this outside, squirt."

　　The two stepped out into the alley behind the shop. The rainfall became gentle, but Belinda still kept herself protected under the umbrella, leaving him in only his hood.

　　"Who are you exactly, Morgan? `Cause it sure seems that everyone I met says something else about who you are."

　　Morgan grunted, "I`m Morgan, just a no-nonsense fella. That`s all that I have to say."

　　"Is that it? I don`t believe you, you`re just the scum of the earth."

　　"What will it take for you to believe me then? Everyone knows of my vices! You`ve heard it from them, haven`t you? That I`ve been sleeping with the hags of this town and doing some fuck ups, but I`ve been going down the straight and narrow for some time now."

　　Her demeanor seemed to soften slightly, finally making eye contact with him. "This doesn`t change anything, but this is all just too strange. I can`t shake the feeling that something is off about you. You`re a mystery man, no doubt Morgan."

　　"You`re a mystery as well, woman."

　　Belinda then threw the cigarette away onto the wet ground. The two stood staring at each other for a long and drawn-out period of silence.

　　"Fine, I guess it makes it easier for the both of us."

　　"I guess so."

　　Morgan extended his hand to Belinda, who did the same. They shook their hands and nodded to each other. The rain stopped, but the clouds remained in the sky.

　　-break-

　　When Kenneth was a boy, his father knelt before him and told him many wondrous stories. All of those stories were compiled into a book that he`d been writing for the past few years of his life. The stories had a fantastical side to his journey across the world and displayed the black face of evil in all its hideousness. They were much of a joy to him in the years since he passed.

　　The book sat on the bookshelf, among all the books Father Orville had donated. Most were copies of the Codex from various years like 1564 or 1754. The book, however, had a distinct smell from all the other books. A cinnamony aroma along with coffee or nutmeg, strong enough to make someone nearly faint.

　　He sat on the table, quietly uttered a prayer before the Lord, and started eating his dinner. Although it was not as good, it reminded him of his mother`s fantastic cooking. She volunteered in many of the church`s services and helped many of the old soldiers coming back from the war. Perhaps the sight of her doing that brought him to follow her footsteps.

　　Then, there was a knock on the door.

　　"Coming!" Kenneth said, annoyed that he wouldn`t be able to finish his food in peace.

　　He unlocked the door, and opened it&

　　But to his surprise, there was no one there. The threshold remained empty, the night holding its secrets close. Confusion flickered in Kenneth`s eyes as he scanned the area, searching for any signs of the mysterious visitor. A chill ran down his spine, unsettling his thoughts and making him question the reality of the situation.

　　"Hello? Is anyone there?" he called out, his voice echoing into the stillness of the night. Yet, there was no response, only the distant sounds of nature whispering in the darkness.

　　"Is it one of you kids again?" He again called out. "Come on! Is there anybody out there?"

　　Perplexed and slightly unnerved, Kenneth reluctantly closed the door, locking it once again. Doubt and curiosity tugged at his mind, urging him to unravel the mystery of the phantom knock. But for now, he decided to set it aside, focusing instead on the unfinished meal before him.

　　Then, another knock came about. Right when Kenneth was about to put the spoon back into his mouth. He stomped on his way to the front door, unlocked it, and swung it open.

　　Instead of a cheeky visit from nothing, there was someone at his door. It was Mrs. Baxter, a frail old woman who was stuck in a wheelchair. Right behind her were Mr. Lee Baxter, the bartender, and loving son.

　　"Good evening, Father McCurdy." Lee politely greeted the confused Kenneth. "I was wondering if you would be able to see my mother. Poor mumsy was uttering something about seeing the Devil walk the earth."

　　"Devil walk the earth?" Kenneth said, skeptical about this claim. He looked back onto his dinner, where a fly stood on top of the potato mountain. He grumbled, before turning to the mother and son.

　　"Can you do something about it Father?" Lee pleaded. "I know it`s late, but this is serious!"

　　Inside Kenneth`s mind, he felt a bad headache forming. He felt tempted by the dark force on his shoulder. He wanted to slam the door and return to eating his modest dinner. But, the look on old Mrs. Baxter`s face. He knew the old woman well, she was an old friend of his mother. and he fondly remembered the apple pies that she would bake. If he slammed the door on her, it would be a betrayal of his mother`s last wish. He sighed, massaging his forehead as he stood by the doorframe. Then, he gently closed the door and rushed to dress up. He quickly opened the door and stood there wearing his priestly clothes, crucifix and Codex in hand.

　　"Come in, Baxters. We best discuss it inside my home for now."