Chapter 32: Chapter 32: Supernatural Dealings

Chapter 32: Supernatural Dealings

The heavenly realm is quite the place, as Jack will find out. His duties include escorting Balon on shopping trips. What he doesn't know is, that one day, they will enter the black shop near the Pantheon of the God of Smiths.

I honestly don't know why Balon, the forest terror, makes me come along. I mean, he has a bottomless bag. Would it kill him if he carries it himself?

"Now, don't complain, Jacky. Surely, you would like a break from battling the army of dust bunnies back home?" the strange being teases me, and I snort.

It is hard to fear someone, who you have seen in a pink bathrobe, with fluffy slippers, that have bunny ears on them.

Not that the humiliation of having similar items was something I have been spared from. Balon likes equality in everything, even in something as insignificant as clothing.

"Would you please stop reading my thoughts? Can't I have some private moments, occasionally?" I snap at the man. He chuckles, and then takes a left turn. Hm, we have never been around this part of the heavenly realm.

I look around, at the rough stone buildings. Smoke is rising from the chimneys. Isn't it funny, that even gods need fire, to keep warm? Every so often I wonder if they are not just immortals, and that silly people like the priest back home, have given them more importance than they were due.

"Interesting theory, Jacky. Don't think too hard on it. Hesp might end up hitting you over the head with his hammer, if he hears," Balon then turns right, and I see a black building among all the gray.

"What is this place, my lord?" I ask him. Long have I found out that I will not die by his hand. Yet, I would rather not test him.

"A brand-new shop, that opened about the same time, that you got strapped to the stone slab. I have been itching to visit, but I hear that they don't accept money," my eyes widen at that.

Is Balon going to sell me in exchange for some pretty trinket? He stops, and turns around. More like whips around, really.

"Oh, would you stop that, Jacky? Just how did I end up with such an image in your head? Come now, don't I make sure you are fed, watered, and paid? I mean, I even gave you your very own pair of bunny slippers. I dare say that I should be given an employer of the year award," he accents each word with a finger wave. This makes me feel like a misbehaving dog.

"I am sorry, my lord," I tell him, more than a little annoyed.

"Sure, you are," he doesn't seem to buy it, but just turns around, and then walks the rest of the way to the shop.

He enters first, and I waver at the doorstep. When I don't cross it, a hand reaches out, and takes a hold of my elbow.

"Come on, this will be fun, Jacky. Maybe we can find a vacuum cleaner for you to combat the dust bunnies with," the thing about Balon is, that he says the strangest things, sporadically. Just what is a vacuum cleaner?

The bells chime, when I enter. I don't remember it doing so when Balon entered. Strange.

"Ah, a customer. Welcome to Thas's Antique Shop. Where we have everything for those, who are willing to pay the price," a chipper elf says, and then waves us to the counter. "Now, if I can have your attention, please read the note that is glued on the counter. I just tire of explaining the same thing time and again."

My eyes search for a note, and then I find it.

Welcome to Thas's Antique Shop.

You are reading story Short Stories With Fangs at novel35.com

We do not accept money!

Memories, Hopes and Dreams, and Life Years. Only!

Please and Thank You!

"Ok, ok, I am game. Give me the one thing, that I will like the most," Balon says, as the elf shakes his head.

"No, sorry sir. We do not accept payment from immortals. Their memories are too potent, and too warped in musings. Although, if the gentleman with you would like to trade, then that is another matter."

I look at Balon, who looks in my eyes with hope.

"What will happen, if I give up my memories here," I don't buy, not even for a second, that he didn't know he would be denied.

"Nothing much. They are duplicated, and you won't forget them. Now, Jacky, I really need a luck potion. But for that, you will have to give up a grant memory, ok?" Balon asks, and then claps me on the back. "Think about it. If you get me the lucky potion, I will give you a pay raise."

"Whatever," I snort, and then turn to the elf. "I will give you my most cherished memory, but, I do not know which one it is. How are you even going to get it from me, anyway?"

"Oh, I just require a drop of blood," the elf gets out a ring, and puts it on. "Give me your finger, sir."

I reach out, and feel the pinprick of a needle. The ring glows, and then a screen appears.

There, right before my eyes, is something too bittersweet for words. The memory is a clear one, despite me not being older than three when the event happened.

There I am, with my mother and father, cooing at a swaddled baby. I sense the tears running down my eyes, and I hope that the bastard of a deity chokes on his luck potion.

"Hey, Jacky, you have a sister?" Balon asks, bubbly as usual. "Can I meet her? If she is your sister, she is sure to be a beauty."

"If you have wanted to meet her, you shouldn't have left her for the wolves," I snap at him, and run out of the store. I collapse by the wall of it, looking at the sky.

Margie, if you are watching, I am sorry. I am sorry that I bowed to the one who left you to die. But I am a coward, sweet sister. I was a coward when you were taken, and I remain one, even now.

 The tears flow like a river, and the sky gets smudged. Good, I would rather not see the sun, while she cannot.

Part 2 of the Unlikely Partners.

 

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