Renaissance king into a puddle of bones and flesh.
Alice let out a roar, and her slit eyes were wide and bright with delight. “I’ll take that bet!” she said. “Did I win?”
VII.
Afterward, McGoo and I wrapped up the case while Robin wrote notes on her yellow legal pad for the final summary. Sheyenne took Alvina to get another sugary treat, while we arranged a petty-cash invoice to pay back the hundred-dollar bet.
McGoo scrutinized the red stain and the crumpled black velvet robes. The painted puppies looked extra sad now. “We know Mort Dred was the murderer, tearing open golems in search of the sword hidden inside.” He wiped his shoe on the grassy ground to get rid of goop he had inadvertently stepped in. “Nothing left to arrest, though.”
“Case solved,” I said. “My two favorite words in the world.”
“I like ‘payment complete,’” Sheyenne said, leading Alvina back from a vendor with a frozen blood-pop. “Maybe we can get the Renaissance fair treasurer to pay our bill?”
Robin shook her head. “Mr. Dred engaged us as a personal matter, not as a corporate contract with the fair itself.”
Moving proudly among his fellow golems, Art met each one, read their names aloud from their foreheads. The hilt of Excalibur still protruded from his chest like a badge of honor. He had also retrieved the golden crown worn by King Dred, and now he placed it on his own head, the king of the golems and possibly king of the Real Renaissance Faire.
Art said, “Serve, but not suffer. We must have rights for all golems.”
Robin walked among them, listening to their grievances. “We can file a formal motion, and I’ll approach the proper governing bodies. I will help ensure that you have good working conditions and proper maintenance.”
“I’ll help with the maintenance,” said Rettop. The Cavewight was busy making commemorative clay medallions to sell to everyone present at the event.
“And regular mud baths!” said the golem Tony. Robin dutifully wrote it down.
Alice flew overhead, thrilled now. Without her knowledge, King Dred had claimed the dragon’s entire treasure hoard as collateral, which he leveraged to finance the Real Renaissance Faire. Now that Dred had been properly squashed, Alice found that she now owned the entire operation. She was so ecstatic she did barrel rolls and loop-the-loops in the air.
“She still needs counseling for that gambling problem,” Sheyenne said, “or she’ll lose it all again.”
Art strode up. “I will be her business adviser. Instead of the Real Renaissance Faire, we will call this the Fair Renaissance Faire, so that all can feel good about themselves when they attend.”
The armored vampire knight and the skeleton knight joined each other on the jousting field, practicing with their swords. The dragon crashed down in front of them, and the two costumed knights ran forward to challenge her in a mock battle. With a beat of her wings, Alice knocked them both flat, but the unnatural knights sprang to their feet and ran into the melee, all in good fun.
“I still want a dragon,” Alvina said.
“Maybe when you’re older, honey,” Sheyenne said.
“You could have one at McGoo’s apartment for the nights you stay with him,” I suggested.
He glared at me. “Let’s start you out with a salamander first.”
REPRISE
A QUINCY HARKER, DEMON HUNTER SHORT STORY
JOHN G. HARTNESS
I’ve never liked Jersey City. It always feels to me like the sixth borough, one with an inferiority complex, a Chihuahua of a city jumping around and yipping at you while the big dogs try to ignore it. I liked it even less right after World War II, when Boss Hague was running the place with an iron fist wrapped tight around the balls of the law and you could find yourself wearing cement overshoes if you didn’t bribe the right city officials, or if your bribe wasn’t respectful enough.
I’m not really the respectful type, and I was a lot less so then. Believe it or not, I’ve mellowed. I somehow made it through my two years living in the shadow of the Big Apple, and even grew to like the greater New York metro area. But never Jersey