bluecollarhero (bluecollarhero) wrote in city_limits, @ 2009-01-10 15:53:00 |
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Current mood: | okay |
Break It Up, People!
There were three people standing outside of Thoth's Library. Night had just fallen, and they stood listlessly, hands in their pockets or wrapped around steaming cups of coffee. "Greg said this is when he usually shows up," one man said, scratching the stubble on his chin. Another man appeared to be talking to his cup when he answered, "Yeah, and Greg also told us he'd be back soon with the stuff to make the signs, and that was twenty minutes ago." The first man shrugged and looked up at the storefront. "What if he's in there already? What if he like...sleeps there during the day?"
The third man, this one younger and having the most resemblance to Greg Russell, rolled his eyes. "It's open twenty-four hours, Bill."
It was Avery's night off, but he had wanted to pick up a book he left at the shop the previous night. When he approached the store, he paused in his tracks and took note of the little group. The vampire sidled up to them casually. "Is there a sale going on or something?"
"Nah, we're gonna protest one of the employees." The tall man, Bill, lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "We're pretty sure he's a vampire."
Avery raised his eyebrows, looking surprised. "No way. Really?" He shook his head slowly. Tsk tsk. "What's the world coming to, I tell you."
He was going to have to put the truck in the shop again. It was making a fairly alarming noise as he located a parking spot and eased the vehicle into it, as if the muffler was about to drop off right there in the street. He wondered if there was a noise ordinance on this street. Probably so, since it was in the business district. Thankfully there were no blue-and-white cars that signalled the presence of Chicago's finest, which meant he at least wouldn't get a ticket for leaving what would look like an abandoned vehicle here.
The shocks creaked as Bastian eased his weight out from behind the wheel, and the Ford raised up a couple of inches as if in gratitude. The door clunked shut behind him, and he crossed the street to get to the storefront McDonald's for his junk food fix. The coffee drinkers on the sidewalk watched him go by, their expressions suspicious, and when the Cajun returned with a bag and a large cup of coffee one of them broke away from the little knot of men and approached him.
"You here for the protest?" They'd put up a couple of flyers scrawled on plain sheets of white paper, and they hoped to draw a crowd. Maybe a newsvan would even come out with a camera. They were going to need publicity to get rid of the bad element in there. Bastian looked down into the other man's face, then over at his huddled companions. ""Didn't hear about no protest, me," the former Marine said, lifting the cup to his mouth. "Whass goin' on?"
The man who'd broken away from his companions looked first in one direction, then the other. Bastian followed suit, wondering if the fellow was a bit drunk. "Vampires," he said in a stage whisper, and one of the other 'protesters' took a step in their direction as if to bring the conversation to a halt. "You're gonna protest vampires."
"No, man, there's one in there!" the stranger said, and Bastian looked at the storefront. Thoth's Library. Either this gent had been at the sipping whiskey or there was a real member of the undead in that store. He paid lots more attention to the news now than he had as a younger man, and things had changed in the last year or so. A large hand tucked the bag into the deep pocket of his jacket, and he padded over to address the youngest of the men gathered there.
"You part of dis, son?"
"Nope," Avery said honestly. He glanced over at the newcomer, then back at the small group. "I just stumbled upon them and they started talking some nonsense about vampires." He was about to say something further, when a booming voice behind him interrupted his train of thought. "That's him!" Avery turned, rolled his eyes upon seeing Greg Russell standing there with a bag from Walgreen's in his hand. "That's the vampire who works there. Why haven't you been protesting him?"
He tipped his head toward the man beside him. "I'm really not a vampire."
Everyone's attention was on Avery now, and he shifted uncomfortably under their collective gaze. "I think I'll be going now."
The carpenter wasn't sure of what to do, so he took another drink of coffee and started up the stairs to the book store. He didn't like the looks of the scrawny one in the lead, and he'd seen that kind of face just before combat. First it was four guys, then it was ten, then twenty, then a hundred, all of them hysterical. Hysterical was bad.
"Vampire, huh?" He held the door open for the kid, propping it with his foot. His cheeseburgers were getting cold. "Why dey pick on you?"
Avery hustled after him, slipping past the door and closing it behind him before pulling down the 'Closed' sign. He was sure Logan would understand. "Because I work nights and I'm pale?" The vampire shrugged and went over to the counter and picked up his book. He studied the cover for a moment before looking up. "I do work here, though, they have that part right." Approaching the window and peering out, he could see Greg and his buddies starting to construct signs out of poster board.
The bigger man made a snorting sound, took out his burgers, looked around at some of the shelves. "Folks got too much time on dey hands," he said disapprovingly. "Surprised more people ain't formed up militias an' whatnot, since all dat claptrap last year." He shook his head, unwrapping the grease stained paper of one cooling burger, took a bite.
"Spend so much time lookin' for somethin' to bother 'em, it makes 'em get silly."
The vampire frowned at the thought of even more 'vigilante' groups like the ones below. "I keep to myself, and I don't bother anyone." And that was true, at least. Avery wondered what would happen if the crowd grew, if they got more agitated. He was't particularly eager to find out. Looking back curiously at the man eating the burgers, he asked, "You're not from Chicago, are you?" Avery wasn't particularly worldly, and he couldn't place the accent, he just knew it sounded some kind of Southern.
"Nuh. Louisiana, Acadia Parish, down near Crowley," Bastian said, wiping sauce out of the corner of his mouth with a thick thumb before popping the digit into his mouth. "Sorry if I ain't 'posed to eat in here," he added belatedly. "I didn't get supper earlier, and my stomach was rubbin' up against my backbone." He patted his belly with his free hand, making a rueful face.
"You kinda young to be workin' in a place like dis by yourself."
Avery shrugged good-naturedly. He figured he'd grant the man some leeway, seeing as how he didn't join the crowd and turn against him. Besides, as long as he didn't touch the books, there didn't seem to be much harm in it. "I don't work by myself all the time." The vampire scratched his ear idly. "I'm 19. I'm used to...taking care of myself."
He started to hold out his hand for a shake, but eyed the sauce on his fingers and thought better of it. "I'm Avery, by the way."
The Cajun wiped his hand on his jeans, which were old, soft with age and lots of washings. "Bastian. Nice t'meet you. An' you nuh worry 'bout dem." A sharp head tilt towards the sidewalk in front of the store. "Dey get bored, dey go home, find something else to fret themselves gray-headed over." Another head shake.
"I haven't been in here before," he added, giving the tall bookshelves another look. "Ya'll de real t'ing, or you jus' trying to make a dollar?"
"Well, it depends on what you mean," Avery replied amiably. "I don't have a lot of working knowledge on magic myself, but I happen to know that this place is witch-approved. So yes, I suppose we are the real deal." Witch-approved, that was a good one. Maybe they'd use it in a future ad. He ducked under the counter, and grabbed a stack of napkins from Subway that had been tucked there for later use, handed them to Bastian. "McDonald's tends to cheat you on the napkins."
He wondered how other vampires would have handled the situation outside. Probably would have gone out there and ripped out their throats, and that would have been the end of it. Then again, if Avery had been that kind of vampire, he most likely wouldn't have been working there in the first place.
The older man accepted the napkins, set them on the table next to him. "When I was comin' up, I know a conjure woman, me," he said. "De white magic. She see omens in everyt'ing. She a wise ol' lady, though, and folks pay mind to her. In days like dese, dey pay more mind than ever. Since the crawlies came out into de light, everyone saw. Whedder dey wanted to or not."
He regarded Avery with a solemn expression, then smiled, somewhat spoiling the grave words. "Never know when you need a little outside help, huh?"
Avery returned the smile, resting his back against the counter. Things had died down a little after the holiday season, that, or the group outside was chasing customers away. He really hoped that the latter wasn't the case. "I suppose that's true." The vampire had received quite a bit in the way of outside help, himself. "So what brought you up to Chicago?"
He had raised his voice in asking the question, for some kind of chant had started outside the store. Avery attempted to ignore it, focusing on the man's answer, instead.
"Work. Came outta de Marines, decided to get some schoolin'," Bastian said, giving the door a mistrustful look. Somebody should go out and have a word with those gents. And the kid didn't look like the type to be confrontational. "Took up carpentry, been doin' construction off and on for a few years, just to pay the bills until I get dis other business off the groun'."
He held up his meaty hands as if for inspection, displaying callused palms and work-battered knuckles. "I make furniture," he said with some pride. "Mostly small stuff right now, but once I get enough money socked away I'm gonna go to it full time."
Avery raised his eyebrows slightly, impressed. He remembered the awkwardness that had been him in shop class, attempting to work the plane. "Are you going to open up a store?" The vampire wondered briefly if they had found the back door to the shop; if not, that would be where he was going to exit from later on. "Chicago is a good place for a business. Lots of people need furniture, that's for sure."
The phone rang, interrupting the conversation. Avery picked up the receiver, held it to his ear. "Hello, Thoth's Library." After a moment, his smile faded into a frown. "I think it would be best if you called back when the owner of the store is present. Yes. Goodbye." He replaced the phone in its cradle and turned to Bastian.
"That was one of the local news stations. I guess someone down there called them."
"Nah, I got a workshop behind the house," Bastian said with a headshake. "It used to be just a shed when I moved in, but I cleaned all the junk out and converted it to workspace. Cheaper than renting a place, and it makes it easy for folks to come by and pick up their orders when I'm done."
He looked at the now-silent phone, lifted his weight off of the arm of the chair he'd been sitting on as he ate. The second wrapper was wadded up and tossed into the wastebasket. He wiped his hands contemplatively, tossed the napkin in afterwards.
"You wan' me to go out dere, give dem a talkin' to?" He pointed at the door, his big hand waving slightly. "You old enough to go into de service yourself, but they prob'ly take you for a kid. Grown men sometimes got a hard time listenin' to a kid."
Avery looked at him worriedly. He didn't want to bring anything resembling trouble to Logan's business. "Do you think that's a good idea? I don't want a fight starting, or anything." The vampire wondered if there was some ordinance against protesting on a downtown street. The whole thing was making him anxious, and where was Logan anyway?
"You nuh worry, I nuh fight," the ex-Marine said, waving the words away as if erasing them from existence. "Man ought to have more on his mind dan stirrin' up fuss. I jus' gonna talk." The fact that, in the past, it had been him stirring up the fuss was something he refused to dwell on. He'd been tempered in his time overseas, made more thoughtful and less likely to do first and think later. He looked at the door again, started towards it. One hand reached down into the his gray button-down shirt, tugged out a silver cross, a present from his mother when he'd sent word he was going to the Middle East.
The little group of protestors was marching back and forth on the sidewalk in a ragged line, signs held aloft as they kept up a disorganized chant. "Dead go home! Dead go home! Dead go home!" Bastian barely managed not to roll his eyes. These gents should take a tip from some of the anti-war groups he'd watched on television, the college kids who'd shouted and screamed themselves hoarse during that whole debacle. At least those kids could come up with a decent slogan.
He started down the stairs, approached the obvious ringleader. "Can I have a word wit' you? Jus' for a sec."
Avery hung back from the door, watching the scene carefully. He had his cell phone in his hand, though who he would call besides the police, he didn't know. If the men got out of hand, he could conceivably break it up, but it would be a bit counter-productive in refuting their claims.
Greg lowered his sign, turning toward the larger man with an annoyed expression. "Yeah, and who are you?" The chant slowly died down as they realized their makeshift leader had stopped protesting.
"Jus' a concerned citizen," Bastian replied easily, looking the others over. "Was t'inkin' mebbe you should break dis up an' go home. You're borderin' on disturbin' de peace." He settled his weight on his heels, a polite smile on his face. A reasonable man.
"Why you wanna make a problem where dere ain't one? Ain't no vampire in dere."
The sign-holding man planted his feet firmly on the ground, as if to say he wasn't about to go anywhere. "I just saw him go in after you." Still, his expression wavered a bit, registering just a hint of nervousness. He was still in the process of acquiring a protest permit.
Avery took another step outside of the door, and the crowd began chanting again. Greg jabbed a finger toward him. "He refuses to touch a cross. Did you know that? And I've never seen him working during the day."
The vampire mumbled something about attending school.
Bastian side-stepped, put himself between Greg and the lead sign-holder. His chest was a solid wall, the cross glinting on his dark shirt. "Mebbe he's a pagan," he suggested, also pointing in Avery's direction. "Dat ain't illegal, las' time I looked. Place like that shop, I'd be surprised if he wasn't. Reckon you must work durin' the day, since you out here after dark." The Cajun's mouth twitched. "Unless mebbe you a vampire, pointin' de finger at someone else to keep de heat offa you, huh?"
Clearly startled, the youngest of the protestors glanced quickly at his compatriot. "Greg? He's joking, right?"
"Well, you never know 'bout dem bloodsuckers," Bastian said conversationally. "Hidin' in plain sight is de bes' defense." He leaned down a little, getting up in Greg's grill. "You wanna embarrass yourself? Go 'head. But leave dis boy alone, he just a kid. Ain't you got no shame?"
Greg was clearly getting increasingly uncomfortable. "You can't just go around accusing decent people of being vampires." He paused, backtracking. "People other than him, that is." He crossed his arms, poster paint from the sign smudging onto his jacket. His group of protestors all imitated the gesture, and Avery threw up his hands.
"Okay, that's it. I'm calling the cops. I really had hoped it wouldn't come to that..." He glanced over at Bastian. He was grateful for the man coming to his defense, when they had just met not twenty minutes previously.
It was mob mentality, and it boded ill. Lynch mobs had been formed for lesser things. "Might wanna make sure you got bail on you," Bastian said to the small gathering of men, speaking more specifically to Greg himself. A guy like that deserved a night in jail, just so he could cool down and give his over-worked imagination a break. Vampires, for the love of God. Like they had jobs or something!
"An' you likely to meet somethin' worse dan a vampire in lock-up. Might not wanna take a shower tonight, you."
Avery nodded solemnly behind Bastian. Greg looked back at his companions, scratching the side of his head in an obvious attempt to think things through. After a moment, he set down the sign, motioning for the others to do the same. "This isn't over," he informed them. "We're coming back here as soon as I secure the permit. Even if we do have to protest from across the street." Greg turned on his heel, picking up his belongings as the others followed him.
The vampire watched them leave, cell phone still in hand just in case. "I guess the jail threat did the trick." He turned to re-enter the store, holding the door open for Bastian. "Thanks for that, by the way." He sounded a little downtrodden; he had no doubt they'd be back to cause more trouble.
"I see men like dat before," the Cajun said, pointing at the retreating gents, feeling discomfited. "De Corps is full of 'em. You nuh worry, though. Most types like dat, dey all hot air an' not much else. You call police next time. De blue-and-whites straighten t'ings out."
Inside, Bastian looked around, wondered if he could afford anything in here. Those books looked pretty dear. "Ya'll got anything on the cheap?" he inquired, feeling a little embarrassed. "I ain't never gonna be no rich man, me."
Avery gestured to some of the candles. "These are affordable. Oh, and there are some herbs and stuff, and some of them even smell okay." The vampire knew the books could be pretty steep, especially the ones locked up in the back. "If you wanted anything, I could give you my employee discount. It's the least I could do."
A little lightbulb went off in his head. "There's a book about omens, as a matter of fact. I think it just came in like two days ago, and maybe you'd be interested?" He approached the 'new arrivals' display and picked up the book in question. "28 dollars, and with my 30% discount that would be...$8.40 off. A little less than twenty dollars, for you."
Bastian looked at the front cover of the book, accepted the object. He'd gained a respect for books once he'd taken some college courses courtesy of the GI Bill, and he tugged out his wallet to fish out a ten and two fives. "I appreciate it, Avery," he said in thanks, tucking his purchase under his arm. "I should prob'ly be getting on home. Got to work early tomorrow."
He put his empty coffee cup into the trash can, eyed the younger man. "An' watch yourself leavin'. Hate to see you bein' part of de news."