Interruption Three -- Thunderstruck
"I thought I told you
not
to leave the house while I was gone," Miriam said to him for what felt like the seventh or eighth time in the last ten minutes. "I was
very
clear on the matter."
"And I told
you
that I felt almost compelled to go out, and that it was also this damn Midas Day thing that I was warned about," Kevin said to her with a sigh. "But I can see you don't believe me, which is why you're going with me to talk to the wizard."
"You keep saying that," Miriam replied, "as if constantly saying the word 'wizard' over and over again is going to make it sound less insane."
Kevin shrugged. "I don't know what else you want from me. I'm being as open and honest about all of this as I can be, so it's up to you what you do and don't want to believe."
"Why are we walking there, anyway?"
"It's not that far, and I feel like for some strange reason the only way to approach the bar is on foot," he shrugged. "You don't believe in magic anyway, so you can see all this for yourself."
"If I see anything that freaks me out, I'm yanking you out of the bar and taking you home."
"I think it's really
not
up to you, but I guess we'll see. That's the place up there," he said, as Geoffrey's Gambit came into view. The Liquor Outlet next to it was in far better shape than he'd seen it a few weeks ago. The window that had been plastered over with cardboard had been fixed, and bars had been put over each window to give the building more of a fortress vibe. Even with all the imposing bars and grating, however, the store looked less hostile than it had before, as if an actual effort was being put into keeping the building in less dismal shape. It wasn't until his second glance that he noticed one of the windows on the Liquor Outlet was now a stained glass image similar to those on the shop next door, this one portraying a giant man cutting into his own arm, the blood dripping out on top of a keg, the bottom of which filled the mugs of dozens of tiny people.
Geoffrey's Gambit itself hadn't changed at all, and still looked like it didn't belong in a Los Angeles neighborhood, with its wooden front and almost frontier vibe. None of its windows had any bars over them, and the only sign of outward modernity was the neon OPEN sign illuminated in the main front window, the lone of the tavern's glass that wasn't stained glass.
"You're telling me that there's a wizard in yon olde timey pub-y?" Miriam said.
"You just keep making jokes and we'll see if he turns you into a frog or something."
Kevin and Miriam entered the tavern, and he waved to the bartender. "Hey there, Seamus," he said to the giant monster of a man. "How they hanging?"
"A bit sore an' a bit t' the left," he responded, his voice still dripping with Irish brogue. "He's in his booth in th' back waitin' for ye." He reached behind the bar and pulled out a tall wide brimmed glass, setting it atop the wooden bar. "Your usual, I reckon? An' fer the lady?"
"The lady will have a club soda," Miriam said. "She's working."
"OooooOOOooooo..." Seamus said with a laugh. "As m'lady wishes. I'll have'em back for you in two shakes, but best not to keep the old man waitin'."
"I heard that, Seamus," the voice of Merlin said from the back corner of the bar, as the bartender stuck his tongue out at him and tossed two fingers in the air in his direction.
The two of them walked deep into the bar, heading towards the booth in the far back corner. Merlin was nestled into it, his back to the door, and for half a second, Kevin wondered if that was bravado or just disregard on the mage's part.
Merlin looked much like he had last time Kevin had seen him. He still had fingers covered in rings, his hands covered with tattoos of all sorts of unusual symbols and drawings, all something Kevin suspected was part of the man's magical defenses. Instead of the pin stripe suit, however, now he was wearing a Panamanian hat and a Hawaiian shirt that hung incredibly loose over the man's wiry frame, his exposed chest covered in a thick nest of black and gray hairs. He also had on large wooden circular glasses over his eyes, and he was writing or sketching in a moleskin notebook. Off to one side was the same copy of "Infinite Jest" he'd seen weeks ago, and he thought the bookmark looked as though it hadn't moved.
There was a woman seated across the table from him, somewhere in her early twenties, pretty enough, Kevin supposed, but it was Los Angeles, and nearly everyone was pretty enough. She was dressed quite provocatively, with an incredibly low cut top that seemed like her generous tits were threatening to spill forth at the slightest amount of encouragement. She had blonde wavy hair that hung down to her collarbone and a piercing set of light blue eyes that refused to look away from Merlin. In front of her was a rolled up scroll of parchment, and her hands were folded atop of it. Her lips were painted a bubblegum pink, and she was fidgeting impatiently.
"I signed your damn contract," she said to him. "So do I get it or what?"
He tapped his pen atop the page he'd been doodling on, as if he was considering it for a long moment before he set the pen down and moved to rip the single page out from his notebook, taking it in his slender hands, folding it in half before placing it down on the table, setting his palm atop of it.
"And you're quite certain you read that contract thoroughly before you signed it? You're willing to do all the things it asks of you without reservation? You have until you pick up the paper to change your mind," he said, sliding his palm and the paper across the tabletop from his half of the table to hers. "I wouldn't want to be accused of being unfair."
He lifted his hand up and she pushed the scroll across the table at him before grabbing the sheet of paper greedily, tucking it into her cleavage, as if pressed against her tits was the only place she felt like it would be safe. "Whatever it is you're going to ask me to do, it'll be worth it."
Merlin shrugged with that millenniums-old grin. "Then the only final piece of advice I have to you is to follow the instructions
precisely
in every way, shape and form. Practice the words out of context before you go through the ritual, because even the slightest mistake can have disastrous repercussions that would be no fault of mine."
" As long as you've got pronunciation guides on the paper, I'll get it just fine," she said with a viper's smile. "I'm quite exceptional with my tongue."
"I'm very certain that you are, my dear," Merlin replied, placing his hand over the scroll, taking it off the table, tucking it into a satchel that rested alongside him. "Go. Enjoy. I will see you soon enough to collect on my end of the deal."
"But the contract said--"
