Warlock of Omaha Squared

By Hemaccabe

Chapter 4: Sometimes It Just Don't Pay

"Ed who?" Kelly asked with a look of confused disdain.

"Edmund Chebelforth, the guy who's discoveries are on display at the Durham?" I answered a bit frustrated.

"Dur what?" Kelly said with same look as before.

"The Durham is the local history museum Kelly, Jack's on the board." Miranda answered.

"Oh, so how big a deal is that?" Kelly asked.

Obviously, they were not as excited about the idea of Edmund coming to the Lodge as I was. Yes, I was a little frustrated about that. I wanted them to be impressed at what I had managed and the cool people I was hanging out with. Instead they were making me feel more like a geek.

"It's about as big a deal as Omaha gets. Further the collection has been on tour and displayed at nearly every major history museum in the country. Chebelforth the first is considered one of America's greatest explorers. That the current Chebelforth is at the Lodge will burnish the explorer vibe. More important, he's rich on an at least an order of magnitude more than me and swims in those social circles. If he likes the Lodge, and tells his friends, it could make the place a thing. Michelin stars, whole new class of clientele, celebrity for the chefs, book deals, TV shows. Is that a big enough deal yet?" I said, perhaps overstating my case and being a bit of a drama queen.

"Is he likely to show up with an entourage? If so, how big?" Miranda asked quite practically.

The question caught me by surprise, mostly because it was so obvious, and I had been so oblivious. I assumed it would just be Chebelforth and we could continue our conversation from the museum. But Chebelforth was crazy rich and not all that popular in certain interesting parts of the world, both things that might mean entourage. For all I knew, he'd move with a hundred people and need to fill the restaurant. For all I knew, he'd have a Dark Glass security detail.

"Uh, I'm not sure." I answered lamely but honestly. "I'll try to lock that down and give you a text.

I texted Chebelforth. "How many will be in your party tomorrow night?"

Less than ten minutes later I got a reply, "Just me."

Kelly and Miranda had already left so I texted Miranda the info.

Miranda's reply came promptly, "That's simple then. He'll sit with you at your table. I spoke with Anne," Anne was a waitress at the Lodge and fancied herself a bit of a photographer, "and she'll bring her gear."

I loved the idea of a portrait of Chebelforth with me, looking like cozy buddies hanging in the restaurant. And maybe the house.

I spent the next couple days running down details on a bunch of little projects. Someone on the outside might think I can devote my time exclusively to big plans and producing ever more ambitious weapons and cool toys. They would be wrong. My life accumulates remarkable amounts of paper work. Twenty clients asking for reports and updates, two universities constantly wanting to talk to me about silly niggling details and budgets, cars that need oil changes and new tires, buildings that have unique piping needing plumbers, board memberships, correspondence, it just goes on and on. Sometimes things just sail, sometimes it seems like for every fire I put out, twenty more pop up. I had just finished changing all the burnt-out light bulbs in the place when two surveillance cameras decided to die. I hoped White Man has these kinds of problems. He probably has trusted lieutenants he can delegate scut work too, being much too busy picking out his next fancy suit. I had a staff, and yeah, the cooking, cleaning and housework they did was huge. Brenda did yeowoman work in the lab and my shops. Among other things, most of the type 2 and 3 got loaded by her. Still, the extra bits of scut work always seemed to climb higher, not lower. One can imagine how my OC nature loved to feel this way.

I wanted to work on the Ulfberht sword. I wanted to test my magic and see if something had changed. I wanted to talk to Tamar about "Fox People." Instead, I was showing the plumber in and re-routing a drainpipe so it wouldn't put water on camera 17. Up and coming world power player or master of taking out the garbage and cleaning the can because tomato soup had spilled in there.

Oh, and Tamar, who I really wanted with me when I met Chebelforth at the restaurant, was in Dallas until Monday. Perfect. I was basically a tongue-tied geek while she had the gift of knowing exactly the right thing to say and how to handle people. Yes, once again raising the question of was I being handled. Were there any real feelings between us? I could feel I was moving into one of those periods where I couldn't bear her not being present and she wasn't present. On top of that, Travis was off elk hunting somewhere and Jake was in Chicago learning the ways of the wolfish force and hopefully not being killed or worse by the Fomor.

I was also nervous. More nervous than a non-gay guy should be going to have dinner with an older man. I was thinking about what I should wear and things to say.

In the end I decided to just wear my normal outfit. I'd worked out a menu with Kelly and Miranda. If Chebelforth wanted to order something specific, we would oblige him, of course, otherwise we would get a table of biggest hits like they do on the food tourism shows. Hopefully he'd like everything or at least some things so that he would tell his friends. I would wine and dine him. At the end, Anne would come and take our picture. At least, that was the plan.

I arrived at the restaurant to realize I had missed a huge detail. It was Halloween. I'm no encyclopedic expert of the supernatural, but I know something about Halloween calls out a lot of supernatural crazy. My normal strategy for Halloween is to fort up at home and be extra careful. Instead I was out and about with no backup. Secondly, everyone was in costume. I felt like a total jamoke for being dressed normally on a night like this and just in case I was feeling a little okay with not being dressed up somehow, another nice jab to all my insecurities about this meeting, the place was just rocking people in amazing costume. It also rankled because I really wanted the Lodge, and by extension me, to come off as cool and mature. Instead, the place was doing it's best to come off as a spastic teenager.

Of course, there was another level even beyond that. I desperately wanted to be the guy that thought through every move from every angle and had plans and counter plans. Then something like this would happen and I'd realize I missed a HUGE detail. Again.

At least I got to the restaurant early and got a nice parking spot. I settled into my booth with a glass of the house bourbon and ice and enjoyed the view. Amongst the crowd, there were a number of attractive young women wearing the sexy costumes of the day.

Chebelforth was supposed to show up at eight. By eight thirty, I was nervous. I had almost given up when he showed up at eight forty. The extra time to think was perfect for my anxiety. My anxiety was so grateful.

I quickly got up and shook Chebelforth's hand, "Welcome to the Lodge. I'm so glad you could make it."

Chebelforth still looked like the tanned rich guy version of the most interesting man in the world. He was wearing some slacks, a shirt and jacket, but no tie. I noticed his casually worn shoes happened to be a bespoke English make that cost over a thousand bucks a pair. He shook my hand back and said, "Happy to be here."

I noticed he was wearing gloves. Fancy gloves. More expensive than his shoes. Kind of weird though. Then it snapped. It must be some sort of costume thing! As in the costume I had totally forgotten to wear.

I had a signal set up with the Bartender, as soon as we sat down an appetizer would appear. It was my favorite, pot stickers filled with fatty smoked brisket, shrimp and other goodness. They were made fresh, never frozen, and pan seared. I don't know how many I had eaten in previous visits.

The pot stickers showed up at the table and I asked, "Is there something I can get you to drink?"

"Do they have any The Asters?" He asked.

The Asters is some very fancy, very high quality, very expensive single malt whiskey from some tiny island west of Scotland. It's only sold in one age, fifty years. It's something of a holy grail for scotch people. I have been lobbying Miranda and Kelly for a few months that it was worth the investment of buying a case, or at least a bottle. It was a lot of money to put into one thing and not being fancy whisky drinkers, they didn't get the appeal. I knew being one of the few places in the Midwest that offered The Asters would bring prestige. The nearest place that offered The Asters by the shot was in Kansas City and charged $400.00 a glass. I knew the bottles would also be an investment. As they sat behind the bar or in the storage room the bottles would get older and more valuable. If something happened to the distillery, the price could skyrocket. I think I was making headway in lobbying for the drink, but it was not in inventory yet.

I was desperately hoping the bartender, Bill I think his name was, would play it cool, just apologize and say we didn't have The Asters. Then I would want Bill to offer some of the better whiskeys in inventory. Unfortunately, Bill was hired to watch the bar so that Jake could have some nights off. That meant Miranda and Kelly had hired Bill to fill Jake's shoes, or really, Jake's tight pants, not because he was bright. So instead Bill said, "What's The Asters, I've never heard of that? Is it a special martini?"

Perfect answer to make the place seem low class and ignorant. It was all I could do not to groan.

"Uh, no. Don't worry about it. Just give me a glass of the house red please." Chebelforth responded politely.

Sigh.

As we waited for his drink, I smiled and said, "You should try the appetizer, they're very good."

Chebelforth smiled patronizingly and daintily picked up one pot sticker and ate it. Then made no comment on the food but went on to say, "I'm glad to see you tonight."

He was? Wow. Maybe this wouldn't be a total cluster buck.

Chebelforth continued, "I understand a Miss Katherine Chambers has come to live with you?"

That was weird. Why would this guy be interested in Tamar? But I still answered, "Yes she has."

Chebelforth continued. "You may remember me telling you that my grandfather was a bit of a wastrel. Sold off some of the artifacts in the collection to support his habits. Apparently, one object has somehow come into Miss Chamber's possession."

I had no idea what this guy could be talking about and blurted out, "I'm sorry, but most of her possessions were sold off or given away when she came. They were just discount store junk and cheaper to get rid of and re-buy here than move."

Chebelforth smiled another patronizing, world weary smile, clearly requiring some effort at patience, making me feel like a complete dunce and said, "There was a small ivory statuette. Perhaps a foot tall. I imagine it would be Egyptian in appearance. It was not sold or discarded. My investigators determined it had been shipped here."

"Oh that. Yes, I remember it." I answered ever so suavely. Not.

"I'm not demanding anything. I'd give you a good price for it. But I really must have it back." He said.

The statuette, which I now remembered so well, was sitting on a table in Tamar's cottage.

"Well, it doesn't belong to me, it belongs to," and I almost said "Tamar," but with an ever so subtle jerky pause, managed to say, "Katherine. And she's not here tonight. She'll be out of town for a few days. When she gets back, I'll ask her."

"That would be ever so kind. Please let me know. You have my phone number. Have a pleasant evening." Chebelforth said.

Then Chebelforth got up and left just as his glass of red wine showed up. He had eaten a grand total of one pot sticker. Great. He had probably been held up wherever he had actually eaten dinner.

Anne showed up to take the picture about five minutes after Chebelforth had left.

On the positive side, we were able to cancel most of the food we had planned.

I stayed in the booth which Miranda and Kelly could really use and sulked. Despite being miserable, I was also hungry and that couldn't be avoided so easily any more so I accepted all the items that couldn't be stopped and ate. Normally, I won't have more than one drink in a week, but I was now in a mood. By the time most of the plates were empty and my belly was full a total of three bourbons had gone down with them.

I was feeling lonely, stupid and more like a stupid geeky spaz then I had felt in years. I was sitting in the booth nursing the third bourbon's ice trying to decide if I should have desert or just go home when she walked up.

She was wearing the heck out of a little black dress. It was a two-piece version of the Channel classic showing a lot of midriff, and vaguely gave a sense of sub-continental India. She had also accessorized with a little black clutch and matching heels that had to be at least five inches tall.

However, the real noticeable thing was her costume. She was blue. Every bit of her that showed was blue. He hair was almost black, but when a light would hit it, one would see that it was midnight blue. Her skin was a deep ocean blue. Her lips and nails were painted a darker blue. Her eyes were blue, even her sclera was faintly blue. And the whole thing was hot. I was enough of a geek to remember Captain Pike and the green dancing slave girl. The blue set off all the same circuits in my brain.

I was once a comic book fan but hadn't paid as much attention in the last couple decades. I remembered something about blue people in Marvel comic books and assumed she was doing one of the more modern female heroes. Good for her.

She walked up to my booth and said with a charming foreign lilt, "There's no place else to sit down, do you mind if I join you?"

This had never happened to me before at the Lodge. In fact, there were not that many other times, period, that a girl has wandered over to me without benefit of seeming.

Her request made sense though. As I looked around, the place was hopping, there really wasn't anywhere else to sit down. "She'll probably just sit for a moment, maybe make some pleasant chit chat, and then leave to join her friends, or perhaps I'll just abandon the table to her since I'm just about ready to leave anyway. No doubt the Lodge could use the table for paying customers." I thought.

So, I said, "Sure have a seat. Always nice to have some company."

She smiled and sat. My booth is a horseshoe and I was sitting at the back. I expected her to sit at one of the ends, mostly keeping an eye out for friends or another place to sit. Instead, she scooted in a bit, which did amazing things to her top. She didn't end up sitting right next to me, but she was way closer than she had to be.

She had a glass of wine, but she said, "What's good to drink here?"

"I don't drink much," I said, "but the house bourbon isn't bad."

She raised two fingers to Bill who came and got her order for bourbon.

I was settling back and ready to be ignored when she turned and said to me, "Come here much?"

My well lubricated mouth decided to answer before my brain could vote, "Why yes I do. In fact, they save me this table."

"Really? I love this place. I think it's the best restaurant in town. I really like the explorer lodge theme, it gives the place some class." She responded with a foreign lilt in her voice vibrating straight to places deep inside me. More importantly, it was the sort of indirect compliment I really needed at that second.

I smiled and said, "Glad you like it. I've never seen you here before?"

"Well I only discovered the place a few months ago and it's not easy getting a reservation." She answered and it made sense. It wasn't easy to get a reservation.

"May I ask your name?" I asked.

"Novi," She answered. "And you?"

"Jack Fox." I replied and then continued, "Are you hungry? Is there something I can get you?" I asked.

"Not that's on the menu." She said with a sly smile.

"Are you waiting for someone?" I asked.

"Yes, and I'm hoping he stops asking me silly questions." She asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Perhaps we could go somewhere else and have a nightcap?" I asked hoping I wasn't totally misreading her.

"I thought you'd never ask." She said.

Wow. I knew I wasn't sending any seemings out. Yes, I was taller and more buff these days, but I knew I still exuded nerd. I knew women didn't come to me for my looks. My illusory clothes were a blazer suit with blue suede oxfords. So, she wasn't likely responding to my dazzling style. I'd been sitting alone morosely eating some dinner, not trying to look cool and available. But this crazy hot girl wanted to go home with me. There was a time I would have been confused and stuttered my way out of this, but with a bit of success with the fairer sex some confidence had come, and I got my next question out.

"Would you like me to follow your car or would you like to follow mine?"

"I came by taxi." She announced.

"Then perhaps you'll let me give you ride?" I asked.

"I imagine it would be a well reciprocated favor." She replied.

We then proceeded to get up and out of there. I put her in the passenger seat of my truck and zipped us the five-minute drive home in three.

We ended up in the garret. Our bodies immediately clenched as we struggled to take off our own clothes and remove the others. When the clothes came off, she was hotter underneath than the clothes promised, and they had promised a lot. We were in the bed fast and it was good. She was strong and lithe and seemed to know how to move in ways no woman ever had with me before. It was amazing. After several hours of bliss, during which she was able to accept my full new appetites, at length, she fell asleep in my arms and I, drowsy from the drink and the intense pleasure, fell asleep as well.

The next morning, I woke up at five. I'd been having a nasty dream. I'd shot a girl and she'd been hollow, like the time I met Cassie. Except the girl had Novi's face. I looked around and noticed the bed was empty. At first, I figured she must be in the bathroom or something. I got up and looked around and didn't find her. Then I got nervous. I popped out a tablet from a hidden compartment below the cabinets in the kitchenette and started going through security footage. It took a while, but I saw that Novi had gotten up at 2:58am, got dressed and made her way from the garret to Tamar's cottage. Novi did a good job avoiding security cameras, but my surveillance is in depth. She had tried to use the areas that had been covered by the dead cameras that I had replaced the previous afternoon. She came out of Tamar's cottage with something about a foot long, wrapped in a towel, and proceeded to jump the wall and disappear into the night.

Great.

I've mentioned before that I may be weak and unschooled, but I do have some advantages. I can work with technology which is something most human mages can't do. I also have pretty good sight.

As I understand it, most human mages are as blind to supernatural illusions as any muggle. However, they can open what is generally called the "Third Eye" and see through many illusions. There are consequences to opening this Eye. You see things you may not wish to see in a way you might not wish to see them. Then you can't forget them. Ever. I can open this eye and have done so, but you wouldn't need a whole hand to count the number of times I've done it. Just about every time I've done it, I've ended up puking my guts out, and I hadn't been looking at anything that bad. I could just imagine my response if I got a good look at one of those Ctulhu-esque Fomor. I'd probably be rendered incapable of self-defense from insanity and puking as they casually popped me in the head.

However, I had developed an alternative. I could put energy into my regular vision to see through illusions, seemings and surface appearances. I was pretty good at it, though I always knew there would be those out there better at hiding and deceiving than I was at seeing.

That said, I had to have the brains to use my vision or I would definitely not see anything. Last night I was so desperate to salve my bruised ego I hadn't even looked at Novi. Clearly Novi wasn't a muggle.

I had a pretty good idea what Novi had taken. Now I would have to explain to Tamar why something that was hers had been stolen. That reason being I couldn't keep it in my pants and was stupid. What a wonderful conversation to look forward to.

Now if Novi had taken the statuette, that meant Chebelforth was likely not a muggle as well. Once again, the desperate lonely ego had managed to convince me not to take a basic step for my own self-preservation. Great.

I had to think that Novi and Chebelforth were in cahoots. It was way too much coincidence to think that Novi would come after the same statuette, just after Chebelforth had asked after it and the two not be linked. If there was one good thing about this whole situation, it was that Chebelforth would be happy because he got whatever it was that he wanted and would go away.

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