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Brood of a New Age

57.

Peppano Tailors had been in business for more than twenty years and Mister Peppano was the preferred tailor of the Italomobsters in New York. It wasn't a title you wanted to pin on your front door, but it saved him some of the problems others had. He didn't have to pay protection money. And he knew if any of the other syndicates got into mischief with him or his store, Dracon would take it personally. Not that Signor Peppano, being dead, would be able to muster much strength to appreciate that. Still, of course, they had normal customers and numerous orders even if everything they did for Tony Dracon and his people always took priority, of course.

His employees often had to work late into the evening. Not his sales team but his seamstresses. There was Lucina, his older cousin, who had been working here since the beginning but still spoke English as badly as if she had fallen off the boat months ago. But how could she learn English when she was sitting in the sewing room (not that he would have it any other way, she was wonderfully hardworking even though she was already wearing thick glasses and her hair was turning gray faster than his own). Then there was Pipitta, his niece, and he really wished the girl was more thorough in her stitches. He constantly had to have her work corrected by the others, which brought constant arguments with Nora.

Nora was the best - professionally - and the chubby girl was actually foreign to the business. An acquaintance of his wife, a Muriel of some sort, had sent Nora here after she had been kicked out of fashion design school for rude behavior. What this rude behavior had been, Peppano had not found out, but he did not want to know anymore. Nora was a moody thing, was impetuous and didn't have good control of her impulses, which could be seen in the garbage can in the alley behind the store, where she had gone on a rampage after Pippita had told her not to be such a capra (= goat). But she was wonderfully enthusiastic and gregarious, if you didn't rub her the wrong way, and the best seamstress he'd come across in his 50 years on the job. He checked every piece of work before it went out to customers, of course, but the pieces he gave Nora never needed alterations. Every stitch, every seam was spot on, she was almost pedantic and could turn a rag into a designer piece if she felt like it. She even had a little black book in which she had her own designs, which looked absolutely wonderful and which Peppano actually longed to see on his mannequins. But he feared that if he let Nora exhibit her own designs, she would be snatched away by a competitor, a fashion designer or a fashion design school that would overlook her behavior. As long as Peppano was at the helm of his store, he would never let her go. She was a damned natural and if her character wasn't so unpleasant and atypical for a woman, he would have set her up with his son long ago, knowing that Peppano Tailors would be well off for decades to come. But so his Antonio was scared to death of her and although most Italians appreciated a strong woman, Nora was simply out of the league for normal men. But as long as she stayed nicely in the back of the sewing room where she wouldn't scare and alienate any customers (and his Antonio, who worked in the front of the showroom), everything was wonderful.

Mister Peppano went over a wedding dress his girls had finished today one last time. Pipitta had been allowed to sew the underskirt and it was ... well, the bride wouldn't notice even if now there was already thick air between Pipitta and Nora again. But the other two had finished the bodice, Nora had finished the embroidery on the corsage with silver threads. A dream through and through.

Around ten o'clock in the evening, they were finally able to pack up.

"Good job, girls," he praised the group and meant it.

"You're welcome, boss," Nora said a little snottily. She scraped her gum, her little sketchbook, and her candy into her bag, and the others, too, under half-tired thanks and farewells, headed for the back door. But there was a loud knock at that very door and where Pipitta and Lucina shrank back, Nora escaped only a not very ladylike grunt. She looked questioningly at her boss.

"Who-who is there?" shouted Peppano, moving to one of the deep shelves where the bales of fabric were stored and pulling out a crowbar. That might have seemed excessive, but this was New York. And even under Dracon's protection, you couldn't take any chances. He didn't have a good feeling in the pit of his stomach at all.

"I'm associated with Anthony Dracon and I'd like some tailor-made suits!" a melodious character baritone voice with a strong Italian accent announced.

All three seamstresses looked at their boss. As if HE had an explanation or solution ready in this situation.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Can you ... please come back tomorrow during the day? We're closed."

"The last person who said that, I had to kick the door in," the person blocking their way out replied, sounding rather serious and somber. Not like it was a joke.

"Front door?" whispered Pipitta, looking, like Lucina, like a small animal trapped. In Nora's hand, however, gleamed a long silver pair of scissors - the sharpest in the store. She didn't move away from the door like the others, but stood there as if she was ready to ram the scissors down anyone's throat. What a devil woman.

But Mister Peppano didn't want a bloodbath in his store. He didn't want a fight with one of Dracon's men that they would never be able to win.

"I'd need two or three suits as soon as possible. Tony would appreciate that," the voice matter-of-factly said, and though the latter didn't sound like a threat, it was. Nora looked at her boss with a pissed-off this-guy-can't-be-serious-look. But Peppano dropped his shoulders. He looked, back and forth between his three female employees.

"Sorry, girls. You all know the drill. Overtime."

He strode to Nora, took the scissors from her hand. She turned and threw her bag back on her table in front of her sewing machine.

"I could barf," she growled where Pippita and Lucina settled back into their own seats, unhappily and quietly voicing their own disapproval for the circumstances.

"Be nice, Nora. Everybody, stay cool," Peppano hissed, setting the crowbar down next to the door and unlocking the back door.

"Maybe some of the display models will fit," Peppano whispered, smiling at his girls before pulling open the door.

"I don't think any of the models will fit," said the sonorous male voice, and Peppano looked up at the moment a gray clawed hand came to rest against the doorframe. Not a second later, a nightmarish creature stood in their workshop.

A few moments of silence. Then Pippita's shrill long-drawn scream.

With a fluid motion - almost faster than human eyes could have perceived - the creature took something out of its trouser pocket and with a barking "ZITTO!" hurled something in Pipitta's direction.

A thin knife pierced the wall next to the head of the seamstress, vibrating there from the force of the throw, and Pipitta instantly fell silent. Before she slumped down, unconscious.

"Fuck," Nora muttered.

"I hate screaming," the thing said, then looked down at Peppano. "I need custom suits."

Silence reigned again in Peppano's realm - infiltrated by a demonic creature that looked at him sullenly like a native of the Upper East Side as if it now expected top service. The only thing currently audible was Lucina's near-panicked gasping. The elderly seamstress was cowering in a corner with her hands clasped over her mouth as if to keep herself from screaming. But apart from the unconscious Pipitta and the Lucina in shock, there was his problem child. Who once again couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Damn! You're a gargoyle," Nora remarked and slowly got up from her chair. She dared to take a step towards the quietly standing but already rather annoyed looking creature and gawked at it shamelessly, taking in its gruesome beak full of sharp teeth, its red hair tied in a simple braid, its wings, tail and clawed feet as if she were at the zoo looking at a species of animal she had never seen before. Something the thing didn't seem to like.

"I don't like being stared at like that," it growled, its eyes shining menacingly, causing Lucina to start whimpering behind Nora and on the verge of screaming as well.

Peppano stepped behind Nora in alarm and grabbed her by the arm as she death-defyingly (or insanely) tried to walk towards the thing. So she would kill them all! But Nora slapped his fingers as if he was an annoying boyfriend and not her boss. At the same time, she grabbed a tape measure from her table and headed for the gargoyle thing.

"Sorry. You said you needed suits. We can make some," she announced. Her voice was firm and clear, even urgent and yes -joyfully excited! Further proof that genius in one area had to go hand in hand with madness.

She stood wordlessly demanding with her tape measure in front of the thing that towered over her by more than a head and where the monster - the gargoyle - had just looked angry, he now smiled in the most horrible way and stretched out his arms for Nora to measure.

.

Half an hour later, the gargoyle, who had introduced himself as Mister Dante, was standing in the sewing workshop, wearing only black boxer shorts but was covered by large cut pieces of grid sheets that had been stitched together with pins and attached this way close to his body. Clara checked the fit of the pieces as if he were a normal customer. And indeed - like a normal customer - the gargoyle made every gesture that Nora asked for so that she could estimate how she could later sew the fabric so that, despite his tail and wings, her artwork wouldn't get out of shape.

Peppano, on the other hand, sat with Lucina as far away as possible - both with large cups of baldrian tea in their hands, watching the two madmen at work. Because insane both had to be. Mister Dante, who thought that this situation was no reason to freak out for the people around him. And Nora, who worked on him and talked to him as if he were a human being.

At least the two maniacs paid no attention to Peppano or Lucina (or Pipitta, who was lying on the floor next to them, where she was not in the way) but wallowed in fashion-related shop talk.

"Black would look good, of course. But we need to find a fabric that's durable - because of the stone chips."

"I need to be able to easily knock the dust off after I wake up. A black suit is no good to me if it's gray and stained after a day.

"Mhmm. I've got something in storage that's completely impervious," she said as if she owned the place. This stimulated Peppano to draw attention to himself for the first time.

"And you're from ... Tony Dracon?" he asked awkwardly, sincerely hoping he wasn't about to sign his own death warrant. The scarred gargoyle looked at him sullenly.

"... Yes. Why?"

"Regarding - regarding the expenses," said the elderly shopkeeper, shrinking under the cool gaze of the monster and his own employee.

Nora removed the cuttings she intended to use for cutting the fabric and the gargoyle got dressed again.

"I'll come tomorrow between eleven and midnight to pick up the suits," the gargoyle said, and Peppano and even Lucina in the corner gasped. Nora, on the other hand, reeled in her tape measure as if she didn't know what the problem was. But he - Peppano had to say it.

"Sir. We - our order books are full. Custom orders to this extent take a week even with priority handling. And we have a ... waiting ...list..." He slumped back in the swivel chair in front of one of the sewing tables, eyes wide as the gargoyle suddenly approached him. It wasn't the speed of his movements that made it threatening, but precisely that he moved slowly. Like a snake moving towards a mouse. He showed a lot of fang as he leaned down to him and extended his clawed hand.

"Mhmmm, I haven't eaten anything yet tonight. And I think ... Italian would be nice again. O cosa direbbe lei, signore?" he fluted in perfect Italian and wonderful voice pitch, though it did little to diminish the death threat. The gargoyle licked his lips. More precisely, over his beak. His tongue was long and thin and a bit pointed at the end. His grin looked hungry and Peppano had to pull himself together so that he didn't piss himself. Lucina behind him began to pray quietly in Italian. But then he heard Nora's bright laugh. The gargoyle straightened up and looked at the young seamstress.

"Great bluff," she said in such a sympathetically cheerful way that even the gargoyle chuckled in his deep voice and crossed his arms.

"If Tony Dracon were to walk in here. How soon would his suits be ready?" the gargoyle now asked her perhaps because he was tired of talking to the once again shaking actual shopkeeper and was sticking to the person who didn't shit herself.

"Well, that's different."

"True. Dracon kills you in a less bloody way than I do. And he doesn't eat you afterwards, either."

Now Nora crossed her arms and grinned defiantly with an almost world-weary glint in her eyes.

"You'd choke on me, buddy."

"I don't doubt it," he purred, and neither Peppano knew whether he was referring to the buxom body or the attitude of his seamstress, nor what to make of the fact that it seemed a bit like the two were flirting.

"Special fabric, custom made and finished as quickly as possible by the best seamstress in the store will be extremely expensive, though. Is Tony Dracon going to pay for all that?" provoked in Nora further without losing her feline superior smile.

At that, the gargoyle shrugged his shoulders and looked similarly wicked.

"Well. There are two possibilities at this point. Number one- I tell the truth, and Tony Dracon picks up the tab. Two- I lie, and you have a crazy gargoyle in your store who will tear the place and you four juicy humans apart if he doesn't get what he wants. The idea of Dracon paying the bill is much more pleasant isn't it?"

Again Nora laughed as if she didn't take this threat seriously.

"Okay. The customer is king. I'll take care of the suits by tomorrow," Nora said confidently although Peppano knew that even his best seamstress would need the whole coming night and a whole day to finish such an oddly cut custom-made suit. After all, she had to include ways for the gargoyle to put the clothes on and take them off. But Nora had meanwhile taken out her notebook and with hasty strokes drew probably a rough idea how she could implement it.

"Button placket, zipper, or Velcro in the back?" she asked, and the Gargoyle put a hand to his chest in repulsion.

"Zipper? Do I look like an animal?"

"Bow tie or tie?"

"Since I don't want to retrain as a waiter, of course a tie. Made of the most elegant, tear-resistant fabric you have."

"What for?"

"So I can better strangle my victims, sweetheart," Mister Dante said, teasingly running a claw across her milk-white neck.

She swatted his hand away and now glowered viciously at him in a display of her rapid mood swings.

"Sorry. Even with customers, I decide who touches me."

"Looks so homely but is a real wild cat though, huh?"

"Someone as good with tailor's scissors and sharp needles as me, I'd treat with respect, Mister Dante."

"Point taken, girl. I always treat women with respect. Unless they're trying to kill me."

Nora relaxed once again and was again her cool, professional self.

"Okay. If I might recommend a burgundy as a tie color. That's Dracon's trademark color and wouldn't clash with your hair and uhh wing tone."

"Sure. Let's do that." His gaze went to Peppano again, a hint of that satanic white sparkle in his eyes.

"I rely on you that at least half of the payment for the suits goes to her right here. For her trouble, the extra work, and for saving your sorry lives."

Peppano nodded.

"Bene! Write a total invoice for three suits to Tony Dracon and have the bill delivered to him by tomorrow. And feel free to add a generous tip for all of you. Intended use: Suits for Dante."

I know I'm giving away too much again - but I just introduced one of the main characters of the next story i have in my head.

Thanks for reading, Q.T.