Max and Justin had little trouble curbing their enthusiasm as they walked the streets. Over the years, what was left of Pickford’s marketplace had migrated away from the Woods, gravitating around the harbor, between the docks and the train station upshore, the better to seize any business opportunities with passing outlanders. Even so, only about half of the storefronts were even open, and most of those looked to be just barely still in business.
No sign of Shades so far, but they figured they would recognize each other easily enough after all, so they turned their attention to shopping around for supplies. Though it did dawn on Max that Shades still had the notepad and pencil Roger lent them for this project, so for now they would have to commit the basic info to memory. They were nearly out of power clips, and after their misadventures in Alta, Anchor Point, and the Woods of late, what little money they had left would require some careful budgeting from here on out.
Pickford was a small enough town, Max figured John or Amy would have been remembered, so he doubted Shades would be long searching. They all figured it would only be a matter of days before they took a ride up the coast to see what opportunities presented themselves to a crew of young adventurers upshore. Max, at least, had no travel plans until Bandit was up and moving; for now the big cat rested in their room at Pines Lodge under Moira’s meticulous, if untrained, care.
They both tried hard to shrug off the subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) looks they tended to attract from the townsfolk. After seeing the Woods for themselves, they had no trouble understanding why anyone from around these parts would be a little spooked by anyone who survived that. Mostly, they just hoped no one would close up shop just because they were in the neighborhood.
Justin also suspected that part of the looks they were getting was also because he was wearing both holsters openly. With the Woods so close at hand, he refused to go anywhere unarmed, regardless of how effective anyone thought this Sister Clarice’s wardings were. Though he left his crossbow back at the Pines, he insisted on keeping his gunbelts strapped, and as far as he was concerned, the locals could glare at his double-barrel disrupter pistols all they wanted.
Justin finally suggested, “Do you think we should try the general store first?”
“Hey,” Max recommended, “what about that place?”
Justin blinked in disbelief as his friend pointed out a basement entrance beneath some shuttered shop at the street level. Somehow that dark wood pattern managed to blend in with the local architecture, and look just like a certain basement storefront Justin entered once upon a time in Centralict, both at the same time. Even the wooden sign hanging from the wall above the door looked just as he remembered it:
Obscura Antiques & Curios.
And beneath that, the only thing different: “…For All That Glitters is Not Gold.”
“No way…” Justin breathed.
“What?” Max tilted his head at the place. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” he answered after a moment of consideration. Now he had to know. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”
Deciding that this time he might finally get some answers, he noticed another familiar sign as they strode down the steps: New location! Check us out!
As Justin opened the door, they were greeted by the same melange of incense and candle smoke and other smells he couldn’t place to this day, which he recalled from his first visit. Much like his first time, it took both of them a moment for their eyes to adjust to the gloom of a mostly candlelit interior after the late morning sunlight outside, but already Justin saw about what he expected to see. Wooden shelves lined with books and an assortment of other objects he was sure there would be a story behind each of.
Most of those tales he wasn’t so sure he cared to hear, but figured they’d be right up Shades’ alley, and Max’s curiosity was not so easily sated, either, as he could already see his friend gazing about in open wonderment.
Among other things, what stood out to Max most included the gruesome sight of a shrunken head hung by its hair; a jar of cloudy fluid, a greyish hand floating in, a ring adorning one finger; a rusty old ship’s lantern.
A crystal phial of what looked like clear water. A tiny silver skeleton key. A dark, smoky mirror.
A pile of yellowed scrolls. A deck of what looked like playing cards. A marching drum and two mallets hung from a sling on the wall.
Something Shades showed him once at that twilighty mall back in the day, which he had called a Magic Eight Ball.
To say nothing of numerous books, their spines forming rows of symbols and characters neither of them could begin to decipher. What titles Max could read included one about unspeakable cults, and something about a king in yellow.
About the only thing Justin recognized from his first visit was a small, ornate wooden box, strapped with several strips of paper scrawled over with unknown characters.
“Welcome back, young mariner,” a raspy voice greeted them. “Returned, you have.”
So lost he was in his own puzzlement, as well as his amusement at Max’s gawking, that he was caught off-guard in spite of himself by the wizened old man standing behind his ever cluttered counter. A bare bulb buzzed over his head, framing him in a hazy cone of yellow light, illuminating a dusty glass display case full of even more peculiar and morbid curiosities, and shadowed shelves more looming behind him to both sides.
Justin also recalled the sign on the counter that read: Pretty to look at, pretty to hold, but if you break it, consider it sold. And below that: All sales final.
“Oh, hi…” Max mumbled, apparently just as startled as his friend. Especially since he was quite sure there was no one standing behind that counter a moment ago. Of course, there was a dark doorway behind him, so perhaps he wasn’t. Then, the shopkeep’s words finally caught up with him, and he turned to Justin, asking, “You’ve met this guy before?”
Noticing his friend had gone uncharacteristically quiet since they set foot in here.
“Um, yeah,” Justin admitted, “but not here. It was back in Centralict…”
“But why didn’t you tell us about it?”
“Well…” For one thing, Justin wasn’t even sure how to explain this sort of thing to someone who’d never been there before. There was just something about this shop that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “After the Harken Building, and chasing the Triad and all, I guess it just didn’t seem all that important.”
Max nodded, but still appeared a touch concerned, though it didn’t take long for this place’s odd selection to reclaim his attention once again.
“So, what convinced you to set up shop way out here?” Justin quipped, figuring he might as well make conversation with the old man while Max was browsing. There was no way around the fact that Centralict had to be a more profitable market than Pickford.
“In the business of forbidden things, I am,” the mysterious shopkeep reminded him. “Hidden and forbidden, something is in these parts, so it is said. Know anything of it, would you?”
“I don’t know about that,” Justin told him, “but something happened in that mansion out there a long time ago, that turned all the woods outside of town into a deathtrap. Of course, the folks who lived there were loaded, but the house is too dangerous to explore…”
“A place of evil, it is.” The shopkeep nodded. “Tampered with forces beyond their control. Such powerful objects are rare, indeed, but those there are who would pay handsomely for them.”
“Like you?”
“Perhaps. An intermediary, I am, after all.” The shopkeep kept his tone noncommittal, having planted the seed. “So, just browsing again, you are?”
“Maybe,” Justin replied, turning back to Max, whose eyes could still not settle on any one curio for long. “Say Max, you wanna go take a look at that Castle place?”
“Didn’t everybody warn us to stay away from there?” Max finally replied as he turned back to the conversation at hand. “And shouldn’t we wait for Shades?”
“Shades’ll be fine,” Justin assured him. “It’s not like he can’t handle a little shopping. Besides, I’m not saying we go in, I’m just saying we have a look, that’s all.”
“Just a look,” Max pressed him, turning to keep up with his friend as he made his way back outside with hardly a backwards glance. Didn’t much care for the idea of Justin going anywhere near a place like that all on his own, especially with all that talk of hidden treasure hanging on the air. As he stepped out the door, he remembered his manners, and waved goodbye to the shopkeep.
Quietly hoping he’d have the chance to come back for another look as he climbed up the stairs into the daylight once again.
Even as he strode down the street, Justin spared a glance over his shoulder, to see that the strange little shop was still there this time, and wondered what that could mean.
Author's Chapter Notes:
the shop that wasn't there yesterday
