Page 28 of Magick and Lead
“How much for it?” I demanded as he held the ring up, inspecting it.
“This?” he snorted. “Two bucks.”
I glared at him.
“The gold isn’t real,” he said. “And this gem? Not a diamond, sweetie.”
I took the ring out of his hand, pressed the diamond against the glass top of his case, and traced a circle with it, leaving behind a scratched spiral.
“Hey!” the man exclaimed.
I put the ring in my mouth and bit, then held it out in front of his face.
“See the scratch in the glass? The dent in the gold? It’s real. Twenty-five.”
He took the ring out of my hand, then his beady eyes went to the dragon stone necklace I wore.
“How about we say fifteen and you throw in that necklace?” he asked, leaning forward and gazing at the swirling, faintly glowing sliver colored gem. “What is that, anyway?”
“No,” I said. “The necklace isn’t for sale.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, looking tiny and beady in his huge, pasty face.
“A cripple girl like you, in here all by yourself…” he grinned. “I could just reach out and snatch it off your neck, how about that?”
I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I couldn’t help myself. I called on the stone’s power. The air in the shop stirred, a small whirlwind, ruffling cloths, tipping books, jingling jewelry, and sending the ash from the man’s cigarette dusting through the air.
His eyes went wide with surprise, then terror. His cigarette fell to the floor as his mouth dropped open.
Abruptly, I stopped the wind.
“Try to take the necklace, and I’ll take your arms and legs off your body. Then you’ll be acripple, just like me. Twenty for the ring. And you throw in a dress.” I glanced to my right, where a white-painted wooden figure stood wearing a ball gown. “And the arm of that statue. And... what do you call the things people wear to keep a broken arm in place?”
The man looked stunned. “A sling?” he asked.
“Do you have one?”
He nodded. “Actually, yeah.”
“Good. A sling. And a glove,” I said. “Black leather.”
I stood tall, shoulders back, doing my best impression of my queen mother.
“Please.”
For a moment, I thought Mike the Prick was going to balk. But then, slowly, he reached over to a contraption on the counter and pushed a button. The machine dinged, a drawer slid open, and the man took out a greenish slip of paper money and handed it over to me.
“I’ll get a screwdriver to take off the mannequin’s arm, Miss,” he said in a small voice. He rose from his stool with such deference, I almost expected him to bow.
It was all I could do to keep from smiling.
13
CHARLIE
I’d gotten other medals before. I’d even had them pinned on my chest by the president. But the Platinum Star I was about to receive was different. It was the highest military honor the URA had to offer.
From the time I was fourteen years old, all I’d dreamed of was becoming a highly decorated ace. Now, it was happening. And yet, as I sat on a floral couch in an anteroom of the presidential mansion, I felt nothing. Or… that’s not quite true. I felt guilt. And shame. And loneliness. And foreboding.
