The Conch Shell of Doom (31 page)

Bailey took a deep breath, holding back the excitement. Remy swung open the cabinet doors, revealing a buffet of weapons. The place kept getting better and better. Julie moved in first.

“Let the kids go first.” Franklin gently pulled Julie back. “Besides, you have a sawed-off shotgun.”

Julie smirked. “Yeah, remind me again how that happened?”
 

Bailey kept his emotions in check. Remy was right. The weapons weren’t toys, but damned if it didn’t feel like he was in a toy store. One of the weapons looked like a bear trap you could throw at someone and chop their head right off. Another, looked like something that tenderized meat. Human meat. There was even…
huh?

“A boomerang?” Bailey wondered who on Earth would want a boomerang instead of, say, a flying bear trap.
 

“Not just any boomerang,” Remy said. “The Aborigines charmed it back in 1826. Only the person throwing it can catch it without injury. Anyone else tries is losing everything above it.”

“This is my jam.” Tim picked up a sword with a curved blade, eyes so wide they could’ve fallen out. “A true ninja weapon. I would like all of you to know that I’m officially going into business as a ninja for hire; my prices are firm, but fair.”

“Hey poser,” Alexis said. “Did you not hear Franklin say we have to give this stuff back?”

“I forgot to mention this will be a temporary position, so take advantage of my services while you still can,” Tim said with a bow.

Bailey had a difficult time deciding what to pick. He glanced over to see what Alexis chose. She scanned the weapons, holding a finger to her lips. Marshall reached between Bailey and Alexis, grabbing a pair of gloves with blades on them, like Wolverine, but with only one large blade on each hand. Marshall slipped them on, rubbing the blades together. They made a soft, metallic, grating sound.

“Badass,” Marshall said in a gravelly voice. “Just like me, bub.”

“What are you going to pick?” Bailey whispered to Alexis.

“I don’t know. I don’t want anything too bulky.”

“That’s what she said,” Marshall joked.

Alexis smacked him. “Shut up.”

Bailey pointed at something that looked out of place with all of the epic weapons. “A stick?”

“Would you call Jambalaya a bowl of meat and vegetables?” Remy picked up the stick, holding it carefully with both his hands.
 

“I don’t know.” Bailey shook his head. He had no clue what went into Jambalaya, only that it sounded spicy.

Remy
hmmed.
“Are you a
Harry Potter
fan?”

Alexis gasped. “Is that a wand?”

Remy handed the wand to her. “Merlin created it, if you can believe it. Not many of his are still around, but this is one of them. Say what you want it to do and flick it. Nine times out of ten, it’ll happen.”

“Even though I’m a Muggle?”

“Absolutely.”

Bailey didn’t think Alexis had ever smiled so wide before. She
squealed
and hopped in place. He was thankful it was her geeking out and not him. Marshall and Tim didn’t need more ammunition.

“Magic is in the eye of the beholder,” Remy said. “How else could a simple fisherman curse himself with immortality to stop his cursed brother throughout history? Right, Franklin?”

Franklin looked down at the floor and cleared his throat. Bailey stared at Franklin, putting the pieces together.

“That’s you? You’re immortal?”

“They don’t need to know my life story.” Franklin tapped his foot on the floor. “What we need is to go. We’re starting to run behind.”

Bailey still wasn’t sure what to pick, and with everyone else holding a weapon, pickings were slim. He took a brown vest.
 

Marshall laughed. “A vest? You that scared you’ll get hurt?”

“Who needs a weapon when you’ve got Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle,” Bailey said, referring to his fists.

“Christ almighty.” Marshall turned away, disgusted.

“It’s a good choice. It was the armor used by Ares, the god of war. Nothing can penetrate it.” Remy ran his fingers along the remaining weapons until they stopped on something hidden behind the larger weapons. “It also comes with this.”

Bailey’s mind raced. Did it come with Medusa’s head? Maybe something that shot thunderbolts? Poseidon’s trident? The possibilities were endless, so long as that possibility remained within the confines of Greek mythology.

Remy placed a whistle in Bailey’s hand, crushing his excitement. He held it up, thoroughly unimpressed. It felt like someone told him he’d won a new car, only to find out it was a Matchbox car.

Marshall and Tim burst into a giggle fit. Bailey closed his hand around the whistle, face flush with shame. Couldn’t he be the cool one for a change, or at least not the butt of the joke?

Marshall struggled to speak in between laughs. “That’s really going to impress the ladies.”

Bailey gave Remy a pleading look. “A whistle?”

“The whistle calls Ares’s Birds of War.” Remy gave him a reassuring smile. “Trust me. Just only use it as a last resort.”

“Yeah.” Bailey stuffed the whistle into his pocket, next to his little mirror. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Have any shotgun shells in there?” Julie asked.

“Or a .45?” Franklin added.

Remy tossed them each a box of ammunition from the top shelf.
This cabinet literally has everything
, Bailey thought. Even a lame whistle he could’ve gotten with ten tickets at Seaside Adventureland.

Franklin inspected the box of ammo. “These are normal bullets.”

“And?” Remy asked.

“I thought maybe you’d have something a little more extra and a lot less ordinary.”

“Afraid not.”

“Let me ask you,” Franklin said. “This is something I’ve been trying to figure out. Why doesn’t anyone ever make enchant—”

There was a loud crack outside. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Franklin stuffed the box of bullets in his jacket pocket and then took Tim’s sword.

“Hey!”

Franklin held the sword out for Tim to take. “I’m sure you’ve heard that sound before, so you know who it is. Here. Take it. Go fight Mr. Lovell on your own. Be my guest.”

Tim sighed. “Just give it back.”

Franklin started for the front of the store and then stopped. “Remy, hook everyone up with some armor, will you? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”

“Now, hang on a minute,” Remy shouted, knowing what was about to happen. “I don’t want any ruckus in the store, or I will personally shove a live crawdad where the sun don’t shine in each and every one of you. Understood?”

“It’s not us you need to worry about,” Franklin said.
 

Franklin was the first out of the House of the Rising Sun. The others lagged behind a little. If it weren’t for the streetlamp illuminating the parking lot, he wouldn’t have been able to see Mr. Lovell in his all black wardrobe next to Julie’s car.

“It’s that freaky dude,” Tim said.

“Yeah, Mr. Dingleberry.” Bailey checked the vest, making sure it was strapped on tight.

Franklin motioned for them to get back into the store. “I’ve got this.”

“You sure?” Julie asked.

Franklin nodded. “Keep an eye on them.” Julie herded everyone back inside, despite their pleading.

“I had a feeling you’d come running here for help.” Mr. Lovell cleared his throat. “Tell me, is it frustrating to know I’m always this far ahead of you?” He held his thumb and index finger as far apart as possible.

Franklin ground his teeth, trying to mask his anger. In truth, it frustrated him to no end, but he wasn’t about to give Mr. Lovell the satisfaction. “I just want you to think you’re a step ahead.”

“Then bravo, sir.” Mr. Lovell let out a raspy laugh that turned into a phlegmy cough. “By that rationale, I can only assume you
wanted
me to get the Conch Shell of Doom and start the Awakening. If so, then what can I say? I’ve fallen right into your hands.”

“Sucks for you.” Franklin tried not to flinch and show his hand too early, though he did wish he’d thought the conversation through a little more. His hand slowly moved to his back and then took hold of the Blade of Hugues de Payens. Mr. Lovell got lucky at the Copper Canyon. With the element of surprise on Franklin’s side, luck wasn’t going to factor into the equation.
 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Mr. Lovell said.

So much for not tipping my hand.

“Rats.” Franklin couldn’t keep himself from grinning. He’d been behind schedule so long, yet fate saw fit to grant him another chance to drive the blade into Mr. Lovell’s stomach, putting an end to everything and ahead of schedule. He pulled out the blade. “You really do know my plan.”

Mr. Lovell staggered back, holding up his hands. “No! The blade! Not the blade! Mercy! Please! I beg you!”

Franklin smiled so hard, his cheeks hurt. Checkmate. Mr. Lovell didn’t make jokes. Nobody in the history of the world ever referred to the man as “jovial in nature.” The humor was a blatant attempt at deflection. Franklin’s grip on the handle tightened. The gold blade shimmered under the streetlamp. It was time.

Mr. Lovell laughed again. “Do you think that toothpick scares me?”

“It should.”
 

Franklin moved toward his prey, ready to unleash two thousand years of rage. There was no mistaking it. Mr. Lovell was definitely frightened.
 

“Tell me. Does this scare you?”

Franklin cocked an eyebrow, caught off guard by the question. “Does what scare me?”

Mr. Lovell began spinning. Franklin grunted, annoyed his adversary wouldn’t fight like a man. The spinning gained momentum, and the force pushed Franklin against the store. Mr. Lovell focused his attack on Julie’s car. With the gusts continuing to increase in power, the car shook and then rose a few inches off the ground.

Yep. Using the Camaro as a weapon scared Franklin.
 

Mr. Lovell moved so fast he was a blur, his body pushing out a hurricane force wind, pinning Franklin in place. He couldn’t move forward, only side-step his way to the door, which opened toward the inside of the store. The gusts pushed the entrance open, allowing him to duck inside. Without the storefront holding him in place, the force of Mr. Lovell’s spin threw Franklin through the store and over the counter. Any potions or items caught in the line of fire suffered the same fate.

Franklin peeked at everyone from around the counter. “Get in the back.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Marshall disappeared behind the curtains.

“Damn it, Franklin,” Remy complained as he helped the others into the storage area. “Messing up my inventory.”

“Talk to the asshole outside,” Franklin said, thumbing toward Mr. Lovell.

“What’s he doing?” Bailey asked, looking out at the blur surrounding the Camaro.

Franklin ran out from behind the counter and grabbed Bailey as the car came crashing through the storefront. Wood, glass, and crocodile skulls flew everywhere. Franklin shoved the kid behind the counter, the House of the Rising Sun seemingly caving in on top of them. Franklin covered his head and waited for the storm to pass.
 

Silence. No gusts of wind or anything else. Either Mr. Lovell was gone, or he was simply waiting for Franklin to show himself.
 

“No time like the present.” Franklin glanced over the counter. The Camaro was only a few feet from his face. Outside, there was no sign of Mr. Lovell. There was a moan beside Franklin. “You okay?”
 

A vial of purple liquid shattered on Bailey’s head. The kid lay face down on the floor, convulsing.
 

“Um, uh, Remy?” Franklin called out. He wanted to help, but also didn’t want to get that purple stuff on himself.

“What?” Remy stuck his head out of the storage area and noticed the Camaro. “Oh. Look at that. A friggin’
car
is in my store.”

“Can you worry about that later?” Franklin motioned toward Bailey. “Have a little problem over here.”

Remy’s face dropped, then he took a few strands of beads to mock-strangle himself. “What color was it?”

“Purple.”

Remy’s body language relaxed. He let the beads fall back into place. “He’ll be fine.”

“This is fine?” Franklin couldn’t believe Remy’s nonchalance. “He’s having a seizure.”

“Give it a minute. All the purple stuff is for telling the truth. It’s harmless. He’ll be honest to the point of obnoxiousness for about a day, but the potion isn’t permanent.”

The others peeked around Remy to see what was going on. Alexis and Tim jumped at the sight of Bailey convulsing.

“What’s happening?” Alexis was frantic, trying to squeeze past Remy. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine.” Remy held her back. “The potion isn’t toxic, and the seizure will pass in a minute or two.”

“You got one messed up store.” Marshall eyeballed the car.

“I love it,” Tim said. “Are you hiring?”

“Look what he did.” Julie’s hand trembled. She rubbed her demolished Camaro as if it were a baby in need of soothing. “My poor baby.”

“I’m so sorry. She was a beauty.” Franklin put an arm around her. First El Cid, and then the Camaro? The madness had to stop.
 

Bailey’s seizure ended. His fingers ticked a little, then that let off as well. Moaning, he returned to consciousness. Remy let Alexis past him. She knelt over Bailey, looking him over to make sure he was okay. Franklin leaned over the counter to get a peek. The kid seemed drunk out of his mind.

“Is the room spinning fast enough for you?” Franklin asked.

Eyes glazed over, Bailey grinned, a little drool spilling out of his mouth. Alexis held his head in place with her hands, keeping it from tipping over. Franklin was impressed. He hadn’t seen someone that messed up since the San Francisco hippie movement in the late sixties.

“The drooling and other stuff is natural,” Remy said. “Nothing to get worked up about.”

“You sure?” Franklin asked. “Because if I had to guess, I’d say the kid just did more acid than Pink Floyd.”

Alexis let go of Bailey’s head. It stayed upright. She let out a deep breath. “Can you talk?”