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Standing amidst a
pile of cardboard boxes, most of them open and partly disembowelled, Harry was
waggling a phone at me urgently; when I flipped off the music, he smiled.
“The Orc Quarter
is on fire, love,” he informed me. “The fire chief like you to pop over and
take a peek.”
I felt my brow
knit. “I’m sorry, the what?”
“The Orc Quarter
in Schenectady.”
“Schenectady,” I
said, seeking clarification, “New York...”
“Just the place,
yes.”
“Has an Orc
Quarter?”
“Well, I assume
they must have, ducky, if the Schenectady Fire Department is ringing you up to
attend to it,” he chided and then tried to hand me the phone. When I scowled at
it, he clucked his tongue.
“There are two
preternatural biology labs in Manhattan, and a branch of Gold-Drake &
Cross,” I said. “Why do they want me?”
“One wonders,” he
agreed. “Shall I inquire?” I rolled my eyes; Harry mistook this as a request,
and spoke into the phone. “Might one inquire as to why you are requesting the
presence of Ms. Baranuik of all people?”
I sighed and
downed the rest of my espresso, wishing there was more; I had a feeling I was
going to need it.
Harry relayed,
“The fire chief says the Schenectady police have one resident in custody and he
is refusing to talk to anyone but the Litenvecht Späckkenhuggar.”
I waited for the
rest of it. When there wasn’t any more, I prompted, “And?”
“Apparently,
ducky, that would be you.”
“I’m the
Licken-Vicken Spackle-Hugger?” I pointed at my chest with a gloved finger. “I
am?”
“Quite so.”
“What the hell is
a Lite-Brite Spunk-Shucker?”
“Since the
Orc language is a largely borrowed tongue, and Orcs originated in the area now
known as Sweden, I’m going to translate the phrase roughly as either ‘small killer
whale’ or ‘little Orc killer.’”
My jaw dropped.
“But I’m not the little Orc killer.”
“This I know.”
“I’ve never even
seen an Orc outside of blurry videos and a preserved foetus in an UnBio lab
library.”
“This does not
surprise me in the least. Nevertheless, the fire chief would like you on site
as soon as possible, and when you’re done with that, the Schenectady police
have an Orc in custody with whom you should speak.” When I did not take the
phone from his outstretched hand, he noted, “My heavens, but your
entrepreneurial spirit certainly does leave much to be desired.”
I was tempted to
answer the phone with “how did you get this number?” but I figured that might
not be good customer service. Instead, I listened for sounds of drooling or
panting or chewing on the other end, and when I heard no such monster noises, I
cleared my throat.
"Hi, there! I'm the
Licken-Spicken Spacken-Hacker, how may I help you this morning?”
Creepy covers! Excellent for a Friday the 13th post :-)
ReplyDeleteKaren @ For What It's Worth