Salem's Civil War (Book Five of The Silver Society)

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

He still didn't know why he was in Salem. Massachusetts, of all the random places, but his vision had been clear. He needed to be there, and he needed to be there immediately. Still, he wasn't sure what purpose this location change would serve.

He started unpacking the essentials, leaving the rest of his possessions in boxes in the hopes that he would leave soon. He lifted each of his beloved guns carefully out of their boxes, polishing them one at a time before placing them strategically throughout the apartment. Massachusetts might not have as high a crime rate as some of the other places he'd lived, but he liked to be prepared for anything. Years of experience had taught him that if something could go wrong, it probably would. It was better to err on the side of caution.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the antique full-length mirror that had come with the apartment. His tan skin was set against his long, curly black hair, which was held back in a ponytail. He was extremely muscular, more because staying in shape often meant staying alive than for any vain reason. His dark brown eyes stared back at him almost accusingly.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," he said to his reflection, "so stop looking at me like I'm insane. I had a vision. I followed it. They've never steered me wrong before." Silently, he added, Of course, there's a first time for everything...

His business line rang. He let the newly purchased answering machine pick it up. The recording was automated, the way he liked it. People didn't need to hear his voice until he decided it was time.

"Hello, Sir. My name is Erylia. I hear that you deal in a business that may be of use to my associates and I," a female with a deep voice said. "Please give me a call as soon as you can. I think you'll find my proposition quite tempting." Her voice promised things beyond money. Hints of vampiric Seduction radiated off of her through the phone line.

She's a bold one, he thought. Few people came on  quite that strong when requesting his services. She left her number, and he jotted it down.

Almost immediately, the telephone rang again. "Hello, Mr. Blackwell," a man said on the answering machine. "I am Luigi Ossinini. I would like to welcome you to Salem, and request a meeting with you. I may have a job for you, if you're as good as the reputation that precedes you." He left a phone number and hung up.

"Two job offers in two minutes and I haven't even spread word of my arrival yet... Salem is a weird town," he said aloud. "And I thought the Bronx was a rough city."

His stomach growled and reminded him that he was hungry. It was time to get to know the town he was living in a bit before he handled business. Wearing a black suit and polished black shoes, he left the apartment.

There were witches and pirates everywhere. The Salem Witch symbol could even be found on the police cruisers. The houses were quaint, most with a nice old fashioned quality to them. These people had ordinary down to an art, but he knew it was an act. A town with a history as rich as Salem's was never ordinary.

He looked at the Salem Common and suspected he would enjoy sitting in the small park on a nice day, should he ever allow himself such a luxury. The waterfront called to him, but he walked by it, on a mission to find something edible that wasn't sold at a tourist trap. He discovered a small deli and decided to give it a try.

"What'll it be?" The short, round man at the counter asked.

"Roast beef on rye," he replied.

"Coming right up." The deli clerk turned to make the sandwich.

He's a New Yorker, judging from the accent, he thought to himself. Maybe the food will be halfway decent. Now if only I can find a pizzeria owned by a New Yorker...