The Cavalry is Dead

Chapter 1: My Flower Shop Explodes and Things Are Bad

Jax was arranging a bouquet of gardenias when his shop exploded.

Glass rained down like teardrops, scattering under golden birdcages and clay pots stuffed with horn-shaped flowers. Jax set down the ribbon. He could hear a piercing scream, followed by something that could have been either claws or teeth ripping into flesh. Across the counter, the customer adjusted his monocle.

"Oh, dear," he said. "Loud today, isn't it?"

"It's worse in the evenings," Jax said.

The customer nodded at the scattered glass. "Hope you have insurance."

"Of course," Jax said, knowing full well that he did not have insurance, nor even a working kettle. "Do you want these gift-wrapped?"

"If that's not too much trouble."

Jax cut a piece of pink ribbon, humming as he tied it. "Blooms and Brooms" was quiet today; his assistant, Sara, had begged off about an hour ago, citing a nasty green rash (Sara was always suffering from a rare but curable disease; she'd had dragon boils just last week). Only Jax remained, along with two dozen plants and a pegapiglet.

More glass shattered. He glanced at Bibi.

The winged piglet was curled up on his desk, her snout tucked against her soft pink belly. Her snoring had taken on a dramatic, nasally quality since the customer entered the shop. Jax would have bet every gold coin in his purse that she was listening to every word they said. Not, he reflected, that there were many coins. But still.

"Here you go." Jax lay the flowers carefully on the counter, avoiding any glass. "That'll be twenty gold durla."

The man didn't reach for his purse. "Is it true?"

"What?" Jax asked.

"Are you...?" The man looked sheepish. "You know."

Jax sighed. "Yeah. I'm his cousin."

He didn't need to specify who. He only had the one cousin, and anyway, nobody was more famous than Persophecles; it was like being related to a minor god. The customer leaned forward, squishing the gardenias.

"Wow." The customer shifted, and the gardenias took on a flat pancake look. "I'm such a big fan of him. That thing he did with the gorgon? And destroying the nixie lair? That was so cool. I still think about it."

Jax looked at the crushed gardenias. "Did you want these put in a box?"

"What's he like?" the customer asked.

Jax shifted the bouquet. "Persophecles?"

How to describe his older cousin? Jax frowned. Once, he'd worked up the courage to ask out Maggie Matheson, the mapmaker's daughter; Percy had insisted on accompanying them on their picnic and lounged around shirtless, licking cheesecake off his fingers. Percy and Maggie had gone out for a month after that and then his cousin had broken Maggie's heart in a six-word letter. Jax still couldn't eat cheesecake.

Jax rummaged in a drawer. "He's just like any older cousin, I suppose."

The customer nodded, apparently satisfied. "I thought he'd be like that. No big head. No ego. Just your everyday man that comes home to his family."

Jax pulled out an oat cake. "Right."

"And tomorrow's the big day, isn't it?"

"Yup," Jax said.

The customer rifled in his pocket. "Do you think Persophecles would sign my pocket square?"

"I think he's a bit busy," Jax said, looking pointedly at the shattered windows. Screams drifted through the cavernous space, accompanied by the sound of metal striking flesh. The customer visibly deflated.