Adventures In Space And Time

Chapter Seven

While Clayton gathered the things we would need for our "heist" of Gringotts, I took the liberty of examining the room.

Fifteen minutes later, I turned back to him, a blank piece of paper held in my hand.

"What's this?" I asked as Clayton looked up from where he was meticulously sharpening his knives. He motioned me over and stared at the paper for a good three seconds, forehead wrinkled, before looking up at me, head cocked to the side and eyebrow raised quizzically.

"What are you showing me this for? I already know I'm crazy."

"Wait, what?" I asked, turning the page back to me. It was still blank. Clayton's brow furrowed again as he said,

"You can't see what it says?" Suddenly, his face cleared and he raised his eyebrows in an expression that said: "Now I get it!".

"It's psychic paper! And-" he said, his eyes brightening, "It gives me an idea!"

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Three nights later, I stood leaning against the wall of an alleyway, waiting for Clayton. He had said he just had "to take care of some things" and that he would be back in thirty minutes, but... That was five hours ago. I shivered in the chill wind and pulled my trench coat tighter around me. Without anything else to do, I once again inventoried the contents of my weapons belt as I muttered angrily against the mentally insane. Sword? Check. Laser cutter? Check. Lock picks? Check. Smoke bombs? Check. Ballistic knife? I patted my belt pouches frantically, trying to find it.

"I know I put it in here, where is it?!" I muttered. "Wait..."

Suddenly, I froze, eyes narrowed as I realized where it was. I whipped around to find Clayton behind me, brandishing the knife.

"Looking for this?" he said, wearing a grin that I really wished I wasn't seeing in a dark alley.

"Yes, actually," I said, taking an involuntary step backward.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I've kinda grown attached to this knife, and-"

"Give it."

For a split second, black anger flashed in Clayton's eyes, and I began to fear that he would use the knife on me, but he handed it over anyway.

I quickly re-sheathed the knife, and we started walking together down the alley.
Suddenly, I stopped and turned to Clayton, saying, "Hang on, do you even know what vault the elder wand is in?"
He tapped his forehead and said, "That's one of the things I went out to do, as well as-" he put a hand behind his back and drew out a revolver, "-this."
"What?!" I yelled, dumbfounded, "You can't bring a gun to a bank!"
"This?" he chuckled, "This is no ordinary gun. This is a Colt Detective Special. It was manufactured in the United States starting in 1927, and it's one of the shortest snubnose revolvers to date. With a barrel length of only two to three inches-"
"-Clayton, hush," I interrupted. We had nearly made it back to the main road. "And, please, put the gun away. I'd rather not get arrested."
"Okay, okay," he said, rolling his eyes as he shoved the revolver back into his waistband.

As we turned onto the darkened high street, I drew in a breath of cool night air. I felt great. It was the perfect temperature, not too warm, not too cold, but with a little bite to the wind. I adjusted the collar of my borrowed trench coat as we continued walking toward the edge of the village.
As we walked along the road, Clayton looked at me and asked, "Why did you decide to wear a trench coat again?"
"I told you this before, the camouflage program on my sword malfunctioned, so I need to wear the coat to hide it. And... I just like trench coats..." I trailed off, thinking of a certain angel who also liked trench coats.
"Oh. Okay." he said, still a bit confused, and we lapsed into silence once again.