The Fox and The Wolf: A Tale of Modern Magic

Chapter 3 - A Gathering Of Scraps

If Aubrey was going to continue to be... well, Aubrey then Cicero was going to have to deal with Simon himself. If he was going to have any hope of achieving that he was going to need to gather as much puissance as possible.

While a vagabond like Cicero didn't have a personal place of power from which he could draw energy, he was not without resources in this arena.

* * *

"No," said Cicero, fondling the newest engagement ring. "Not this one either."

He put the ring on the counter of the rat-packed pawn shop, in the pile of rings he had already rejected.

"Let me see the next one."

"You know," said the burly pawnbroker, "most people look with their eyes."

"You find me someone who can do psychometry with their eyes and I will fall at that person's feet and beg to be their student," said Cicero. "Now is this all the engagement rings you have or isn't it?"

"Fine," said the pawnbroker, "but if you don't buy something after all this you are banned. For life."

He handed Cicero the next ring. Cicero rubbed it between his fingers.

"No," was his verdict, and he gently flicked it into the pile of rejects.

"What are you even looking for?" asked the pawnbroker.

"The lingering emotional resonance of a broken engagement," said Cicero.

"I don't think we have that," said the pawnbroker.

"There must be one around here somewhere," said Cicero.

The pawnbroker made a frustrated noise, but he was a firm believer in the sunk cost fallacy. He wasn't going to let all the time he had already spent humouring this madman go to waste without a sale.

"How about this one," he offered Cicero yet another ring.

Cicero felt it for a moment.

"No," he said, and put it with the others.

"This one?" asked the pawn broker, giving over yet another ring.

Cicero took hold of it and right away there was a change in his expression.

"Oh yes, this one is perfect. I'll take this."

Normally he would have asked for $100 for that ring, but the pawn broker felt this idiot had wasted too much of his time.

"$200," he said, ringing it up on his ancient cash register.

"No problem," said Cicero.

He reached into his jacket pockets and pulled out a huge pile of shredded newspapers. He looked the pawn broker in the eyes and said:

"This is money."

"Well obviously," said the pawn broker, taking the shredded newspaper and putting it in the cash register.

What kind of a moron did this guy take him for? He knew what money was.

* * *

The basement apartment had a separate entrance, and above it hung a sign that read "Jessica's Psychic Readings/Talismonger/Shoe Repair/Keys Cut".

Cicero rang the doorbell.

A young woman wearing a Cradle of Filth T-Shirt covered in paint stains answered.

"Hey Cicero!" she said. She seemed genuinely pleased to see him.