Strange Aeons [Book 1]

1. The Man in the Office [part II]

An Irish, a Russian and a Mexican live in a three-rooms apartment near the Boston Docks.

You're just a Jew short of a wonderful joke.

They had been living there for the last five years, since they raised to the rank of XIII Coven, and had been finally cleared to leave Losertown.

The apartment, that all three had, strangely in accord, democratically named "Casa Pollos", was cozy and practical, and when Banshee didn't have to battle Chico, Vopros, or both, for the use of the bathroom, it was good. Of course, being two men and a woman, Banshee ended up bunking up with Chico, because no man in his right mind would have ever wanted to contradict Vopros when he said: "That room mine." and closed himself in the eastern room.

The furniture was essential, and most of it came from the generous donations of the good citizens of Boston, and their consumerism, that let them leave so much good stuff in the trash. The couch, the coffee table, all of the six unmatching chairs, Banshee's bed structure and most of the shelves around the house were "recycled" and given new life with a robust wash and a new coat of paint. But that let them save enough to buy a decent TV set with a blue-ray player where they could, at least, relax when they could.

So, not like that night.

«Ay! We're out of tequila, again!» chimed Chico closing the kitchen closet. Banshee had just taken out a bottle of whisky that still had more than a half inside.

«Will this do?» she asked. Chico let out a disappointed sound, then shrugged and took two glasses. Banshee raised an eyebrow, before wolfing down a good sip of whisky directly from the bottle, after filling one glass for him. Chico sighed and gurgled down the copper liquid in a strong gulp.

«The aftertaste is vaguely terrible.» he pointed out.

«We don't need a fancy evening, we just need brain juice to come up with a good plan.»

«How can we come up with a plan if we don't know anything about the place, or the lady, or in your specific case about the loot?» Chico reminded her. Banshee rolled her eyes.

«Listen, we just need to infiltrate the house for a party, this hardly calls for movie-quality planning. We're fucking Mages, fer God's sake!»

«Ay, and did you miss the part where the house is full of D'Yves and if we use magic we confirm that the Order might be involved and we're burnt as fuck?»

«Didn't the Chief said that the lady was kinda fallen out with her family?»

«Yes, but I can be kind of sure that the family isn't fallen out with her. Especially if her Head of the House has put an invaluable artifact in her care.» Chico replied, taking another shot at the whisky, that became more and more drinkable with the time. «Why hadn't he tried to open that, I wonder.»

«Isn't it, like, incredibly dangerous and stuff?» Banshee shrugged, emptying the bottle right in her throat and looking inside it with a desolated look.

«He'd have to ask a Vice, but it's not that difficult, not for someone in Justin's position.»

«So, ye think it's bad intel? We're snuffing up just a kid's toy?» Banshee frowned, raising to her feet and starting to rummage around the kitchen's cabinets.

«Hadn't this come from the Council, I would have think that someone could be trying to prank us hard.» Chico nodded «There are some patatas under the sink.» he then revealed.

«For the last time, ye make vodka and brandy with potatoes, ye make whisky with malt and barley!» she scoffed, picking up some cornflakes, baking malt, sugar, and a large bottle of chemical alcohol. «And, come on, we're so unimportant that for someone to go all this way to prank us would be really not worthy.»