Page 5 of Guarded by the Gargoyle (Hidden Hollow #3)

3

WILLOW

T he day dragged on but at least my ex didn’t come back. Neither did the tourists, though. I only had two or three people duck their heads in and nobody bought anything.

At the end of the day, I found myself looking through the books and feeling extremely worried. There was no way I was going to be able to make rent on the shop at the end of this month if things didn’t pick up considerably. How had my Grandfather managed all those years?

Pop-pop had never had trouble paying the rent or any of the bills for that matter. For some reason, he was always solvent, even when business was bad.

I wished I knew his secret! If things kept on like this, I didn’t see how I would keep Madam Callahan’s Magic Supply open even one more month. But closing it would kill me—it had been Pop-pop’s pride and joy and it was all I had to remember him by. Well, besides Miss Sassy, who was currently snoozing on one end of the counter, completely unworried about our financial situation.

Just as I was closing up for the evening, two strange men walked through the door. They weren’t police and they weren’t tourists—they might be locals but both of them were dressed in nice suits, like they were going to church.

“Er, can I help you, gentlemen?” I asked, lifting my eyebrows at them.

“Yes, ma’am, you can,” the first one said in a soft, Cajun accent. “Our boss wants to meet with you.”

“Who’s your boss?” I asked, frowning. “And what does he want to meet me about?”

“You ever heard of Big Nicky?” the second man asked, raising his eyebrows. “Nicky Valentino?”

I felt a shiver go down my back. I certainly had heard of Nicky Valentino—I’d listened to Carlo talk about him more times than I could count when we were still married.

I don’t think most people realize that Organized Crime is still a real problem in the US—especially in port cities like New Orleans. The Mob takes a bite out of everything that comes through Port NOLA and Big Nicky Valentino was all the way at the top of the food chain, taking the biggest bite of all.

He was protected too—the police couldn’t touch him because he had several senators, bought and paid for, in his pocket. Which was one reason my ex was always bitching about him and how the police couldn’t stop his illegal activities.

“Er…no,” I said, since it didn’t seem wise to admit that I knew their boss was the head of the local Mob. “Never heard of him. Does he need some magical supplies?”

“Magical supplies?” The second man frowned at me.

“I mean, is he a practitioner?” I nodded at the display of crystals behind me. “We have everything you could want.”

“A practitioner of what?” the second man demanded.

“She wants to know if Big Nicky is into Voodoo,” the first man said and laughed. “No, chère —that’s not why he wants to see you,” he said to me.

“Well then, why?” I demanded, beginning to get nervous. “Is there some kind of problem or…?”

“No problem, sweetie,” a new voice said. I looked up and saw an older man—almost the age Pop-pop had been, standing in the doorway. Somehow he had kept the bell from jingling and alerting me to his presence.

The new man was wearing an extremely expensive looking dove gray silk suit that was probably hand-tailored. He had salt and pepper hair and lots of wrinkles around his sharp brown eyes. A neatly trimmed goatee made him look both charming and slightly devilish. So this was Big Nicky Valentino.

“Er…hello?” I nodded at him uncertainly. “Can I help you?”

“You can,” he said nodding as he walked into the shop. “You can help me talk to my dear departed mother.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I don’t do Tarot readings or Channeling or anything like that,” I said quickly. “That was my Grandfather’s business, but I’ve never had The Gift?—”

“Yes, I knew your Grandfather well,” Big Nicky interrupted me smoothly. “He helped me speak to my mother every year on my birthday—which happens to be today,” he added. “And in return, I helped him stay solvent. Ricardo!” he said to one of his guards and snapped his fingers.

The man reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a fat envelope which he handed to me.

“Go on, count it,” Big Nicky said, nodding at me. “I think you’ll find it’s quite enough to cover your expenses for some time.”

With trembling fingers, I peeled open the envelope and stared, wide-eyed, at what I saw. Did you know they print a thousand-dollar bill? I didn’t until I saw what was inside.

“There must be fifty thousand dollars in here!” I exclaimed.

“Sixty-six thousand, actually. Every year I add a thousand—for my birthday, you know,” Big Nicky said cordially. “I trust that’s enough to awaken your ‘Gift’ so that you can help me communicate with my mother?”

“Oh, well…” I licked my lips which had gone very dry.

It was true that Pop-pop had done Spirit Channeling, talking to people on “the Other Side,” but I had always assumed it was trick—that he was only pretending to speak to the dead.

Now I was being offered the chance to follow in his footsteps…but could I be convincing enough to fool Big Nicky Valentino? If I could, I would make enough to pay the rent on the shop for a long time.

But if I wasn’t convincing and he figured out that I was faking it, I could be in a world of hurt. I really didn’t want to find myself sleeping with the fishes in Port Nola at the end of the night.

Big Nicky seemed to sense my hesitation because he frowned at me.

“Come on now, sweetie,” he said in a tone that was half cajoling/half threatening. “Your Grandfather assured me that after he died, his power of communing with the spirits would pass to you—his Granddaughter. So let’s get on with it!”

It seemed that I didn’t have a choice. The amount of cash the Mob boss was offering me was considerable, but I still wished that Pop-pop hadn’t put me in this position—or at least that he had warned me that Big Nicky would be coming in. I’ve always been a pretty straightforward person—which means I’m not nearly as good at the kind of trickery it takes to be a really good fake Medium. Still, it seemed like I was going to have to try and give him what he wanted.

“Of course, Mr. Valentino,” I said, nodding at the Mob boss. “Would you like to come with me?”

He smiled broadly.

“Now that’s more like it! Yes, I would very much like to come with you. Lead the way!”

So I did. What else could I do?