Page 18 of Magical Midlife Rescue (Leveling Up #11)

TEN

Jessie

The slim woman was a little over five feet and of Asian descent, with short, green-yellow hair sticking up in spikes all over her head.

She had slight crow’s-feet around her eyes and smooth cheeks—I guessed she was probably mid-thirties, but I couldn’t be sure because the rest of her face was covered in a fake gray beard and a long, equally fake mustache that covered her mouth.

A fox fur draped around her neck, the old-fashioned kind with the head and paws still attached.

Unlike the moth-eaten things I’d seen at the back of vintage shops, though, this fox’s mouth was open in a grotesque snarl beneath the red marbles of its eyes, while its feet bore red-painted nails and strange bangles like tiny bracelets.

Under that, she wore a black shirt with long sleeves and black slacks splattered with fuchsia paint stains.

I glanced at Niamh and raised an eyebrow. Did you put her up to this?

Niamh clearly understood because she shook her head. She seemed just as bewildered as I was, and usually she didn’t react to anything.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the woman said, stopping just inside the room. She pointed at the fur. “It was roadkill.”

I wasn’t sure that was any better. It was about the same level of horrific and maybe a lot grosser.

“Hi. Fred, is it?” I asked, stepping forward with my hand out.

“Yeah. Hey.” She put up her fist, and I changed from a handshake to knuckles. Then she pointed at the fireplace. “Wow. What a mind-bending coincidence.”

I followed her gaze to Ivy House’s wooden mantel over the fireplace, which currently showed a fox running through a meadow. What a coincidence, indeed. Ivy House loved to mess with the minds of the non-magical. This interview was probably over before it had even begun.

“This is my fiancé, Austin,” I said, and turned so that he could step forward to fist-bump her.

“Hey, man. Nice muscles,” said Fred. “I thought about working out once. Thought against it, that is. Too much energy, know what I mean?” Her cheeks lifted, and I supposed there was a smile hiding somewhere under that fake facial hair.

I swung my hand to indicate the third member of our group. “And this is Niamh. She’s the one who initiated this meeting.”

“How’re ya?” Niamh asked, not bothering to get up.

“Oh, N eee ve.” Fred laughed. “Irish. Gotcha. I read the name on the messages and couldn’t make sense of it. Hi! Yes, we’ve been in contact.”

“And Tristan.”

He had already slipped the pen into the diary to save his spot and now stood with it mostly closed in one of his hands. His eyes were currently dimmed with fatigue, but his long wings fluttered—clearly an attention tactic.

“Another cape wearer, huh?” Fred nodded. “I’ve seen a ton of them in this town. Are you anti-superhero as well?”

“Only when someone needs saving,” he replied, and his eyes glowed a little brighter. He might turn out to be as bad as Ivy House. “I’d rather do it myself.”

“Cool contacts. I need to get me a pair of those. I have some green ones, and some blue ones, but I didn’t know they made some that glow!”

“And you met Mr. Tom.” I pointed back toward the door.

“Yup.” Her head bobbed in acknowledgment.

“Please, have a seat,” I offered, and gestured toward the couch opposite Austin and me.

“Can I get you a refreshment?” Mr. Tom asked.

“Yeah, that would be great,” Fred replied. “Maybe a pop, if you have one? And a little cheese wouldn’t hurt. Everyone has cheese, right? It’s one of the four major food groups.”

“Of course I have it.” He turned on his heel and strode through the door.

“What’s the wig fer?” Niamh asked. “Or is that part of the ensemble?”

“Oh, this?” Fred peeled the fake beard and mustache off her face. “It’s to prevent facial recognition by the eyes in the sky.” She pointed upward. “Cameras.”

“We don’t have cameras posted in this town or in the five surrounding towns,” Austin said. “Your indiscretions in the Dick world do not count against you here.”

“Right?” Fred said. “The Man!” She gave a thumbs-down and then did a raspberry.

“We have a different set of rules in this town than in…most other places in the country,” I said carefully.

“Like the Mafia?” she asked. “No one here dresses like Mafia…”

“Like that but…not as dangerous.” I wiggled my hand. “Mostly. Anyway, we’ll get to that in a bit. I’m curious about something. Why, when you make millions every year, uh… working for yourself,” I said politically, “would you decide to take a job making a fraction of that amount?”

“Well…” She raised a fuzzy eyebrow. “What was your name?”

I flattened a hand to my chest. “Sorry, I’m Jessie. I’m the owner of this house and, along with Austin, Niamh’s boss. I’m the one who would actually be paying you.”

“Hi, Jessie.” She flashed a smile, showing slightly crooked white teeth.

“Here’s the deal. I’m sliding down that slippery slope toward middle age, and I’m tired of all this.

I’m tired of hiding. I have to wear scratchy face stuff all the time, dress normally, hunch over when I’m out and about, watch myself in places that have security cameras, keep eyes in the back of my head—I mean, staying out of jail is a lot of work.

You have no idea. I tried to do nothing for a while because—not to sound boastful—I don’t have to work anymore.

I live frugally, and I’ve made enough money to live off the interest of my investments.

But that’s bored me to tears, and I found myself thinking, you know, maybe I could semi-retire.

Work for someone else, yeah? I just do what I’m told, have a chat by the water cooler, and keep busy with low stakes. ”

“Why the high price tag, then?”

Her smile widened. “Someone willing to pay that much has a great need of my services and respects my talent. Given my past, that person’s need would outweigh the desire to do the right thing and turn me in.”

Made sense.

“And you found Niamh?” I asked.

“She found me, really. I posted on a board that is not totally reputable, we’ll say, and she contacted me.

She described this place, and how I’d have to follow the rules here or it’s dangerous, but that my past wouldn’t be a problem.

Sounded good. Figured I would check it out.

The towns around here are cute, though the people are pretty…

serious. The ones without capes, anyway.

A lot of muscle. Are you guys a bunch of health nuts or something?

” She turned her face a little to side-eye me.

“This isn’t a cult, is it? I don’t want to get mixed up in a cult. ”

“No, it’s not a cult”—which was just what a cult leader would say, I mused—“but it’s not something you’re probably used to.

We do have a great need, and we can pay.

Now, honestly, I am a little concerned about your history of theft.

There are a lot of valuable items in this house, and it wouldn’t go well for you if you tried to take them. ”

“Ah, gotcha.” She nodded knowingly. “Definitely like the Mafia, then. No sweat. I only stole from those other places because they were ripping people off. Screw those guys. I figured they’d get to see how it felt.

Then it became a game, then a challenge as they got better.

But now…yeah. Like I said, I’m worn out, and I’d rather not bother with any of that.

Clean slate without going to jail, like Niamh said. ”

It turned out I had a lot more questions than I’d originally thought. “But you’re still okay with a challenge?”

Her face lit up as Mr. Tom came in with drinks.

“I love a challenge! I love puzzles, and Niamh said you’d have no end of them for me.

That I’d be taking on worse than those companies, and people around here didn’t go to the cops for stuff.

” She put her finger to the side of her nose.

“Fits me right down to the ground. I love cracking open impenetrable firewalls and peering inside.”

I looked at Austin. She sounded fine to me. It probably wouldn’t be hard to keep her in line, and Niamh surely thought she could keep the woman busy and entertained. The magical aspect of all this, though…

“Is that normal attire, then?” Niamh asked without expression.

“This?” Fred petted the head of the fox. “Are you kidding? No! This is fun attire. I wouldn’t go out like this normally, but— well, you already have my info, and half the town walks around in capes. I figured I had some artistic license.”

“And Fred is not your real name,” I surmised. “You could be anybody.”

“No, my real name is Wilma. Wilma Rebecca Foster. I don’t mind my last name, or even my middle name so much, even though it’s boring.

But Wilma ? I’m not a Wilma. I could be a Fred, though,” she said.

“The name Fred has personality. I figure my birth name is for my mom. She likes it, she has terrible taste in names, but she gave me life, so she can call me Wilma. It’s not like she could ask for my opinion at the time.

But now that I’m older, I should be able to pick my own name, right? So I did.”

I didn’t know how Rebecca was somehow boring but Fred wasn’t. Biting back a Flintstones joke, I decided she wasn’t any weirder than anyone else in this house, so I left it alone.

As Mr. Tom brought in a cheese plate, I said, “His real name is Earl, but he chose Mr. Tom himself. So you’d be among company.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a Tom,” Mr. Tom explained.

“ Right? ” Fred slapped her knee with a huge smile.

“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about.” She bobbed her head again, and then basically her whole upper body while looking around, tickled.

Her gaze stopped on the mantel carving, and then her brow furrowed.

“I might’ve had too much coffee before I came here, but I could have sworn the fox was on the other side of that fireplace when I walked in.

” She blinked quickly and shook her head.

“Anyway,” she said, reaching for the cheese, “any other questions? Want me to prove my talent?”

I looked at Niamh. “What about the other thing?” I asked her.

“What other thing?” she replied, clearly playing dumb.

I widened my eyes at her, and then pointedly looked at the mantel. “The other thing. The”—I whispered—“magical thing.”

Austin pushed to standing, taking his beer with him.

“Niamh, give Fred the details about this town and us. Mr. Tom, could you bring Jess and me up a plate of food? We’re going to our room.

Long day.” To Fred, he said, “It was nice meeting you. We’ll be in contact tomorrow or the next day with an answer for you, assuming you want the job after Niamh fills you in. ”

“Yeah, sure.” She stood and put out her fist. Austin touched his to hers, and I followed suit after I rose. “Thanks for the opportunity. Sounds great so far, so long as it’s not a cult. What about you? Do you use your birth name?”

Austin stopped, a smile playing on his lips.

“I was born Austin Baraza, but I’m now Austin Steele, even though the name isn’t exactly legal.

Jess came to this town as Jacinta Evans.

She’s now Jacinta Ironheart. Tristan won’t tell us his real name, and for all we know, the gardener outside doesn’t even remember his last name.

If you’re looking for eccentricity, you’ve found it. ”

Fred laughed and put up her arms like she’d just won a race. “This is great ! I’ve always been called weird, but here, I might fit in.”

Boy, would she. Nessa and Sebastian would be tickled.

Thinking about them, I said, “And if you can find our friends, I’ll give you a sizable bonus. Niamh will explain the details.”

A crease formed between Fred’s eyebrows. Before she could ask questions, I turned to leave, only to find Ulric and Jasper ducking their heads in.

“Hey,” Ulric said before spying Fred. “Oh, you’re busy?—”

“Oh, wow, look at that!” Fred pointed at Ulric’s hair. “Look at this!” She pointed at her own. “What’s your real name?”

“Ulric,” he said in confusion.

“What’s your chosen name?” she pushed.

“…Ulric?”

“Oh, yeah?” She nodded with her upper body again. “I dig it. An original. And more capes! You guys really love those capes, bruh!”

“Good timing, actually.” I gestured them in. “Fred is here for a computer tech job or whatever we’re calling it, and Niamh needs to explain this town. She’s from the Jane world,” I murmured.

Jasper pushed Ulric forward so he could get a look. “I heard Niamh mention something about that.”

“Yeah, sure, we can help.” Ulric walked farther into the room. “Cheese, nice. I’m starving.”

Mr. Tom sniffed. “Yes, we are all well aware, given that you are always starving.”

I slipped out with Austin following. It was time to relax.

“Well?” I asked him once we were safely hidden in our room.

He lay down on the bed and held out his hand for me to join him. I crawled across the mattress and curled into his arms.

“She’s genuine. She even seems honest, which is surprising, given how she ended up here.

If she can come around to the magical side of things, I don’t think we’ll have any problems with her.

I really don’t. And given her, uh…fashion sense and overall love of eccentricity, she might be easier to convince about magic than most.”

I hoped so. Sebastian and Nessa were out there somewhere, and if the weird hacker could find them—and didn’t run screaming—then I’d pay whatever she asked.