Christopher Byford - Den of Smoke - Absolutely gripping fantasy page turner filled with magic and betrayal

After a brief couple of stops to check with shop owners as to the state of goods they were harbouring, or whether long-standing trouble had returned, Jack and the others stopped at their destination.

Cole had never been inside a store like this before. He had always kept clear of them because, previously, he hadn’t wanted to tarnish his reputation – and the kind of individuals they attracted were of the rougher sort. Of course, that was before the pursuit of reclaiming his lost money. Now, Cole realized he was one of those whom he used to cross the street to avoid.

He raised his eyes to the overhanging sign on the wall. On it, painted in a port red, were two crossed revolvers with the name of the premises:

THE DEADBOLT GUNWORKS

The door swung inward, the tinkle of a bell rattling above to indicate their arrival. The shop was deceptively small, with four large glass cases and plenty of stock hidden in the basement. Windows were reinforced with iron lattices to deter potential thieves. The lowering sun flooded the interior with orange, though not enough to light a lamp. Glass display cases bared their wares: a range of firearms, rifles, knives and other such instruments of injury. All had been keenly buffed, with price cards set alongside them.

Past these were various workbenches, along with racks of well-sorted tools. Among them, the owner pressed down on a lever intermittently. Beside her, skeletons of metal were processed, filled with black powder and bullets. At her side a burly man organized piles of materials, his face thick with a pitch bush of an untamed beard. His eyes were blank, only seemingly springing to life at the sound of the bell, which coaxed the pair to turn their attention to the patrons.

* * *

Wyld pulled the protective goggles from her eyes and wiped her hands upon a thick leather apron. She strode over and welcomed Jack with a charming smile. Her work gloves were removed and tossed onto a worktop so as not to tarnish the main cabinets’ impeccable polish. Umbra remained at his station, busying himself.

‘This is nice to see.’ She beamed. ‘Good afternoon, folks. You have impeccable timing. I was just about to close doors.’

‘Is that an indication that you don’t want our business? I’m hurt.’ Jack scanned over the stock to see if there was anything of interest. There usually was. Her connections to individuals like him ensured that there was a flow of good quality imperial weaponry. Quality, however, came at considerable expense and sometimes that bill wasn’t monetary.

‘Perish the thought, Jack. Honest crooks like yourself are keeping the lights on and the pair of us fed. I’m happy to see you still breathing.’

‘Not for the want of others trying, I assure you.’

Wyld turned her head to the tallest one among them.

‘Mister Blakestone, it’s nice to see you once more. You’re keeping those good looks in check I’m hoping.’ She grinned.

Blake tipped the lip of his hat, showing the slightest sign of a blush, but luckily his beard hid most of it. ‘Ma’am.’

Wyld turned to the next in line. ‘Alvina, always a pleasure, dear.’

The smile was warmly reciprocated.

Wyld curled one side of her mouth in thought whilst looking at Cole. With a wagging finger she finally confessed, ‘You … I don’t know you.’

Immediately Cole reached over the counter and shook her hand a tad too vigorously for her taste. His grin was nauseatingly wide.

‘Cole Roaner, ma’am. Associate of Jack, er … Jackdaw.’

‘So you are. Wow.’ She watched her hand bounce around in his grip. ‘And a fine hand you have there too. Nice eye.’

* * *

Cole withdrew his hand in embarrassment. ‘Is this your establishment?’

Wyld slanted her hips, tugging at her apron strings. The apron was removed, folded and put aside.

‘It’s my name above the door ain’t it? It’s my pride and joy. You’re new, so I’ll let you in on a slim little secret,’ she intimately whispered, ‘if you’re looking for iron, I have the best in town. Honest.’

‘That so?’ Cole chuckled nervously.

‘That is so. I have a dealer in the empire so everything you see here is as quality as you can get. I sell none of those copy-cat pieces.’ Wyld raised her voice and bounced back straight to address the others. ‘Anyhow! I suppose you’re all here for your orders. Just one moment please. Umbra dear, can you get the boxes over there and to the left please? The ones with the red stamps on it.’

The man complied, taking possession of the packages, all whilst eyeballing Cole the whole way from one end of the shop to the other. When he reached the cabinets, he placed the boxes down, gently, their weight seemingly nothing. By now Cole was dreadfully aware of his presence. His height advantage was disconcerting, causing Cole to glance this way and that so as not to provoke him. Finally Umbra spoke, low and with conviction.

‘Someone is getting awfully familiar. Do you mind stating your intentions, lad?’

Immediately Cole recoiled, attempting to stammer his way through a combination of surprise and apology. Not that he knew what the apology was for, just that he was keen to avoid the seemingly inevitable third beating on the job. Jackdaw intervened before the youngster fretted himself to a sweat.

‘Leave him alone, Umbra, he’s still fresh to all this.’ Jack pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘He barely carries a scar if you need evidence of that.’

‘All I’m saying is that you come into the shop, make kissy faces at the lady here …’ he grumbled, sizing the young blood up.

‘If you could find it in yourself to stop terrorizing my man that would be quite appreciated. He’s a customer, just as much as I. We don’t need someone of your sort giving us hassle when we’re just trying to do business.’

‘You assume your dirty money is any good here.’

‘It’s a mite more soiled than your average, but it’s as good as anyone else’s.’

Finally Umbra carved a smile over his tired features and shook Jackdaw by the hand, firmly. It was warmly reciprocated. The exchange of moxie between them was amusing.

‘Still causing trouble out there, Jack?’

‘Not enough to turn my back on it that’s for sure. Have you considered my offer any further?’ He withdrew his hand, shaking the tingle from his fingers.

‘I told you –’ Umbra waved at the air between them ‘– I’m done with all that.’

‘Nobody ever parts with their nature, Umbra, not even you. It’s a good offer – you’ll make plenty. With you on board, we’ll be nigh on untouchable. Most don’t know your reputation around here but I sure do. I have better ears than most .’

‘Maybe.’ Umbra seemed wary about exactly how much Jackdaw was privy to. ‘But the answer still stands.’

‘It’s got to be boring behind a counter after what you two got involved in up north.’

‘I prefer boring. I’m sure the games you all play are entertaining time sinks, but I’m not a criminal. I’m not looking to go toe to toe with anyone … and I prefer not to glamorize murder.’

‘Yet you’ve partaken in it,’ Jack stated. Cole looked between them hurriedly. Despite the pair’s obvious relationship it was clear that this topic was skirting the lines of what constituted as respectable conversation.

‘We do what’s required of us. War is war. Death is just one facet of its tapestry.’

‘And mercenary work?’

* * *

Umbra stopped and surveyed the man before him. If it was anybody else he would have provided sterner words or, if they were very unlucky, a series of threats. There was no malice of course – that wouldn’t have got Jack anywhere. It was a serious question and one to make him reassess his viewpoint. Someone like him stuck as a shopkeeper was a tragedy. Still, promises being what they were, he was obligated to put down his weapons and take up a more peaceful life. Umbra owed her that much at least.