My eyebrow rose, and I blew out the match. “Codes? What are you talking about?”
“Codes that lead to a huge fortune—waiting to be taken. That figurine is special. Right after the Millstadt woman killed her husband with it, two warlock brothers bought it from the original estate.”
Given my wry expression, I was sure he could tell I wasn’t convinced. The second head had fallen asleep, again, but the first became animated. “It’s all true. Over the past century, Vladimir and Nikolai have fought over their family fortune. They hid pieces of it from each other. Not too long ago, their feud got heated and one brother killed the other. It was gruesome, actually—”
“—get to the point.” Although he did have my attention—slightly. I was curious since their names sounded Russian.
“Oh, yes, the surviving brother thought his sibling’s hidden stash was lost and gone forever—until he discovered that his brother, who was a metalsmith and sculptor, left behind codes on vases, figurines, and jewelry boxes. Pretty much on everything he collected. These codes have to be a message about where the money is hidden. Skeptics say it’s just a leprechaun scam. But I’ve got a few codes, so I know there are more. I’m going to get them
all
.”
After listening to the
zmee’s
story, I felt kind of sorry for him. What did this guy have to do to finance his code-hunting operation? An operation which most likely was a fruitless one.
“Why don’t you march—umm—slide back into your little house, get my property, scribble down your little codes, and then give it back.” See? I could be nice when I tried.
“Now?”
My chest tightened as my anxiety rose. “No. Yesterday evening.”
The first head’s voice turned into a whine. “I can’t do it that fast. The codes are microscopic and hidden under glamours. They’d require hours with my equipment.”
“Well, I paid for it, and I’m not waiting here a few hours for you to do a full body cavity search on my prize.”
“I’m more than willing to barter for time with the Millstadt figurine.”
As if he had anything that would interest me in this dump.
“Miss Stravinsky.” I raised my eyebrow at the
zmee
, and he cocked one of his heads. “I’ve seen your username on the supernatural auction websites. I know what you like. I’m sure you’d like something in my collection.”
My mouth moved before my common sense kicked in. “Whatcha got?”
For the next couple of minutes, the
zmee
did an awkward backward movement to get into its house. The urge to offer a push felt like the most polite thing I could do, but who in their right mind got up close and personal with a three-headed dragon to shove it into its house?
Eventually, the dragon got inside his home, and I heard him rummaging around for several minutes. Above me, the nymph continued to sit in the same spot, her hate projected at me like poison-tipped arrows. Still not over me threatening to burn down her tree, eh? Let her stew for now, she’d get an apology before I left. It was the least I could do.
Eventually, the dragon reemerged and stretched out in front of me again. Slowly, it opened the palm of one of its many hands. Two items lay in the middle. The first item, a papier-mâché boy, looked pretty good. Not a holiday trinket by any means, but the craftsmanship was top notch. The piece didn’t have any scratches and the painted face was done with a steady hand. Very nice.
But the one on the left, another wooden figure, made me almost squeal with delight. A beautiful nutcracker, in pristine condition, wore a set of hand-sewn clothes. My antiquarian eye told me he had to be over a hundred years old. Tufts of white hair on his head matched his beard. With his massive chompers, the figurine grinned mischievously at me, and I couldn’t help but return the gesture.
He was so perfect. I reached out to touch it.
But the
zmee
pulled its hand back. “There’s something else I need—if you want something as valuable as this nutcracker.”
“Keep talking.” He could ask for my salary this month, and I’d probably give it up. Goodness gracious, that nutcracker was gorgeous. A perfect addition to my collection. The papier-mâché boy was just a bonus.
“I’d like another set of codes. They’re engraved on the outside of an antique compass, circa 1713. The owner won’t let me near them, and I can’t sneak in to take a high resolution photo.”
This started to smell fishy. What kept him from buying the compass?
“Where is this
owner
?”
“About two hours west of here. In a lumber mill. It’s not hard to find at all since it’s in a display case in the main building.” He shrugged as if anybody could march up to a workplace unseen and snap a bunch of pictures.
“So no stealing? Just photos.”
“Yes, but with my special camera, of course.”
For a second, I almost said no. But I couldn’t help obsessing about the giddy feeling I got when I almost touched the nutcracker’s coat. How soft it appeared. How clean. I had to have it. With a voice that trembled at first, I replied, “As long as you keep your part of the bargain, I’ll be back.”
Shawntelle Madison
is a Web developer who loves to weave words as well as code. She’d be reluctant to admit it, but if pressed, she’d say that she covets and collects source code. After losing her first summer job detassling corn, Madison performed various jobs, from fast-food clerk to grunt programmer to university webmaster. Writing eccentric characters is her favorite job of all. On any given day when she’s not surgically attached to her computer, she can be found watching cheesy horror movies or the latest action-packed anime. Shawntelle Madison lives in Missouri with her husband and children.
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