Grim was one step away from going postal in this crowded jewelry store.
He should have known better, this close to Christmas, but the holiday snuck up on him quickly. He had been planning this since he came back. He’d been socking away the money from his jobs, using the money only to buy the ink and paraphernalia for the tattoos and scars he wore under his clothes. Plus, he always was able to get more money by fencing items he found on enemies.
Now it was the last weekend before Christmas, and he had to buy something now.
The line was all through the store, and he found his way to the men’s rings. In the corner were tucked pairs of men’s rings, just three simple styles. Grim wanted it simple, because it would be easier to engrave when he got them home.
The reason why he was ready to go postal was because three people had jumped ahead of him. One nervous teenager and two couples. Then the man behind the counter left, and didn’t come back.
That was it, and with three syllables, Grim summoned a fiery ifrit in the middle of the store. Of course, no one moved until the ifrit set a man’s wool coat on fire. The place cleared out, women and some men screaming, one woman with her hat on fire. One man remained behind the counter, his hands in his pockets and staring up at the ifrit as everyone ran out of three doors. Grim calmly walked up to the man.
“See the silver rings over there in that case? I want them.”
“You did this,” he said, looking at Grim.
“It got your attention, didn’t it?”
“All you had to do was ask.”
“I tried that.”
The man pulled his hands out of his pockets, smoke trailing from them. “You shouldn’t use your powers like that.”
“Shoo,” Grim said, and the ifrit vanished into the floor.
Three heroes in tights ran into the jewelry shop, one wearing a huge cowl, another carrying a flamethrower, and a third woman who just looked like she ate something bad for breakfast. “Where’s the fire?” she yelled.
“Under control,” said the man behind the counter, looking pointedly at Grim.
Grim only smiled. The three heroes looked at each other. “Are you open for business, then?” said the man in the cowl.
“We’ll be open as soon as the manager gets back.”
Said Grim, “He’s probably shitting his pants out in the alley. Why don’t you three go check?”
All three of them gave Grim a glare that would have withered a lesser man.
Grim waved his hand. “Go on, do heroic things. Nothing more to see here.”
They looked at the man behind the counter who said, “I’ve got this.”
As the three heroes went back outside, the man behind the counter moved to the other case. “Silver?”
“Well, maybe gold. Gold looks better on him.”
The man pulled open the slide and took out the pair of simple gold bands. “These?”
“Yes.”
“Three hundred a piece.”
“That’s fine.”
“Wait until my manager gets back. I can’t open the cash drawer until he does.”
“You knew that was magic?” Grim motioned to the middle of the room where the ifrit had been. “And you were going to fight fire with fire?”
People started trickling in. “None of your business,” said the man, and approached the manager. The first thing the manager did was check over his stock. Meticulously. The manager kept looking out of the corner of his eye at the man behind the counter and also at Grim. When he got to near Grim, Grim leaned over and said, in Enochian, “No one stole anything.”
Even with Enochian, a language that went to people’s very souls, it didn’t stop the manager from firing the man behind the counter and ordering him to submit to a search.
“And you too,” said the manager to Grim, as the man with the cowl came back in.
The man with the cowl said, “Mr. Abrams, nobody stole anything.”
“How do you know?”
The man with the cowl pointed to his head. “Telepath. If they stole something, they would be figuring out how to get rid of it.”
Abrams turned back to the man behind the counter. “You’re–”
“Don’t even do me the favor,” snapped the man, as he stormed out the door. The manager looked at Grim, who flipped him off with an added, “Fuck you” as he strode out the door following the man.
“Hey,” he called after the man. “HEY!” Grim caught a burst of wind and hurried up to the man.
“What do you want?” he growled.
“I’m sorry I got you fired.”
The man said nothing.
“I’ll find you another job.”
“I don’t need your help, wizard,” said the man. “Just leave me alone.” He turned to go.
“Do you need money? A place to stay?”
The man waved off Grim. Grim frowned, watching the man go. Part of him wanted to save him, but part of him, the realistic part of him, wanted to leave.
He followed the man’s wishes.