“Welcome to the Phoenix’s Nest,” chirps a holographic assistant at the talismonger shop in Cheyenne. “How may I help you?”
Helix looks up from the deck in her hand and gives the hologram a wink as it fades away.
The shelves are lined neatly with “fair trade” reagents from around the world, including telesma and fetishes organized and alphabetized by tribe—though the Sioux have a conspicuously larger end cap. Finally noticing the hologram’s silence, a heavy-set man with a neatly trimmed beard looks up from his commlink and straightens his short coat. “Um, can I help you find something?”
Helix makes eyes at him from behind her iridescent blue lashes. “Sure thing, sugar. My client is looking for a few hard-to-find reagents for his work. Some say you have frankincense for sale.”
The proprietor looks at her. “This way then. The area over here is for our more potent reagents. We also offer distillation services if these products don’t meet your client’s requirements.” He leads her to a back room where a rainbow of colored-glass bottles are stored alongside lined boxes holding various stones carved to convey a semblance of power. “And here is the frankincense.”
As Helix chews her gum and looks around the room, her brother Knotingham strolls into the store, wearing the clichéd outfit of a black duster and cowboy hat. She spoofs the alarm at the door to prevent it from going off as her brother enters.
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” says the flustered proprietor, as he isn’t used to having to talk to people. “We’re having some technical difficulties.”
Helix brings out a little perfume bottle and smiles as she sprays some on her exposed neck. In a fluid motion, she sprays the back wall of stones and frankincense. The proprietor gasps; fingerprints appear to glow a burnt orange along the shelves and corner. It appears the shelf can move based on the position of the fingerprints.
“Tsk, tsk, sugar,” she says. “Looks like someone has been naughty. And a false door? Shall we take a look at what’s behind it?”
As Helix pushes on the shelf where the fingerprints are, the proprietor tries to use his commlink. “I don’t know who you are,” he says, “but I’m calling the cops.” He discovers his commlink OS is locked and turns to leave the building, but finds Helix’s brother blocking his way. Before he can react, a stun baton touches his chest.
Knotingham catches the unconscious proprietor and places him behind the counter. “Target One is out.”
“System is under my control,” says Helix. “Store is now closed and the room is located.”
“Good,” says a voice over their earpieces. “Brogan is coming to you.”
The door handle jiggles as Helix unlocks it. Just beyond is a wicker man made of wood bundles and plastic trash. Brogan walks past Knotingham into the room. The room contains racks of foci in various states of completion, a table with a pouch of what looks like gold dust, some liquid-filled vials, and four partially wrapped jade disks that looked as if they had just arrived. A hermetic circle is painted on the ground.
Brogan stops at the circle. “Helix, would you mind pouring out one of those vials onto the circle? Be careful not to get any on you.”
Helix does as he asked, and the paint and even the concrete starts to smoke and burn. Brogan then crosses the circle, picks up the bag of gold and the jade disks, and stuffs them into the wicker man’s chest before leaving the store.
“Knotingham,” Helix says, “leave the gift and escort Brogan to his next stop.”
Knotingham leaves a glass egg on the counter before and Helix leave the store. “Where to next, Boss?” he asks.
“I have business in Butte Below,” Brogan replies.
Minutes later, the proprietor wakes up disoriented from the shock. He sees the glass egg on the counter. A second later his attention is focused on the shadowy figure on the other side of the counter. Then the egg explodes in magical flames.