The Minor Deities of Doomed Men

Part Two:

Bag Lady Goddess

Swaxbee wiped his face off carefully. He swallowed, smiled at the customers and rubbed his nose. "Well," he said, nervously laughing. "Well." The customers, a man and a woman both somewhere in their mid to late thirties were fairly non-descriptive. The man looked and spoke like someone without imagine, skill or ambition. The woman looked boyish and hard. She was clearly the one in charge.

"Well what?" she said.

"Well, the diamond is... the diamond is exquisite." Swaxbee sucked in his lower lip and exhaled. He then puckered his lips and spread out his hands. "A diamond this size is ... unheard of. It is cut to fit a ring...but it is just too big, do you understand? Too big."

The woman was about to speak but Swaxbee raised a hand in protest. He spoke rapidly, running out of breath. "You see, a stone this size, this quality, would be known. This is major news. It would be in the registry. It would be famous. Some noble family would have a curse attached to this rock. It would be named, for goodness sake. It is too good to be true. Don't you see?"

"Why is everybody dumping on us?" the man said. He meant to sound tough but his protest came out whine.

Swaxbee choked back a laugh. "You've been to other jewelers with these items?"

"You're the fourth stop," the woman said.

Swaxbee let the laugh out. "Oh my. And the police haven't picked you up yet? Well, I'm sure you've acquired a tail by now."

"Hey! This stuff isn't hot! We didn't steal it!" The woman jabbed her finger at Swaxbee.

"But these items are unexplainable, don't you realize?" Swaxbee said grinning. "As I said, the diamond is too big. As for the gold. It is absurd. If I take your story at face value that your mother won a gold frying pan then I have to inquire further on the artistic motives of such an object. I would have to wonder why anyone who created a gold frying pan would go through the trouble of making it look like this. The details are baffling. The odd gash on the handle. The careful network of scratches on the pan made to resemble years of use. And of course, the manufacturer's stamp on the bottom proudly identifying this as BestWare Cast Iron; Buffalo, New York. There's nothing to mark the happy occasion in which your proud mother won this monstrosity. And it's solid gold, isn't it? How very odd." Swaxbee beamed at them.

"I'll knock that smirk off your face," the man said, puffing up.

"And if I really wanted these bizarre items," Swaxbee said, ignoring the man and addressing the woman directly. "I couldn't possibly afford them. Not even if I talked you down to ten percent of their value."

"So what should we do?" the woman said. The man behind her said nothing, but deflated and shifted uneasily on his feet.

"Sadly, as it is, the diamond is worthless." Swaxbee shrugged. "You couldn't find anyone skilled who would be willing to cut it. And if you did it would produce too many diamonds that could be explained in any satisfactory manner. Even outside legal channels, the diamond trade is a jealous, close-knit set. As outsiders, without any connections..." Swaxbee trailed off. Swaxbee suddenly smiled. "However, the gold could be melted down, but the gold market is not what it was."

"How much?" the woman said.

"Ah, well." Swaxbee said, backing away with his hands raised. "Provided the police don't pick you up before you leave this block and provided you can keep your wits about you, there might be a buyer for the gold."

"How much?" the woman repeated.

Swaxbee shrugged. "If you're lucky, fifteen grand."

"That's bull!" The man said. "It's worth way more than that and you know it!'

Swaxbee continued to ignore the man. "The pawn shop on Riley has a man who might be able to help you. It would be unwise to draw any more attention to yourself."

"But, Edith! Fifteen Gs is nothing! It's a rip-off!"

Swaxbee shrugged again. "Most likely the police will be in a black coup. The fat one is Ryan Osoda. A minor sadist, most certainly a major bully. His partner is an Hispanic with a German last name, Diego Klaus. He's the lady's man. When they come for you, you'll see Osoda first." He smiled. "Best of luck."

The woman gave the man a soft slap on the stomach. He grunted and lifted the frying pan into a pack which he struggled onto his back. The oversized diamond went into the woman's oversized purse.

Swaxbee shook his head as they left. What a pair. If you lived in Gotham long enough, eventually you saw everything. Swaxbee rubbed his nose and reached for the phone.

***

Edith Ash and Tom Taskil headed slowly towards Riley Street, Taskil looking every which way for the police threat. His back hurt. The damn gold frying pan was heavy as hell.

"Can we rest soon?" Tom said.

"The diamond is heavy too," Edith said. She was deep in thought. Would there be cops? She could change the diamond back to an ashtray and turn the frying pan back to plain cast iron. Then the cops would be left with nothing... except the Wish-Come-True.

Thinking of the police made her think about Bad Grit. She had killed him in self defense, for what little that was worth. Mr Rip and Marty and Dino were out there somewhere trying to find her. She suppressed a shudder. Mr Rip hadn't been the greatest boss in the world, but she didn't realize he was a killer. She had thought of Marty and Dino as a couple of overgrown kids, but they were brutal thugs. What was Mr Rip's real job? A loan shark? A hit man? A drug lord? Edith tried not to think of the terrified man bleeding to death on the same table where she filled the chip bowls and mixed the dip. How many others had died there? Whatever he had done to upset Mr Rip was probably not as bad as seeing Mr Rip kill somebody. Oh yeah, they would be looking for her. Real hard. So much had happened so fast. Using the Wish-Come-True, she and Tom had created a new floor at her apartment building, but now she wished she had made a more dramatic change of address. She needed to think without distractions. It was time to lighten the load.

"One of us should go get the you-know-what," she said pausing. She grimaced. Tom was acting far too edgy. Even if they hadn't been stupid about showing off the diamond and the gold, Tom looked like he was guilty of something serious. "Pull yourself together!" she hissed.

"What? What?" Tom said. "I'm cool. No one as cool as me. Hey, yeah, my back is killing me, but I'm cool."

"You're acting like a long tailed cat in a house of rocking chairs," Edith said. She was trying to calm him down. "Come on. Down here." She said and lead him into an alley.

"Is this a good idea?" Tom asked. "What exactly is a 'coup' anyway? What did that pansy mean, huh? Is a coup the car that looks like a Buick? You know, the old gas guzzlers? I mean, it would be thirty years old, right? They don't drive cars that old, do they?"

"Will you shut up?" Edith said. She stopped by a dumpster. "Okay. You were right, and I was wrong. We should have brought the Stone with us. It's still in my sock drawer. One of us should go to the pawn shop and the other one should go back for the thing."

"I don't want to be lugging this thing all over town," Tom whined.

"Then get rid of it. Throw it away." Edith said.

"Are you crazy? It's worth a fortune!"

"We can make more, Tom. The Wish-Come-True. We need to get it." Edith lifted the lid to the dumpster. She fumbled with the diamond and tossed it into the trash where it landed with a heavy thud.

"Oh my God! Are you nuts!?!" Tom said, his voice cracking.

"We can always come back for it, Tom." Edith grabbed his arm and held him tightly. "Listen to me, Tom. Listen. Toss the frying pan. We can always come and get it later. We can make more. We can come up with a better wish.

"I'm going to talk to the guy at the pawn shop. I think that's our best bet. I need you to get the Stone. It's in my sock drawer, okay? Mr Rip will be watching the building. Okay? He doesn't know you, Tom. You're going to get the Stone and bring it to the pawn shop, okay?"

"Jesus, Edith," Tom said. "You're hurting my arm."

Edith let him go. "Get rid of the frying pan, Tom."

Tom looked up and down the alley. Edith rolled her eyes. Tom slid the backpack off and looked again. Edith clenched her mouth shut to prevent herself from screaming at him. Finally there was another loud bang in the dumpster. Edith allowed herself to breathe again.

"Man, that sucker was heavy," Tom said.

"It's okay, Tom." Edith said, smiling and stroking his arm. "We've made a couple goofs so far, but we're okay. We'll figure this wishing thing out soon, right?"

"It's a little scary, isn't it?" Tom said. He grinned broadly. "It's really intense, but it's sort of spooky too. I should go out this way, right? Try to lose the cops, don't you think?"

"Please Tom," Edith said frowning. "Don't walk in front of a bus looking over your shoulder for cops, okay? You're safe. No one knows you. No one cares about you. No one is after you. Just get the Wish-Come-True."

"Right." Tom said. He smiled sheepishly. "In your sock drawer, not the underwear drawer. Hate to say I-told-you-so, but - " He grinned again and moved toward the opposite street.

Edith watched him go. He looked back once, nervously, and she waved at him to hurry. When he was out of sight, she relaxed. She would get a pack of cigarettes and maybe a cup of coffee. Do a little window shopping. Make sure the coast was clear before finding out what was up with the pawn shop on Riley. Edith wondered why it had taken her so long to realize that Tom was a total failure. Tom was little more than a distraction. A golden frying pan! What a stupid idea! Tom's idea. Tom was full of bad ideas and he infected her with them.

Her hand passed over her pocket where she felt the warmth of the Stone on her thigh. A full length mirror appeared on the wall. She smiled as her jeans and sweatshirt turned into a crisp charcoal grey business suit. The oversized purse became a smart leather handbag. Moving her hands over her head, her smile widened as her straight bleach blond hair turned to long tight reddish curls. There was a moment of pain as her breast size increased, mildly, nothing too crude or showy. She felt the ache of her feet and legs cease as her youth returned and there was another jolt of pain as she finally got the cute little nose she always wanted.

Edith admired the smart young woman in the mirror. Slim, but with a nice little figure that could turn a head or two. A cute face with a knock out smile framed by incredible hair. Perfect. The mirror became bricks again. She would need a new identity. Something with a little more glamor than Edith Ash. She couldn't help smiling as she left the alley a brand new woman.

***

"He's walking light, must of ditched the load in the alley," Lt. Osoda said into his cell phone.

"I've lost the dyke," Klaus replied. "Nice piece of tail came out this side though. One of those yuppie bitches. Wonder if she's a real red head. Wanna search the alley?"

"Nah, it can wait. Let's follow the stumbler. I'll pick you up at the corner."

"Ten four," Klaus said. He scratched at his front teeth trying to get rid of something stuck there. The cute chick was taking her time, a little early for a lunch break. Must work for one of the main jewelers downtown or something, Klaus thought. He picked up his pace as Osoda drove into view.

"Not sure how I lost her," Klaus said as he got in.

"Probably back in the alley with the goods," Osoda responded. "Dead dykes tell no tales."

"Hey, solving a homicide would look great on our sheets," Klaus said. "Wanna double check?"

"After we find our pigeon's nest," Osoda said. "This guy will crack fast and easy. Look at him walk, like his balls are on fire. Ought to be wearing a sign that says 'guilty' in big red letters." Osoda laughed. "This guy is ripe to confess to a couple of murders, you know? We could clear the books on a couple of stiffs. We could be heroes."

"Hey! I'd like that," Klaus said. "I'd like that a lot."

***

A little magic goes a long way. An experienced user works magic with subtly; the best method to reach a goal is often in small steps. Magic remains aloof but is powerfully connected to the common place world. It could be compared to an intricate melody being played in a very large room. Magic as both the music and the musicians with magic users being the respectful, patient and scholarly audience. Edith Ash had been breaking bottles in this music hall. Some audience members found this very funny. Others did not. And still others thought this interruption to be an excellent opportunity to get better seats.

Down in the Pits of Hell, Etrigan cocked his head. There was something terribly familiar to the magical discord being played. The Demon recognized the instrument of Merlin and to his surprise, he found himself offended.

John Constantine let out a sigh and pushed his plate of half eaten food away from him. If there was going to be a major cockup, it was bound to be in the States. There were several forces at work. This one felt wrong. How wrong remained to be seen. He paid his bill and went outside. Urgency was in the air and within the hour, so was Constantine.

Somewhere in time and space, Mister E stirred. His head was pounding. It was hard to think. Why wasn't he at home? The feeling passed; clarity returned. He got to his feet and carefully combed his hair. "Wait," he said to the void. "Just a little longer. Wait."

***

Far from dead, Bad Grit carefully changed the dressing on his hand. Looking at his palm, he thought of the wounds of Christ. He muttered a prayer. The wound was clean but still his hand was swollen and stiff. His chest and collar bone had also been struck, but it was his hand that worried him. It would be too embarrassing to tell Mr Rip that the he had been overpowered by Edith Ash. Of course, she had used witchcraft, but the shame was still his.

Bad Grit would have to take care of this personally. He needed to track the witch down and destroy her, only then he could he return to Mr Rip and explain everything. If Mr Rip failed to understand, he would have to leave Gotham and seek employment elsewhere. As long as his hand healed properly. It would be tough finding work in his field with a disability.

It was entirely possible that Ash didn't fully understand her own powers. She was a bit old to manifest magic recently, but the ways of witches were not to be understood by men of Faith. The biggest advantage he had was her own clumsiness. It wouldn't even matter if she could change shape, she was stupid and predictable. Just as running to the beach had been a stupid move. Or so it seemed at the time until she hexed him. A witch perhaps, but a beer maid; a dullard. She would reveal herself to him and he would send her straight to Hell.

Meanwhile, Felipe Juarez dug through another dumpster looking for food. Ever since he had been transported to this insane city he'd been under a terrible hunger. His eyes widened in disbelief. In the trash was a large gold pan. He jumped into the dumpster and pulled it out. It was very heavy and he dropped it in the alley on its handle. The handle bent easily. Felipe smiled. He scrambled out of the trash bin. He would return to his hiding spot and work on the gold, breaking it down into easier carrying pieces. Soon he would have money to buy things, to find his beloved, faithless wife, Benita, and to win her back from his evil brother. This miracle had to be another sign that Felipe was on the correct path. Happiness eased his hunger and he moved swiftly out of sight.

Next: The Church of Broken Glass