Savior: A Grimdark Urban Fantasy Novella (Book Three of Urban Legends) by Lewis Aldanis

Author:Lewis Aldanis [Aldanis, Lewis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12 - PREPARATIONS AND OLD FRIENDS

The washroom smells of shea butter and aftershave. Alber has disappeared, no doubt nearby in his invisible cloak, and Ross grooms himself in the mirror, combing back his gray hair.

I hear Alber’s grunting voice: “We’re going to try to take an old god’s power, and you’re preening yourself?”

“If I didn’t look after myself every time I’m to nearly die or suffer an unimaginable amount of pain, I would probably look like you, dwarf,” Ross says.

“So it’s preparation to stop shitting yourself,” Alber muses.

“Maybe,” Ross says. “And appearances matter in casinos, if we’re to meet this old god of Aldo’s.”

“It’s why I took us here,” I say. “Buan is a tailor who stitches wards and protection spells into his clothing. It’ll help us for what’s to come.”

I open the door into the tailor’s shop. Rolls of silk, cotton, and other expensive-looking cloth hang in stacked shelves. An elderly man looks up from behind a desk and smiles. Despite his wizened face, his dark eyes are bright and alert, flitting between me and Ross.

“Aldo,” he says in Tagalog. “It’s been some time since you’ve been here. How is Jaoel?”

“Hello, Tito Buan,” I say. “Tito Jaoel… passed, a year ago.”

Buan bows his head, shadows creasing around his closed eyes. “I see. I’m sorry. He was a fair man. But I see he lives on in you, now.”

Jaoel’s soul rested in the anting-anting amulet he gave me before he died. In a sense, he was still with me, in spirit.

“I suppose you’ve come here for my services,” Buan says.

“Yes,” I say. “My friend and I need some suits to go to the Shangri-La casino.”

Tito Buan pauses. “Then you know who calls that cursed place home. My scripts and wards will require special treatment to protect you from any magic there. To stop a god’s magic takes another god’s power. But there’s no guarantee it will protect you from him. Still, I will try, and call upon other influences to protect you. When do you need the suits?”

“Today,” I say, firm. “We can’t afford to wait any longer.”

“I see. You’ve grown a bit since I last saw you. Let me measure you and your friend here.” The old man says in English, “And who might you be?”

Ross says, “Ross De Galis, sir. Pleased to meet you.”

“Hmm. It’s been some time since I’ve met a member of the Order. Your kind already dress impeccably well. I thought all you arbiters cared about was stopping apocalypses and killing monsters.”

“That’s what we’re here for, if it comes to it,” I say.

Buan stands from his chair, takes out measuring tape and hunches next to us. “Apolaki controls most of this place, Aldo. Manila is his fiefdom, and we are his subjects. Maybe not as obvious as before, but he is the god of war here, and war will always be made with men.”

With a practiced efficiency, the old tailor records our measurements on a notepad. “He has his own cult working in the casino, and the local police are in his pocket as well.

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