Tales of Ye Olde Towne Coffee

Chapter One

Of Plots, Plans, and Other Stuff

Mage’s Guild Council Hall

New Orleans, Louisiana

Roland Dupuis looked around the empty council hall and experienced mixture of emotions…fear, anger, and disgust all rolled into one. He stood on the dais in the middle of the small amphitheater , his eyes falling momentarily on the faint blood stain where his brother was killed only a few weeks ago.

No, the old man mentally corrected himself, not killed…he was murdered.

Of course, Roland couldn’t help but see the bitter irony. His brother, Sebastian, head of one of the most powerful assassin clans, and Grand Patriarch of the Mage’s Guild, killed in a duel by a young upstart who wasn’t even of full Guilder blood. The boy, who claimed blood the damned Moreau line demanded a rite of vengeance and the fools of the governing enclave granted it.

Moreau…that was a name that Roland had thought he had the heard the last of almost twenty years ago when he and his brother systematically wiped out the various family members. The Moreau had been their rivals for nearly two hundred years and the feud finally ended when Sebastian killed Andre Moreau and assumed control of the Mages Guild. The scions of the Moreau family had been hunted down and killed…except for one. One of Moreau’s daughter’s had escaped the purging because she had been shunned by her family years before.

Again, that bitter taste of irony left it’s metal tang at the back of Roland’s mouth. The young woman had been one of the main catalysts for the final conflict with the Moreau. Apparently, the bitch had a son and it was the son who killed his way to the Council chambers and called Sebastian out. It also did not help that the boy had proof of some of Sebastian’s more questionable dealings that would have resulted in him being removed as Grand Patriarch if it was presented. When the McCade boy issued his challenge to the Grand Patriarch, Sebastian, accepted no doubt believing that killing this upstart would end his troubles. It wasn’t until the duel started that it was revealed to be a clever trap by McCade. Though well into his seventies, Sebastian Dupuis was more than a match for wizards and assassins half his age. He obviously assumed that McCade, being an outcast of Guild society, would be easy prey. It was a mistake that cost him his life as the “boy” disemboweled him before removing his head.

Then the boy, according to Guild Law, assumed the mantle of Grand Patriarch and ordered Sebastian’s mansion burned to the ground and the property sold to…of all things…to a company called Wal-Mart. Then McCade stepped down and left, declaring the office open to election. Twenty years of absolute power, destroyed in forty five minutes.

As expected, Sebastian’s death left a power vacuum and others scrambled to claim the mantle of Grand Patriarch. After two days, Emerson Bonacieux won the election. Though an ally of the Dupuis clan, Emerson could not repeal his predecessor ‘s order. The Dupuis family manor was burned to the ground and the land sold to…Wal-Mart.

That was one month ago. The council had been out of session for the last two weeks as new policy changes were enacted. With the death of Sebastian Dupuis, the balance had been upset and now new political forces were starting to make their presence known. Sebastian had ruled the Guilds with an iron fist and none dared to oppose the Dupuis.

But that little bastard changed it all.

Roland clenched and unclenched his fists in frustration.

We may have destroyed the Moreau, but this McCade hurt us. That cannot go unpunished.

Footsteps brought him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see a cloaked figure make their way down the steps of the amphitheater towards the dais. A smile tugged at the corner of Roland’s mouth as the figure lowered the hood of her cloak.

“Ah, Gwendolyn, it’s good to see you again. How long has it been?”

The attractive blonde returned his smile, though the smile did not make it to her gray eyes which hinted at the cold and calculating intelligence behind them. “Four years,” she said. “I thought I made myself clear last time when I said not to contact me unless you find a challenge worth my efforts.”

“Oh, you made yourself clear, alright,” chuckled Roland. “Your note and the head you sent back made it very clear, but did you really have to kill the messenger?”

Gwendolyn shrugged . “Would you have taken my message seriously if I hadn‘t killed him?” she asked.

Roland thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “No, probably not.”

Gwendolyn looked around the council chamber, her gaze pausing for a moment on the Bonacieux family crest on a banner that hung from the ceiling. “Hmmm, I see that the décor has changed since I’ve been here.” She glanced back at Roland, the hint of a mischievous grin on her face. “My being here wouldn’t happen to somehow be connected with the recent setback suffered by the Dupuis clan, would it?”

“Among other things,” said Roland. He reached into his coat and pulled out a folder, hesitating a moment before handing it to Gwendolyn. “Are you interested?”

“Roland, you sent a half million dollars to me in France just to ‘talk’ to me. Of course I’m interested.” Gwendolyn took the folder and opened it. Her cold eyes regarded the picture of the young man sitting on a park bench and sipping a mocha before returning their attention to the old man standing in front of her. “You have got to be joking.”

Roland shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “read the accompanying file. This is information we’ve recently gathered about him.”

Reluctantly, more out of disgust than anything else, Gwendolyn went over the file. Within a minute, her disgust actually gave way to mild interest. “So this is Jesse McCade?”

“I take it you’ve heard of him,” said Roland.

“A few stories here and there. From what I understand, he was based out of and operated mostly in the New York area, a low level player in the business.” Gwendolyn paused for a moment as the realization struck her. “He killed Sebastian?”

Roland nodded in response and she smiled. “Well then,” she said as she closed the folder. “Consider your five hundred thousand as a down payment. “When the job is done, I would like an additional two million.”

“Then we have a deal,” said Roland. “Another two million upon completion of the contract.”

“You must think very highly of the threat posed by this McCade, Roland,” said Gwendolyn as she pulled the hood of her cloak back up over her head. “Or you must hate him so much to not haggle my price.”

She started to walk away, but stopped and turned back after a few steps. “One thing puzzles me though,” she said. “Your clan has some very capable assassins, especially your grandson Nicholas…why not send them?”

“Because it’s best that an outsider handles this,” said Roland. “The last thing I need is to drag my clan into another war that might cause some complications.”

“Really?” chuckled Gwendolyn. “He managed to damage you that much politically as well?”

“That is none of your concern,” snapped Roland. “You have a job, kill him and be done with it.”

Gwendolyn didn’t bother to hide her amusement. “Well, if this McCade is actually causing you this much trouble, then maybe he will be quite the challenge after all.”

“This is not a game, Gwendolyn. If McCade remains alive, our enemies may see us as weak and completely depose us and that,” Roland shot her sharp look, “could change things drastically for others like you.”

“Ah, upsetting the status-quo would be a bad thing,” said Gwendolyn. “I guess you’re right about that. I do tend to like the current arrangement. However, there’s nothing wrong in appreciating a challenge.”

“And I’m warning you, Gwendolyn, do not underestimate him.”

“I never underestimate my enemies, Roland, you of all people should know that.” Gwendolyn turned and started to walk away again. “Besides,” she added as she continued up the steps and disappeared into the shadows. “I wouldn’t have lived these last two centuries if I did.”

Roland stood there on the dais, looking up at the Bonacieux banner hanging from the ceiling with a mixture of disgust. He had nothing against the Bonacieux, after all, they had always been close allies of the Dupuis clan, but Roland had always considered the them to be inferiors…followers, not leaders.

But this is only a minor setback, he thought to himself. We will regain our standing…but first, we must destroy our enemies.

Yes, this was only a setback. Jesse McCade was a threat and had to be eliminated. After that, it would only be a matter of time before the Dupuis reclaimed their status as the ruling clan and he, Roland Dupuis, would be Grand Patriarch.

* * * * *

1302 Bay Street

Bellingham, Washington

Bellingham, Washington. When one looks it up on the internet, it is described as a small to medium-sized city of around 70,000 people, is situated on Bellingham Bay which opens onto the Strait of Georgia. It’s north of the Chuckanut Mountains, west of Mount Baker, and, despite being a growing city, still manages to maintain it’s small town charm…or at least tries to by kicking and screaming in a desperate attempt to avoid becoming a cesspool like Seattle.

Truth be told, I really didn’t give a damn about the statistics of the place. It was way on the other side of the country away from some bad people and it seemed like a nice place to lie low for a year or two. Well…that, and the fact that it also had enough magical activity to guarantee that I wouldn’t die of boredom. But then, about a month ago, after dealing with some nasty demons from my past, I decided it was time to look for a way out. Yeah, I know, it sounds kind of cliché, but it kind of occurred to me that my life, while there were some benefits, kind of sucked because it either a) led me down a really dark path or b) led to a very messy end to a very short life.

Of course, it could also have been something to do with the fact that I had just finished off a family vendetta that I really wanted nothing to do with. Sure, there are some people who think killing some guy in charge and assuming his mantle of power is kind of cool, but not me. I only killed the bastard in self-defense, justified by the fact that he tried to have me killed because I was the remaining scion of some family he had tried to wipe out. Imagine my shock when, upon liberating his head from his shoulders, I had a shot at absolute power. Yeah…Jesse McCade, freelance mage-killer and Grand Patriarch of the Mage’s Guild…no thanks. But I did enjoy my fifteen minutes of glory by ordering the bastard’s ancestral home burned to the ground and the property sold to Wal-Mart.

Irony, gotta’ love it…although, in hindsight, I should have kept the money for myself instead of having it distributed among members of the Crafter’s Guild. But as the old saying goes, live and learn. I ditched the money, ditched the power, and high-tailed it as far as I could. Yes, I killed the Grand Patriarch of the Mage’s Guild but I’d be delusional if I thought I’d be allowed to retain that power. The Dupuis clan were very powerful and they had some powerful friends. I knew they wouldn’t be stupid enough to come after me right away, but I sure as hell wasn’t planning on sticking around to give them a chance to take a shot (or several, in their case) at me.

So here I was in Bellingham, Washington. I had only been here for a few weeks, but I have to admit the town tends to grow on a person. Well, that and there’s the added bonus that the people of Bellingham didn’t really seem to notice the strange shit happening around the area. Case in point, a troll could walk through the downtown area and he’d be mistaken as a large homeless person in worn out clothing. Unless, of course, said troll decided to “play the stereotype” and start acting like the dim-witted, club swinging, rampaging monsters they are portrayed as in various media. If that’s the case, then you’re in trouble, but that only happened once during that New Year’s Party back in 2000 and, to be honest, Henry was drunk and it was a masquerade ball.

Anyway, it was eleven in the morning and I found myself in an empty building space on Bay Street. I was still reeling from the fact that I had made the decision to buy out this old coffee house that had closed its doors a couple weeks ago. I had spoken with the owner on the phone about it when it was announced that he was shutting the place down. I had planned on negotiating a deal with him when I took the Montrose contract and had Henry deal with it. Hey, Henry may be a troll, but he’s very good when talking about business…yeah…go figure that one out.

However, it seemed that the owner of the place, an enigmatic character named Boo…yes, his name was Boo…wanted to talk to me face to face. So I showed up and found the place unlocked, but the owner was no where in sight. I walked around the lower level, looking at the empty counter and the kitchen area behind it. Yes, they moved everything out, but it wouldn’t be too hard to replace the equipment

A scuffling sound followed by a soft mewl made me turn around and find a calico cat pawing at the front door. I knelt down and tapped the window. “Hey buddy, where’d you come from?”

“We’ve never been able to figure that one out.”

I almost jumped and spun around, assuming a defensive posture. Not very many people can sneak up on me like that, so needless to say I reacted on instinct…only to feel foolish when I realized it was just some bald guy wearing glasses, jeans, and a plaid shirt standing there. “Jeez, don’t do that..scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry about that, couldn’t resist.” The man grinned as extended his hand towards me. “Robert Holden, but everyone calls me Boo.”

“Jesse McCade,” I said, shaking the man’s hand. “Boo, huh? As in the character from ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ Boo?”

“Actually more because I tend to scare people,” Boo snapped back. “Though I’m shocked that someone of your generation has actually read that book, seeing as how you people seem more content with watching the ‘movie’ version or getting all your reading material on-line.”

“Unusual upbringing.” I gestured over my shoulder at the cat pawing at the door behind me. “That your cat?”

“Not exactly,” said Boo. “Joscoe was kind of a regular. He would simply come in and curl up in front of one of the windows. We’d feed him scraps from time to time, but he usually showed up chewing on a piece of fish or something.”

He looked past me at the cat, a sad look on his face. “I felt bad when I had to close the place…tried to take him with me, but he disappeared the day after we shut down. He didn’t show up again until today.”

“Really? You going to let him in?”

“Sure, open the door for him.”

I opened the door and the cat backed away before assuming a sitting position and looking up at me, his head tilted slightly to the side as if he were studying me.

“So, you coming in or not? I asked.

The cat called Joscoe mewled at me and slowly approached the door. But once he crossed the threshold of the doorway, he suddenly became a black, white, and brown blur that immediately made himself home in front of one of the windows, curling up into a black, white, and brown ball.

“Ooookay…that was interesting,” I said as I looked at the cat that had only moments before was behaving like your typical timid cat and was now acting like he owned the place.

“So, Mr. McCade,” said Boo as he sat down at a table…a table and a couple chairs that weren’t there a moment ago before I was distracted by the cat. “Have a seat.”

I sat down and tried to keep my expression neutral and businesslike, though my mind was mentally screaming in alarm. Yes, there was definite magic involved here…I could sense it now…but how the hell did I not feel it before I entered?

“So what do you think of the place?” asked Boo.

“Not bad at all,” I said and it was the truth. It was a decent place, though something told me that this was more than just a business discussion. It almost felt like an interrogation session. We spent the next few minutes talking about what I had planned on doing with the place, the kind of clientele I would deal with, and it actually looked like we were about to strike a deal when he hit me with a question that came out of nowhere.

“Okay, McCade, let’s cut through the bullshit…why are you here?” Though there was some guarded hostility in his voice, Boo sounded more curious than anything else.

“Like I told you, I’m interested in starting up my own business and I think this coffee house has a lot of potential."

"Alright, let me rephrase the question," said Boo. "Why is a Mage-Killer and 'former' Guild Patriarch interested in buying my business?"

That question actually shut me up for a minute or two and while most people probably would have been annoyed by the long silent break in conversation, Boo just sat there watching me as I pondered the answer. Several lies, half-truths, and the whole truth actually presented themselves as possible answers, but I somehow knew he would catch me in a lie and that would probably lead to this deal falling through. As for the truth...again...there were several things I could have told him, but I wasn't sure which answer he wanted to here. So, in the end...and probably out of desperation...I gave him the only truthful answer I felt sure of.

“I don't know,” I finally said. And it was true, I really didn't know.

“Hmm...you don't know.” Boo regarded me for a moment and I couldn't tell if he was disappointed by my answer or not. After a few more seconds of silence, he hit me with another question. “Okay...what do you know? And be honest with me about it.”

Though the tone was friendly, I could hear it in his voice. This was it...the one question that could make or break this deal depending how I answered it. I thought about it for a moment, trying to find some way to elegantly BS my way into a deal, but pretty much abandoned that idea. Fuck it...if he wanted an honest answer...I'd give him one.

“Fine, the truth. I'm twenty-five years old, I've been a killer for almost the last ten years, and I know that given my 'unique' background I'm either going to end up being like those uptight assholes that make up the ranking members of my community or I'm going to come to a messy end because those same uptight assholes will probably have me taken out and it will probably be very messy.” I shook my head in resignation as I leaned back in my seat which actually started to feel comfortable. “I don't know...maybe I just want to have a change, be something else other than a slacker who kills just to make ends meet. Let's face it...aside from the magic...I'm just a glorified thug with special abilities and I want to be more than that.”

Boo just sat there in silence again, just watching me. “I see,” he finally said. “Well, you were honest with me, boy, and I appreciate it. Most kids your age aren't capable of that and would probably try to bullshit their way through an explanation.” He gave me a cryptic smile that made me wonder if he knew that I had considered that option. “So I'm going to be honest with you, kid...I don't think you're ready to buy this place.”

“Oh,” I said...feeling as if I was punched in the gut. “I see.”

“I don't think you do, kid.” Boo shook his head and chuckled. “I said you weren't ready to buy the place from me, but I didn't say we don't have a deal.”

“Huh?”

He pushed some papers across the table to me, which was kind of weird because I could have sworn there weren't any papers there a few seconds earlier. “Here's the deal, Jesse McCade. I propose a silent partnership for a year or two. I'll still retain half ownership during that time, but you'll be assuming the duties and responsibilities of ownership. At the end of that time, we'll know if you're ready to own this place.”

I spent the next several minutes looking over the paperwork. “I take it you're still going to take my two hundred thousand as collateral?”

Boo shrugged off my question. “Think of it as a business investment with some risk in it.”

“That's a lot of risk,” I said, but that didn't stop me from signing off on the paperwork.

“When you think about it though, it could be a bargain,” said Boo. “Especially for what you're asking for. The only question now is: are you willing to stick with it to the end?”

“Seeing as how it's most of my savings, I don't think I have a choice.” I signed the last page of the paper work and then handed the stack of papers back to him.

“We all have choices, McCade...it's more of a question of having the spine to make them.” Boo took the papers and looked through them. “Yes...this will do nicely. Just remember, kid, this is what you wanted.”

I turned to look out the front window of the building and watched as a couple people walked by. A couple cars drove by as well and I found myself momentarily jealous of them. Those were normal people with normal lives and normal problems...I know it sounded kind of selfish, but I wanted that too. Those people were unaware of the world I lived in and even though it would be a lie, at least I could pretend to be a part of that world, running my own little coffee house and not running around killing some dark magical or demonic being out to destroy, transform, or enslave the world.

“Yeah,” I said, still looking out the window. “It is something I want.”

I was expecting him to say something, but I got silence instead. When I turned back to face him, he was gone. I didn't hear his chair move or hear him get up from the table, but he was gone...along with the paperwork. The only thing there was a small post-it note stuck on the table with three words scribbled on it.

~Good luck, kid.~

The cat called Joscoe mewled once and suddenly jumped from his perch by the front window and onto the table. He sniffed the post-it note once, purring loudly, and then looked up at me.

“Yeah, bud...he's gone, but you're welcome to stick around.”

Joscoe then curled up on the table and closed his eyes again, one of his paws draped across the post-it note, purring contentedly. I wasn't sure at the time, but I could have sworn there was something damn peculiar about that cat. But I really didn't care, the place was mine, and things were starting to look up.

Well...that's how it looked at the time. Guess I should have known better.