The Merry Men Masquerade

4. What Goes Up

super mild tw for very (very) brief implication of domestic abuse at the end of the chapter

𓃢𓃢𓃢

The walk to the shop took them down a lengthy stretch of the alley and past an increasingly bizarre array of vendors. The last: a lanky man with skin mottled by scars and four huge bats hanging from his upturned arms, asleep. He had one eye permanently clawed shut and clusters of twin puncture marks over his neck and wrists.

One bat unfurled its wings to reveal a cute, pinched face and beady black eyes.

Amir stared too close and too long, and Ronan opened his mouth to warn him too late. The bat bared its teeth in a hiss and its entire face transformed; the skin drew taut over its skull, the whites of its eyes bulged, and two front teeth stretched into fangs as long as Ronan's little finger. Amir jumped and whipped his gaze straight ahead, his shoulders hiked up to his ears.

"Vampire bats," said Tony. She was definitely laughing.

They came to a stop at one of the alley's many dead ends, where a pair of windows looked into a nondescript shop. Between them was a rotting wooden door, and above that, what might have once been a sign.

Amir took a bracing breath. It left him all at once when they stepped through a doorway to a shop that was oddly . . . normal.

But if one looked closer, the shelves lining the grease-stained walls carried a decidedly strange assortment of items: pocket watches and daggers and animal claws, mysterious pouches and throwing stars and small jars full of toxic-looking fluids. No item appeared twice, and each was marked with a price.

Two men in sharp suits stood behind a counter, the shorter of them engaged in a passionate bargaining match with the only other customer over the small animal skull in her hand. It wasn't any animal with which Ronan was familiar.

"What is this place?" Amir stared, transfixed, at a clear bowl of murky water where a fish swam idly, changing colors and patterns with a pop and a flurry of bubbles every few seconds - purple and spotted to orange and striped to pink and plain.

"Delancey's Pawn Shop for Illicit Odds and Ends," Tony recited in sing-song.

At the sound of his name, the taller of the pawnbrokers looked up. His face, as well as his partner's, hid behind a scarf, but his eyes were visible, and they brightened when he spotted them.

"If it isn't my favorite customers!" He clapped his hands together and stepped out from behind the counter, utterly ignoring his seller.

"Customer, you mean," Ronan grumbled under his breath. Next to him, Tony's eyes glittered beneath her hood.

Delancey didn't bother with pleasantries; the backdoor was unlocked and propped open by the time they reached him. They were swallowed into a small office space with a single table at the center, one chair tucked into either side, and a bookshelf against one wall stocked with pawned items. Delancey pulled the nearest seat out for Tony before easing down across from her, and just like that, Ronan and Amir were forgotten.

"I've been waiting since I saw the morning papers," said Delancey. He had a voice like honey, rich and smooth and sugary sweet. Tony leaned in willingly as he reached for her across the table. Hands cloaked in silk pushed back her hood, then reached behind her to pull the cloth from her face. "You've outdone yourself this time, darling."

Tony's smile turned immodest. Ronan wanted to leave.

"Sorry to interrupt-" he was not, "-but you may have noticed, we have a new member."