Wicked Charms

  “Understood,” I said. “Do you have it?”

  He turned his back on the men and carefully extracted the leather pouch from his suit jacket.

  “We need to be discreet about this,” he said, handing the pouch over to me.

  I opened the pouch and looked inside. It was hard to tell on the dark street, but the stone was the right size and I could see some silver glinting off it. I touched it with my fingertip and felt nothing.

  “Uh-oh,” I said.

  I dropped the stone out of the pouch, into my hand. Nothing.

  “It’s not the stone,” I said.

  Rutherford looked stricken. “What do you mean? Of course it’s the stone. I found it in the garden. It was in the leather pouch.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “It’s a dud.”

  “Ha-ha, you’re pranking me, right? You’re kidding. That’s marvelous. I love it.”

  “No, I’m really sorry. This isn’t the stone.”

  I put the stone back into the pouch and handed it over to Rutherford.

  “Oh dear,” he said. “Oh dear. Oh dear.”

  He stumbled back and sat down hard on the cement step leading to the bank’s front door.

  I looked down at him. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m a dead man,” he said. “I lost the treasure. I lost the weird little guy with the red hair, and I can’t find the stone. I’m done. Dead. Maybe worse than dead.”

  “You have a couple hours,” I said. “You could keep digging.”

  “We’ve dug up everything. There’s nothing left to dig. The yard looks like it’s been bombed.” He looked up at me. “You have to give me the treasure. Please. Please, please with sugar on it.”

  “The truth is, there’s not much left,” I said. “We could only recover one bin.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ha-ha, ha-ha, ha. Only one bin. Ha-ha, ha. You mean it’s all gone?”

  I nodded.

  “Gone! Where did it go? Wait, I don’t care. Doesn’t matter, does it? It’s gone.”

  “Okay, you should calm yourself,” I said. “It’s not that bad. Things happen.”

  “No, no. You don’t understand. This is Mammon we’re talking about. The God of Greed. He doesn’t like when he loses treasure.”

  “It’s not Mammon,” I said. “It’s Martin Ammon. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “I don’t know. Ha-ha. Anal probes? Ha-ha.”

  “Maybe he still has the tranq gun in the car,” Diesel said. “We could plant one on him.”

  “We’re going to leave now,” I said to Rutherford. “If you find the stone you can call anytime.”

  “Yes, yes. I’ll do that. Of course. Yes, yes.”

  Diesel and I walked calmly across the road, got into the van, and told Clara what happened.

  “Drive off as if everything is perfectly normal,” I said to Clara. “We don’t want to alarm the men with the guns. And we especially don’t want the crazy man who’s pacing back and forth in front of the building to go completely gonzo.”

  “Too late,” Diesel said. “That ship has sailed.”

  “Now what?” Clara asked, winding her way around Salem.

  “I guess we take the treasure back to Gramps,” Diesel said. “He’s the expert at treasure redistribution.”

  —

  It was hard to drag myself out of bed in the morning. It had been a late night. Diesel was warm next to me. Cat was curled at the foot of the bed. Carl was in the laundry basket. I oozed out from under the quilt, trying not to disturb anyone, and shuffled into the bathroom. I stood in the shower until the room was steamy and I was pretty much awake. When I finally tiptoed out of the bathroom Carl and Diesel were still asleep. Cat was at the door, waiting for me.

  Cat and I went downstairs and I fixed Cat’s breakfast. “My life is a big mess,” I said to Cat. “I set drapes on fire and lose treasures and hook up with the wrong men. And I’m not just talking about romantic hookups. I’m talking about cookbook hookups, too.”

  Cat didn’t seem especially concerned. Cat was happy to have his half can of cat food.

  I was a half hour late getting to the bakery, and Clara had already started the yeast dough.

  “I’m not up to saving the world after eight o’clock at night,” Clara said. “Just take the keys next time you need the van.”

  “I’m hoping there won’t be a next time. It seems to me we’re at a dead end with the Avaritia Stone.”

  “Ammon must know where it is.”

  “I’m not sure what Ammon knows. I’m told dogs don’t have good short-term memory.”

  At eleven o’clock I was finishing the frosting on a batch of cupcakes, and Glo stuck her head in the kitchen.

  “He’s here!” Glo said.

  “Who?”

  “Martin Ammon! He wants to see you.”

  I made my way to the counter and tried my best to smile. “Hey,” I said. “How’s it going?”

  “I had a concussion. Nothing serious, but they wanted me to stay in the hospital for observation. I’m sure you heard.”

  I nodded. “Yup.”

  “I’m on my way home, but I wanted to stop by and personally invite you to the house to discuss the cookbook. We’ve gotten behind schedule.”

  “You still want to publish my cookbook?”

  “Of course. It’s a large part of the campaign. We have decisions to make. We need cover art and an author photo. I was thinking three o’clock. Does that work for you?”

  More head nodding. “Three is good.”

  We all watched him leave. He walked out on two legs and climbed into the backseat of a black Mercedes sedan. He didn’t bark or lift his leg on the tire. It looked like Rutherford was at the wheel.

  “You aren’t going to his house, are you?” Clara asked. “It could be a trap.”

  “Yeah,” Glo said. “Mammon could be waiting for you.”

  “He didn’t look like Mammon,” I said.

  “He didn’t look like a dog, either,” Glo said. “But I wouldn’t wear a rabbit jacket around him.”

  “He caught me off guard,” I said. “I’ll send him a text and tell him something came up.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  At one o’clock I tossed my chef coat in the laundry bin, hung my tote bag on my shoulder, and waved goodbye to Clara.

  “See you tomorrow,” I said.

  “Hope so,” Clara said.

  I walked to my car and realized Rutherford was hovering a short distance away.

  “A moment?” he said.

  “Sure. I guess Ammon understood about the missing treasure.”

  “Oh, of course, well, actually he doesn’t know. Just not enough hours in the day to get to everything. Lots of time to tell him about the treasure. Lots of time. The more pressing issue is to schedule a meeting between the two of you. Mr. Ammon received your text and was very disappointed. Perhaps you would be able to attend a meeting later today. Four o’clock or five o’clock, perhaps?”

  “No.”

  “Ha-ha. No? Ha-ha. That’s a good one. Just no.” He smoothed out his tie. “The thing is, Mr. Ammon has tasked me with ensuring your presence at Cupiditas sometime today.”

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  Rutherford pressed his lips together. He removed his pocket handkerchief and waved it, and four men in suits appeared out of nowhere. One of them tagged me with a stun gun, there was a loud buzzing in my head, and my legs collapsed. I was scooped up and tossed into the back of an Escalade.

  By the time my nerve endings stopped tingling and my muscles started working again, I was at Martin Ammon’s doorstep.

  “Oh my, that was something, wasn’t it?” Rutherford said, smiling wide, like this had been the fun experience of a lifetime. “I’ve never seen that before. Very impressive display of weaponry.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Yes, yes. Ha-ha. I’ve heard that before.” He motioned to the men. “Help M
iss Tucker into Mr. Ammon’s office. He would like to have a moment with her before the ceremony.”

  “Ceremony?”

  Rutherford pressed his hands together. Hard to tell what it signified since he was always grinning. Glee? Terror? Nervous excitement?

  “Yes!” he said. “Finally. This is the day we’ve all been waiting for. This is to be the rebirth of Mammon. Very exciting. Very wonderful. Yes, indeed. Big day. Big, big.”

  “You’ve found the Avaritia Stone.”

  “Mr. Ammon knew exactly where he’d left it. It was in his sock drawer! Imagine! It just brings a smile to my face.”

  I went slack-jawed. Didn’t he know his face was in a perpetual grin? The man looked like the Joker. He had to have cheek muscles that could crack a walnut.

  I was marched into Ammon’s office and placed in front of his desk like a seven-year-old standing in front of the principal. The security force and Rutherford retreated to the far wall and stood at parade rest.

  “Miss Tucker,” Ammon said. “I’m glad you could find time for this meeting. It’s really very important to me. I like to keep everything neat and tidy. Now that I’m recovered from my concussion, I thought we should have this meeting prior to the ceremony. I want your mind to be at ease. As you know, I have your signed contract, which gives me total control over everything you’ve ever owned or created. In fact, I’ve already begun to produce products under your brand. So you can rest easy when you’re gone that your legacy will live on.”

  “You put coloring and preservatives into my cookies!”

  “It makes the product much more cost-effective. When I put your picture on the label with all your wholesome blondness the consumer will never think to check the label. It’s genius, isn’t it?”

  “It’s awful!”

  “Now that you understand all this, we can move on to the real reason you’re here. The holy ceremony to release our lord Mammon requires that all elements be in place at the time of the ceremony. We need the human who carries Mammon and will assume his very soul. That would be me. We need the Avaritia Stone. I have it here on my desk. And as you can see, I also have the coin and the Blue Diamond. At the last moment we realized we’d completely forgotten about the diamond. Fortunately we were able to locate it in your kitchen.”

  “We didn’t want to disturb you while you were at work,” Rutherford said. “I was sure you wouldn’t mind if we looked around your house. We were very careful not to disturb anything. Although I’m afraid we did slightly destroy your door, but we’ll reimburse you for the repairs. And goodness, your cat is quite ferocious. Ha-ha. He’s quite the attack cat.”

  “You better not have hurt him,” I said.

  “Oh no. No, no. Goodness, he’s a delightful creature. I gave him a bite of muffin before we left. I hope that was all right.”

  “And last but not least,” Ammon said, “we need to sacrifice a high priestess with special abilities. That will be you.”

  Oh boy.

  “I’m not a high priestess,” I said. “I’m a baker.”

  “You’re too modest. Your abilities are apparent.”

  “You won’t get away with this. You’ll be arrested and sent to jail.”

  “I’ll be Mammon. I’ll own the world. I’ll be untouchable.”

  “Yeah, but what if you don’t turn into Mammon? You’ll just be some nutcase who killed someone.” I looked over at Rutherford. “You, too.”

  Rutherford wiped his hands on his slacks. “Ha-ha! Good one. Very funny. That’s why we’re so fond of you.”

  “Take her away and prepare her,” Ammon said.

  Prepare me? What did that mean?

  I had a man on either side of me, plus Rutherford.

  “We have a lovely chapel in the basement,” Rutherford said, guiding me out of Ammon’s office. “We’ll hold the ceremony there. It’s nice and quiet. Very private.”

  “So no one will hear me screaming?”

  “Oh goodness, you won’t be screaming. It’s a very moving ceremony. You’ll be honored. You’re a lucky young woman. Very lucky.”

  “I’m surprised you’re still here,” I said to Rutherford. “It will be even worse for you if he actually turns into Mammon. Imagine how angry he’ll be to learn he’s lost that treasure.”

  “Oh no, no. I’m sure he’ll understand. And I’ve taken measures to get the treasure back. It’s only a matter of time.”

  We went down a flight of stairs to a short hallway that led to a small vestibule. The floor was marble. There were candles lit in wall niches. Double doors led into a medium-sized room with stained-glass windows. There was an altar and several rows of pews. To one side of the double doors was another single door. Rutherford opened it to a large powder room. A white gown had been draped over an elaborate gilt chair.

  “We’re ready to begin,” Rutherford said. “This lovely white gown has been prepared for you.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, no. We’re quite serious. Mr. Ammon has spared no expense to make this ceremony perfect. And once you’re sacrificed to Mammon you’ll be a queen in his kingdom. It will be fabulous. Just fabulous.”

  “I’m not putting the dress on.”

  “Oh dear, Mr. Ammon will be disappointed. And there’s no telling what Mammon might think. Honestly, I don’t think you want to make Mammon angry. He is, after all, one of the seven princes of hell.”

  So here’s the honest-to-gosh truth. I’m terrified, and all I can think to do is stall. Time is my friend, right? If I’m down here in this loony bin long enough, surely Diesel will find me.

  “Okay, I’ll put the dress on, but I need privacy.”

  “Of course,” Rutherford said. “Come out when you’re ready.”

  After five minutes Rutherford knocked on the door. “How’s it going?”

  “I’m almost ready.”

  Five minutes more and there was another knock on the door. “Do you need help?”

  “No!”

  “Everyone is in place.”

  “Mammon’s waited this long. He can wait a little longer.”

  “Ha-ha, that’s why we love you. Wonderful sense of humor. Seriously, I’m going to have to send some men in to get you.”

  I blew out a sigh and dropped the white gown over my head. It looked like a choir robe with a plunging neckline. I stepped out of the powder room and stood in front of Rutherford.

  “You have your clothes on under the gown,” he said. “You were supposed to take your clothes off.”

  “I don’t want to take my clothes off.”

  “Of course. I understand completely. Maybe no one will notice.”

  We walked into the chapel and I noticed Hatchet was there. He was naked, hanging upside down from a hook in the ceiling.

  “Greetings, wench,” Hatchet said. “I fear you doth have thrown me under the bus.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking. It was one of those spur-of-the-moment things.”

  “You can take your place of honor, here by the altar,” Rutherford said to me.

  I was trying to stay calm. I needed to be vigilant. If an opportunity arose for escape I had to be ready.

  “How is this going to happen?” I asked Rutherford.

  “I believe Mr. Ammon has settled on strangulation. It’s much less messy than a bullet or a knife. This is our first human sacrifice, so we’re learning as we go.”

  “How long are you going to have Hatchet hanging there?”

  “Until he tells us where he hid the treasure.”

  “He didn’t hide the treasure. I lied to you. Diesel and I took the bins out of the vault and gave the treasure away.”

  “Very admirable. Noble, even, that you should want to help Mr. Hatchet. I would expect no less from you. A charming gesture.”

  “Thou be a pig’s behind,” Hatchet said to Rutherford.

  “Ha-ha. Yes, yes. Good one,” Rutherford said.

  Martin Ammon entered and pretended not to notice Hatchet. “H
er hands aren’t tied,” Ammon said to Rutherford. “Honestly, what have you been doing all this time? Mammon is impatient.”

  “Well, ah, ha-ha, I was never instructed to tie her hands,” Rutherford said.

  “Standard protocol is to tie the victim’s hands,” Ammon said.

  “My mistake,” Rutherford said. “I’ll have them tied immediately.” He looked over at the four men standing guard at the door. “Charles, would you be so kind as to secure Miss Tucker for us.”

  Charles stepped forward, took a flexible plastic handcuff from his back pocket, and tied my hands behind my back. Rutherford smiled and looked expectantly at Ammon.

  “Much better,” Ammon said, “but she should be kneeling.”

  Rutherford rushed to my side and helped me kneel.

  “We can now begin,” Ammon said, very solemnly. “Rutherford, clear the room.”

  Rutherford nodded to the four men standing to one side, and they silently left the room and closed the door.

  “Do you have the Book of Mammon?” Ammon asked Rutherford.

  “Indeed,” Rutherford said, all smiles. “Yes, yes. It’s right here on the altar, turned to the appropriate page.”

  “And the Avaritia Stone?”

  “Also on the altar in its special container.”

  Ammon stepped forward and removed the stone from an engraved silver container, and I could see it was glowing a brilliant green.

  “Ahhhh,” Ammon said. “I feel the power. Who am I, Rutherford?”

  Rutherford clasped his hands together. “You’re a fallen angel. Yes, yes. You’re the Lord God of Pandemonium. One of the seven princes of hell.”

  “Suddenly it all makes sense,” Ammon said. “I always knew, of course. I always knew that I mattered more than others. That what I wanted was more important. That my desires were to be honored above those of others. That I was on a higher plane. I never said it aloud before this, because, well, you know, I might have come off as a sociopath. I would have been misunderstood. But now I understand. I’ve always felt more important than others because I am more important. I am Mammon!”

  “Well, ah, technically, we haven’t performed the ceremony yet,” Rutherford said.