The soft chime of a small brass bell filled the air as a young man clad in ripped jeans, a ragged old Nintendo t-shirt, and a tattered flannel shirt stepped through the heavy oak door. His manky boots clomped on the welcome mat, stamping off the worst of the wet from outside. Thanks to stamping on just the right spot and suffusing just a bit of magic into the mat, it had the effect of completely drying him from head to toe.

“Evening, Chris,” the girl behind the counter said, tucking a strand of neon purple hair behind her ear.

“Hey Cay,” he said, switching off his headphones and hanging them around his neck. “Busy day?”

“Noooope, boring as hell,” she laughed mirthlessly, leaning forward on the counter. “You?”

Chris failed miserably at not looking down her shirt as she leaned forward, which judging by her wicked smile had been the intention. “Nah. Lots of regular mundane errands. Did almost get into a fight with this total Karen at the grocery store. Would have loved to see her deal with a nice hex or something.”

“Karens are already enough of a curse in and of themselves without adding real magic to the mix,” she laughed. “Nate’s in the back, by the way. Said he wanted to see you before your shift starts.”

“Alright. Thanks, Cay. See you in a few, I hope.” He stepped around the old wood counter and back through the space between the counter and the back wall.

Cay made a big show of pressing herself against the counter to make space for him, despite it not being necessary. As soon as he walked past, she quickly thrust her backside out, bumping him, grinning like a fiend.

“Evil,” he chuckled, opening the door to the back.

“You know it, bitch.” She returned to skimming Reddit on her tablet as he passed through the door.

Unlike the quaint storefront, which was all wood, ancient rugs, glass display cases, and charming antiques, the back hallway was modern, sleek, with magical lighting illuminating the gray marble floors and stark white walls. There were numerous storage rooms all along the hallway, and another was created any time there was a need. At the moment though, his destination was the large glass double doors on the left.

He knocked out of courtesy, and when bidden, stepped into the office proper. The space was tidy and efficiently laid out for economy of movement. A large modern glass-top desk sat at the center of the room with a top of the line computer perched upon it. Behind it sat the august Nathaniel Owens.

“Ah, Chris, good evening. I take it you finished the tasks I assigned you?” he asked, pushing his half-moon spectacles up the bridge of his nose. The man looked as though he couldn’t be older than his mid forties, at most, with streaks of gray running through otherwise short trimmed coal black hair. His attire was as always an impeccable black suit with a white tie.

“Yep. I was just coming in to start my shift in the shop, Nate. Cay said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Indeed,” he smiled warmly, “I have a few deliveries for you to make tonight. Nothing too dangerous.”

“Alright,” Chris nodded, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. “Nothing ever stops me from making a delivery.”

“Which is why you are my favorite delivery person and apprentice, my boy!” Nathaniel chuckled and moved around his desk.

“I’m your only delivery person and apprentice.” Chris shot back with a wry grin.

“Be that as it may, you are still my favorite!” Nathaniel stepped through the doors to his office and started walking back the long hallway like a man on a mission.

How the old man knew where everything was without consulting the guide, Chris could never guess. It took him ages if he had to sort through ‘the stacks’ by himself.

This time he led the way to room 322, and pressed his thumb to the keyhole. After a moment, the door vanished, and he stepped inside. “Here we are, the items in question.”

Nathaniel picked up a rectangular object wrapped in heavy cloth and handed it over, followed by a crystal clear spherical object bound in glyphed leather straps, and finally a dagger in an ornate sheath, tied with delicate silvery chains to prevent being drawn.

Chris carefully tucked each into his warded satchel, making sure each was secure in its own ‘obscured pocket’.

“Here’s the information you’ll need for the delivery locations. Take care as always, my boy,” Nathaniel said cheerily, patting his shoulder as he handed over an envelope.

“Will do, thanks Nate, see you after I’m done.” He turned and left the room, reaching back to tap the door frame twice with his knuckles. The door re-appeared in its frame, securely locked as ever. Satisfied, he headed back down the hallway towards the storefront.

“How’d it go?” Cay asked as he emerged from the back.

“Got a few deliveries to make,” he said, shifting the weight of the satchel. “Nothing too big. Won’t take long.”

“Good luck,” she said, smiling and wiggling her fingers cutely. “Don’t get mugged, pretty boy.”

Her nickname for him had always confused him. He was tall, broad shouldered, naturally well toned from his physical lifestyle… nothing about him was ‘pretty’. Handsome, maybe, but not pretty. Somehow, pretty inspired the thoughts of the sorts of guys you saw in boy bands, especially younger guys. He was glad not to look anything like them.

He already caught enough shit from his parents for his magical aptitude leaning so dark, and for his job with Mr. Owens… he didn’t need ‘looking like some twink fairy’ on top of that. Dad’s words, not his.

“I’ll be careful, promise,” he said back, rolling his eyes at her. “Keep dinner warm for me,” he added as he gripped the handle to the small antique door in the corner - a door marked “Employees Only.”

Your average person, the average non-magical sort that might enter this shop, would think nothing of it, not bothering to do the mental gymnastics required to realize that there couldn’t possibly be a room beyond this door, because this wall was an exterior wall. The door was, in reality, a gateway - enchanted to connect one space to many other spaces.

Typically these sorts of connections had to be regulated, controlled, the kinds of things that the paper pushers in charge of the magical community loved. Good ol’ Nathaniel, though, he didn’t care for all that red tape… so he just created his own little network. Depending on where the door was told to go, it could take the user to one of several locations. Tonight’s first delivery was going to the Bronx.

He pressed a finger to the door, tracing in the sigils for the proper location across the worn wood slats. A soft click told him he’d done it properly, not that there was any doubt, and he gave the handle a twist. He stepped through to a small apartment in NYC, and closed the door behind him.

The apartments were always kept well furnished, made to look as though the occupant might have just stepped out for a few days, perhaps on vacation. Thankfully, the first delivery wasn’t going too far out of his way from the apartment, and with the help of his magically modified (and incredibly illegal) wristwatch, he was able to hop across the city in just a few short range teleports. Easy!

Making his way back to the apartment, he traced the next set of runes on the door, and was on his way to the next destination: A customer in downtown LA. A few more hops and he found himself one parcel lighter. All in all, it was shaping up to be a relatively calm evening. 

The last delivery was the weird glass orb, destined for New Orleans. This one wasn’t one of his favorites. He knew this customer from previous dealings. The stink of incense filled his senses as he walked into the shop, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim lighting.

“Evening, Mr. Boucher.” 

“Ahhh, if it ain’t my favorite delivery boy, how you doin’ tonigh’, Chrissi?” 

He flinched at the nickname. “Good as always, Mr. Boucher, got your delivery from the Underground,” he indicated his satchel.

“Ahhh! Good, good! I was afraid ol’ Nate might’a forgot lil’ ol’ me,” he laughed his wet, rattling laugh, like his lungs were half full of water.

“Of course not, Mr. Boucher. Mr. Owens always remembers his favorite clients.”

The hefty dark skinned creol gentleman heaved himself from his chair behind the counter and ambled out to meet Chris.

Chris pulled out the orb and held it out to him, careful to only touch it by the bindings.

“Thanks, Chrissi, you’re a good kid, yknow?” He chuckled, tousling Chris’ hair. 

“Thank you, Mr. Boucher. I appreciate your kind words.”

There was always a song and dance to working with him. You had to navigate what he said carefully.

“Got a delivery for you to make in return, Chrissi,” he said in his honeyed drawl. “Somethin’ in exchange for this little beauty,” he added.

“We don’t typically do exchanges, Mr. Boucher. I am sure that your payment to Mr. Owens was sufficient, or he wouldn’t have sent me with the delivery, sir.”

That was a misstep. 

“Now, listen, this here’s a gift, Christian,” Mr. Boucher said. “Surely Mr. Owens ain’t the sort to refuse a gift from a fellow businessman and long-time client, is he?” Mr. Boucher drew himself up to his full height, looming over Chris’s six foot two frame like he was half that.

Chris did his best to hold his ground. “No sir,” he said through a mask of professionalism acting as bravery. “Mr. Owens appreciates gifts, of course. I can certainly go back and ask him if he would be interested in your generous offering.”

“Now, Christian, you’re a smart young man. You know what might happen if you refuse to take this here gift back, right? You might cost your boss a very loyal customer, a great deal of money, and a great ally in the Louisiana market. You know he wouldn’t want that, don’tcha?” 

“Of course, sir,” he nodded.

“Riiight, you just go on ahead’n take this here trinket back to your master, an’ you tell him ol’ Boucher sends his regards.” He reached over and shoved one meaty arm into the satchel, depositing something within. 

Chris was silent for a moment, before smoothing out the wrinkles in his jacket and nodding. “Of course, Mr. Boucher. Thank you for your generosity.”

“You’re most welcome, Chrissi,” Mr. Boucher said, his presence no longer commanding a space twice what seemed reasonable for a normal man. “Y’all have a nice night now.” He shambled back to his seat and sat down, unfolding his newspaper again.

Chris beat a hasty retreat from the shop, a cold chill running down his back. A few teleports back to the apartment, and then through the door back to the shop, and he was still shaking.

“Holy shit, Chris. You look like hell,” Cay said as he stumbled in through the door.

“Yeah… Boucher. I messed up, had to come back with some kind of “surprise gift” that Nate isn’t expecting,” he mumbled.

“Fuck, I hate that guy… every time I go in to pick something up for the boss he gets all handsy… ‘Ahhh, Miss Rowe, what’s a beautiful young flowa’ like you doin’ all alone, maybe you’d like my company!” she said, mimicking his voice poorly.

Another shudder ran through him. “Yeah, glad I don’t have to deal with that, at least.”

“Better get back to talk to Nate about whatever surprise the old toad gave you,” Cay said, motioning at the door.

“Yeah. Hopefully it’s nothing too freakin’ creepy.”

“Not likely with Boucher,” Cay said.

“Nope. Not after the last thing he sent to the shop…”

“Good luck, Chris.”

“Thanks,” he headed past her and into the back hallway.

Nate looked up and smiled when he saw Chris enter his office. “My, Chris, you’re a bit late. I had begun to worry.” He smoothed a non-existent wrinkle in his suit jacket as he approached, looking Chris over.

“Sorry, yeah, Mr. Boucher held me up after I made his delivery. He insisted on me bringing a gift back for you.”

“We don’t normally accept gifts, Chris. You know that…”

“I do, but he was insistent. Thought he might hex me if I kept declining…”

“I see, well, let’s have a look at it…” Nate said, motioning at the satchel.

Chris reached in and pulled out a strange, lumpy bundle wrapped in canvas. He had just started to unveil it for Nate to inspect when a piece of the wrapping fell away just as he reached for it, resulting in his finger making contact with one of the object’s pale amethyst surfaces. A jolt ran through his body, and he suddenly felt very… distant. Cold.

‘...Oh… shit,’ he thought before everything faded away.