Chapter 9

Pastor Bob

Pastor Bob’s heartburn was getting worse. Sweet Mother, how he hated this realm’s cuisine. He parked the school bus in front of the Fremont Library, a block from the portal into Old Town’s Northmarket. The memory of the streets and byways of Oldtown was a bittersweet ache. This day marked the twentieth anniversary of his banishment. Under his elaborate disguise, Pastor Bob was a half-blood Asari thief and con artist named Half Ear.

He was feeling skittish because this leg of the trip carried the most risk. His long life had impressed on him that taking risks of any sort eventually leads to misfortune. Now, because of his mother-damned sister L’eena’s whim, he was stuck driving in daylight down a major street in the middle of Van Horn Coven territory. Plus, he had to wait around to get a delivery of Fairy’s Tears for the wolves from his sister in Oldtown. He’d argued and argued for a different location, but L’eena had been adamant. According to her, the plan and the people were set. He calmed himself with the thought that while the risk was great, the reward made it worthwhile. This lot of slaves had extreme value. The creole woman had assured him they were of high talent.

One in ten thousand humans had the ability to gather magic; one in a hundred thousand had high talent for working it.

Pastor Bob himself had a healthy fear of magic and beings who used magic. His half-blood father had some minor talent, but the only thing the bastard had given him was a deformed ear. He shivered again. For all he knew, even as he waited here, the children in the motor home were sending off magical vibrations to attract a legion of vengeful witches from the Van Horn Coven to come and end him.