The Greed Ledger

Trainees are God’s way of humbling the accomplished, Caleb thought, as Thomas Charlemagne “Call-me-Charlie” Castille complained about the monotony of their surveillance detail. It made Caleb wonder why the younger man was pursuing a career as a warrior-priest at all, especially given his background of privilege.

Caleb knew the higher-ups weren’t above recruiting children of the highborn. The Order of the Temple of Solomon depended on their resources. Not money. But other, less tangible, things.

But he wasn’t sure the kid was going to cut it. Not unless his training officer beat some action-hero aspirations out of him.

“Come on, I know you’re not averse to a little action.”

Caleb sighed. When he wasn’t complaining, Charlie kept trying to glean more information about Caleb’s rookie days. “My file is redacted for a reason, Novice Castille. Clear?”

It was impossible to snap to attention in a midsize sedan, but Charlie tried. “Crystal, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Good.”

Charlie squinted at the passersby. “What is this chick into?”

After an untraceable $20,000 turned up in her bank account, Patricia Shea bought out every department store in a hundred-mile radius and started an aggressive climb up the social ladder. The money just kept coming, too.

Her good fortune seemed tied to a little black notebook she never let out of her sight. What it was, or how it worked, remained to be seen. But the Order suspected a deal with Hell, or at least some dark magic.

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “That’s why we’re here.”

“I know, sir. It’s just so boring.”

“You mentioned that.”

“Oh, hey, that’s her, isn’t it?” Charlie pointed.

Charlie had just picked their primary out of a considerable crowd of holiday shoppers headed into the mall. “Good eye.”

They climbed out of the car to weave their way through the throng.

“This place is crawling with casuals. You still have her?”

Caleb gestured. Her high-end wardrobe made her an easy mark. “She took off her coat.”

Charlie whistled. “Kinda makes me glad I haven’t taken my vows yet.”

Caleb faced him sharply. “Vows or no, she is not an object and doesn’t deserve your ugly lack of respect.”

“Um…”

“Get your head out of your pants and into the game or I will personally see to it that you never take Holy Orders. Understood?”

“I didn’t mean…”

“Do. You. Under. Stand.”

Charlie swallowed. “Yes, sir, Father-Corporal Saint Claire. Sir.”

Caleb moved back into the crowd. “There she is. Jewelry story. Focus up. This close to a subject, surveillance can turn into engagement real quick.”

“Yes, sir. I’m ready, sir.”

Caleb nodded, pausing long enough to slip on a pair of thick glasses. “Let’s go.”

A clerk held out a black velvet box out to. “Your necklace just arrived.”

Shea beamed as he revealed a cascade of diamonds set in platinum. She drew a neat black notebook from her bag and wrote something. With his enchanted glasses, Caleb saw the book and the bank card she passed the clerk glow red.

The Greed Ledger. One of the seven artifacts on the Order’s Most Wanted List. Apparently, any amount the owner wrote would appear in their account. For the low, low price of one immortal soul. It usually started after some demon hooked them with an initial windfall. That explained the twenty grand.

Caleb didn’t get as far as deciding between calling Retrieval and picking her up with only his inexperienced partner as backup before he was interrupted by a shrill, “Impossible!”

“I’m sorry. It’s saying insufficient funds.”

She scribbled in the notebook some more. “Call the bank!”

He did, then grabbed a pair of scissors.

“Don’t you dare!”

Snip.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The card fell onto the counter in two pieces.

She slapped the man across the face and stormed out.

Another clerk asked, “Should I call the police?”

“The bank already did. Something about her last deposit being counterfeit.”

Caleb and Charlie caught up to her shouting into the nearest payphone. “I don’t care! Tell your boss Romanman or however the fuck you say it, I want to talk to him!”

“Who’s Romanman?” Charlie asked quietly.

“Probably Ronoven. One of Hell’s nobles. Loves pissing off the Order by sending cursed artifacts to oddly deserving humans. Like her. We need to grab that ledger before … Shit.”

The cops had already arrived, unnoticed by Shea.

“Look, Aife, I can make your life--” The police interrupted her threat. “Get your hands off me! Pig!”

Even with size, training, and eventually pepper spray on their side, it took the cops several minutes to subdue her and herd her outside.

Caleb lifted the dangling phone in time to hear, “Patty! Patty, what’s going on?”

Caleb smiled. “Aife, I presume.” Silence. “Tell your boss Caleb Saint Claire sends his regards.”

When he hung up, he found Charlie on his elbow. “Come on, kid. Watch and learn. By that I mean keep your trap shut, okay?”

“Yessir,” Charlie affirmed, somewhat in awe.

∞∞∞

“You’re sure?”

“For the fourth time, Ben, yes. Caleb.”

He took a drink. “Saint Claire?”

She nodded. “He sounded dead serious. And he knows the name Hell gave you.”

“Great … What the hell happened anyway?”

“Little angel broke her contract, so the charm broke, too.”

“I know we pass these out to real assholes all the time, but usually I almost feel sorry for them. This chick was rotten from the get-go.”

“Unfortunately, the five-oh have the ledger.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I can handle the cops, but where the hell did Caleb come from?”

“Patty has a big mouth. She got spendy real fast, too. Those two together … Voila! An infestation of Knights.”

“Makes sense.” He took another drink. “Fucking Templars.”

“It’s one hell of a curse, boss.”

“Yeah. It’s one of my better ones.”

“The Order doesn’t like your toys, Ben.”

“They should. I only target the truly wicked.”

She laughed. “Oh, yes, Count Ronoven, you are truly doing the Lord’s work.”

“Fuck you, Aife.”

“If you play your cards right.”

“Haha.” He grinned. “Alright, I’m gonna retrieve the ledger. Tell our assets to lay low until I give the all-clear. Outside of me, nobody in your jurisdiction has the juice to face down Caleb.”

“I don’t think I’ll get any arguments.”

“You might want to maybe take a little vacation Below yourself.” Ben’s face split into a boyish grin. “Meet me at my place. I’ll have stories.”

“Stories? Why?”

“Because I’m gonna fuck with him.”

“Alright. I’ll keep your bed warm.”

He laughed. “You do that. Catch you later.”

∞∞∞

Despite how hastily created their Treasury Department covers were, it wasn’t difficult to extract their package from the locals. Caleb eased Patricia Shea into the car, grateful the enchantment on the cuffs kept her quiet.

A crowd passed him, and his charmed ring heated and grew heavy. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he climbed in on the driver’s side and quickly pulled into traffic.

“What now?” Charlie whispered.

“Even if she could hear through the spell, she won’t remember it anyway.”

Charlie’s eyes flashed. “Tell me that’s the only pair.”

Caleb flushed. He’d told Chatty Charlie he’d show him how to properly cuff a suspect a few nights ago. It got him his first decent night’s sleep of this assignment. “Sorry.”

“That’s not okay! I wasn’t…”

“I said I’m sorry. I’m not a saint. I needed some peace. I could use some now.”

“Okay, but I’m not the asshole here…”

“Quiet time. I have another pair in my jacket and I’m willing to use them right the hell now.”

Charlie seemed to understand he’d tried his superior’s patience. After a short while, he asked, “What’s going to happen to her?”

Caleb flipped on the wipers. “Where did this come from?”

“I don’t remember seeing snow in the forecast. This isn’t natural.” Charlie's eyes searched the darkness, suddenly nervous.

Caleb decided it wasn’t the time to worry his trainee. “Not much will happen to Shea. We’ll question her, give her a strong amnesiatic, and send her home, cleared of all charges.”

“That’s it?”

“I guess we could get out the thumbscrews if it would make you feel better, Castille, but she’s already made a deal with Hell. I doubt anything we could do is worse than eternal damnation.”

“I guess not.” Charlie shuddered. “This storm is really bad.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Eventually, after their vehicle nearly slid into the median after fishtailing wildly, Caleb gave up on making it to the safehouse and pulled into a motel. Despite the crowded lot, they still had vacancies.

When he returned from the office with a key, they got their wax-figure-docile prisoner out of the car. He gestured toward the stairs. “We’re in 267.”

Second floor wasn’t ideal, but Caleb’s ring charm assured him they hadn’t been followed by any demon, noble or otherwise. Maybe they could relax tonight. A little.

He felt bad about how far away they parked when he sent Charlie for their bags. Of course, he had to deal with the prisoner. Leading her toward the stairs with his coat draped over her shoulders, more to conceal the cuffs than to keep her warm, he was grateful for the cover of snow.

Charlie made another trip to the car while Caleb got the bewitched Ms. Shea settled in. When Charlie got back, Caleb handed him a cup of black coffee from the room’s grimy machine. “I checked the weather. Snow should pass by midnight.”

“I love a white Christmas,” Charlie said wistfully.

“Maybe wait to love it until we get to the safehouse and hand her off,” he grinned. “Now ward the door. You’ve got first watch.” He stretched out on the spare bed and conked out before Charlie’s coffee cooled.

Whether because of the enchanted cuffs, or because it came naturally, Shea slept peacefully while Caleb and Charlie divided the watches. By morning, the local news reported clear roads.

Caleb headed to the parking lot to get the car cleaned off so they could hit the road. He froze when it came into view.

The parking spot was cleared in a perfect, dry rectangle. The car itself was spotless, with a large red bow affixed to the trunk.

Caleb strode over. A note peeked out from under the ribbon. He plucked it out and began to read.

Dearest Caleb,

I’m sorry this simple missive must substitute for time face-to-face. I imagine the conversation would be sparkling. But we are men of action, and thus, unusually busy.

I haven’t met a sorcerer worth half a damn in centuries and I think you might even be worth three-quarters of one. The prospect led me to consider throwing caution to the wind and breaking your puppy’s wards. You should be more diligent in your teaching, old boy. Because ‘wards’ is a generous assessment. They’re more like a polite suggestion.

I thought it might be fun to make a grand entrance. We could have a few drinks … I could kill you for dragging me out in the freaking snow, get what I came for, and leave. But then I was like nah, getting all murdery sounds messy. Besides, I’m betting Tinkles the Wonder Dog (you again, Chuck) will come through. And boy, did he ever.

Left me a gift of your marked evidence packet right on the back seat. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was at his unrelenting thoughtfulness on my behalf this holiday season.

I’ll be sure to drop your Father-General a note of thanks.

Since I didn’t have time to get you anything, I cleaned off your car.

Merry Christmas,

Ronoven

“Son of a bitch!” Caleb almost slammed the hood with his fists but called on every ounce of his training to keep his temper in check just in case the demon was somehow watching. “Merry freaking Christmas.”

Charlie hollered from the railing, “What’s taking so long?”

“Be right there.” Under his breath, he snorted grudging laughter. “Tinkles.”