#umbracatta

Inspector Rouen Tarrow of Saesneg Special Agency of Llundain, or SSA, walked down Umbracatta street cautiously. He had never been one for fairy tales, but the horror stories that he had heard so many times from the insane police officers that had been rescued from only a few miles of this area, each mangled and distorted, chilled his very bones. It was all horrifying, yes… very much indeed, but it only fueled his insatiable curiosity for new things. So on he walked, feeling the sting of his tired feet and ignoring it quite comfortably, a ten-mile walk was nothing. The street was gloomy he could give its creepiness attribute to that, but it was not something that would send him crawling back.

The place he was headed for was set out on a long strip of concrete, a flat and triangular little place that looked smaller from his approaching angel than he would have thought it to be. A worn sign swung soundlessly from above the door that was once painted black but was now peeling and moldy. Rouen stopped in front of the door, looking up at its overall appearance from under the brim of his black pinstripe fedora. He had to admit, it looked almost charming.

The door was a long glass panel covered with sun-washed stickers and posters along the edges, leaving the middle a smudgy piece of scraggly glass with a frame of pealing black painted wood. An old brass envelope door was tucked under the window and looked rather unused for a place with so much reputation of underground correspondence. Most definitely far too much character that anyone bookshop he'd entered in his twenty years. Rouen took a step forward, under the old threadbare awning and pressed his hand to the window to look inside the dark room. There was a long hallway covered shelf to shelf with all sorts of books. From his distance, he could make out titles on occult, magic, and demon summoning, all which were banned in the Cubus Act of 2133. The rest seemed to be the odds and ends of spell-casting demons.

Rouen straitened himself up and pushed open the door. An old bell clanged as the door opened, making Rouen feel a chill run down his back, but he stately ignored it. He turned instinctively to the desk half hidden with books that reached to the ceiling, with odds and ends sticking out every which way. A few old photos of a happy young couple were pasted to the bookshelves' exposed edges. Rouen to a step forward to look closer at the images, the woman appeared more often than the man, so Rouen was left to suppose that it was the shopkeeper’s daughter, naturally.

“Welcome, govna'. What may we do for you, 'ere at Umbracatta.” An elder woman popped up from behind the counter, a happy innocent smiles her accent distinctly Earthian anglium. The woman looked disheveled, like waking up from a brief unplanned nap, the wispy white hair escaping her unkempt bun and falling like spiderwebs about her head, her glasses cocked at an odd angle and her tattered shawl draped over one shoulder. “Is there something you need, young man?”

Rouen returned the smile with his trademark devilish grin, planning to flatter her, he knew when little tricks like that might come in handy. “Why, yes. I’m looking for artificial and mechanical life, A.I., if you will.” Rouen leaned suggestively against the counter and looked down at the old woman.

the shopkeeper gave a throaty chuckle. “Ohh, you n'ughty boy, you. What would chr' mum t'ink?” the woman hobbled out from behind the counter and over to a curiously unoccupied shelf. Her old cracked hands picked up a small silver bell and rang it twice.

At this point Rouen had already taken in that she had a weathered face, a scar on her lower lip, and sunken eyes, understanding that it meant she did a lot of reading and was once hurt by her occult practices. Her hands were cracked and stained black between cracks exposing that she did not have all day to sit about and read but she did hard work. This was reinforced by fresh scabs along her knuckles. Lastly, about her hands she wore cloth armlet around her wrist that bulged slightly, revealing her practices of dark magic with blood sacrifice as her own. This woman was deep in her dark arts Rouen confirmed.

Rouen pretended to watch the woman with anxiousness, but he kept his calm trained stance ready, though he looked to be casually lounging against the desk. He scanned more book titles from his angle, reading off random titles such as Awakening the Dead, A Once in a Lifetime Experience by Jeraman Jacobs. , Toads of the Twelve Quadrants and Their Uses in the Darker Arts by Suliman P. Whitaker, and Madusa Featherstone's Guide to Unnatural Beauty by Madusa Featherstone and Philip Kay.

There was a sudden collapse of books behind Rouen that made him jump in spite of himself. He looked down as a could of dust rose up off the pile of dislodged books, he happily noticed that sprouting out of the pile was an arrangement of arms and legs. Rouen sprang to attention and began digging through the books to clear a path for the clobbered person. A new unknown he would know in only a few seconds.

"Janessa!" The old hag screeched as Rouen uncover a beautiful pale face. She looked like a porcelain doll, wide brown eyes framed by lashes and a sweet bow-shaped mouth the color of a strawberry malt framed by a boyish haircut of growing out white-blond hair. She looked shocked, mostly frightened that Rouen was trying to help her up and that she ruined her beloved books.

Rouen decided that this Janessa must be the daughter of the woman in the photographs earlier. She had the same pale complexion and doll-like face. This little girl clearly was not a bookworm either. Both frauds, Rouen rutted silently. He distinguished this by the boyish cut of her hair and the similar armlets mostly hidden under her dark jacket. She too had freshly pink knuckles that were in need of bandages by not immediately. So Rouen deduced that she must be related to the shopkeeper. Most likely… grandmother.

"I'm sorry grandmum." Jenessa said automatically, still in a state of repulsion at her mistake. Rouen was inwardly smug at his correct assumption. The girl seemed to clutch on Rouen's arm in a daze of shock. Rouen was thoroughly enthralled by how much he did not know about this new person. This was like describing a feast to a starving man for him. It had been three weeks since he'd had this much fun.

"May I help you, Miss Janessa?" Rouen offered, eagerly awaiting her reaction to him in his abrupt and nonexistent introduction. Rouen had a reputation as a bit of a ladies man and could not help but to offer his assistance to such a sweet girl, even though she may be too young for his usual tactic of female charming.

The girl Janessa turned her head slowly to look at him and didn't start or push away from his hold. She merely stared back at Rouen. He was dumbstruck, he didn't know what to do next. Janessa had him at a crossroad, and she wouldn't give so neither would Rouen.

"Young man, kindly tike your 'ands off me granddaughter." The shopkeeper thumped a large stick on the floor that Rouen had not previously noticed. At a glance, he could see carved runes of a which embedded in the wood, highlighted by the light from the door window.

It was Janessa who let go first, diligently attending to the books that she had strewn across the floor. Rouen stood patiently and watched her. Her reaction absolutely fascinated him.

"Janessa we 'ave a valuable customer and 'e means to buy from us. Leave 'em and go find the A.I. Section if you will." The grandmother shopkeeper thumped the threatening knarled stick again and Janessa gave her a brief defiant look before hopping over the pile of books. This did not go without Rouen's notice where he was left to wonder about the two women's quarrel, though he had learned a valuable lesson not to ask openly.

"This way, sir." She said without looking back, her pale form moving deeper into the many shelves and piles of books. Rouen led at the shopkeeper and she gave him a strangely encouraging nod to follow. Rouen did, and the darkness of the many shelves enveloped him. There were only brief glances of light as Janessa led him further, a glimpse of a foggy street where bookshelves covered the windows, and an orangish fluorescent light every yard fastened to the ceiling.

"How old are you, Janessa? Much too young to be working in a dusty old bookshop, you should be at school." Raouen said with parent-like concern.

"I'm eleven and a half and I homeschool. I learn all I want to learn and grandmum teaches me the rest." She replied smoothly.

"So, your grandmother," Rouen said to Janessa's back, hoping to start a conversation, learn a small detail. But she merely confirmed it with a glance over her shoulder and a nod of her head. Rouen pursed his lips, he was insanely intrigued by the prospect of this case. He'd experienced such tightness only from his mother and two informants he kleptomania close at hand, plus it was strange from a child her age. "Is she…" they turned a corner, allowing Rouen to ask another well thought question. "Is she the father's mother or mother's?"

"Mum's side." She replied without looking back this time.

Rouen smirked. She'd slipped with her careful words slightly, she'd grown up with her grandmother most likely. "How long have you been living with your grandmother?"

"Long." She said. Janessa paused to look at the titles on one side of a shelf, and then the other. Janessa defied to follow her first choice and proceeded down the shelved space. Almost lovingly, her fingers ran along the spines of the books as she trailed deeper. Then Janessa abruptly stopped. She pointed to the yard wide shelves stretching from floor to ceiling. "Here."

Rouen smiled and tipped his hat to her. "Thank you, … Janessa." though he focused his attention to the books, his eyes followed her small form running to the opposite side of the hall, poking her head around and then quietly walking toward him again.

"Sir, don't move or look at me. Cameras are watching us. Just listen to me." Her voice cut through the air though it was merely a whisper. This thickened his problem, what a lucky day for him.

Rouen pretended to peruse the books and look confused as if he could not find the very book he had so needed. "I'm listening." Rouen managed to say

"You need to leave. Now. Say you left the name of the title at home. You need to go." Janessa's voice was calm. It did not plead or whimper as it should. But this Janessa of Umbracatta seemed to be a very seasoned and defiant child.

"I will. On one condition." Rouen said with vaniloquent skill. His face became even more perplexed as his well-sought title became lost to him completely.

"There is no condition. Staying long here will mean your death." Janessa spoke harsh words but her childlike voice still remained monotone and unemotional.

"That does not concern me at the moment. Facing death is nothing new,…" Rouen continued to frown at the books before him, taking a step back to look at them. "I will leave if you shall allow me the convenience of a meeting. Anywhere you like, and answer twenty questions."

"The Gilded Bird," she said as he turned to look at her, his face a mask of disappointed inquiry. "Be there at eight. Ask for Miss La Prucelle." With that, she started her path back to the front door through the endless maze of books. Rouen followed her obligingly, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. When they arrived at the desk and the entrance, the old shopkeeper was strangely, no longer in sight.

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you, I will return for my book at another time." Inspector Tarrow said with a curt nod and an unhappy glance at Janessa before stepping out back onto Umbracatta street.

Rouen shoved his hands into his khaki raincoat pockets with a smug smile speed across his face. He slid off to a side street and ran toward an old fire escape and scrambled up the rusty metal ladder and climbed carefully up it. He pulled himself up and rolled across the flat roof, getting up and crawling over to the roof edge. The long bookshop stood seemingly smooshed under a dark planked building above it, seemingly the lodging for the family below. Rouen reached under his coat and pulled out an extendable spyglass from his carefully engineered leather belt. He opened it and put the smaller end to his eye. He saw the door, the ugly black sign, and the windows were unfortunately covered in books. Rouen closed the spyglass with an irritated frown.