“You’re late.”

  I rolled my eye. “You would say that even if I wasn’t.”

  “Guess you’ll never know,” he responded, sipping his goo through a smile.

  “Hard to be on time when you change the schedule on a whim. And then attach it to a rat,” I mumbled.

  Vaarg grinned. “Must be hard being a minion.”

  “Vaarg, you’re a deeply loathsome creature, you know that?” I huffed, shuffling off to Aisle 3.

  Vaarg grinned wider.

  “That’s the beauty of it — I’ve never pretended to be anything I’m not. So you can’t act surprised.”

  The smugness oozing from behind his clipboard was nauseating.

  “I never said I was surprised, Vaarg. I just said you’re awful.”

  “Thank you,” he nodded.

  I rolled my eye.

  “Good work with the magic, by the way. A lot of people were watching — whether you know it or not. You didn’t disappoint.”

  I drew up short.

  A compliment? Really?

  “That book though. That’s going to be a problem,” he continued distractedly, shooing me off to my Aisle.

  If I clenched my jaw any tighter, I’d break something.

  Right at that moment, the door crashed open. My eye widened when I realized who it was.

  “Grif! How are —“

  I drew up short.

  “Grif?”

  His cloak was in tatters and the side of his head matted in blood.

  “Vaargus?” he choked, eyes unfocused.

  “Beeg, off to Aisle 1 with you. Get me a jar of soul pickles.”

  He turned and barked towards the other side of the store.

  “Itzemus!”

  I stumbled in surprise as Marlo and Matilda both bustled past me to take hold of Grif.

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  “Back room,” It directed, materializing from Aisle 6. I narrowed my eye in surprise.

  “Stupid, you take care of customers. Ugly, you good to watch?”

  It nodded, as if he got an answer. I looked around in bewilderment as Stupid windmilled out of an aisle, ears flapping.

  “Morning Beeg! We run the store today! Stupid is Assistant to the Assistant Manager after all!” she giggled, pulling her nametag out.

  What is even happening?

  “Beeg,” Vaarg grunted, hoisting himself down and following Grif towards the back. “Soul Pickles, please.”

  ____

  “What… is happening, Stupid?” I asked.

  Everyone had cleared out, and I was left with Stupid sitting behind the counter, doing her best impersonation of Vaarg.

  “Stupid is important today!” she chirped.

  I grinned.

  “You’re always important, Stupid. But I meant about Grif.”

  “Who Grif?” she asked, flopping her head to the side and knocking Vaarg’s mug off the counter, which gave me more satisfaction than it should have.

  “… The guy who came in earlier?” I prompted.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, clapping in excitement.

  I leaned forward.

  “Stupid doesn’t know!”

  I nearly fell over.

  “Only she can speak to the Warlock like that,” Sibil whispered down Aisle 2. “Imagine if we tried! He would threaten to clean!”

  “We would be finished,” Henrietta sobbed hysterically.

  “Did you see what he did with the soul pickles? So violent — they need to be handled with care!”

  “He dragged them out of the aisle like regular merchandise!”

  “He cannot be stopped!”

  “Would you two please stop that,” I sighed, adjusting my eyepatch to alleviate an itch.

  “He is going to stare at us with his Void Eye!” Sibil shrieked.

  “Stupid, I’m going to go clean Aisle 3,” I exhaled.

  “Ok Beeg! Beeg must do all chores! Oh, and Beeg is late!” she giggled, puffing out her chest and holding up a book like a clipboard.

  Upside down, mind you.

  Shaking my head, I turned to go. Maybe they had left the door open and I could catch a glimpse of what was going on.

  ____

  “Would you stop complaining and just eat the thing,” Vaarg huffed, stuffing the pickle into Grif’s mouth.

  My eye widened as I watched through the crack in the door. Before my eye, the cut on Grif’s head sealed over, leaving a nasty; but sealed, wound.

  Even some of the color returned to his skin.

  “Dunno how you do that,” Grif groaned, shrugging off what was left of his cloak.

  “I still have some ability,” Vaarg sighed. “What happened?”

  “It’s constant defense now, Vaarg,” Grif exhaled, seating himself on the floor so Matilda could sponge off some of the blood.

  “Your stunt a few months back bought us some much needed breathing room, but they get bolder by the day.”

  “Dung of Trolls, the lot of them!” Vaarg snapped. “How dare they — “

  Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by a fit of coughing.

  “Easy Vaarg,” Grif warned.

  “Don’t easy me,” Vaarg snarled between coughs.

  “Vaargus, slow down,” It monotoned.

  Vaarg froze.

  Then slumped.

  “Thanks, old friend,” he sighed.

  I watched as he conjured a mug of goo and sipped it gingerly.

  It nodded in approval.

  My eye narrowed.

  *What was going on?*

  “Where,” It continued, “and did the wards — “

  He stopped and sighed.

  “Marlo.”

  “Yes?”

  I watched in surprise as Marlo snapped to attention and *bowed* to It.

  What was this, some kind of inter-continental smuggling ring or something? Who *bowed* to an Assistant Manager?

  “I believe you left the door cracked. Please rectify this before we continue any further.”

  I hurried to move, but not before It turned and looked at me through the sliver of a crack I had claimed.

  The door clicked closed barely a second later.

  I stood, frozen, in the hallway.

  Surrounded by cursed items and a store with a mind of its own.

  A question bloomed in my mind, one I hadn’t felt the need to ask before.

  “Who are you all,” I whispered into the dark.