The Magic Spoon

Lindsey is a stage magician, at least he was.  Now, he’s starting to suspect he may be a conduit for infernal secrets, but hasn’t let himself think about that enough to be properly alarmed.  Before, he was a proper sort, if somewhat scattered.    And sometimes he is that again, if he leaves his jacket (and what’s in his jacket pocket) on the train.   Of course, his jacket pocket always finds its way back to him, sooner or later.

—

You’ll see Valentine skulking in shadows, or perhaps as a dark shape moving between drops of rain at night.  He doesn’t show himself much, trusting whispered secrets in sleeping ears to achieve his purposes.  But soon, soon.  Soon you’ll see Valentine walking down the Evil Quarter Mile, without a care in the world again.  Wise men would caution not to meet his eye.

—

Redjack Ryan is missing a tooth.  A canine.  The left one. Or was it the right?  Doesn’t matter, what matters are the stories of how and why and what happened after.   The stories are important, are fascinating, give the lie to anything that might be hidden by that grin.

—

Watches must be wound just right.  Not enough, and they won’t keep time.  Too much, and their tightness weakens the springs. Or at least that’s what J.Q. Fiddich thinks, when he winds his ornate watch every night.  It has many functions (stars, calender, compass…), but never does seem to set exactly to the time on the high church tower.  He thinks this might be a metaphor for life, and keeps his watch well polished just in case.