Chapter 29: You Wanna Buy a Used Dark Artifact?

The wyvern equivalent of an Amway salesman is sitting, like most salespeople, at the resort's bar. The swim-up bar, better yet. His bulk perched on an overly large stool, he's sipping something fruity and alcoholic through a big straw. I swim up next to him. On the bar, his case is open.

And he's still in a mood, despite the legitimate medical emergency that delayed this sales call. I didn't know dragons could be so uptight, but wyverns are rumored to be bad-tempered, not to mention they have poison breath. Maybe he took a magical breath mint but kept the foul temper.

"That better not be a case that has fantastic beasts inside it when I fall into it," I say.

He snorts smoke. "What are you talking about?"

I try to joke with him to break the ice. "You're from England and you don't know every Harry Potter reference?"

He spits flame at me. "NO. HARRY. POTTER. EVER."

Okay, I've clearly touched a nerve. "Got it. Now, what do you have for me?'

He sips his drink in brooding silence. I had no idea Harry Potter would cause a dragon to freak out. I better not bring up "Game of Thrones".

"Look, I'm sorry," I say gently.

Snorting smoke that makes me gag worse than a cigar bar, he says, "Are you interested in what I have to show you or not?"

"All ears."

The light gleams on his scales, making them look fearsome and handsome. "Good. Because I don't appreciate people wasting my time. The older a dragon gets, the less patience we have for mortals just frittering away—"

"Show me, d*mn it."

He pulls out a disc with the Eye of Horus on it. It looks ancient, not like some trinket they sell to tourists in Cairo. "This is powerful."

"What is it?"

Smoke wreaths his head. "Well, it isn't just a pretty trinket, and it'll cost you a pretty penny, as you humans say."

Before I decided to belly up to the bar with a cranky wyvern, I checked the inn's budget and noticed line items that didn't make sense before I realized the truth. Daji explained the budget to me.

THE WENDIGO INN BUDGET

Staff salaries and benefits: $200,000 per month Maintenance and repairs: $50,000 per month Security and surveillance: $15,000 per month Food and beverages: $50,000 per month Marketing and advertising: $20,000 per month Concierge services and special requests: $10,000 per month Guest entertainment and events: $30,000 per month Insurance and legal fees: $10,000 per month Miscellaneous expenses: $10,000 per month Magical Items: $30,000 per month

Total Expenses Per Month: $425,000 

Income:

Room rentals: $300,000 per month Restaurant and bar sales: $100,000 per month Gifts and donations: $10,000 per month Special services and experiences (e.g. tours, lessons, etc.): $20,000 per month Merchandise sales: $40,000 per month Miscellaneous income: $15,000 per month

Total Income Per Month: $485,000 

A small profit every month. I want to increase that profit, and certainly paying for overpriced items doesn't appeal to me.

"How much are we talking?" I ask. "And is that trinket worth it?"

The remark about Harry Potter got his tail in a twist, but he shrugs off the insult to his wares. Talk about having a thick skin. This dragon's scales are probably made of Kryptonite. But if quoting Harry Potter set him off, no way I'm risking a Superman reference. I do want to make the sale and keep from getting barbecued.

"This 'trinket' channels the power of Horus and will make your security systems invincible," he says. "Hold it in your hands."

Curious, I grip the shiny gold disc and feel its coolness to the touch.

"Now, picture any location in this resort," says the wyvern, whose name I don't know.

"Ah…sure. Whatever your name is."

He gives me a toothy grin. "Your grandparents called me Scales."

His beady-eyed glare says I'm not granted that privilege.

"But my real name is Rokaci," he adds.

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Now, concentrate."

I concentrate on the front desk, pressing the sides of the disc with my fingers.

The eye rotates, then opens, revealing a small orb that shows the front desk, where Erlang checks in a group of djinn. Shady and unpleasant-looking ones. These don't resemble Robin Williams' wisecracking genie from the original animated masterpiece "Aladdin," or the one played by Will Smith (before he hit Chris Rock at the Oscars) in the live-action remake. These djinn look like they don't hang around in lamps waiting to grant three wishes.

No wonder Daji said she had dealt with Erlang Shen. She probably made him work the front desk as punishment, mild compared to Sun Wukong being imprisoned in a crucible.

As I watch, the djinn give Erlang a rough time, demanding special treatment, such as rooms to float around, I can't help thinking he deserves this.

I touch the disc again and the eye revolves shut. "Impressive," I murmur. "No wonder Egypt built an empire. And aliens didn't build the pyramids, did they?"

Rokaci snorts a plume of smoke. With mythical creatures and gods around, "No Smoking" signs aren't a thing here. "Maybe your Egyptians had some help … Ra, Osiris, Isis, Bastet, Geb, Nut, Hathor … but yes, you all built those marvels, just like you did St. Michael's Tower. Well, not you personally …"

"Maybe my family did if this inn is as old as I think. So, how much are you asking for this?"

"Thirty thousand dollars."

My jaw drops.

That's our entire monthly budget for the collection.

"It's really worth that?"

His beady eyes burn, a prelude to him setting the place on fire. "Are you questioning my integrity, HUMAN?"

"First, I'm the mate of a fox spirit, and second, I'm nearly immortal because of Amrita," I snap. "And third, I'm aware that this disc is probably priceless, but—"

"Exactly. Priceless beyond your imagining. Do you know how many world leaders and other power players would sell their own mothers to get this? And yet, I'm giving it to you … cheap. I'm giving it away at this price."

He's got a point. He's practically giving me power that the surveillance state would kill for, and that conspiracy theorists would wet themselves just hearing about it. Me.

"You trust me that much?"

He orders another drink and sucks on his straw. "These fruity concoctions are some of your best human inventions. Yes, I trust you. You just realized you inherited the playground of the gods, and what do you do? Babysit Sun Wukong when he nearly gets his brains bashed in. Again. This isn't the first time. You let Daji boss you around."

He's got a point. "I'm no beta male." I assert.

"Of course not! Why is everything with you modern humans an identity thing? My identify this, my truth that. Truth is truth."

This wyvern is a curmudgeon, but I say dryly, "Blame my generation."

"It goes deeper than that."

Okay, he's a conspiracy theorist. But he's also a magical creature who might be centuries old. "Explain."

"There are people in this world who don't want humans to believe in something bigger than themselves," Rokaci explains. "That's why this inn is one of the best things ever. Gods can recuperate here from all the damage you people do to yourselves and the planet in the name of politics, ambition, so-called religion—"

"Look, if you're going to tell me the human race is screwed up, I believe it." I dare to rest my hand on his scaly forearm. It feels smooth to the touch, like a leather bag. He wears a dapper vest with brocade trim.

A fashionable dragon. Who would have guessed?

I continue. "But they can't get in here. These shadowy figures, the kind you read about on the internet, they can't touch the Wendigo Inn."

He grips my arm, his claws digging into my biceps, not hard enough to break the skin. "That's why you need the Disc of Horus. To make sure you protect this place at all costs."

Okay, it sounds paranoid, but in no time, I'm forking over the monthly budget for artifacts.

Pleased, Rokaci smiles. "I'll tell you what I'll do, because I like you. I'll throw in an additional three artifacts of your choice. Like in my infomercial."

"You have an infomercial?"

He clears his throat and adopts an infomercial spokesperson voice. "Hi! My name is Rokaci. Artifact peddler to the gods. I'm going to offer you this Disc of Horus, which will render even the mightiest god invincible and allow a deity to see everything around him or her. Even from underground. I'm talking to you, Hades."

I laugh despite myself. Rokaci grins. "He'll pop up, literally. He'll take the underground and come in through your basement. You've been warned. May I continue?"

"Please."

He proceeds to explain the features and benefits of the artifact he's just sold me, then rummages in his case and pulls out three artifacts. A small statue of Poseidon, which looks suspiciously like the god's avatar, Waverly Leviathan. An African drum. A Celtic knot that looks like one of those mobiles that spin and create different patterns every time they do. It rotates as I move it.

Inside the case, however, I see a solid glass black skull. I nod at it. "Is that part of the deal?"

Rokaci snaps his case shut and bares his fangs. They're long and sharp and they could cut the door of a 757. "I'd rather have you discuss Harry Potter than touch that cursed thing. NEVER touch it. Promise me."

"Why?"

"I was going to give you a discount for being so nice … but forget it! I have to be in Xanadu in ten minutes. Enjoy your Disc of Horus!"

He glides across the pool like a seaplane, flaps his wings, and launches into the sky with the help of fluid dynamics and magic.

I stare after him, wondering if my life is going to get any crazier.