The “Bear’s Den,” or officially “11th Street Station” was a hub for several lines and normally packed with crowds of commuters switching trains, but at this time on Founding Day, it was the slowest one could possibly see it. That meant all the mosiacs of Giusseppe “the Bear” Bruno, an early New Carissimi settler, confronting an aggressive bear were in full view.

Igraine had never seen them without being obstructed by rushing commuters trying to make their transfer.

The mosaics were a tactful protest against renaming Bruno Boulevard to 11th Street in the 1920s when all the through streets were renamed to numbers. They also inspired citizens to take matters into their own hands and sticker over any signs labeled 11th Street.

No one I know called the street by either name. Most won’t acknowledge it or refer to it by any other name than “Bear Boulevard” and the subway station by Library Market Square as “the Bear’s Den.”

“Oh honey, don’t look too long at those murals,” Dolly said to Igraine. “You’ll wind up like Viktor convinced there’s a ghost of a bear walking the subway tunnels.”

“Wait, that’s not an urban legend?”

“Viktor has a bad habit of chasing things that don’t lead anywhere. That’s what I’m trying to keep you from doing.”

Then she started walking at a pace that lacked the frantic energy earlier. “C’mon now.”

Igraine wondered if the rush had really been to catch the train, but those ran every few minutes. Unless it was different on Founding Day?

They ascended the stairs and returned to the humidity of the day. It was a bit more tolerable with the breeze rolling off from the bay.

Library Market Square is the most aptly named space in the city. It’s a large public market that lives in the shadow of the city’s massive public library.

It was a sight that demanded attention, and Igraine obliged.

“Stop looking like a tourist,” Dolly said.

“What?”

“I need you to focus. We’re going to cut through the market and go to a stand on the outskirts. No stopping for knickknacks, trinkets, souvenirs, or postcards. Got it?”

“Yes.”

This is a tall order for everyone since the market grew out of a Hooverville, and several attempts to regulate the space were always met with resistance. It has remained a crowded, unorganized nest of tents, tables, and shoddy construction. The offer made by the city to the vendors was, “Be strange and safe enough to bring in tourists and we won’t force you to operate your businesses under the regular license,” and the merchants happily accepted.

Dolly stood still and was scanning for the best route to traverse the market.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I just need to get my bearings.”

“It’s Library Market Square, it’s kinda the only thing here.”

“Shh,” Dolly snapped. “Mama needs to think. I’m not used to seeing it with so few people.”

It is well-known that the market is deserted on Founding Day. A few stands and shops stay open, but most take off to partake in or avoid the citywide celebration.

“Well, which way do we go?”

“Shh. It’s been a while.”

“What do you mean? Don’t you need to pay on a regular basis?”

“Of course I do… just not lately.”

“You aren’t current?”

Dolly spoke through a clenched jaw. “I had enough to make me current this morning.”

“So wait, your plan is to walk up and demand the person you owe money to beat up the person who took the money you were going to pay him with.”

“That sounds better than what I was planning.” And she stepped off on a brisk walk toward the market.

Igraine was once again chasing after her. “Hold on, what were you planning?”

“I was considering a variety of options. The most appealing was causing a public stir and threatening to call the health department on him.”

There was a lot for Igraine to unpack, and she started with, “But there really isn’t anyone here. The place is dead. Kinda defeats the point of a public scene.”

“Just one of the two reasons why I liked your plan better.”

“What was the other reason?”

“It didn’t work the last time I tried it,” said Dolly as she jaywalked across the street.

Dolly’s contact was the proprietor of a tiny butcher shop just across the street on the far side of the market. His legitimate business was to supply meat to the unlicensed food vendors in the public market, and since he was not in the market, his product and storefront had to be kept up to health codes. It was well-known that if someone wanted to sell food in the market they had to buy from the Butcher, whether their stand sold hamburgers or fruit smoothies. Some portion of every transaction involving food in the market went to the Butcher.

It sounds unusual at first, but it makes more sense that he was brought in by the other vendors to enforce an unofficial health code after there was a food poisoning scare that almost forced the city government to break the original deal and shut down the entire market.

Dolly weaved her way in and out of the aisles of the market. The rule of thumb for navigating it is that if you find yourself in a straight aisle, you are headed for a dead end. The most direct path through the market is a curvy one.

They were only a few feet from exiting when Dolly stopped.

One of the struggles of being so close to the paranormal is figuring out how much to tell someone. There’s a point at which if someone learns too much, they stop listening. Which puts them in the worst position possible: knowing too little. Because a person who knows too little in this world is a hazard to themselves and others.

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“There’s something else you should know about where we’re going.”

Igraine ventured, “Is this place going to be dangerous?”

“That goes without saying. But it’s dangerous in a way that you aren’t used to.”

“Magic?”

Dolly nodded.

“The Butcher is what’s known as a ‘gazer.’ When he wants to, he can cast his gaze on a person and have a more threatening influence over them.”

“He can force people to act against their will?”

“Only under certain conditions. But don’t worry. I’m told he’s one of the good ones.”

Igraine was doubting whether she wanted to follow her in now.

Dolly added, “I’ve never had a problem with him, because I know the three ways to limit the effects of his power.”

Igraine guessed, “Deny, deny, and deny?”

Dolly shook her head. “Cute, but no. First, if you are out of his line of sight, he can’t use his ability. Second, his ability is ineffective on anyone making eye contact with him. Under no circumstance should you take your eyes off of him.”

Igraine nodded, and then Dolly marched out of the market.

“Wait, what’s the third thing?”

“Simple. Don’t say or do anything to upset him.”

Igraine wondered if Dolly had ever once followed her own advice.

Dolly swung the door open. Just like at Bunny’s Café, Dolly used an abundance of force on the door that the bell above it rang a warning to everyone else in the shop instead of a gentle chime. And again Dolly stood still in the doorway so everyone in the tiny shop with a maximum capacity of ten customers could see that she was the one who made the ruckus.

On this day, there was one person eating a sandwich at one of the three tables. Once he turned his attention to Dolly, she entered the deli, and Igraine followed her in.

The Butcher had been sitting behind a raised counter display of deli meats, reading the newspaper, but stood up as Dolly approached. The elevated platform behind the counter forced Igraine to look up at him.

Like all butchers, he wore an apron that had once been white and now had blotches of pink stains on it from the more gruesome parts of his work.

He spoke first with an accent Igraine couldn’t place. “Miss Dolly, I am surprised to see you.”

“I ran into some trouble,” Dolly said ignoring the greeting.

The Butcher wiped his hands, but Igraine noted they didn’t appear to be dirty.

“What kind of trouble?”

“The kind you’re supposed to protect me from.”

“You want me to talk to someone? Make them forget you?”

“That's what I’m paying you for, isn’t it?”

Igraine questioned Dolly’s confrontational methods to herself. Was it smart to pick a fight with a person who had a magical ability?

A customer walked in, and Igraine instinctively turned to toward the sound of the bell above the entrance.

The Butcher yelled, “Closed.” At the sound of his voice, Igraine forgot how to breathe and if she stayed where she was, she wouldn’t last long. It was like she was about to drown, and leaving the shop would be like getting to the surface.

The customer who came in quickly ran out, and Igraine was set to follow, but Dolly grabbed her shoulder to pull her back without taking her eyes off the Butcher.

By the time Igraine recalled what Dolly had said about the Butcher and the risks of not keeping her eyes directed at him, she saw the man who had been eating his sandwich leaving, still holding the half-eaten meal.

The Butcher continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “But, Miss Dolly, you haven’t paid me in quite some time. I was getting worried my reminders would need to become more assertive.”

“I swear, I had all your money this morning, but I was robbed by someone from the Brotherhood of Ever Loving Truth, or whatever it’s called.”

“You know the one who shook you down? The one who took my money.”

“I do.”

“Well, I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me their name.”

“I want to know you’re going to do something about it.”

“I’ll take care of it, just tell me the name.”

“Burton Maurer.”

There was a flash of recognition on the Butcher’s face.

“I changed my mind, I won’t get involved.”

“What have I been paying you for?”

“Protection, and up until now I’ve done a good job. But if I fix this for you, you won't be able to afford me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s like when you have a claim on your car insurance. The rates go up. Get into a little fender bender, rates go up a little. Wreck two cars while totaling yours, the rate goes up a lot. Same thing for your butcher. You need your butcher to solve a problem, then butcher's price goes up. And Burton Maurer is a bigger problem than he used to be.”

Igraine recognized the signs of a window of opportunity closing. The Butcher had already said “no,” but in a few moments the answer would be “never.” Igraine decided to play it fast and dumb.

She blurted out, “Are we talking about meat, or magic?”

This attracted Dolly’s attention and the Butcher’s. It was clear she had missed something in the conversation.

“Or insurance?”

The Butcher asks, “Who is this one?”

“She’s a new client.”

“This is not a place to bring your clients.”

“She’s a new kind of client.”

The Butcher scrutinized them for a tense moment before changing the subject. “Rumor is Burton's gone rogue.”

Igraine took this to mean that her silly question had worked.

“Joined another group?”

“Left them altogether. He’s targeting people on his own.”

“That sounds like he’s asking for trouble. Wouldn’t his former group force him to stop? After all, he’s sheering their sheep and keeping the sweaters.”

“They’re afraid of him for some reason. Sounds like they’re keeping their distance for now. I think he’s holding on to some important information that they don’t want to get out. But you’re right. Eventually they’ll stop him. The real question is, why aren’t any of the magic user groups intervening. And that suggests he has dirt on them too.”

Dolly asked, “How’d he get dirt on both sides?”

“Don’t know. Don’t want to know. What I do know is that he’s got enemies on both sides. And both sides see it best to leave him alone. Man is untouchable. It is only a temporary status. One side will find a way to deal with him that is permanent.”

There was no subtlety to his meaning. Burton would be murdered, and Igraine didn’t like the fact that she felt relieved that he would be. But she couldn’t bring herself to feel any other way.

Igraine interjected, “Dolly, what’s this guy going to do about it? Doesn't he owe you protection?”

“As much as I don’t want harm to come to Miss Dolly, I'm not throwing myself into whatever Burton is in the middle of. The fool has signed his own death warrant, and I have no interest in signing mine.”

Igraine continued, “There must be something you can do.”

“A person who knows too much will almost always need help forgetting. Miss Dolly wants to get back into good standing? Make the man forget. Then all sides happy clams.”

The two women stood still and silent. Trying to look for an exit for the impossible task ahead of them.

“I have a ring I can loan you. Whoever wears it can be convinced to forget something or someone.”

Dolly leapt at the hint of an offer. “Perfect, we'll take it.”

Igraine objected, “Wait, how much convincing is needed?”

“It’s easier if the person is willing, but it also depends on how much needs to be forgotten. Sometimes, it can lead to partial memories.”

Igraine asked, “And if he is unwilling?”

The Butcher held a grim look. “You remind him of the risks he takes with the memories he has.”

Dolly spoke up again, “Like I said before, We’ll take it.”

“Not so fast. I am the steward of this magical item, and I do not take my responsibility lightly. I am giving you a dangerous thing for exactly one purpose I have deemed appropriate.”

“Ok, we’ll only use it on Burton.”

“And how will you be paying me for this favor? You don’t have any money.”

“You’ll get what you were owed to begin with.”

“That goes without saying.”

Igraine tossed out, “She’ll give you an IOU.”

Dolly did not like the idea. “I’ll pay the next time I get my commission on my clients.”

“What about Viktor?” Igraine asked.

The Butcher laughed heartily. “What's he going to give me?”

Dolly asked Igraine, “And why would he do it for me?”

The Butcher laughed again. “Don’t be so self-centered Dolly. He wouldn’t do it for you, but maybe for your ‘new client.’”

Igraine asked, “Is there anything you need investigated?”

Dolly said in her southern accent, “Honey, investigations aren’t like back rubs. Most people don't want one.”

The Butcher corrected her again, “No. There is something I would like to know more about, and maybe Viktor could be helpful.”

Dolly rolled her eyes. “If he agrees to it.”

“He has no choice in the matter now.”

Igraine went to pull out a notebook. “Hold on, let me take down some notes. What is it you want him to look into?”

“No. I will speak no more of it. Only to Viktor.”