Karla continued to fidget beside him, the ghost hovering over the seat since couldn’t truly interact with it. She’d gotten over the shock pretty quickly. Luizitine still watched the counterwoman. She’d returned to writing, eyes focusing on the papers arranged in front of her. She barely paid either of them any mind.

Who is she? A witch? An angel? A second wizard? Is such a thing possible?

In the thousands of lives he'd lived, he'd never encountered anyone on the same level as his sworn enemy. It was their pact, after all. As long as one existed, the other would rise to challenge them. But this woman was different. Even if they shared similar holy magic, to say they were the same was akin to saying grapes were oranges. Just as they both were fruits of a different caliber, so too could he sense the woman's abilities didn't quite match the wizard's. Whether it packed the same punch, though...

A buzzer sounded from behind the counter. The woman looked up, her smile returning as she brushed her hair aside.

“Ah. He’s ready for you.”

Karla floated up. “About friggin’ time.”

“Apologies for the wait, miss. The Mayor was in the middle of a meeting when you showed up." The woman gestured behind her. "You’ll find him in the room on the far side of the hall. Look for the silver plague. You'll know it when you see it.”

Karla nodded, flying on ahead. She slowed down when she noticed Luizitine lingering in his seat.

Nothing about the affair felt natural. The Mayor having them wait for an audience. The counterwoman and her strange magic. Karla's invisibility being stripped away. It all felt so strategic. So tactful. The Mayor was clearly expecting them, but if that were true, to what end? A king didn't invite enemies to his doorstep. Not the wise ones, at least. Not without several precautions. What are we walking into?

“Lui?” Karla asked.

“Nothing.” He followed after her, the counterwoman offering a wave as they passed. Her deep brown eyes had the appearance of kindness, but Luizitine knew better than to believe them. “Be on your guard, Karla.”

Following the path, they came down a section of hall marked by framed portraits and charts. A few he recognized from previous worlds. Mathematicians were always useful pawns to keep around. Their projections were good for tracking kingdom resources. And it appeared the humans of Earth had similar craftsmen. Whoever the mayor was, he had an eye for detail. Which only made Luizitine more uneasy.

“Karla.”

“Hmm?”

“These graphs. Is mathematics common in this world?”

“Uh…yeah. I mean, everybody hates it, but they teach it in school? Why?”

He nodded to himself. “I may need to enroll in time.”

The two finally reached the hall’s end, a wooden door marking their destination. Just as the counter woman had said, there was a silver plague clear as day over the frame. But neither needed to have looked at it as the door was wide open.

Inside there was a small office space, a long wooden desk standing before a window larger than any Luizitine had seen in Justin's house. Or on most buildings in Angelas. The man sitting in front of it had a steaming mug in his hands, his legs crossed as he looked up at them with a wide grin.

“Ms. Spirit," he said. "And I take it this man is your medium?”

Both he and Karla looked at each other. This was the Mayor of Angelas?

The man clearly wasn't royalty, not a crown or encrusted jewel in sight. Instead, he was dressed in a fine blue suit, the seams admittedly free of a single wrinkle. As was his face, the smooth skin making him appear no older than they were. But the way he carried himself. How his frame sat leaning against the chair. He was no king, but he had the presence of an elder. One who showed no fear at the sight of a phantom.

"It's good to meet you both," he said, putting his drink aside. "So sorry for the wait. Mayor Tupwell at your service. And you both are?"

“A pissed-off ghost,” Karla said.

“And an acquaintance,” Luizitine added. “My name is Justin.”

The elder nodded. He offered the two chairs to them, of which they reluctantly took. No need to start trouble when they’d just gotten their audience. Besides, the quicker they were out the quicker the nagging sensation would go away.

"Your stupid construction dudes are trespassing," Karla said.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"The junkyard is public property, Ms. Spirit."

"Then make it not public. If someone's gotta take it, give it to this guy."

"It's not that simple. The land's already been bought, I'm afraid."

"And I don't get any say in this? I've been living there for years, y'know."

"She's right," Luizitine spoke up. "If Karla has been residing in the junkyard she should have a say in its handling. She is a citizen of this city, technically speaking. As am I. If there is an issue of protocol, I'm willing to negotiate on her behalf."

“That’s my friggin’ home, and I wanna stay,” Karla added. "I don't really have anywhere else to go."

As they laid out their proposal, the counter woman came by metallic tray, placing two cups in front of both of them. Karla outright ignored hers while Luizitine gave his a passing glance. It didn't smell like poison, but he wasn't eager to take that chance.

"I understand your frustrations, Ms.- Karla was it? You've been living in the junkyard a while now, correct?"

“Three years, last I checked,” she said.

“And that is exactly why this meeting is so important. As we make these arrangements, we want to ensure everything in our power is done to assist your transition.”

“Transition?” Karla's face contorted in rage. Luizitine put up a hand to stop her, waiting for the elder to finish.

“We’ve been very generous in not disturbing your place of rest, Ms. Karla," he said. "But recent events have changed that, I’m afraid. As mayor of this fine city, I’ve always got an ear to the ground. I'd like to think nothing gets passed me, but even I have my blind spots. But that junkyard is not one of them. Every time a company complains about a spirit chasing away their workers, I hear about it. Every time a child has to be put in therapy for getting haunted by the junkyard ghost, I hear about it. Every time a tourist comes by and stumbles upon the famous 'paranormal wonder of Angelas' I hear about it. That junkyard's been trouble since the day I took office."

He raised the mug to his lips, taking a long sip as he sat back in his chair. The strain in his word made it clear as day where he stood on the issue, but Luizitine had half-expected as much. One did not simply go to a king and demand they relinquish land without some manner of leverage. And neither he nor Karla had much money to their name. In fact, the very nature of Earth's currency was still a completely foreign concept to the hellspawn.

But there were other ways to bargain. While treasures and jewels worked wonders, humans always valued their lives above all else.

“I have a duty to protect the city and its reputation,” the Mayor said. “That junkyard is a bad reflection on the rest of us. But we believe we can change it for the better. To build something beautiful to show our rise from a dark past. That’s what this park really is, Ms. Karla. A chance for the city to start anew. The people who bought that land will nurture it into something better. All I ask is that you give it some thought.”

Karla’s expression didn’t change. When she looked to him, he knew all too well what she wanted. The hellspawn nodded. That was all it took.

Karla flew out of her chair, jumping on the desk as her body grew thrice its size, fur and claws ripping into shape. She drew her fangs back in a roar, the monstrous form dwarfing everyone in the room by a wide margin as she screamed in the Mayor's face.

“TOUCH MY JUNKYARD, AND I’ll SWALLOW YOUR SOU-“

The ghost stopped.

She seized up, her body returning to normal in a snap. Karla fell to her knees, trembling violently. Luizitine jumped out of his chair, whirling on the woman still holding onto her metal tray.

“Please refrain from threatening the mayor, Ms. Spirit,” the counterwoman said.

Her eyes were shining green. They returned to brown as her hand lowered, malice-free smile returning. Karla's shock remained, the ghost raising her shaky palms as she let out a frail voice.

“I-I felt that?”

She looked back to the woman, a flash of panic in her eyes. She didn’t say another word, sinking through the floor as Luiztine looked on. There was no mistaking what he'd just seen. What he'd felt. If she had been aiming at him, he would have died on the spot.

“She’s returning to the junkyard, sir,” the counterwoman said. “Should I pursue?”

“No, that won’t be necessary."

The Mayor sipped at his drink, even going so far as retrieving a fresh mug from the pitcher a few inches away.

"That should be enough of a warning,” he said. “Son, I don’t know what business you have with that ghost, but I’d advise you not to get involved here. Some things in this world you’re better off not knowing about.”

The woman tapped him on the shoulder, the same kind smile offered as she lifted a paper bag in front of him. It smelled of sweets.

“For your troubles,” she said. “Please stay away from bad spirits, Mr. Justin. And have a pleasant day.”

As she said that, Luizitine finally realized what the purpose of the meeting was. Why the Mayor had been so willing to wait for them to approach.

A message. Both to Karla and to anyone who would associate with her. The bag made it clear as day what they offered Luizitine. The chance to walk away and wipe his hands of the whole situation. To pretend like nothing happened and to let the powers at be take care of the rest. Given what he'd seen of the counterwoman, it was a tempting offer. One he knew better than to turn his nose up at.

He took the gift bag with a hesitant nod, slowly making his way out of the office. He expected them to watch him leave. To ensure he wasn’t up to no good. But he’d barely left the room before the two were talking casually amongst each other.

“By the way, your wife called. She says she's making lasagna tonight.”

“Oh, great. Ben loves Italian, right? You oughta join us.”

“I dunno. Ben's really picky.”

"Well, Ben's never had the wife's lasagna. I swear it'd make an angel cry."

As they talked and laughed, Luizitine looked inside his gift bag. There were freshly baked muffins sitting at the bottom. Above them all was a note signed by Mayor Tupwell himself.

Thanks for your support, dear citizen.

He hurried towards the junkyard.