Joey could feel the man sizing him up, wearing as he was Latimer’s clothing which didn’t quite fit, and deciding Joey wasn’t wealthy enough to afford the things he was looking at.

He resisted the impulse to pull out wads of cash to prove otherwise. Instead he said, “Do you know where I could find Wogdon & Barton Flintlock Target Pistols? I’d like to start practicing with them today, but I don’t suppose you have a pair in stock.”

“Actually I do, in excellent condition. The thing is, they go for $6500 dollars.”

Joey shook his head sadly. “No way I could afford that.”

The man started to back away, his worst suspicions confirmed.

Joey continued, “Maybe I could go to $4500.00.”

The man stopped moving, but his mouth flattened into a flat line. Had Joey’s opening offer been too low? Low enough to merely annoy the owner instead starting a round of bargaining?

“Could I see some ID please?”

Joey said casually, “Why? It’s not like I’m asking you to sell me a firearm.”

The other man grinned. Technically this was true. Legally, pre twentieth century designs were considered antiques rather than firearms. This also applied to muzzleloaders and weapons which did not use fixed ammunition. The pistols were all three.

“My name is Able. I’m pleased to see you are an educated man.”

The bargaining took on a friendlier tone after that. Soon it evolved that for a flat fee of seven thousand dollars the man would give him daily lessons for the next couple of weeks, including supplies of black powder and balls that would be needed. Of course the wear and tear on his new guns would be Joey’s responsibility.

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When they went down to the shooting range in the basement, it turned out Joey had a pretty good teacher. He learned to load and unload his weapon, to clean it, and of course to fire it. Apart from the shape, the strangest thing about his new toy was the tiny pause between the hammer hitting and the actual explosion of the powder.

When the doorbell rang Joey glanced at his watch, and was surprised to find that a couple of hours had passed. When the owner suggested he had had enough for today and should come back tomorrow, Joey nodded agreement. Joey followed him upstairs and walked outside while the proprietor dealt with his new customer. A good thing Joey had gotten here early.

Now he was out in the sunshine, and felt good despite the next upcoming fatal duel. He still had two thousand dollars in his pocket. Well, minus a taxi ride, and the one he would take back to the mansion, And lunch might be nice too. It felt good to have money in his pocket.

He wondered if he still had her phone number.

Joey felt another memory coming back. A certain girl who looked very classy with her clothing on but was extraordinarily good at what she did for a living. Granted her prices were high for a little city like this, but she was worth every penny.

She called herself the Whore of Babylon.

Then he wondered if it would feel weird to have Emerald inside his head while he did it. Maybe it would, but he damned well wasn’t going to give up getting laid.

For the first time he wondered what it would be like for Emerald. The elder hadn’t had a physical body for thousands of years, he seemed to recall.

Then Emerald woke. He was not uninterested in what the human seemed to have in mind, but thought it might be better to save the rest of the money for awhile. It might not be easy to get more, at least until he had convinced Diopside they were on the same side. If they were on the same side.

He should have Joey use Latimer’s cell phone. It could call Ubers, at least until – could Joey pay Latimer’s bills? Could he get his own cell phone? Everything seemed to require identification, and only criminals knew how to fake it.

For now he called another taxi.