After dinner, Jesse yawned, her eyes at half-mast. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed early. We can check out the scrapyard in the morning. Or not. Maybe not. Let’s go find a real Greek diner and have a big, delicious breakfast instead.” Happily muttering about eggs over easy, hash browns, and strong diner coffee, Jesse toddled off to bed.

Larry shook his head in dismissal of Jesse’s cavalier attitude toward their new assignment. He determined he would not fail another magical partner by getting lazy and not staying on top of things. If Jesse wasn’t yet ready to tackle their new magical duties, he’d just have to pick up the slack.

The kitchen door featured a cat flap. After several valiant efforts to squeeze his giant Rottweiler Pitt-bull mix body through an opening meant for an obviously skinny, and probably mangey cat, Larry admitted defeat. Sighing in resignation, he called up a small amount of magic. Just enough to unlock the back door and open it.

His black fur blended into the darkness outside as he loped toward the scrapyard’s haphazard mounds of disused magical machinery. He raised his head and inhaled deeply, nostrils quivering in the cool night air. Yep, his first impression when they arrived was correct. They weren’t the only ones living within the high metal walls surrounding the scrapyard. Besides the Brownie, of course. Larry again thanked the goddess for that Fae blessing.

Larry picked up his paws, one after the other, and shook them. His other impression when they arrived was that there was more magic in this place than there should be. A lot more. It buzzed in the air and rumbled under his paws. For a place that was supposed to house nothing more than broken down magical remnants, all traces of magic long faded away, the powerful magical energy emanating from somewhere amongst the dusty relics concerned Larry a great deal.

* * *

A skittering sound, claws on metal, made Larry jump. He swung his head around, pinpointed the source, then raced toward it. Better to discover and dominate all scrapyard inhabitants, supernatural and otherwise, from the start. As he rounded the corner of the office shed, paws kicking up dust with his speed, something small and hard bounced painfully off his side. He skidded to a stop and took cover around the side of the office, away from the direction of fire. Larry peeked around the wall and eyed the object with a frown. A large screw lay gleaming dully in the moonlight. Seconds later, another screw flew at his head, causing him to scramble back behind the wall. It hit the wall where his head had been moments ago with enough force to dent the wood.

“Alright, you numbskull. Just stop with the throwing shit, or I’ll make you stop. And I promise you won’t like how I’ll do it.” Larry put enough magical energy into his voice to make most creatures cower in fear. He wasn’t one of the oldest and most powerful Familiars ever to exist for nothing.

Instead of immediate surrender, a maniacal laugh greeted his threat. “But first, you’d have to catch me, Familiar. And I know this place like the back of my claw. You’re huge. And slow. I can hear you coming from a mile away. Smell you, too. When’s the last time you had a bath?”

Claws tinking on metal, followed by a small avalanche clinking down the side of the closest mountain of magical waste, alerted Larry to the location of the crazy creature who dared defy him. Now he was pissed. His body glowing with golden magic, he used its power to propel him halfway up the metal slope in a single bound.

“Woah, dog breath! You’ll bring this whole mound tumbling down if you’re not careful.” A small green creature climbed out from behind a piece of machinery and squatted a few feet away from Larry. The creature’s muscles were tensed for flight, but his face bore an easy grin. “Howdy, there pardner. I hear you and that old woman you arrived with are from the Western states. Where’s your horse?”

“You heard wrong.” Larry ground his teeth and prepared to spring. “We are from Massachusetts, not the Midwest, you idiot. Anyway, it’s the 21st century. Nobody travels by horse anymore.”

The creature’s eyes grew dreamy. “They do in the Underworld. Enormous creatures the horses there are, too, with fiery eyes and sharp teeth. Sharp enough to eat metal, but instead they just chomp on boring old grass. Oh, and the occasional demon who pisses them off.”

A lightbulb came on in Larry’s head. “You’re a ferrous demon. If I remember right, here on earth, the humans call your kind gremlins. You eat metal for dinner.”

“For breakfast and lunch, too. Yum!” The little demon grinned and rubbed his round belly. “A scrapyard’s a great place for a gremlin. An endless supply of tasty metal, all just piled up and waiting to be eaten.”

Larry gazed doubtfully at the massive mounds of metal waste stretching as far as the eye could see. “You mustn’t be very hungry then, as this place looks untouched.”

“Hey! Enough with the insults, fur-for-brains! I’m a picky eater. And not very big. It doesn’t take much to fill me up, so don’t worry about the scrapyard going out of business anytime soon for lack of magical metal parts.” The little gremlin belched. “Just hope you’re not needing any carburetors. I polished the last of those off ages ago.”

The creature settled on his haunches, his compact body now flanked by long, skinny legs. “Name’s Carb, by the way.”

Larry relaxed slightly but kept his magic up. “I’m Larry. My magical partner is Jesse. She’s not old. She’s a witch. The old lady act is a disguise.”

“Oh. Who’s she hiding from?”

“Life,” Larry muttered dismally, “she’s hiding from life.”

“Well, she’s come to the right place, then. Nothing much ever happens here.” The gremlin hesitated, then added, “Well, not usually.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Larry’s ears perked. “Nothing? What about the missing scrapyard manager?”

“Oh, that.” Carb nodded; his attention focused on a large shiny screw. Quick as lightning, he snatched up the screw and popped it in his mouth. Razor-sharp teeth crunched away. “Yum. Can’t resist screws. They’re like potato chips ... one is never enough.”

Resisting an overwhelming urge to bite the little green creature, Larry asked, “So, do you know what happened to the last manager?”

“Sure. About a month ago, some men drove up in a van and called him outside the gates. One of ‘em was dressed all important-like.” Carb shrugged. “The dressed-up guy said he was from the Witch Council. He told Ted they had a broken magical tool on a truck heading this way that might be too big for the gates.” Carb snorted. “Like that would happen. Those gates are 20 feet wide. The dummy left the magical protection of the wards and walked right up to their van. Two goons jumped out, threw a blanket over him, bundled him into the back of the van, and drove off.” Carb popped another screw into his mouth and chewed. “Haven’t seen him since.”

The low-level concern Larry had about the missing scrapyard manager bloomed. Something was definitely wrong. “What happened to his Familiar? I scented a magical cat when we first got here.”

“Midnight? Oh, she took off after the van. Haven’t seen her since, either.” Carb poured a handful of small nails into his open mouth.

Annoyed by the gremlin’s cavalier attitude to the missing manager and his Familiar, Larry barked at him. “And you didn’t think to tell anyone about this at the time? The Witch Council thinks the manager quit with no notice.”

“I did tell someone. A week after Ted went missing, some geezer from the Witch Council showed up. Tall dude, skinny. Smarmy, superior attitude. He and his buddy came at night. Tried to get through the wards with no success. When I challenged them, they told me they were looking for Ted. I told them what happened to him. They wanted inside, but I told ‘em to sod off.” Carb sat up, his next words indignant. “What more could I do? I can’t leave the scrapyard unattended, or another gremlin will move in on my turf and I might lose it. I know I look big and strong to you, but I’m small for my species. I’m lucky to have found this place, and I’m not risking losing it for anyone.”

Larry hid a smile. “Okay, simmer down. Sounds like you did what you could.” He rubbed a paw on his nose in thought. “So, someone from the Council showed up, huh? But they couldn’t get past the wards? That means they didn’t have official permission to be here.” The fur rose along Larry’s back as he considered Carb’s words. “I think I know who the Councilman was. There’s one by the name of Jenkins that fits your description and is as corrupt as they come. But who was his accomplice, I wonder? And what the hell are they up to?”

“Couldn’t get a good look. His buddy was wearing a cape with the hood up, but I’m pretty sure it was a woman.” Carb fingered a screw but didn’t pick it up. He was getting full.

Larry closed his eyes and exhaled. Litha. Jenkins’ female companion had to be her. Those two were up to something. But why would they send him and Jesse to the scrapyard if they wanted access to it themselves? Wouldn’t it make more sense to leave it unstaffed? Then it hit him. Both the Councilman and Litha thought he and Jesse were losers. They didn’t think either of them posed a threat to their plans. How else to get through the wards than having someone on the inside who could be forced to let them in? Still, it made little sense. Litha couldn’t possibly think either of them would grant her access to their new home. Something about the situation still escaped him.

“Well, if you’re done talking, I’m off. Places to go and things to do and all that.” Carb rose to his full 3-foot height, his thin legs appearing too weak to support his thick body.

“A couple more things before you go.” Larry sorted through the questions tumbling around in his mind. “Has anyone else attempted to gain access to the scrapyard, other than the Councilman and his companion?”

Carb was already nodding in the affirmative. “Those big dudes who kidnapped the manager have been back almost every night since. They’ve tested the whole perimeter. The fools have gotten nothing but powerful magical shocks—and a few nasty cuts from the razor wire, for their efforts.” With a pleased smirk, he added, “I’ll say one thing for Ted. He could damn sure set some powerful wards. They’ve barely weakened at all since he’s been gone.”

Which could mean only one thing, Larry knew. If the wards were still active and strong, the manager was still alive, and likely being tortured by whoever kidnapped him to gain his cooperation. The unsettling feeling he’d had since he first padded through the gates grew, gnawing at his stomach.

“So, my opinion? You’ve got two sets of bad guys trying to gain access to the scrapyard. Maybe they’re working together. Maybe not.” Carb crossed his skinny arms. “I’m nocturnal, so I can keep an eye out at night. I’ll let you know when either group shows up again. And they will.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be back. Whatever it is they are looking for must be hidden here in the scrapyard. Which brings me to my last question.” Larry fixed the small gremlin with a stern glare. “What the bloody HELL are they after here? You must know. You told me you know this damn scrapyard like the back of your claw.”

Shrugging, Carb replied, “Beats me. I’ve only been here a couple years. The missing manager’s been here for more than half a century. I’m assuming he knows what the bad guys are after. It’s likely he hid it here himself.” The gremlin eyed a pile of junk near his feet, then stooped to pick up a small metal rod. “I’ll save this for later when I get peckish. If you got no more questions, I’d like to get back to my nightly rounds.”

“Just one more thing. Can’t you sense the crazy amount of magical energy wafting around this place? I felt it as soon as I passed through the gates. There’s definitely a magical item of great power hidden here somewhere. And I don’t think it’s broken, at all.” Larry raised his head and scented the air, trying to determine the direction the insidious, heavy magic emanated from.

“Of course, I can sense the magical energy. What—you think I’m stupid? I felt it as soon as I moved in. A friend told me about this place, that the last gremlin had up and left for no reason, so I beat feet over here and took over.” Carb’s pointed green nose crinkled in thought. “I’m not sure why the last gremlin left. But there’s some great eating metal here, and nobody bothers me, so I put up with the magical buzz.”

Larry considered the gremlin thoughtfully, wondering if his new buddy was a bit dim, or just willfully blind to the truth. “You do realize that your gremlin compatriots, and most other supernaturals, likely avoid this place because of the strange, likely dangerous, magical energy here, don’t you?”

Carb bellowed a hearty guffaw. “Oh, come on. Do ya think I’m stupid? ‘Course, I know there’s something ... dangerously magical hereabouts. I’m just not inclined to ask too many questions about it—or look for it. What I don’t know can’t hurt me, right?”

With a sigh, Larry shook his head. Another creature who wouldn’t listen to reason or ask for help. Someone with no sense of self-preservation. Mabel’s stubborn face floated in his mind’s eye. Grief filled him and he whined a low protest.

“Listen, keep your eyes and ears open, Carb. You’re in charge of the Night Watch. Let me know if anyone comes snooping around. And for goddesses’ sake, be careful. Whatever’s hidden here has already gotten at least one person kidnapped. I fear ....” Larry didn’t know what he feared, but he couldn’t shake an ominous foreboding. This wasn’t going to be the easy, cushy assignment that either he or Jesse had hoped. Sigh.