I spent the next few weeks working odd jobs, trying, and failing, to communicate with the Dragon’s-Eye amulet. For some reason, no matter how much I pleaded—no matter how much I begged—and screamed:

That fucking Dragon wouldn’t answer me.

Still, the thought of the thief in the alley, Quinn Poverly, and his victim… the one I failed to save, pushed me forward. As such, in addition to those odd jobs, I became a regular at the boxing gym. Edith Alden, the property owner and, apparently, boxing trainer, gave me an old pair of boxing gloves the first day I dared show my face. She said nothing else, disappearing into the back room where she stayed for ten plus hours a day, smoke pouring from underneath the closed door at a near constant rate. The other gym denizens called her the chimney, and I couldn’t think of a more apt name.

I was just finishing up a session—or what I called them at the time. Wiping my sweat off with an already dirty towel before throwing it in a backpack, I pulled my two red boxing gloves off my hands. They were old—almost as old as Edith if I had to guess. The stitching was loose, and the pads had been worn like an elderly jogger's knees. But, for some reason, I liked them! They had character. Charm. You just didn’t get that from newer store bought stuff.

“Ike!” Bruno called to me; one of the regulars at the gym. Dark, tall and handsome, he padded the sweat off his curly black hair with a damp towel. In my time there, he had become somewhat of a mentor to me. After a few days of tapping aimlessly at a punching bag or trying and failing to use the speed bag, he took pity on me. He’d told me, ‘Enough’s enough. Come on, let’s get you some proper form, eh,’ in his aggravatingly British accent. Bruno put his hand on my shoulder. “Couple of us boys are headin’ out to the pub. Wanna come?”

“Hey!” Tera said, “Some of us are ladies you know. Ladies… not that you have too much experience with us.”

Bruno laughed. “Good one Tera, who taught you that? Your Ex? Your Ex-Ex? Or your Ex-Ex-Ex?”

Tera slugged him in the arm. “Asshole. Oh, and by the way, we’re in America, they’re called ‘bars.’”

“I'll try and remember that.”

“You guys go on ahead,” I said, interrupting the two as I shouldered my backpack. “I’ve got some shit to do tonight.”

Bruno turned back to me, frowning. “You still workin’ at that sleazy motel some nights?” He leaned real close, pointing a finger at me. “I tell ya’, you’re gonna get killed there someday.”

“Money’s money,” I replied, pulling away. “And they pay quite a bit of it for doing next to no work.”

“There’s prostitutes there. Women are getting raped.”

“All the more the reason for me to be there. If I see something like that, I’ll call the cops. But, as for prostitution, if everyone’s a willing participant… Well then, I have no right to judge. Right ‘mate?’”

“Right…” Bruno replied, letting his arm go limp. “Just be careful Ike, you hear? And if you ever wanna go straight, maybe I can get you a job at the pub waiting tables. I spent enough money there, the owner owes me good.”

I waved him off stubbornly. “I’m ok. Really.”

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“Yeah, alright,” Bruno slung his own bag on his shoulder. “Well you best get on with it then. Seeya on the morrow?”

I waved to him as he left, Tera and a few others in tow. “Tomorrow.”

***

Cled, a southern lookin' man with an untamely red beard handed me the keys to the Wandering Stars Inn, a place I'd picked up a few shifts for as the on-site keyholder. "You good?" he asked, looking at my red flushed face. "You're all… sweaty."

"Just came from the gym," I replied, throwing my backpack behind the small counter of the check-in office. "I'll just grab a shower from one of the rooms."

Cled looked at me with disgust. "You trust em'?"

I shrugged. "Most of our customers don't look like they showed too often. Think I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself." He pulled his jeans up over his enormous gut. "Have a good night."

"I'll try," I replied as Cled left, the door chiming multiple times as it failed to catch the latch.

A few hours went by with relative ease. I'd taken my shower quickly, taping a sign to the door asking people to wait. This type of place had people check in at all hours. Prostitutes, drug dealers and some who just wanted to get away. All kinds were welcome here.

I'd just helped set up a regular; a man, mid-thirties who had marital issues. He said the hotel was his safe place to rest—to get away from the wife he knew was cheating him, but didn't have the balls to confront her about it. I nodded to his various stories, letting him vent, and then handing him the keys as I always did. That’s all some people need in this world; someone to listen to them.

No judgment.

Then, unusually, a pair of men pulled up in an expensive looking black Lexus. Not the sort you'd typically see here. One man went to stand in front of room seven carrying a large black bag and the other came into the office.

"Can I help you?" I asked him as he looked up at me with sky-blue eyes. Piercingly blue.

"A room for the night," the Blue-eyed man replied. Reaching into a pocket in his vest, he pulled out a wallet, and opened it. There, I could see pictures of young children, presumably, his family. Quickly, he shut it, dropping a crisp one-hundred on the counter. "Room 7, and keep any extra for yourself. We'll leave the key in the room."

"Got it.” I pulled the bill towards me, sliding back the key as I did. "Anything else? Water?"

"Sure," he said absently, not really paying attention as something caught his eye outside the window.

I walked to the back where we had a small fridge that I kept stocked with water. Grabbing one, I walked towards the front to hear that stupid fucking door, once again, chime relentlessly as it failed to catch the magnetic strip that should hold it closed.

"For fucks sake," I said, out loud, walking to the door to still it.

Looking out, I saw Blue-eyes walk to room seven, and towards his partner in the tan suit. It was common for married men, unable to confront their own sexualities, to explore them in a place like this.

As I said, all kinds belong here. No judgment.

They went inside, and Tan-suit struggled to lift the bag as he did. Deciding I'd better drop the water off quickly, I opened the door and walked over.

As I approached, I heard a strange sound—like sobbing. A child? Not remembering having checked in anyone with a child, not that this would be the place for one, I pressed my head to the door. It wasn't long before I heard a sound that caused my heart to drop into my stomach.

The sound of a little girl crying.

"Shit…" I muttered, remembering I left my cell back in the office. I walked away quickly, but heard the door open behind me. As I turned, I felt the barrel of a gun press against my chest, and I shook my head at my ill-luck.

"Inside," Blue-eyes insisted, pushing the gun so roughly against my skin that I could feel a bruise begin to spread.

I walked in, feeling the familiar and gentle caress of the Dragon's-Eye amulet against my leg. It was the only comfort I had as I walked into hell itself. I tried desperately to communicate with it—

If you’re going to do something, then you better do it now.