That afternoon, Jabber was driving home through the shopping district when he noticed something interesting. As he passed Joseph’s Angel Wings on Elysium Street, he saw a sign hung above the shop next door: “Space for rent, inquire within.”

He immediately pulled his gig over and went inside. Apparently the shop, which had sold flowers, used to be connected to a moving castle through a portal at the top of its back stairs. The portal broke when the castle’s fire demon became a free agent and refused to move the castle any further. Since the previous owners could no longer gather flowers from the wild fields their demon-powered castle used to move through, they had decided to rent the shop, close the portal, and move permanently to their now fixed-in-place castle.

“Just so long as no demons come creeping through those stairs back there,” Jabber joked as he signed the lease agreement.

The agent, a short man in a red embroidered waistcoat, laughed. “No indeed! That portal’s closed. The owners are long gone. Now just sign here, and here, and we’re done!”

Jabber shook the man’s hand in excitement and took his copy of the agreement. Then he sauntered over to Joseph’s Angel Wings Shop.

Opening the door, he called out, “Greetings, Joseph!”

Joseph was standing behind his counter. The moment he saw Jabber he frowned. “I thought I told you not to come in here.”

Jabber walked up to the counter, his steps light and excited. “Yes, you did, but don’t you worry, I’m not going to stay long. I was merely coming to inform you of something.”

“Indeed? What’s that?” Joseph asked scowling. His sleeves were rolled up and he had a white hand towel over his shoulder. The shop was mostly empty except for a couple in the back, sitting next to each other on a sofa, giggling.

“Only this,” Jabber said, patting the documents in his hand. “I’ve just rented the shop next door.”

“So?”

“So, I have great plans for that little shop. I’m going to open an angel wings store exactly like yours but with lower prices. And the only reason I’m doing that is to put you out of business.”

Joseph laughed outright. “Is that supposed to make me nervous? You don’t know the first thing about running a wing shop. It’s not all angels and fairies you know. First of all, where are you going to get your wings? You’re not an angel. You can’t call seraphim down.”

“Oh I’ll get plenty of angel wings! I’ll fill my stores with the best wings there are.”

“That’s impossible,” Joseph replied, his own wings beginning to flutter in agitation. “And you know why? Because I’ve got the best in town.”

“No, they definitely are not.”

“I don’t give a damn what you think,” Joseph said. “My customers swear by my wings . . . But you know what? I wish you luck. It’ll be fun watching you fail.”

“No, it’ll be fun watching you go out of business,” Jabber said and turned to go. He stopped all of a sudden and looked back. “And guess what I’m going to call my shop?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Joseph placed both his hands on his counter and leaned forward as he growled, “What?!”

“Jabber’s Flappers!” the magician cackled. “Jabber’s Flappers!”

***

Later that night, Jabber was in his personal chapel, singing psalms to his Lost God. Tears slipped down his face as he sang the words of longing for a God that no longer answered. Often he wondered why he couldn’t have had a different God, one that was more present in his life, one that actually responded to prayers and didn’t take off before they could spend some quality time together. Instead, all he had was the silence of God’s absence. That, combined with the events of the previous week, had brought him to tears.

A loud knock suddenly came from the front door.

Wiping his eyes, he gathered his evening robes about him and went to see who it was.

He was surprised to find Vicky standing on the threshold in a sheer silk gown, a bottle of pomegranate wine in her hands.

She bit her bottom lip and smiled at him. “May I . . . come in?”

Jabber stared just a moment too long and then said, “Of course! Of course! What a surprise!”

Seeing his discomfiture, Vicky became hesitant. “You know . . . I said we might see each other again, and so I thought?”

“No, no, I’m only. . .” Jabber wiped his eyes again self-consciously. “I mean it’s wonderful you came!”

They both were silent. Vicky held her arms together so that her gown slipped down, exposing her soft shoulder. Her fiery scent of burnt honey filled his nostrils.

Jabber gulped. “Give me just a second,” he said, holding up his hand. “I’ll be right back!”

With that he left Vicky in the foyer and rushed across the back lawn to the guest house (built to look like a thatched peasant's hut), where the golem made his lair.

He banged on the rounded ironbound door. A moment later the golem opened it. He had a pipe in his hand, and like Jabber was also wearing a robe, except his was long, velvety red, and trimmed in black. He looked casually dapper in the soft firelight radiating from inside.

“What can I do for you Jabber?”

“You have any more of that aphrodisiac stuff we made at Potion’s Club?”

“Love Potion Number Nine?” the golem said. “I used most of it, but I might have a bottle left.”

“Great! Go get it for me.”

“Happily,” the golem replied, but instead of going back inside to retrieve it, he leaned against the door frame. “But first tell me–who are you fae-ing?”

“Come on! I need it now.”

“Who?”

“Fine!” Jabber looked back at the house and groaned in frustration. “Vicky!”

The golem smiled wide and embraced Jabber. “Vicky?! Congratulations my friend! I knew you still had it in you. I’ll be right back.”

Half a minute later the golem returned with a glass phial filled with a shining pink liquid that seemed to shift and roil with a deeper violet. He handed it to Jabber.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? You know one of the ingredients is Holy Water right? That might not be the best for Vicky.”

Jabber took the phial gleefully. “It’s not for Vicky you pebblehead, it’s for me.”

“Ah,” the golem laughed. “Feeling limp tonight?”

“Oh, shut up,” Jabber grumbled good-naturedly. “It’s completely normal at my age. I was doing some good old spiritual weeping and then the shock of seeing her . . . it was just too much for my Little Jabber down there. But no worries, this will take care of that!”

Jabber removed the cork and drank the entire concoction down. It was delicious, like a warm shot of maple syrup, pepper, and cinnamon. He felt its heat hit his stomach and then radiate out like a fire flaming through his entire body, filling him to the brim with youthful energy and libido.

“Love Potion Number Nine!” the Golem exclaimed, patting Jabber on his shoulder. “Go get her, tiger!"