TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-ONE

U-Store-It!

Public Self-Storage Units off of Interstate 12

WHILE FERNÁNDEZ SPENT the night alternating between stacking crap in front of the big metal door and bitching under his breath about “lazy-ass magic douchebags,” Roo prepared for the reanimation of Charley Mouton. The spell used to create the clay vessel for the Golem was relatively straight forward and was to be the last component of the invocation to be done closest to dawn. Using Charley’s degraded tooth to return the ex-Ranger’s soul to the created body, that was the tricky part.

Besides, Roo thought, as Fernández swore loudly because the cot he’d just tossed on the top of the makeshift barrier tumbled off the pile and nearly hit him, hard work helps the little man forget he’s been out of chewing tobacco for a few hours.

A little before dawn, the bit of yellowing ivory that represented what was left of Charley’s physical form, hummed with stored energy as Roo completed the difficult spell work. Next,