Once Miri finished her ice cream, an eager Bithia threw the empty cup away and herded the child into the shop.
A dozen old clocks ticked in the first room by the entrance, painted faces and glowing visages counting down the seconds, minutes, and hours. So the visitor to this antique shop began in a chamber of time—clever. Beyond it, a dozen rooms stretched forward, silhouettes of a variety of different objects sketched in the dim lighting. Bithia imagined it smelled like most antique shops—faintly musty, but in a pleasant way. It would be the scent of aging wood and yellowed paper, rusted metal and decaying electronics. How she wished she could experience it.
“You can look, but don’t touch anything,” she told Miri. “It’s like you’re in a museum. You don’t want to break stuff.” Nodding, the girl wandered off to explore.
Bithia walked deeper into the shop, entering a room stacked with shelves of ancient books, datacrons, and various other means of preserving knowledge. A spiral staircase led up; she could hear voices above. She climbed the steps.
She emerged in a well-lit area full of locked cases displaying old jewelry and other fragile valuables. The voices, one of them unmistakably Nimdok’s, were conversing in the next room. She lingered a while, perusing the contents of the display cases and eavesdropping.
“How old would you say it is?” Nimdok asked.
“I’m no psychometrist. Your guess is as good as mine.” The other voice was that of an elderly woman, raspy and withered with age. “Look at these markings. Do you recognize the language?”
“No, but then I’m not a linguist.” There was a pause. “I suppose it could be an obscure planetary dialect. Do you have a record of who sold it to you?”
“Some no-name wandering adventurer. He said he’d bought it from some trader, who bought it from someone, who bought it from someone. Impossible to trace.” Another pause. “Would you… like to open it?”
“Not now, and certainly not here,” Nimdok replied. “These things can be quite dangerous, especially if you have no idea what might be inside. I would be interested in studying it, however. Is it for sale?”
“Hmm, maybe on loan. But not for mere credits. I have no use for money.”
“Really? You must be very fortunate.”
“Business is doing rather well.”
Bithia’s brow furrowed. Her psychology programming was picking up on qualities in the old woman’s vocal tones and word choice which indicated she was preparing for deception. It was so subtle, however, that Nimdok would have no clue he was being tricked. As she slowly approached the threshold, peering through, Bithia saw a little old Keshiri lady and Nimdok sitting across from each other at a small round table, at the center of which lay… a holocron. It was pyramid-shaped, engraved with strange runes, and the crystal lattice was an obvious Sith Red™.
“Well, what would you prefer as payment?” Nimdok asked.
The old woman adjusted her glasses. “Hmm, how about your soul?”
Nimdok blinked in surprise, then let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s one I haven’t heard before. What would you need my soul for?”
"A loan, of course. If you fail to return this in time, I'll come to collect..."
Before the old woman could say another word, Bithia crossed the threshold and entered the room. “I see you’ve managed to get yourself into trouble again,” she remarked, glaring at Nimdok with her hands on her hips.
“Bithia?” He sighed in relief. “Er, how long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.” She reached forward and snatched the holocron off the table. “I’m absolutely astonished that you still haven’t gotten it through your head how dangerous these things are.”
“I wasn’t going to—”
“I don’t believe you,” she snapped. “I know how you are. Reckless, impatient, selfish—and a proven thief. Were you going to dupe this poor woman into giving you something valuable for nothing in return?”
Nimdok stared at her, one eyebrow raised, wondering what she was trying to accomplish. Meanwhile, the little old lady stood up from her chair, wringing her hands fretfully. “Please, oh please, put it down. It’s fragile, priceless! If you drop it, oh, I don’t know what I’ll do...”
Bithia turned to her, conducting a quick scan. Everything seemed normal, except… a very noticeable lack of higher brain functions. Such readings were found only in the sleeping and the comatose. “Fine. I’ll put it down—but somewhere out of his reach.”
“Give it to me, please.” The old woman held out her hands beseechingly. Bithia started to pass the holocron over to her… then dropped it.
“Bithia!” Nimdok yelped, though he quickly changed his tune after the old woman let out an
unearthly shriek and dove down to catch it before it collided with the hardwood floor.
“I’m so sorry!” Bithia said, playacting a perfect imitation of guilt and remorse as she crouched down beside the old woman. One hand slid into her pocket, her fist closing around a tiny plastic spray
bottle. “Here, let me help you...”
She took the bottle out of her pocket and quickly spritzed the old woman’s throat. The hag let out a wail, then gasped for breath, her body convulsing violently.
Nimdok practically fell out of his chair trying to get away the resulting smell. “A little more warning would’ve been nice!” he exclaimed, covering his nose and mouth with his arm even as he backed out of the room. Bithia took the holocron from the old woman’s slackened grip, waiting for the shakes to pass and the exorcism to finish.
A substance like black smoke seeped out of the old woman’s pores, gathering as dark fog in the air. It took on the shape of a humanoid figure, vaguely feminine in shape, with two glowing white disks in place of eyes. It shuddered once, staring down at the host body it had just been forced out of, then whirled around to face Bithia. There was a moment’s pause as it attempted to vent its rage telepathically, but Bithia’s Force-voiding body blocked it so thoroughly, the
Shadow could only seethe in silence. At least, until it opened a portal and slipped away to the safety of its native Netherworld.
