Chapter 2

The News Stand really should have been renamed 'The Community Center' Mike always thought. In the seven years that he had 'grown up' running it with his father, he'd watched the life of this local district revolve around it and the coffee shop-bakery next door, like the planets revolve around the Sun. You could set your watch at 4:00 A.M. by Angelo Catrella arriving to start the day's baking and Mike would have sworn he'd heard "Time to Make the Donuts" mumbled at least once or twice through the years.

If you wanted to know about anything going on in the neighborhood that was the place to check. Everything wound up there sooner or later: from lost tourists looking for a map, to local Police Detectives hunting for a lead.

As an added bonus. It also became known as one of the safest places in the entire downtown Chicago area. This was due to the area gangbangers and the underworld crews giving the place a very wide berth. Especially after every incursion - no matter how small - wound up in the harbor and after surfacing, began swimming for shore with not a clue what had happened to them.

The record for one day multiple dunkings stood at three, and was currently held by one Anthony Louis Salvonii. Everyone that knew how these cannonballs had been accomplished was fairly sure that record would stand for some time. They just couldn't imagine anyone else being quite that stupid. Racketeering in other parts of the city was so much easier and much, much safer.

The dress code for evil in any form seemed to be water wings and was rigorously enforced. Even Insurers had taken notice, with casualty rates for a seven block radius hovering about thirty percent lower than comparable rates elsewhere in the City.

Predators tended to be very short lived there also, no matter what kind they were. They just simply disappeared and water wings were not included in their vacation packages. So far, none had shown the ability to cover the twenty miles to shore in any direction, and the scavengers living on Lake Michigan's bottom were getting down-right fat.

Drug dealers trying to open new territory were guaranteed to be hung by their thumbs from police station flagpoles. While at the same time -they auditioned for the Joliet Choir - with their wares dangling just below their feet. Local Police even nicknamed this phenomenon 'Cherry Picking' and relished it immensely.

What was not quite as visible to the ordinary citizen, but just as real, were the comings and goings of the 'Little Folk'. Though mostly ignored by the human population, those with the senses were very aware of them.

Most people hadn't the slightest hint of the Mer Folk Colony in Lake Michigan, or the Dwarven Clan living below the city. Nor the families of Fairies & Sprites scattered through their neighborhoods and keeping the rodent populations in check. Just as none but the Master Mage had the slightest clue that the entrance to an Elfrealm was located in Grant Park.

Tuesday 4:45 A.M. W. Van Buren St. & Wabash Ave.

Grabbing Angelo's Sun Times Morning Edition, Mike drifted over to the delivery entrance of the bakery preparing for the morning's ritual exchange. It still struck him as a dirt cheap price for a cup of the best coffee in the City. The aroma that greeted his nose was like the caress of a long lost lover and he stood entranced for a moment, leaning into it to savor it in full.

"Angelo, I swear you use magic to brew coffee like that!!" Mike shouted, over the noise of the dough mixer.

"No, mi amigo. It's all in the beans." replied Angelo, with a wink and that 'I-know-something-you-don't' grin spread all over his face.

"Yeah, sure it is, you kidder. Hey, you feel anything weird on the way in this morning?" asked Mike.

"No, nothing except a -'Something-Walked-Over-My-Grave Chill'- around Lasalle Station. But, who knows what that was. Not like it was carrying a sign -"'Smith, Party of Four'-" came Angelo's reply.

"OK bud, I'd better get back to the salt mine. Thanks again for the ambrosia." Mike tossed over his shoulder, while raising the coffee in salute on his way out the door.

Mike decided that with Angelo's confirmation a short council meeting was definitely called for. Figuring that Pop could watch the stand for a bit when he got in at 7:00, he shot a message off to all the tribal and clan leaders to assemble at the Grant Park Portal around 7:15. 'Might as well hold this pow-wow Underhill, ' he reasoned, 'that way I can get back here about ten minutes after I leave no matter how long the actual meeting takes.'

The time dilation between worlds still amazed him on occasion.