Pocket Watch

Crimshaw looked out the driver side window, peering through the rain covered glass. The rain hadn’t stopped in days, most would call it a summer storm, but the two of them knew better. The Gentry was more in touch with earth than anyone else could hope to be.

“Think he’s in there?” Stilson asked, craning his head to look through the same window.

His partner brought his gaze from the outside world and looked down at the pocket watch in his hand. The second hand clicked in perfect tempo, marking the seconds of the waning day. “Not yet, but he will be.”

Stilson reached into his jacket pocket and felt for the familiar bump. Both there, he assured himself. They seemed inconspicuous, two small wood carvings. One was widdled into the shape of a wolf, while the other bared the resemblance of a man. He gripped them and started to retreive them from his pocket when a hand touched his shoulder.

“Not yet, those are for a rainy day.” He thought about what he said, and added, “The figurative varietal.”  He ducked down, craning his head so he could see up through the windshield. “The full moon is tonight, we need every advantage we can have against him.” Stilson nodded, and left the two totems there.

That was the catch, Stilson supposed. Two a human eye, the totems seemed like nothing. A couple of wood carvings, or in Crimshaw’s case, a mere pocket watch. That said, the Gentry would know them for what they were immediately. These were the only three he had seen since joining, he was hoping for more, but three in as many weeks on the job was still pretty good.

“Stilson.” His partner and mentor said to him.

“Yeah?” He looked at Crimshaw, who had his eyes glued to the old Victorian pocket watch in his hand. The needles on the watched had started to move with increased intensity, then decreased in speed; a sporadic tempo.   Then, in seconds, they began to blur, the sight made Stilson a little dizzy.

“You ready?” He asked him, now looking at Stilson.

“Yes.”

“The stank of Gilles and his Gentry are here.” He flipped his pocked watch closed then motioned to his breast, where the dockers clutch hung. “Silver?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Stick close, don’t brandish those totems till I give you the word, are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

Crimshaw looked at Stilson, nodded, and they both exited the car.