Ashes of Raging Water

by Michael J Allen

Caelum smiled and nodded. His grin drained away. “That’s not the world we live in. Guess I’m just stuck walking to Market with a pretty girl.”

  “You can always buy a convertible,” I said.

  “We talked about this, I’m just not suited to waiting in traffic.” He laughed. “This way I only suffer once in a while. We’re here.”

  I examined the little hole in the wall grocery store. “Seriously?”

  Caelum flashed me a smile. I followed him inside.

  An attractive young blonde beamed at Caelum. Her Russian-accented voice was almost as beautiful. “You’re Mister Caelum, da?”

  “Yes. Please tell your father we’re here, child.”

  Her smile soured when I stopped at Caelum’s side. “Who is this?”

  “My sister.”

  “Oh,” the cashier beamed. “I will fetch Papa.”

  “Friend of yours?” I asked.

  “Just a crush. She’s too young.”

  “For now.”

  Caelum shrugged.

  A man stepped out of the back. Grey frosted the spikes of his dark hair. He extended a hand to Caelum, and I noticed they shared height—though more muscles thickened the older man’s frame. A doubly thick accent made his words harder to understand. “Mister Caelum, it is good to see you. Who is with you?”

  “My sister. I thought you should meet. I may have to send her on occasion.”

  “Why not send her husband?”

  An exasperated sigh escaped Caelum. “If only she had one, Nicolas.”

  “I have many nephews,” Nicolas said.

  “You wouldn’t want her in the family.” Caelum flashed me a grin. “She’s kind of a wet blanket.”

  Nicolas rubbed his stubble. “You are sure? A good man can soften a shrew.”

  “I’m fine as I am,” I said.

  “I’ve come for another order,” Caelum said.

  “You are early. What do you do with all that sweet?”

  Caelum smiled. “Share it with the little folk.”

  The shopkeeper said something to his daughter in Russian then disappeared into the back. She crossed the shop to the dairy case, then frowned at Caelum. “You’re sure you want the soonest expired? It is a lot of milk.”

  “I go through it fast.” Caelum converted his hand truck onto four wheels for maximum cargo.

  She loaded two milk crates onto his cart. The beaming girl paid more attention to Caelum than the full and half gallons filling up the crates. Nicolas appeared, adding a dozen boxes of Bit-o-Honey candy bars. Caelum pressed six hundred-dollar bills into the man’s hand.

  “This is too much,” Nicolas frowned.

  “Stock up double for the next order. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”

  Nicolas scowled at the loaded cart. “I think you need a wife.”

  The girl brightened.

  “No time to discuss that today. Maybe next time.”

  “I doubt Caelum’s willing to settle on just one,” I added in a tart tone.

  The girl frowned.

  Caelum shared an earthy smile with Nicolas and led the way outside. He turned up the street in the general direction of the congress center. The heavy cart rolled across uneven sidewalk. I managed to catch the cart the first time a corner ramp tried to spill the load.

  “Thanks,” Caelum said. “No matter how diligent I stay, I always end up nearly spilling the load.”

  “How often do you do this?” I asked.

  His expression grew sly. “Only when necessary.”

  “Nicolas knew you pretty well.”

  “I visit the Market often, okay?”

  “I’m not Vitae.”

  We continued on in silence.

  Sidewalk artists and wandering wafers eyed our load and clothes with undisguised curiosity. He led me across the complex. A sweet lilt of growing things spiced the breeze. A sideways glance spotted Caelum’s nose raised and eyes closed in pleasure.

  I inhaled more deeply.

  Don’t have to be an earth phoenix to enjoy nature’s scent on the wind.

  Caelum brought us to a halt in front of a wide fountain just east of the Georgia Dome. I studied our destination. The center of the fountain was dominated by a statue of an impossibly agile man—particularly considering some of his stone attributes. He vaulted a stone ring like a gymnast’s horse. At the fountain’s base, a plaque named the statue, ‘The Flair.’

  “This is the entrance to the Goblin Market?” I asked.

  “Yeah, the faerie like this statue enough to make it a semi-permanent door that opens if you know the magic words.” Caelum flashed me a grin and cleared his throat. “I’ve got candy.”

  A psychedelic swirl of LSD inspired colors filled the ring. A wooden gangplank followed, sliding out across the fountain’s top.

  Caelum beamed at me. “Hold your breath, make a wish, count to three...”

  He pulled our cart up the ramp and into the Goblin Market.

  Bradley

  Junior assistant coroner Bradley Sky hummed over the corpse on his table.

  Bite wounds covered the animal shelter worker delivered that morning. He frowned at the body, sure he’d seen something similar but unable to dig out the memory.

  He tapped the mute button on his headset. “Wake up. Desiccation around subject’s bite wounds seems to have deteriorated abnormally fast. Discoloration suggests disease, but no disease I know of works so quickly—certainly not in a body without a functioning circulatory system.”

  Bradley frowned at the body. Something about the body felt off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Wound may have been contaminated by animal remains or some pathogen therein.”

  The door opened. A very attractive woman in professional attire strolled inside. Her eyes swept the room, taking in everything through oval spectacles.

  Well, hello.

  Bradley smiled. “Go to sleep.”

  “Pardon?” She asked.

  He tapped his headset, activating the mute. “Can I help you?”

  Her eyes locked on him with an almost physical grip. “I need your report.”

  “Sure, which one? Who are you again?”

  Her expression darkened, accentuating the faint red highlights in her dark hair. “Detective Foxner, remember? I’m waiting on your examination results from those strange body parts.”

  He frowned. “What strange body parts?”

  “From the Humane Society,” Foxner said.

  He knit his brows together. “From this morning? I haven’t finished yet.”

  “No,” she snapped. She visibly relaxed, dug into her case and pushed papers into his face. “No, Doctor. The Howell Mill break in, day before yesterday.”

  A spectral thought almost solidified before fleeing. “I don’t remember getting anything from another animal shelter, and I think something like strange bodies from two shelters inside a week would stay with me.”

  “Another shelter got broken into?” Foxner asked.

  He frowned at her. “Not that I know of, but this guy’s nametag says he works at a no-kill shelter in DeKalb. Time of death is early this morning, but these wounds...I mean look at them. They look weeks along.”

  “You probably shouldn’t sound so excited.”

  He shrugged. “He’s just meat and a mystery.”

  Foxner darkened.

  “Hey, they taught us to remain detached.”

  “As opposed to giddy?” Foxner asked.

  “I love what I do. I get to solve mysteries without criminals shooting at me, and I can’t do too much damage, so my malpractice premiums aren’t as high.” Bradley pointed at the corpse. “This one’s a puzzler. I live for the weird stuff.”

  “No doubt.” Foxner tapped the paper. “That is your signature, isn’t it?”

  He glanced at the large sweeping strokes. “Huh. I don’t remember signing that, but yeah, that is my signature.”

  “Quite the puzzler.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How can you
not remember? It was only a few days ago. You blathered on and on about trolls and movies.”

  “Trolls?” Bradley shrugged. “I’m sorry, detective, I just don’t remember.”

  Foxner wrinkled her nose. “Blaming the fumes?”

  He chuckled. “Give me a minute to check the slabs.”

  Bradley opened drawer after drawer, cabinet after cabinet. Something like an itch he couldn’t reach scratched at the back of his recollection, but both his memory and Basement E remained empty of the evidence logged in under his signature. He scratched his head. “I can’t remember signing for any of that, and it isn’t here. I wish I could tell you something different.”

  She scowled, digging into her case once more. She handed him an evidence bag containing a bone dagger and a whole bone. She handed it over with another set of paperwork. “This ended up at my precinct by mistake.”

  Bradley signed the evidence transfer and frowned at the bag.

  “Don’t lose it.” Foxner whirled.

  “Detective? This says: bone weapon, two pieces.”

  “There’s two pieces in there,” Foxner said.

  “Two whole pieces and there seems to be some biological material on it. Shouldn’t that be on the description?” Bradley asked.

  “Obviously, people make mistakes.”

  Bradley scratched his head. “Yeah, about that, can I take you out to dinner to make up in some way?”

  “Just don’t lose this,” Foxner said. “And get me an analysis...fast.”

  “Are you sure—”

  “Doctor, you’re not my type.”

  He blinked. “What type aren’t I?”

  “Female.” She glowered at him, practically daring him to comment.

  “Well, you’ve got me there.” He patted the bag. “I’ll get right on this.”

  A smile slowly filled her face. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  14: Goblin Market Rewards

  Quayla

  Color exploded in every direction, spinning gossamer walkways five stories high. Silk and finer fabrics formed gangways and hammocks, shops and bowers suspended in a handful of millennia-old trees. Sprites chained to one another by spider silk lit the walks in fluttering lines. Musical whistles rose and fell in the distance.

  Three gruff voices spoke in unison. “Pay the toll.”

  A satyr-like creature and his two larger brothers all extended hands.

  “Toll?” I asked.

  Caelum held up a hand to forestall me and handed three candy bars to each. Their gruff billy goat features transformed into the youthful delight typical of billy kids. He smiled encouragement back at me, but the encounter left me frowning.

  He led me to one side. “What is it?”

  “There’s never been a toll before.” I gestured upward. “And sure, the Market changes, but it’s never looked like this. How do we even get up there?”

  “Vitae’s kept you on too tight a leash,” Caelum said.

  “Not the way he tells it.”

  “Let me guess, on your past visits the Market looked like a weekend swap meet decorated by some bigwig’s no-talent, color-blind mistress?”

  “Yeah.”

  He patted my shoulder.

  I slapped his hand away. “Don’t condescend to me.”

  Caelum held up both hands. “Isn’t water supposed to be calm, easy going?”

  I glared and tapped a foot.

  “Right, we’re enjoying a whitewater, raging waterfall kind of day. You only saw the tourist version.” Caelum swept the scene with a hand. “This is the real Goblin Market where natives come to play. It doesn’t offer the same protections to visitors, so rein in that temper and remember to keep things calm and polite.”

  “How did you get in here then?”

  He waggled a candy bar. “I’m a charming soul.”

  “You bribed your way in.”

  “We are talking about faeries here. The lesser Sidhe have no easy way to get into Creation. They live for experiences and making deals. I bring some of those things into their reach.”

  “All right, mister smarty pants, how do we get up there? Climb a tree?”

  He rolled his eyes. “So gauche.”

  “Well?”

  Caelum patted his pockets, turning the exercise into something of an amateur magic show. When my expression promised an imminent tsunami, he withdrew a silk handkerchief from his back pocket. He unfolded it once, twice, a dozen times until it reached the size of a small area rug. The silk carpet shimmered in a constantly changing rainbow, gathering the colors around it like a greedy toddler and swirling them around before seizing the next. He rolled the cart onto it and took a seat. “Coming?”

  “On that flimsy thing?”

  “Silk might look pretty and delicate, but it’s actually quite tough.” He beamed. “Like me.”

  I folded my arms.

  A thought widened his smile. He leapt to his feet and extended a hand. “Do you trust me?”

  I knocked away his hand and seated myself on the carpet. “You watch too many Seelie movies.”

  Caelum laughed. He settled into his seat and whistled. The ether-silk rectangle rose at his command, changing directions as Caelum changed tones.

  We floated among merchants hawking wares or themselves in equally persuasive tones. I scanned the shops, searching out Ralein.

  Will he even be here? What if he only sells to tourists?

  A first-tier shop offered an army of knee-high versions of Cousin It all lined up on wooden shelves braced against a tree trunk. Each rank seemed shelved by hair color in ascending heights without regard to fat or skinny. A half-elf—a half-sized miniature of larger elves—appeared almost at once, decked out in white and silver silks.

  “Shield Caelum, it is good to see you again. I trust your apartment is tidy to your satisfaction?”

  “It is, Oshyn.”

  “You let brownies clean your apartment?” I gasped.

  “I assure you, we do a first-rate job, Shield Aquaylae,” Oshyn said.

  “How do you know my name?” I asked.

  “Being acquainted with those assigned to the Shields near all the Market entrances is good business,” Oshyn quieted the tittering brownies. “Besides, the way Grynnberry tells it, you could use our services—particularly in your bedroom.”

  I darkened.

  Grynnberry and I are going to talk.

  Caelum pushed two gallons of milk at the half-elf. “For an introductory cleaning of Quayla’s place.”

  “I don’t want them cleaning my apartment, besides how would I explain that to Dylan?”

  “Your mortal paramour would never see us,” Oshyn said.

  “Exactly,” I said. “He’d think I was sick or having an affair.”

  “Or he’d expect you to clean up more often,” Caelum added.

  I was already on thin ice. While Sidhe like Grynnberry were happy to trade intelligence for little pay outs rather than causing genuine mischief to the wafers, I didn’t know Oshyn or his brownies. “Thanks, but still, no thanks.”

  Hairy shoulders fell like an inverse wave.

  “Fine, keep the milk. A gift to the crew for all their good work.”

  The brownies perked up, but Oshyn’s expression grew fearful. “Shield Caelum, a gift—”

  Caelum held up his hands. “You’re right, but perhaps a trade?”

  Oshyn relaxed. “A barter, yes, advance payment for—”

  “Actually, we need a little coin of the realm,” Caelum countered.

  “And some information about the animal abductions,” I said.

  Caelum and Oshyn both frowned.

  Oshyn turned his body to exclude me from their conversation. “Blood, berries, dust, or...gold perchance?”

  Caelum laughed. “Do I look like a peapod pixie to you?”

  “Shield Caelum has proven himself as shrewd as he is generous.”

  “All the above—except keep the gold and add some magic?”

  Oshyn eyed the cart. “I ca
nnot provide trade for so much treasure.”

  “Start with the milk—not including the two gallons negotiating advance.”

  Oshyn stroked his ears in turn. “Yes. I can part with a little of each but must keep some for trading.”

  “Excellent.” Caelum flashed me a smile.

  Quayla

  I perused a pouch filled with loose berries and crystalized spider silk balls. “But you paid for the milk and candy.”

  “I still have most of the candy,” Caelum resumed whistling at a different octave. The carpet banked a steep leftward spiral ascent. “The milk isn’t that expensive.”

  I eyed the little containers filled with blood—hopefully faerie blood, pixie dust, and throbbing magic. “Where are we going?”

  “The place for making deals.”

  “I thought we’d run through the market. They might be selling the animals.”

  “This is better.”

  “We’re going to a bar, aren’t we?”

  “Like I said, better.”

  Above the silken catwalks, the venerable branches cradled a palatial wooden tavern. A sign swung before the entrance, displaying pixies in their cups—literally. Their carpet orbited the spacious tavern. Table-crowded balconies filled with faerie folk. Seelie occupied the eastern terraces, and Unseelie crowded the west. Behind the tavern, a deck, half the size of either balcony, teemed to overflowing with small tables crowded by Wyldfae.

  I pointed. “Down there.”

  Caelum shook his head. “That’s not the best way to get what we need.”

  “What’s wrong with the direct approach?”

  “Once you’ve had more experience, you’ll see that the obvious path isn’t the path of least resistance when dealing with the faerie.”

  I’m not much older than he is.

  I shot him a dirty look. “Fine, where do we start?”

  Caelum landed us on the tavern’s doorstep, pulled the cart to one side and folded up our transport. “The faerie courts are like siblings. If you want dirt on one, you just tempt the others to tattle.”

  “But they’re just going to lie to us.”

  “You know they say the faerie cannot lie,” he smiled.

  I snorted. “Not directly.”

  “Right, so our job is to trade drinks for lies, then cross reference them for the truth we need. Simple enough.”

  “If your mind twists like a tornado.”