by C. S. Wilde
Mera let out a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.
Whoever is up there or in the trenches, thank you.
Stella returned with the bowl and handed it to her. “Eat as much as you can. The kind of healing I do recycles a lot of your own energy. That’s why you’re weak.”
“Thanks.” She sipped the soup. “How long was I down?”
“Two days,” Bast answered casually, and she nearly spit out the soup.
“Two days? Seriously?”
“Healing takes time and energy on both sides,” Stella explained. “Two days is normal, especially for a deadly wound. Besides, it took at least half a day for Bast to get you here.”
Mera frowned at him. “You did a day’s trip in half the time?”
“It was either that or let you die.” His shoulders rose and fell casually, as though his statement meant nothing.
“I fixed his wings once you were out of danger.” Stella tapped the top of her brother’s head with care. “They were such a mess. Clenched tendons, swollen muscles… a complete train wreck. No pun intended.”
Mera blinked at him, words failing her. “I can’t thank you enough, Bast.”
“You’re my partner, kitten. We’re supposed to take care of each other, right?”
Worry suddenly hit her like a wrecking ball. “Crap! Did you warn the Cap?”
“Of course I did. She wants you to call her.” He picked up Mera’s phone from a dresser near the bed and handed it to her. The fact she hadn’t lost it when all shit went to hell was nothing short of a miracle. “But finish your soup first.”
‘Yes, sir,’ her siren mocked.
Once Mera was done, she dialed in and put the call on speaker.
The Cap picked up on the first ring. She told Mera to be careful and trust no one, not even Bast. And yes, Ruth knew they were on speaker; she simply didn’t care.
She also told them that Bast’s decision to avoid hospitals had been smart, since whoever was behind the bounty could strike again, and Mera, being human, was an easy target.
She then pushed to know where they were, but Bast and Stella shook their heads hurriedly.
“Hmm, we’re safe,” Mera assured her.
“Fine, don’t tell me. Detective Dhay,” the Cap said, “I applaud your fast thinking, but if Detective Maurea had died, you and I would be having a very different conversation.”
“Yes, Captain.” He saluted her mockingly. Mera was glad Ruth couldn’t see him, or he’d be a dead fae.
“Cap, the witch mentioned a psychic who apparently saw Bast killing a male. We think the same male might have ordered the hit on him.”
Seers were a sham, any reasonable creature knew that.
Old hag Ursula had once foreseen Mera leading an army of Atlanteans into battle, but that was no vision, just a hallucination caused by the rotting algae she ate to “open a channel to the afterlife.”
Yes, ordering someone’s death because of a silly vision seemed extreme, but not impossible.
“People have murdered for less,” the Cap admitted from the other side. “It’s a solid theory. This could be the same person who killed Zev Ferris and Sara Hyland.”
“That’s possible,” Bast agreed, then winked at Mera. “If we catch them, we solve the case. And then, I’ll become your partner permanently.”
A void and butterflies both gnawed at her stomach. Mera didn’t know how to feel about that.
No more late nights working with Julian and ordering Chinese takeout. No more roaming the streets together and solving cases… Her chest ached, but a part of her looked forward to working with Bast. Which wasn’t fair or logical.
“Indeed, Detective Dhay,” Ruth went on from the other side. “Your captain told me he has scheduled a visit to the Summer King’s place in two days. Can you meet that deadline?”
“Yes,” Bast assured.
“Good. Stay sharp, you two. And, cookie—”
“I’ll be careful,” Mera promised.
The moment they hung up, Bast let go of the laugh he was holding. “Cookie?” He slapped his leg. “And you were giving me a hard time because I called you kitten!”
“It’s different,” she snapped. “The Cap raised me. You, on the other hand, I’ve known for two days.”
“Four.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You were unconscious, but it counts.”
Stella slapped the nape of Bast’s neck. “Don’t let him fool you, Mera. There’s a good fae underneath,” she motioned to him from head to toe, “this.”
Was there?
Mera remembered the cruel darkness that had taken hold of him, the ravenous monster that ached for violence.
Deciding to change the subject, she set her phone aside. “How was growing up with this douche, Stella?”
Bast and his sister exchanged a glance filled with sadness.
“It wasn’t easy, but not because of him.” Stella took the bowl from the bed and went to the kitchen.
Mera bit her bottom lip, wondering if she should ask what had been on her mind since meeting Bast’s sister. “Does it have anything to do with your ears?”
“She’s a halfling.” He crossed his arms. “Thanks for pointing out the obvious.”
“Bast,” Stella scolded him.
He was only being protective. It was kind of cute.
“I thought halflings were insanely powerful,” Mera confessed. “It’s the real reason why the light courts forbid fae mating with other magical creatures, right?”
Stella nodded from the kitchen, raising her arm. Thick, black fur grew atop it, and her fingers morphed into sharp claws.
Werewolf.
The shift lasted only a moment, and soon, Stella’s arm turned back to normal.
“Halflings may be incredibly powerful, but since Bock the Conqueror, in the twelfth century, none of us has actually displayed immense power,” Stella explained as she washed the bowl. “The light courts ignore the Agreement of Cordiality more out of prejudice than actual fear.” She closed the tap and dried the bowl. “The Night Court allows interracial mating, but cheating on your spouse is frowned upon. Which means bastards like me—”
“No.” Bast winced as if he’d tasted something bitter. “Don’t call yourself that.”
Stella turned to them and rolled her eyes. “—those like me are pariahs. Quite literally.”
“You don’t owe Mera an explanation,” he grumbled under his breath.
Stella walked to them, drying her hands on a kitchen cloth. “I want to tell her. I’m not ashamed of who I am, big brother.”
Oh, Mera really liked Stella.
She had a ton of questions, but figured she’d prodded enough. Besides, this seemed to be a touchy subject, especially for Bast.
“All right.” He stood and clapped his hands. “Let’s get going.”
“What? No!” Stella cried. “Mera, you’re still groggy from the magic I used to heal you. It can stupefy someone for weeks! I’m surprised you woke up so soon.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Bast assured with a wicked grin. “Besides, Mera is a tough cookie.”
Oh, she wanted to punch him in the face so hard.
Stella glared at Mera, silently asking for back up.
“I would love to stay,” and she truly would, “but we have a case to solve, and time is of the essence.”
Stella puffed air through her lips. “Fine. But you must take it easy for a while. No matter what this ass says.” She elbowed Bast’s ribs and he faked an “ouch!”
Mera nodded, holding down a chuckle. “I will. Thank you so much for your help, Stella.” She pushed herself to her feet way too quickly, nearly toppling over, but Bast caught her.
This seemed to be a habit for him.
Once again, here they were, stupidly close. His strong arm wrapped around her, pressing her against the side of his body, yet Mera pushed away. Bast was a living magnet, but she had to resist his pull.
“What’s the plan?” she finally asked once she
was certain she could stand on her own two feet without falling. “We lost our luggage and my gun.”
“No, we didn’t. I went back to fetch everything once Stella got you stable and healed my wings.” He nodded to the two duffel bags on the floor, near the feet of the bed.
Only then did Mera notice that Bast’s vest and shirt, which should have been riddled with her blood—and his—were completely clean.
She frowned at him. “You went back just because of the luggage?”
Hissing through his teeth, he scratched the nape of his neck. “I may have also gotten rid of the witch’s body.”
Mera gasped. “What?”
“Yeah. I told your Captain that I injured her, but she escaped.” His face crumpled in annoyance. “Oh, come on, kitten. Don’t look at me like that.”
“Hiding a body is illegal, Bast!”
“So is killing someone.”
“But you had to! You saved my life.”
Well, as far as he knew. Bast didn’t suspect Mera had the witch trapped under the macabre, and if it was up to her, he never would.
“Yes, I killed her to save you, but a kill is a kill. I would be stuck in hearings that would take forever, and the case would go cold.” He threw his hands up in the air. “You would love it, of course. You’re dying to get back to that partner of yours, but guess what? They would assign you to another fae, and trust me, you were lucky to get me.”
She stared at him, heart pounding in her ears. “It’s still wrong.”
This went against everything the Cap had taught her.
To protect and serve.
Not that the woman hadn’t bent the rules occasionally to help Mera, but there was a line.
She understood Bast, though. Hiding the body might not be the prettiest or most honorable decision, but the case came first, and the witch had already delayed them enough.
“Fine.” Mera pinched the bridge of her nose, knowing she had just turned into his accomplice. Concealment of a body. A good year in jail, at least. “You did what you had to do. But if someone’s after you, we’ll need to keep a low profile. So, where are we staying?”
Stella opened her mouth, probably to say they should stay there, but Mera wouldn’t have it.
“Absolutely not. If someone is after your brother, it means our presence puts you in danger.” She turned to Bast, who watched her with… pride? Adoration? She couldn’t really decipher him. “Where are we heading?”
A smile hooked on the left side of Stella’s cheek. “She’s as bad as you are, big brother.”
“She tries,” he taunted, his focus locked on Mera. “I know the perfect place, kitten.”
Chapter 9
Mera and Bast spent the entire day on bus and local train rides toward the outskirts of Tir Na Nog, and even though night had already fallen, they still hadn’t reached their destination.
The wooden bus they found themselves in was packed with lower fae Mera had only seen in books.
She and Bast had been sitting across from a grumpy troll for nearly an hour. He had lime-green skin and a long, hooked nose, and he busied himself with reading the newspaper. He also reeked of rotten eggs, which, according to Bast, was a big part of their diet.
Not far from them, a goblin with three horns atop his head chatted with a hairy pooka, with the face of a rabbit and the body of a monkey. They both wore black suits and driver’s caps, and Mera overheard the words “baku” and “ghalle.”
Bast had explained “baku” meant something like asshole or idiot, depending on the intonation. “Ghalle” might mean boss—if she remembered her lessons from school correctly.
She couldn’t hold back the smile that spread on her lips as she watched sprites gossiping eagerly in Faeish, and imps, with skin the color of dawn, working on crossword puzzles on the newspaper.
Right then, the fae and human worlds didn’t seem so different.
“Mahit’ na ke nua: Pat te, slums.” The muffled voice from the driver, a Sidhe with azure skin and black hair, resonated through thin air.
Slums?
Could it mean the same as it did in English?
“That’s our stop, kitten,” Bast whispered from beside her, and a certain dread filled Mera’s chest.
The bus soon came to a halt, and Bast and Mera pushed around the passengers to get off it. Once they stepped out, she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with fresh, crispy night air.
Say what you will about trolls and goblins, but they didn’t enjoy showering often, and it showed. Well, it smelled.
Two honks came from the bus, and Mera turned to watch the long wooden vehicle jerk back into movement. It drove away on its wooden wheels, entirely fueled by magic.
“Shall we?” Bast asked from behind her.
He led her to a small road that pierced through dense bushes, only to end in a vast square.
Mera’s jaw hung when she took in what had to be the slums of Tir Na Nog.
Dirt roads went into several directions up the mountain, edged by colorful makeshift houses that seemed to pile atop one another. Chiming music, different from anything she’d ever heard and yet oddly familiar, rang from everywhere as the scent of cooked meals spread in the air.
Warm lights that resembled billions of fireflies decorated the dirt paths and houses, hanging above lamp posts. This wasn’t magic, though. The lights were connected by plastic conduits that were nearly invisible against the dark of the night.
Electricity.
Tir Na Nog might vocally reject technology, but they certainly enjoyed it when necessary.
“Most houses in the slums have electric devices,” Bast explained as they followed one of the narrow paths up the mountain. “Lower fae don’t have enough magic to conserve food for long, and they can’t create fire with a simple thought, either. Most of them, such as ogres and trolls, also don’t have wings, which explains the buses.”
“You have wings, but we traveled by bus and train,” she countered mindlessly, observing the lively, colorful chaos around them.
He lifted his luggage and raised one eyebrow at her. “I’m not a beast of burden.”
“What a nice way of saying lazy.” Mera assessed their surroundings, feeling a lightness in her chest. “Electricity and public transportation in Tir Na Nog. It feels like a step forward, Bast.”
Even if the buses were made of wood and fueled by magic. Maybe one day, faeries would finally accept human technology.
One could dream.
“Glad you like it,” he offered as they continued.
They passed by a variety of lower fae who strolled around, while others chilled by the sidewalk with their families, or talked to each other eagerly. A group of banshees on the left sang songs and played guitars, while pooka children danced to the tune.
None of the lower fae cast a second glance at them as they went, which was odd since Bast was a Sidhe and Mera a human—by all accounts.
She did spot a handful of Sidhe as they went, though not many. Some were Winter fae with white hair and skin, while others belonged to the Night Court, with moon-silver hair and darker complexions.
The majority of the Sidhe she found, however, belonged to the light courts. Not that all fae looked the same, but a female with pink skin and yellow curls likely belonged to Spring. A hurrying male with a red mane and green eyes probably came from Autumn, and a boy with tanned skin and dark hair, yelling for his mother’s attention, surely must belong to Summer.
Granted, it was a biased way of seeing things. After all, Stella was a child of Night and had ebony hair.
She nodded to the Sidhe. “I figured most members of the courts lived in the center of the borough.”
Bast peered at them with a certain sorrow. “In a place with too many kings, no king stays in power for long.”
They passed a couple of humans—probably there illegally—but they also didn’t seem surprised to see them.
‘Maybe they think you’re Bast’s whore,’ her siren whispered. ‘You should play
the part.’
Mera ignored the bastard, continuing to follow the narrow dirt road that led to the upper parts of the mountain.
The chaos from the lower levels slowly waned, leaving Mera and Bast surrounded by a deep quiet as the electric fireflies shone across their path. They finally reached a brick house with a pointy roof that bent to the right. Mera remembered building a gingerbread house once with the Cap, but it’d come out crooked and with an uneven ceiling.
It looked awfully similar to that one.
As soon as Bast touched the wooden door with his palm, the entrance clicked open. He stepped aside to let her in first.
“It’s… peculiar.” Mera muttered as she entered the place.
The upper corners of the light blue walls were chipping, and she almost tripped over a broken floor tile. She couldn’t decide if the flooring was originally white or gray because of how dirty it looked.
The curtains framing the windows were tattered on the edges, like thousands of moths had chewed on them. The style of the open kitchen was a bit old, as in from fifty years ago, but at least the fridge and oven—both with ceramic doors and handles—appeared to be in working order.
Mera wondered if she should check the bathroom and bedroom, but decided not to proceed. For now, at least.
The wooden door creaked loudly when Bast closed it. He dropped his bag on the floor, spreading his arms wide. “Welcome to casa de Dhay.”
She glanced around. “Peachy.”
“I used this place as a hideout when I first arrived in the continent,” Bast said as he opened the windows, letting in fresh air. “I come here whenever I can. Especially when I don’t want to be found.”
Mera wondered why he’d needed a hideout in the first place, but decided not to ask. As she’d learned from Stella, Bast’s past could be a tricky subject.
“None of the fae seemed surprised to see a Sidhe with a human,” Mera noted instead, as she set her bag atop a brown leather couch that faced a coffee table.
Those were the only pieces of furniture in the living room, aside from a round dining table with two chairs near the kitchen. Unlike the rest of the house, the furniture looked new and well kept, so that was a plus.
