Ghost Light (Ivy Granger, Psychic Detective)

by E.J. Stevens

  I bit my lip and frowned. How did it all fit together? I knew that wisps, my kin, had enticed the fae children from their beds. In the case of the bean-tighe child’s abduction, Melusine had watched from the shadows as the child was lured outside. Once away from her parents, a mysterious piper had begun to play music that seemed to compel the child, and every rodent in the vicinity, to follow.

  Unfortunately, I had no way of knowing if Melusine or the piper’s involvement extended to all of the kidnappings or if their presence in this one case was coincidental. I needed more information and I was running out of time.

  I tilted my head up toward the third story window and sighed. I’d have to call Kaye and ask about any noteworthy fae musicians, but first I had a distraught fae family to question.

  I jumped up and caught the bottom rung of the fire escape with a gloved hand and pulled the ladder down. I climbed quickly, focusing on the ache in my shoulders and calves. If I didn’t think about the vision, maybe I could keep Melusine’s possible involvement from Ceff just a bit longer.

  At the top landing, I tapped on the window pane and waited. A wrinkled bean-tighe, wearing a tattered red shawl, which matched her rosy cheeks and red rimmed eyes, came to the window and pushed it open. She smiled weakly and waved me inside, shuffling back toward the kitchen in her house slippers. If she were human, I’d guess that she was in her late seventies, but after seeing the wrinkled and grey haired child, I knew this was the appearance of all bean-tighe. It was disconcerting, especially since most fae age so slowly.

  I followed the faerie into the kitchen where Ceff sat at a small table eating strawberry shortcake and talking with a second bean-tighe. Strawberries are a favorite of the bean-tighe and this family was no exception. Strawberry vines grew from pots on the window sill, painted strawberries adorned white cabinets and door casings, and a fluffy, red and green, knit strawberry cozy covered the tea pot in the center of the table.

  “Where are my manners?” said the bean-tighe who’d let me in. She’d started to take a seat, but jumped up and pulled another chair to the table. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  That’s the thing about faeries. They’re extremely polite, when they’re not trying to eat your face off.

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  I took the offered seat, but kept my hands in my lap. I would have preferred to stand, but the bean-tighe were each bent so far forward from dowager’s humps that I worried they’d strain something trying to meet my eyes. As it was, they had to tilt their heads uncomfortably to avoid staring at the table.

  “Myrtha and Glynda were just telling me about their daughter, Flynis,” Ceff said.

  He held out a sketch of a smiling bean-tighe child. All fae are careful not to be photographed in their true form, but paintings and sketches are allowed. The artist had captured the child perfectly. It was definitely the same girl from my vision.

  “She’s…lovely,” I said. “Um, does Flynis have any fae friends or teachers who are musicians? Or perhaps a neighbor who lives in your building? I’m looking for someone who may have been a witness the night she went missing. This person is skilled at playing a woodwind instrument, perhaps a flute, panpipes, or pennywhistle.”

  Myrtha frowned, brow furrowed and Glynda shook her head.

  “No, not that I know of,” Glynda said. “Can you think of anyone, Myrtha?”

  “Not a one,” Myrtha said.

  Oh well, it had been a long-shot.

  “Was there anything unusual about last night?” I asked. “Anything at all?”

  “We’ve been over the details so many times, but there’s nothing we can remember,” Glynda said. The teacup in her hand clattered against the saucer as her hand shook. Myrtha reached out and took her hand, holding it in her own. “It was such an ordinary night. We ate strawberry jam on toast with warm milk, just like we always do, and put Flynis to bed. We went to our room where Myrtha read and I worked on my knitting. I’m sorry. I wish I could remember something useful.”

  “That’s alright,” I said, standing. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  Ceff stood and thanked the bean-tighe for the shortcake and tea. As we left the kitchen, I looked back over my shoulder.

  “One more thing,” I said. “Do you have much trouble with rats in this part of the city?”

  Ceff raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask where my strange questions were coming from. Myrtha shook her head and Glynda let out a barking laugh.

  “Rats?” Glynda asked. “We keep a clean house, detective. There’s nothing for those vermin here, or in the alley below. There are much better places to find food in this city. If you’re looking for rats, check the docks.”

  It was true. The bean-tighe obviously used their brooms for more than flying. The rats had climbed up from the sewers, but why? I was afraid I was about to find out.

  Chapter 12

  I tried calling Kaye, but my witch friend was working in her spell kitchen and couldn’t be disturbed. I left a message with Arachne to have Kaye get back to me and ended the call. My phone displayed the current time as forty-five minutes past six o’clock. Crap, it was later than I thought. Sunset came early during the month of March. I couldn’t just wait around for Kaye to call me back. We were running out of daylight.

  I had a feeling that the mysterious piper was the key to solving the case, but I’d have to look elsewhere for answers. I jumped down from the fire escape, checked that my weapons were still in place, and hurried up Baker’s Row. Half a block away, Ceff caught up with me.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened back there?” he asked. “You were in that alley for nearly an hour.”

  Oberon’s eyes. My chest tightened and I swallowed hard. I’d been in the alley for an hour? That explained how it got so late. Lost time was a problem with visions, one of many.

  Ceff looked cool and relaxed, thumbs in his pants pockets as he strode next to me with fluid grace, but a muscle jumped in his cheek as he clenched his jaw. I shrugged and looked away.

  “I had a vision,” I said. “No big deal.”

  I snuck a glance at Ceff as he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He was trying to remain calm, but a vein twitched on his forehead, matching the muscle in his cheek.

  “What did you see?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  Unlike pureblood fae, I can tell a boldfaced lie, but neither my human nor fae blood helped to prevent the sinking feeling in my stomach. I didn’t like lying to Ceff, but I wanted to protect him from the truth of Melusine’s involvement as long as possible. If she was just a casual observer in the bean-tighe’s abduction, then there’d be no reason to tell Ceff at all. Why dredge up old pain unnecessarily?

  I bit my lip and kept my eyes on the street, looking for clues and potential threats. Ceff rushed me from the side and I barely had time to slide right and spin to face him. Ceff kept coming, his eyes a green so dark they looked black. I stepped away only to have my back hit a solid brick wall.

  I was so busy looking for threats in the shadowed doorways and dark alleys that I missed the one walking beside me. Ceff raised muscled arms and placed his hands flat against the wall to either side of my head.

  I was trapped.

  “You’re upset,” he said. He leaned in, his breath brushing my face. “Tell me.”

  We were standing so close, yet not touching. It was a near thing. I could feel the chill of Ceff’s kelpie skin like a balm against the burning heat emanating from my own. When had it gotten so hot?

  A bead of sweat trickled down my back, but I held perfectly still. If I moved a muscle, we’d be touching. In fact, if I shifted my hips, we’d be indecent. I blushed and Ceff’s eyes began to glow.

  “W…wh…at?” I asked.

  Ceff raised an eyebrow, a slow smile building. I licked my lips and tried to think. He had asked me something important, but I was too dizzy and light-headed to focus on the words. How could I possibly concentrate with Ceff standing so close?<
br />
  Ceff dipped his head to my ear and whispered. His breath against my neck sent shivers down my spine.

  “Now that I have your attention,” he said. “Tell me what you saw in your vision.” Ceff took one step back and lowered his arms. I gasped, trying hard not to shake. My feet didn’t know if they should run away or propel me into his arms. Fear and desire waged a war within me, rooting me in place. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.” I gazed into eyes that no longer glowed, but radiated concern. “You don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

  I held up my hands, palms out.

  “Okay, fine,” I said. “You win. But you’re not going to like it.”

  I slid down the wall and sat cross-legged, patting the ground beside me. It was a long story, might as well get comfortable.

  We sat on the sidewalk, oblivious to people walking by, as I filled Ceff in on the details of my vision. When I mentioned Melusine’s suspected involvement, he placed his head in his hands. I pretended not to notice. Discovering your murderous ex was in town is bad enough. Learning that she might have a hand in the abduction of dozens of fae children was a slap in the face. If Ceff needed some time to digest the information, then that was fine by me.

  I slid my phone from my pocket and checked for messages. There was nothing yet from Jinx or Kaye. I looked up to see Ceff staring at me intently. Dark rings circled his eyes, which made the skin looked bruised, but he didn’t look away.

  “If Melusine is involved, we must find the children,” he said. “She is capable of…she…”

  “I know,” I said softly. “We’ll find the kids. Come on. It’s time to ask a friend for some answers.”

  I stood and offered Ceff my hand. I was wearing thick leather gloves, but for me, it was more than a hand up. I was trying to bridge the gap between us. Ceff’s past and my allergy to intimacy didn’t have to ruin things.

  He accepted my hand, tilting his head to the side and flashing a wan smile. I lifted my chin high and smiled in return. If Melusine really was our enemy, it wouldn’t be easy. But together we could face anything, even Ceff’s evil ex.

  Chapter 13

  Ceff and I walked together, weaving through rush hour crowds heading home or out for a night on The Hill. I doubted any of the people around us shared our destination. We were on our way to church.

  We kept the steeple of Sacred Heart in sight and walked until the stone façade of the church loomed above us. The church sat on the highest point of Harborsmouth real estate. I could see fog rolling into the harbor below to the east, the result of fast dropping temperatures. The sun hadn’t fully set to the west, but lights were already twinkling on across the city.

  I took the stone steps two at a time and hurried inside, Ceff a steady presence at my back. We often came here for happier reasons, but tonight we needed answers and we needed them quickly. I only hoped that Father Michael could be made to hurry. The priest was a gifted scholar, but tended toward lengthy, enthusiastic rants when asked about supernatural history.

  I let my eyes adjust to the low light provided by two small lamps. One of the lamps had a flickering bulb that made our shadows dance along the narthex walls. It didn’t take long for my half-fae eyes to focus. As soon as I was sure I wouldn’t bang my shin on a stone bench or crack my head on a pillar, I hurried out of the lobby area and into the nave. As I suspected, the church was empty of parishioners. The only creature in sight was a sleeping unicorn.

  I sprinted down the center aisle toward the altar where Galliel was resting. Even in sleep, the unicorn gave off an unearthly light. I liked to think it was the shining purity of his heart, but don’t tell anyone I said that. Hanging around Galliel always turns me into a sap. Who knew my kryptonite would have doe eyes and gave wet nosed snuffles?

  Galliel cracked an eye open and chuffed happily as I knelt beside him. It always amazed me to see his white, marble body come to life. Galliel was beautiful, from his long flowing tail to the tip of the spiral horn on his head. He was also the closest thing I had to a pet.

  The unicorn raised his regal head, sniffed, and licked my face. I didn’t even flinch. Galliel was the one creature I wasn’t afraid to touch.

  “Glad to see you too, big guy,” I said.

  I smiled and handed him a sugar cube from my pocket. All fae like sweets and Galliel was no exception. He snarfed up the treat and chewed it noisily.

  “He’ll get fat, you keep feeding him like that,” Father Michael said.

  Father Michael harrumphed as he stood, appearing from where he’d been bent over behind a podium. The priest carried a stack of books and pamphlets, his glasses balanced precariously on the end of his nose.

  “Can unicorns become overweight?” Ceff asked. “I’ve never heard of an obese unicorn before.”

  “An intriguing notion,” Father Michael said. “It begs the question; do other fae gain weight while in horse form? I would rather like to know. I read a treatise once on kelpie anatomy, but the scribe’s penmanship left much to be desired. I’m sure you could assist with…”

  Mab’s bones, they had already started. It always began with an innocent question or remark from Ceff, whom Michael was entranced with, and then the mad priest would be off on a tirade of wild hypotheses and theories. Normally, I would ignore their conversation and sneak off with Galliel, but not tonight.

  The lives of dozens of fae children were at stake.

  “A study of fae anatomy will have to wait,” I said. I sighed, standing and walking away from Galliel. “This isn’t a social call. We’re on a case.”

  “It is true, Father,” Ceff said. “We are trying to locate over thirty missing children.”

  The priest fumbled with the books and pamphlets, setting them on a nearby pew. His hands fluttered to his head where they ran like spiders through thinning hair.

  “What can I do to assist in your search?” he asked. “You wouldn’t have come if you didn’t think I could be of help.”

  It was true. The purpose of my visit was information. I placed a hand on my stomach, wishing I could push away the guilt beginning to settle there. Asking others for help didn’t make me feel like much of a hero, but it was part of the job. Stomping through the case on my own would only get myself, or those kids, killed.

  “Yes,” I said, nodding. “I need to know everything you have on mass abductions of fae children and anything on a musician who can attract both people and rats with his music.”

  “Sounds like an enchanted instrument,” Father Michael said. He tilted his head to the side, tapping his chin. “Do you know what kind of instrument this musician plays?”

  “Woodwind,” I said. “A flute or panpipe, I think.”

  Father Michael took off in a flurry of long arms and legs, his robes flapping out behind him like wings. Ceff and I followed close on his heels. The priest led us to his study where he searched the shelves.

  He pulled down two large books, one a collection of Grimm’s Fairy Tales, and set them on his desk, pushing aside a pile of yellowed scrolls. Pages fluttered and the priest bobbed his head as he found what he was looking for.

  “See here, and here,” he said, pointing.

  The first book featured a painting of a man in traditional fool’s raiment playing a flute while children danced along behind him. The second book showed an engraving of dancing skeletons alongside a medieval painting of robed, religious figures dancing hand in hand with the dead.

  Cold fingers ran along my spine. Was there a connection between the dancing children and the dancing dead?

  “The Danse Macabre,” Ceff whispered.

  “Yes,” Father Michael said, head bobbing up and down. “The Danse Macabre, or Dance of Death, is a common motif found in many medieval churches and works of art. Some, like this engraving here, depict the dancing dead. While more often the works will show a circle of alternating live and dead dancers.”

  “What does that have to do with this musician?” I asked.

  “That, my de
ar, is The Pied Piper of Hamelin,” Father Michael said.

  The name vaguely rang a bell.

  “But The Piper is only legend,” Ceff said. “A fiction of the Brothers Grimm.”

  “Ah, you know more than most that there is often truth to be found in fairy tales,” Father Michael said. “Yes, many readers believe this to be only a cautionary tale, but for centuries scholars have found evidence of the true tragedy of Hamelin.”

  “Tragedy?” I asked. That didn’t sound good.

  “The story says that the town of Hamelin was overrun with rats,” he said. “The Pied Piper was hired to rid the town of the vermin. He used his flute to compel the rats into the river where they drowned. But when The Pied Piper returned to collect the agreed upon payment, the townspeople refused.”

  “A bargain was made,” Ceff said.

  “Yes, part of the cautionary tale,” Father Michael said. “People should always honor their side of a bargain.”

  My chest tightened at the mention of bargains. I’d made my share of bargains with more than one powerful fae. One day they’d come to collect.

  “Before The Pied Piper left Hamelin, he vowed to get his revenge,” Father Michael said. “Later that night, he returned while the townspeople were asleep in their beds. Again he played his flute, but this time he led away the city’s children, who were never to be seen again. At least, that’s how the fairytale goes.”

  “What really happened?” I asked.

  “Well, that is the matter of much debate,” he said. “There is evidence that the city of Hamelin truly did lose its children. A remnant of a document in the town records from the year 1384 states, ‘It has been 100 years since our children left.’ In addition to this document, there was a stained glass window in the Church of Hamelin that told the story, but it was destroyed in 1660.”