by J. L. Ray
Phil got a funny look on his face. He opened his mouth several times and started to say something, but nothing came out.
“It looks like you are ready to let this relationship end before it even begins over some weird feud, so fine. Whatever. We’re done,” she added vehemently as Phil held onto her shoulder even harder when she started to turn to go.
“How sad!” A voice behind her trilled in a pitch high enough to make dolphins cringe in agony, and suddenly, Phil dropped his hands from Tony. “How the mighty Mephistopheles has fallen.”
Tony turned to see Glinda, who had dressed in modern clothing for a change, though one might question the appropriateness of a silver, sequined club dress, cut seven inches above the knee and barely boasting enough material on top, front and back, to pass for a handkerchief. Standing three inches taller than her normal height because of a pair of strappy platform silver stilettos, Glinda slinked over to stand close to Phil.
“Poor Mephistopheles,” she crooned as she edged in between the couple so adroitly that it felt almost like magic. “I could have told you that my little sister is a bit of a tease,” she said, stroking one hand up Phil’s arm as she leaned in against him.
Before Phil could protest, Tony hissed, “Stop calling me your little sister, Glinda. It’s kind of creepy.”
Glinda giggled and looked around. “Mustn’t let Detective de Groot hear, either, must we?” She gave Phil an arch look. “He’s not very fond of witches...or demons for that matter, though with good reason, no doubt.”
Though she was trying to push a wedge between the two, her comment piqued Tony’s interest.
“What do you know about the problem between de Groot and Phil?” she asked Glinda, as casually as she could. Phil tried not to cheer. Now this was his Tony the detective. While he was under a five hundred year old compulsion spell, nothing prevented Glinda from telling the story.
Unfortunately, though Glinda could tell the story, she wouldn’t—not if it helped bring him and Tony together. She looked slyly at each one and then laughed a tinkling trill that felt like nothing merry. She rubbed against Mephistopheles like a cat marking her territory and said, “Oh, I know a bit of this and a bit of that.” She looked over at Tony. “I know that you will never get the full story from Mephistopheles...” She winked at him and added for Tony’s ears, “And if that is important to you, then you may have to move on to a new someone who doesn’t chew with his mouth open.”
Phil looked down his nose at Glinda, who seemed to be doing her best to do her worst to him. “And who will ever hear your full story, Glinda the ‘Good’?” he asked, sarcasm dripping as he gave her the title by which she had been known in the Fairie Realms. “I can tell that story. Shall I?”
He turned to Tony as if to speak and Glinda squeaked. “No...I...No, I beg of you.”
He turned back to Glinda, whose hand on his arm now plucked and pleaded, begging attention of a different kind.
Phil stared at Glinda, then looked at Tony, who did not look pleased with him. Despite Glinda’s attempts to needle Tony, she didn’t seem like she wanted Glinda humiliated. Phil nodded, and Glinda stopped prodding him, relieved.
Tony had watched this interplay, ready to leave each second and yet unable to walk away from the conversation. But now, she put her hands up and waved them both off, “I’m going back to work. You two do…” she paused and frowned at them, “whatever you want. Really. I don’t care.” With that she walked out of the room and back to the detectives’ desk area and Cal.
Phil looked through the doorway and saw her walk up to Cal, who laughed at something she said and tried to hand her the baby. Newman, even that young, was almost more than she could hold while standing, and she sat down in her chair while Cal carefully settled the baby in her arms. She sat, looking down into his face and saying something that caused her to make funny faces as she talked. Newman laughed and threw out his hands, popping her in the nose. She reared back a bit, and Phil almost ran over to see if she was okay, but a slim, silver tipped-hand on his arm stopped him.
“Tread carefully, Mephistopheles,” whispered Glinda, no malice in her voice. “I know this woman, and you will need to be very sure before you get in too deep. I don’t think she will be with you in the long run.”
He turned back to her and whispered viciously, “Advice from you on romantic affairs? That is a bit rich, is it not?”
Her voice shifted back to its normal, insolent playfulness as she answered him. “No more than seeing you, so certain that you have found the One in your life. How many times has that happened, Mephistopheles? How many times have you discovered that you know everyone’s deepest desires but your own?”
Glinda’s comment slid into his heart like an arrow’s shaft, and he took a step back from her.
“I hope you are not too disappointed if I say that I hope never to lay eyes on you again,” he told her and then walked back into the room and over to Cal and the baby. Newman spotted him on the way and started bouncing in Tony’s arms as if trying to launch himself at Phil. As he walked across the floor, Phil decided that if he could not get Tony to realize he was bespelled, perhaps he could goad the Bear into the one action that could save them all from the heartache that Baz seemed intent on sharing. One little action, and all of them could be happy. Phil stood for a moment looking at Tony and Newman and straightened his shoulders. He had to try.
Glinda, glanced in at the scene before her, snorted, and narrowed her eyes. Her Mistress might think She had a foolproof plan, but there was no fool like a fool in love. Glinda very much feared that Phil might be the unforeseen circumstance that could ruin years of preparation. She toyed with the idea of telling the Mistress about this potential issue, but in the end, her own attraction to Mephistopheles kept her from contacting Herself. Glinda knew that Her reaction would ruin any future plans she had for the demon. “Enjoy your little foray into Fantasyland, Mephistopheles,” she murmured to herself. “But I predict an unhappy ending, for all of you.” She smiled. “For now, at least.” Glinda had considered telling Tony about the plans, especially once she heard about Tony’s connection to the Mistress’ Weapon. But when she realized that Mephistopheles still desired the Natty detective, Glinda decided that the prudent option was to follow her Mistress. Once that stupid Tony was gone, Mephistopheles would need someone to pick up the pieces of his heart, and Glinda would be first in line. It would be a New World then.
Tooley walked behind his captor, desperately trying to keep his eyes on the floor in front of him and not on the hypnotic sway of her hips. It would have helped if she had dressed before they went downstairs, but she was still just barely wrapped in the thin robe. He put his hands behind his back and grabbed his left hand with his right to control the urge to reach out and touch her. His forehead was bathed in sweat from the effort. If it weren’t so appalling a violation of a Being’s freewill, he would have been admiring the strength and efficacy of such a spell. As it was, he wondered if, in the same way that he was a male witch and not a crazy male wizard, perhaps she might be a crazy female wizard instead of a female witch. Those were supposed to be a myth, but then, so was he. Still, it was the only explanation he could find for the ability to invoke so fearful a spell and the moral deficit to follow up on it and violate another Being so thoroughly. Wizards weren’t just crazy. They were crazy powerful. He also worried if eventually his own mind and personality might be subsumed by the spell, and he would cease to question his own actions and simply do whatever she wanted in order to have access to her silky flesh. He groaned out loud.
“I know, my pet, I know,” she giggled in front of him without looking back. “It seems like hours since the last time we made love, but you will have to be patient, now and again. We have things to do...other than each other.”
She giggled again and he simultaneously felt both desire and the urge to vomit. And suddenly he felt just a little bit of hope. If he was that upset at her comments, enough to have a physically negative respons
e, then perhaps his magic was fighting free of her spell. Perhaps he could beat this after all. He clenched his hands tighter.
They had paced down the hall that connected Winkowski’s living quarters to her shop, and as they had walked, Tooley realized that her bedroom itself was spelled. There wasn’t enough physical room in the strip mall for that area to exist, and he knew that Mundane rules about residence and commercial property would have prohibited this set up. With every step they took away from the room his assault had occurred in, he felt the spell weaken just a bit. His hope to escape increased as they stopped in front of what proved to be Winkowski’s office behind the main sales area of the shop. The scent of patchouli overwhelmed his nose, making him sneeze violently, several times in a row.
“Awful, isn’t it?” Crystal said as she walked over to the three wooden crates he had brought her from Fairie. “The kinds of Natties who frequent shops like Crystal’s Veil do seem to expect patchouli.” She had turned to a large ebony desk behind those crates and begun searching around it, looking for something. Finally, she found it—a crowbar. She turned to Tooley. “I do love to give people exactly…” she walked closer to him, holding the crowbar in her right hand and slapping it in her left, “what…” she slapped it again, “they…” she smiled at him evilly and finished, “want.”
He couldn’t seem to move and was about to drop in a faint, all at the same time. She was done with him and going to kill him. He could see it in her eyes. They lacked any hint of sanity whatsoever. But as she finished her comment, she pulled out his right hand and dropped the crowbar into it.
When he dropped his jaw and looked at her, she asked him, “You don’t expect me to pry open those wooden crates, do you?” She looked down at her perfect manicure, nails painted a deep blood red that matched her luscious, horrible lips. “I might break a nail, silly. Now be a good pet and open my boxes for me.”
“Which...which one first?” he asked her.
“Open the small one first,” she told him. “I like to make surprises last!”
Chapter Thirteen
Phil stood by Tony, who suddenly found that holding a bouncy baby ogre was infinitely more challenging than holding a sleepy baby ogre.
Ignoring Phil’s presence, Tony nodded her chin at Cal. “Get over here and take this baby! He’s trying to fly and I may not be able to stop him.”
“Ah, he’s just happy to see his Uncle Phil,” Cal rumbled as he plucked Newman out of a stunned Tony’s arms and turned around to plop him in Phil’s.
“Uncle Phil?” The palpable sarcasm in Tony’s voice made Cal pause.
“Well, yeah!” He patted Phil on the back, which came close to knocking him and Newman over, but Phil caught his balance at the last minute. “These two spent some serious quality time together last night.”
“Apparently, quality time translates to time spent having liquids projected at one,” Phil commented in general, unsure how to act around Tony at the moment.
“He was just breaking you in—y’know, making sure you know the ropes in case you want to babysit some time.”
Phil nodded, adding drily, “Should the urge overcome me, I shall try to fight it off. And if I fail, you’ll be the first to know.”
Cal laughed, and by ignoring the tension between the two, he managed to ease it a bit. As upset as he had been over Phil’s initial interest in Tony, he was just as certain now that the two belonged together, and Sweet B agreed, so he planned to do whatever he could to help those two deal with this problem.
Tony sat, watching Phil bounce Newman.
“You are quite heavy, you know.” Newman grabbed Phil’s nose. “Yes, that is my nose. I saw you punch your Aunt Tony in her nose. Take care to avoid doing that to me, Newman. I will not tolerate being punched, at least not by a newborn.” Newman pulled his hand away from Phil’s nose, instead slapping his hands together. Phil turned his head to Tony while keeping a wary eye on flailing ogre hands, “I take it that the ogre spawn punch did not lead to serious consequences?”
Tony had no intention of answering, so when the silence dragged a little long, Cal jumped in.
“Looks like no harm done to me.” He nodded at Tony. “You’ll want to watch out, though, when he’s a couple months older. It won’t take too long for him to pack a wallop!” He chuckled, rattling various metal items on the desks. “All my spawn matured physically a bit early.”
“Good to know,” Tony told him, making a point of being as friendly to Cal as she was icy to Phil.
Just as the silence became pronounced enough to be uncomfortable again, Azeem buzzed the detectives’ f-lights. “Come to the office.”
“Yes, sir,” Tony answered for herself and Cal.
“Bring Mephistopheles.”
Tony grimaced as Cal responded, “Yes, sir.”
She squared her shoulders and stood, ignoring both Phil and Cal as she walked back to the lieutenant’s office. Phil handed Newman to Cal, who placed him in the carriage and turned it around. They walked back to the office together.
Baz surprised the three by seeming calmer than a dressing down should have made him. Other than shooting Phil a dirty look when he came back into the room, Baz simply ignored him. After everyone was seated, the Changeling got a nod from Azeem and turned and looked at Phil. “I apologize for my response to your offer of assistance,” he told Phil. The words were contrite. The tone was blank of any emotion, robbing the apology of most of its impact. Nevertheless, it was certainly unexpected.
Phil clearly didn’t know what to say. Tony almost smiled when his jaw dropped. It was just a little drop, and it didn’t last long, but it was nice to see Mephistopheles experience a little shock for a change.
Phil pulled himself together and said, “I...appreciate the gesture. I will assist the police in any way I can.” The latter was directed to everyone, but Tony narrowed her eyes at him as she listened for subtext. His guileless expression suggested nothing but an earnest desire to help, but she could see his lips fighting the urge to grin at her.
“Good, good.” Azeem all but purred. “That’s good. Now, let me tell you all why I have asked Cal to come into this project when he should be on leave, as well as Mephistopheles, who will now have to go on record as an official police consultant.”
“Why must I be…official?” Phil asked mildly.
“I got away with sending you out once without paperwork,” Azeem commented. “The PTB monitors SCIB reports for potential Supernatural employee abuse. Apparently, I have to pay you to use you in official investigations if I do it more than once.” He shrugged. “I knew this, of course. However, it didn’t occur to me to pay you as I would with some down-on-its-luck kobold or gnome.”
“Do not worry—I shall donate it to the local chapter of the United Realms Foundation. Then perhaps it will go to some, er, down-on-its-luck gnome.” Phil looked virtuous enough to make Tony roll her eyes and Baz grind his large teeth.
“Good, very good.” Azeem paused, then began again. “Until about a year ago, the Fairie ring that we are tracking now was trafficking in minor magical artifacts, the kind of thing any hedgewitch in Fairie could cobble together. They began trading more potent items—”
Tony broke in. “Like the cross that helped create the vampire we caught?” She looked at Phil and then looked away, remembering that she wasn’t talking to him. In doing so, she missed his pleased smile at her slip.
“Yes,” the Lieutenant continued. “That cross and other more potent artifacts started coming in. But far more disturbing has been a recent discovery, the rise in illegal Changeling crossings.”
For the second time in a few minutes, Phil look shocked. “The Geas is not set to deal with such things?”
“The crossings are not apparently registering with the Geas,” Azeem replied. “It is supposed to register all crossings since all crossings by Supers should only be possible through the legal portals, and Tempos only work for Natties. But there seems to be a problem. Supers are getting across s
omehow. The GOOEN squad is reviewing the base spell of the Geas with the PTB because clear intent, for good or ill, should be enough to trigger the Geas to react, even though the spell’s main effects are only on this side of the Realms.”
“What about Sammeal? And Naamah?” Tony asked.
“Who are they?” Baz asked.
“Our last case,” Cal answered. “Tony and Phil had to go to Fairie to question suspects in a murder. Naamah was one of them and Sammeal was another.”
When Baz shrugged, not recognizing the names, Phil pointed out, “Naamah has been off the radar as one of the four queens of the Christian Hell for far longer than de Groot has lived. There is no reason he would know of her, or of Sammeal either, for that matter.”
Baz smiled tightly at the demon. “That information still tells me very little.”
Tony frowned at them both. “Naamah, a former Queen of Hell, is a powerful Seer. And a vegan. And a really nice lady.”
Baz snorted.
“And Sammeal was light fae once upon a time, but he got mistaken for an angel and started believing it himself. These days he lives in Fairie and keeps a barstool warm and his brain pickled.”
Azeem looked at her in question when she finished. “Well, what about them, detective?”
“Have you spoken to Naamah lately?” she asked the lieutenant.
“Why do you ask?” he asked, and she wondered why he sounded defensive.
“From what she said, I’m not sure that the main effects of the Geas have only been on the Mundane side of the Divide. And if there are effects on both sides, I wonder if that could affect policing the Divide.” Azeem gave her a puzzled look. “When Phil and I were in Fairie, Naamah said her own power, her mpsi, actually increased when the Geas went into effect here, and yet Sammeal lost...well a lot of power and ability, magical and physical. Those effects had to have been caused by the Geas, and they definitely happened in Fairie, not here.”
Phil nodded. “They were not the only ones to lose or gain something right after the Geas activated.”
