by J. L. Ray
Cal pulled up his f-light and reviewed it. Phil had the list in his head. His ability to recall details put f-lights to shame.
“How about we see Ms. Naamah first?”
Phil smiled. The first choice pleased him, but he knew she was not involved with smugglers. “I was not entirely certain why Azeem wanted us to speak to her.”
“He sent me a list of questions. Hers is separate. Let me look.” Cal flipped to a new screen. “Oh, this one is part personal. He has a private message for her, which I need to deliver, and he wants for us to see if she has any insights or Visions on this situation.”
Phil nodded. “Shall we go?”
“How we gettin’ around?” Cal asked. “I mean, you and Tony had that great Harley. Did you bring it?” He looked worried, and rightly so. He was too big for a Mundane bike. Plus, riding bitch with Tony’s almost boyfriend would be...uncomfortable.
Phil frowned. “Not this time. Tony still has the bike in her bag. She hasn’t returned it to Glinda.” He shook off the anger he felt at even mentioning Glinda. “Azeem contacted the PTB and got us a ride. That’s why we arrived here. My property is still protected, even though I am not here, and Phileas can land safely.”
“Land?” Cal blanched, just a little. A big ogre like Cal wasn’t afraid of anything. Much. Maybe of flying. And heights. And falling off things. And heights. Oh dear.
Phil looked at him. “Flight won’t be a problem, I hope?”
Cal’s voice went a little higher and thinner than ogre voices were made to go. “Oh, no. No problem, no problem at all...not...a...problem.” He gulped.
Phil raised a brow, but he chose not to push it. Instead he said, “Follow me. I think you’ll be happy when you see how we are traveling.”
“Uh huh,” Cal agreed in a tone that conveyed anything but agreement. Half a minute later, when they walked through the gilded foyer and onto the front porch, Cal’s eyes widened as his head swiveled up and up and up, looking at the gaily-colored balloon perched on the wide green lawn in front of the large stone porch with its many steps. His head followed the balloon back down, down, down to the enormous basket suspended from it and resting on the ground. It was big enough to hold several ogres. After a moment or two passed, he finally saw the pilot, whose gnomish head popped up over the side of the basket when he dropped a rope and metal ladder over that side. The gnome pilot climbed up over the basket’s side and came down the ladder, then turned to face his passengers. He wore a bizarre pair of oversized goggles that made his eyes look freakishly large in his tiny face, surrounded as it was by white hair and full beard and mustache. He also wore a tight jumpsuit in bright green, and Cal noted that jumpsuits were not a good look for every guy—especially not this guy. Yikes. TMI, buddy.
The gnome looked at Mephistopheles, then at Calvin. “No one said anything about hazard pay,” he joked. “I didn’t know I was transporting dangerous beings.”
Before Cal could say anything, Mephistopheles replied smoothly, “You need have no worries at all about Detective Kelly. He is Mundane born and bred, a veritable pussycat of an ogre.”
Cal looked at Phil with one eyebrow raised. “Thanks, I think,” he rumbled. “Pussycat?”
The gnome laughed at that and turned to Phil. “Actually, I was more worried about you than the ogre, Mephistopheles.”
Phil smiled sardonically. “Oh, my claws have been clipped. No need to worry.”
“Yeah, he’s running the love connection in Mundania these days,” Cal said, getting a little back after the pussycat comment. “Just don’t ask him for any favors and you’ll be okay.”
The gnome grinned and nodded and held out a hand to Cal. “The name’s Phileas, lad.” Cal shook the proffered hand gingerly. The gnome was considerably smaller than Cal, and shaking hands wasn’t really a thing in Fairie since touch was the easiest way to set a spell.
“Nice to meetchya!” Cal told him. He didn’t sound that enthusiastic, but Phil assumed it was the ride rather than the driver that made the ogre leery.
“Well, my fine friends, are you going to stand there, or do you have places to be? I was told our journey included a tad bit of a time issue. Shall we go?” Phileas headed back into the basket of the balloon.
As he spoke, Cal suddenly realized that both the gnome’s jumpsuit and the balloon were the same color, except the color was changing. Instead of bright, neon green, it had shifted to sunset orange, which was, almost impossibly, an even worse look for the gnome than the green. Cal ran his hand over his face, rubbing hard, as if to wipe the image away.
Phil glanced at him and grinned. He had a feeling that Phileas’ interesting choices in garments and magical material for the balloon might just have distracted Cal from an apparent fear of heights. If he had known about Cal’s phobia, he would have asked for something in the equine family—horses, unicorns, or pegasi. Maybe not the pegasi. But he hadn’t known about the phobia, thus the airship. He considered Cal’s height and weight. Perhaps it was just as well. Of the main branches of equine in Fairie, only a Mundane horse would have consented to carry so large a load, and even then it would have to have been something built for carrying armor-laden knights-errant.
“C’mon, you great lumps!” Phileas yelled. “We’ve got some nice winds up high, not too strong, not too gusty. Let’s sail!”
Cal walked over to him and the little gnome pointed at the ladder on the side of the basket. “I don’t think you’ll need this, big ‘un. Just hop in carefully, won’t you? Don’t jostle m’instruments.”
“Okay.” Cal put his hands on the side and vaulted over. A small tinkling of glass washed over the two outside the basket, and both of them winced as Cal yelled, “Sorry! Sorry. Just a beer glass.”
The gnome shook his head. “That was my lunch, wasn’t it? Oh well. That’s soon fixed.” He turned to Phil. “Up the ladder with you, sir.”
Phil got over the side fairly quickly and the gnome followed.
In just a few minutes, they were up and away.
Tony had talked to Azeem briefly by f-light, letting him know her suspicions based on the analysis that Baz had been doing with the old cases. When she got to his office, he was trying to get in contact with Phil and Cal.
“Yes, I understand. When they get into range, can you patch me through to them?” The thump of Azeem’s tail warned Tony of his rising frustration level. “It’s magic. I don’t understand that problem,” he hissed. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Uh huh...” After a pause, he said quietly, “I want to talk to your supervisor. Now.”
Two seconds later he was staring at his f-light in amazement. Then he looked at Tony. “Damned if that sprite didn’t hang up on me!”
Under other circumstances, Tony might have grinned. Bureaucracy was bureaucracy, whether magical or Mundane. But since she felt quite certain that Phil and Cal were headed into a danger which they would not expect, she was more anxious than the lieutenant to get someone on the f-light who could make things happen.
“What can I do to help, sir?” she asked.
“Go look at those records again, make some notes for me to send to Detective Kelly when I get the chance.”
“Why won’t the PTB just let Beings connect directly?” Tony fretted.
The lieutenant frowned at her. “You know the answer to that, Detective Newman. You and Kelly stay constantly busy with magical threats to the Mundane world, even with such restrictions in place. Can you imagine what kind of mayhem could be arranged if it were easier for Beings in the different Realms to communicate directly with one another at will?”
Tony shrugged. She thought the Powers That Be were draconian in their approach to that particular point of law. Sure, there might be more murders, more magical terrorism. However, freedom wasn’t free. It sometimes meant having to deal with seriously evil crap, but it was certainly better than living in a police state. And some Beings really suffered from not having the ability to at least f-light home.
“I suppose so, sir,” Tony said, hesita
nt in the face of Azeem’s earnestness. She added, “I can’t help but feel that if we could contact friends and family in Fairie, that maybe Mama would have looked for Adele on her own. Maybe she’d be more open to letting me look.” She shrugged and mentioned the station’s goblin medical examiner, one of her favorite coworkers, “And I know Dr. Caligari has a sister he’d like to see, but he’s applied three times to visit Fairie, and he told me he’s been turned down three times, even though he came here as a volunteer. He does get to f-light a few times a year, but...it’s his sister! And he’s not even dark, except by birth!”
Azeem looked a little taken aback at her reaction. Most Natties were quite happy to keep Fairie in Fairie. Mundania naturally dampened the magic of most Fairie creatures, and the Geas took care of most issues other than that, but the majority of Mundanes still had trouble adjusting to the magical immigrants inhabiting their world. Even those who worked well within the new world order preferred a tight control on the information and Beings traveling between the worlds. There were even rabid anti-Fairie groups that made everyone’s job that much harder, but the Powers That Be tried to keep the peace between them all. It didn’t hurt that the new rules of Fairie in Mundania affected everyone equally. No one had an easy time contacting anyone in Fairie, even law enforcement. The Supernatural Crimes Investigation Bureau could go through the Powers That Be to contact Fairie, but while SCIB could contact Fairie’s keepers, whether the PTB would actually reciprocate the action was always questionable.
Azeem nodded his head. “I see your point, detective. It is frustrating.” He continued in a sour tone, “Apparently, having set up a way for Mephistopheles and Detective Kelly to travel while in Fairie, whoever is covering Out-Realm Communications has decided that the D.C. branch of the SCIB has gotten its full quota of assistance for one operation.”
“ORC does have a reputation for being pretty ugly most days,” Tony sighed.
“I will continue to attempt to get a message through to them, but you see why it was so frightening to send you in last week? We have almost no ability to affect operations in Fairie once they go into play. The PTB, for all their interference here, do as little as possible there.” Azeem sounded bitter enough about it that Tony simply agreed, and went back to where Baz sat, staring at his work screen and taking notes as he read old reports, waiting for her to return.
“How fast can you go in this?” Mephistopheles asked Phileas as they moved through the air at a surprisingly fast clip.
Phileas grinned. “On most days, as fast as I want. As long as the winds are favorable, I can use magic to control the speed.”
Phil pointed at the burner, which Phileas operated to increase lift. “And that?”
“Oh, I employ some of the Mundane principles of physics.” The gnome grinned, then held up his hands. “I even wear these flame retardant gloves when I use the burner. But I can operate The Jules Verne without any of that. I mainly use these devices out of nostalgia.” He sighed, remembering his time in Mundania and his travels with his dear, old Natty pal.
Phil looked over at Calvin, who sat huddled, a miserable pile of catatonic ogre jammed into one corner of the basket. Mephistopheles had started talking to Phileas in an attempt to pull Cal out of the paralysis he had succumbed to after the balloon had risen above fifteen feet. Cal could easily jump fifteen feet and land with no problems. Once they had risen above his comfort zone, he slid down the inside wall of the basket, staring into space. Phil had a reasonable suspicion that Tony would expect him to help Cal deal with this, but even without that, he found that the sight of the ogre’s distress distressed him as well, and he wanted to help. Unfortunately, the gnome’s enthusiasm only made things worse.
“Yep, I like playing with Mundanian laws of physics. They are so much more interesting than Fairie! You see, it’s not that the Mundy laws of physics are unpredictable. They are very predictable. It’s that there are so many variables in the rest of the world that even when you know the laws, you can’t always predict the outcome. There’s an element of chance in doing things the Mundy way. For instance, look at us up here in the air.” The gnome threw out his arms. “Shouldn’t be possible, should it? We should just drop like a rock, especially with that big ‘un in here,” and he pointed at Cal, who had, unfortunately, tuned in enough to hear this conversation and whose look of alarm ought to have told the gnome to change the topic. The gnome, however, was on his favorite topic and, like most enthusiasts, oblivious to the effect of his words on his audience.
“Drop like a rock?” Cal whispered, aghast.
“Oh yes,” cackled the gnome, rubbing his hands together in their huge flame retardant gloves. “But the use of the helium gas and the laws of physics says we can do this. And if I use this colorless odorless gas, this profane or propane, I forget which, that the Mundies use, then I can propel us up to catch the stronger winds and go faster!”
Calvin swallowed heavily.
Phil jumped in. “Well, that is all quite fascinating, Phileas. How long do you think it will be before we land?”
“At Naamah’s? Oh, just a few minutes. She asked me to speed it up. She’s looking forward to seeing you again so soon.” Phileas winked broadly at Phil, implying a romantic reason for her enthusiasm that Phil was certain was inaccurate. He refrained from correcting the gnome when he saw how relieved Calvin looked.
“Very good, Phileas. I believe that I shall consult with the Detective for a few moments before we land.” He walked over to Cal and patted his shoulder. “Almost there, Calvin. Chin up.”
Cal looked stricken. “That’s not all that’s up—” and with that, he projectile vomited onto Phil, who stood and took it like a friend should, though he did close his eyes. When Cal was done, he slowly reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.
“I really wonder if I should have accepted your good lady’s invitation to dinner,” he said calmly as he wiped his face, while a very embarrassed Cal patted his own pockets, looking for another handkerchief. Unfortunately, all he found was a receipt for cupcakes, the remains of which were sliding down the front of Phil’s suit.
“Uh...why is that?” Cal asked miserably.
“It does seem that any time I am around a Kelly who has recently dined, I end up covered in some form or other of viscous fluids. Dining with the entire family, well, it staggers the imagination,” he said drily.
“I am so sorry, Phil. I mean, I thought I was okay, but then when the pilot started talking about this and that and...I mean...that’s some scary-ass shit, am I right?”
Phil waved off Cal’s apology. “I will impose on Naamah for access to a bath, and clothing is never a problem for me, here or in Mundania. And indeed...that, uhm, shit is scary.”
Phileas came over and pointed at the bits of vomit that had landed in the basket. “Phil, you’ll be cleaning that for me, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Phil told him, and waved his hand over it. The vomit, along with other bits of food that had probably been dropped by Phileas while eating aboard The Jules Verne, disappeared, and the floor of the basket looked brand new. He then waved his hand over his clothes and simply replaced them. His face, beard, and hair, however, still had bits lodged here and there. He waved a hand over his face and they all disappeared. He had come to prefer a Mundane shower in such situations, but magic would do for now.
“Much obliged,” the gnome told him before going over to check the apparatus that gave him a view of the area below. “We have been descending for a bit. Probably what pushed your ogre over the edge. That dropping sensation’ll do it every time.” He noticed that Cal’s face had gone a little green again and added quickly, “We’ll be on the ground in two shakes of a lamb’s tail!”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Cal muttered.
“Thank whomever you wish, ogre,” the gnome said with an evil grin, “but remember the consequences in Fairie!”
Chapter Sixteen
Naamah was waiting on the ground for Phil, Cal a
nd Phileas as they arrived. She helped tie the airship down, chatting amiably with the gnome as she held the stakes while Cal, who had vaulted over the side of the basket in relief as soon as the drop was less than fifteen feet, pounded them into the ground. Phil waited in the basket to keep it weighted down as they finished, though Phileas could have held it there magically. The gnome’s fondness for authentic Mundanian technology lagged behind the times. He hadn’t been to Mundania since the turn of the nineteenth century, so his ideas were more than a little out of date.
“Well, now.” Naamah brushed her hands together after the last stake went in. “Can I offer you some homemade bread, butter, and jam, Phileas?” Cal looked so forlorn that Naamah laughed and patted his arm, as high as she could reach on the ogre. “I am so sorry that I can offer you nothing, Calvin, but unfortunately, if you eat or drink—well…”
“Then I have to stay forever,” he interrupted, nodding. “I know. Berthell and the spawn would not like that! That’s why I have some provisions for us.”
Phil looked surprised. “When did you get those?”
“The lieutenant set me up before we left.” Cal grinned. “Hungry ogres are angry ogres, y’know.” He patted a messenger bag that hung over his shoulder. “He gave me a never-ending supply of ham and cheese sandwiches and a water bottle that refills itself. Not that we hav’ta eat while we’re here,” Cal shrugged as he gestured at himself and Phil, “but hey, it feels weird not to eat at all.”
Phileas looked interested. “Now why can you use that magic to eat, but cannot eat our magical food?”
“It’s Mundane-made magic,” Cal said simply.
Phileas looked intrigued. “I didn’t realize that it was that simple! So as long as something is of Mundane manufacture, then you can eat it here without consequences, even if it is magically enhanced?”
