by J. L. Ray
Baz didn’t look as happy as his anger toward Bergfrid had suggested he might be at her imminent death. “It would kill her, eventually, I suppose. And it would be my fault.” He shook his head. “It will not happen. The spell was too weak to bring her over.”
Tony nodded and agreed, hoping that those weren’t an example of famous last words. When she’d touched Baz’s hand, she’d felt a large jolt of power. But since she was pretty new at this whole witchy-poo thing, she was kinda hoping that she’d gotten the backwash of a spell petering out. It didn’t occur to her that her own nascent power might have affected the one-shot, at least not until later.
Caridwen waltzed into the reception area of the building housing Monster-Mate, her gauzy floor length skirt billowing and her t-shirt, which hugged her curves and ended just above her pierced belly-button, proclaiming her allegiance to Friends of Fairie, a pro-magic group that attempted to bring anti-Fairie Mundanes together with groups of pro-technology light fae who mixed well with Natties and tended to make a good impression on them. She had a workbag over her shoulder, and as she walked in, she set it on the table in front of the new receptionist, an air sprite whose slight skeletal build and shortness were offset by lovely billowing white hair and large blue eyes fringed in dark lashes. She drifted over to Caridwen and asked, “How may I help you?”
Her gentle voice washed over Caridwen, who knew she was lucky to catch the sprite on a lovely day. Air sprites were as changeable as the weather they affected, at least in Fairie. Those stuck in Mundania had had a hard go of it. Instead of ruling the weather, they were at the mercy of it wherever they lived. Whatever the weather did, they reflected in their emotions. Most folks who were friends with an air sprite hoped for mild, calm, sunny days.
Caridwen held out a card. “Hello, sweetling. I have an appointment with Mr. Dindle. I am Crystal Winkowski, Magical Practitioner.” Her voice held a laugh in it, as if she knew some joke that she didn’t plan to share. “I believe that I am here to clear up some questions concerning the use of an illegal portal?” She ended on a question.
The sprite, Aretha, blushed, a shade like sunset running up her neck and across her long face. “Oh, yes ma’am. And it was Mr. Dindle who told me you would be in. I’ll just...I’ll call down and let him know you’re coming.” She turned and pointed to the elevator. “Just let the manticore know you want the Monster-Mate floor. It will take you there.” She added, as her blush managed to intensify, “Please excuse the elevator’s decoration, ma’am. It is last on the renovations list since the change in management. It’s a bit...a bit...”
“Raunchy? Racy? Explicit?” Caridwen smiled as Aretha managed an even darker blush, but then waved one long-fingered hand at the young sprite. “I shan’t be offended, sweetling. My thanks for your assistance.”
Aretha nodded, relieved, and then turned back to phone Mr. Dindle. She dialed his number directly.
“Sir?”
“Hello there, Aretha! And how are ye this fine day?”
She blushed again, glad that he couldn’t see it. Being so fair, her blushes were always apparent. “I am very well, sir. I needed to tell you—”
He interrupted her, “Look here, m’darlin’. Ye’ve got to stop callin’ me sir. Call the big boss, sir, yeah? I’m just Dindle, a lowly old dwarf.” He made his voice as mournful as he could, though if Aretha could have seen him, she’d have caught him grinning like the old fox he really was. He knew the young sprite had a mad crush on him, and he was truly flattered. Of course, he had beard brushes older than that sweet puff of air, so he tried to stick to simply teasing her a bit, like a granddad would. In the meantime, he kept his eye out for a likely lad for the girl to attach to. Besides, even if he wasn’t a bit too old for her, he liked a lady with more meat on her bones.
“Sir, uhm, I mean, Mr. Dindle,” she began again.
“Just Dindle, lass.”
She let out a frustrated puff of air and blew over a plant in the lobby area. “Oh bother. Dindle! The Magical Practitioner is here to see you—Crystal Winkowski.”
“Well, why didn’t ye say so, lass? It’s no good messin’ about on company time, then. All right, all right, I hope ye’ve sent her on down to the office?” He growled, but he was laughing, too.
“Yes, sir, I have.”
“Good, good. And Aretha?”
“Sir?”
“Just Dindle, m’dear.”
When she put down the phone, her frustration blew a few magazines around the lobby, but when she was done, she put it all to rights. One day, she’d get that silly man to see her as more than a little bit of cloud fluff. She was sure of it.
Dindle waited for Ms. Winkowski in the Monster-Mate reception office. The leprechaun, Elmo, or whatever the silly git’s name was, had skipped out for a late lunch, leaving Dindle to cover at the front desk. There wasn’t much to do that day. He and the rest of the department heads had turned in their quarterly reports to Mephistopheles, and now most of them were back to the routine running of their departments until Phil responded to the reports that had been submitted with final questions or requests. Dindle was in charge of general maintenance and facilities. Since it was the weekend, the reno guys had the day off, and Dindle should have as well. But with Mephistopheles in a right old mood, he had decided to be a good soldier and wait for the MP instead of making Windle do it. After all, the Tempo had been hidden in the boss’ office on his watch, so Dindle felt it was up to him to make sure it got fixed.
The door to the elevator opened, and out stepped a vision. Ms. Winkowski’s curves checked every box on Dindle’s cheat sheet of what a real woman should look like. The long skirt did nothing to hide the best-looking pair of legs he’d seen since...well, in a week or so. Serena might have been evil, but she had been evil and dead gorgeous, hadn’t she, then?
“Have we met?” Ms. Winkowski held out one hand to the dwarf, who bowed over it and gave it a kiss.
“I have not had the pleasure, since I am quite certain that the memory of such a lovely lady would haunt me to the end of my days,” he replied.
She smiled down at him archly, after pulling her hand from his grasp and putting it back up to her shoulder strap. “Nor could I forget such blatant flattery from such a handsome gentleman.” She looked around the reception area, “Now, I understand you have an issue with illegal entry. How may I help you?”
“Follow me, luv, it’s this way.” He turned and headed toward Mephistopheles’ office. Had he seen the predatory smile on her face as she followed him, he might still have felt that the memory of her would haunt him, but it wouldn’t be her beauty that came to mind.
Chapter Twenty-One
Midge galloped hard and fast, grinning as the wind whipped past her. This was why she took the job as courier. She loved to run. Her long chestnut hair lay across her shoulder, braided in a fishtail style that her dam thought best for this kind of work. The fae on her back was hugging her tightly. This Naamah had not ridden much, Midge assumed. She didn’t seem to understand how to go with the gallop, so as Midge took each stride, if felt as if her rider was slapping against her. She slowed down and came to a stop.
“Are we almost there?” Naamah asked hopefully, sitting back from Midge’s torso.
Midge laughed. “Not quite! But it will be better for you if you take a little direction from me. Have you experience as a rider, Dame Naamah?” Midge twisted around to look at Naamah in the oddly fluid way that centaurs had, upper bodies almost snake-like in their ability to turn back towards their hindquarters.
“Not really, dear,” Naamah said. “In fact, excepting a stint in Mundania during their Medieval period, I haven’t ridden much at all. Ever. Well, not for transportation,” she added with a naughty smile.
Midge raised one brow. “And now I know why I am not assigned riders very often. My dam warned me about girls like you!” She giggled as Naamah gave her a wink. “I think I know what to do, if you will allow it. I can put a brief spell on you.”
“How will you do that?” Naamah asked, her tone simply curious, as centaurs were holders of magic.
Midge reached into her courier bag and pulled out a whole pecan. “These are created and given out by the PTB in Fairie for use by couriers like me.” She shrugged. “We actually do sometimes have to carry Beings as well as messages. Many of them lack riding skills. You are slowing me down a bit because of the awkwardness. This will help us go fast.”
“Oh my,” Naamah breathed, a bit dismayed. She hadn’t enjoyed the speed they had been going. She wasn’t particularly excited about the idea of going even faster, but since young Midge was cracking the nut under her nose, she supposed the point was moot. She was going to ride faster and apparently better. The resulting spell did help her keep her seat better, but despite the improvement in speed, they arrived just in time to see Phil and Cal walking into The Willow. The balloon was nowhere in sight.
“Bogey!” Pernella screeched at the line of trees in back of the family’s cottage, which though traditional and lovely, was still tall enough to house her giant son. “Bogey! Dang it. Where in the blazes…Where’s that boy got to now? Bogey!”
“Here I am, Mommy!” Bogey came crashing out of the woods, knocking over a few small trees as he arrived.
She shook her head as he ran up. “Son, you gotta look where you’re going! Ya big palooka! You’re gonna get hurt, ya come runnin’ like that all the time.”
“But you called!” Bogey told her. He squatted down so that it was easier to see her face. “I will always come when Mommy calls me. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”
“One day, I’ll learn to shut my yap,” she muttered to herself. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right, son. Mommy did tell you to always come when called.” She reached up and grabbed his face. “Come here, lemme slap a kiss on that mug of yours.” She pinched as much cheek as she could and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. “Your brother just sent me a walnut through the fountain, so I need to open the Tempo and pipe in the rumble, see what’s got his shorts in a twist. It can’t be another exchange. I got no stock ready to send and no dough for new baubles since the last crew didn’t bring over their goods. I hope that was a real mistake and not some con job. Plus, I need time to set up new spells before I can actually shift more product across the Divide.” She shook her head, thinking about the failed last deal, which Tooley had assured her would bring them much closer to legging it out of Fairie and away from the dangers to Bogart posed by the Witches’ Council. Instead, they were even further behind. It wasn’t like her eldest to get it so wrong.
Bogey nodded. The ins and outs of the business were topics that he and his mother discussed frequently. He might not be the smartest giant in the Fairie Realms, but he understood money. And his big brother Tooley had been working on getting enough for them to “visit” Mundania for some time.
Though the PTB weren’t thrilled when Fairie creatures wanted to go to Mundania, over the years, they had given permission for more and more creatures to come over and visit family. As long as they came through the PTB operated legal portals, they didn’t get blocked. Applicants who weren’t considered too dangerous to visit Mundania in the first place were granted a visitor’s visa. Visitors who outstayed their visas could blend in as long as they kept from committing a crime that would invoke the Geas after they went into hiding. Those illegals would become part of the Undergrounder Group, a group so frequently called Ugg by the anti-fae that the Undergrounders adopted the name in pride. They would get regular jobs, buy houses, and become part of the local community. If nothing upset the order of their lives, they flew under the radar of both the Geas and Mundania’s Bureau of Undergrounder Round-up Police, or BURP.
Tooley had met some Undergrounders while doing summer stock theatre a little over ten years ago, when Bogey was still a toddler. It seemed like a perfect solution for his family. The Witches’ Council was looking for a reason to kill his little brother, and he knew it was just a matter of time before they found one. He and Pernella developed a plan to amass enough money for her and Bogey to disappear after reaching Mundania on visitors’ visas. While they had done some smuggling before the plan, they stepped up their pace. Pernella began to produce more charms of minor magic, easy to sell in Mundania and mostly overlooked by the SCIB and the Geas alike. They wanted to amass just enough money to disappear, once they got the visitors’ visas. When the family reunited in Mundania, they’d go legit, making it on the Mundane money they had saved until they could get real, Mundane, jobs.
Bogey had noticed lately that his mother and brother had gotten more active in their attempts to stockpile enough money. He didn’t ask why. All he knew was that once there, he might actually see his favorite band, Kiss, on tour. He hoped they were performing live near Tooley’s home. So while Tooley and Pernella tried to use him in the operation as little as possible, he was happy to help in the plan. He couldn’t wait to meet a Mundane giant and see his favorite band.
“What can I do to help you, Mommy?” Bogey asked.
“I want you to go over and check the inventory at the shed while I have some words with your brother, savvy?”
“But I want to talk to Tooley, too.” Bogey’s pout looked much worse on a giant face.
“Bogart! What have I said about making faces and whining?”
He hung his head. “Sorry, Mommy.” He grimaced. “My face didn’t freeze like that, did it?”
“Not this time, ya mug.” She patted his leg. He really was a good boy, her little, big man. “There’s a good fellow. Now, hot foot it over to the shed and make me a list. Write it out.”
Bogey almost protested again, but his Mommy really hated a whiner. Writing a list like that would take him a really long time, and he wanted to talk to Tooley. “Okay, I will.”
Bogey shuffled away, head hung low. Pernella almost called him back; her boys loved each other, and she knew he wanted to see his big brother. She must be gettin’ soft in the head. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get both boys bumped off by the Witches’ Council. Every day, she wondered if this would be the day some snitch turned her and her boys in just for having a little ingenuity. That her Tooley was a male witch, not a wizard, was something that the gang of idiots just could not wrap their ugly noodles around. She’d seen another sister witch with a roving eye produce a male witch, and she and her son had been rubbed out by the Witches’ Council, or the Bitches’ Mob, as she called it. Tooley had been a little boy back then, so she had taken him to live with his father in Mundania, back before the Great Change. His Mundane father had raised him to be an actor, like his daddy, and she had visited them both pretty often. She swore she’d never put another child in danger, but then Bogey’s dad, Bernack, had charmed her, literally, into a giant affair. Well, her mama had always said, you can pick your mate, but not your children. And what’s yours to have is yours to protect. She took that very seriously. She was lucky to have the help of such a good guy as her first-born. The older Bogart got, the harder it was for the Bitches to overlook him. Time was running out.
She turned to the area where she kept the portal running on a stealth mode, invisible to everyone except when in use. She had created a spell that would make it disappear in the presence of any witch who was not directly related to her. Accessing the portal required no additional magic from her other than that to turn up or down the volume of the spell she had over it. That was how she had known that the Natty dame Tooley had used as a mule for magic contraband wasn’t actually purebred Natty. The protection spell had triggered. Pernella had stolen the portal from a PTB installation in Fairie back when she helped that flimflammer Smith get home. Unlike the Tempos, which reeked of dark magic and didn’t last, the portal she and her boys used kept itself magically quiet and, having been started through white magic, held no dark signature to attract immediate attention. She’d reworked its signature so she could keep it functional without attracting attention from the PTB. That way she had frequent access, as long as the portal wasn’t actively ope
n for more than thirty minutes at a time. She had added a little color camouflage to the portal to make it look like a Tempo on the theory that if she was caught, a Tempo might get her in less trouble than stealing from the Powers That Be. She kinda hoped she never had to find out if they’d come down harder on her for one over the other, control-freak bastards that they were.
Pernella stood in front of the portal and frowned in concentration as she began waving her broom in the same pattern that she had used the prior evening. Yesterday, when that rube witch from Mundania came through, Pernella had been forced to react to the situation without the kind of planning she preferred for a job. Tooley’s instructions to get those boxes through, no matter what, had been so adamant that she had let it ride when she saw that the Natty dame was part witch. There was no way that this Sutherland dame would have gotten the goods through without some kind of help. The nullification spell on the packages wouldn’t have helped that dame enough to send her through with them. No one with magic could take anything across the Realms from Fairie to Mundania, so Pernella had slipped a medallion on the chippy to dampen her magic while she crossed the border with the smuggled magic items. Unfortunately, the only medallion Pernella had handy at the time was one she’d been working on for herself. It worked both ends of the spectrum. It could dampen magic in Fairie and amp up a witch’s power in Mundania. Pernella had given her original version to Tooley first so he could access more of his magic in Mundania. She had just finished that one for herself in anticipation of the shift to Mundania. While Pernella planned to go legit and all when they moved, no way was she gonna risk living in a strange Realm without a way to protect her boys. Now she had lost the months of work she had spent making the medallion. It took time to imbue an item with that kind of juice.
