by J. L. Ray
“Here’s hopin’ the poor sap don’t use magic too often in the Mundane lands. She’s gonna get a real kick in the pants if she does!” Pernella cackled to herself. Then she shook her head, wondering how that Sutherland dame could work as a mule before she came through the Packlead’s portal. Tooley had claimed he had hired experienced runners this time because the client in Mundania demanded certain requirements for the job. But Sutherland seemed like a serious rube to her. That witch blood shoulda ruled out the old dame for a mule job. Somebody had gotten his wires crossed, she reckoned.
When Pernella got the portal cleared and opened it to talk across the Realms, however, her questions about the mule from the day before were put on hold while she gaped at her son and the pink-haired woman standing next to him. This chickee looked a whole lot like the Sutherland rube, with a few key differences, like her age. This kid looked about twenty years younger. Could this be her daughter? And that hair! What in the Seven Fairie Hells was Tooley up to now?
“So, son,” she asked as she pushed her fedora back on her head, “who’s the broad?”
As the balloon got closer to The Willow, it caught back up with the storm that had passed over Naamah’s cottage. Phil didn’t ask their pilot how he knew the directions to various places. Fairie didn’t work like Mundania. Even if a map existed, it wouldn’t go where the reader expected it to go. The route to get between two points was never the same way twice or the same amount of space twice. In fact, one of the reasons that Phil had come to spend so much time in Mundania, aside from the fact that Natties dreamed big, wished hard, and paid well, was that he got tired of the work that went into getting anywhere in Fairie. He had missed weddings, birthday parties, and haircuts just because the route to anywhere in Fairie changed constantly. And if the Being one sought didn’t wish to be found, it could even be impossible to locate one’s final destination.
The storm, which had started as a fine mist, then progressed to a drizzle, and was now a roaring wall of water, bounced the balloon around in the air. Phileas looked calm enough, but Calvin was barely hanging on. He’d have been an utter wreck if not for Naamah’s “spell”. As it was, he hadn’t lost his ham sandwiches yet, but how long he would keep them down became more of a question with each rise and fall of the basket in the turbulent winds.
“Phileas?”
“Yes?”
“Forgive my asking, but are we there yet?”
“Huh?”
Mephistopheles grinned. “My apologies. It is a common enough joke in Mundania.”
“Ah.” Phileas nodded in agreement, then shook his head. “No, sorry, I’ve no idea what that joke is. I can tell you that I also don’t know how long it will take to get to your destination. I don’t think I can keep us moving forward much longer, as spells and Mundane methods combined are barely keeping us moving at all. You aren’t too far from The Willow, but you’ll have to walk a bit.”
Phil nodded. “We’ll walk from wherever you land. Do you what you have to do.”
Phileas began setting the balloon down, and Phil turned to tell Cal that he was about to be put out of his misery. When Cal realized that Phil hadn’t meant anything worse than that they were landing, he grabbed Phil and gave him a great big hug. Phil gave him a hard time about it, but smiled as he turned away. At least Calvin was happy.
Phileas set the balloon down in a glade near an old forest that looked quite familiar to Phil. He could see what looked like a road nearby. He was certain he must have driven down it on the Harley with Tony just last week. He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of her arms around his waist, her hair slapping the back of his neck once in a while.
“Y’okay, Phil?”
Phil opened his eyes and found Calvin staring at him, a worried frown wrinkling his face in a way that reminded him suddenly of Calvin’s newborn. He grinned at Cal. “You know, I think I see a family resemblance.”
Calvin gave him a look.
“To Newman.”
“Oh! Well that’s all right then. I mean, hey, he’s a Kelly, am I right?”
“One would assume so.” Phil smiled back. Then he looked back at the road ahead and pointed. “I believe the bar is back in that grove.”
They nodded to Phileas, careful not to thank him, jumped from the basket, and slogged through the rain and into the woods along the road. Once there, the density of the trees’ limbs and leaves overhead cut down the rainfall so much that fifteen minutes passed before they realized that the rain had either completely stopped or had slowed so much that very little was getting through the immense canopy above them. As they came into a clearing, they saw a few dumb horses, that is, they saw horses with no magic at all, as well as a horseless chariot that had obviously seen better days, and several bedraggled carpets, draped and hanging over a fence, but nonetheless moving every so slightly. Magic carpets were never completely quiescent, whether in use or waiting on their owners. The methods of transport suggested that the bar catered to a clientele of down-at-heel Supers.
Phil raised one brow and turned to Calvin. “Shall I stay quiet?”
“I got no problem with you jumpin’ into the conversation. You’ve known the guy for a few thousand years, right?”
“I used to know the guy. I cannot say that I do now.”
“Should we have a signal or something?” Cal asked, obviously hoping they could set up some kind of code.
Phil shook his head. “A signal for what? I do not think we can anticipate every reason for needing a signal. Besides, time is ticking.”
“How long we got?”
Phil looked at his arm and looked at his platinum Rolex. “We have over sixteen hours still. But if the Willow and Sammeal are not suspects after all, then that may be less than sufficient. And we still have another riddle to solve.”
“Two,” Cal said, holding up two large fingers.
Phil frowned at him, narrowing his eyes. “Only one that pertains to the case.” His expression dared Cal to disagree.
Cal frowned back at him but left the challenge alone. “I think we got an idea for the one you mean, but I still think—” He took a good look at Phil’s face. “Okay, already, let’s go do this thing.”
As they walked into the bar, they missed the sight of Naamah, heroically riding to their rescue on the back of a buxom young centaur.
“Well, now what?” Naamah exclaimed, exasperated though, truthfully, a bit exhilarated from the mad gallop across what had become stormy, grass-filled plains. She had just experienced the ride of her life and missed her friends by no more than a minute. The word frustrated didn’t begin to cover her reaction.
“Oh… oh my word,” Midge exclaimed as she caught her breath. “I’m just a courier, ma’am. I’m not sure what to do.” The pace had been far beyond her normal level.
Naamah laughed and patted Midge on the back. “I was talking out loud, my dear girl. When you live alone, as I do, it becomes something of a bad habit. Of course, if an idea occurs to you, spit it out.”
“They’re going in to talk to the barkeeper and a regular.”
“Yes, they are. If I just go in, that regular is likely to glom onto me and become a serious pain in my posterior. I broke ties with him over two thousand years ago. I really don’t want to get pulled into his drama again.”
“A man from your past? And one who has to be the center of attention?”
“Oh yes. Everything is about him—every Being wants him, every slight is an insult to him. He used to be taken for one of the angelic host in Mundania.”
Midge rolled her eyes. “A celebrity.”
“Exactly.” Naamah considered for minute, and then slapped her forehead. “I am an idiot.”
“An inexperienced rider, maybe. But an idiot? I would bet against it.” Midge had twisted round to see what Naamah was going on about.
She smiled at the filly. “Oh, but I am. Look at me. What do you see?”
Midge looked at her gray curls and plump, motherly body, her wrinkled face
and homespun clothing. “I see a comfortable matron who lives modestly.”
“Oh my word, you are a well brought up young filly!” Naamah gave Midge a wicked grin. “This is not how I presented myself when Sammeal knew me, and I have never met the Willow.” She slid off of Midge’s back. “I am going to go in and see if I can get this message to the boys. In the meantime, you stay out here. If things don’t go well, then find out what you can, and get the information to this Being in Mundania through the PTB’s InterRealm communication channel.”
“I will.” Midge stomped her feet nervously. “I don’t like to let you go in alone.”
“Phil and Calvin are there.” When Midge looked blank, she added, “Phil is better known as Mephistopheles, and Calvin is an ogre.”
Midge nodded, round-eyed. Everyone knew of Mephistopheles. “Very well. I’ll wait outside for you. Good fortune!”
Naamah grinned again and headed into the bar, the Mundane neon sign overhead episodically bathing her in pink and blue as it blinked on and off.
Calvin and Phil opened the door to The Willow and went in. It was mid-afternoon, and the bar held only the regulars. Around the room, tucked in dark corners, the two could see hunched figures, beings drunk on mead and beer, likely evading their unhappy lives, unhappy wives or husbands, avoiding their responsibilities. And like Sammeal, they might wake one day to find themselves alone and come back to the bar because it was the only place left to go, as long as they could still pay for their drinks.
The Beings sitting around the edges of the bar glanced over at the doorway in a hazy sort of curiosity that soon petered out as they went back to their drinks and, in a few cases, to their conversations with other regulars. The only exceptions to this were the barkeeper, the Willow, and Sammeal, who retained his seat at the long bar, keeping the Willow company in more ways than most of the room’s occupants was aware.
Phil and Calvin walked over to the two, who watched them with comically different reactions. The Willow had the better poker face. He watched and continued to wipe glasses and replace them at his counter. He nodded to Phil and then looked askance at Calvin. Ogres and trolls, but especially ogres, were rarely welcomed into establishments like his because of an unfortunate habit they had of eating the clientele instead of ordering a nice plate of chips or some expensive, imported Mundanian peanuts. Phil shook his head to indicate that it was okay and the Willow nodded and turned back to grab another wet glass.
Meanwhile, the look of horror that had crossed Sammeal’s face as he had seen them walk in was quickly followed by a furtive look towards the Willow and an attempt at nonchalance that failed in every way. Phil managed not to laugh. If guilt had a picture, it would be Sammeal. Really, this was almost too easy.
“Hello Sammeal,” Phil greeted his former friend as cordially as he was able, given their last conversation. He then turned to the Willow. “Two beers, if you please.”
“Right.” As the Willow pulled the beers, Cal leaned over to Phil and asked as sotto voce as any ogre ever had, “Can we drink those?”
Phil turned and gave him a look.
“Is that a no?”
Phil just kept looking.
“Cause I could use a beer right now.”
Phil just kept looking, though he got out a gold coin and laid it on the bar counter.
“Okay, okay. No beer for us. Uhm...why two?”
Sammeal finally found his voice. “I wondered that myself old friend. Why two beers?”
Phil turned back to the former angel. “Why, one for you, old friend, and one for your partner.”
Sammeal started gulping, his eyes widening and shifting from side to side. “Partner?”
“And who would that be then? And could I be gettin’ this person t’pay the bill for him when you aren’t around to flounce in and pay it?” the Willow asked as he set the two mugs down in front of them, a little bit of foam spilling over one and rolling down the side, making Calvin wish all the more that he could have one.
Phil looked over at the Willow. “Why you are he! At least, that is what we heard from certain interested...parties, shall we say, in Mundania.”
The Willow bent over to reach under his counter for his bow and arrow, but a sudden entrance brought him back up to the counter, weaponless. A little old lady in a brown homespun cloth dress bolted through the door and ran up to the counter, her dress dripping water. “Oh my word! I am so glad to find this place! I was out walking in the forest and got lost and then it began to rain and I was soaked to the skin! I shall catch my death of a cold unless I get a hot toddy, this instant. Barkeeper?” She looked at the Willow and smiled. “Barkeeper, could you make me a large hot toddy to ward off this cold?”
Relieved at an excuse for a moment to think, the Willow nodded his head and moved over to the kettle to begin making a rum, lemon, and hot water toddy for the old lady.
Calvin was gaping at Naamah, whom he had left, he had thought forever, back at her cottage. Phil was trying very hard not to react to her and blow what appeared to be her cover as a gormless old lady, toddling around the forest in search of rum. In the meantime, the Willow was desperately trying to think of a way to deal with the “partner” comment.
“You look familiar,” Sammeal slurred in Naamah’s direction, interrupting everybody’s thought.
Naamah looked over at her ex-lover, ex-friend, and tormentor. She smiled her little old lady smile and patted his hand. “I have that kind of face, dearie. I look like everyone’s sweet old granny.” She turned to Phil and Cal and said, staring at them as hard as she could, “Everyone thinks sweet old granny has good advice for them, and sometimes I don’t, but sometimes I do!” She winked when she said this and held out her hands to them as if shrugging but actually showing them the two pieces of walnut shell that indicated a message from the PTB.
Cal picked up on it first and rumbled a laugh. “Well, let me buy you that drink, old granny, and then see if you’ve got any advice for a homesick ogre.”
“That sounds lovely, dear,” she said, both of them careful to avoid saying any outright thank you.
Phil waved toward the room in a gesture of acceptance. “Find a table and I will bring your drink.” He nodded at Naamah. “I, too, would enjoy enlightenment, old granny.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tooley looked from his mother to his...whatever she was...and then back to his mother. The expression on her face wasn’t reassuring and he grimaced. “Mother… It’s a long story and not a very pretty one. Let me give you the Reader’s Digest condensed version?”
Pernella shrugged. “Spill, kid.”
Taking heart from her fairly normal speech patterns, gangster casual, he explained. “The boxes for the Mundane buyer went to Crystal Winkowski. She is not, however, a Natural. She is apparently connected to the Mistress…or she is the Mistress…” he paused, thinking over what he had expected when he went to deliver the packages. He shrugged, hiding a shudder at the memory of that creature. “Actually, I have no clue who she is, but her mpsi is masked so totally that I thought her Mundane until she...” He faltered, searching for words to continue without telling his mother too much. He was afraid of what she might do if she knew what had been done to him.
“She what?” Pernella’s voice went ice cold, as did her face.
Berry took a step closer to Tooley, her hand creeping into his.
Startled, he looked down and then gripped her hand. He looked back at his mother. “She put a compulsion spell on me so powerful that I couldn’t break it. I...I can feel its pull even now.”
His mother growled. “What happened while you was there, kid?”
He glanced at Berry and then back at his mother. “This is the short version. She wanted an audience to open the three packages we transported for her. She…she gave me the contents of two of them.” He paused and added, “I took the contents of the third.”
“What was in the packages?”
“An Ounce of Prevention, a Cover of Darkness.”<
br />
Pernella whistled. Those were expensive, in terms of magical production. Both artifacts took years and multiple castings to produce. “And the third package?”
Tooley held up his hand, still gripping Berry’s. He put his other on top. “This young lady was in the third package. An hour or so after we had opened the box she was stored in—” he almost choked on the simplification of the time between finding Berry and leaving with her— “Berry awoke from a dormancy spell. I believe that is what must have gotten her through our portal. She found me as I was...leaving the premises, in haste.”
His mother took off her hat and slapped her leg with it in frustration. “So you left this Winkowski dame, who may or may not be this high-roller client of ours, and took all the goods you had to hustle to get across this boundary yesterday. Geez Louise, kid, ain’t I taught you nothin’?”
“Mother, I needed the other things to get out clean, and I...I couldn’t leave her.” He tipped his head toward Berry. “Winkowski has something planned for the items, for me, for Berry. I couldn’t leave her there.”
“What kind of plans, kid?” Pernella asked, her tone icy again.
Tooley sighed. “Honestly, I’m not exactly sure what her plans are, but I am sure that she’s crazy.”
“And why is that?”
“Have you ever heard of a female wizard?”
His mother’s swarthy skin paled. “You gotta be shittin’ me, kid. No way. No way!”
“Mother. If I am a male witch, then I can tell you that based on my—” his face twisted into an expression of disgust “experiences with her, her use of power, her discussion of the artifacts she ‘gave’ me, she must be a female wizard.”
Pernella sat abruptly down on a rock near the portal, the one she used to keep track of its placement outside her cottage. She sat there for a moment, shaking her head. Then she started nodding. “Okay, okay, lemme get this straight, O’Toole, my darlin’ boy. Your client is a female wizard who brought across from Fairie not only two artifacts that are highly illegal in Mundania, but also a girlie.” She snorted. “Sounds like a little illegal immigration. We was kinda hopin’ to illegally immigrate our ownselves.” She looked at the young woman. “Berry?”
