Mismatched Pair

by J. L. Ray

“I see,” said the Willow. Then he looked at Naamah. “And the old bitch?”

  “See here, twig, call me a bitch again and maybe I’ll make you into a stack of firewood for my winter hearth,” Naamah growled.

  “Now, now, my dear.” Phil patted her shoulder. “No need to antagonize the nice wood nymph who might just help save your life.”

  “Hmph.” She folded her arms and turned away.

  “As you can see, the client is a bit upset at the moment. She’ll have to leave hearth and home and try to make a life in Mundania.” He leaned forward, pushing the two beers toward Sammeal, who immediately helped himself to them. “I am simply trying to find a way to make that happen.”

  “And how would all this go over wit’ yer little cop friend, the one ye brought last time, eh?” The Willow asked, looking over at Sammeal and frowning as he realized that Sammeal had downed his sixth, seventh, and eighth beers of the day while he had been trying to ascertain if Mephistopheles really wanted to hire their services, or was some kind of undercover operative. Sammeal might take his old friend at face value, but the Willow had watched the demon cooperate with a cloaked cop.

  “Ah, the female cop from my visit last week.” He rolled his eyes. “I got caught in a minor infraction of PTB rules, and to keep my job at Monster-Mate, I had to cooperate with SCIB on that case. I deliberately led them astray. But it was through that connection that I met someone at the police station and found out about Sammeal’s little service.”

  “Whom did ye meet?” The Willow’s tone was so casual, it would have fooled most Beings, but Phil, Cal, and Naamah weren’t most Beings.

  “A Mrs. Sutherland. Unfortunately, she recognized me from the recent spread in The Post as the new CEO of Monster-Mate and would not leave me alone.” Phil smiled. “I have had my share of followers over the years, though most people have the good sense to be a little afraid of me. She is a shameless woman, however. I am not really sure how she wanted this to work, but she had an idea for an FV show...” Phil trailed off, one eyebrow raised to suggest the details were too sordid to mention.

  The Willow chewed on his lips for a moment, not realizing this was his tell. Phil knew then that the Willow believed him.

  “Well,” Phil drawled, looking down at Naamah. “It appears that I was wrong, that the Sutherlands have lied to me. I tried to contact them in Mundania to set this up, but they seem to have disappeared. I have to assume that they are wanted by the SCIB. I cannot even get a message to either of their f-lights. If the information they gave me is incorrect,” he paused and took Naamah’s hand and patted it, “then I am afraid that we shall just have to keep you hidden from that giant until I can find a way to safely transport you, my dear.”

  “What?” Naamah screeched loudly enough to make Calvin rub an ear in protest. Phil just managed not to follow suit. “What about all that loot I gave you? I gave you half of what I got from the giant’s castle to get me out of here before he kills me!” She started whacking his arm. “You’re a cheat and a liar.”

  Sammeal laughed. “Of course, he is, y’know?” Then he turned to the Willow. “But he’s also one of m’oldest friends.” He turned back to Phil, almost falling off of his stool from the disorientation of two turns in a row. “Your information was correct.” Sammeal’s chest swelled as he tried to preen himself into the role of desperado. “We are smugglers, the Willow and I, and we’re very good at our job.”

  The Willow’s face went blank as he considered his “partner” and the likelihood that Sammeal would get them both killed.

  “And does that mean you’d be willing to work with an old friend, even one who was recently forced to work with the Mundane police?”

  Sammeal sneered. “Hey, we been running this scam under the snouts of the pigs in Mundania for months now.” A grinding sound made him turn his head toward Cal, who was trying to keep from saying or doing anything to blow this sting. “You got a problem, oaf?”

  Cal grinned at him, showing a lot of teeth. “No, sir, just got something caught in my teeth. That last guy I ate was a little stringy. Got a toothpick?” He directed the last question at the Willow.

  “Nay kitchen,” the Willow replied. “So nay, no toot’picks.”

  Cal took one fingernail and started picking at one of his teeth, staring at Sammeal the whole time.

  Sensing antagonistic feelings from the ogre, Sammeal kept an eye on him as he told Phil, “We’ll do the job, old friend.”

  “Very good,” Phil replied smoothly, but before he could ask questions about the particulars of planning the deal, Sammeal interrupted.

  “We won’t do it for free,” the former angel added, making sure to clear that up immediately. “But we’ll do it.” He waved magnanimously at the Willow. “My partner will work out the details.” He pointed back at himself. “I am a bit indisposed.” He turned his head and vomited on Cal’s shoes. Then he turned back to the bar and settled his head on it for a nap.

  Cal looked at his shoes, then over at Phil. He sighed. It was really hard to take these punks seriously, but he supposed he should.

  Midge had put up a fight worthy of any centaur. Certainly her dam would be proud. Two of the goblins lay groaning on the ground near her, but the others had overwhelmed her and brought her down off her hooves. There had been more than the four that first appeared. After she had been subdued by the first few that had attacked, three more came out of the woods to join in the fun. She knew that her Vision spell meant that the office was both recording the assault and, in all probability, sending some kind of help, physical or magical. In the meantime, she just needed to keep the goblins from slitting her throat.

  “What do we do with her?” one of them asked the ringleader nervously. “Lookit that coat she’s wearin’. She works for the PTB!”

  A different goblin swore when he heard that. “I don’t want no part of this rumble. What you got us into, Muckwraithe?” The last comment was addressed to the ringleader.

  “You singin’ a different tune now, eh, Lipscomb? You was all, ‘let’s get us some fresh meat,’ and ‘I wants some tasty pony bones to crack’. One blue coat on the filly and suddenly ole Lipscomb wants to run away and hide, does he?”

  Lipscomb glanced at Midge, then said, “Well, yeah. I got sense, don’t I? You don’t mess with officers in the PTB. She’s probably got some weird technolology from Mundania that’ll zap us.”

  “Technology,” Muckwraithe sneered. “The word is technology.” He strutted a bit. “I studied up on that stuff recently, working with m’new Boss Lady. She’s got plans, boys, big, big plans.”

  The first goblin, the one who had noticed Midge’s courier status, broke in. “I don’t care what kind of plans your boss has. This is bollocks! Getting caught in this kind of cock up by the PTB ain’t on my agenda. I’m leavin’.”

  Muckwraithe tried to placate his brothers, mindful of his promise to his new boss that he could produce a large number of goblins for her. She hadn’t yet said why she needed so many goblins in the first place, but that particular question hadn’t occurred to Muckwraithe.

  “You don’t want to do that, Whipchase! Think of all the fun you’ll be missin’ out on if you don’t get chosen to follow me new boss lady!” His voice deepened as he continued, “Those big plans, they involve blood, a lot of Mundane blood. Sweet and free of magic, no bitter aftertaste. You can crack bones to your heart’s content once we get going, crack ‘em whilst Natties are still trying to crawl away if you want.” He smacked his lips. “I get hungry thinking about all those Natties, just waiting to be my supper.”

  Whipchase snorted. “That’s a pipe dream, y’idjit. There’s no way the PTB or the Geas would let a bunch of goblins into Mundania, let alone let ‘em feast like that!”

  “You don’t know my Lady,” Muckwraithe leered. “She will make this happen, and soon.”

  “That don’t change the fact that this here creature is with the PTB!” Lipscomb brought them all back to the matter at hand, but Muckwraithe
was ready with an answer.

  “Now see here, fellas, the filly, she’s a minor official. That there is a courier coat. She’s deliverin’ messages is all. Them messengers is here and there all the day long. I doubt anyone even knows she’s not on her next route.” He started ticking off a list on his misshapen fingers. “We kills her, we eats her, we gets rid of the leftovers, like that coat, and,” he threw out his arms like a Mundane magician, “no one ever knows what happens to the filly.”

  One of the goblins, a bit smarter than the rest and certainly the intellectual superior to Muckwraithe, walked over to her and sniffed.

  Midge had kept still and quiet during their argument, aware that with the more violent races of Fairie, moving attracted attention, and attention was generally a bad thing to attract. When this goblin came to sniff her, running its mucous-oozing nose along her neck and hair, bits of her braid sticking to its snout momentarily before breaking free as the creature continued to move along her torso, she managed to keep still, other than rolling her eyes to try to see what it was doing.

  Finally, it quit sniffing, though it still leaned into her, and spoke. “The little filly is running a charm right now,” it muttered. “I bet the PTB respond any—”

  At that moment, the repulsion spell that the office had finally agreed to use came through the badge on Midge’s neck. It threw all of the goblins backwards from the young operative and gave her a chance to scramble back up on all four hooves. Midge looked around the clearing, but most of the goblins had immediately cleared out, their ears still ringing from the sound wave that had carried the spell, and several of them suffering from nosebleeds and too dizzy to focus their eyes. Muckwraithe, however, stood to one side still, staring at her with palpable hatred.

  That goblin, a particularly nasty piece of work, had spent days trying to gather a horde of goblins together for his new lady boss at her orders. He had promised an army. What he had managed after several days was a handful of goons. Goblins weren’t particularly good at working together. It took a certain amount of bloodlust for them to act in unison, and by attacking and eating Midge, Muckwraithe had hoped to bind this group to him and then attract other goblins who would join them. It was his bad luck that in front of a dive like The Willow, the chosen prey had turned out to be much less of a sure thing than he had thought. It was all that stupid filly’s fault, he thought, and he considered running back in to slit her throat. One leap onto her back and he’d have his hand across her jugular. However, a good look at her—young, strong, and right now, very angry—made him decide to save his revenge for later. Live the day, and later would come. The way her hooves were pawing the turf, he thought she’d like a chance to get her own back at him. Well and good. He felt the same.

  He drifted back into the shadows when he heard the sound preceding the arrival of someone who could move himself magically. He saw an older agent of the PTB materialize in the clearing. The agent touched the filly and then a humming sound signaled their departure. As they left, he heard the other Being call her Midge and he smiled. He’d make sure that was one little centaur who learned the hard way not to cross a goblin.

  “What’s the matter, Mum?” Tooley asked Pernella, who was leaning her face into her hands and shaking her head from side to side.

  “Give me a minute, son, give your old ma a minute.” She continued to rock for a few moments, but finally stopped and sat up. “Okay. Sorry about that. Thought I was gonna be sick, y’know?”

  “Did you eat somethin’ bad, Mommy?” Bogey asked her solicitously.

  “You could say that, if words are somethin’ to eat.” She stood up and started pacing, her pinstriped suit lapels gripped in her hands. “Okay, okay. Lemme think here a minute.”

  The three younger Beings stayed quiet, watching the old gangster witch as she walked, muttering and arguing to herself while shaking her head. Finally, she stopped, turned and smiled.

  “Well, I never thought I’d hear these words blowin’ outta my two lips, but we need to go down to the clubhouse and talk to the coppers, boys.”

  Bogey and Tooley both looked stunned, but Berry held up one hesitant hand, like a child in a schoolroom class. When no one noticed, she coughed, finally getting Pernella’s attention.

  “Whatsa matta, dollface? Ya sick?”

  “No ma’am. I don’t understand. What’s a clubhouse? And a copper?” She ducked her bright pink head. “I’m so confused.”

  “Mum means she wants to go to the police station and talk to police officers.”

  Berry turned to Tooley, “Is that a bad thing?”

  “I keep forgetting you can’t remember anything. Actually, it wouldn’t be that bad, except…” He paused and blushed. “Uhm...we’re, uhm, we’re—”

  “What my son is trying not to tell you, chickee, is that your hero there is a small-time crook, along with his dear old mother.”

  “And me!” Bogart added emphatically. “I’m a crook, too.”

  “Sonny, we know your are, and you know you are, but let’s cheese it on sayin’ you are, savvy? I don’t think you need to spend any time in the joint. You ain’t but fourteen years old. I don’t think even the Geas would push that on ya, kid.”

  “So you smuggle things between Fairie and Mudania,” Berry suddenly looked nervous.

  “Things, Berry. Not people. Never people.” Tooley turned toward her, earnest and anxious that she keep her trust in him. “We had no idea what that creature had in those boxes. We had never worked with those people before that last deal, and we never will again.”

  His mother cackled, enjoying the sight of her oldest son dizzy for a dame half his age.

  “What?” he asked her.

  “Of course, we’ll never work with them again. We’re gonna turn evidence on ‘em, and get into Mundania fair and square.”

  “What?” he said again, feeling like a broken record.

  “We turn those mugs in to the SCIB, turn evidence on them, and the Powers That Be will let us stay in Mundania because it ain’t safe here. We hand them Crystal Winkowski, aka Caridwen that crazy-ass bitch from the Witches’ Council, and they may throw a parade in our honor.”

  “What is a parade?” Berry asked.

  “I think that my mother is indulging in hyperbole,” Tooley said as he frowned at his Pernella. “Why would they be that grateful, Mum?”

  She shrugged. “Do ya really think your little babe is the first Being they’ve smuggled through?” Tooley paled, and she anticipated his thought, throwing out both hands. “Not through us, son. They fooled me this once, and handily, but they had a lot of motivation. Berry’s important to some plan that crazy bitch has. Whatever that plan is, it needs to be nipped, is what it needs. But I’m sure that the folks supplying Crazy Caridwen have done this before. And the coppers will be happy to find someone to queer that lay, no question there. They’ll be happy to bankroll a couple o’ stoolies, son. We’ll be set for life!”

  Tooley looked at Berry and translated. “Mum believes that the folk who sent you through to Caridwen have done this before, illegally transported other Fairie Beings. But she believes that you are specifically important to Caridwen’s plans, and those need to be stopped. She also believes that the police will be so happy to know about all of this, that when we go tell them, they’ll want to set us up in Mundania to live.”

  “I hope Maybelle remembers my guitar,” Bogey said wistfully.

  “We’ll call her and find out, yeah?” Tooley soothed. “But even if she didn’t remember it, we’ll be there, Bogey, in Mundania. You’ll get to go to a Kiss concert. We’ll all go.”

  “Even Berry?” he asked, giving her a sweet smile.

  “I have never been to a kissing concert,” Berry said, “but it sounds...interesting, Bogey. I would like to go with you all, very much.”

  Bogart jumped up and pumped his fist, which knocked his mother off her feet. Luckily for him, she was too happy herself to even call him out on it. This had to be their lucky day.


  Baz sat in the van, watching the vid roll out showing the exterior of the warehouse. The technicians had sent out Naked Eyes to cover the perimeter. Covering his mouth, Baz tried to mask a yawn. He hadn’t slept well after going to Tony’s apartment. He couldn’t believe that it had only been two days since they had started working together. Another yawn split his face and made the length of time a little more believable. He checked his watch. She had said she would come right away to join the stake out, but that was an hour ago. He had started to contact her several times already but had made himself wait. For all he knew, the lieutenant had sent her out on some other lead.

  The other Beings in the van, two Natty officers and two Supers, were watching other views of the warehouse. The one with the front entrance suddenly broke the silence, startling everyone in the room.

  “We have movement at the front door.”

  “Finally!” Baz exclaimed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tony took Bergfrid to the breakroom and made them both cups of tea. Bergfrid stared at the humming microwave oven while Tony waited for the mugs of hot water to heat. When it finished, it played a short, upbeat string of notes.

  “That device makes many noises,” Bergfrid said in a hushed voice, some of her sangfroid disappearing in the face of bizarre kitchen appliances—one woman’s appliance being another woman’s magic.

  “Oh, yeah, it’s a Samsung. The company likes to use happy little tunes to indicate that they’ve finished a task. I love them.”

  Bergfrid looked at her again, opened her mouth as if to ask questions, and then just shook her head. “Where is Sebastian?” she asked, ignoring the mug with its tea bag hanging on the side as Tony set it in front of her.

  “He is on a case right now. I was supposed to be with him, but the lieutenant wanted me here. Turns out that was good, since you showed up.” Tony looked down at her mug and casually dipped the bag in and out. “How did you show up?”