by E.J. Stevens
That wasn’t the scariest thing in the room, not by a long shot.
I’d located the source of the tapping. Two children huddled on the floor, their knobby knees and the jut of their collar bones painful to witness. They leaned into each other in a one-armed embrace, teeth chattering against a cold I couldn’t feel.
“You can see them, can’t you?” Maggie asked, voice hopeful and eyes pleading.
“She doesn’t mean the bones on the floor, does she?” Jinx whispered from where she stood at my back.
“No, Jinx,” I said. “But those bones are important. I’d put money on it.”
In fact, the corpse huddled around the children’s tiny forms, giving them comfort, even in death.
“Can you help them?” Maggie asked.
I glanced from Maggie to the body on the floor, and took a deep breath. I lifted my eyes to the children, turning my head to use the full strength of my second sight. The children flickered, but I caught a glimpse of rows of needle-like teeth, too many teeth for their gaunt faces.
Tap, tap-tap, tap. The chattering continued, and I winced.
“What...what did you do?” I asked.
“What any good mother would do, or so I thought,” she said. “I eased their suffering. I kept them alive. I didn’t know what would happen to them.”
I was going to ask what she meant, but my mind finally caught up with what my eyes were seeing. They didn’t have mouths ringed red and sticky from berry preserves and the youngest wasn’t holding a doll to her chest. The little girl stroked a clump of her mother’s hair.
“You were starving,” I said.
Maggie nodded, eyes never leaving her children.
“They were excited for the snow, at first,” she said. “It came late that year, but it more than made up for its tardiness. The winter was never-ending. And for them, it never will end. Not without your help.”
“What can I do?” I asked.
“Tell them that they are good children,” she said. “They did what they were told. They mustn’t suffer for my evil act.”
I frowned, but stepped forward and crouched down, careful not to touch the body at my feet. Being cannibalized was one vision I sure as hell didn’t want to get sucked into.
“Ivy, what are you doing?” Jinx hissed.
What was I doing? I looked at the children, using my second sight to see every detail. Their teeth wasn’t the only unnatural anomaly. Vein-like tendrils connected the children to the fleshy cabinets and gelatinous floor.
“Maggie’s children are tethered here,” I said, replying to Jinx.
I glanced up at Maggie, searching her face for clues. Her eyes were wide, but she leaned forward.
“Is that why they couldn’t move on?” she asked. “Can you...?”
“I’m no expert,” I said, cutting her off. “But from what I see, this house is feeding on the children’s suffering. If I’m right, it might not like us removing its food supply.”
“Is this a bad time to mention I’m not really dressed to battle a haunted house that feeds on the suffering of dead kids?” Jinx asked.
“Wishing you’d taken your chances with the Hunger Grass?” I asked.
“Hell, yes,” she said. “But you’re not leaving, are you?”
“Hell, no,” I said.
“Fine, but, for the record, I’m totally cool with you losing your weirdo street cred,” she said.
“What happened to the stranger the better?” I asked.
“Our client is dead, the house is alive, and there’s grass in the yard with the ability to create ravenous wendigos,” she said. “That’s what happened.”
I’d been watching the children while Jinx rambled. They didn’t respond to Maggie or Jinx, but I could have sworn their eyes slid to me more than once. Maybe my second sight allowed some creatures to see me more clearly.
“My name is Ivy Granger,” I said. “What’s yours?”
They didn’t reply, but both children turned their heads my way, unblinking. A low growling rose from their stomachs, and they stared at me with a feral gleam in their eyes. At least I had their attention.
Fear slithered along my spine and my glance darted around the room. Did Maggie invite us here to bring her children peace or dinner? I had to try to rescue the kids no matter my client’s motives.
“I’m a friend of your mom’s,” I said.
Walls spasmed and red tears ran in rivulets down the children’s cheeks.
“Ivy, did you feel that?” Jinx asked.
“Stay there and don’t move unless I say so,” I said.
Predators chase their prey. And these two stopped being innocent children long ago.
“Your mom is here and she loves you very much,” I said. “You’ve been very good, but she needs you to do one more very hard thing.”
“B-b-bad,” the boy said.
“No, you’re not,” I said.
“H-h-hungry,” the little girl moaned.
“You don’t have to ever be hungry again,” I said. “You can move on and be with your mom again.”
I had no idea if what I said was true, but words have a magic of their own and there were strong energies in this house.
I tapped into my own sense of emptiness at losing a parent, a hole in the pit of my stomach and an ache in my chest that would never go away. I channeled a child’s yearning for their parents and told the ghost children what they needed to hear.
They were good. They were loved. They were going home.
The more I talked the more convinced I was that I could save them. And just like that, a door opened and the children turned to face my client.
“Mommy?”
“Take my hand,” Maggie said, reaching for her children. “We’re going home.”
The room shuddered, and Jinx lost her balance, but I kept my eyes on the children and the veins that tethered them to the house.
“We were bad,” the girl said.
“No, my beautiful precious boy and girl,” Maggie said. “You did exactly what your foolish mother asked of you. Can you forgive me?”
They ran to her, and as they reached the end of their fleshy chains, I sliced the veins with my blade. The knife was silver-tipped iron and sprinkled with holy water. I had no idea what the house was, but the veins blackened and withered, retracting with lightning speed.
Maggie mouthed “thank you” over the children’s heads and stepped through the glowing door.
I heard her voice through the light, calling out in a cheerful voice.
“Come on, Fluffy,” she said. “Time to go home.”
Something brushed my leg and purring filled my ears. Then it moved away and the door snapped shut.
My ears popped and Jinx frowned.
“Was that a cat?” she asked.
I blinked away tears.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think we’ll be getting paid for this job,” I said.
Jinx looked around the dusty kitchen and groaned. The house was once again a mundane structure, the only oddities were the three bodies resting in each other’s arms.
“We’re never going to see a dime,” Jinx said, staggering to the door.
The light was painfully bright, but I tilted my head to the sky and shrugged.
It’s hard to pay the bills when you’re dead. But if you die in a city filled with random faerie magic and have Ivy Granger on the case, you sure as Hell can settle your debts.
BLOOD AND MISTLETOE
Introduction
Welcome to Harborsmouth, where monsters walk the streets unseen by humans…except those with second sight.
Whether visiting our modern business district or exploring the cobblestone lanes of the Old Port quarter, please enjoy your stay. When you return home, do tell your friends about our wonderful city—just leave out any supernatural details.
Don’t worry—most of our guests never experience anything unusual. Otherworlders, such as faeries, vampires, and ghouls, are quite adept at hiding within
the shadows. Many are also skilled at erasing memories. You may wake in the night screaming, but you won’t recall why. Be glad that you don’t remember—you are one of the fortunate ones.
If you do encounter something unnatural, we recommend the services of Ivy Granger, Psychic Detective. Co-founder of Private Eye detective agency, Ivy Granger is a relatively new member of our small business community. Her offices can be found on Water Street, in the heart of the Old Port.
Miss Granger has a remarkable ability to receive visions by the act of touching an object. This skill is useful in her detective work, especially when locating lost items. Whether you are looking for a lost brooch or missing persons, no job is too big or too small for Ivy Granger—but you may be on her waiting list for awhile. Hopefully, you are not in dire need of her immediate services. After her role in recent events, where she was instrumental in saving our city, Miss Granger’s business is booming.
If matters are particularly grim, we can also provide, upon request, a list of highly skilled undertakers. If you are in need of their services, then we also kindly direct you to Harborsmouth Cemetery Realty. It’s never too early to contact them, since we have a booming “housing” market. Demand is quite high for a local plot—there are always people dying for a place to stay.
Happy holidays!
Chapter 1
I woke to the smell of gingerbread and coffee. Too bad the two were one and the same.
“This is why I hate the holidays,” I muttered into my cup. “Who messes around with a perfectly good cup of coffee?”
“You’re just grumpy because Ceffyl stood you up last night,” Jinx said.
“Well, it was a lame excuse,” I said.
I dropped my gloved hands into my lap, staring through a sheet of sleep mussed hair at the snowmen that danced maniacally around my pajama pants. I was pouting. Damn, I never pout, but I had been excited about our date last night. Which in retrospect was silly—I hate Christmas.
But this was my first holiday season with a boyfriend and I had wanted to do all of the normal date stuff. Instead, I sat home and watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer for the gazillionth time. Jinx had suggested wearing the Christmas pj’s we’d exchanged as gifts last year. I traced the smiling snowmen with a gloved finger, wishing I could be that happy for once.
Ceff had promised to take me to the tree lighting in Fountain Square. I didn’t like crowds, and usually avoided them like the plague, but Ceff had lured me with promises of hot chocolate and my weight in peppermint cookies. He also said he had a present for me.
My heart thumped and I shivered as chill fingers of fear and anticipation ran up my spine. What kind of gift would a kelpie king give me?
Would it be something pretty, romantic, practical, magical—would it drive me insane?
I discovered early in life that touching unknown objects could lead to terrifying visions. I was nine years old when my psychic gift reared its ugly, traumatizing head. I’ve been wary of receiving gifts ever since.
Strong emotions leave behind an imprint. People like me, with a talent for psychometry, can tap into that psychic imprint and see glimpses of an object or persons’ past.
Psychometry requires physical contact, thank Mab. That’s the reason why I wear gloves twenty-four-seven. It’s definitely not a fashion statement—Jinx is the fashionista in this friendship. I had learned the hard way that covering my hands helped to keep me sane.
Too bad an impermeable, full body suit wasn’t practical. In fact, it would be potentially fatal. I may be part fae, but my human half still has to breathe. Plus, Jinx would never let me leave our loft apartment dressed in a full body condom. That would be breaking too many fashion rules. Alas, I should have been a pooka.
“Pfft,” Jinx said with a shrug. “Ceffyl is king of the kelpies, give the guy a break. I’m sure he isn’t thrilled to be swimming in the freezing cold ocean while negotiating boring hunting treaties between kelpie and selkie tribes.”
It was true. Ceffyl hadn’t been happy about cancelling our date. He’d broken a length of wooden railing in frustration when the call came in.
*****
We’d been walking along the waterfront under the stars, our new favorite pastime, when Ceff had stopped to stare intently at the bay. Ceff leaned casually against the railing, but I could hear his teeth grinding over the lapping sound of the waves.
A head surfaced near the docks, bobbing like a fishing buoy on the gentle waves of the harbor. The water fae waved its webbed hands and began speaking to Ceff in a high-pitched chatter that sounded similar to the squeaks and chirps of dolphin song. The words were unintelligible to my ears, but the message was clear. Ceff was needed elsewhere.
And when duty calls, kelpie kings have to listen. He wasn’t happy about it. Storm clouds passed across Ceff’s dark green eyes, making them shift to black, and he held the railing in a white-knuckled grip.
Ceff nodded once toward the bay and, with a strange bobbing bow, the water fae messenger returned to the dark waters from which he came. Ceff continued to stare into the harbor as if he could alter the message the tides had brought him by will alone. I held my breath and waited.
“I regret that I must cancel our date for tomorrow evening,” Ceff said.
His voice sounded calm, like a gentle burbling stream, but the shattered railing beneath his hands told another story.
“But it’s the tree lighting,” I said. “It only happens once a year. Can’t they wait one day?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “My people and a neighboring selkie tribe are both insistent that if they do not gain exclusive fishing rights over one small patch of ocean, then they will starve to death. It is foolishness, and I suspect the truth behind the dispute will have little to do with food supplies, but I must go before a small argument spirals into a war between the water fae. It is my duty.”
“Do you really think they’d wind up killing each other over a patch of water and some fish?” I asked.
“Fae wars have been started over much less,” he said. “But do not worry. Selkies are some of the most peaceful of our kind. I am sure I can negotiate a treaty and return before the Winter Solstice.”
“Okay,” I said lamely. “At least we can still make it to Kaye’s solstice celebration.”
“Yes,” he said. “Have you enquired about the dress code? Witches can be very particular about their festivals and ritual gatherings, especially the eight annual Sabbats.”
Kaye had mentioned the dress code for her party alright. I felt my face burn.
“Clothing is optional,” I said. I shook my head. “I’m going to need therapy after this party, but Kaye has done a lot to help me over the past few months. I can’t turn down her invitation.”
“Madam O’Shaye has done much for us all,” he said.
True, Kaye did help to save the entire city of Harborsmouth. The least we could do was attend her holiday ritual.
“Well, don’t get too excited about the dress code,” I said. “I’m wearing clothing. Not really a big fan of public nudity, or hypothermia.”
“I can think of ways to keep warm,” he said. His eyes smoldered, shifting from black to bright luminous green.
I took an involuntary step back. Not at Ceff’s otherness, I actually thought his glowing eyes were sexy, but at the threat of what they promised.
Ceff and I had been dating for a few months now, but we hadn’t actually touched yet. No hand holding or stolen kisses in the dark. I had already experienced traumatic visions from handling a piece of Ceff’s bridle and wasn’t quite ready to risk touching the man himself. Coming into physical contact with something old always increased the risk of multiple visions, and Ceff was ancient. What would it be like to kiss an immortal kelpie king?
I wasn’t ready to find out, yet.
I dug in my pocket, covering my retreat by checking my phone. No new messages. That in itself was a Christmas miracle.
Ever since I agreed to take Forneus’ first case,
and helped to protect the city against invading, bloodthirsty each uisge, our phones had been ringing off the hook. Jinx had cases scheduled for every day of the week going into the New Year. Business at Private Eye investigations was booming.
Apparently, the fae who lived in Harborsmouth were in need of a private investigator. Jinx and I were happy to fill that niche. But working with fae meant calls at all hours, and Jinx could only field so many of our clients.
More often than not, the job was something that couldn’t wait. When someone with fangs and claws shows up and says it’s urgent, you know it’s a real emergency. Your options are to either drop everything or turn tail and run. I really picked the wrong time for a social life.
I guess I should give Ceff a break. I’d had to cancel my share of dates due to emergency cases.
But now here we were, Ceff and I alone with no beasties breathing down my neck for the services of Ivy Granger psychic detective and Ceff had to leave.
Story of my life.
*****
Jinx rolled her eyes at me while I went back to sipping my noxious coffee. I was at Jinx’s mercy when it came to the grocery shopping, since touching shopping carts and bags of coffee beans was always a bad idea, so I tried to keep her in a good mood. Maybe I could convince her to buy some real coffee. The kind that didn’t taste like it was brewed with cookies, or someone’s old fruit cake.
“Sorry, you’re right,” I said. “Ceff didn’t really want to go. I’m just frustrated.”
“Of course you’re frustrated,” Jinx said. She put a hand on one voluptuous hip and pointed a well-manicured finger at me. “You’re a twenty-four-year-old virgin.”
“Well…well, I have a unicorn!” I said.
I crossed my arms wishing Jinx would butt out of my non-existent sex life. I’d hoped that she’d back off once I started dating. Instead, my relationship with Ceff just seemed to fuel her need to interfere.
Jinx turned and wiped her eyes with a dish towel. Was she crying? I was grumpy, but Jinx was used to my mood swings, especially before my first cup of coffee. She set down the towel, looked at me, and started laughing.
