Sorry, I mouthed, and set about unpacking the provisions while listening to Stuart just attentively enough to make noncommittal sounds in the proper places. I’d located the wine and was crafting a plausible pocket corkscrew under the table when I heard him say, “I’m afraid these charlatans are like bees to honey with conventions, Meghan, so we may run across a few on Saturday. Never fear, I know how to spot them a mile away.”
You’re thinking of flies to honey, I almost said, then replayed what I had heard and snapped up from my work. “Saturday? What’s happening Saturday?”
Stuart’s eyes practically twinkled. “Paranormal convention in Richmond,” he replied. “Meghan and I are driving over to see the wares. We’re expecting several of the top small-press publishers in the field, excellent material. I’d invite you along,” he added with a mockery of an apologetic smile, “but I’m afraid you’d find it incredibly dull. And anyway, my car only seats two.”
“Meggy has a sedan,” I said, fighting the urge to slap the grin off his face.
“Yes, but I’d hate to ask her to drive,” he replied, calmly unwrapping his pastrami on rye. “Besides, this really is an industry event—we’ll be looking at books all day, and you…” He paused to give me a condescending once-over. “Well, Chip, all you’d bring to the party would be bad vibes. A convention like this is no place for a skeptic,” he concluded, pronouncing the final word as if he desperately needed to spit out something foul and was trying to be polite.
I kept telling myself to be the bigger man and let it go, but then Stuart reached over and patted my Meggy’s hand.
There were six picnic tables in that pavilion. The unoccupied five burst into splinters, one by one, as Meggy screamed and ducked under our table for safety. Stuart jumped onto the cluttered tabletop, spread his hands, and began yelling an incantation at the troublesome spirit, but then a log just happened to fly up from the closest table explosion, slam into his stomach, and throw him off his feet.
I admit now that it was petty, childish, and completely unnecessary, but I felt so much better once I’d knocked the wind out of him.
As I sat there, placidly soaking in the destruction, Meggy grabbed my ankle and dragged me under the table. “The hell?” she hissed as Stuart wheezed above us. “What is your problem?”
“Run…” Stuart gasped. “Run, Meghan…I…fight…”
“You could have killed him,” she whispered. Her furious glare suggested she’d rather be shouting.
“Just say the word,” I whispered back.
She slid away from me, her expression a blend of shock and disgust, then slapped me across the face. “Hold on, Stuart, I’m going to help you,” she said, climbing out from under the table. “You hang on, buddy, I think it’s gone. Come on, up and at ’em.”
Stunned, I sat in the sand and dirt under the table, rubbing my smarting cheek, as Meggy coaxed Stuart to his feet and half-carried him out of the pavilion. And when they had shrunk to shadows in the parking lot, I finally looked around again, watched the fine wood particles fall through a shaft of sunlight from the leaking roof, and felt very small indeed.
Repairing the picnic tables was a moment’s work, but I had no idea what to do about Meggy. I’d never seen her so angry, and experience counseled that the last person she wanted to see at that moment was me, regardless of whether I came with an apology. But that left me with a conundrum—Valerius was gone, Greg and I hadn’t spoken since Aiden left the silo, and I knew with all certainty that I had no desire to relate what I’d done to Joey or my brother. Slim wouldn’t open his doors until six, and something told me that Mrs. Cooper, though exasperated with her grandnephew’s antics, would be less than sympathetic.
And so, fresh out of options, I found myself walking into the lobby of Sacred Heart’s parish office. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I felt a twinge of the Catholic guilt that seemed to permeate the building. “Is Father Paul in?” I asked the receptionist, a dour-looking crone in an incongruously cheery pink sweater with frolicking cats around the collar.
She glanced up from her computer and pursed her pale lips. “Do you have an appointment, young man?”
“No. Tell him it’s Colin.”
She seemed to disapprove of my continued presence in the lobby, but she picked up the phone and tapped out an extension. “Colin…”
“Leffee,” I finished, retreating to the sofa and its faded needlepoint pillows of the Virgin and Child. “If he’s not busy.”
The person at the other end answered, and she shushed me with her free hand. “Father, there’s someone here to see you, a Mr. Leffee? Are you…yes, all right, I’ll tell him.” She hung up and frowned back at me. “He’ll see you. Down the hall, third door on the left.”
I mumbled the requisite thanks and slipped past her, then rapped on Paul’s door and let myself in. “Got a moment?”
“Should have a few left,” he replied, wincing as he rose from his desk. “What, your phone’s tapped now? Come in, sit down,” he said, and pointed to a pair of well-worn armchairs. “What’s the trouble? I haven’t been called in—”
“Nothing like that,” I said, closing the door. “And that’s a lovely receptionist you have.”
“Yes, Doris is a peach,” he muttered, settling into one of the chairs, “but she’s the only person around here who understands the payroll software, so we’re stuck together. Is Joseph all right? I haven’t seen him in a few weeks—what’s he doing these days, anyhow?”
I took the other chair and rested my forehead on my fingertips. “Raising a dragon, but that’s not why I’m here.”
“He’s doing what?”
“He can tell you himself at his next confession. I…” I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes. “I fucked up with Meggy.”
His chair creaked as he settled himself in. “You want to tell me about it?”
And so I did—Stuart, lunch, the pavilion, the tables, the slap that still stung, everything. When I finished, I looked up again and found him watching me, legs crossed, fingers steepled under his chin. “So what do I do?” I asked.
The priest blinked, then glanced at the brown water stain on the ceiling. “Well, setting aside for the moment the fact that you’ve come to me, of all people, for relationship advice,” he replied, “you give it time, and you give her space, because yeah, old timer, you fucked that one up pretty thoroughly.”
“No absolution and Hail Marys?”
“You know, something tells me the Blessed Mother’s not going to help you out on this one,” he said with a smirk. “In all seriousness, I’d give it at least a few days before you come crawling back—and I do mean the crawling bit,” he added, giving me a hard look over his reading glasses. “One doesn’t just get over seeing one’s, uh…partner in a jealous rage, particularly when said partner is you. For heaven’s sake, Colin, what were you thinking?”
I leaned back against the chair and sighed. “I have a temper—”
“Tell me something I didn’t know.”
“I have a temper,” I repeated, giving him a pointed glare, “and he was provoking me. I mean, when you think about it, he was practically asking for it.”
“Colin.”
“And he’s trying to steal Meggy!” I continued, ignoring Paul’s disapproval. “I’m sitting right there, and he’s going on about taking her on a trip, and he looks at me like I’m some sort of imbecile—”
“So you knock the ever-loving crap out of him? Scare him half to death?” he retorted. “You think the way to Meggy’s heart is by making her fear you?”
“Of course not!” I protested. “He—”
“Forget about him. This is about you.” Paul leaned forward and stared at me silently until I met his eyes. “I’ve seen what you’re capable of,” he said softly. “There have been times out there that you’ve put the fear of God in me, and I had a pretty healthy fear of Him to begin with.”
I sputtered for a few seconds before I could formulate a response. “P
aul, you know me! Have I ever hurt you?”
“Not seriously. Not on purpose, anyway,” he allowed. “But when you lose it…Colin,” he sighed, “I’ve seen you in judge-jury-executioner mode. Don’t get me wrong,” he hastily added, “you’re damn good at what you do, and anyone in the know appreciates it. But it’s one thing to know how you operate, and it’s quite another to be standing two feet away from the firefight.” Paul spread his gnarled hands. “I like you, Colin. I’ve trusted you more times than I can count. But I’m going to be honest—you scare me sometimes.”
“But I—”
“I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose,” he continued over my protestations. “But step back and try to put yourself in my shoes, eh? I like to think I’m a halfway decent priest, but I was a lousy fighter in my prime, and that was ages ago. And I’m out there pitted against something I can’t see half the damn time, fighting with you—and let’s face it, unless you wind up down a silver mine, you’re pretty much invincible.”
“Hardly.”
“Compared to me, you are. And then there’s the fireballs, the lightning, the acid that once—remember, you melted holes in that hotel’s carpet?—the…you know, the magic. I can’t wield magic,” he murmured. “I can’t even sense it. It could be all around me, and I’d never know it.”
I sniffed, detecting a faint, familiar whiff of citronella. “It is all around you.”
“Exactly. Can’t see it, can’t touch it, can’t use it—can’t protect myself from it. I know you’ve looked out for me,” he said before I could counter that, “but when we’re out there together, I’m at your mercy. And having seen what happens to those who make you angry…”
He let that thought die unfinished and waited.
After a long moment, I cleared my throat. “I’ve never lashed out at you. I never would.”
“I realize that. You’re still one scary son of a bitch.” He paused, but I had no defense to offer. “If you really love Meggy—and something tells me you do—you’ll rein it in,” he continued. “Prove to her you’re not a complete psychopath.” He saw me stiffen and held up one finger. “I’m not saying you are—I’m saying you acted like one. Am I wrong?”
“No,” I admitted, dropping my eyes to the rug to avoid his stare. “I try not to.”
“I know that. And I know it’s in you,” he said gently. “You are what you are, I’m not damning you. But I know that my friend can be better than that. Yes?”
His words hung there for a long moment, and I finally nodded. “Thank you.”
“Of course. But do us all a favor and stay away from Meggy for a while, hmm? I’m sure she’s doing her own thinking right now.” He leaned back again and snorted. “Seriously, you threw a bench into him?”
“Not a whole bench…”
“The fact that we’re using qualifiers is enough. Are you really that insecure? You think you’re going to lose her to some third-rate pagan?”
“I lost her once,” I snapped. “Jack Horn, remember?”
“Oh, I remember,” said Paul as he folded his arms. “I remember how Meggy came to me for weeks after you ran off, begging me to help her find you. And I certainly remember how I lied to that girl’s face to cover your ass.”
Paul had a point, and we both knew it. “I’ve never felt about anyone how I feel about her,” I muttered. “And for that little shit to try to take her from me—”
“What you’re not understanding is that she’s not his to take. She’s not yours to take, either. She’s not a damn trophy, Colin.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m not entirely certain that I do, actually,” he replied. “Do we need to have a talk about women’s liberation? They haven’t been chattel in quite a while.”
“I did live through the twentieth century,” I retorted. “And I’ve never thought of Meggy as…chattel. But he’s blatantly trying to steal—”
“Again with the property,” Paul interrupted. “Here, try to see it like this instead: she’s not a possession you two idiots fight to own. She gives an interest in herself to whomsoever she chooses, just as you give an interest in yourself to her. And if something changes, she takes that interest back.” He let that sink in, then said, “You don’t fight for her by annihilating anyone who crosses her path and gives her a second look. You fight with yourself to be the man she loves. But what do I know?” he asked, linking his hands behind his head. “I’m only the exorcist in the room. That’s my two cents’ worth, whatever it means to you.”
“Appreciated,” I replied, leaning on the armrest. “And what’s your going rate for therapy these days?”
“Seeing as I’m still unlicensed,” he said with a grin, “it’s gratis. Just tell Joseph to stop by. I need to hear about this new enterprise of his.” He pushed himself from his chair with a little grunt. “Dragon, you say?”
“She’s kind of cute for an oversized lizard.”
He shook his head brusquely. “No such thing as a cute lizard. What are we talking, something like a komodo dragon?”
“Something like a dragon dragon.”
Paul looked down at me, then slowly rubbed his hand over his face. “Colin, I’m trusting you with that nice kid,” he muttered. “Please don’t let him get eaten. I’m already on the seminary’s blacklist since he dropped out—they’re never going to give me an assistant again if I get one killed. Just…tell him to come to confession. I’m sure he needs it by now.”
Some might suggest that taking relationship advice from a man who considered himself married to the Church was a risky proposition, but Paul had a sense for people, and he’d never shied away from telling me when I was making an ass of myself. And so I resolved to keep my distance from Meggy for a time—at least through the weekend. Surely, I reasoned, I could last that long.
Of course, that meant avoiding Rigby’s game that Friday.
I tried breaking the news to Aiden with little explanation, but he saw the truth almost immediately. “You and Meggy had a fight, didn’t you?” he said, continuing to tighten a wrist screw on the sort of exoskeleton he’d constructed around his left hand.
“Something like that,” I muttered. “And what the hell is—”
“Bioelectric control unit.” He dropped the screwdriver onto the midden masquerading as a desk, then swiveled in his chair, extended his hand toward the cooler, and beckoned with two fingers. A light atop the cooler’s lid switched from amber to green, the motor purred, and the cooler lurched forward across the field of detritus hiding Aiden’s floor. He waited until it had almost closed the distance, then turned his palm out, throwing on the brakes. A flick of finger and thumb opened the lid, and he looked back at me with a cocked eyebrow.
“How much time did you spend alone in your room last year?” I asked, trying to puzzle out how he’d accomplished the trick without betraying my own ignorance.
“Enough.” He gestured until the cooler’s light flipped back to amber, then slid his hand out of the control scaffolding and set it aside. “I’d offer you a go with it, but it’s mostly steel,” he said apologetically. “Well, that, and it’s sized for my hand. No point in building a robot army if anyone could steal the controls, right? So, since you’re not going to the game, how about dropping me off after halftime so I can make it to the beach before the keg gets tapped?” My expression must have shifted, as he quickly added, “Hey, I’m not the one with girl problems. And I’ve never been to a beach party—there’s a distinct lack of beaches in Montana.”
“There’s a beach here, you know,” I pointed out. “And a visiting horde of merrow, which is one up on Rigby.”
His brow knit. “Of what?”
“Merrow. Mermaids, but don’t call them that, it’s offensive.”
“Seriously?” he yelped. “Like in—”
“Ask Joey for the details,” I replied. “He has stories. And kickoff’s at six tomorrow night, so if you’re still set on this bacchanalia, I’ll drop you at Meggy’s around seven.�
�
I left Aiden to his own devices and retired to my office to flip through correspondence—several of my more frequent petitioners, having wised up to the fact that I was avoiding them, had put their disputes in writing instead. Three letters in, however, my phone began to beep, and I flipped it open with hope in my heart. “Hello, Meggy?”
“I thought we’d agreed never to speak of the merrow incident again,” Joey muttered on the other end. “Dude, not cool.”
I heard not a peep from Aiden all Friday night, which left me torn between assuming the festivities were going well and fearing my brother was enjoying the warm hospitality of the Rigby PD. When my office clock told me dawn had come to Virginia, I popped over and wandered down to the public beach, but found the shore deserted. The tide was washing in a telltale red plastic cup, however, and so I backtracked against the current, crossing the private acreage of Rigby’s wealthier families until I stumbled upon the scene of the night’s revels. The few girls remaining had either passed out on the party house’s sprawling porch or in the pair of hammocks, but the boys had bedded down in the sand, which had chilled unpleasantly during the clear night. I found Aiden shivering in his sleep a foot above the rising tide line, curled around his now empty cooler, and nudged him awake. “Ready to go?” I asked as he sat up and shook the sand from his hair.
“Nng,” he agreed, powering the cooler on for the trip home, and trudged after me up to the main road and onto a pine-covered vacant lot, an unimproved victim of the last hurricane. When I was sure we were alone, I opened a gate into his bedroom, and Aiden, nearly sleepwalking, stumbled through with his toy. The sight of his bed triggered something instinctive within him, and he shuffled through his workshop, tapped the cooler off, and flopped onto his stomach, still wearing his control unit. I hesitated, considering whether I should try to work it off his hand, then gave up, covered him, and headed to breakfast.
Before I could cross the scrap heap, however, I heard Aiden mumble, “Olive’s got a boyfriend.”
“She does?” I asked, turning about, but Aiden’s breathing had slowed. A few seconds later, he began to snore.
The Faerie King Page 19
