Fantasy Short Stories: Five Fantastic Tales

by Quincy J. Allen

  “The Godfairy,” he grumbled.

  “Seriously?”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  “No,” I said. “Look, I think I can sort this out.”

  He looked at me hopefully. “Do you really think you can help me?”

  “I’m not helping you, Governor.” I watched his hope crumble like the burning timbers of a fire-gutted cottage. “I’m doing this to repay a debt I owe Ironsoul—and for a little girl who I suspect just lost her best and possibly only friend.”

  He didn’t say a word.

  I stood up and stepped past him, dusting off the seat of my trousers. I walked up to the glass door and opened it.

  “Oh, and Governor,” I said over my shoulder. “Don’t do anything until you hear from me—probably later today.”

  “Don’t worry. All I can really do is sit here and wait for an avalanche to hit me.”

  “That’s a good way to look at it,” I added and stepped through the door. As I walked down the hallway, I heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs. Darian met me at the bottom.

  “Mr. Capaldi?” she asked meekly. I could tell she was embarrassed to ask for whatever she wanted.

  “What can I do for you, Darian?” I knelt down, so we were eye to eye.

  She suddenly stiffened, and I saw fire in her eyes. “I want you to get the people who did this to Dancer!” she blurted.

  It broke my heart to see a kid that young get her first desire for revenge. The world can be tough on the innocent, even in Fairyland.

  “I’m gonna do my best to sort this out, kiddo,” I said. “But don’t get too wrapped up in revenge. It’s a bad business, and once you’re in, it’s impossible to get back out again.”

  She tilted her head to the side, contemplating my words. “I think I understand.”

  “I hope so, Darian. And there’s something you should always remember, especially in Fairyland. Not everything you see is real.” I smiled as I rose and patted her on the head. “I’ll see you later,” I added and walked out the door.

  As I strode down the stone steps, I saw a lavish, golden carriage coming up the long drive. Stopping at the bottom, I waited for it to pull up. A solid-looking dwarf in a smart-looking chauffer’s uniform sat high in the driver’s seat. He gave me a rather unfriendly sneer as he pulled back on the reins and set the hand brake.

  Another dwarf opened the carriage door and stepped down quickly, pulling out a small stepladder as he bowed to a particularly plump female dwarf with stern features. Where I come from the only term that would describe her is battle-axe, but I knew enough about dwarves to know she was a real looker.

  She looked at me like I was yesterday’s garbage. Clearly, she was not a dwarf to be trifled with.

  “Who in Ulion are you?” she demanded as she approached, looking up at me.

  “Vincent Capaldi, Mrs. Hammerhand.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “It won’t apply for much longer.”

  She brushed past me without another word. She’d obviously heard about the boudoir—probably from one of the staff keeping tabs on her husband. “I understand, ma’am,” I said to her retreating backside. I had no doubt she was headed into the house to let the governor know her lawyer had been instructed to go for his cojones.

  “The scandal is going to be rough on you, isn’t it?” I asked.

  She spun on me like a cobra. “What do you know about it?” she spat. Clearly Darian got those fiery eyes from her mother.

  “Well, I know you love your daughter. I know your soon-to-be-ex doesn’t like unicorns. And I know that females of your stature hate having dirty laundry aired out in public.” I softened my tone the best I could. “Am I wrong?”

  She hesitated, her eyes more calculating than the Governor’s had been. “No.” She paused, and her demeanor changed from anger to worry. “Who are you, again?”

  “Vincent Capaldi. That doesn’t mean anything to you. What I am should interest you a great deal.”

  “And what are you?”

  “I’m the private detective who is going to fix this.”

  “Oh, really?” she asked, incredulous.

  “I think so.” I smiled. “Detective Ironsoul brought me in because I’m good at what I do.”

  “You’d have to be to sort out this nightmare.” She sounded angry and hopeless and disgusted.

  “I figure I have a pretty good chance to do just that, ma’am.”

  “I’d be indebted if you did.”

  “I want to ask a favor, then, and the reason I’m asking is for a little girl who lost her unicorn today.”

  Her calculating eyes softened into motherly concern, just as I’d hoped. “What do you want?” she asked.

  “Don’t do anything hasty with the governor. Let him have it with both barrels—I doubt the gods themselves could prevent that—but don’t give him any ultimatums until I get back.”

  “That’s a rather large request, Mr. Capaldi.”

  I saw her weighing options.

  “Just give me the day. I know you have no reason to trust me, but as I see it, you don’t have anything to lose.”

  She paused for a moment, and then made her decision. “Alright,” she said with finality. “The day.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be back in a few hours. How does that sound?”

  “I was, in fact, going to suggest just that,” she added, and her tone indicated it wasn’t going to be a suggestion.

  “Good. Now would it be possible for me to get a lift back into town in your carriage? The constables who dropped me off left me here.”

  “If you can do as you say, you can have the thing.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Deal,” I replied. “And thank you.”

  She nodded and marched into the house with a stiff back and a stern look. I pictured her with a double-barreled shotgun, breech open as she thumbed a couple of shells into the chambers. I didn’t envy the governor’s ears for the next few hours.

  I stepped up to the door of the carriage. “Home, James!” I shouted to the driver, who was still sneering at me.

  “My name isn’t James,” he growled.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I just always wanted to say that.” I smiled at him. “Take me to the nearest library.”

  His sneer transformed into surprise.

  “Please,” I added.

  He shrugged once and nodded.

  I got into a plush interior of blue velvet, felt the carriage lurch, and settled down to sleep off as much of my hangover as I could before we arrived.

  O O O

  Standing there at the railing of the racetrack, looking out at a carnival of dwarves, elves, orcs, and trolls, I realized why I loved being there. Don’t get me wrong. I love libraries too. I solve a lot of cases with the treasures buried within those sacred walls, which is why I’d gone there first. But a racetrack is a very special place. It’s where people chase riches, where hope blossoms, and where dreams are generally crushed by the reality of long odds. And yet people keep coming back. It’s like the gods boiled down the sum of existence into two minutes of thundering hooves, snapping whips, and screaming spectators.

  I’d left the carriage—and the surly driver—in an open field outside the racetrack. I’d also left a copy of Fairies: Their Culture and Traditions sitting upon a bed of blue velvet. I’d gotten what I needed after flipping through it and was ready to deal with a fairy who could probably snuff out my life with the snap of her tiny fingers. One of the first things I learned in this place is that fairies are dangerous. Maybe that’s the reason the place was named after them. It might also be the reason Lumpy gave me this gig—he knew where the bread crumbs led.

  Most people in Fairyland joke about how it’s bad luck to hurt a fairy. I didn’t believe that when I first arrived, but I sure as hell believe it now. I’d learned the hard way, and the lesson cost me a pinky finger. I’d shot a fairy who’d gone bad back when I still had bullets for my .38. That’s another long story, one I w
ish I could forget.

  I rubbed the stub of my left pinky and considered what I was about to do. With a fairy. I have to admit, I felt fear creep in between the cracks of my hangover. And it’s that fear—fear of instant and inescapable retribution—that lets the little bastards pretty much run the show when they want to.

  Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I turned and headed for the restroom. After doing my business, I asked an old goblin selling hand towels where I could place a sizeable bet. I hinted that I was looking for a gruff little fairy that ran the show at the track. He held out his hand, whereby I produced a single gold coin, and he muttered a box number.

  The box was, naturally, at the top of the grandstands. As I trudged up each flight of steps, my hangover took the opportunity to remind me that it could hang with the best of them. At the top, I scanned the doors and headed towards where a couple of gruff-looking elves stood on either side.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” I said as I approached. They both looked at me and smiled. They were two of my three drinking buddies from the night before. “How’s the hangover, guys?” I asked.

  “We don’t get those,” one of them said, a superior smile on his face.

  “I wish I could say the same,” I replied, chuckling painfully as I rubbed my temple.

  “You look terrible,” the other observed.

  “Thanks.” I stepped up, and they tensed a bit. Bodyguards doing their job, I thought.

  “What can we do for you, Capaldi?” the first one asked.

  I tried to remember his name but couldn’t. “I’m here to see your boss, actually.”

  “Not possible,” the second replied, and there was a fair amount of threat in his voice.

  I looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Just tell her that I’m here for the Governor.” Their eyes went wide. I guess the hired hands were well-informed.

  “Wait here,” the second ordered.

  I gave a nod, and he stepped through the door.

  Thirty seconds later, the door opened and a squeaky voice full of gravel said, “Please come in, Mr. Capaldi.”

  I let the elf standing just inside the doorway pat me down. Of course, he was feeling for wands and daggers, not concealed pistols, but this sort of thing is the same all over. There was a gigantic, gray orc in chain mail to my left, and I could just make out an elevated chair, almost a throne, behind him. The elf finished and nodded.

  “It’s alright, Griznok,” the squeaky voice said.

  The orc stepped aside, but his piggy, red eyes never left me.

  I nodded to him with a smile and saw the Godfairy. She was old. I mean ancient. Her skin was gray and wrinkled like a prune. She couldn’t be more than two feet tall, but she looked at me like I was her property. She wore a shimmering black dress with her tiny bare feet poking out the bottom. Her gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun, exposing wide, drooping ears that ended in sharp points.

  “Godfairy,” I said with a bow. “I’m sure you’re busy, so I’ll cut to the chase.”

  “Please do.” She sounded bored. She probably figured I was there to make a threat.

  “I’m here to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” I gave her a sly smile. I’m certain she didn’t get the joke, but I thought it was pretty funny.

  Boredom quickly changed to curiosity. “Oh, really?”

  “Indeed,” I said. “You have a problem—”

  “I have a pain in the ass,” she injected.

  “I can’t argue with you, but he’s also the Governor. Which is why you left him a present rather than just breaking his knees or whatever it is fairy mobsters do to deadbeats. There are too many eyes on him, right?”

  “You’re very astute,” she said, raising an eyebrow. I couldn’t tell if she was impressed or irritated.

  “But after the phone call this morning, you’re running out of options.” I tried not to look too smug, remembering the sensation of my pinky getting blown off.

  “What are you offering?” she asked, and there was no mistaking the menace in her voice.

  “The balance due. Paid in full. Tomorrow.”

  She raised a small, jagged eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

  “Well, knowing what I do about these things, certain wheels may already be in motion.” I figured she’d ordered either a hit or a kidnapping the moment she got off the phone with Hammerhand. “Which would probably get the attention of the authorities, right?”

  “Probably,” she said, and the chilly calm in her voice indicated she had an out. Maybe she had pull with the higher-ups in Fairyland. “I can weather a pretty big storm if it comes to that.”

  “I’m guessing it would be better for both of us if it didn’t come to that. And if did, well, all offers would be null and void.”

  She smiled, and frankly, that smile scared the hell out of me. I’d seen less menacing sharks. She held up her hand and picked up the phone beside her.

  “Get me Stoney,” she said. Her hand never wavered as we waited. A minute later, I heard a deep, grumbling voice on the other end say something, probably a troll. “Hold,” she ordered. “Twenty-four hours,” she added and hung up the receiver. She raised an eyebrow expectantly.

  “So, we have a deal?” I asked even though I already knew the answer.

  “You have twenty-four hours,” she snapped. “And if I don’t get my money, I’ll be adding your name to the dance card. Am I understood, Mr. Capaldi?”

  “Yes, Godfairy. Perfectly.”

  “Good.” She waved a dismissive hand in my direction and focused her attention on the gates where horses and pixie jockeys were being loaded.

  As I stepped up to the door, I turned to her and narrowed my eyes. “There’s something that’s been bothering me.”

  “What’s that, Mr. Capaldi?” Her eyes never left the track.

  “Well, I read somewhere—I read a lot, by the way—that fairies consider unicorns to be sacred. That they’d never harm one. It’s the same sort of bad luck as a guy like me gets when he shoots a fairy. Bad things happen, you know?”

  “What’s your point?”

  “No point, really,” I replied innocently. “But there’s an innocent little girl in this world who lost her best friend. A purple one. I’d do something about that, if I could. It occurs to me that a Godfairy, even a mobster, might still be a fairy godmother somewhere deep down inside.” I opened the door. “I did think it odd there was magical pixie dust on the Governor’s pillow.” I gave the Godfairy a wink. “Pleasure doing business with you,” I added and closed the door behind me.

  O O O

  “It all comes down to fairies and unicorns,” I said with satisfaction. “I’ve got a way out for everybody.”

  The battle-axe sat behind Hammerhand’s desk, a dangerous look on her face. The Governor was off to the side, sitting meekly in a carved wooden chair far too narrow for his ample hindquarters. When he’d come in, she’d silently pointed to the chair, like a master telling her dog to heel. It took everything in me not to laugh.

  I looked at the Governor. “How much do you owe the Godfairy?”

  “Fifty thousand,” he whispered, cringing. So did the battle-axe, but where his face turned red in embarrassment, hers was full of fury.

  “And how much would it have cost you to divorce him before this all happened?” I asked her.

  “More than I care to think about,” she replied, looking at him like he was vermin to be exterminated.

  I was worried. If she didn’t budge on this, I was a dead man, and it would get ugly for their family. The book had been clear on fairies and unicorns, but it didn’t say anything about fairies and dwarves, regardless of gender or age. I locked eyes with her. “So, the two questions are, how much do you value avoiding a scandal and how much does your daughter mean to you?”

  “What?” she shouted.

  “He doesn’t have the money, right?” I asked.

  “Not even close,” she growled.

  “Well, he’s in
with some particularly dangerous fairies. If they aren’t paid, they’re going to come after all of you. Probably starting with your daughter. A kidnapping at the very least.”

  “You stupid bastard!” she hissed at her husband. And I’d thought the look she’d given him before was bad.

  “Look, here’s how this can work,” I said. I looked at both of them, and for the first time, I felt bad for the Governor. The look on his face said it all. He’d had no idea of what he was getting into, and the reality of it was tearing him up. “Governor, you’re going to give her the divorce. No settlement. You get to keep your job as long as you can hold it, which probably won’t be long when she’s finished cutting off your donations from all the wealthy folks who put you in office. You also get to stay alive, which you should consider a nice bonus.” I turned to her. “And you get your divorce for a fraction of what it would have cost you otherwise—without any scandal. All of this stays neatly under the table.”

  “But—” she started.

  “And neither of you,” I interrupted, “has to worry about anything happening to your daughter.”

  Her mouth closed abruptly, and the room went silent, save for the ticking of the cuckoo clock.

  “So,” I said, turning to the governor. “Do you agree?”

  “Yes.”

  I could barely hear him.

  “How about you, ma’am?” I asked. I held my breath. I could see it eating at her. People like her didn’t like to give away money, and she might be rich enough to think she was untouchable.

  “Agreed,” she said, biting off the word like rotten fruit.

  “Then I believe the Governor needs to call his fairy godmother, and you need to call your banker,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  They both made their calls, and the arrangements were made. A cart full of gold would be delivered to the track in the morning.

  “And with that,” I said to them both, “I need to get home, so I can finally sleep off this hangover. My head has been killing me all day.” I stepped up to the door and turned. “Can I still keep the carriage?” I asked her. I figured she might go back on her offer since she’d just shelled out fifty grand.

  She hesitated, and I could see her struggling with it. “It’s yours.” She paused for a heartbeat, finally adding, “And thank you. I am grateful you were able to sort this out, even with the price tag.”