The Fae's Amulet

by J F Posthumus

  Laughing, I ate a few more fries. “Hope springs eternal, sure, but I have no clue if the guy is even interested in me.” I munched another fry. “I think I’ve heard more women sigh his name than whisper it in fear. People like him don’t often want to be seen in the company of people like me.”

  Piero blew a raspberry at me. Tank walked over with a glass of whiskey and a hot pot of coffee. He snickered at Piero, who winked at him. Tank poured the coffee, left the whiskey, and walked away with a smile on his face.

  “Don’t matter who you are or where you’re from,” chided Piero. “If they can’t see what’s attractive about you, they’re a waste of your time.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I joked.

  “Better call me, ‘Cousin,’ Cat. That’s what you told me when I was fifteen and crushing hard on that rich cheerleader,” he reminded me.

  “Damn. I told you that? I must have been wise at one point.”

  We both laughed, and he clinked his full whiskey glass against my half empty one.

  “Salut, Cousin. To love and family.”

  We both drank, and the conversation returned to his family and our past.

  * * *

  A visit to Richmond wasn’t complete without a stop at Short Pump Mall and the Godiva store. Piero followed me there, and we shopped for chocolate, after which I insisted on shopping for his family. I loved spoiling his kids, and it was good to spend time with them.

  Some might love the idea of living forever, or at least for centuries, but it tends to be lonely. And there’s the pain and heartache of watching those you love grow old and die while you barely age. I tried to keep distant and remain aloof, but after a couple decades of having no close friends, I was leaning toward insanity. So, when Piero’s grandfather learned the truth, I became their universal constant, and the Magick was an unspoken secret.

  Or, to be more accurate, it was the giant, neon, glow-in-the-dark elephant that sat in their living room, eating carnival peanuts while watching their television.

  Piero had been completely accepting and found it interesting that his “little Cousin Cathy” could do cool ‘magic’ tricks and answered his questions truthfully and honestly. He quickly discovered that I’d always be there for him, no matter what was happening or why. Of all my father’s descendants, I was closest to Piero and his family. So, promising to visit him for a weekend was something I found myself looking forward to, even more than a girls’ night out with Clair.

  Shopping done, I headed back to Staunton. I tapped a few buttons on my phone and called my father. Spending time with Piero made me want to hear my dad’s voice and regret not visiting my mother during the last equinox, when the veils between my world and hers were thinnest and easiest to cross.

  After a few rings, my father’s voice filled the car, and I was glad I’d spent extra on the hands-free speaker.

  “Catherine. Are you okay?”

  My dad’s voice was rich and deep. He knew how to make his softest tone carry in a room of people, without Magick. To me, it was a comfort. But I wondered, from the worry in his tone, if he knew what was going on in my life.

  My father was an infamous warlock of vast power and considerable talent. My mother was fae and a literal queen in her own realm, with more power than the mundane humans of this realm could imagine. Or even comprehend. Perhaps those in ancient Ireland understood the power of the fae, but that was long before my birth.

  It was still a toss-up as to who terrified me the most.

  “I’m fine,” I replied, knowing he could easily hear the smile on my face, even if he couldn’t see it. “I’m on my way home from visiting Piero.”

  “You don’t just pop over to see your favorite cousin unannounced,” Dad observed.

  “I know. I needed his advice about something,” I hedged. Chewing my lower lip for a few seconds, I finally asked, “How well do you know Fergus Sterling, Dad?”

  “He’s been present for almost all my life, but I don’t think I know him as well as others do,” he replied calmly. “How have you come to know Fergus?”

  “He hired me to locate Ilygad Amon and the fae it was attached to,” I answered. “He neglected to mention a few details, and I was wondering if he’s to be trusted.”

  “Did he hire you personally, or is he representing other parties?”

  “Other parties who, he claims, want to keep it safe from use.” I frowned and added, “He didn’t say who the other ‘parties’ were, and Raziel said if I didn’t hand it over to the Order of the Scepter, I’d have a bounty on my head.”

  “He’s representing the Order of the Scepter, then,” Dad said. “Sterling, I mean. Not Raziel. You can trust that he has no agenda in mind concerning you.”

  “Pity,” I muttered, not caring too much if my dad heard. “Then why did Raziel tell me to make sure it got to the Order? He knew Sterling hired me, because I told him.” I paused before asking, “Who and what is the Order, anyway? I thought it was myth and legend.”

  “There’s my daughter, the one who has questioned everything since she could first say ‘Why’! I was wondering if she was going to use her business voice for the entire conversation.” Dad sounded more relaxed. “Your answers, in order, then: Raziel must feel that turning the item over is not your heart’s first desire. He’s an angel and has an annoying ability to sense conflict and desire without effort. As for the Order of the Scepter, how much do you want to know?”

  “It is rather tempting to keep the amulet,” I admitted with a laugh. There really wasn’t any point in denying it. “And I want to know everything! But I’ll settle for the highlights for now.”

  “You must come for a weekend visit to hear everything,” my father warned. “The Order has been around as long as Magick; at least, in one form or another. It’s had different names and many faces and races over the millennia, but it’s always been a governing body—the checks and balances for those who work in Magick and Craft. The Order is also a means of justice when necessary. It’s a way to keep things in balance, and there are no taxes or fees or any of the nonsense found in homo sapiens’ ideology of government.

  “However, the Order is subject to the same greed and mistakes,” Dad corrected himself. “And, there was a brief period when there was no version of the Order at all.”

  “I thought you said the Order has always been around.”

  Dad’s annoyance was audible. “Once, the leader of the Order was betrayed, attacked, and left for dead by more than half the members. The leader destroyed them, but that level of treachery had never happened in all the centuries before or since.” He took a moment to calm himself before adding, “It took a while for the Order to rise from those ashes. But, it happened.”

  “Who was the leader?” I blurted.

  “The same being who is the leader now. Sterling speaks on the leader’s behalf and takes word of all back to him.”

  I grunted. The more things change…

  “So, what happened during the Order’s absence?”

  “Magick seemed to be fading from the Earth,” Dad explained. “In reality, the leader was secretly eliminating most Magickal beings, while trying to build a new balance. This was the Dark Ages, the time of Merlin’s legend—Arthur, Excalibur, and Camelot. After the fall of Camelot, the Order was slowly, secretly rebuilt. All agreed that humanity needed to be ignorant of Magick. That was the first decree. The slow building of a balance, where humanity has enough wisdom to survive learning about Magick’s existence, is the second order.”

  “So far, humanity isn’t making a good argument for its wisdom,” I mused.

  My father’s laughter filled the car. It was rich and warm, and it made the smile on my face grow brighter. It was the kind of laugh that caused others to smile, regardless of how grumpy or unhappy they were.

  “Not really, no,” my father said, laughter still warming his voice.

  I really hated the idea that my next question would probably dampen that laughter and warmth.

  “Wo
uld the Order be as pissed as the Council if they knew Nick was giving mundane humans dragon’s blood to expand his so-called coven?”

  A palpable cold surrounded me, making the silence from the phone ominous. I could feel my body shiver.

  “Yes, the Order would consider that a severe breech, and judgment would be forthcoming.” Dad was trying to sound pleasant, even conversational, but there was no denying the shift in mood and content. “Do you have evidence or testimony of this accusation?”

  “Yes. Nick admitted doing it,” I quickly replied. “I wasn’t alone, either. Sterling was with me when I confronted Nick.”

  There was another heavy silence, but the sensation of being trapped, naked, in a frozen cave that was collapsing around me, was no longer there.

  “All right,” my father finally replied. “We need to meet, and I will need you to tell me everything.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to break the pleasant conversation we were having.”

  “Oh.” He sighed, and the warmth seemed to flow around me. His voice was more relaxed, now. “It is fine, my dearest. We will get the unpleasantness out of the way, then have more good talk. I’m trying to figure out why I have heard nothing of this. I suppose Sterling didn’t mention it to the Order or Council, or they haven’t taken any action that the rest of the community knows about. Eh, never mind my rambling. Can you come and see me?”

  I glanced at my clock and sighed inwardly. It was just after two, and I didn’t know when Universal Manpower closed, but it was probably at five, like an old-fashioned bank. He would understand that I had business to do prior to visiting him.

  I hoped.

  “I need to stop somewhere first, but it shouldn’t take too long,” I replied. Charming people was simple, even if it wasn’t a novice spell. “Where do you want to meet?”

  “My house. I will be in the library.”

  “When did you get back?” I asked curiously.

  My father wasn’t someone who stayed in town; he traveled extensively for the Council. We usually met up once a month or so, and on the major holidays, as well as our birthdays. His last trip had taken him to someplace in the mid-west. He hadn’t gone into details, and I hadn’t asked.

  “I haven’t,” he replied, “but I will be there when you arrive. I’m still away on business, but seeing you and hearing what we need to discuss is luring me away. See you soon.”

  “See you soon. Love you,” I said. After his reply of ‘Love you, too,’ the conversation ended, leaving me to ponder what could be done to Nick.

  The smile never left my face.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Universal Manpower was in an office in a small strip mall that had once been home to a cellular phone company. The interior had been redesigned considerably, and the windows were free of signage, so I could easily tell there were no customers inside the small reception area.

  The smile still fixed on my face, I exited my car and crossed to the door. The name of the business filled the top half of the door, and there was a small sign stating business hours.

  As suspected, they closed at five during the week, were open from ten to noon on Saturdays, and closed on Sundays. I rolled my eyes at the weekend hours.

  Drawing a deep breath, I centered myself and entered. The woman at the reception desk looked up and smiled pleasantly.

  She wasn’t wearing a nametag, which wasn’t surprising considering this was a front for hiring out mercenaries to anyone who could afford them. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a classic bun, and she wore a navy polo with the company logo embroidered on the left breast. Small pearl earrings decorated her earlobes, and, aside from a single gold band on her left hand, they were the only jewelry she wore.

  Judging by her forearms and biceps, I suspected she enjoyed the gym. From the way she held herself, I suspected she also practiced martial arts or had unarmed combat training. Unlike many, I didn’t underestimate those who were petite. Her blue eyes regarded me with suspicion and wariness, despite the polite smile fixed on her lips.

  I guessed the only people who came through these doors were mercs. Or, perhaps, it was by appointment only?

  “May I help you?” she asked, her tone friendly.

  “I’m hoping you can, yes,” I replied, as I began working my Magick.

  Unlike in movies and television shows, spells don’t need fancy gestures or hand motions. For practitioners of the Art, charming a person requires concentration and sometimes ingredients, depending on how the caster wants to do the spell. Some prefer creating an elixir or enchanting an object.

  Being the daughter of a fairy queen, I didn’t require a lot to charm a person, other than concentrating, silently speaking the spell, and making certain nothing moved between me and my target.

  Considering the receptionist and I were the only ones in the miniature lobby, I didn’t need to worry about the latter. I folded my hands on the desk and smiled pleasantly as the Magick flowed from them and enveloped the woman across from me.

  I could tell the moment she fell under my spell, because her shoulders relaxed and the wariness faded from her eyes.

  “I need to obtain a list of your clients,” I said pleasantly, in a soft voice that wouldn’t carry beyond us. “Those who hired from you within the last month, along with who was hired and the dates.”

  I could easily narrow it down from there. I suspected the henchmen were hired recently. Otherwise, I would have to figure out how to narrow down the information before coming back to retrieve another list of suspects.

  “Will that be all?” the woman asked as she began typing on a keyboard that was out of sight.

  “Do you keep a list of who uses company vehicles?” I asked.

  “Yes, we do,” she replied easily. “I’ll include that, as well.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and she nodded as she continued tapping.

  Within a few minutes, the tell-tale whirring of a printer filled the room, and she began gathering papers from a hidden printer. The stack slowly grew, and once everything was printed, she slid everything into a manila envelope she pulled from a drawer.

  “Will that be all?” she asked as she slid the envelope across to me.

  “Yes, thank you,” I replied kindly.

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  As she turned her attention back to the computer, I reached across the counter and touched her arm. She started to jerk away, but a brief touch was all I needed for the last bit of Magick.

  “You won’t remember any of this,” I said smoothly, as her eyes grew tired, and her lids began to droop. “It’s been a typical day in which nothing remarkable happened. There were no visitors during the time I was here.”

  She blinked once and nodded. “No one here. Nothing remarkable,” she murmured.

  Nodding, I turned and departed the office. The spell would last another two minutes. By the time it faded, I was in my car and on my way to my father’s house in Waynesboro.

  * * *

  My father’s house looked pretty much like any other plain, brick, ranch-style house. The trim was white to go with the simple design. On the inside, it was a mansion, complete with vaulted ceilings, a banquet hall, a foyer, and in the back, a library.

  It wasn’t just any library, but the kind Belle would love. The mansion was three stories, not including the attic or basement, which housed my father’s laboratory and workroom. The library reached from the first floor to the ceiling of the attic. The shelves were filled with books of every sort and included first prints of many classic and contemporary novels, ranging from non-fiction to horror. The Magick tomes rested on the shelves in the basement.

  The soft lighting was designed to harm the books as little as possible, and there was a faux fireplace in which crackled a Magickal fire. As a little girl, I had always loved it when my father created rainbow-colored flames, and those were what glowed in his fireplace, even now.

  I entered the front door and contin
ued down the foyer, past the banquet hall, my father’s personal office, the kitchen, and the ‘powder room,’ to the elaborate library I had always loved.

  Chairs were positioned around the fireplace for maximum reading enjoyment. Each chair had a small table next to it and a foot stool before it. Small tables adorned with curios dotted the room—a human skull rested on one, an ancient Egyptian artifact on another, and a simple, if not elegant, lamp on a third. The room smelled of leather, wood polish, and cinnamon.

  The high-backed chair in the center of the room faced the fireplace, but I knew he was there. I opened my mouth to say hello, and he pivoted the chair toward me. My father’s thick, wavy hair was salt and pepper now, but I remembered when it was jet black. He was wearing it a little longer, the tips falling over the collar of his suit coat, onto his shoulders. His beard was neatly trimmed; he’d never gone for the long-bearded wizard look. His grey-blue eyes could be seen through his reading glasses. His face could convey expression and emotion like a theater actor’s, and images of my favorite movie musketeer reminded me of pictures of my father in his youth. His smile didn’t expose any teeth and turned his eyes into slits, but that was his happy face.

  “Hello, dearest!” he said. He vanished from the chair in a puff of vapor and stood before me in a blink. He wrapped me in a big bear hug. “So good to see you!”

  “Good to see you, too,” I replied, happily. Burying my face in his chest, I returned the hug with enthusiasm. He smelled of spices, like he always did. I felt him kiss the top of my head, then I felt his arms loosen. He still held me by my arms, though, not wanting to let go. “Missed you, Dad.”

  “I have missed you as well,” he assured me. “Please, sit. Would you like any refreshment? We can get down to business whenever you are ready.”

  I took the chair closest to the one he had been sitting in. Lifting my chin, I said in a clear, ringing voice, “Two ounces of Bombay gin, very cold, one ounce of raspberry liqueur, with one thin slice of Granny Smith apple.”