by Al K. Line
"Sorry, Madge, just—"
Madge stopped her with a greasy hand. "I know. Kate, I am a four-hundred-year-old witch that spends all her time in a cafe surrounded by Hidden of all kinds, I understand the troubles we go through and the things we do to stay sane. Just don't ask for poached eggs. It's not right. I hope you find Grandma, Spark, she's one of the good ones." Madge went back to her place behind the counter.
"Wow, that's the most I've heard her say without swearing or screaming. Ever." I dunked my toast in my egg. This time nobody stopped me. Kate took a moment to recover from her dressing-down then tucked in. Madge knows Grandma, everyone does, and the witches all know each other's business. Madge may be short on words but you can bet she would be keeping a magic-infused ear open for anything to do with her disappearance. The fact she hadn't said anything useful wasn't good news. If anyone was talking, she would know.
It also dawned on me that this was why Kate had taken me to Madge's in the first place. Yes, I'm slow at times, especially when it comes to women being smarter than me, which they pretty much always are. At that moment I think I loved Kate more than I ever have, which isn't easy as I've seen her bum in just a pair of pink panties, and that is a sight I will never forget, but maybe that was just lust, not, you know, love.
Silence reigned for a while as we ate and thought of Grandma.
I tried to keep dark and dangerous thoughts at bay. But if the vampires were involved then there would be hell to pay, and Kate, she would have to pick sides. How could you? It wasn't like she had a choice any longer. She is a vampire, there's no going back from that. The only alternative is death. Sure, I could suck the blood magic out of her, but she would still be infected and without that magic she would suffer terribly as she died a slow death. That, or the vampires would kill her for being an abomination.
I munched on a sausage and tried not to think of ways to kill the person, or creature, that dared interfere with my family.
"Have you spoken to Stanley?"
Kate put her knife and fork down neatly on her empty plate, leaned back and said, "No. He's been out of town for a few days, but he was due back last night."
"Perfect. He had that date with Grandma, right?" Kate nodded. "Well, you can tell me how it went on the way over. But let's get a taxi, these damn buses are a nightmare."
Stanley was a seer. If anyone knew what had happened it would be him.
Stanley the Seer
Stanley had done me a favor, and in return I'd promised to ask Grandma if she would go on a date with him. To my shock, horror, and utter dismay she was really keen and said to tell him, yes. I guess they'd had the date. I vaguely remember Kate saying she'd arranged it when I spoke to her before I holed up and accepted no more calls for my week of recuperation.
It sent shivers up and down my spine just thinking about it. I just can't get over the life Stanley leads. It's the stuff of nightmares. Not demons, ghouls, magic, raising the dead, or even zombies, but properly scary stuff. Stanley knows his own future. All of it until the day he dies. Maybe beyond, but I've never asked. I don't think I'd like the answer.
Stanley is a mortuary technician at the city morgue, but he likes to think of himself more as a pathologist, and whenever I have to go there—which is way more often than you would think—he's usually arm deep in some cadaver or another. Or staring intently at a brain.
It creeps me out, and I don't creep out easily as, like I said, I'm an enforcer for all things dark magic related, and that can be a messy business at the best of times.
The taxi dropped us off at Stanley's home, a normal looking red brick Victorian terrace in a nice quiet neighborhood. Stanley's lawn was neat, with stripes and everything, the windows sparkled, and his old Volvo was perfectly lined up in his drive. The curtains were open so he'd clearly returned from whatever trip he'd been on.
Reluctantly, we got out of the cool, air-conditioned interior and the heat hit like a demon had sat on my head. I've been around for a long time, but this weather was just crazy. Wales is damp and dull, not all cheery and tropical. It made the day feel all the more surreal, and I didn't like it one bit. I paid the driver and we stood on the curb, sweat pooling like we'd stepped into a sauna with our clothes on.
"Um, Kate, what day is it?"
"Wow, you really were out of it, weren't you?"
"Yeah, maybe."
"Well, it's been six days, Faz, so what do you think?"
I did the complicated math in my mind. "Friday."
"Ooh, well done, brainbox." Kate gave me a friendly slap on the back and I flew from the curb to the garden boundary, almost impaling myself on Stanley's shiny and very spiky gate.
"Uh. Am I still alive?" I said, trying to make light of the slap. I've often wondered if I will know when I am dead. Will I just be a ghost and carry on as normal for a while, or will I end up somewhere else?
"Faz, oh my god, are you all right?" Kate ran to me and pulled me upright. She was close to tears, not for the first time. She keeps forgetting the power she has now she is what she is, and as she'd fed less than a week ago her body was strong and virile. I forgot about my close encounter and got fixated on the hot and virile bit. She was as steamy and sexy as hell and I wanted to rip off her clothes and lick—
"Faz? What are you licking your lips for?"
"Eh? Oh, was I? Look, I'm fine." I thought for a minute. "Well, actually, it hurts, right here." I put a finger to my lips—you can't blame a guy for trying. It was crazy, but that simple act gave me butterflies like I was risking life and limb.
Kate's tears were gone, replaced with a wry smile. She stood on tiptoe and kissed me ever so gently. Her lips tasted of strawberries and the best dessert you ever had as a kid. She tasted like the missing part of me. She is the missing part of me.
"All better now?" she asked, eyes sparkling with amusement, but something else too. Lust. I hoped maybe admiration for my chiseled features and incredible body, that or she had something in her eye. She brushed her hair away, looking a little flushed. I imagined I looked the same. Maybe not, judging by the way she teased me.
"Oh, yes. Gulp." Yes, I said gulp, only because she licked her lips super slowly while she held my gaze. Things were getting hot. For years I've been a close friend of Kate's, and I think we've both always known how we feel about each other, deep down, but I've always been too scared to ask outright. And Kate, well, I guess she's been as reticent to take it further as me—we didn't want to lose each other's friendship.
"I think we should talk once we find Grandma," she said.
"I think we should rip our clothes off and jump into bed."
"Faz!"
"After we find Grandma."
"Oh, okay."
"What!? Okay to the ripping clothes off, bit? Or okay to the, at least you're not totally callous and want to take me to bed right now, bit? Because I do. Um, but I'm not. Callous, that is." Yes, I was flustered. So sue me.
"Wow, where's this coming from? And okay to the first bit."
I tried to think which the first bit was. I thought it was the ripping clothes off, but I was taking no chances. No laughing. She makes me lose my mind, all right? "Was the first bit the ripping clothes off and getting sexy?" I asked eagerly. This was the most we'd ever spoken about getting intimate, and I couldn't believe it.
I was amazed I'd actually confronted the issue of her utter gorgeousness head on for a start. I'd been too scared, even though recently there had been plenty of signs that she wanted more from our relationship, the same as I did.
Who cares that she's a young vampire? I'm an enforcer for the Head of the UK Dark and Hidden Councils, I'm not exactly a Regular myself.
"You'll just have to wait and see," Kate said.
I'd lost my train of thought. Time to get on track. "Let's go talk to Stanley. He's bound to have the answers." I opened the gate and Kate went through first. Yes, I had an ulterior motive. I got to watch her bottom wiggle in jeans so tight they must have been sprayed on. It took my m
ind off Grandma, so please don't judge me.
"My dear boy, and Kate, what a surprise," said Stanley, beaming at us moments before I knocked on the door. That's seers for you. They do like their little games.
"I bet. Hi, Stanley, do you mind if we come in?" I asked.
"Not at all. Please do. Terrible news about Grandma, just terrible." Stanley shook his head, looking suitably forlorn.
"So, you know about it?" I asked pointlessly. Of course he did, he knows his whole future. How he can live like this, with his whole life spread out in front of him but having seen it all I don't know. He seems to revel in it though. He is a rare man indeed, few and far between is the man that doesn't kill himself the instant his sight is opened and he becomes a seer as strong as Stanley. What's the point in living when you already know it all? Have lived it all?
"Um, yes." He stared at us quizzically, then stepped aside and we moved into the welcome cool of his home.
"Um, wow," said Kate as we stepped into the narrow hallway.
"Yeah, wow, Stanley. I have to tell you, I wasn't expecting your home to look quite like this."
"Haha. Did you both expect it to be an extension of my place of work? Full of cadavers and things in jars? Maybe a kitchen made from mortuary tables and full of stuffed creatures with a hidden basement for extracurricular activities, that kind of thing? Maybe a sex dungeon?" Stanley smiled that knowing smile of his. I shivered. Ugh, it gives me the creeps when he talks about sex stuff, especially as he fancies Grandma.
"No, of course not!" protested Kate.
"Yeah, spot on." Oops, probably not the best way to ingratiate yourself to the man you think has the answers you are looking for. "Ow!" Kate nudged me in the ribs and frowned. "Sorry, Stanley, I'm a little out of sorts."
"Don't mention it, dear boy. Now, please come into the living room. We have much to discuss."
With a little eyebrow raising, and a lot of surprises, we followed Stanley, mortuary technician-cum-seer-cum-gentleman that freaks me out more than just about anything, through his unconventional home and into his even more unconventional living room.
"Stick 'em up. Make a move and your legs get it." My eyes snapped to black, the familiar silver specks pinging like pricks to my eyes and the magic welled up, my tattoos already flaring, my body ready to defend us with a quick blast of darkness or a protective shield if it came to that.
Stanley merely tutted and said, "Now, now, Govan, no need to get all theatrical."
Govan ignored him. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Try anything funny and I'll chop your legs up into lumps and feed them to the dogs."
"Um, er, how can you chop our legs off with a spoon? And where are the dogs?" My body relaxed, slight sickness washing away as the magic receded before it had the chance to make me truly ill.
Standing in front of us now, after moving from behind a footstool, was a foot high, wicked looking creature, all evil yellow eyes, short, bristly fur, claws that would slice your face off. It oozed malevolence. In other words, a cat.
"I didn't know you had a cat, Stanley," said Kate, smiling and bending down. "Cooee. Hello little fellow, and how are you today?" Kate spoke in that weird way some people do with animals, like they are cute and cuddly no matter if they look like evil personified and just threatened to chop you up, albeit with a wooden spoon which, admittedly, does reduce the fear factor somewhat.
"Stanley, get this bint out of my face before I slice her eyes up and suck my milk through them and—"
"Govan, don't be so rude to our guests," warned Stanley. "Be nice or it will be outside with you."
"Wow, you're mean," said Kate, standing and looking at me like I could help.
I just shrugged. "I'm a dog person."
"Dogs! Those foul creatures of the netherworlds. I'll chop them up into bits and I'll pull off their legs and use them for a game of baseball and I'll—"
"Excuse me one minute," said Stanley, polite as always. He picked up Govan the cat with a hand under his belly and carried the foul creature away while it threatened to do nasty things to dogs.
We could still hear it as Stanley opened the back door to a garden we could see through the living room window and then it was quiet.
"It's the only way to calm him down at times. He can't go talking outside. It would cause no end of bother if the neighbors heard him ranting. I apologize for the rudeness of Govan, he's a bit of a drama queen actually. Harmless. Um, mostly. There was the incident with the dog down the road and the rope, and, um, well, he did once tie up a child and... Anyway," said Stanley shaking his head, "so nice to see you both."
"Stanley, what's happened to Grandma?"
"Oh, she's dead," said Stanley brightly.
My world collapsed in on me and I fell to the orange carpet. I couldn't breathe. I was going to die.
An Easy Mistake to Make
"Oh, oops, sorry. I don't mean now, I mean in the future. Sorry, things get a little jumbled up sometimes. It's the damn cat, he gets me all in a muddle."
I lay on the floor, breathing difficult, head spinning as I tried to understand what the hell he was talking about.
"Stanley, is she alive or not?" asked Kate. "Now, at this moment? Not at some point in the future."
"Yes, of course she is. What a question to ask."
You know what? Sometimes I really want to hurt Stanley, bad. I recovered enough to get upright but I felt terrible. My head was woozy and I knew the anger was rising. My eyes were getting darker, I knew, and I was in no mood for Stanley's theatrics. I felt an arm on my shoulder.
"Calm down, okay?" Kate searched my eyes for understanding. I nodded. It was a good job she was there.
I moved on legs that felt like out-of-date witch's brooms over to a purple donut chair and collapsed. I think I might even have taken a breath. I was lightheaded and terrified I'd lost her, still not sure what Stanley was saying. Did I mention I hate seers? Well, I do.
"I'm sorry, Spark. I'm a little tired from the traveling. These conferences are so tedious, especially when, you know, it's ancient history to people like me."
"You'll be ancient history if you pull a stunt like that again," I muttered. "So, she's alive?"
"Of course. No need to be all tetchy, I said I was sorry." Stanley signaled at the sofa for Kate to sit and she did. He sat next to her. "Now, let's start again, shall we?"
Stanley brushed a cadaverous pale hand through hair as white as a vampires canines. I watched, mesmerized, as the sun streamed through the window and highlighted his old fashioned Brylcreemed hair like a halo. But he's no saint. I think sometimes he's the devil incarnate, sent just to do my head in.
I got my act together and said, "You went out on a date with Grandma, so Kate tells me."
"Yes, and thank you for asking her my dear boy, it was a most interesting evening. She's a feisty one, and no mistake."
"You better not have... done anything."
"I will have you know I was the perfect gentleman," said Stanley looking completely shocked I could suggest he would be anything else.
"Good. So, what then?"
"What then? Well, we had a lovely meal at Ginaro's, I took her home, she invited me in—"
"What! You sly old—"
"For a cup of tea. She does make excellent tea. And then I said goodnight and I haven't seen her since."
"But you know what's happened to her, don't you?"
Stanley crossed a leg, his fingers idly fiddling with the razor sharp crease of his perfectly pressed trousers. He is a dapper fellow and no mistake. He is always well turned out, immaculately dressed at all times, reeking old world charm—it's the prescience and the fact he likes to play with corpses that puts me off. I wasn't happy about him and Grandma though. God, if they stayed together he could be part of my life all the time. Ugh. As long as Grandma was alive, that is.
"Stanley?" prompted Kate. He seemed lost in thought.
"Sorry, I'm just thinking about how best to tell you what I can tell you. You must understand that
it would do no good to tell you too much. It would disturb the future and then where would we be? I have always made it my policy to follow what I know will happen precisely. Break the flow and all manner of messy things happen."
"Just tell me what's happened to her."
"I'm afraid I can't. Don't you see? If I tell you then that would break the rules. I'm a seer. I know my own future, not everyone else's. I live my life in a dream, Spark, you know this. I know my future and I know what happens to me."
"And is Grandma in this future?"
"If I told you that then I would tell you whether she is alive or not. And that could change the entire future of everything. You must do what you do with no interference from me. That way things will work out as they are supposed to."
"Is she alive?" I was angry, shouting. What was wrong with him?
"Yes, and no. It's the paradox, I'm afraid. The Schrödinger's cat thing. She is just as much alive as dead until you uncover the truth and find out what has happened. I can say no more than that."
I got up, unable to deal with his mumbo-jumbo any longer. "Well, that's just great, Stanley, real great. She could be dead, she could need my help, and you won't tell me a goddamn thing!"
"And if I do? What then? If I tell you if she is in my future or not, if I am stood beside you as you give her away to be my wife, or we are stood next to her grave, what then? You will still have to find out what has happened, as if you do not then the future I see will be a lie, and it is never a lie. I see my future, and I know what happens to those in my life, and what I see is done, has happened, so that is how it must happen. There is no escaping that. And I do not tell you what I have seen, as it will interfere with what I have seen, and that is impossible."
"Okay, Stanley, I get it." I didn't, it made no sense. It's not just me, is it? This stuff is nuts. Think about it and you will be madder than a faery locked in an empty pizza box. "You are trying to help in your own way. You don't want to interfere as it may jeopardize me finding out what happened at all, right?"
Stanley brightened. "Right. I'm glad you see it like that, Spark. She is a fine woman. I do think an awful lot of her. I shall see her again." He said no more.
