by Unknown
Now that he’d face no further security checks, he placed the small pouch back around his neck the way he had seen his Grandfather wear it from the first day his Grandfather had brought him back from the foster home. McKay was zipping up his bag when he heard a woman yell, “It’s you!”
He looked up to see the brown eyes of a middle-aged woman magnified by her coke bottle bottom glasses. “Pardon?”
“I see you every time I brush my teeth. You’re the one that launched the Mint-Honey flavor for Wiseman’s Organic Toothpaste. You’re even on the tube! I’ve used Wiseman’s ever since Whole Foods started carrying the products. “Ha—my husband calls it Whole Paycheck. Are you a Wiseman?”
He froze for a moment. She had spoken so quickly he was still trying to process what she was saying. He realized she had finished with a question. “McKay—my name is McKay but I will always be grateful to the Wiseman family. Their campaign paid for the tuition of my last year in college. Although just between you and me, my favorite flavor is Cinnamon but Honey-Mint is a close second.”
“Over here, Jonathan!” she yelled, turning away from McKay and waving to a gray-haired man. “Look who it is! It’s McKay—he’s the boy on the toothpaste tube!” Jonathan looked both confused but accepting.
“It’s a really good tasting toothpaste,” he said politely. He led her away while she kept talking non-stop.
McKay’s flight into Chicago was uneventful. He spent most of it reviewing his guidebook. He wondered if people in Scotland buying a guidebook to America would find the culture as complicated as he found theirs. He had a layover he used to charge his phone, then got ready to board. He was pleased to see the flight wasn’t very full. He held out his boarding pass for a strikingly handsome flight attendant looking sharp in the airline’s dark uniform. The other man’s hair wasn’t as vivid a red as McKay’s and he had a short beard and mustache that were the color of bright copper. “Welcome aboard, Mr. McKay. Might you be going home?”
“In a way. I was born in the States but I’m trying to find the route my grandfather took when he left the Old Country.” McKay’s gaydar had clicked on with first eye contact. A gay flight attendant. Who knew? McKay had the whole row to himself. But as he was putting his bag away the hunky flight attendant had walked behind him.
“Mr. McKay,” he said softly, “There was a problem with your seating arrangement. Could you bring your bag and come with me?”
McKay was puzzled—as a professional model he was used to regular air travel, both national and international. He didn’t see how there could have been an error. At least not on his end.
He followed the well-shaped buns of the man in front of him. They roundly filled out the navy blue seat of his pants. He was so focused on them he didn’t realize he was now in the business class section. “There you go, Mr. McKay. Your new seat is 1A, and here’s your new boarding pass.” He put the pass into McKay’s hand, letting his own hand remain a couple of heartbeats touching it.
“OK,” thought McKay, “He’s not a subtle guy.” Aloud he said, “What have I done to deserve the upgrade?”
“Consider it a random act of kindness from your fairy godmother.” He smiled and there was a powerful sense of interest existing on many levels.
“Fairy?” Given the fact he had spent the summer with a Canadian Loup-Garou lover who had ended up reluctantly introducing him to the Supernatural community, now even small clues reminded him magic was always around you, just waiting out of the corner of your eye. He knew fairies existed. He had just never met one before.
“Well, just your regular rainbow kind of fairy. About the only wishes I can grant involve an upgrade or a free drink. My name is Jordon and I’m the Purser which makes me head bitch of anything outside of the cockpit. It’s a light load tonight, so I’ll have a lot of time on my hands. We can have a chance to get to know each other better. So sit back and relax and let me know if you’d prefer a glass of champagne to start with or do you want to go straight to the whisky?” His order placed, McKay sat down and watched a few more people trickle into the seats around him.
Jordon smiled at him as he did the obligatory Safety Speech. “Ladies and Gentlemen—boys and girls. Just in case none of you have been in an automobile since the 1960s, I am required by law to share with you the following information. Here’s a safety belt,” he said, clicking it in a showy manner. “I need for it to fit low and tight about your hips just like the black leather jockstrap I’ll be wearing later on tonight after we land in Edinburgh.” McKay laughed as did a lot passengers back in economy.
Jordon replaced his model safety belt with a bright yellow air mask. “For parents traveling with children---hmmm, why? If you as a parent are traveling with two of your children, for Goodness’ sake--what were you thinking? Just remember in the unlikely event these snappy yellow masks come down, you should consider strapping the mask on the smart one — the one who will pump the most money into your own retirement fund. And if you don’t like my jokes, you have six ways available to walk out,” he grinned, pointing out the exit signs.
Later on Jordon asked quietly, “How was the steak?” The flight attendant topped off McKay’s wineglass. Some of the other passengers had passed on dinner and turned off their lights right after takeoff. A heavyset man three seats over was lightly snoring.
“Very tasty.” He held up his glass in a toast. He was at that enjoyable stage of knowing he was a little buzzed but still in comfortable control.
In a few minutes Jordan passed by to collect the rest of McKay’s dishes and tray. “Make sure you leave room for dessert. It’s a long flight. I’ll be back in two shakes.” True to his word he returned and perched on the arm of the empty seat across from McKay.
“So, did you always want to fly the friendly skies?” McKay felt full and warm. He swirled the dark wine around in his glass, enjoying how the overhead light made it sparkle.
“Aye.” He crossed his arms. “Things are much better now, but I was one of those boys where everybody was aware I was a little light in the loafers. I never formally came out because everyone always knew. But it was a wee community and from the time I knew there was an outside world I knew I needed something bigger.” He held open his arms. “And when I became an adult this airline opened the world to me and I never looked back.”
He leaned forward. “A world of international travel offers a lot for a gay man. So many opportunities.”
McKay smiled. “I’m sure you have many stories.”
“Now, am I that obvious?”
“A guy with your looks? Yeah, I’d say you’ve always had many opportunities.”
“Well, mony a mickle maks a muckle,” Jordan said to himself.
“Pardon?” McKay looked surprised.
Jordon crossed his arms and pointed his chin at the restroom that was directly in front of McKay. McKay looked confused. “Surely,” the Purser growled, “you’ve heard of the Mile High Club?”
McKay froze. He had been curious if the upgrade had come with a price and he guessed it had. He tried not to overreact. Jordan was funny and a great looking man and it would be helpful to know someone actually from Scotland. But the idea of even a hottie like Jordan smashed beside him inside an airplane restroom pushed him past his edge. He was a romantic and had never had sex with someone he didn’t connect with emotionally. Maybe after more time together with Jordan they’d have that. But they didn’t have it now.
“That’s quite an offer. If I were to ever join the Mile High Club, I’m sure you’re one of the best people who could open my door. But it’s a bit much for me—even after you bought me a drink.” He held his nearly empty wine glass up once more as a toast.
“It was worth a shot,” Jordan smiled. “Close to half of the time the guy says yes.” The older man waggled his copper eyebrows at McKay, who responded by laughing.
“But let’s keep in touch.” Jordan went into the preparation area and returned a moment later. “Here’s my business card. When you settl
e into Edinburgh you have to check out a gay bar called the Pink Thistle. It’s around the top of Leith walk, just off Princes Street. My family owns it.” He passed his card over. On the back he had written “good for one free drink” and drawn a heart. “Just show that to whoever is on duty. That way I’ll know I’ve really bought you a drink. As head bitch outside of the cockpit, all the wee bottles of booze are mine to distribute as I please. It’s not as if I’m paying for your drink or your dinner tonight.” He laughed, “So I guess it’s only fair we don’t have sex this evening.” He stood up and added, “But tomorrow’s another day.
He stepped into the prep area and returned with a dish of ice cream topped with hot chocolate fudge. “I’ve already made plans for the next few days but give me your number and I’ll text you to let you know when I’m back to Edinburgh. Will you be around for at least a few weeks?”
“At a minimum. I left my ticket open on the return so I wouldn’t be tied to a schedule.”
“Then I hope we can meet when we’re both in the same place again.” Jordan returned to his tasks, efficiently picking up the few dishes and glasses left. McKay looked out the window into the darkness. He decided to grab a little sleep and pulled down the window shade so the rising sun wouldn’t wake him.
Chapter Two
Rory had great admiration for beautiful things and the latest to capture his attention was a set of loose diamonds that was about to be delivered to their new owner. He had had a great deal of fun with the options computers offered him. It was easy enough for him to hack into the jewelry store’s system. His kind were always good with their hands. In the old days it would have been using the stones to create jewelry of his own, but these days his skills included digital reality.
He had been working on this for weeks now and had flown in last night from Dublin to intercept the order. Maintaining his preferred lifestyle in the current century took money. The diamonds would help. He knew he could make even more in the stock market and hedge funds, but being a jewelry thief in his spare time appealed to his basic nature. All Pookas were tricksy.
He was calm. He had made switches like this countless times over the last two centuries. Rory looked at himself in the mirror and saw Vincent Campbell looking back. He straightened his tie and walked out of the men’s room and into the lift. With an air of confidence he stepped out on the first floor and saw the man he was anticipating walk in with his official briefcase.
“Mr. Campbell,” the courier said, “I was just on my way to your office.” He was frowning, an indication to Rory he needed to make this quick.
“And I was just on my way out and thought I’d save us both some time. We all know that time is money. Now, where do I sign?”
“I need your thumb print,” he said, pulling out a small tablet, barely larger than a phone. He flicked it on and held it out to Rory. Confident, the Pooka pressed his thumb firmly on the screen which flashed green twice to certify his identity.
“Garbage in, garbage out,” he thought as he took possession of the briefcase containing the stones. “—the consistent weakness of computers. All you need is the password or in this case, the right thumbprint.” He nodded to the courier and walked quickly through the double doors to reach the outside. He figured he would have no more than five minutes—ten at the outside—before the real Vincent Campbell started snooping around.
He glanced up at the CCTV security cameras that he hated so much. They were just one more hassle of the modern world. He walked two doors down and into the Waldorf. As he went through the door he shifted his facial features and became three inches taller. He went directly to the room he had checked into the night before. He removed the diamonds and placed their container into a dark gray suede purse. He calmly placed the empty briefcase into the closet, then shed the clothing he had been wearing.
He entered the bathroom nude and looked into the mirror, deliberately slowing down his shifting—he enjoyed watching the change. He took on a more familiar and comfortable female form, pleased to be rid of Campbell. He called himself Maeve. Her hair was now long and black. Her eyes were an icy blue. She put on the charcoal colored dress she had in the closet and the shoes that matched the purse. She called the front desk and ordered a taxi to the airport. As long as Rory was in Scotland he had decided to take a holiday for himself. Maeve stuffed the male clothing she had worn for the heist into a bag along with the briefcase. She’d dispose of them on her way to the airport.
Being away for a few months might let Fiona cool down. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms but he was certain when they next met he’d charm her the way he always did. Besides, he was a Pooka and never felt comfortable in one place for too long. It had been a couple of generations since he had been in the Highlands.
Being practically immortal he knew only too well the danger of getting too comfortable in the same body and the same time. It made one brittle—robbed one of flexibility. It was why he kept enrolling in college every few years. He wanted to keep up to date in human reality. He had watched too many of his fellow Sidhe go crazy when they became trapped in their own past and couldn’t make the transition into modern times.
More than a century ago he had met a Native American vampire in London. They had made love and in their time together discussed how similar their experiences were—which included being untouched by time while watching the humans they cared about age and die. But they both agreed on the importance of staying current. It was all about keeping one’s spirit flexible.
“Ah, my sweet Ash,” he whispered. “I hope you’re still out there somewhere. The world would be a wee bit sadder without you.” Maeve went downstairs to catch her taxi. She had a reservation on the late morning flight to Inverness. She’d start there and then change cities and bodies a few more times to keep building up layers between herself and Vincent Campbell. In another ten years—maybe twenty, she would cash in Campbell’s diamonds. She had all the time she needed. Every now and then she’d steal something valuable and put it aside until the theft was no longer a priority. She had hidey-holes on four continents where she kept what she thought of as her retirement fund. When you had a lifespan of centuries, you needed a very large nest egg.
She loved flying since planes took her higher than she could fly on her own when she took the shape of a bird. Scotland was beautiful from the air. Almost as striking as her beloved Ireland. It was a short flight and she was met by a driver from the Rocpool where she had made a reservation. Breezing along she realized she had missed lunch—so much for detailed plans. She went into the hotel’s bar to see what she might scare up. She was now traveling light with just her purse. Later on she would go shopping for new clothes. She’d also need to buy a suitcase.
She had nodded to the bartender as she walked into the bar and set her purse on the counter, feeling relaxed and hungry. The container in the purse rolled slightly in the soft suede and it tipped over onto the carpet. Before she could reach for it a man grabbed it and handed the purse back to her.
“And aren’t you a lovely lass,” he said. He was tall and lean. His hair was a dark auburn and his eyes light green. “My name is Niall. And you might be?”
“Maeve,” she smiled. He looked like a very handsome man. But she could smell that he was really one of the Daoine Sith—her Scottish fairy cousins. They were such EEgits—too thick to realize she was one of their own. She remembered one of the first questions Ash asked was about her—well, Rory’s supernatural origin. Vampires could sniff a Pooka out, just as she could sniff out Niall.
Well, what fun it would be to trick one of the Fair Folk. That would rack up more personal points than tricking humans.
“What can I order for you?” Niall asked, taking the seat beside her.
“A good scotch whisky, of course,” she grinned.
“Aye, life’s too short to be drinking bad whisky.” He placed an order with the bartender and then gave his full attention back to the Pooka. “So, how long will you be in town?”
> “I’m not tied to time,” she touched her glass to his, “it’s a vacation for me and many years since I was back in the Highlands. I plan to take things slow and enjoy myself.”
“Have you family here?” He put the glass down and held her eyes with his. She could feel him trying to use his glamour on her. She smiled as she let it rush over her body, leaving her untouched.
“I’m the trickster,” she thought. “Not you.” Aloud she replied, “Not in Scotland, no. Irish through and through. How about you?” She consciously enlarged her pupils to look more interested. Niall didn’t need his magic to seduce her. Pookas were always up for some fun.
“My family has deep roots in the Highlands and I’m in town to conduct a wee bit of business. Perhaps you’d do me the honor of having dinner with me this fine evening?”
“I don’t know what it is about you, but how could I refuse an offer of your company? In fact,” she put down her empty glass, “why don’t we go upstairs to my room and continue our conversation there?” She smiled to herself at how easy it was to manipulate a male Sith. It was a relief to skip all the courting and drag him into bed. Other than Fiona, it had been years since she had slept with anyone Supernatural.
She didn’t wait for him to respond, but picked up her purse and started off towards the lobby, confident he would be right behind her after he paid for the bill. A few minutes later they were in the penthouse suite and she dialed room service to send up a bottle of single malt.
She had just kissed him when there was a knock at the door to announce the arrival of the whisky. She signed for it and turned her attention back to Niall. “I’ve only had a single drink but here I am with you, you brilliant man. What power do you have over a poor bitta fluff like me?”
