by WB McKay
"Owen," I said, pointing up to a crudely drawn sign with a yellow duck on it. "The Fuzzy Duck? Are you sure we're in the right place? That doesn't sound like a harpy bar to me, especially not one for crime bosses."
"The name changes all the time. I have no idea why. There are a couple other bars that do the same thing. This one is always owned by harpies, no matter what the name is. Maybe it's a bar culture thing." He brought a hand to his chin. "Hmm. Maybe I should ask. Bars like this and clubs like Smoke and Mirrors don't serve the same clientele, but perhaps I should be participating in the name change thing."
"Owen Kinney," I announced, "proud owner of The Fluffy Corgi."
He pulled the door open and gestured for me to go in first. "I don't expect I'll let you pick the name."
"I expect you will." I hesitated at the open door, taking a small step back. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea."
Owen quirked a brow at me and let the door close. "Why?" he asked, his voice full of concern.
"I don't think the harpies like me very much."
"Did you have to take something from them?" he asked, drawing the logical conclusion, based on my job.
Unfortunately, it was a lot more embarrassing than that. "No, nothing to do with my job." I rubbed a hand over my face, remembering my early days after I'd left the banshee community at Wailing Lakes. "I tried to make friends with them when I was younger. It didn't go well."
Owen's concern turned into a look I couldn't decipher. "Don't worry about it. I'll take the lead on this one. They're business people. I know how they work."
I frowned. Owen had been given provisional agent status to work the case with me, so technically, he could do that. "Fine, but I still have a bad feeling about this. If any of them are harpies I know..."
"It'll be fine," he said, squeezing my shoulder gently. "I've got this." He released me and straightened his back, his whole demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. He instantly looked like someone about to strut into a high powered business meeting and fire a dozen people because their performance was disappointing. He broke the image long enough to give me a quick wink and then strode through the door of The Fuzzy Duck like he owned the place.
A dozen pairs of eyes turned on us in an instant. There was the metallic scrape of swords being drawn. My gaze locked with the last harpy I wanted to see.
"Hello there, crow," said Joanna. "What brings you to my little bar?"
CHAPTER THREE
"We're conducting an investigation for MOD," said Owen, stepping in front of me.
The entire bar had gone stone still. They were waiting to see how Joanna would react. It didn't surprise me that she was running a money lending gang out of a bar. She'd always been a total badass. I looked her over, taking in the features I'd envied so long ago. She wore a leather skirt and vest that accommodated her birdlike features and covered her human girly bits… barely. She had the body of a Victoria's Secret model. That is, if those models had arms that were mostly wings that ended in wickedly clawed hands and feet that were the talons of a huge predatory bird. The rough yellow skin ended at her knees where it transitioned to dark blue feathers.
"What, now you need a big dragon to speak for you, crow?" asked Joanna, stepping to the side and tilting her head to look around Owen like he was a piece of scenery.
"You know that speaking was never my problem, Joanna. It was learning when to shut up." She smiled at that. "But we are here on business. There's been a robbery at The Museum of Fae Culture and History. We have reason to believe you might be able to help us."
Joanna's eyes turned colder and one of her clawed fingers crooked, bringing two well-muscled harpies over to stand beside us. "And I should do this out of the kindness of my three-chambered heart?"
"We are looking for a group of elves capable of the robbery, who are likely in a large amount of debt. The stolen item has the ability to reveal all of Volarus to the human world," I replied, ignoring the thugs and the way Owen's body tensed, ready for a fight. His businessman demeanor was long gone. "It seems like that might be something you'd like to stop. Do you have the information we are looking for?"
"I might, crow, but nothing comes for free in this world."
I crossed my arms over my chest and gave them a neutral look while I thought. It was within my power to compel them to cooperate or have them arrested for obstructing an investigation. With these ladies, though, I knew I would end up getting less for all the trouble it would cause. Besides, they'd never respect me, and as much as I hated to admit it, I still wanted that. It's hard not fitting in anywhere. Sure, I had Wailing Lakes, but I was so much younger than everyone else, and just plain different from me. They were my family, but I was the one who stood out. The harpies could fly, plus they were all women, and I'd grown up in an all-woman community. Those were all reasons I came up with to justify my feelings though. The truth was that I'd wanted a people. With the harpies, I'd felt like I could be on a more equal footing, if only they didn't hate me.
The harpies around me began to stir, reminding me I'd been quiet for too long. "What did you have in mind?" I asked.
That produced a general chatter that sounded uncomfortably like excitement. I hadn't even agreed to anything and already apprehension coiled my guts.
Joanna stepped forward. If I hadn't already been nervous, the twinkle in her eyes would have done it. "You're going to help us win a war," she said, and patted me on the cheek with her clawed hand.
I swallowed hard. I didn't want to get stuck in the middle of a gang war, but I didn't have a lot of options.
Owen stepped up beside me. "You don't have to do this. We can get the information elsewhere."
"Yeah," said Joanna. "Listen to your big, bad dragon, crow. If you're not bird enough to stand up to a few ogres, you should probably flutter off. Sounds safer."
Oh, she just knew how that sounded like a swear word to me.
"I've got this, Owen," I promised. Joanna's comments about not being bird enough really stuck in my craw. "I'm not going to kill any ogres."
Joanna shook her head. "Oh, no, nothing like that. I have something more subtle in mind." She looked around the room and my eyes followed hers. There was a heavy air of anticipation. It felt like any minute someone would come through the door and we'd all yell surprise. "I want you to steal something from The Grinding Bones."
At her words, the entire room of harpies erupted into excited chatter. Random words kept drifting to my ears that didn't make any sense.
"What is The Grinding Bones?" I asked Owen quietly, hoping the question would be hidden by the chatter.
"It's one of the other bars in town. Run by ogres. It changes names a lot too."
That made sense of the random shouts of "pool table" and "jukebox" I'd heard. "But what the hell is a gimpy?" I asked.
This time, Joanna answered. Apparently I hadn't been as quiet as I'd thought. "Gimpy is The Grinding Bones' mascot. He's a skeleton that is missing a leg. It's pretty tasteless, if you ask me, but what would you expect from ogres?" The room grew quiet again as their leader spoke, their glittering eyes focused on her. "And it's what you'll be stealing."
"So, you want me to steal your enemy's mascot?" I asked, my brow raising and an edge of doubt creeping into my tone.
"They are our nemeses. This will demoralize them more than anything else," said Joanna coolly. The topic wasn't up for discussion.
"Fine," I said, a sigh slipping out. I wasn't at all sure I should be doing this, but we had to find that scepter. And if it got me in the good graces of the harpies, that was a bonus.
A cheer echoed through the room. Once that died down, there were more than a few muttered comments about how unlikely my success was. "What makes her think she can do this when none of us has ever been able to pull it off?" asked a harpy with a perfect upturned nose. Her companion only answered with a grunt.
"You have three hours," said Joanna. She turned her back, an obvious dismissal. The room resumed its excited chatter
.
I could tell by the way Joanna stayed in the middle of the room she was waiting for something, but I had no idea what it was, so I turned to Owen. "Come on," I said, waving to Owen. It hadn't gone as badly as I expected, but it still wasn't going to be easy. "Time is ticking."
That's what Joanna was waiting for.
"Stop," called the harpy. "The dragon waits here with us."
My shoulders sagged. I should have known they'd want me to pull this job off solo. "Fine," I said with a growl. "Owen, give me your keys." He looked like he wanted to argue, but must have known it was pointless.
Owen pulled his keys from his pocket, and Joanna called out again, "So does his vehicle."
"I don't want you stepping into the middle of some gang war without so much as a getaway vehicle," said Owen, gripping his keys in a tight fist. "We'll find what we need some other way. Just call this off."
A long, heavy sigh slipped out of me. He was probably right. This was a bad idea. There was bound to be another contact out there in the city somewhere I could use to get the information. The trouble was, the scepter was basically a ticking time bomb. I'd already expended my patience waiting for the reports to come in. Besides, some childish part of me wanted to impress the harpies and finally earn their respect. "Sorry Owen, I have to do this. We can't risk the scepter being used in Volarus."
Instead of the expected argument, he set his mouth in a firm line and nodded. "Be careful. I don't want to have to start a blood feud with the ogres if they kill you." He softened the statement with a half-grin that might have meant it was a joke.
"I'll try," I replied. It was the best I could promise with the time frame Joanna had given me. "See you in three hours."
CHAPTER FOUR
I peered into the window of The Grinding Bones in my crow form. It had taken me fifteen minutes to fly there. I spotted Gimpy the Skeleton easily enough, but his position in the main room of the bar meant that being careful went right out the window. Sorry, Owen. I watched for a few minutes more, taking in the positions of the ogres that sat around eating lunch and having a beer. They didn't look particularly mean or aggressive. I'd found that ogres liked the tough reputation their large size afforded them, but mostly they were big on family and community. The bar itself reflected that. Despite its imposing name, it looked like a cozy family place where the evenings would find ogre children running around or dozing by the fire.
I'd assumed this group of ogres would be different, what with the war they had going with the harpies. Something wasn't quite right, but I didn't have the time to puzzle it out. I had a job to do.
There was a hall near Gimpy that led to the back of the bar. I flew around to that side and found it blessedly empty. I shifted back to my human form and quickly scooped up my shorts and tank top. In a few seconds I looked like a respectable fae. The back door opened onto a narrow hall with bathrooms along one side and a door I bet led into the kitchen on the other. Conversation and laughter drifted down from the bar.
I made my way down the hall, aiming for casual but looking like a creeper. My version of a plan involved sneaking into the women's bathroom and peering out into the small portion of the bar area that I could see from there. There was no way I was going to waltz in and grab a clattering skeleton off the wall and walk out without being noticed. I needed a diversion. Thankfully, my fear magic had the word diversion written all over it. It wasn't much use in a lot of situations because it could cause complete havoc. This time though, that's exactly what I was looking for.
I calmed my breathing and searched my memories for something that would inspire fear, and settled on my old go to movie, Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds. It was ridiculous now, considering that I was a crow shifter, but the movie scared the crap out of me as a kid. I let the old fear spread through me and settle into the pit of my stomach. Gradually, I let loose my magic. It was as easy as breathing. Most of the time I had to keep part of my mind focused on it to keep it under control. The magic eased out into the world like a dread-laced fog, and I concentrated on the results I was aiming for. It was wishful thinking at best. My fear magic was unpredictable. Everyone responded to fear differently, but I figured focusing on a minor scuffle couldn't hurt.
Within seconds, the tone of the conversation in the bar changed, voices tight with tension. Everyone was on edge and didn't know why. They would search for a source of their unease. If they found nothing, their subconscious would manufacture a reason for the sudden spike in fear. A few patrons got to their feet and dropped bills on the table. I could hear them grumbling under their breath as they walked toward the front door.
One man walked down the hall where I hid, but his eyes were so focused on the exit he didn't notice me shrink back and close the women's restroom door to a crack.
Well, that took care of the ogres that came down on the flight side of the fight-or-flight reaction to fear. It was the ones who remained that were the real trouble. I continued to focus on the pulse of my magic and waited for the telltale sounds of a brawl beginning. I didn't have to wait long.
"What are you looking at?" growled a voice I couldn't see from my vantage point in the bathroom.
"Nothing much," replied a second voice.
A chair scraped on the wooden floor, and then all hell broke loose. Glass broke, chairs went flying. The bartender vaulted the bar, his eyes wide with fear for his bar. "Knock it off," he shouted, trying to pull two female ogres apart. He might as well have been trying to tear down a wall with his bare hands. It kept him heavily distracted; that was my chance.
I slid out of the bathroom, moving at an easy pace. Running would draw attention from the amped up crowd in the bar and they were likely to follow suit. I didn't need to start an ogre stampede.
"You shut your piss-guzzling mouth," bellowed a particularly rotund ogre as he crashed a chair into the back of the person next to him. I felt a little bad for all the trouble and pain I was causing, but it would be worth it if I could stop someone from exposing Volarus to the human world.
I rounded the corner and the skeleton known as Gimpy came into view. I wasn't an expert, but I was fairly certain it was made from real bone. It looked human. I was sure there was a story as to how it came to be hung there, and I was just as sure that I didn't want to know what it was. The creep-factor from handling a human skeleton must have amplified my fear power, because as I slipped back down the hallway I heard a terrified wail and a clatter through the wall on my right. I kicked it into high gear, holding the skeleton out in front of me as I ran.
A male ogre popped through the kitchen doorway holding a gigantic frying pan in one hand. I skidded to a stop in front of him with the skull just inches from his face. He turned, his eyes so wide I could see the whites all the way around them. The pan dropped from his hand and hit the floor with a sound reminiscent of a giant gong. He let out a high-pitched shriek and ran for the door.
Impulse made me turn back to see if the noise had drawn any attention.
It had.
The bartender barreled his way across the bar toward me.
"Stop," he shouted. "Drop Gimpy, you thieving bitch." He looked me straight in the eye.
Damn it. I'd gone to lengths to avoid being noticed. Now I was going to be on some ogre gang's hit list when this was over.
The easiest thing to do at that point would have been to let out one of my ear piercing wails. The magic behind it would drop the ogre to his knees, but even if he'd only gotten a rough look at my face, it wouldn't take much for him to ask around about a female fae with a killer scream and dark hair. I wasn't famous in Volarus by any means, but that description would lead straight to me. I needed to make a break for it. I bolted out the door. There was nowhere to go that I wouldn't easily be caught by the bartender. He was huge, but he could move.
It would have been faster to get away with empty hands, but I couldn't leave without the skeleton. The harpies would never give up the information I needed without it. My eyes settled on the sturdy wooden a
wning above the back door. Perfect.
I dropped the skeleton off to the side where he wouldn't be noticed and stripped out of my shirt, thankful I had left my bra tucked in the pocket of my shorts, and shifted to my crow form not a second too late.
The ogre's loud stomping stopped beneath the awning just as I shifted back to human. His growling was loud enough to cover any creaking under my weight. Carefully, quietly, I pulled Haiku from my hip and crouched. Steam from the ogre's heavy breathing puffed out below me. I slid my weight two inches to the right based on where I expected him to be positioned based on the steam. The moment the top of his head moved forward, I leapt into the air and dropped down hard on his shoulders. He grunted like my weight was merely an inconvenience. His cries when I nailed him in the back of the head with Haiku's hilt were much more satisfying.
"Get off of me!"
Two more hits, and we were drifting down to the ground. I kicked off and landed hard on my hands and knees, but it was nothing compared to the headache the bartender would be waking up with.
I pulled my clothes back on, grabbed the skeleton, and fled The Grinding Bones before anyone else got a look at me.
CHAPTER FIVE
The harpies were pleased.
"Yasss, bitch!" Out of nowhere, the shouting harpy grabbed my face with both hands and pulled me in for a wet, sloppy kiss.
"Yay?"
She threw her head back with laughter. Another harpy danced in, grabbed her hands, and the both of them danced away.
Owen took my hand. "Good job, Sophie."
"I guess so." The bar was in chaos. There were at least twice as many harpies around as there had been before I left. Human music blared over the speakers, both inside and outside the bar. The sky over the parking lot was full of harpies flying in swooping loops, hollering with joy. I ached to join them. It must be wonderful to have a group of people like yourself to fly with. I turned away from the open doors and windows, looking for Joanna. She'd greeted me at the door when I'd arrived, taken the skeleton into the screaming crowd, and disappeared in the throng. We found her in the back, in the center of a small group packed around a whiteboard.
