by Gavin Green
Chapter 7
Late in the night, Enochia sat down in her chair in front of the alabaster table. She had just conversed with the sprite Neela and sent her back to the magistrate with a reply. The oracle had agreed to visit on the following evening at the given location.
The envoy of the Circle was sent more than likely because of the events that surrounded the little redcap's recent 'game'. Lorcan had indeed garnered some attention from it, but wouldn't be able to reap any benefits while still under Enochia's control.
This new situation would again involve the mortal Lynch, and possibly center on him yet again. It was unfortunately expected that in adjusting the man's past, future events would sometimes be random and unforeseen. After a few minutes of mental debate, Enochia decided to once again look in on that particular man, but hoped to simply glean information about his barriers that resisted such intrusion.
Multiple long blue fingers traced patterns into the table's grooves simultaneously, fighting against the fae-borne obstacles that guarded against deep insights. Enochia was able to penetrate certain aspects, but was only interested in the barriers themselves, getting a sense of their nature and given potentials. The procedure was new for the oracle; graced humans were quite rare, and studying the basis of that offered grace proved to be very taxing.
Enochia pulled her tired fingers away and exhaled a deep breath as the table's glow dimmed. She came away from the exhaustive search with two definitive answers. The grace was given by a troll, and definitely an elder of that noble race. Also was Enochia's strong assumption that the mortal was unaware of his gifts, and had barely begun to rouse them. Perhaps a wake-up call was in order, at the least for Lynch's own benefit.
With the black sheet settled over the table, Enochia mentally called for the vile little fae temporarily under her command. Less than ten seconds later, Lorcan suddenly appeared in the corner of the dim room, both legs and arms crossed as he hovered in the air. Enochia once again took in his long, wavy carrot-colored hair under a shabby, maroon porkpie hat, his overly wide mouth set in a sneer, his stained overalls and oversized muck-boots.
The seer shook her head with the sad knowledge that he, while talented, was otherwise pathetic, especially in the role of her emissary. Fortunately, Lorcan was a perfect choice for what Enochia next had in mind. She put her hands in her lap and addressed him. "Thank you for being so prompt."
Lorcan kept his sneer, and his squinting black eyes twinkled with impotent malice. "I only hurried to do your bidding and escape your curse of serfdom. The sooner I complete your loathsome tasks, the sooner I'll be free of you."
Enochia offered a soft smile. "I'm glad to see such enthusiasm. Should you please me with your efforts, then the second of your four tasks will come along quickly."
"Thank the elements for that," he snarled.
"But your first is yet to come, although I think you will come through with great success."
Lorcan huffed as he drifted closer. "Stop with your simpering banter and just tell me what you want."
Enochia took a moment to sift through his foul little mind, found the knowledge she sought and temporarily fogged it. Lorcan suddenly forgot how to make his body levitate, and immediately dropped to the ground. The impact of plunging five feet hard onto his backside forced out a grunt. He sat on the dusty floor for a few seconds in order to swallow the rage from his humiliation. He then stood with clenched fists and stared at her. Through gritted teeth, he asked, "The task?"
Enochia smiled sweetly. "Now that I have your respect again, we shall continue. Your first duty is simply to go have a conversation with Mr. Brody Lynch."
Temporarily forgetting his embarrassment, Lorcan smirked. "I doubt that one will want to converse much with me. My mere presence will provoke him."
She nodded. "So be it."
Lorcan tilted his head in confusion. "Not that it bothers me in the least, but you won't take exception that I will most likely anger him?"
"No, but have a care. Lynch may attack in his hatred for you... Not that I blame him."
Folding his arms, Lorcan sneered derisively. "We have little to fear from mortals, in case you've forgotten while sitting in this hovel for so long. They are frail and weak compared to fae on the whole. Lynch is large, but I'm not concerned."
Enochia slightly nodded her head, as if in reluctant agreement. "I simply do not wish for you to underestimate that one. It may cause your failure of what I want accomplished... and your failure would displease me."
Lorcan shrugged off her threat. "I'm not worried; he's no warrior."
She leaned forward to better see him past the table. "Oh, yes he is. He is simply reluctant. As the old mortal adage goes, 'beware the fury of a patient man'. But... trust your own judgment, Lorcan."
The little fae rolled his eyes. "When shall I drop in on him? And what might the topic of our chat be?"
Enochia reclined into her chair. "I will inform you of that when the time comes, and it will be soon enough. Be ready when next I call."
"Fine; may I go now?"
Enochia waved a small hand in dismissal and he instantaneously vanished. She was counting on the redcap's provoking nature and overconfidence in seeing to the upcoming task. His reactions left her with little doubt that she would not be disappointed.
***
On a sprinkling, cool Thursday morning, Kate parked her rattling old car and started her day at the bank. She sat at her desk arranging files and smiled at Mary, who was passing by to unlock the doors for another day's business. The only downside to leaving the job was that Kate was going to miss the white-haired, spicy auld gal. Her thoughts were interrupted when Mary backtracked and came to stand next to the desk of the seated young woman.
Kate looked up expectantly. "Good morning, Mary."
The older woman folded her hands in front of her. "And you as well, Kate. I wanted to let you know that I and the others - excludin' that stiff eejit Aiden McNally - will be at a small loss without your lovely face about."
Kate smiled in deep appreciation. "Thank you, Mary. That means so much to hear. I was just thinking that I'll miss you as well."
"You always were the sweet one, dear." With a moment's pause, Mary continued. "Joan, Emily and I were hoping you had no plans for lunch. We'd like to take you out for a nice, quick meal."
"That sounds grand, thank you! But you realize that my last day is tomorrow, not today."
Mary leaned forward to pat Kate's hand. "Of course, dear, but considering just that, we assumed that tomorrow you'd basically be a dossing pile of shite, and rat-arsed to boot. I know I would be, dear."
Kate laughed out loud. Mary joined her with a silent giggle and then turned to open the doors. Kate quickly said, "Mary, we'll still keep in touch, won't we? Pass Christmas gifts, and visit now and then?"
The older woman turned back with a melancholy smile. "I'd hope so, Kate. I'd hate to have to hunt you down. I don't have the energy I used to."
Glancing first at the clock and then back to Mary, Kate gestured to the chair across from her. The aging teller looked at the clock as well and then slowly sat. "Was there something else, dear?"
Kate frowned. "Speaking of Christmas, I had a quick question for you. Last night Brody mentioned gift-shopping, and I realized that I have no idea what to get him. I'd like your opinions."
Mary rested her elbows and folded hands on the desk. "You'd know better than anyone what to get him, at least around here. Does he have kin you could ask?"
With pursed lips, Kate shook her head. "No; no siblings, his parents have passed, and there's no extended kin that he's in touch with."
"How sad, the poor man."
"When he moved here," Kate went on, "Brody supplied himself with everything he wanted, so I'm at a loss for ideas. If it were you shopping for him, what would you get?"
"You mean if I were in your place, what would I get for my big strappin' fella?"
Kate smiled. "Alright, yes - what would it be?"
Mary answe
red with a straight face. "Manacles, to be sure."
Kate frowned. "Handcuffs, Mary?"
"Yes, indeed," the older woman explained. "With a man his size, I'd doubt that ropes would keep him secured to the bed for long."
