Emerald City Dreamer

by Luna Lindsey

  Maybe it would help if she sat out milk for them.

  “Hi, my name is Tom. I believe in fairies too. They are the same thing as angels, ghosts, spirit guides, totem animals, and UFOs. We are on the verge of a new awakening; an enlightened consciousness, where the curtain between the dimensions will lift, and beings will cross over and teach us their wisdom…” Jina let him prattle on, as she had the others. Probably a good backup source for LSD, but not a good source of facts. Tom politely finished after five minutes.

  By now Kimberly and Jared were flirting as much as is possible without being able to talk or touch. Jina sighed. Then she thought to glance across at the other new guy. He opened his mouth, then hesitated, then opened his mouth again. The ones who hesitated were more likely to have a real story bottled up inside. Jina tried to encourage him by smiling and raising her eyebrows, the way psychologists sometimes did on movies.

  “I guess I’ll go next,” he began, looking at his hands in his lap. “This is going to sound really weird.” Good. Somebody sane enough to know that encounters with faeries are weird. “I have this thing, where, sometimes, when I look at someone, they look… different. As if they aren’t really human. As if they are shorter than they should be, or too tall. Or have animal ears, or strange faces. I still see the person, but it’s like there’s this second image on top.

  “When I was little, I thought it was normal. Until one time after church, I was trying to describe the pastor’s wife to my mom, and I said, ‘You know, the lady with the tail’. She looked at me like I was crazy, and then I said, ‘the one with goat legs’. My mom freaked out and called me a liar and slapped me. She said I was never to say such cruel things about the pastor or his wife again. And so I’ve never told anyone since.

  “But I see them all the time. Like a couple of weeks ago. I work at Trader Joe’s, and I was throwing out old produce. I went into the alley, and there’s this kid jumps out of the dumpster. Scared the shit out of me. He hops on his bike and rides off like the wind. But he had horns, growing right out of the top of his head. He wasn’t dressed normally either.

  “Lately a lot of creatures in movies seem really familiar. Like Hellboy II and Pan’s Labyrinth. So I started thinking maybe what I’m seeing are faeries. Which only makes me feel more crazy. Then I saw your flyer…” He looked up at Jina. “…and decided to come.”

  Got one. Not much trauma, at least not that he was telling, but Jina was sure he could see real fae. Faesight was a rare talent. Even Gretel could only see their auras, unless she tried really hard and knew what to look for.

  She had to get his number, and now not just for a date. She looked at Gretel and nodded.

  Kimberly started to talk again, continuing her mind-numbingly cute tale from before. After a few minutes, the young man glanced at his watch, and then stood up, gave an apologetic shrug, and started to leave the room.

  “Wait!” Jina interrupted, breaking Rule Four. Kimberly shot her an annoyed look.

  The man turned back and tapped his watch. “Sorry, I thought the meeting was only an hour. I have to be somewhere.” And with a wave he was gone. Just like that. He hadn’t even said his first name during sharing…

  Jina nudged her teammate in the arm with her elbow and Gretel got up to chase after him.

  “Can I keep going?” Kimberly asked.

  “Uh, yes, as long as everyone else who wanted got a chance to share?” Everyone nodded.

  “Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, so Flutterbug tapped on my window three times because it was raining, so I let her in.”

  Gretel returned five minutes later, out of breath and empty-handed, slowly shaking her head.

  CHAPTER 2

  *

  IT WAS TIME TO CHECK the traps.

  Sandy buttoned up her jacket in the foyer of her Capitol Hill mansion. She planned a quick walk to the park, before it got dark, first to check the iron cage on the north end–

  A shadow briefly passed across the beveled sidelights that framed the door. A figure moved outside.

  Sandy swung open the door a crack, immediately suspicious. They never had unscheduled visitors, and she did not recognize the man who loitered there. She let her eyes flicker over the white-on-white detection strips along the tops of the waist-high brick porch posts. Any glamour would turn the symbols permanently black.

  To her disappointment, the stripe remained white. Sandy laughed at herself. She couldn’t expect the fae to just show up at her doorstep.

  He smelled like piss and cigarette smoke, and wore a green quilted coat, a grey-and-red striped scarf, and an orange ski hat. Probably an addict of some kind who had wandered into the nice part of the neighborhood from busy Broadway, just a few blocks away.

  “Uh, oh, uh, well, pardon me, uh, ma’am,” he stammered. “Is Jina at home?”

  “No she isn’t,” Sandy said, holding the door between them like a shield. “What do you want with her?”

  “Ah, well, I was hoping to buy a CD. At her last show, you see, she’d sold out, and she said I could drop by and–”

  “She’s not here right now.” Sandy stepped out onto the porch, closing and locking the door behind her. “I was just leaving. Try back later.”

  It bothered Sandy that Jina gave out their address to strange drug-addled men who aspired to being homeless. Jina’s obsession with her music was a distraction from their real work.

  “Listen,” she said turning to him, “Jina isn’t here, and you can’t drop in like this. If you really want a CD, try her next show.”

  “Oh,” the man said. But he didn’t turn to leave. He clasped his hands behind his back, looking at the trees above, singing, “Sunday, Monday, Tuesday…”

  Behind her, Sandy heard the lock click open. All by itself.

  Sandy held her breath and glanced at the posts. The glyphs now contrasted darkly against the white background.

  This was not some junkie music fan. A real, live faeborn had walked right up to her.

  He might be able to unlock the door, but if he wanted in, he’d never get past the iron and wards surrounding the doorway. Not until she dragged him forcibly across the threshold. If this faerie bastard dared come here for Jina, he would not have her. Sandy would take him instead.

  “You know, now that you mention it…” she stalled, trying to think of a plan. “It’s almost five. I think she said she’d be back by five. You want to wait here for her?”

  She looked intently at him, hoping she’d be ready.

  “Better yet, let me call her…”

  Sandy pretended to dial Jina on her smartphone, but really she tapping an icon, an emergency app Hollis had written. It would summon him and send a stream of geolocation updates, telling him her exact location.

  While she held her phone up to her ear, she stared at him.

  She hoped to see his faecast, the image of his faerie form. Invisible in any physical sense, his faecast was composed of dream-material, the stuff of human imagination. Her mind gave her an easy explanation. He was obviously just some guy. She struggled to overcome reason and see beyond – to the pointy ears, animal tail, long arms or claws, warty face, or whatever other nonsense about him was too difficult to believe.

  If this freak wanted to be seen, he could expend glamour and show himself. But that wasn’t likely. He wanted to stay hidden.

  The man stared back, his head cocked. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He took a half-step forward until he was within arm’s reach.

  It was too much, too sudden. She tried to maintain her clam, feeling the heat coming off of his body, and though she had protections, and though Hollis was on his way up from the basement, she flinched.

  “Sunday…” he said.

  Sandy grasped a chain around her neck and yanked out an iron amulet, holding it between them. “Immortal fae, stay away…” she began chanting.

  He held up his hands in a defensive posture and scrambled down the stairs, almost falling. He ran.

  So much for plans.


  Sandy took off after him, hoping Hollis would soon catch up.

  The faerie had a head start, almost half a block. He took a right turn at the corner, and Sandy followed. Then he darted in front of a parked Landrover and vanished from sight.

  Sandy slowed and cautiously crept forward, her eyes intent on all sides of the SUV, waiting for him to either jump out at her or make a break for it.

  Hollis appeared beside her, less out of breath than she was from the run. His long white ponytail exposed his pierced ears, and he wore a tan canvas kilt and a black t-shirt stretched tightly across his round belly. He carried a gym bag.

  He didn’t look old enough to have such white hair, but then, he never would talk about what had happened to him, either.

  She silenced him with a finger and pointed to the front of the Landrover. She locked her thumbs together and fluttered her fingers like wings. Hollis nodded and slowly unzipped the bag. He pulled something out and went around the street-side of the vehicle as Sandy moved along the sidewalk.

  She held her amulet in front of her, dangling from its chain, and whirled into view of the hiding place.

  There was no need. The faerie was gone.

  “Crap,” Hollis said. “I was hoping to finally get to use these.” He held up a handgun and pair of wrought iron manacles. She noticed his shirt said: RTFM. Whatever that meant. She supposed it was witty, though she didn’t really feel like asking.

  “A gun?” she asked, holding a hand against her burning chest.

  Hollis tilted it sideways, admiringly. “That nykk wouldn’t have got away had I seen it. How did you see it?”

  “It was faeborn.” She motioned towards the manhole cover right behind Hollis. Cast iron, not wrought. Enough to annoy, but not bar entry, to a faerie. “Probably went in there. Could be anything down there. Damnit.”

  “What was he doing so close to our house?”

  “He wasn’t just close; he wanted in.” Sandy tucked the amulet back under her shirt. “Looking for Jina. We need to warn her when she gets home.”

  Her breath finally started to come back. She’d need to get into shape if they were going to be literally chasing fae through the streets. She brushed her mid-length auburn hair out of her face and tidied up her clothes, and hoped sweat wasn’t showing through the blouse. “The amulet worked really well,” she continued. “He was more scared than I was, so Jina probably has nothing to worry about.”

  “My app worked really well, too. Did you see how fast I got here? Though it could use a more accurate–”

  Sandy interrupted him. She loved the guy, she really did, but Hollis could go on sometimes. “Tell me on the way back. I still have to check the traps.” She started down the block, towards home and towards the park. Tall, budding trees grew on the strip of grass between the street and sidewalk and shaded expensive cars and mansions.

  Hollis followed.

  “You sure you don’t want me to go the rest of the way with you to the park?” Hollis asked. “He might return.”

  Sandy grinned. “Let him. We’ve got the superior firepower, and he knows it.”

  “You caught him by surprise. You might not be able to count on it working against a planned attack.”

  “I’ll be fine. I haven’t felt this safe in years.” She stopped in front of the house. “You stay here, and I’ll be right back. Hopefully with a trapped nykk.” She waved and continued towards Volunteer Park at the end of the street.

  It was good to know the glamour detector and protective spells worked. She stood a good chance at running a competent secret society of hunters after all. If that guy wanted something from Jina, he’d be back. Then they’d have a plan. Then they’d get him for sure.

  Sandy ran the only operating faerie hunting organization in the world, that she could find. And she’d researched all of them.

  The best had been the Frumentarii Ferrumcrucians. Their name roughly meant, “The Imperial Spies of the Iron Cross”. They were founded by Roman Emperor Zeno with the stated purpose of eradicating the Hellenistic gods in support of the new state religion. They turned their iron swords on animistic spirits, lesser gods, and nymphs: all Roman concepts synonymous with “faerie”.

  The Catholic Church supported them, unofficially, for centuries. Unlike the Inquisition, they hunted down worshipped beings rather than human heretics. What better way to stamp out pagan beliefs than to kill the very source of those beliefs?

  No one knew if they had any success in destroying the gods, or if the gods even existed. But faeries they slaughtered successfully, almost eradicating them from Western Europe by the fifteenth century. No more night terrors for Dark Ages Germans, Slavs, or Gaels.

  After the Catholics withdrew funding and legal backing during the Enlightenment, the Ferrumcrucians continued to function on a smaller scale until two centuries ago. Then all references vanished. Perhaps they’d been destroyed, or perhaps they’d gone further underground. Sandy would rather join them, and maybe, if they still existed, they would eventually find her. For now, she could only build her own group based on their remarkable example.

  During the Victorian era, there had been a spiritual revival. Several new groups, like the Fairy Investigation Society and The Institute for Faery Inquest, were founded to scientifically investigate fae phenomenon. When belief in the fae waned once again, both groups blinked out of existence. The Theosophy Society remained, but had veered far off into religious fantasyland and was of no help to her.

  The Institute for Faery Inquest once had a strong presence in Seattle. That had influenced her decision to move here. Jina favored Seattle for her own reasons. Some of Jina’s family had lived in Washington at one point, and she liked the culture here. Their heads had been full of aspirations of building an army to wipe faeries from the earth, and they were well on their way.

  They called the new group Ordo Cruentus Ferrum Talea: The Order of the Bloody Iron Spike. The Latin grammar wasn’t correct, but the rest of the group had voted down “Ordo Cruentae Ferreae Taleae” because it didn’t sound “cool”. The faeries wouldn’t care, and neither would anyone else.

  Sandy headed for the farthest end of the park, surrounded by evergreens taller than any building in the neighborhood.

  The delay from chasing that faeborn had cost her a little bit of sun. Dimly-lit walkways led her past the brick water tower and Asian Art Museum, through the shrubs to the 1912 white-framed glass Conservatory. Rare plants from around the world pressed their leaves against the windows inside. A lot of people got married in front of this building. Sandy shuddered. Best not think of unpleasant things while doing unpleasant work. She pushed the thought quickly from her mind.

  She approached the large evergreen rhododendron bush that hid the trap, reaching up into the curving branches to retrieve it.

  Hollis had made it out of iron, real antique wrought iron from the years before they started making everything out of steel. It didn’t look much like a trap now, just some bits of black metal that barely connected to one another. When sprung, it would close into a three-inch cube cage.

  The bait remained untouched. A glyph had been drawn with reactive chemicals, and then wrapped in paper to protect it from light. This package had been soaked, coated with honey, and connected to an electronic device via a thin black wire.

  If a faerie had taken the bait, it would have been after the toradh, the life energy contained within the honey. Toradh came from the act of creation in all life, but especially from human endeavor.

  That’s why that creep had been after Jina, no doubt. He wanted more of the toradh he’d tasted in her music. And it wouldn’t keep well on a CD. He wanted it fresh.

  All food naturally contains a little toradh, but food prepared by a good cook absorbs even more from the process of creation. Strangely, honey and milk had naturally high levels, even without preparation.

  Gretel had explained it by telling of how her grandmother’s apple cake always left her feeling completely satisfied, full, happ
y. Gretel, or Sandy, or a machine, could make the same recipe, and it was just cake, tasty but unsatisfying. Her grandmother had been a dreamer of sorts.

  Gretel speculated that bees made honey with intent and care, just like a sculpture or a song. That didn’t explain why milk also had high natural levels, but Sandy took comfort in believing there were rules.

  Jina had further charged this honey by writing a song and drawing the glyph. The honey had absorbed the creative energy of the music to become supersaturated and irresistible to a wandering faerie wisp. Once drained, the glyph would turn from black to white. A small hand-soldered device would detect the change and trigger the spring on the trap, enclosing the nykk in iron.

  Then they would have a faerie spirit.

  But not this time. Nothing here had taken the bait. Carefully, she reset the trap in the under-branch of the bush, where human eyes would not pry.

  She made her way back in the direction she had come, towards the museum.

  Two koi ponds and a modern sculpture overlooked a reservoir. Sandy had a good view of the downtown lights from here, but she paid them no mind. Behind the koi pond, third tree to the right, that bush there.

  She reached up blindly into the leaves, and suddenly jerked her hand back. Her middle finger bled from three tiny teeth marks.

  “Fucking nykk,” she muttered. Next time she would remember to wear gloves.

  She quickly searched for a stick in the darkness of the park. The few old-fashioned street lamps from the nearby path helped, as did the fact that there had been a recent wind. She found a branch that was a little too big and still had prickly pine needles attached. She maneuvered the bare end under the bush, and pulled out the trap.

  It had sprung as designed, and was now a three-inch cube made of iron bars. To her eye, it appeared empty. The only evidence of a faerie was the bleeding bite on her finger and a chill that raised the hairs on her arms.

  Jina would probably be able to see this one, if she tried. Gretel for sure. What a nasty little beast. She hoped the cage was much too small for it and that it got a stiff neck.