by Rowena Rede
Maya sat back down and folded her hands across her chest. “If you have investigators, pray tell, why do you need me? If it’s a routine high profile missing person case, then I’m sure your boss’s team can handle it.”
Again, he lost control of his robot stance for a second. He looked annoyed. She knew she’d hit a nerve.
“I share your opinion. My team is more than capable, but my employer isn’t someone you say no to. He was adamant that we get an elemental witch on our payroll. He seems to think you can get into places that we cannot. He also believes having an active power is better for defensive purposes.”
Maya noticed a few keywords. If this guy was Fae and he had an employer that outranked him, then she was probably dealing with Royalty. Fae took their hierarchy very seriously. While she wasn’t under the thumb of their outdated social caste system, this guy certainly was. He was right. As a witch, or at least when she was a fully functioning witch, she could sense magic in the air, counter curses and more importantly, she could go into places warded against most other creatures.
“So, which house do you serve and how dangerous is this missing person case? You could get any witch to help out for a nominal fee, but your employer specifically asked for an elemental witch. If I take this case I would need access to everything and I charge by the hour.”
The stranger pulled a portable hard drive out of the inside of his jacket pocket and tossed it at her. Maya caught it with ease and stared at it while he spoke.
“I’m a member of House Oberon. Stone Morgan, chief of security for River Oberon and Oberon Industries. That has all your information on it and if you secure your target in a timely fashion, then money won’t be a problem. Whatever you charge, we’ll triple it if you clear your accounts and only work on this case. We don’t want distractions. I’ll contact you shortly with the rest of your team.” He turned to exit before she caught on to what he was saying.
“Whoa, hold on there cowboy, my team? I work alone and I haven’t agreed to anything.”
Stone pointed to the hard drive in your hand. “Actually, you just did. I really hope your abilities as a detective are better than your abilities as a witch. It’s pretty easy to see that I was right to doubt bringing in outsiders to handle this matter.” He didn’t wait for her reaction and walked out, slamming the door firmly behind him.
Realization slowly dawned on Maya as she looked at the hard drive. Frigging Fae. By accepting the case file, she had made a contract with Stone. Accepting a token from a Fae was something you learned about as a child. It was a simple and unassuming transaction, but it held up and she was now magically bound to fulfill it. You can’t break faith with a fairy, it always ended badly.
It had been 4 days since he lost his job and his fight with Ison. 4 days of wandering around the house in his bathrobe and eating whatever convenient junk he could find. Thatcher was starting to think that unemployment wasn’t so bad. Right now, he was human sediment on a very comfortable patio lounger next to his heated in-ground pool. His recent misfortune hadn’t hampered his comfortable lifestyle too much, but that wasn’t going to last long. His savings were running low and he wasn’t qualified to do much else other than clandestine spy work. “I’ll worry about it tomorrow,” he sighed while adjusting his sunglasses, wincing as the rims touched his black eye.
The shiner that Ison had given him that night in the bar had finally started to heal. Will packed a punch. Thinking of his friend, he sighed. Ison was taking this way better than he was. Then again, an assassin with high-level security clearance and genius technological skills was in pretty high demand in the world of intelligence gathering right now. He probably went to work right after he deposited Thatcher on his sofa the night they learned they had been burned.
Park was in a much different position. His skills were more niche and outdated. Muscle with an attitude and bespoke suits didn’t relate well on the job market these days. He surveyed the yard, trying to distract himself from thinking about his poor job prospects. This place looks like shit. A week’s worth of beer cans piled haphazardly around him, while empty beef jerky bags fluttered in the soft breeze. He was disgusted with himself but tossed another can onto the pile anyway. “I’ll clean it up tomorrow,” he sighed reclined in his chair. Tomorrow always had the promise of a fresh start.
“Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you?” A familiar southern drawl interrupted his naptime.
“You know, Will, most people text before they visit. I thought your people were born with a Miss Manners rule book,” Thatcher responded without getting up or looking in Ison’s direction.
“My people? Is that some kind of gay joke?” Ison drawled, his accent more noticeable when irked.
“No, I just thought southern people got that shit beat into them or something. It’s like a thing on cable I think. Southern Something or Other, you know where they talk about genteel manners and have pretentious dinner parties…you know what, doesn’t matter. Why are you here?”
“We have a job.”
Thatcher sat upright and took off his sunglasses. Will blanched when he saw the damage he’d done to Thatcher manifested as a huge black eye and a swollen bottom lip. Ison’s horrified reaction gave him a bit of satisfaction.
“Well great. When do we start?”
Ison started to speak but quickly stopped. He covered his nose and mouth with his hands.
“Jesus, Thatch, you’re a mess! I can SMELL you from here! I’m not telling you anything until you hose yourself off.”
“Hey! First, you give me a black eye, then break in to my house and start yelling at me for trying to relax? I’m starting to wonder if we’re really friends.” Thatcher walked towards the house, secretly hoping he had a clean shirt and pants in the closet. He brushed passed Ison, who punched him on the shoulder.
“ I AM. A good friend always lets his friends know when they’ve surpassed Oscar the Grouch in the trash can lifestyle department. A contact reached out this morning. We have a private-sector security job waiting for us in Los Angeles.”
“Seriously? We’re freelancing now? How low have we fallen?”
“Just go take a shower. My eyes are watering over here. I’ll go over the details as soon you’re sobered up and smelling fresh as a daisy.”
Thatcher rolled his eyes. Ison absentmindedly started tidying up the kitchen table. “Hey, the cleaning person comes today, just leave it.” Ison looked continued clearing off the table, “I’m just trying to find a place to put my laptop down. You better tip your maid extra this time. They deserve it.”
Park threw his hands up in the air and left Will to fend for himself. The shower pressure was excellent and the water temperature was perfect, hot enough to melt your skin. As soon as he stepped in, his mood instantly brightened. Thanks to Will, they had some possibilities. He didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic, but he was looking forward to an adventure. He hopped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel, then padded down the hall to his bedroom. As luck would have it, he found a dry-cleaning bag with a fresh suit in it. He reached for it happily, then caught himself. Don’t bring out the big guns too soon, he reminded himself.
No use getting ready for work unless he knew the job was worth it. He rummaged around in his bedroom until he found something more casual. Jeans and a t-shirt. Simple. The new laid-back-denim-wearing Thatcher. Maybe he should grow a beard. Isn’t that what freelancers did? Grow beards and drink lots of coffee? He should probably check up on that. He thought about his new look for another five minutes before returning to the kitchen. This was strategic. If he took just the right amount of time, Ison would have the entire kitchen cleaned and the table set for snacks.
Will was so predictable. The open area kitchen/dining/living room was showroom ready and his friend had managed to find a bag of chips.
“How do you live like this?” Ison commented without looking up from his computer. Thatcher noticed the jumbo-sized energy drink unopened on the counter and reached for it. “No
t all of us have a subscription to Martha Stewart Living,” he retorted as he cracked open the can and took a big gulp. He immediately regretted it.
“Ison, how do you drink this stuff? Ugh, it's disgusting!”
Ison finally looked up from his computer. “First of all, Martha separates man from beast, do not disparage her good name around me. Second, it’s better if it’s cold. That was my last one so give it over if you’re not going to finish it. Third, don’t waste and I was referring to the landfill you call home, not your lack of real food in the house.”
Thatcher moved over to the kitchen table and took a seat, handing over the revolting drink to Ison. “You sure that stuff’s healthy?”
Will took a drink then replied, “Says the man who has booze in every room of his house.”
Touché Will, Touché. Thatcher simply shook his head and positioned his chair close to Will’s laptop.
“Alright then, tell me about this job.”
“This job is bullshit!” Maya screamed while pulling her hair in frustration and spinning her desk chair in an angry circle. Putting her hand on her desktop and forcing the chair to stop, she looked at all the clutter and notes piled haphazardly on it. One of those old office phones would come in handy right now. Imagining the satisfying crunch it would make as she smashed it against the wall was an instant stress reliever. It was probably a good idea she didn’t have one, it would probably end up being a really expensive therapeutic aid.
Apple was gone without a physical trace and her apartment was sealed forensically and magically until her family gave the ok for Maya or anyone else to inspect it. All her digging on social media resulted in nothing. The girl hadn’t been active since the day she turned up missing and her fans were starting to notice. She was surprised the Oberon family didn’t make up a bogus excuse. Iners causing a panic over Fae affairs could lead to a lot of complications. Incredibly wealthy and powerful people were always using PR firms to cover up stuff like this, why weren’t the Oberons?
This lack of urgency from the family made Maya more suspicious. While fae were notorious for being cold towards non-fae species, they were overprotective about their families and tribes. They looked out for their own. Why had they insisted she handle this case? She wasn’t the only PI who could handle this. There were at least a dozen supernatural PI’s in West Hollywood alone. This whole case stunk.
Over the past forty-eight hours, she interviewed Apple’s friends and nothing stood out. She was working on a waterproof makeup try out for her youtube channel and had been planning on interviewing a few water sprites and a siren. Siren’s could be dangerous, but they were usually female, which made other females immune to their lure.
Her requests to interview the family were met with silence. Suspicious. Picking up a stack of photos off the printer, she started pinning them on the corkboard easel in the corner of her office. It was tedious work, but organizing sometimes had its merits. After a few minutes, she had the icy blue eyes of River Oberon staring at her from the top of the board, followed by another social media influence, a vampire.
She needed to interview the vampire…How cliché. Vamps typically didn’t feed off fae or shifters for that matter. Their blood had adverse effects on them. Although, if he hadn’t fed in a while, this one could have lost control and attacked her anyway. Rare, but possible.
As for his royal highness, Apple’s brother, she didn’t have a motive, but the family was always number one on a suspect list. If she could sit down with him for just a few minutes, she could rule him out or make him suspect numero uno.
She needed to get in to Apple’s apartment too. All of her basic PI instincts were screaming at her to do a deep dive into the princess’s personal space. That was the top priority and If she didn’t get the all-clear from the family soon, she was going to have to take matters into her own hands. You don’t become a successful PI with a reputation for efficiency by following the rules anyhow.
Working in the private sector wasn’t as bad as Thatcher thought. Once Ison had contacted their prospective employer to take the job, everything happened almost immediately. By the early afternoon, they had signed a few standard liabilities and NDA contracts, put on their best black suits and were on their way to Los Angeles in a private jet.
“Will, who in the private sector wants to hire a few ex-black ops spies and has the extra cash to put us up like this,” he asked as he stretched his long legs out to their full length in front of him and popped the top off a mini-can of beer.
Will, sitting with his back to his friend, was busy firing off emails and texts with his phone while playing around with his laptop. “The onboard wifi is better than the setup we had at Shadownet. This is incredible,” he was in his element and ignoring Thatcher completely.
Thatcher rambled on. “So is the new boss a hedgefund guy, a tech billionaire, trust fund baby, royalty, or all of the above?” Ison remained fixed to his screens, his silence frustrating his friend. Thatcher tossed the now empty beer can at his head. “Earth to Ison, can I have some answers about the new boss before we land? I’d hate to piss off the person signing my paycheck for the next little bit.”
Ison finally looked up from his screens, when the can thumped against his forehead. “We went over this at your place. It’s the tech billionaire, River Oberon. His sister is missing and he doesn’t have faith in local law enforcement. He wants us to find her. Once we land, we’re to meet up with our new contact for debriefing.”
“Tech billionaire huh? Sounds like something out of a comic book. Wonder if we’re going to get cool gadgets, or better yet, a kick-ass car.” Park looked out the window. Nothing but fluffy white clouds as far as the eye could see. The onboard GPS estimated that they would be landing at LAX within the hour.
“How did you get this cushy job lined up so quickly anyway? I’ve never once heard you mention any billionaires on your contact list.”
Will stood up, stretching his long arms and letting out a sigh of relief. His neck hurt from leaning in too close to his laptop. “It was a long time ago. Just before I was recruited by Shadownet. I was interning at Oberon Industries in the cybersecurity department. Learning all kinds of dark web navigational tricks and whatnot. Long story short, I stumbled onto something I wasn’t supposed to and stopped a corporate coup. It was more than that though. There was evidence of a kidnapping plot. Mr. Oberon remembered I guess. Since his sister has a large internet presence, I suppose he thought of the computer guy who saved him from something similar a while back.”
“So you think this could be a repeat of that? Like someone is trying to complete the job that got canceled back then? Makes sense. Points off for unoriginality, nobody likes a reboot.” Thatcher hoped the case was that simple. Of course, in his experience, cases were never simple.
“This is your captain speaking. The weather in Los Angeles is a clear and balmy 78 degrees. We will be landing in an hour so please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts.” As soon as the intercom went dead, an attendant materialized out of nowhere to help them put away their things. Park was sure he hadn’t seen her before. She leaned over his lap to inspect his seatbelt and cooed, “All settled Mr. Thatcher?”
“Now where did you come from? I definitely would have remembered you on this long flight,” he smiled mischievously.
“Oh I’ve been around,” she purred and winked at him while folding his tray in the upright position.
“ I bet you have.”
“Um excuse me miss, could I have some ice for this drink before everyone buckles in?” The attendant, immediately excused herself from Thatcher to answer Ison’s request.
When she was gone, Thatcher glared at his friend.
“What? I’m thirsty, and I needed another caffeine hit. You don’t want me working with a migraine do you?” She returned quickly and Ison innocently bat his eyelashes at her as he accepted the glass of ice she offered, “Thanks so much.” She disappeared, presumably to buckle her own seatbelt.
&nb
sp; “Ison you’re such an ass,” Thatcher pouted. He didn’t like having his romantic possibilities thwarted.
“No, I’m professional. Can you at least keep it in your pants until after we solve this case and get paid?”
“I make no promises buddy.”
“God I hope our contact is an old bald guy who’s only a week away from retirement.”
“Hey Ison, if I can’t date during the case neither can you.”
“Hey Thatch.”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
Maya did nothing to hide the annoyed look on her face as she waited outside on the tarmac for her new colleagues. One of the perks of private planes, if you had enough money, no one cared if you hung out in restricted spaces. The private lounge was too crowded for her liking, especially before noon. She wasn’t a full-fledged introvert, but she avoided places that tended to be filled with chatty people already sipping on their third mimosa and a handful of Valiums starting to take effect. It just wasn’t worth the energy. Today’s crowd especially. In a room full of Beverly Hills Betty’s she would draw attention. Her style, faded jeans with holes in just the right places tucked into black motorcycle boots, and a loose slouchy black graphic tee with a UFO and the phrase, “I Want To Believe” emblazoned on the front definitely didn’t fit in with the Gucci handbags and Louboutin shoes everyone was sporting. Her chipped red nail polish and winged eyeliner didn’t give her any bonus points either. Her long black hair was loose and just touched her shoulders in a messy layered haircut, constantly giving her the “Just Rolled Out Of Bed” look. She cut it herself thanks to a shot of confidence from Jose Quervo and YouTube. Full of unspent nervous energy, she absentmindedly ran her fingers through it, building just a bit of height, and adjusted her leather jacket. She wanted to make a strong impression when she met Bert and Ernie for the first time. She was the boss on this job and she wanted to make it plain and clear to these bozos as soon as they got off the jet.
