by brett hicks
I said, weaving a very detailed list of demands together. I might not spend any time in the center of attention with sups, but I have listened to many fae bartering in the markets on the weekends off as a younger woman. The fae are always masters of wording and letter-of-the-law.
Ernie seemed to be genuinely impressed with my demands. He smirked and for a moment I thought he might start haggling me down. He finally shrugged his shoulders and said, “Fair is fair, I accept the terms of your deal in full. I know you have just recovered your hand from me, but we must shake upon the successful creation of this pact between us, Avery Parker.”
He said my name, and I clasped his hand again. Golden light circled and spiraled around our wrists. A magiks deal was struck between us now. I could feel the agreement embed itself on my flesh, almost like a tattoo, but this one was invisible.
“Well, I can honestly say this was amusing to see.”
Sorcha walked into the room and I had not heard her lingering outside the door. Ernie looked at her, unsurprised by her sudden interruption.
“If yer done winding the young-one up, tell us what ye can of the killer. Leave nothing out and don’t you dare ask me for a deal, Ernie.”
Sorcha said, a warning in her tone. She was once a court fae of some type, I might never know the truth to her, considering her court was extinct. Ernie cleared his throat and began to tell us what he could of the magiks we described.
Seventeen:
After a bit of horse trading, we had new information about some potential clans and sects of supernaturals, which could have committed the murder. Ernie insisted that the most likely culprits were shadow-aligned sups.
Shadow-aligned meant that the sups were born with natural abilities of darkness, and other varying forms and degrees of light blocking abilities. This was still a very general and wide field to further narrow down. We had thousands of potential suspects in Ireland, according to Sorcha and Ernie. Shadow-alignment is a wide swath of sups who escaped to our world from a dark alternate world. I was interested to hear more about this whole alternate world collapsing story, but we couldn’t just leave Jimmy by his lonesome. After all, I had agreed to keep the wool over his eyes, at least until I caught the scum who murdered my vic.
“You sure you don’t mind me coming over?”
Sorcha asked, her tone was softer than usual. She was tipsy from her rose wine, and well, she did not fancy a drive in her condition. Sups are susceptible to drunkenness, but some of us sober faster than others. We still get migraines from excessive drinking, since that is more of a biological effect. There are some types immune to alcohol and its effects.
“Oh, sure, just me and granny. I’ve hardly ever had anyone over to the house. I want to warn you though, it is not exactly fae-friendly.”
I hedged, and I looked out my window as I changed to the left lane. Sorcha was leaning back in her seat, and she seemed to be willing the dizziness away. I was not exactly sure why she was gulping wine down, but she seemed to really love the stuff. Jimmy had offered to take her to her home, but she had chosen to come with me. I still didn’t get their whole alpha versus alpha thing, but I was certain it would eventually come up.
“Well, not like iron does anything to nature fae. We are the only fairies born on earth. The winter, the summer, and the iron fairies are all from another world connected to ours. That world is light on iron deposits, except in the portion controlled by the iron fae. The iron fae have little to worry about, so long as they hide in their metal construct homes and cities.”
She blabbed on to me, deep in her story-teller mode. Sorcha was old, even by some immortal standards. Her rapt storytelling seemed to showcase her age. No young twenty-something Irish girl was interested in giving an oral dissertation of ancient fairy history, well not any I ever met!
“I can check that off my list of light reading topics now.”
I sassed to her playfully, and Sorcha threw her head back against the seat and roared in laughter. Seeing how normal she was, gave me hope that if I lived as long as she has, I might not be a complete stick-in-the-mud. Sorcha acted like she was eternally twenty-something. I had to guess that her maturity and experienced appeared when she needed them, otherwise; she seemed to default to the age she appeared.
***
“This is vulgar as shite! If I did not know you were a nice person, I would assume you were a bigoted arsehole who hates fairies.”
Sorcha said, as she looked at the spiral pattern in my granny’s yard. I scratched absently at a spot on my neck.
“Granny thinks it confuses fairies, and therefore keeps them off her lawn.”
I explained, to her in a casual tone. I spared her a sympathetic look.
“I promise, she is no more or less racist than any other Irish lady.”
Sorcha snorted derisively and quipped, “Oh, sure, cause our lot are so nice and welcoming to outsiders, are we?!”
I sniggered and rolled my eyes, as we walked to the door.
“Granny’s likely snoozing her brains out now. Just be quite going in, don’t wanna wake her up. Then we will never get any sleep and Jim will be barking mad with us in the morning.”
Sorcha chuckled and gave me a knowing smile.
“Fancy him, do ye?”
I felt my face turn red quickly at her question. I waved the question off and finished unlocking the two locks on the door.
“I don’t shit where I eat, as they say.”
I told her, and she gave me a doubtful look, but kept her peace.
We both had better than human night vision, so it spared us from cutting on the lights. I knew my granny, she would talk Sorcha’s head off, then make loads of pancakes and sausages. Granny considered every social visitor to be a dinning companion. Like my granny, I also preferred a good breakfast, even to most dinner meals.
I lead my new friend and colleague to my humble room. I had wished I could have hidden some of the clutter, but Sorcha was getting the full tour.
“Lovely assortment of armaments you’ve got here.”
Sorcha sassed quietly, and I gave her an inquisitive look.
“You are telling me you don’t have a bunch of weapons lying around your flat?”
Sorcha shook her head and said, “Well, at least it took me longer to gain this many.”
I scowled at her with a faux-withering look. She was unfazed by my not-so-angry face. I have not had female friends to banter with before, and it honestly felt liberating and invigorating. It reminded me of a time long ago, a time well before tragedy and revelation changed my life entirely.
“It’s a bit Spartan, well, minus the clutter of dirty clothes and pointy objects.”
Sorcha observed aloud, and I felt the slightest hint of a blush creep into my cheeks. My room was as tomboyish as I was. I cleaned, before mold set in at least. I was much too focused on my career and my obsession with catching naughty things, doing naughty deeds. Home care took a back seat to this. I was not a slob, but to say I was Martha Stewart, would be a boldfaced lie!
“I suppose you have brownies to do all your chores for you?”
I quipped lightly, and Sorcha snorted and shook her head.
“Oh no! Those little OCD buggers would make me into a murderess! They suck honey straight from the comb, it’s disgusting! I mean, ever heard of bear honey in the plastic bottles?! This is not the blimey dark ages!”
“You would know, you were basically alive during them.”
I shot at her in a sassy tone, and she spared me an incredulous look.
“I could have had you flayed for that remark, back when I was still at court. Consider yourself lucky.”
Sorcha said, I could tell that her wistfulness was there, even though she hid it well.
“I would love to hear about your people someday, when we are less knackered and don’t have a grumpy sup to report to in the morning.”
Sorcha sniggered and said, “The Boss, yeah what a ride he would be!”
She wiggled her bro
ws suggestively, and I moaned in mock disgust. I felt a little shocked at her taste in men. Come to think of it, my taste was odd, to say the least.
“The boss? But he’s an ursine shifter, everyone—including me—knows that they can only mate with their own kind! It sets most shifters into their communities to keep the bloodlines pure.”
Sorcha waved me off and said, “You think the boss has this job because he is doing everything by the shifter book? Naught, he is a banished alpha male. He was usurped while at war defending his tribe, and one of his distant relatives did not like knowing he would have to give up the throne once the boss returned from battle. So, he plotted and planned. The boss won their safety at great cost, but he could never return home again.”
I looked at her and I felt a pulse of sympathy for DI Templeton. He seemed to me to be a very effective and loyal leader of sups. He did not appear to have any prejudice towards vamps in the office, nor did he seem to have any of the lesser quirks of most shifter males. He was a gruff gentleman in his own right. He was the type of man who inspired loyalty and courage. I could envision him leading troops on a charge in battle. Hell, this girl right here would follow him into a battle. Granted, I did not foresee any Braveheart scenes being reenacted in modern Dublin.
“Oh sure, he is alpha as all bloody hell, but no shifter woman will touch him. He cannot offer them any position or pack-life security. Pack is everything to shifters, even ursine.”
Sorcha instructed me, and I nodded in comprehension.
“Bugger-all, poor Harry.”
“Don’t ye go around showing that man pity. You would be for the high jump! And don’t ye go gabbing about this to anyone else!”
I flashed her a hurt look and deadpanned, “Gee, thanks! That’s me, poor ole Avery, cannot keep her bloody gob shut!”
Sorcha snorted, and she waved vaguely and rolled her eyes at my faux hurt.
“Hey, I gotta cover me bases. That man’s temper is legendary! I’m pretty sure he can kill a person with a look, if he wants to.”
I chuckled at her, and I tossed a pillow to her from my closet.
“You take the bed; I’ll get the floor.”
I told her, and Sorcha arched a brow and sassed, “You’re joking, right?! Afraid you might not be able to resist the urge to mount me in my sleep, do ye?”
She arched her imperial and cocky brow in question. I huffed and growled slightly at the implication. I was an advocate of the LGBT community, but I was starkly straight in my sexual cravings. Men, despite their plethora of pitfalls, satiated my “itch” in the bedroom.
“Quite full of yer self, aren’t ya, madam?!” I sassed back at her, and she pat the bed and spread her arms in a wide gesture.
“Then there is plenty of room for two skinny girls. Just keep it above the waist on the first date, luv.” She winked at me playfully and I tossed my pillow at her head. She just laughed and let the pillow collide with her shoulder harmlessly. Sorcha was infuriating, but she made me feel more deeply. She challenged me to move out of my self-imposed exile. While she was adorable, sadly, she was not my type. Still, I could hope that this was the beginning of a true and genuine friendship.
“I swear, if you go into the station claiming I shagged you, I will empty my fairy rounds into your bullocks.”
I informed her, and Sorcha sniggered softly, as she lay down and began to cozy herself up for sleep. It had been half a lifetime or more since I had slept in a bed with a girlfriend. I had been a pre teen the last time I had a friend over for the night. Even back then, my dad was already grooming me in my training, and I was pulling away from my “normal” friends. He was controlling and demanding, two terrible flashing red lights in retrospect. However, he had never harmed me. Despite all he did, my dad was gentle towards me.
With my thoughts turned reflective, I did not even notice as sleep took me under.
Eighteen:
My alarm assaulted my eardrums way too early! I considered tossing the blimey thing out the window, but I resisted the urge, if only just! Muttered curses sounded from beneath my covers. I suddenly remembered I was not alone in bed. Curled up in a tight little ball, Sorcha was on the other side of the bed. I could barely see a few flashes of her body, she seemed to enjoy sleeping buried deep in covers.
“Chut… Bloody…Clock!” She murmured against the thickly insulated bedding. I caught the gest though, and I managed not to snigger aloud at her. If I had to hazard a guess, I was certain Sorcha was feeling the after-affects of her wine.
“Come on, I’ll make coffee, and a cuppa for you.”
“Coffee and loads of bloody food to wash it down!”
She sassily instructed. Sorcha truly was like a queen on her throne. She was kind and considerate, but she also had a naturally regal disposition and the expectations of service that came along with this bearing.
Granny was already flipping pancakes when I came out. My nose led me to the gloriously rich smell of her homemade goodies. I had truly missed waking up to her delicious cooking since I had been posted away from Dublin for years now. If I was being honest, granny was the only tether I had allowed myself over the years.
“Mornin gran, sleep well?”
I said, forcing as much sheer into my voice as possible.
Aye, I slept well, considering I was not the one off gallivanting until the ungodly wee hours of the morning.”
I gave her a sheepish smile and shrugged my shoulder.
“By the way, I have a friend who slept one off here. She is a nature fairy, so none of yer fairy crack.”
I warned my granny, who just gave me her most innocent look.
“Yer surely not suggesting I am racist against the little beggars, are ye?”
She asked, unaware of how her words sounded to me. I shook my head and huffed a stabilizing breath.
“Just be nice, yeah?”
I asked, and she looked at me with a bewildered look.
“Alright, I’m not a completely senile old-one. Message received, little gob-shite!”
She said to herself, but anyone with ears could decipher her words. Granny was a crass lady; she spoke her mind, and she was unafraid of being vulgar. While she had her own charm and sweetness, she was also stuck in the past.
“Good morning, dear. Oh, would you look at this, a lifetime of looking and I finally see a fairy.”
Granny said, and I snorted in amusement. Sorcha had more golden mixed in with her ginger hair, and her long-tapered ears were unveiled now. I had barely noticed her most notable inhuman trait. She almost appeared luminous in her enchanting and magical beauty. Fae were breathtaking to behold in all their splendor. She was fresh out of my shower, yet she looked better than I could hope to in the evening, dressed to the nines.
“Morning, hope the water pressure was up to code.” I said playfully, and her eyes danced in genuine amusement.
“It could be worse; you could have a selkie trying to attack you every time you open your bathroom door.”
Sorcha said, and her tone was so mater-of-fact, that I soon realized this was an actual life event. I wanted to ask more, but granny cut me off.
“Do yer folk like pancakes? I just assumed everyone likes pancakes.”
Sorcha smiled sweetly at my kooky granny.
“It’s lovely to meet you Mrs. Parker. You raised a spectacular young woman.”
She said earnestly, and gran seemed to soften a shade.
“Don’t know what yer on about, that young-one ain’t quite raised yet.”
She sassed back, and Sorcha chuckled in amusement.
“Indeed, she is a bit of a big kid at times.”
Sorcha agreed, and I growled at them and raised my hand.
“She’s right between you two, you know!”
They both held a knowing exchange for another moment. I had been worried my fairy friend and my granny would be at odds with one another, little did I suspect they would team up on me!
“Stop blocking the way, go pour yerself some of
that coffee you seem to love so much.”
Granny chastised me sternly, and I spared her a single withering look. She brushed it off and kept her pace of mixing and stirring ingredients into a large bowl filled with batter.
“So, you finally come out of the closet and made a friend?”
She looked at Sorcha meaningfully and added, “This one always hides herself away like she’s one of those dark brooding avenger types from those funny little magazines she read as a girl.”
I sniffed and put in, “They’re called graphic novels, granny. You make me sound like a right ole wanker. Don’t know what I would do without family here to support me!”
I sassed sarcastically and Sorcha watched us with laughter dancing in her eyes.
“Avery tells me you repair antiques and clocks, Mrs. Parker. Have you always done that?”
Sorcha asked, cutting the tension between granny and I. Granny smiled sweetly to my friend and said, “I’m a woman of many talents, but repairing old things seems to have become a specialty of mine. You live long enough, and you end up repairing the things young-ones break with their carelessness.”
Granny ranted, as she began to pour the batter into the skillets over the stove.
“Do fairies have any aversion to bacon? I am not sure if yer lot are vegans, and such.” Granny asked bluntly, and Sorcha’s eyes danced in deep amusement at granny’s blunt curiosity.
“Oh, I love bacon, cannot imagine living my many years without it!”
“Coffee or tea?”
I asked Sorcha, cutting in and she pointed to the coffeepot with a big grin on her face.
“Just a dash of milk and a few sugars, please.”
She said, and I began to pour the delicious dark brew into several mugs. Granny was a tea person, so I poured her a cup of tea, after I had finished with the coffee.
“You know me, darling, milky one sugar. Can’t ruin all the good bitterness of the cuppa, can we?”
Granny said, sounding positively aristocratic.
