by M. D. Massey
7
I hid behind the front seats while Belladonna drove my car into the trailer’s dirt and gravel driveway. The drive was riddled with potholes, and I mourned my poor car’s suspension as I was jostled around. Fortunately, the effect was minimized by the fact that I was wedged tightly in the small space between the front and back seats.
“You’re just going to knock on the door?” I asked.
“No, and yes. That’s what the clipboard is for, to give me a reason for knocking on the door.”
I popped my head up, quickly scanning the trailer before I dropped back down again. “She has a look away, go away spell on her trailer. Doubtful she’ll believe you.”
“Meh, it’s worth a shot.”
“Fine. But if she starts casting enchantments, don’t expect me to remove them for you. I’ve better things to do than spend my time moonlighting as a part-time curse and hex exterminator.”
Belladonna stuck her tongue out at me, just before she exited the vehicle. She walked up to the trailer, clipboard in hand, and I monitored her progress while hidden in shadow inside the vehicle. She mounted the wobbly, faded wooden steps, rapping on the door sharply before announcing her presence.
“U.S. census worker,” she called out in a pleasant, sing-song tone.
Something disturbed the yellowed curtain in the door window, which had been cracked and repaired with faded, peeling duct tape. A muffled reply came from within, a rough female voice that sounded like the speaker had been gargling dry sand.
“Who is it?”
“I’m from the census. Susan Carver—” Belladonna pointed to an undoubtedly fake or stolen ID tag that hung from a lanyard around her neck. “—Austin office.”
“How’d you find my house?”
“It’s on my assigned addresses for today,” she replied with a smile as she tapped the end of her pen on the clipboard. “See? It says right here—‘O’Cleary residence, 613 County Road 353.’”
“You don’t look like no government worker. More like a biker bar stripper on her day off.”
Oh, this is not going to go well.
Belladonna’s smile grew taut as her voice became strained. “No, ma’am, I’m one-hundred percent an employee of the federal government. I just need to get the names and ages of all the residents currently residing at this address.”
“Ain’t no O’Clearys here, no how. That’s my old man’s name, but we’ve been broken up for months. And he don’t live here.”
Belladonna was not deterred. She looked down at her clipboard, checking an imaginary box. “And your name would be?”
“I ain’t got to tell you that. Three people live here, and that’s all the information you gots to have. Now get, before I lose my temper.”
“I need their names, Ms. MacRath.”
“I never told you my maiden name,” the speaker replied in a low, dangerous tone. She paused for a half-beat before continuing. “Eh, I knew you was fibbin’. You’d better git before I sic Cull on you.”
“Ma’am, I assure you—”
“Katy!” the woman screamed. “Tell Garth to let Cull out his pen.”
I heard a door slam in the distance, then came a high, lonesome howl from behind the trailer. That was all it took to make Belladonna flee. She was a dog person through and through and would avoid hurting a canid if possible—even the supernatural variety.
“She has a freaking perro negro!” Belladonna exclaimed as she jumped into the front seat of the car, slamming the door and locking it.
“Hmm, yes—I recognized its hunting call. Although, I believe the proper term for a Scottish barghest is a choin duibh, notwithstanding that all such species derive from the same genus of fae, canis magicus.”
“I didn’t think they could appear during the daytime!”
“That’s actually a myth. It depends on the individual preferences of the specimen.”
“Crowley, it’s headed this way—please tell me this thing is warded.”
I sat up so I could look through the windshield at the pony-sized black dog currently rounding the back corner of the trailer home. It appeared to be a giant, coal-colored mastiff, albeit with glowing red eyes, razor-sharp teeth, and a slathering maw that looked as if it could take one’s leg off in a single bite. Frankly, I thought it was a beautiful creature, if a little malnourished and neglected by its owner. I continued to observe the choin duibh with curiosity while it slowly stalked from one side of my car to the other.
“You know, I wanted a choin duibh pup badly when I was a child,” I remarked. “After asking for weeks, Fuamnach gave me one to play with for an afternoon—then she snapped its neck while I watched. ‘Reanimate it,’ she commanded, ‘then you may keep it.’ Instead, I buried it behind Peg Powler’s hut in defiance of Mother’s instruction. I received regular beatings for months after due to my insolence.”
At that exact moment, the beast stood on its hind legs, slamming its two front paws against the door glass. It began barking and growling furiously at Belladonna, throwing spittle all over the glass in its fury.
“¡Ay, carajo! I’m sorry you had a crappy childhood, Crowley, but can we discuss it later? Right now, I’m more concerned about the huge black dog dragging me out of the car through the window and shaking me like a rag doll.”
“Belladonna…” I began, speaking up so she could hear me over the barks and snarls.
“Enough talk,” she snapped, cutting me off. “Do something, damn it!”
The hound kept its luminous crimson eyes on Belladonna all the while, having chosen her as the most immediate threat to its master. Its upper lip curled back in a snarl, and a low rumble emanated from its throat. Then it backed away from the window, instead choosing to pace back and forth while keeping her in its sights.
“Fine, if only to avoid any unnecessary damage to my vehicle.”
With a soft sigh, I released the passenger seat latch, pushing it forward so I could get out of the car. Personally, I had no fear of the beast. Barghests were creatures of darkness, and therefore likely as not to acquiesce to me—or rather, my shade.
I opened the door, stepping out nimbly despite the cramp in my lower back from being folded into such a small space for an extended period. The back seat was simply not designed for persons of my stature, and I resolved to purchase a sport sedan at my earliest convenience. Momentarily, the skittering of claws on gravel brought my attention back to more immediate concerns.
As the choin duibh rounded the front right corner of the car, it saw me and slid to a stop with a low, confused yelp. Meanwhile, I stood in a relaxed stance with my hands at my sides, staring off into the fields beyond the trailer with disinterest. Monitoring the hound in my peripheral vision, I remained calm and kept my breathing steady as I waited for it to determine that I was not a threat—but not breakfast, either.
Soon the beast inched forward, sniffing at me carefully for several long seconds. Then it nudged my hand with its warm, wet nose, giving a low whine before it sat on its haunches, staring at me with its muzzle nearly at eye level. Only then did I turn to look at it, murmuring my approval in soft, kind tones as I rubbed its jowls and scratched behind its ears.
On examining the choin duibh more closely, I noted that the hound had been mistreated, if not with outright abuse then through abject neglect. I could see several ribs along its sides, and its eyes and nostrils were crusted with diseased exudate. Additionally, its coat was filthy and riddled with fleas.
Inexcusable.
I refrained from expressing my displeasure for fear of being misread by the hound, snapping my fingers with my right hand. The choin duibh circled around my right side, where it promptly lay down with its muzzle resting on its crossed forepaws. No sooner than it did, the front door of the trailer flew open and slammed against the siding.
A thin, haggard female wearing too much makeup and too little clothing stormed down the rickety front steps. She was young for a fae, barely more than a century old. Yet her face was line
d, her skin was drawn in places and sagging in others, and her eyes had such dark circles beneath them they almost looked to have been blacked in a fistfight. She had a cigarette hanging from her lip, and an inch of ash hanging off that. Her black lycra boy shorts and peach sports bra were stained and torn.
“Cull, you good for nothing cur!” she shouted as she stomped across the yard. With each step, her relatively new-looking rabbit ear slippers flapped dejectedly, as if they’d given up the will to live prematurely in an effort to beat their master to the task. The woman shook her fist at the hound as she got closer, and the choin duibh let out another whine as it hid behind my leg.
“I’ll beat your ass good for laying down to this human, you stupid mutt,” the harridan continued.
In the background, two ragamuffin children poked their heads out from behind the doorframe of the trailer’s entrance. Each looked as dirty, disheveled, and malnourished as the dog. Belladonna began to exit the car to my left, and I held out a hand to stop her, without taking my eyes off Ms. McRath.
“Belladonna, allow me to handle this,” I said softly.
“Um, right. Just remember the kids are watching, okay?” She knew me well enough to know when I was truly, completely angered.
“See to them, will you?” I asked as their mother skidded to a halt roughly ten feet from where I stood. By the shocked look on her face and the fact that she nearly swallowed her cigarette, I assumed she’d finally recognized me.
“Yep, on it,” Belladonna replied.
I waited until she’d herded the children fully inside the trailer before I spoke. “You know who I am?”
“You shouldn’t be here, Hound. You got no right meddling in fae affairs no more, not since you went rogue.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
She sneered. “Maeve hears you’re harassing her subjects, she’s gonna give you what for, changeling.”
“Stop talking, you fretted, disease-ridden shrew, or I shall grow cross.” She wisely closed her mouth, staring at me in defiance for a moment before averting her eyes. I shook my head as I gave a soft, disapproving grunt. “Since you know who I am, then you know of what I am capable, yes? The lengths I will go to visit punishment on those who meet with my displeasure?”
The fae woman gulped and nodded. “I-I do.”
Taking a moment to allow my threat to fully sink in, I reached down and scratched the hound’s head. It responded in kind, leaning into my leg with a contented yet somewhat mournful sigh. Sensing a potential opportunity, Ms. McRath tensed, her jaw tightening as she curled her fingers into claws.
“I wouldn’t,” I said so softly it was almost a whisper. Stillness and quiet were so much more intimidating than agitation and bluster.
“You taking my kids? Their daddy’s a drunk, you know.”
“Yet somehow, I think he’s much more qualified to care for those children than you are, yes? Between the track marks on your arms, the horrendous state of the hound—never mind your offspring—and the deplorable condition of your home, I’d say you’ve done a rather poor job of proving your worthiness as a mother and caregiver.”
She hissed. “You got no right.”
I let the shade’s power seep into my eyes until they swirled with darkness. “This is all the right I need, crone. We’ll be taking the children with us, and the hound. I’ll inform Maeve of my actions, and you may appeal to her for a resolution.”
The methamphetamine-addicted floozy looked over her shoulder at the trailer. “I could tell her about you. Think she’d be so sweet on you if she knew what you used to be, the things you used to do for Fuamnach?”
I shrugged.
“Or I could tell the Dark Sorceress where you are and let her deal with you.”
“That would not go well for you, Ms. McRath. Take my advice. Keep your mouth shut, find a healer to help you kick your habit, and clean up your life. Perhaps then your queen will find it in her stone-cold heart to let you see your children again.”
By the time we’d transported the children to their father—with a stern warning to avoid drink while caring for his children—my shade had grown restless. I ignored it, maintaining an outward demeanor of calm as I waited for Belladonna outside O’Cleary’s neatly kept double-wide mobile home, located in a prime spot near the entrance of Rocko’s trailer park. Rocko was the leader of the local Fear Dearg clan, who styled themselves after Italian mobsters.
While Belladonna tarried, a rather rough-looking dwarf glared at me from across the street. His build and stature, combined with the maroon watch cap he wore, unmistakably marked him as one of Rocko’s men. He leaned against the rental office’s porch railing, arms crossed as he fingered the hilt of the Bowie knife sheathed at his left hip. Like most red caps, he was short, stout, bearded, and hirsute, with thick sausage fingers and python-like forearms that strained against the cuffs of the thermal shirt he’d pushed to his elbows.
Ever since he’d rescued an underboss’s son from a group of fae child traffickers, the druid had maintained a somewhat amicable relationship with the red caps. Personally, I didn’t trust them any further than I could throw one barehanded, and the Fear Dearg were rather heavy for their size. Since this clan kept their illegal activities restricted to vice crimes—drugs, gambling, and prostitution—I simply chose to steer clear of them.
I only killed supernaturals who hunted humans, after all.
That said, the shade had sensed my displeasure back at the McRath residence and had begged to feed on the woman. Currently, his voice was a needle constantly stabbing at the edges of my awareness, urging me to kill the dwarf. Pushing the wraith back into its cage, I slowed my breathing, focusing on maintaining control. Soon, Belladonna came bouncing down the front steps of O’Cleary’s home with a thick white envelope in hand.
As she approached, I held the passenger door of my Jaguar open. “I take it you received payment?”
She flashed me a smile that almost made me forget about my discomfort. “In cash. Should be enough for a down payment on an office. Nothing fancy, but all I really need is four walls and internet access.”
“You know, I could—”
“Yes, and we’ve already discussed this. If I’m ever going to get out from under Mama’s thumb, I need to prove that I can make it on my own. So, thanks, but no thanks.” She opened the envelope, thumbing through the contents. “Speaking of which, I have $1,500 here—your share.”
“Keep it,” I said. “It was your job, after all. Pay me back in some other manner.”
“Crowley…” she protested.
“Ah-ah, now it’s my turn to be stubborn. I don’t need to be paid for helping someone I hold in esteem.”
“‘Esteem,’” Belladonna said with an eye roll as she imitated my voice. “You’re so old-fashioned, como un viejo.”
“I might be an old man for all I know, as I have no idea how many years I spent in Underhill.” Which is why I need to get back to my previous task. “Shall we go? It appears the neighbors are getting restless.”
I nodded to the red cap across the street. Belladonna gave him a dismissive wave before hopping into the car. As she did, a now normal-sized black mastiff leaned over the seat to lick her face, eliciting a giggle from the huntress.
“Are you going to keep him?” she asked as she scratched his forehead.
I glanced at the rear end of my convertible, noting how low the car rode over the back two wheels. While the choin duibh was perfectly capable of altering its size and appearance, such changes did nothing to alter its mass. It was likely that I’d need to take my car into the shop for repairs after this trip—and then to the detailers for a thorough cleaning. A simple spell would take care of the fleas, I hoped.
“That depends on how well he gets along with Xanthe,” I replied as I got in the car. “But yes, that is my intention.”
“Well, if you ever get tired of him, let me know.” She rubbed the hound’s neck scruff. “Hey, maybe he could be our mascot.”
&
nbsp; “Perhaps. However, feeding Culloden might bankrupt our budding business.”
Belladonna tsked. “On second thought, let’s just keep him at your place.”
“Undoubtedly a wise decision,” I replied as Culloden seconded the motion with a loud woof.
8
After driving Belladonna to her motorcycle, I took Culloden back to the farm, where I bathed him, treated him for fleas and heartworms, and fed him a wild hog from my traps. Afterward, I introduced him to Xanthe. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until the two were playfully chasing each other around the farm.
Obviously, Xanthe had been lonely, and I chided myself for not realizing it earlier. As I watched them frolicking across my fields, I thought about the long-term implications of my fae upbringing, and the impact it might have on my future human relationships. If Belladonna and I rekindled our romance—and should the relationship become serious—surely she’d want a family at some point. But what kind of father would I be, if I couldn’t even keep a simple creature like Xanthe happy?
I decided to stop thinking about it, as I was becoming morose, and I had work to do. Perhaps if I could reconnect with my past, I might rediscover my humanity. There was always hope; at least, that’s what the druid would say.
First, however, I needed to find Monty.
After night fell, I drove to the location that had been revealed by my tracking spell, a secluded ranch-style home nestled on a few wooded acres in Driftwood. I drove past the house and drive, parking on the shoulder a quarter-mile down the road. Once I’d hidden my car with a bit of spellcraft, I cast a similar enchantment on myself, then I faded into the shadowy woods.
Vampires had notoriously keen senses, so I drew upon the shade’s magic to cloak myself in shadow and hide my scent. Once prepared, I got my bearings before floating high into the trees, gliding toward the house by pulling myself from branch to branch and trunk to trunk.
