This might have been inspired by a random 'what if' post on Tumblr.
At any rate. Have a short story about vampire mermaids.
WC: 1319
Summary: A little mermaid seeks adventure in a ship's graveyard. She probably should have been a bit more careful.
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Looking over her shoulder, she motioned to the two behind her to keep swimming. Many tales were told around the jellyfish pits about how the deeper, darker regions of the sea were dangerous, home only to witches and monsters. All the stories ended with a warning for all merkind to stay away from the shadowed rocky depths, where the graveyard of old ships lay.
But she was curious and daring, and wanted to see for herself. With friends by her side, three little mermaids swam to the border.
The edge of sanctified seas were marked by poles stuck into the ground, pulsing gently with bioluminescent light. Beyond the pale throbbing glow, the seabed flattened and fell, cracks spiraling out beyond vision while deep gashes hid the secrets of the sea.
But while the seabed beyond may have been barren, the bones of past lives rose against the light; wooden ribs of ships, some broken and some intact, masts and poles and broken bits lay scattered as if this land were a battlefield, a mark of how many humans had battled the sea...and lost. Yet sea-life persisted. Moss and lichen clung to the artificial bones, waving at the three like gaunt, spindly fingers curling as if inviting them further.
Her friends hesitated at the border, glancing at each other. Her own heart pounded against her ribs, screaming to turn and run.
But she was brave. She was adventurous. She was going to go further than her cousin, who swam out two nights before to the very edge of sight and came back with a piece of a ship to prove his bravery, and who wouldn’t stop bragging about it.
Puffing out her chest, gills flaring in front of her friends, she swam out into the graveyard of wood and steel and sea-growth. She fanned her fins bravely at the edge, spinning to make sure her friends could still see her. They gave an answering flash of fins, letting her know they could. She hadn’t gone as far as her cousin. Making an effort to swallow her fluttering heart, she turned and swam deeper into the graveyard.
The glow faded from behind her, and for a moment she felt trapped in utter darkness. Then...soft lights from above began to appear. She glanced up, watching silver threads of moonlight making its way from the surface all the way down to her. Patches of silver interspersed between whole pieces of ships and hollow shells, exposing treasures and things she had never seen before. She looked around, hoping to see what kind of fish lived out in these wastes, but saw none.
Swimming down to a random ship, she began searching for something small she could tear from the bones; it couldn’t be seaweed or moss, as that could have been taken from anywhere. It had to be something clearly marked as a human thing.
Something caught her attention further down...a song, trapped in the water. Someone was singing. Someone like her.
Her heart froze as she strained to listen, her mind buzzing with the possibilities of sea witches and horrible graveyard monsters. Everything she refused to believe. Yet...monsters couldn’t sing such a beautiful song, could they?
Her tail pumped the water, body moving swiftly through the ships as she listened. A distant part of her screamed to get away, wailed at the sudden scattering of skeletal figures under her fins. But her body wouldn’t stop. The song spurred her onwards, seeking out the singer. The music dismissed all worries as she got closer, the lilting melodies slowly beating away any fear from her mind.
And then she found it; the singer. Hidden away in the shadows of a broken deck sat another mermaid. Another mermaid!!
The singing faltered as the mermaid looked around, catching sight of her. She had a flash of instinct to hide, but found it quickly dismissed. Why would one of her kind want to hurt her? After all, she could sing so lovely.
Staring at her, the mermaid resumed the lovely melody, the music growing stronger and more intriguing. She couldn't help but drift closer and closer, yearning to look upon the face of the singer. The song promised joy and love, dismissed things like fear and hesitation and instinct. Told her not to look at the shadows looming around her, asked her to forget the sight of dried-up husks of other merfolk under her fins.
The beautiful voice.
A hand reached out, stopping just at the border of light and dark. The song changed, the mermaid weaving a story through the notes about how an old sea witch cursed her to remain here in isolation. How all she needed was the gentle touch of a stranger, and she would be set free.
She stared at the hand as the cursed mermaid’s song wrapped around her. Something drew her in, some force from the hand alone. She hadn't made up her mind. Something still snagged her attention, nagged at the back of her mind. Something was wrong...but her body moved forward, this time without permission or guidance.
Her skin crawled as she left the light. The water was so cold...no. It wasn't the water. The hand was now on her arm, a lifeless chill crawling up her scales and skin into her heart as the cursed mermaid pulled her closer.
The singing was loud, now. So loud, it washed away the last vestiges of her hesitation and will. Her body relaxed, sunk into the lilting chorus of the music. She didn’t feel any pain as sharp, pointed teeth pierced her body, didn’t flinch as the cursed mermaid began to feed. She was aware of nothing but the sweet music, carrying her away into oblivion. Then she was aware of nothing at all.
Coming upon her traps, the sea witch paused. The mast she had previously used to trap a mermaid was now empty, the magic cuff used to keep her here broken and drifting. A body floated nearby, hidden among the wreckage of human ships and sea vegetation. Moss was wrapped around the dead mermaid, holding her down in an act of burial amongst the graveyard.
The witch sighed. The mermaid previously trapped here was one of the ancient ones, back in the days when they had the ability to sing others to their deaths via sucking the bodies dry. The humans managed to confuse the legends, as humans do, resulting in names like ‘vampire’ and ‘siren’. If only they knew what horrors lurked in the deeps.
And now that horror was free.
Holding her seaweed belt down against her body, she swam over to the dead mermaid and looked her over. Two prick-marks could be found against the small body, a sure sign she had been fed on.
The witch wasn’t powerful enough to kill the ancient one, but had managed to use her arts to trap her here, and so long as the ancient one was left to starve, she wouldn’t have been able to break free. Clearly, one little mermaid had slipped through and given the keys of escape to a monster as old as the waters.
Back in the old days, the witch would have a clan to call upon. But most of her family was dead, slain by whalers or sea monsters or merfolk scared by false stories. She was the last of her kind, and it was her duty to finish what her family started.
Yanking free a small sharktooth knife, the witch began to enchant it as her mind raced. She must find the ancient one before it had time to spread itself, before it had time to give others its dark gift. The nearby territory was in danger. She had to act fast.
First, she had to make sure the newest kill wouldn't turn into that which killed her. And then...the hunt was on.
Pretty sure this was in response to a Tumblr prompt, but I have no idea where it went or who it was by.
At any rate. Have a short story about a house dragon. :D
WC: 1038
Summary: Best house security system ever. Even if it does scratch up the curtains once in a while.
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“Hey, hey!” She frowned at me, motioning to my wings and claws tangling her sheets. “I told you you’re not allowed on the furniture. Get down. You have your own bed and very nice perch.”
I huffed at her, smoke curling around my face, but decided to listen. It wasn’t like her bed was that interesting anyway.
My human was never one to understand that we dragons owned all the ‘furniture’ they so highly decorated, but it was of little matter. I liked this human. It’s why I decided to live with her all those years ago, and pretended to listen to her...but only when it suited me.
Grabbing her keys, she waved at me from the door as I slipped up my window perch, reciting her daily schedule to me as if I couldn’t remember. She left without me, and I watched with a sulking face at the window until she disappeared down the street.
It’s not that I couldn’t leave the house, mind you. I just enjoyed watching her struggle to resist coming back in and giving me one last hug. Some days the sulking face worked, some days it didn’t.
I stretched and minded how much flames came out when I yawned; she would get upset if I set another pair of curtains on fire. She constantly told me she was looking into fire-proof blinds so I’d stop being a hazard. She constantly forgot to follow through, as well.
Again, I didn’t mind. I was her companion because I chose it, and I chose her because I liked her. She was soft and gentle, accommodating but firm: no scratching up the floors with my claws, no stealing her jewelry, no biting her (but biting strangers in the house was okay -- as long as I quit once she deemed them safe). In return, she bought me the best cuts from the butcher, provided a den all of my own inside her house, and pretended not to notice when I took trinkets from other humans. All in all, sharing this den was of a mutual benefit; I didn’t have to defend my hoard from other dragons, and she got a house-sitter with teeth.
Speaking of which.
My nap was interrupted when I heard something at the back door. A quick stretch of the wings brought me to my perch in the back, where I could watch from the ceiling. The door jiggled a few times before the door shuddered and broke; two men made their way inside, bodies dressed all in black.
A smile curled around my long snout, tiny puffs of smoke wisping through the air. This was my favorite part of the job.
Slithering back into my hidey-holes, I followed them closely. They split up, one to cover the front rooms and one to cover the back rooms. I decided to take the one making his way to the living room first.
Letting my tail trail down to the wall, I casually flicked something plastic down to the ground. He spun at the noise, gun ready and waiting. Of course, he saw nothing, and I gave him long enough to tell himself so before going back. Slipping along the wall, I knocked off another un-breakable wall doodad, causing him to swing around again.
He approached as slowly as he could, both hands on the gun. He spotted the knocked-down trinkets and bent to investigate. Digging my claws into the wall, I slowly crawled upside down until my eyes would be near his, working my smoke up into a small cloud.
He stood, scratching his head. I reached out and licked the back of his neck with a slime-filled tounge. He jerked and spun. His eyes grew wide. I think his heart may have stopped, but his lungs didn’t.
Letting out a wailing scream, he shouted for the other guy while leveling his gun at me.
Wow. Brave.
He fired a few wild shots that all missed me. My tounge lashed out, snatching his little piece of metal and landing it right in my mouth. I bit down twice and swallowed, burping up an extra-hot flame at his face. It singed his nose and eyebrows. Smacking the flames from his face, he turned and fled.
I heard a startled shout from behind, bullets zinging around me. I spun my neck, still upside-down, and breathed a billowing cloud of smoke at him. While he was busy screaming and flailing and swearing, I slid back up the wall and disappeared.
A few more shots went off before he walked out of my cloud to find me ‘gone. Swearing about demons and ghosts, the second guy began to flee.
Cackling, I landed with a thud on the ground and chased after him, snapping my jaws together and breathing points of fire at his behind until he was out of my domain. Chuckling, I swung the door shut with my tail and lumbered off to check the rooms. Nothing was touched, the only suggestion of their presence being a small backpack in the center of the room. I tossed it on her bed and went back to my perch; the sun was exceptionally nice near the front rooms this time of day.
She came home after a five-hour nap and plopped on the couch, exhausted. I watched her for a moment, the TV coming on as her eyes slid over her dwelling. They caught sight of the holes in the wall, both from my claws and the far-flung bullets, a tiny bit of scorch left on the wall by accident. She tossed a suspicious glance over at me, which I immediately pretended to ignore.
She went to check the rest of the house, groaning as she did, then came back and dug something out of the freezer. I caught the scent of frozen meat and looked up, the human dangling a couple of fat steaks in my direction.
I chomped on my snack, likely a reward for my good service, while she dug the spackle out of a back room and got to work.
She didn’t mind. I knew it. After all, a few holes and scorch marks are par for the course when you live with a dragon.
This was more of a squeezing-the-last-bit-of-brain-juice-into-a-jar kind of moment. I guess this is more of a flash fiction or a microstory than a short story aside. Aside from the fact that it is, in fact, very short. And probably not told very well.
Summary: Trevor's a pretty normal guy that's decided to live a crunchy lifestyle; home garden, vegetarian, makes his own meals, a little stall at the local outdoor market, a book that he's working on and a complimentary blog. Oh. And he's a vampire.
Sunlight. It streamed over the land and covered the garden, stretching its fingers over the small cabin-like house in the middle of the suburbs. The golden fingers slipped through the closed shutters, over the couch, and began flicking at my nose. I woke up with a thunderous sneeze that catapulted me to the floor, and found myself struggling with an oddly-confining jacket under the redwood table. After a moment of sleep-deprived panic, I won the confrontation and peeked around at the clock pressed against the wall.
Shoot. It was a bit past feeding time.
I wormed my way to a standing position, left the villainous outerwear to sulk on the floor until tomorrow morning, and made my way out to the garden.
The green plants celebrated the sun, and I joined them for a moment. The sun was warm on my skin as I stood, breathing in the morning air before going about my day. The bell peppers were finally ready, the tomatoes juicy red, and the ears of corn seemed to wave like volunteers for harvest. Gathering them into small bundles, I brought them into the kitchen to rest and went out for a second round. Going straight to the back of my garden, I took a moment to talk to my beanstalks, admired them for their growth and thanked them for their contribution. Then I knelt and began to dig them up by the roots.
Escorting the bundles back into my kitchen -- and trying to ignore the giant dirty boot prints smearing dark mud across the linoleum tile -- I set to stripping the roots from each beanstalk, cleaning all my products, and getting them ready for both farmer’s markets I was to attend later in the day. Hunger began to set in as I worked, so I grabbed a couple of spare roots I kept in the freezer and began to chow down.
Ugh, the taste wasn’t exactly what I wanted. Metallic yet smooth, with a tiny bit of sweetness as an aftertaste. I needed something to drown it with. Another trip to the fridge produced a large cup full of green chalky liquid, and I downed it in just a few gulps. Sweet, sweet chlorophyll. The smooth taste was welcome after the metallic hemoglobin, and it went down easily thanks to the coconut water mixed in. The pairing of chlorophyll and coconut water was a great substitute for blood.
Oh, right. I’ve been living with it so long, I often forget not everyone knows about us.
Hi. The name’s Trevor. I’m a chlorophyre which, at its core, is a ‘vampire’ that lives on chlorophyll instead of hemoglobin. I used to be a vampire, but ever since I found out there were other, healthier ways of living, I decided to take a more natural approach to life.
I finished cleaning the greens, packaged them in little baskets, and stacked them in brown paper bags which then made it into my Hybrid car. I took the few veggies and beans to my stall out at the local farmers market and set up shop.
The humans were nice, as usual. A good number of lookie-loos, a handful of loyal buyers, and I even managed to convince one or two new faces to buy a basket of beans. It was a long day, made even longer with the knowledge I had committed to this booth for the next two days as well. I may have technically been a member of the ‘un-dead’ but that didn’t mean I enjoyed derelict houses or used familiars to do my work for me. The weekends at the farmer’s market helped pay my bills.
When time was up, I began cleaning my booth and storing things away while my neighbors did the same. We swapped stories about harvesting, soil prep, and the latest news on governmental damage in relation to agriculture and the environment. We traded farewells, knowing we’d see each other the next morning, packed the last of our unsold wares into our cars and drove off.
I made sure my veggies were safely stored away at home before going about my day; buying new seeds, working home-made compost into my soil, looking up the latest in natural pesticides. I couldn’t take too long, as I only had a few hours between markets. My second booth was scheduled to be set up right after sundown, and by the time I finished my daily chores, the sun was starting to drop below the horizon. I had to hurry.
I gathered up all the leaves and stalks of my plants and worked them, getting out all the chlorophyll I could manage and dividing the results between green-tinted eight ounce glass bottles. Then I removed the fresh root clusters from the fridge and bundled them, the fraying hemp rope scratching at my fingers. The cabinets above the sink held generous supplies of coconut water, which I removed and mixed with half of the chlorophyll bottles. Gotta create a good example of each product, after all.
The last step was to make sure all my pamphlets were in order, each one printed on eco-friendly paper with biodegradable ink. They contained information regarding a plant-based alternative to blood, and explained it in more detail than I could manage in the short time I was at my booth. It was definitely better than it sounded, but most vampires wouldn’t understand why green was better if it wasn’t explained properly. I had my work cut out for me, to be sure, but I deeply believed in chlorophyrism and wanted to get the word out to as many as I could.
Packing up my nightly wares, I got back in my Hybrid and took off for the Night-Market, a farmer’s market for nocturnal-based creatures. Parking in my regular spot, I gathered my things and began down the secret forest trail leading to the bridge where the market was held. Apparently, even under the cover of darkness, our gatherings must be veiled in secrecy and subterfuge.
I set up shop like normal, putting out my pamphlets and products and ignoring the jokes at my expense. I’d been doing this long enough to know responding in kind got me nowhere. The other vendors knew my product and knew where I stood on the matter, and so long as they didn’t upturn my booth or break my stuff, I wouldn’t burn their coffins in the middle of the day.
Instead of sinking to their level, I waved to the werewolf across the bridge selling distilled Wolfsbane pills. Apparently she had managed to figure out a formula able to reverse the werewolf curse for a limited time. I’d never seen it work in person, but she had plenty of regulars. The she-wolf must have been doing something right.
The market opened. Night-creatures began to pour in from all sides. Blood-suckers bought packets from the vampire vendors. The she-wolf’s regulars padded in, panting for her antidote. There were bottled nightmares, brain samples, animal parts, and a couple of the booths even sold ‘deals’. I was never quite sure what ‘deals’ were sold, but I didn’t try to find out.
A couple of curious vampires stopped by my booth. “What’s up with this?” one of them asked while sucking on a sample packet. “Is this a joke?”
The other one leaned in and whispered, “Vampire-hippie. Walk away slowly.”
“It’s nothing like that,” I said with a forced smile, sliding one of the pamphlets across to them. “Vampirism has its place in the world, I guess, but have you ever wondered if there was a better way?”
One of them looked like she couldn’t care less, but the other peered at the pamphlet and seemed to be listening.
“I mean, sure: drinking the blood of others has sustained us for a good long while. I’m not saying it hasn’t. But the world was...different back then. Less chemicals in the blood, less preservatives in the food.” I gestured towards the shrinking blood sample, which was now leaking in the corner. “Do you know how much more monoxide is in human blood these days thanks to burning gasoline and oil, as opposed to 100 years ago?”
The packet-drinker shrugged. “Nope. But if that’s true, why not just drink animal blood?”
“They’re inhaling the same air, for one thing,” I stated. “But if we all switched to drinking animals, do you know how badly that would impact the environment? It would take years to breed enough animals for them to be a sustainable alternative for all of our kind...not to mention there’d be competition from all sides.” In answer to the sarcastically-quirked eyebrow, I gestured around to a few of the other booths. “Vampires aren’t the only ones that feed on animals.”
The one reading the pamphlet finally spoke up. “So how is this any different?” she asked. “What’s the catch?”
“Ah, that’s the best thing,” I said, holding up a small glass bottle. “There is no catch. Drinking from plants instead of people is a much more sustainable alternative; you can grow your own food, so you don’t have to worry about things like cameras and cell phones tracking your movements. There’s more than enough soil to use, either out in a garden or in a potted plant, and you don’t have to worry about soil erosion so long as you rotate and feed the plants properly. And best of all, you know exactly what’s going into your food: because you’re putting it there.” I gestured to the ever-shrinking blood packet. “Do you have any idea what kind of life your food was living? How much blood-poisoning might have happened?” I looked back to the other one. “Using plants, you don’t ever have to worry about it again.”
The two glanced at each other. The blood-sucker shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not like I’d catch any of their diseases. Plus, this sounds like a lot more work.”
But the other one had picked up a bottle and was looking it over. “It’s not any more work than hunting down human prey in this digital age,” I said. “Plus, the switch is easier than ever with our root bundles.”
The blood-sucker was looking away, her packet nearly empty. She was clearly debating if she wanted to go back to the vendor a few booths down and purchase a couple packs for the fridge. But the other one looked up at me. “Root bundles?”
I nodded. “Did you know that the legume plant has nodules that produce the exact same substance as blood?” She peered at the bundle of roots, fingering one of the small gnarled ends. I could see she was interested, but unsure what her companion would say. I nudged her a little more and told her that the movement I was a part of had a small online presence. If she wanted to give me her general whereabouts or territory, I could have a representative stop by and give her more information. She shrugged and wasn’t sure, so I suggested she take my card and come back the next night to take another look at the nodules. I offered her a small sample root bundle as compensation for her listening ear, and as a little something to snack on when she had the time.
She seemed grateful for the offer and accepted, slipping the small bundle into her coat along with my card before spinning around to join her companion. They loudly mocked the chlorophyre movement as they left, and I later spied the two buying a generous supply of packets from the vampire two booths down.
I didn’t mind. I may not have gotten a chance to tell them about the side-effects, how drinking chlorophyll was like drinking a natural sunscreen, how it converted sunlight into energy like the plants, but that was something I saved for customers showing a genuine interest. Vampires generally don’t believe that part of the deal, and I can’t blame them. The first chlorophyre I saw was met with equal cynicism, and I didn’t believe the movement until I tried it for myself. Anyway, it isn’t easy to make the switch from ‘acceptable’ to healthy, especially when clan pressure is involved. Said pressure is one of the reasons I now lived on my own.
A few more vampires came over during the night. A few more mocked my products openly or over their shoulders. Another couple passed by and stopped, familiar faces that wanted to purchase another bundle and learn more about growing their own. We talked while I gathered their order, and I found out that they prowled an alley a couple streets down from where I lived. With a smile, I offered them to stay at my place for a bit. They could learn more about growing their own food, and my house was definitely safer than the streets.
Soon the sun was on its way up, and all the booths were dismantled. I packed up what I had left and headed to my Hybrid, wondering if that couple had made their way to my house yet. I wondered if the two vampiresses from earlier in the night would come back. I loved talking to an open mind, something startling hard to find in the underworld. I got behind the wheel and drove, wondering once again what the she-wolf’s Wolfbane pills actually did for werewolves, or why they’d take an antidote in the first place.
I got back home and brought everything inside. I grabbed from my personal stash of chlorophyll, drinking it down as I laid out on the couch and enjoyed the slight tinge of rum added to the mix. It may not have had the same effect on me as it once did, but the flavor was still a nice addition. I stared at the ceiling, the full moon making silver tracks through the darkness, and contemplated the night. There was still some gardening I could do, but there was also online marketing to work on, a seminar on Essential Oils to watch, and more information to gather for the book I was planning on self-publishing later this year. One of the added benefits to being a healthy chlorophyre meant working in the day and the night, as my body no longer required sleep to function. I stared at the ceiling, sipped my drink, and wondered which of my projects to work on next.
I may or may not have decided that I wanted to write a story where Sonic the Hedgehog is a 50s Noir PI and translated as many of the gang as I could/wanted. Also may or may not have been revisiting my love for hard-boiled black-and-white detective stories recently. 😂
Water splashed against my new red running shoes, mud turning the white stripe into a dark stain as I ran. I glanced up to see the moon through the trees, remnants of a past storm causing the stars to sparkle in the droplets against the leaves. The wind roared in my ears, hammered my overcoat, my hands and arms dragged behind my body as I sped through the forest towards the nearby town.
I sped by a green sign, almost all the words rubbed off by years of storms. The only thing left on the old decrepit sign was the word ‘valle’, and no one could remember what came before or after the word. So, ever since I’d been here, this little town had only been known as The Valle.
The space between the forest and the town was peppered with industrial buildings, half of them rusted from disuse. We had some inventor-types and investor-types move in over the recent years -- who knows where they came from -- and they all took up residence in the industrial zone or the newly-build casinos. The lights on one side flashed through the billowing smoke from the other as I ran past, mixing to create a veil of neon-lit smoke that filled the street.
Once I reached the uneven cobblestone street on the other side of developments I had to slow down, weaving between the few people still out and about at this hour. Among the thin crowd I spotted a gal with a shock of pink hair and turned down a side-street just as she spun, narrowly avoiding her sharp eyes. It’s not that I didn’t like her. She could just be a little much for me some days. I jogged my way through the still-wet back streets to a squatty 3-story building set back among the line of dirty brick-row houses that rose up on either side; my home.
From here, it looked more like a grubby hole in the forest than an office building, but home was home.
Racing up the steps to the second floor, I came up short to find someone standing directly across from my door. He stayed in the shadows, barely moving at my approach, but I knew his silhouette instantly; it was the exact same as mine.
Lanky limbs surrounded a short torso, the guy’s hands always covered in gloves and a hat to cover his head completed the enigmatic ensemble. He only ever removed said hat in front of me, and that was only because I snatched it from his head when we first met. I was never sure why he felt the need to keep his face a secret. It’s not like he was a secret agent or anything.
True to form, he pulled off his hat to reveal a head of black spiked hair, the tips stained a dark dirty red. Red eyes glared at me from a severely angled face as he stared me down over a pointed nose. “Hedge,” he greeted me, voice low and gritty. “Out for a run again?”
I crossed my arms and met his stare with a cocked smile. “Observant as ever, my weird shadow-friend.”
His frown deepened. “I told you not to call me that.”
“Shadow?”
“Friend.”
“Well, when you’re not attacking me outright you don’t act like an enemy.” I smiled as I crossed to the door, hands digging around in my pockets for a pair of keys. “What can I do for you?”
“There’s a case waiting for you behind that door,” he stated, arms crossed. “Don’t take it.”
I paused, glancing at the door. Frosted glass covered half the wood, with big blocky letters spelling out “S. T. Hedge” across the top, and “Private Eye” across the bottom. Just beyond I could see the impression of someone waiting, a slim feminine figure shifting uncomfortably as she looked around. I looked back, answer in my cheeks, but my shadow-friend was gone. Disappeared into the night.
Hm. Maybe he was a secret agent.
I shrugged. Oh well.
I pushed the door open to find a pretty figure standing in the center of my office, hands clasped together tightly as she spun to face me. Two long blonde braids swung around her shoulders, large eyes brimming with tears as she raced toward me.
“Oh Mr. Hedge!” she cried, “I’ve lost them! I’ve lost them!”
I gave her a smile and patted her hands, something meant to comfort her while also peeling her hands off my shoulders. “Calm down, sweetheart. Take a deep breath, and tell me the story.”
Swallowing a couple mouthfuls of air, she took a step back and started again.
Miss C. Abbit spun me a story of how she’s got a group of children she takes care of on her own dime. She went to check on them this morning and found all of them missing, then ran around town for the rest of the day asking everyone who would glance her direction if they’ve seen the kids. Eventually someone gave her my number and she called, but no one answered. So she came down and had been waiting in the office.
Pulling out a small notepad, I sketched out my normal fee and asked for a description. Giving me a sad smile as she began to play with the orange ribbons in her hair, she described the kids as short with large heads on top of little round bodies. I hadn’t ever seen kids like she mentioned, but it wasn’t my job to judge her descriptive abilities.
She thanked me with a little bow and hurried away, her orange dress still bright in the shadows of the hallway. “‘Don’t take it’,” I muttered my shadow’s last words and dismissed them with a wave of the hand. I had a job to do and I was gonna do it.
Tossing the pad down, it landed unevenly among the mess. I eyed my desk with a sideways frown, rifling through the odds and ends covering the top and moving a handful of gold rings hiding among broken mechanical parts. Hm. Looks like someone thought this was his desk. Again.
Digging out the phone from one side, I pulled the receiver and dialed, tapping a foot as the line rung. Once. Twice. Three times before a young-ish voice hurriedly answered, “Twin Tails Power Shop, what’s your need?”
“A good assistant would be nice. Know anyone?”
A pause. “Sorry Hedge, I got carried away with a new design and--”
“I know, I know, it’ll change the world.” I cut him off with a sigh. “Hey Miles, think you can tear yourself away from your garage long enough to do your actual job?”
My sarcasm flew over his head as he happily quipped, “sure Hedge. What’cha need?”
“Another pair of legs; we’ve got some kids to hunt down.”
---------------------------------
We met outside a small dark coffee shop halfway between the office and his garage. The kid came running up, hunched under a coat to stave off the drizzling rain. He was shorter than me by a head, his somewhat round face smudged with oil and grease while smoke left a black stain on his otherwise bright-orange hair.
“Sorry Hedge,” he apologized again. “The new engine I came up with still needs a bit of work.”
I dismissed it with a shrug -- he was always coming up with new ways to spruce up almost anything mechanical -- and began telling him the details of the case. Miles listened intently while wiping his hands and face clean with a seemingly endless supply of wipes. We tossed around ideas of how to find the kids, finally settling on the one where I’d investigate where the kids last were while Miles investigated the people around the place. We set off together, and I made sure to keep it at a slow jog so he could keep up.
We trotted our way to an old apartment building leaning over a fragile shack on the edge of town, a tattered sign at the top sloppily identifying it as ‘Station Square Suites’. An old fountain sputtered at the edge of the property surrounded by weeds and thick bushes. Miles stared up and groaned, knowing he’d be dealing with drunks and people angry about being woken up. He reluctantly jogged his way to the first-story apartments while I approached the shack.
The door squealed on its hinges as I poked it open, the dim light from the surrounding streetlamps bathing the interior in a yellow glow. A mix of mattresses and sleeping bags were scattered across the floor, interspersed with threadbare rugs and discarded jackets. A dirty handprint there, a crumpled bit of bandage in that corner, small baskets piled to one side and each with an orange bow decorating the top and sides. So, miss Abbit wasn’t lying about taking care of them, then.
Sweeping the area for clues revealed a hole in the door and a broken lock lying on the floor haloed by splinters. Spatters of a black liquid marked the floor and rug, a trail leading to the window where a foot-sized mark was left at the edge of a broken window, where bits of glass and rotted wood had fallen away from the opening.
As I bent to examine the glass, something winked at me under the rug. Tossing it back revealed a small green stone, a tiny diamond only as big as my finger. I held up to what light I had, the green surface reflecting oddly in the light. I pocketed it for later and turned back to the black liquid; A quick run of the fingers to the nose told me it stunk up a storm, though it wasn’t blood by any means.
In fact...It almost smelled like…
A shadow from the doorway blocked my light. Before I could turn I heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking, suspicion creeping along my neck that the barrel was pointed at my head.
“Hands where I can see them.” I complied. “Stand up.” My knees popped as I stood. “Turn around.” I did slowly, coming face to face with a pair of angry blue eyes set into a wide face, the tips of his red hair peeking from under a white wrap wound tightly over his forehead. Similar wraps clung to his hands, the prized boxer’s hands still stained with blood from all the bare-fisted fights he had won. He blinked in surprise. “Hedge?”
I smiled. “Hiya ‘Knuckles’. Done boxing for the night?”
He frowned with a snort. “The Island closes at midnight, you know that. What are you doing here?”
“Not wasting time betting on your fights,” I answered, hands dropping into my pockets. “You?”
“Something was stolen from me. I got wind it might be here.”
A rattle in the corner drew both of our attention, Knuckles’ gun snapping to the sound. We waited for half a breath, the fighter approaching the corner first. A bundle of blankets shuffled at his approach, a powerful sneeze rocking the pile from under at least three layers down. With a quick pull, Knuckles jerked the blankets back and shouted, “Where are my gems!?”
His suspect wasn’t going to be much use; his rash action unveiled a child, matching the description Miss Abbit gave me, cowering with arms over his head. “Don’t hurt me!” he squealed, “Don’t take me away!”
I clamped a hand over Knuckle’s wrist, yanked his aim away from the kid. “Easy. I don’t think this is what you think it is.”
“How can you be sure?!” he snapped, stealing a glance at the kid.
“First, he’s just a kid. A kid I’ve been hired to find. And second, there’s this.” I held up a hand, showing Knuckles the small green stone. “Found this over by the window, close to an oil spot...and I doubt the kid is leaking oil.”
Knuckles swiped at my find, but he was too slow. The gem was back in my pocket and I was two steps out of his reach.
“Don’t fight me on this, Hedge,” he warned. “That gem belongs to a private collection of mine; someone stole a handful of those from me, and I’m gonna get them back one way or another.”
I shrugged. “And you will...after I figure out what it means for my job.”
We stared each other down before Knuckles holstered the gun and turned away with a grunt. “So I’m here for nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I answered, looking back at the kid. “Help me figure this out and you can get it sooner.”
“Give me the shard as a downpayment and you got a deal.”
I snorted and shot him a glare, but took the tiny stone out and flicked it towards him. He snatched it out of the air with a grunt, peering closely at it while I bent down to get eye-level with the kid. “Don’t worry,” I said, trying to reassure him. “Miss Abbit sent me to find you.”
Her name brought an immediate turnaround. He clung to me and cried, trying desperately to talk and failing to get the words past the lump in his throat. Knuckles tried a few more times to get a story out of him, but it didn’t work any better than the first time.
A knock on the door revealed Miles standing there with a notepad and a confused look on his face. He summed up his adventures in the apartment building with short sentences, to which I suggested he elaborate on later. After we take the kid back to Miss Abbit.
I had the distinct feeling that putting all our pieces together would produce a better picture to all our puzzles.
---------------------------------
I crossed my arms as I leaned back against the wall in thought. We took the kid back to Miss Abbit’s for safe keeping; one down and too many to go. After giving a groggy and disoriented account about a small metal man that kidnapped the rest of his friends, the child had been given food, water, and a secure place to sleep. Meanwhile Knuckles and Miles were talking around each other like water down a stifled drain, reciting facts and situations they had gone over a hundred times.
The breakdown was this; Knuckles, while primarily a boxer, also specialized in collecting rare and unique rocks. Seems he could never have enough of them and kept them locked up in the arena he owned known as ‘The Island’. A few nights ago someone managed to swipe his collection, leaving only a handful behind. His own hunt led him to think the thieves might be holding up in the shack that turned out to be where the kids were holding up.
Miles’ irritated apartment-dwellers had spun him a collective story about a fire-breathing car taking the kids away in a sack. I wasn’t buying the car story, but I had seen and heard enough things on the street that I couldn’t rule out some sort of mechanized monster maliciously snatching the minors last midnight. And if I was right, there was only one place that could manufacture said monsters and be willing to kidnap kids.
I was still fuzzy on the ‘why’ though.
Shrugging it off, I cut off the useless conversation and told them my theory. The three of them fell silent, the silence continuing past the point of my musings. I finished and Knuckles drew the same conclusion I had, slapping fist against an open hand.
“Nick Ivo,” he growled. “It’s got to be.”
“But...his company makes engines and machines,” Miles said. “Why would he…?”
I shook my head, glancing out the window. “I don’t know. But I think asking him might do the trick.”
“I’m coming,” Knuckles said, standing up and slamming his fists together. “He’s not gonna get away with this.”
I shrugged. Three against one evens the odds.
---------------------------------
The threat of the sun cracked along the horizon, a pale pink staining the dark of the sky as we approached a gritty tower of a building. Smoke bellowed from three chimneys at the top, the black belched cloud joined by an oversized exhaust pipe on the side. The name “Julian and Sons” was spelled out in neon lights, flickering over the doorway like a boast.
Knuckles jabbed at the door, the wood flinging open and slamming against the wall. I glanced at the inside of the doors as we made our way inside; the doors had been left unlocked. I drew my gun and motioned for Miles to keep behind me.
The inside lobby was a mess. Our feet kicked scattered nuts and bolts across a cold metal floor, pipes along the walls spewing smoke and steam in our faces. This place looked like it had been abandoned for years before being disturbed, mechanical tracks cutting through the dust and debris on the floor accompanied by a set of huge bootprints.
“So, you’ve made your way here, Hedge!” A gritty voice boomed over hidden loudspeakers, accompanied by a hearty laugh. “I wondered when you’d make your way into my trap!!”
“What have you done with the kids, Nick!?” I called up, looking around. Knuckles’ fists went up as we clustered together, moving as a group. “Hand them over and I’ll leave without tearing the place apart.”
He laughed. “You won’t get the chance!!”
The sound of gears grating echoed around the lobby, a pair of nearby iron doors opening with a slow groan. The opening filled with hot steam, surrounding the silhouette of a giant of a machine. With a rumble the giant rolled its way into the room, domed head nearly scraping the ceiling and treads large enough to squash us if we weren’t fast enough.
“Nice robot, Nick,” I called out, keeping my gun low and ready. The thing lurched forward, raising a drill-hand twice my size and aiming it at me. I motioned over my shoulder for Miles to move around as I ducked away, the drill smashing into where I had just been. I raised my head in enough time to spot Miles sliding into the shadows and mouthed the words ‘shut-off switch’. He nodded and disappeared. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it.”
“Of course you haven’t!” he boasted, the machine whirring in time with his voice, flexing four arms with various sharp attachments for hands. “This is a creature of my own invention; the machines are the way of the future, don’t you see!?”
Another blow slammed into the ground nearby, a buzz saw activating and racing towards me. I jumped back in time to see my reflection among the blades. “I see you’ve got a hobby,” I answered, nodding for Knuckles to head left. “But why steal Knuckles’ rocks and a handful of kids?”
“I needed a workforce!” he bellowed, “And a power source.”
I hesitated, looking up at the looming giant. “The kids built this thing overnight!?”
“Of course not, you fool! But I have several more of this same model, and I need all the hands I can get to help me build. Those kids weren’t doing anything useful, so I decided to give them a job. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got other things to attend to. Have fun!”
Two more hidden drill-hands began to whirr, the arms jerking to life and swinging around. The mechanic voice stated, “Target Locked. Initiating drill sequence.”
“Let’s go!!” I screamed, dodging a strong strike. The drill broke through the floor this time, concrete bits flying into the air as I jumped onto the arm, running up the links and landing a kick square against the metal dome. It let out a shudder and flung its arm, forcing me to jump down to the floor and steady myself.
“Oh Hedge, you don’t know how much this little town needs my inventions,” his voice continued to taunt as I dodged strikes left and right. Knuckles came around the other side, the robot swinging a bladed pincher hand at him, the glow deflected with a solid punch to the wrist-like connection. “My machines will become the next greatest thing, able to handle any kind of construction single-handed! I’ll be able to find oil in half the time, build or break down any building I want with less manpower. I’ll be rich!!”
An arm wound back and struck hard, one of its blades biting deep into the floor. It whined to pull back, but it was stuck. The robot jerked, and I took the opportunity to dash up the arm again, darting right to the top this time. A small glass opening allowed me to see inside the head, where one of Knuckles’ gems rested inside a tangle of wires glowing green and red. Shoving my gun against the glass, I pulled the trigger twice.
The robot jerked and shuddered, winding down with a goran. The gears screamed, oil spraying from the joints. I thought it was over and reached down for the gem when it was yanked down into the domed head, the thing popping up and flinging me into the air. The torso turned, smoke starting to spray from its arms as it wound up for another strike. Before it got it’s chance, Knuckles appeared, winding up with a scream and landed a crippling blow against its torso. The metal bent with a deafening crunch, a panel completely twisting away from its welded section.
Nick howled over the intercom, shouting demands at his monstrosity as Knuckles began to climb the sides. I shouted about the gem at the top, distracting the thing with a few more pops of my gun. It swung wildly, steam coming from the top of its head as it began to overload. Reaching the top with a grunt, Knuckles reared back and pummeled the metal until he made a big enough hole for his hands. The giant nearly shook him off, but with a quick jerk of his shoulder the machine died with a shudder and squeal. He pulled his hand out, revealing the gem he managed to free.
“No!!!” Ivo screamed. “How could you-- Wait, what are--!”
I heard Miles’ voice over the intercom yell “Freeze! We’ve got you, Nick! Come quietly, or...wait, what’s that!?”
There was a short pop and boom, static spreading over the speakers. My heart stopped for a moment, restarting once Miles’ voice came over the speaker. “Sorry Hedge,” he said, voice stilted with coughs and hacks. “He set off some kind of smoke bomb. He...He got away.”
“That’s alright,” I called up, looking at the defeated machine. Oil was starting to pool on the floor. “You got the kids?”
“Yeah, I found them and opened the back door. I told them to get to Miss Abbit’s and stay there until we get them. I also found most of Knuckles’ gems, though I think some of them are already a part of Nick’s robots. You should see the factory back here, Hedge. It’s wild.”
“That’s fine,” Knuckles called up, already making his way past the iron doors. “I’ll find them. You guys make sure the kids are safe and sound with Miss Abbit. Don’t worry about the aftermath, Hedge. I’ll take care of it. Nick won’t get away with this.”
I nodded and headed out the doors, calling out my plan to Miles. We made an agreement that I’d start to Miss Abbit’s and he’d take a minute to study the machines. He’d meet me there after he was done. I waved a hand and left, not surprised in the least. After all, Miles was a bit of a tech junkie. If I had it I would’ve bet a couple gold rings on one of Nick’s engines winding up in the Twin Tails shop.
A quick trip to Miss Abbit’s found the kids safe and sound. She wrapped her arms around me as she cried, thanking me and Miles for rescuing them from Nick. We left after she paid us, heading back to the office while she went to cook soup for all of them.
The office was cold and quiet, the dull light of morning finally settling over the town. Miles had gone back to the garage to work on his new engine, police sirens wailing in the distance. I tossed my payment along with my hat onto the desk, the clanking of the glittering gold rings music to my ears, and ran a hand along my hair as I sat by the window. My fading reflection stared back at me, a shock of spiky blue hair sitting atop my head. Then the sun broke over the horizon, coating the street below in light and giving life to the dark buildings in our knothole of a town.
I pondered Nick’s robots. I wondered why my shadow-friend warned me away from the case. I thought about what Knuckles was likely to do once he got his fists on Nick. I considered the idea that Nick was still out there, and would likely want revenge on me for destroying his toys.
I shrugged it off, those worries being tomorrow's worries, and realized I was hungry. Stopping a moment to clean off my red running shoes, I decided to go out and nab a bit of my favorite grub; a chili dog.
---------------------------------
Epilogue
“Curse that Hedge...Curse him!” Ivo slammed two fists down on his desk and began to pace, his boots squealing in protest. “I can’t believe he defeated my latest robot. Defeated...no, he wrecked it!” He paced through his little hidden office, a space he built specifically for evasion in case anything went wrong. It was stocked to the brim with provisions, a wide path in the middle carved out with consideration for his generous girth. Hands clasped behind his back, he fumed and growled to himself as he paced past a scattering of blueprints, old plans, and a smaller model of the drill-bot that wound up being useless.
“I’ll show him,” Ivo muttered, glancing at his blueprints. His tinted goggles changed the color to a darker tone, but they held a secret; they allowed him to see the hidden ink scrawled over the blueprints.
Shuffling through them, he uncovered a floorplan of an anchient underground chamber, built right under this stupid little knothole town. He had traveled all over the world, looking for information on this chamber, and found many interesting theories but no facts. Some sounded far too mystical to be true, but some...Ah, some led him to believe an ancient power source was down there, just waiting to be used. He played with the tip of his wide bushy mustache as he considered his next move. “I’ll show that skinny runt,” he grunted. “This is not the end of Nick Ivo, inventor extraordinaire and genius beyond his time!!”
Taking his blueprint, he trotted back over to his desk and pinned it up on the wall next to a diagram of some finances. “Once I have this power source under my control,” he said, noting his habit of talking to himself and how it helped him think, “nothing will stop me from taking control of the industry, not even that runt, Hedge! And after the industry is mine, I’ll use the money and the robots to destroy this city and rebuild it in my own image; Ivotown! Yes! That’s what I’ll--”
“Talking to yourself again?”
Ivo hesitated, spinning around. He adjusted his goggles to see better, watching as a figure much like Hedge melted from the shadows. He sucked in a breath before realizing who it was.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, recovering with a smirk. “The mysterious ‘Shadow’. What do you want?”
The slender man held out his hand. “My cut.”
Ivo grunted. “Your cut. Your cut for what? You were supposed to divert him, not lead him to me.” He waved a dismissive hand, turning away. “You get nothing.”
He startled when the Shadow appeared directly in front of him, hand still out. “I did what you asked. I wasn’t told to tie him down. I wasn’t told to hurt him. Our deal was that I’d tell him not to take the case, and I’ve done so.”
Ivo sniffed through his giant nose, mustache twitched as he turned his back on Shadow. “Our ‘deal’ was for you to throw him off the case, at which you clearly failed. You get nothing. Besides, all the emeralds are back at my factory, and likely have all been taken by the police or by that idiot boxer, Knuckles. Maybe you can get your cut from them, since I no longer have access--”
Ivo felt a shove from behind, and found himself pinned momentarily to his desk with the cold steel of a gun at the base of his neck. “Wait wait wait!” he cried, “I- I- I may have one or two left. Look in my desk!” He flailed at one of the drawers. “That one! Look in there!”
Shadow opened the drawer, springing a small flash bomb. He stumbled away, falling to the ground as his senses whirled. Ivo stood over him with a laugh, gloating. “You fool!” he crowed, “did you think you could get me like that in my own office? I’ve got traps in every nook and cranny. Now get out! Get out while I still let you out!!”
Stumbling to his feet, the mysterious Shadow fixed him with a glare. “Fine. But this isn’t the last you’ve heard from me. I will come back. And I will get what is owed me.” With that, the mysterious copy of his rival stumbled from the room and Ivo turned back to his plans.
“That little snoop and his gang are going to pay for complicating my plans,” Ivo growled, snatching a blueprint for a dragon-shaped metal monstrosity from the wall. “And I know the right machine for the job...All I’ve got to do now is build him.”
Down the dark hallways and dim rooms, Ivo’s dramatic gut-filled laugh could be heard all over his abandoned, secret office building.
Hah, I forgot I wrote this. Trying to clean out my hard drive and found this tucked away. Enjoy. 😁
-------------------------------------------------
WC: 1603
Summary: Jules is 'suffering' the consequences of her misdeeds. And apparently being bored out of her mind while being forced to wait in café for her ride is one of the consequences. Good thing she's got someone she can easily annoy in the meantime.
“Why did you come to me, Hansel?” I asked, tipping my head slightly as I stared at him. He glanced up at me for a second then back down at his coffee, continuing to scribble.
“I was on assignment,” he answered. “I told you that.”
I shook my head, letting my fingers hover over the steam wafting into the air. “That’s not it, darling, and we both know it by now. Let’s not play games.”
With a sigh, he set his pen down, folded his hands, and looked back up at me over the rims of his glasses. “Alright. Let’s talk true. Why were you down in the Keeper archives?”
I blinked, only mildly taken off-guard. “I tore off the doors and descended to the file room. Only an idiot could think I wasn’t after information.”
“Call me an idiot then,” he said with a short smile. “You could have gotten that information someplace else, from someone else. You didn’t need to raid the Sanctuary for it...and you certainly didn’t need to announce your presence by starting a riot.”
A smile creased the side of my mouth. I wrapped a hand around the edge of the mug and leaned ever so slightly forward. “You know, I can’t tell if you’re very smart or very dumb.”
“Cheeky,” he answered. “Some people would call me cheeky.” He gave a short shrug. “Not now, of course, and not you. But others have called me that and worse.”
“I notice you still didn’t answer.” I gave him time to consider through a sip of the black bean-water humans love, his eyes rolling over words for a moment.
“Well,” he finally sighed, adjusting his glasses, “tit for tat. You don’t answer my questions and I won’t answer yours.” With that he flashed me a little smile and picked up his pen. The little scritch-scritch-scritch of the tip scarring ink into the paper filled the space in the same energy as a loudly-clicking clock, despite the hum of human activity buzzing around us.
I shifted slightly enough to get an eye on the iron shackle subtly wrapped around my ankle, a thin silver chain leading from the cuff to a copper loop around his belt. Hanging underneath the loop was a small signet depicting two golden scales inset into a copper circle; a sign of his station in life, apparently. As if the white robe-like jacket wasn’t enough of a tip-off, the signet was supposed to mark his ill-gotten authority over non-human lives, those who dubbed themselves “Keepers” as in ‘Keepers-of-the-law-we-made-up-to-separate-humans-and- non-humans-forever-and-ever-more’.
Of course, in this case ‘non-human’ basically was anything magical and/or non-terran...like me.
I let my finger carelessly and annoying tap on the edge of the warm mug as I looked around; the ‘cafe’ wasn’t much to look at, honestly, which may be why he picked this spot for us to take our little vacation. We had been holed up in a shack somewhere in Spain, just until the heat died down on a few of my little...misadventures. Turns out we didn’t need to hide for very long. Someone killed a very big name in a very short amount of time, and I had nothing to do with it. My Keeper-friend had decided to be all noble then, caught me with the iron cuff and told me he was turning me in.
To be honest, he had a terrible poker face. This was a farce, and so I leaned back to take in the scenery and wait for the other shoe to drop.
Humans milled around and barely noticed us. The air was dry but pleasant. The sun shone out the windows and the birds sung somewhere off in the distance. It was all very...muted. Domestic.
Boring.
This is taking too long, a voice whispered in my mind. Something is wrong.
Relax, mother, I tried to sooth her agitation despite my own wonderings. He wouldn’t turn on us after working hard to save us.
This isn’t right Jules, and you know it.
She wouldn’t stop fidgeting, the agitation echoing down my arm and into an increased tempo drumming out my fingertips. He glanced back up at my mug for a second, the pen-scratching hesitating as he cleared his throat.
“Oh dear,” I said as innocently as I could. “Is my agitation bothering you?”
“Mildly,” he said with a shrug, looking back up at me. “Is there anything in particular you’re allergic to?”
“Iron shackles, peanuts, and bad liars.”
He thought for a moment before returning to his paper, muttering about peanuts. “Alright, then. Do you have anything to say for yourself regarding your attack on the Keeper Sanctuary?”
“Plenty, darling, but I’m not going to say it to you.” I tapped the edge of his paper to indicate why.
“So...silence on the matter,” he muttered, glancing down and checking off a box. “Any relatives you care to mention?”
I flashed him a thin smile. “All dead,” I lied. “Some missing, several killed by over-enthusiastic rule-followers.”
This isn’t a game anymore, Jules, the voice whispered again. He’s taking notes to turn us in.
He wouldn’t do that, I insisted. Humans aren’t that complicated in nature.
Humans aren’t phae, she insisted back. And this one isn’t as stupid as you think.
My fingertips beat out a faster rhythm.
He glanced up, then around. Something shifted in the environment, very subtly and softly. I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but someone or something magical had just noticed us and was trying to make its way here.
The edge of the pen joined my irritated tapping as he turned back to me. “Final talks, then. Are you sick in any way that you know of?” I shook my head. He didn’t write it down. “No disease or illness you’re aware of?” Again, a shake of my head. The pen continued to tap. “What planet do you come from?”
I tipped my head. “Why?”
“Do you know?”
“I do,” I answered, cocking an eyebrow. “Do you?”
Another pulse of some magic, transportational I think. It rippled through reality like a snake through water, heading right for us. His pen tapped faster.
“Jules,” he said, eyebrows and mouth pressed downward into a serious expression, “why are you here on Earth?”
“I was trapped here,” I said, forcing myself into nonchalance. His agitation was matching my own, his pen replacing the rhythm of my fingertips on the tabletop. “Through decisions and forces that were not my own. I don’t want to be here anymore than anyone wants me to be here.”
He leaned forward, pen pressed flat between his hand and the table. “What if I told you that’s not the whole truth?” he said, lowering his voice. “What if I told you there’s a way in and out of this world?”
I laughed. He stayed serious, leaning in. I stopped.
Is he serious?
I can’t tell.
We sat there for a moment, staring at each other. Something magical landed nearby with a whomp, causing the table and all the glasses around to shake. The humans glanced around and towards the front windows, looking for the cause out in the street. The Keeper and I looked to the back of the cafe, where we knew the origin to be.
He glanced back at me, crumpling the paper in his hand and shoving it in his pocket as he stood. His other hand was held out to me. I gave him a look, shrugged, and allowed him to help me up. I preferred to not be dragged towards our destination by my boot.
We stayed in step with each other, arm in arm to disguise the chain linking us, my skirt brushing up against his jacket as we made our way down the short hall leading to the bathrooms. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at each before selecting the one with the biggest magical aura. He pushed the door open and started through, with me on his heels.
The mood changed in a flash. I stepped out of a small cafe somewhere between Spain and France with open windows and soft music to a blue-lit bar, glittering bottles of alien drinks, and a jazz band set up on a stage at the back of the wide lobby. I glanced back at the door we had come through only to watch it swing closed and disappear, a wood-paneled wall taking over the space.
I glanced at Hansel who kept his eyes forwards, shoulders relaxing a hair as he sort of slumped into the person I had come to know instead of the straight-laced Keeper. He waited a few beats of the jazzy music before turning back to me with a short crooked smile, reaffirming his elbow-on-elbow grip and leading me forwards.
This is Sting’s bar, mother whispered. Why are we in Sting’s bar?
Dear sweet mother-Raven, I thought back, life would be less fun if we knew absolutely everything.
You can say that freely, she thought back bitterly, as you are not mere consciousness trapped in someone else’s shell.
As you say. I turned my attention back to Hansel as he wove us around a collection of eclectic round tables, past the throng of enthusiastic dancers, down the side of the bar and into a small curtained-off area. Only once the music began to fade through the curtains and the padded walls did we stop, facing a dark-wood door embellished with gold and bronze trimmings. Hansel knocked once and the door opened.
I flashed a smile at our host and said simply, “hello again, friend of a friend.”
This was part of a challenge where I wrote a short story every day during June.
...Because Reasons.
Anyway.
Summary: A mage plays chess with a minitour in disguise.
WC: 719
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“Did you know that the eight of clubs represents instability?” Hansel’s fingers hovered over a pawn, debating whether or not to move it. He glanced at the sky; it was just after noon, sun tilting towards the west. “Represents internal strife and whatnot.”
“I didn’t.” His opponent was busy watching the board. His stubby beard itched as he waited, sweat trailing down his face. Hansel’s pawn moved forward. His turn.
“Did you also know,” Hansel said, leaning back with crossed arms, “that we know you didn’t report in as ordered, Terrance.” The creature opposite him hesitated, red eyes glancing up. Despite the human mask, a few creature-like qualities stood out. Like his bulk.
He made the park chairs look like chairs for preschoolers. A dirty hat was shoved over his straw-man hair, and even magic couldn’t hold off the bull-like smell. He snorted, fat fingers covering the top of a knight as he made his move. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Hansel’s eyebrows went up. “You do,” he stated. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be sweating so bad.”
“The sun,” he growled, motioning across the board. “Your turn.”
Hansel leaned forward, fingers hovering over the board again. “You’re on probation, big boy. Stomping down Times Square without a disguise raises questions. Questions we have to answer.” He considered an answering knight, but went for another pawn instead, gliding it forward. “We gave you an apartment and a mask on the agreement you’d report in every night, an agreement which you broke last night. Not only that,” he glanced up to meet the bull’s eyes, “we know where you went.”
Terrance hesitated. His eyes shot around the park, glaring at the kids playing nearby and the odd couple strolling past. His thoughts were getting more and more scrambled. He couldn’t think straight.
“Don’t worry,” Hansel’s voice cut through the scattered fog, “I’m alone. Nobody in the park is a Keeper.”
“Stupid,” he muttered, turning back to the game and pushing a pawn forward. “I could crush you.”
“You could,” Hansel sighed, placing his elbows on the table, “but you won’t. It’ll only get you in more trouble.” Black pawn captured white pawn. Terrance rumbled. Hansel smiled. “So how was The Dungeon? I hear it’s a nice shady bar. Meet any dragons?”
Terrance shook his head, hands grasping the edge of the table. He wanted to flee, or to smash, or to do something, but all he found the ability to do was talk. “Reminds me of home,” he grunted, looking down at the chess pieces. “So what?”
Hansel smiled, dangling the white pawn between his fingers. “So nothing. I’m giving you a chance to confess what you did, realize breaking the contract was a mistake, and come up with a reason why you won’t do it again.”
“Or?”
“Or I’ll have to call it in, which means you go to Trial and then Containment.”
Terrance’s eyes went wide as he froze. He found himself mumbling ‘no’ a bunch of times before hanging his head. “Fine. You win. I’ll...I won’t break it again.”
Hansel nodded, setting the pawn down. “Good. Less work for me.”
The big guy got up and left, lumbering off with head hanging and still in a bit of a mental fog. Hansel leaned over with a smile, knocking down the white queen with a flick.
Thankfully, Terrance wasn’t the brightest on the planet. Otherwise he might have noticed the playing card taped under his chair. Hansel pulled it from its hiding place, shaking it as he dug through his bag for the rest of his deck. Magical playing cards weren’t usually his thing, but he knew he’d need a little extra help and went to a friend.
Most Keepers had representational magic; what the item stands for is the magic that can be manipulated from it; for example, runes representing the future can be used to look into the future, Lilac can be used to put someone to sleep, Rose Quartz can be used on physical injuries, a chess game could be a literal weaving of a magic trap, etc.
Ah, there it was. Pulling out the deck, Hansel pulled off the rubber band containing the cards and slipped the eight of clubs back into place.
It was always a wonderful thing when a plan went smoothly.
