The Emperor

by N. M. Brown

  “This is a waterfall oasis.” Anna breathed, leaning over the railing like a child an Echo could only agree.

  It was a paradise that enticed and lured you to enjoy the fruits of its labour. Literally. The Fae loved fruit cocktails and their effects rivalled Echo’s own creations. While Cardinal House was for getting down and dirty, Elphyne was were you went to forget your troubles, again, quite literally. You unwound and if you were very, very lucky, you woke up safe and sound in the morning. If you were unlucky, you could wind up with many new features, new memories or nothing in your mind at all.

  For the Fae who couldn’t hide their appearance; pointy ears, large black eyes, scaled skin, stayed primarily in the Boxes: secluded, restricted areas for people who knew the truth of the Fae. Already strange and beautiful people were offering them drinks or snacks from glass trays and Anna was already helping herself. Echo helped herself and sent the buzzing hosts away.

  “Cheers.” Echo called, handing Anna a glass and clinked them together. “To a good night.”

  “Hell yes.” Anna cried in excitement, throwing back her head and her drink.

  ◆◆◆

  Currently, Echo had a nice buzz so far, while Anna enjoyed herself, dancing on a tabletop to music that didn’t match what was playing. While she watched the drunk red-head, she enjoyed her favourite thing about Elphyne, the hard planes of his chest pressed against her back

  “She seems to be enjoying herself.” Clay said in her ear, making Echo shiver happily. His fingers were sweeping her neck and shoulders, which was a soft tease compared to their normal games. Where his fingers touched, sparked with rolling heat bringing her face to a flush. Her neck was not where she wanted his fingers, but tonight unfortunately, she had other plans.

  “I should hope so. What did you give her?”

  Clay was an oldfriend and Echo used the term loosely. He served her drinks and entertained her when she came to play. They had a reciprocal relationship. What he got out of it; Echo wasn’t sure. All she knew was… well, she got him, all of him, rock hard body and other regions too. It was safe to say they enjoyed each other’s company one way and another.

  “Its best if you don’t know darling. I’d hate to be to be accused of giving our secrets to the enemy.” Clay grinned, his breath tickling her ear and his sharp teeth scraping the sensitive skin.

  “Hardly.” Echo laughed. “To be an enemy, you’d have to be in our league. Your club is but a small hick town bar.” She teased

  “That may be true to your eyes, but we have customers that come again and again, always choosing us over you. And there are some who just don’t want to leave.”

  Echo suddenly swung her legs over Clay’s lap, straddling him, enjoying the reprieve from Anna. “Why yes, you do. Be a dear and tell me how you do that?”

  Echo rubbed her chest against Clay’s. His soft, brown locks reached his shoulders while his pointed ears just peeked out. His golden skin glowed against, bright ice blue eyes that watched her with amusement. Raised scars mapped out sigils across his skin, crested his chest and arms. In any other setting he’d look like a freak, but here he was dazzling. Engineered from birth by the Fae, he was a perfect specimen of his race. It made Echo wonder why he was thrown out, but that was a question you didn’t ask. The Fae could get so nasty it sent chills down even Echo’s spine.

  “Humm,” Clay groaned as she rolled her hips. “You are such a delectable treat…” He breathed, “And so, so tempting…” Echo was about to roll her hips again, digging in further when a cluster of fiery red hair dipped too close.

  “What are you two up too? Can I join?” Anna cooed, stumbling closer as her alcoholic breath swept between them.

  “Uh, or not.” Clay huffed suddenly, deflating in the most important regions. Echo slid off his lap with great reluctance, but focused. It was show time.

  “Nothing, Anna darling.” Echo smiled sweetly at her prey. She left her legs possessively over Clay who didn’t seem to mind a bit. “We were just discussing our desires.”

  Anna’s eyes focused and unfocused as she swayed in her seat, a drink in each hand, one empty. Processing Echo's words, her face exploded in emotion. “Oh desire! I desired my Canice from the moment I saw him.” Anna wailed sloshing her drink but not noticing. “We met when we were but wee babes. He and I were fast friends, but I always knew we would be more. During Primary school he protected me from mean boys and helped me with our spelling tests and science projects.” Anna began to slur her words.

  “Yes, lovely story darling, but-,” Clay begin rolling his eyes, but Echo nudged him hard in the ribs.

  “Shut it if you know what’s good for you.” She hissed with a smile.

  “Ah, so there is another reason behind your visit. I should have known.” Clay growled back, skimming his hand up her top and across her ribs, pulling a low moan from her chest, but Echo gripped his thigh tight in warning.

  Anna, lost in herself, hadn’t noticed. She still swayed, taking sips from her empty glass. “It wasn’t until High School I convinced him we could-… should be more. He was so cute, but all the other girls couldn’t see it. He was a bit of a dork, always trying so hard, working hard; he always had to have the best grades. I always copied his work because he was so good.” She hick-upped hard. “We went to prom together. I wore a beautiful blue dress and Canice wore his suit. By then he’d filled out and was soooooo hot!”

  Echo leant forward catching Anna’s attention. “It sounds like a fairy-tale Anna. What a life you two lead. What happened next?”

  Anna, lost in her memory and riding her swollen ego, straighten, continuing her dull and overly exaggerated story. “I had it all planed. I knew his mother and my mother, and our priest would throw a fit, but I knew I wanted Canice to be my first. I wanted him to take my flower; to pop my cherry.” Anna’s voice became so whimsical Echo almost vomited. Clay shuddered in revulsion too. “Prom night. Thee night.” She emphasised, “I got us a twin room - in secret - and went up before hand to push the beds together. I knew Benny had spiked the punch, so we were all pretty sloshed… and then, well you can guess…” Anna blushed.

  “How… romantic.” Echo desperately tried to swallow to get rid of the fowl taste in her mouth. “And then you got married. Mr. and Mrs. McQueen?”

  Anna’s face hollowed and her shoulders dropped hard. “Well, …it wasn’t … it didn’t happen exactly like that…” her voice became exceedingly smallasshe passed the cocktail glass between nervous fingers. “There was…”

  Echo waited but Anna had gone silent. “Was what?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Anna stiffened.

  Echo frowned. “But it’s a part of your epic adventure together. Surly the ending is good as the build up?” Echo asked but Anna wasn’t buying it.

  “Can I get another one of these?” She twisted her empty glass in her hand, “I want another one of these. Where is the waitress?”

  Echo’s fingers cramped around Clay’s arm in frustration, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Anna? You and McQueen… You seemed so perfect. So together, even now. I’d love to know how it all happened, so I can be just like you.” Echo clambered forward so she could get into Anna’s face a bit more. “Won’t you tell me the end of your story?”

  “I said no.” Anna’s face was contorted with rage and she gashed her teeth together. She spilt the last of her drink down her front but didn’t seem to notice. “I want to leave. This is not fun anymore.” Anna moved to stand, and Echo was thirty seconds from punching to woman.

  However, Clay’s fingers trailed down her arms softly, sending tendrils of clam sweeping through her rib cage and inflated her lungs. She took an involuntary breath and her body drained quickly of any rage. Fucking Fae and their magic, but it helped, and Echo kept a level head.

  “Sorry.” Echo ground out, trying to mean it. “You clearly don’t want to talk about in.” she breathed again, pulling on every bit of fake humanity she had. “Stay. We’re still having fun. Let’s drink.�
� She cheered, signalling the server who stood waiting outside with a flick of her wrist.

  Clay, confident Echo wasn’t going to lose her cool and her prey, released his mystical hold and turned to the waitress. She was bald, with almost translucent skin and big wide eyes. The thin slip she wore left nothing to the imagination and her body shimmered like glitter. "We'll have a Uéron for the lovely red head.” He said with a crooked grin.

  “She’ll have two.” Echo corrected, looking the waitress in the eye so she knew the girl hadn’t misheard her.

  Clay frowned. "Echo. It's strong stuff. ..”

  "She'll. Have. Two.” Echo just repeated to which Clay shrugged, and the waitress walked away with their order.

  She wasn't getting the answers she wanted. Who cared if they’d had a fairy-tale, whirlwind romance? It was cheap, boring shit. But, there was something underneath it all, a scab Echo needed to scratch off. Fortunately, she was an expert at exposing the raw truth.

  “Well I just want to say despite everything, I am enjoying all this. When Canice and I are together again, I’ll bring him here.” Anna said, nodding to herself, admiring the place again as if they hadn’t been there for four hours already.

  Echo wasn’t sure if any amount of begging or pleading could make the Queenie she knew come here, but then perhaps she didn’t know the good Detective as well as she thought… or maybe she did, and Anna was delusional. Lost in some memory, Anna didn't even blink as she was handed her new drink. Toasting through the air, Clay winked and reattached his fingers to the back of Echo’s neck.

  "To good drinks, late nights and perfect bodies.” He smiled wolfishly.

  "And too the past. May it's ugly head never rise again.” Echo spoke watching with a smile. Clay’s chest rumbled with laughter against her back and together they watched Anna down her drink. And then the other.

  "Bottoms up Leanbh Dorcha.” Clay whispered to her calling her his little nickname.

  Echo grinned. Bottoms up indeed.

  VIII

  The next morning, McQueen read the autopsy report over again and again, his eyes burning as the words looped themselves around his mind. ‘Repeatedly raped… Fourteen weeks pregnant… Signs of vaginally scaring… Botched abortion attempts… Cause of Death: Indeterminate.

  McQueen had to reminded himself over and overWendell was in a better place now; she was cared for. But that didn't stop the thrum of anger making his hands shake. Cassi had summarised in the notes that she couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause of death: Wendell had a critical low amounts of blood in her system, suggesting she bled out, but there were also severe internal injuries. Whoever did this had taken it upon themselves to beat her while she was dying.

  "Any luck on the toxicology?" Looking up startled, McQueen hadn’t even realised Hale had arrived.

  The sun had yet to rise, but McQueen had been in for hours. Finally, after weeks of hoping, he’d had a break in the cold cases. He wished it had been more pleasant, but that didn’t stop him from attacking with renewed vigour. They could get answers now.

  “The toxicology- The tox-report?” McQueen shuffled through the files in a flap. He’d been so busy re-reading the autopsy report, he couldn’t say if any others had made it to his desk. “Ah-… no. It seems I don’t have it yet.”

  Hale sighed in annoyance but didn’t push the subject. The fact the autopsy report had come through so quickly was a miracle. Making machines run faster however, wasn’t possible so Hale had to give Cassi a break. Instead he walked over to McQueen’s stolen white board and examined the map. “You’ve read these files more times than anyone. You know them back to front. Walk me through it.” Hale ordered as McQueen stalled in his seat. “I need to be up to speed on everything if we’re going to make any head way. Come on McQueen. We don’t have all day.”

  The truth was Hale had always taken lead on a case; he saw the files first, took charge and McQueen was happy to watch and learn. It would take time before McQueen felt ready, however, his time was now it seemed.

  Clearing his throat. McQueen gripped the file in his hands tighter but steadied his voice. The noise of the station floor drowned out and switched off all other thoughts.

  “Dating back thirty plus years, a series of children have gone missing across the local area. Our files were linked by their proximity, their noticeable young age and their complete lack of any trace. As of yesterday morning, we found one; Wendell Dalton. Disappeared age six, she was in the local play park and never seen again. Ten years on we’ve found her pregnant and beaten to death. All the children went missing either: on their walk to school, walking to a friend, at a shopping centre, from their house… The kidnapping sites are all different, ranging from busy, quiet, morning to evening, alone or with friends and family.” McQueen took a breath. The cases were a mass of dead ends, partial information, concrete alibis and no real links. It was a nightmare.

  “I can see why so many Detective before gave up so soon.” Hale admitted, studying the dots, matching them to McQueen’s diagram key. “Keep going. What else?” McQueen flipped through his notes.

  “No contact was ever made, no ransom demands, no sightings. They disappeared into thin air. Sadly, most cases were dropped after a few weeks when no progress was made. Any lucky children, like Wendell who got media coverage, went on a little longer, but not by much. The result: nothing.”

  “The fickle, ever changeable media.” Hale growled in disgust and McQueen agreed. The press handpicked their chosen; those who received attention, coverage and cries for help to the public. He didn’t know what was worse, the children who did get their faces in the news and then forgotten, or the ones who never peeked anyone’s interest to begin with.

  “All friends and family of the missing children were vetted with solid alibis, including Wendall’s. There was never a connection made between the cases: different schools, churches, shopping centres, toy shops. They even investigated Doctors, dentists, vet’s and libraries. There’s no one place the children all crossed paths. They’re different social background, economic backgrounds, political, environmental; some lived in apartment, some houses, some gated communities… the list goes on.” McQueen huffed out a sigh feeling the full weight of this case land on him. “The earlier cases were looked at individually, but I’ve gone over all of them for extra information and found nothing. Everything just seems random.”

  “Ok.” Hale mused. “Well just because we haven’t found a link, doesn’t mean there isn’t one. How much time between the disappearances?”

  McQueen referred to his note knowing this was something he had investigated, hoping the children had been taken at the same time or on the same day. Then they could search seasonal workers, delivery routes, anything that would bring a person close to Rippling at a constant pace. No luck there though.

  “There were some twice, three times a year, one year there was only one. They are in different months, on different days with different lengths of time in between. They all go back almost fourteen years on our digital record, but on paper file; they go back at least thirty. I had Reese check for anything we missed that was in different stations, but he found nothing.” McQueen admitted. Reese had, despite the circumstance, enjoyed testing his abilities with that. He had a ‘thing’ with numbers he’d said, finding patterns and difficult probability.

  “Ok. So, a lot we don’t know. What do we know?” Hale moved on, changing the pace. He picked one of the old cases files, opening it up.

  McQueen was sad to admit, his list of information he didn’t know was twice as long aswhat he did. “Wendall Dalton was exactly like the other children; no sightings, no ransom, no note, just gone. Found dead in Warping Woods, she had signs of long-term abuse and wounds all over her body. She has signs of neglect, living in poor living conditions.”

  “It’s unlikely she was housed by a pimp them, or a twisted paedophile. Pimps can’t make money off broken merchandise and a paedophile would look after the subject of their affection.” Hale summar
ised, inspecting the autopsy photos. Hearing him use such a degrading term sent chills down McQueen’s spine but that was unfortunately what traffickers saw people as; merchandise. “Cassi says she’s had multiple abortion attempts, resulting in a lot of scaring and internal damage; not done by a professional. No doctors, no free clinic.”