Eine Kleine Nacht Maggie (Maggie MacKay Magical Tracker Book 9)

by Kate Danley

  The mention of more than one bloodsucker was enough to garner us a bit more attention. "A lot of vampires?" said Dad, turning down the volume on the TV.

  I massaged my neck. My neckguard was upstairs, and it was my next course of business after finishing the beer Killian was in the process of bringing me. "Hundreds," I replied.

  "Shit, Maggie." Dad suddenly got why we were a little lower key than normal. He then turned to Father Killarney. "Apologies for the language, padre."

  "I was about to say feckin' feck myself," swore Father Killarney. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "I'm glad you're both alive."

  I waved off their concern just a little. I didn't have the brain space to deal with both their freaking out and my freaking out. "It's okay. They weren't interested in feeding on us. I mean, I think if we had stayed they might have, but it was... It was like a vampire party."

  Killian came in with a beer and an ambrosia. I have no idea where Pipistrelle found a grocery store which peddled adult elfin beverages, but bless his little brownie soul. Killian sat in the armchair across from me. We clinked bottles in celebration of not being dead. There was an open box of donuts sitting on the coffee table, most likely leftovers from some event at the church. Stress eating seemed like a great idea and Killian grabbed one.

  "A feeding club?" asked Dad.

  "I don't know what it was," I answered. "I mean, it looked like one. Just a place where they go to be among their own kind and do vampire-y things, but it was at an Oktoberfest in Torrance."

  Killian bit into the donut and red jelly squished out of the end.

  Father Killarney blanched. "I did not think they would have such a club in such plain sight."

  "The other problem is that I don't think it was entirely consensual with any of the mortals who may have found themselves in there."

  "Really..." said Father Killarney, an edge of anger creeping into his tone.

  Father Killarney had been fighting vampires since before I was born and as much as I hated the bloodsuckers, he had dedicated his life specifically to taking evil down.

  "We were there and they announced a curfew, but they didn't say what was going on. If you didn't KNOW, you wouldn't have known what was about to happen. And then they locked the gate and didn't let anyone out."

  "Really," said Father Killarney. Now his anger was starting to build.

  Most humans don't know vampires are really real. There's internet chat rooms and forums and sometimes things get out before the World Walkers can quash the information. Drug addicts and prostitutes desperate for some dough sometimes sign up to be living blood banks. Sometimes goth kids think a brush with death could be pretty groovy.

  I hear a rumor Father Killarney really started getting into the evil busting business after some vampires decided to use a runaway shelter he operated as a fill-up station. I never asked him about it. We all have our scars. But I had noted he was always on the cleanup crew when one of these clubs got raided.

  And to make things clear, these clubs weren't entirely illegal. There were some vampires that had all their permits in order and were on Earth for legitimate reasons, and hey, everybody's gotta eat, even the evil undead. They were supposed to use a blood bank, but people can be into some kinky shit. Usually, the legal vampires were able to stop themselves before they drained said people dry. The problem was that there were too many vampires in that Oktoberfest tent to all be legal.

  "I don't know what to do," I said, spreading my hands out wide. "There's no hope of the Other Side shutting them down. I mean, I don't think the Other Side even cares anymore."

  "So, you were thinking we should shut them down..." Father Killarney said. A small smile crept across his face.

  I stopped him. "Right now, I'm only thinking about finishing this beer and finishing off the donuts you brought."

  Killian piped up. "I concur! Excellent plan!"

  "Father Killarney, I think is too big, even for us," I continued.

  "Bah! You wanted to start an elite group to undermine evil since the World Walkers collapsed. Well, what else is the M-Team for?" Father Killarney said. "So, let's do it."

  "I'm not saying we don't do anything," I replied, although thinking about that tent full of the undead, I was kind of thinking "nothing" sounded like a pretty great idea. "I promise! We'll do something. But we just need to... well... make sure that we proceed carefully."

  Father Killarney squinted at me. "Did I just hear Maggie MacKay recommend a cautious approach?" He turned to my dad. "It must have been feckin' bad!"

  I didn't say anything. I locked eyes with Killian and we both took a long swig off our respective beverages.

  But before anything else could be said, the door suddenly opened and Mom, Mindy, Austin, Pipistrelle, and the dog came bounding in.

  "What an invigorating night!" said Mom as they all rushed to bathrooms and to get shoes off. I heard Mindy throwing up in the toilet. "She's still got a touch of the morning sickness," Mom whispered. "I'll be right back."

  I figured we had just a few more minutes before our space was invaded and there was still a pretty big agenda item on my to-do list.

  I leaned over. "I'm thinking of seeing Trovac tomorrow," I said to Dad.

  He looked at me like this was an even stupider idea than going after a whole tent of vampires. "Now why would you do something like that?" he asked.

  "He... knows things. He'll know what is going down with the vampires. Besides, since Killian no longer has this all-inclusive dream job to fall back on, we need some paying gigs and a place to live," I reminded him. "Otherwise this time on Earth is going to be a very short stint because Killian has a spending problem—"

  "I do not," Killian replied, aghast that I would suggest such a thing.

  I continued. "—and I need to be able to afford his habit of buying every shiny Earth object he comes across."

  "I do not purchase EVERYTHING shiny," he pointed out. "I have not purchased a traffic light or a shovel." He paused. "Well, a shovel would be useful..."

  "See?" I pointed out. "Things will get ugly soon. So, can I borrow your car?"

  "I'll go with you," Dad offered with a suave casualness.

  Mom shouted from the other room. "You are NOT going back into the smuggling business, William!"

  "I wouldn't dream of it!" he shouted back. And then he leaned over closer to us and gave me a wink. "Killian, we can't let the elves know you're still alive. Steer clear of that place. I'll make sure Maggie stays safe."

  "Dad, I have had to save your ass more times than I can count in the past six months. I just need to borrow your car so I can have this quick little conversation and be done with it."

  "I know how to handle Trovac!" Dad insisted. "You got some of the lousiest deals when you negotiated with that elf. Let me do the talking."

  "I really, really don't need you to do the talking."

  "The last time she met with Trovac," Killian stated, "he was able to convince her to wear khaki pants. With the pleats in the front."

  I couldn't believe he was playing that card. "Listen, Mr. Leggings Man, I was undercover."

  "Khaki. Pants," he repeated for my dad and Father Killarney, with special emphasis on the horror. "Khaki."

  Father Killarney nodded. "I was there. I bore witness to the horror."

  Dad looked at me and shook his head. "I would expect that sort of behavior out of that sister of yours, but YOU, Maggie? YOU? Mom slacks?"

  I glared at him. "You take that back."

  "Khaaaaaaki..." Killian whispered.

  "FINE!" I said. "FINE! I'll run the carpool tomorrow and drop you off at some sacred site around the city so your ass doesn't get handed to you while I'm busy babysitting my dad." I looked at Dad and pointed my finger accusingly. "Because I know you. I know you're going to get us into trouble." And then I turned back to Killian. "And my father and I will go see the fat elf since nobody here seems to have any faith in my abilities, despite the fact I have saved everyone's colle
ctive asses so many times I would have to take off my boots and shoes to count that high."

  "Khaaaaaaaakis...." Killian whispered.

  Chapter Five

  Killian insisted he wanted to head out to Chinatown and see Xiaoming. That elf was a glutton for punishment. Maybe he figured if he pushed the edges of misery on the bell curve out a bit, whatever I managed to negotiate wouldn't feel so bad. He tried to pretend he had other reasons.

  "Austin seemed not entirely pleased that I wore his clothes into a vampire den," Killian confessed from the backseat as I drove. "I have heard in Xiaoming's neighborhood there are affordable clothing options available for purchase." He rested his hand on my shoulder. "I shall be thrifty and thoughtful."

  I snorted and looked over at Dad, who was just shaking his head. The area around where Xiaoming lives was filled with overpriced knockoffs printed up for the tourists. "And you were bugging me about my khaki pants? Killian, if you come home wearing an off-brand Sponge Bob Square Pants t-shirt, I'm making you walk home."

  "I do not know what that is," he replied.

  "Oh, you'll know..." I answered. "Avoid everything yellow and square."

  He nodded, taking my words very seriously. I pulled up in front of the orange, metal gate to Xiaoming's apartment. Our friend must've been on the lookout for us, because Xiaoming began walking down the concrete stairs and towards our car.

  "Eh, get out of here," I said to Killian. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. "Buy yourself something nice. Don't let Xiaoming talk you into any card games."

  I said it loud enough that Xiaoming could hear me. He grunted grumpily. I was going to take that as a sign that I had foiled his plan. Killian seemed very grateful for the advice, though, and nodded thoughtfully as he put the money in Austin's old coat pocket. He gave my shoulder a squeeze and got out of the car.

  Dad waved goodbye as we pulled away. "The oddest couple," he remarked.

  "Killian is the only creature on this planet that can charm Xiaoming."

  "I hope that he hasn't been relying upon his elfin glamour to maintain their peace."

  "Oh man..." I said, looking at the pair in my rearview mirror. "Killian is fucked."

  I followed Hill Street into downtown LA, then hung a louie and kept driving until we were in a neighborhood no one ever particularly wants to be in. Just off of skid row are the dark and shady streets of the Toy District. The Toy District is a wholesale district that pedals the knockoffs of the cheap knockoffs. I would have brought Killian here for his new wardrobe, but he probably would have gotten knifed.

  The thing about sketchy neighborhoods is that they're bad news for gentrification and hipsters, but good news for any of our kind trying to keep a low profile. No one looks too hard when the guy on a street corner is raving about alternate worlds and magical beings.

  Trovac, the fat elf, had a little coffee shop called El Diablo. Parking was just inconvenient enough that it didn't really attract anyone except for those really wanting to sit down and have a chat.

  The café was down a long alleyway with twinkle lights strung overhead. A little bell tinkled as we walked through the rough-hewn front door. There was also a sweep of what felt like static electricity. I guess that Trovac had increased his Other World security systems.

  The tattooed, horned barista behind the counter didn't even bother greeting us as we walked into the café. He just jerked his thumb towards the patio and went back to reading his copy of the Other Side Weekly.

  It was getting to feel like we were practically regulars.

  We walked onto the back patio. The cane tables were stacked on top of one another and the chairs were piled in a corner. Trovac, the fat elf, was sitting next to a bamboo bar, smoking a stogie. He saw us and dabbed off some of the ash.

  "If it isn't MacKay and MacKay!" he exclaimed. He didn't stand, but he did sit up a little straighter on his stool and held out his hand to Dad. "Glad to see you're not a statue anymore."

  My dad shrugged and sat down. "My daughter figured it out," he replied. I noted a little hint of pride in his voice as he kicked up a leg and put his heel on the table.

  "So, what can I do for you today?" asked Trovac.

  I should have taken the "be cool" cues of my dad, but instead, I launched into things. I didn't have time to play coy. "Listen, I have some useful skills which could benefit your organization and I would like to discuss finding a mutually beneficial arrangement."

  "And what might this mutually beneficial arrangement be?"

  "I'm a World Walker without a job."

  "I've got a world full of World Walkers without jobs. Do you know how many unemployed of your kind are hanging around this place? There are more World Walkers than there are Starbucks in this town, and that's saying something."

  "But none of them are as good as me," I pointed out.

  "This is true," he agreed, taking great interest in rolling off some more ash from his cigar rather than meeting my eyes.

  "All I'm asking for is an advance so I can get us a place to set up operations and then, whenever you need something lifted and taken across the border, I'll take care of that for you."

  "Us?" Trovac leaned towards me, his voice dripping with more than casual interest.

  "Me and my dad," I blurted out, realizing I may have made a pretty idiotic slip.

  Trovac looked at my dad with interest. "I heard you were retired?"

  "Things are a little hot on the Other Side right now for the MacKay family," he replied with a shrug. "Just seeing if there might be an incentive to set up operations here on Earth."

  "Hmmm..." said Trovac, not entirely buying it. He stuck his cigar back in his mouth and chewed on the end. "Last I heard MacKay & MacKay had become M&K Tracking. Where's that elf of yours, Maggie?" he asked. "Rumor on the street is that the queen is beside herself. Said it feels like he died, but there's this old wives tale that if an elfin ruler gives her heart, a tunnel between the dimensions will form on the death of said loved one, reuniting them one final time so she can recover the body. But that didn't happen. Has so many elves perplexed. She's in an outright tizzy looking for him just in case he's not all the way dead and has offered quite the reward."

  I realized that I probably should have listened to Killian and my dad last night. No way I was pulling off the distraught-best-friend-who-just-lost-her-business-partner look. I glanced nervously at my dad for help. He was on it.

  With a sympathetic look, he reached out and grabbed my hand. His look also said, "Keep your fat mouth shut, Maggie."

  "We're looking for him, too," he replied. "Maggie is absolutely distraught."

  I tried my best to look distraught. I might have just looked like I had eaten some bad tacos.

  "It's why I'm actually staying here on Earth," Dad continued.

  "Really?" said Trovac, folding his arms across his wide chest and leaning back. "Do tell what happened."

  "We fought a dragon. Maggie spliced him in two when she ripped open a portal and slammed it shut on him."

  Trovac tilted his head, just a little acknowledgment that he was impressed. I turned my face into my shoulder so that he couldn't see I was not freaking out as much as I should at the loss of my partner.

  "But when she opened the portal.... we lost Killian..." said my dad. He shook his head sadly and then gathered me up into his arms so that, yet again, Trovac couldn't get a good look at my face. I tried to make my shoulders heave a little. Dad rested his hands on my neck. "No, no, Maggie. It'll be okay. Don't do that."

  I heard Trovac shift in his seat. "Hmm."

  "Do you know about the faerie king, the Mad King Cole?" my dad asked.

  There was a tension that settled upon the room. It was thick enough that I felt comfortable I could come out with a bowl of fruit on my head dancing like Carmen Miranda and Trovac wouldn't give a rat's ass.

  "Mad King Cole?" Trovac repeated. The air practically sizzled as he said the words. "I know who he is," he confirmed and then warned,
"We do not speak of him."

  "He managed to cross the boundary," Dad explained.

  "Ah," said Trovac, all bluster and ego blown away. I tilted my head to get a peek at him. He was scared shitless.

  "Maggie sent him back to the faerie realm."

  "Ah," repeated Trovac, absolutely speechless for the first time I'd ever met him, but looking so grateful, it almost felt like he might offer me a free favor just for shits and giggles.

  "We would appreciate if you did not speak of seeing Maggie or me or any other suspicions you might have to the Queen. It is an awfully nice boundary between here and Faerie and it would be a shame if anything happened to it."

  Trovac gulped. His eyes shifted back and forth from me to my dad. "You have my word of honor that from this point forward, I shall say nothing."

  "Good," said Dad, leaning back in his own chair and releasing me. I pretended to wipe away some tears. "I'm glad we have an understanding."

  "So, what was that you said I could do for you?" Trovac asked, clearing his throat and nervously smoothing the bar like there should have been a tablecloth there for him to smooth. But there wasn't.

  I was kind of digging this shift in power going on here.

  "Well, like Maggie said, we're out of work, Trovac," my Dad reiterated. "Thought you might have something to help keep the brood fed."

  "Ah!" he said, blinking. Trovac shuffled over to the hostess stand and pulled out a stack of papers from where the menus should have been. "I might have something here."

  "Oh, have you heard about a vampire bar taking over that Oktoberfest in Torrance?" Dad asked offhandedly as he picked a speck of dirt off his boot.

  Trovac stopped and turned towards us. "That is strange..."

  "What?" I asked.

  He licked the tips of his fingers with his thick tongue and then started flipping through the stack of papers. Wheezing, he walked over to our table and then stopped, pulling out a single sheet and handing it to us.

  I glanced down. "A cuckoo clock?"

  "Bavarian. 16th century. A magician supposedly built it and then the artisans in the area tried to recreate it with cogs and weights. Gave birth to every carved, ticking bird you've ever heard."