Shadow Sight

by E.J. Stevens

  The cruel twist of the redcap’s lips faltered and his mouth fell open. Eyes wide, he swept the blood caked hat from his head and bowed low until his large nose brushed the cobbles.

  “Beg pardon, Mis…mis…tress,” he stuttered. “Take this blade in recompense.”

  He reverently set his knife on the stones at my feet, and bent double, began moving away. Bowing vigorously, he stepped into a shadow cast by a nearby building and was gone. Well that wasn’t weird or anything.

  Unfortunately, his nasty little blade remained on the ground before me. Why couldn’t his knife have disappeared? I did not want to touch that thing again, but couldn’t leave it for passerby to find. If the redcap’s glamour was still active, it probably continued to look like a child’s toy. I definitely couldn’t just walk away.

  I unlaced my boot and retrieved the pouch from where it lay nestled in the crook of my ankle. I needed to get my utility belt back from Kaye. I had it yesterday, so must have left it in her kitchen. Hopefully, Hob hadn’t gone exploring for trinkets. If so, he’d get a nasty surprise. There were some items in that belt that were like kryptonite to the fae.

  Unwinding thread, I upended the pouch above the knife sprinkling salt and iron shavings over the blade and handle. I tried to pretend the red liquid that remained in the grooves, where the cross-guard met the blade, was ketchup. Bile rose in my throat. My attempts to see the blood—my blood—as ketchup wasn’t working. I didn’t see a burger and fries in my near future.

  I needed something to wrap around the knife before picking it up. I didn’t trust my bike gloves to keep me from a string of gory visions. With a sigh, I pulled off my sock. The inside of my boot felt rough and uncomfortable against my skin, but it was better than facing those visions again.

  Biting my lip, I repressed a shudder, and gingerly lifted the knife in my sock covered hand. I wrapped the rest of the sock around it, and holding it away from my body, started up Wharf Street to The Emporium. The run in with the redcap made me nervous. What was he doing in the city and why did he run away after tasting my blood?

  I needed to talk to Kaye. Her knowledge of the fae far exceeded my own. Squinting against a headache, I stomped up the hill. She’d have information, but I had a feeling that I wouldn’t like the answers to my questions.

  Chapter 10

  Kaye was staring at the blade like it was a venomous snake. It could easily be just as dangerous, but at this moment I didn’t really care. It was safely in Kaye’s hands and no longer my responsibility. Finding the kelpie king and saving the city took priority.

  I crossed my arms and winced. The cut on my right bicep was taped with gauze and wrapped with a bandage, but it still hurt. The throbbing in my arm matched my injured foot, forming a thumping baseline to the background music of my life. At the moment the soundtrack consisted of the rhythm of my tapping foot, the one not stomped on by a crazed redcap, and heavy sighs.

  I was irritated with Kaye’s reticence. I couldn’t persuade her to talk about the redcap and his peculiar reaction to my blood. So far, she had stubbornly ignored all of my questions. My patience was becoming thin as wet tissue.

  “Oberon’s eyes, I’m tired,” I said. Okay, I was whining, just a bit, but I was weary with fatigue. The adrenaline from the surprise confrontation with a redcap was fully flushed from my veins and I was left feeling exhausted. “Where’s Marvin? I thought he was meeting us here this morning.”

  “You swear like a pixie,” Kaye said, pulling her gaze from the redcap blade. She was giving me that scrutinizing look again. It made my skin crawl. “Mab’s bones, and Oberon’s eyes? These are faerie words, girl. Where did you learn them?”

  Hob, who had cleverly been staying away from Kaye’s glare and my tapping foot, edged forward in curiosity.

  “From my mom,” I said, but I knew that wasn’t the full truth.

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized that the sayings reminded me of my dad. Those faerie phrases were remnants from my past, part of another lifetime, when I was happy and my family was whole.

  Apparently, Kaye could read the realization on my face. She fixed me with a knowing look, cocking an eyebrow, and put her hands on her hips. Her message was clear; spill it, Ivy.

  “…and dad, my real dad, before he left,” I said.

  I tried to unclench my jaw, the muscles in my face starting to ache. A twinge of pain at my temples warned of a looming migraine.

  Kaye’s intense stare made me uncomfortable. I didn’t like talking about my real dad. He left us when I was just a toddler, but it still hurt. Why did he abandon us?

  It’s totally irrational, I know, but I wondered if my psychic curse would have awakened if my real dad hadn’t left us. Everything was so perfect before. Bad things didn’t happen to us when he was still around. He always made me feel safe.

  I could use that protection right now. Kaye’s hand was fisted in her lap, dangerously close to the wand at her waist, and she looked pissed.

  “And you never thought it peculiar that your ma and da spoke faerie words?” Kaye asked.

  “What?” I asked. “Of course not! My mom was taking a seminar in Shakespearean plays when she met my dad. They studied A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’m sure those phrases are just from the play. They both loved Shakespeare. It’s what brought them together.”

  “That may explain it,” Kaye said. “The fae folk can’t resist The Bard.”

  What the heck was she talking about?

  “Are you trying to say that my parents hung out with faeries at the Shakespeare seminar?” I asked. I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation, it was crazy.

  “Something like that, yes,” Kaye said. “What do you remember about your father?”

  “Not very much,” I said. My palms started to itch and sweat trickled down my back, making my shirt stick to skin. “I remember playing in the garden after dark, my mom and dad laughing as I spun and clapped and chased the fireflies that danced around my father’s legs.”

  My head ached and my vision blurred as the room spun. Kaye moved forward and helped lower me to the floor. She knelt at my side and muttered strange words in a sibilant tongue. Pulling a slender wand from the waist of her skirt, she waved it over my head then tapped me on the temple and chest.

  “Forget,” Kaye said.

  I felt a pressure growing, as if my skull was shrinking, and the memories of my father and the summer garden started slipping away.

  “Wha’ di’ you do ta the lass?” Hob asked.

  “Patched up an old spell that’s been on the girl for most of her life,” Kaye said. “I imagine a geis not to ever speak of her former lover was placed on Ivy’s mother, while a spell to block all memories of her father was placed on Ivy. A child would not have understood the dangers of a geis. It had the taste of fae magic, but the memory spell was simple. I would guess that Ivy’s father used the geis and the spell to protect Ivy and her mother, but Ivy’s memories were leaking and she was starting to remember. Her nervous outbursts of faerie slang were what made me suspicious. That, and her aura.”

  “Her aura?” Hob asked. “Ta lass not be sick, or cursed?

  “No,” Kaye said. “Don’t worry. I saw no darkness to indicate a curse or threads of green for illness. But her aura isn’t normal for a human. It burns too brightly, much too brightly, as if she were on fire.”

  “Will ta lass be a’right, then?” Hob asked.

  I held onto consciousness, willing myself to hear Kaye’s answer. What was wrong with my aura? Did it have something to do with the redcap’s reaction to my blood? Would I be okay?

  “I hope so,” Kaye said. “I dearly hope so.”

  Her words echoed as I slipped into oblivion.

  *****

  I cracked my eyes open, confused. Had I dozed off? Kaye was still at her workbench, glaring at the redcap knife, and Hob bustled about the kitchen with his dust cloth. I rubbed my face and stretched. I seriously needed a caffeine fix.

  “May I
make a cup of tea?” I asked.

  I asked the question to the room, but directed my gaze to Hob. The kitchen may belong to Kaye, but this was the hearth brownie’s domain.

  “Aye, lass,” Hob said.

  He didn’t look up from his dusting. The hearth was so clean it nearly sparkled, but domestic fae were fastidious to the point of obsession.

  I felt slightly hurt that Kaye and Hob were both ignoring me. They could examine knives and dust kitchens later, right? I tried not to let Hob’s back bother me, but failed. I was tired and needed the smiling face of a friend right now.

  I pulled a canister down from the cupboard, checking the label twice, careful not to spill any leaves onto the clean counter as I scooped tea into the pot. I nearly dropped the teapot, leaves and all, when the silence of the kitchen was broken by someone rapping on the back door.

  The door opened with a thump and a large, shaggy head poked under the lintel. A young troll smiled, showing a mouth filled with broken teeth. The each uisge who viciously attacked Marvin had kicked him in the face, damaging his teeth and gums.

  Though still sporting injuries, he looked better today. Kaye had tended to the troll’s wounds with magic and herbal treatments. The swelling and bruising on his face was less widespread and the infection, that had caused puss and bleeding during out last visit, seemed under control. He even smelled better. But I knew that the worst damage from such an attack was the kind that couldn’t be seen, so I was relieved to see him smiling. He seemed like a good kid. I didn’t want to see him suffer.

  “Hey, Marvin,” I said, waving. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

  “Hi, Ivy,” Marvin said shyly.

  He was carrying a huge pot of honey under his arm and scooping the sugary liquid with large, blunt-tipped fingers, shoveling it into his mouth at an alarming rate. I guess growing bridge trolls like their sweets. I knew a local shop that sold real maple syrup. Maybe I’d buy a jug for Marvin. The stuff was expensive, but Jinx’s shoes were already going to set me back a week’s pay. What would it matter? Broke was broke, right?

  “Eat up, I’ve got a job for you,” I said. “You too, Hob, if you’re interested.”

  Marvin sat on the floor, honey pot between his tree trunk legs, and hob came to hover by my shoulder, standing on the hook that stuck out from the hearth. Kaye continued to stare at the knife, but her ears pricked and I was sure she was listening. I ignored her.

  As gently as I could, I brought up the kelpies, the each uisge, and the recent attack on Marvin. He stared into his honey pot and his shoulders started to shake. I think I made the kid cry—either that or I gave him the hiccups. I felt like a heel. Hob handed him a hanky, which I thought was awfully nice, but it may have just been to prevent tears and honey from marring his clean floor.

  I continued talking, wanting to just get this over with and vowed to buy Marvin as much syrup as he could eat. Hopefully Jinx and Father Michael were able to negotiate a hefty payment for this job. I was going to need a sizable payout, judging by the size of that honey pot.

  When I explained that the man Marvin saw abducted was the kelpie king, he understood our need to find more information and put a stop to the each uisge invasion. The kid caught on quick. He didn’t want to encounter another each uisge again, ever. That meant making sure they didn’t have a chance to wage war on our city. I had to admit, he may stumble over the English language, but Marvin was a smart kid.

  I sketched out a plan to have Marvin show me the bridge where Ceffyl Dŵr was last seen. The bridge had been his home until the each uisge attack and Marvin seemed almost eager to return. He had left in a hurry and hoped that a few of the possessions he had been forced to leave behind remained. We agreed to walk there together and, if we had enough daylight, stop to question a few of the fae who lived near the river.

  There was a variety of levels of intelligence amongst the fae. Some like elves, hags, brownies, and banshees were highly intelligent while hinds, wisht hounds, and nuckelavees behave more like animals. Pixies are the worst, being the fae equivalent of insects.

  If I wanted to gain information more illuminating than how thick the dew was the night of the each uisge attack, then we needed to go looking for some of the more intelligent fae. Unfortunately, smart faeries are usually more dangerous. I was hoping that the water hags who live in the vicinity of the bridge would be more accepting of my presence if I came in the company of a bridge troll.

  So Marvin and I would search the area of the kelpie king’s abduction and, with a bit of luck, glean something helpful from the hags. That is, if something didn’t eat us.

  Hob’s job was less risky, but just as important. The brownie was tasked with sneaking into local pubs, the ones with chimneys and no resident fae, and spy on conversations. I suspected that there must be some gossip about the recent “shark” attacks, especially amongst dock workers. With a bit of liquid courage to loosen tongues, I hoped that Hob might catch wind of where the each uisge were focusing their attentions.

  Perhaps, between us, we could discover the location where the each uisge were holding Ceffyl Dŵr.

  “Ready to go?” I asked, turning to Marvin.

  “Smell funny,” Marvin said, sucking the last of the honey off his fingers.

  “Sure, kid, you do, but I don’t hold it against you,” I said. “Come on.”

  Hob and Marvin exchanged a look and burst out into chortling laughter.

  “Okay, you two, what gives?” I asked.

  Marvin just pointed a sticky finger at me and laughed a sound that resembled rocks in a cement mixer. Hob held his belly and let out a last wheezing gasp.

  “Lad tinks you smell strange, lass,” Hob said. “Not ‘ta other way ‘round.”

  “Very funny,” I muttered.

  “Smell glowy,” Marvin said.

  Smell glowy? What was this kid smoking?

  I narrowed my eyes at Hob. He better not be teaching Marvin bad habits. The kid had enough troubles.

  “Have you two been sharing a pipe with a pooka?” I asked.

  My question made Hob laugh harder. Oh well, I’d have a serious chat with him later.

  “Safe travels,” Hob wheezed.

  “Safe travels, Hob,” I said, shaking my head. “Come on, kid. We have a job to do.”

  I waved to Kaye and exited out the back door.

  Chapter 11

  Marvin was a good walking companion. He didn’t talk a lot, but when he did it was usually to point out something that I would have missed. My adult brain filters out things like rainbow shimmers caused by water sprinklers, the way truck brakes on the nearby highway overpass sound like a machine gun, and butterflies hovering above a honeysuckle covered trellis. He was also the first to notice the pixies roosting under the bridge.

  Great, it just had to be pixies. I hate pixies. They were like a flamboyant marriage of mosquitoes, wasps, and peacocks. They buzzed about their nest, darting in and out of the hive in irritation. The flutter of their iridescent wings was beautiful as they flit in and out of sunbeams, but I knew better. They may be pretty, but I’d been pixed before and, let me tell you, it sucks. Pixies are armed with a stinger the size of an elephant hypodermic needle. One sting will knock a grown man out for at least ten minutes, plenty of time for the evil bugs to have their fun.

  Pixies live on salt—it’s why they usually nest near brackish streams and ocean waters. They can survive on the residues that build up on dock pilings and bridge abutments, but their favorite salt lick is a human victim.

  Once incapacitated by the neurotoxin injected by their stinger, the pixie prey is then swarmed by members of the hive who…lick the salt from their skin. I stifled a shudder. Not only is the attack repulsive, but a compound in their saliva is an allergen to humans. The victim is left with a burning rash, from head to toe, and an eternal dislike for pixies.

  I’m pretty sure that Jinx was attacked by pixies last summer. Her description of “evil stinging hummingbirds from Hell” fit with m
y experience, and pretty flocks of tiny birds was probably what the creatures looked like to regular humans. She had jumped, when a black cat ran out in front of her, and slammed into a nest. Her rash was so bad that she missed an entire week of work.

  I wasn’t going anywhere near that bridge, not without a Kevlar beekeeper’s suit. Instead, I searched the ground where Marvin indicated the kelpie king had last stood. Though daytime, the landmarks were recognizable from my vision. This was definitely the place.

  While I inspected the gravel footpath and surrounding bushes for clues, Marvin went off to gather his belongings. He laughed at my concern over the pixies. Apparently, troll skin was too tough for the stingers to pierce. Lucky kid.

  My search yielded a bubblegum wrapper filled with a wad of chewed gum, a condom wrapper which thankfully did not contain any used latex, and an empty water bottle. Sighing, I kicked a nearby bush in frustration and was surprised when an arcade token struck the ground, rolling to rest at my feet.

  Had it belonged to Ceffyl Dŵr, or one of the each uisge attackers? There was an arcade down by the pier that used tokens. I was suddenly very happy that Jinx had warned her friends away from the area. An image of each uisge eviscerating children crept to the surface. If the each uisge were spending time down at the arcade, then no one was safe.

  I pulled out my cell phone, snapped a picture of the token, and sent it to Jinx. Maybe she could find out which arcade it came from.

  I dreaded what I had to do next. I waved Marvin over and sank to the ground. We didn’t have time to go back to The Emporium or my apartment. Here would have to do.

  My stomach twisted in protest, but I started pulling off my gloves, preparing to touch the golden coin. It was stamped with a harlequin wearing a jester hat, similar to those seen on Mardi Gras party favors. The smiling, masked face was supposed to look festive, but it filled me with dread. It was as if the harlequin was laughing at me, a fool about to risk her sanity for information.