James nodded slowly. He worried about having to explain who Anna was if Shay ever found out, but he had trouble being outraged at a woman who’d done nothing worse than survive. Plenty of artists turned to booze or drugs for inspiration and ended up dead. At least the fairy woman guaranteed results.
“Okay. Deal.”
Anna clapped her hands together. “Wonderful.” She inhaled deeply, and a warm smile spread over her face. “Tyler gave me an overview of what you were looking for, but it wasn’t clear to me the exact context.”
“I owe someone else a favor,” James explained. “And this favor involves me participating in a dirty limerick contest at a bar.”
Anna giggled. “Oh, I love you, Mr. Brownstone. Everything about you is delightful.”
“I hate this shit. I don’t get limericks. I just don’t get what’s funny about them, so I can’t think of new ones. I have to, though. There’s no way I can get out of this contest.”
“Let me ask you something. What is humor to you?”
He frowned. “Jokes and shit.”
“But what makes them funny?”
James shrugged. “I don’t know. They just are.”
Anna wagged a finger. “Nothing ‘just is.’ Now, there are various types of comedy, but since you’re interested in dirty limericks, let’s focus on wordplay. I’d argue that the fundamental basis underlying humor is a betrayal of expectations.”
“Betrayal of expectations?”
“Yes. Although someone might anticipate where a good joke is going, the best humor surprises a person. People’s minds crave order, logic, progression. A good joke tricks that by taking advantage of that natural order.” She laughed. “Take a pathetic joke. Why did the chicken cross the road?”
“To get to the other side, right?”
“Yes. It’s been drained of all humor by repetition, but consider if you’d never heard that joke. When the person told it, you’d try to figure out what complicated reasons underlaid the chicken’s travel plans. In this case the answer is banal, but it could surprise someone because of the implication that merely raising the question implies some special importance.
“Same thing with knock-knock jokes. The audience will feel the tension of the unresolved question and know that something is coming, but the final play on words, if done well, serves as a surprise.”
James rubbed his temples. “Is everything in life so fucking complicated?”
“Everything in life that’s worthwhile is.” Anna rubbed her hands together, a hungry gleam in her eye. “Which brings us to your dirty limericks. The rhyme scheme itself helps, you see. It sets up an expectation in the listener’s mind. You’re familiar with the rhyme scheme, yes?”
“Yeah, that I do understand.”
“Does your contest have particular rules about meter and feet?”
James stared at Anna.
“I’ll take that as a no. We’ll just focus on rhyme scheme, then. Some purists might complain, but I doubt your contest people will. Anyway, the point is, the listener is trying to anticipate and autofill the final rhyme, but a good dirty limerick has a strong contrast between a clean beginning and a filthy ending. Maximum contrast. Maximum surprise.” She half-closed her eyes, inhaled, and shuddered. “Nothing like that surprise.”
“I still don’t get it. What’s so funny about sex and shit?”
“A good dirty limerick rides that liminal line between the sacred and the profane.”
James groaned. “Now I’m completely lost.”
Anna shrugged. “It’s simple, James. In this society, we think of sex as simultaneously important, even sacred, and also as nothing more than animal-like fucking driven by the basest of instincts. A dirty limerick takes advantage of that tension and ambiguity to pop up with maximum surprise. It violates our societal taboos about what we should and shouldn’t talk about. Does that help you understand?”
“A little.” James took a deep breath.
His head hurt, but he could understand what Anna was getting at. Sex was important enough to him that he’d waited until his thirties to even have it, but he also drove past prostitutes selling themselves on the street for cheap every day and thought nothing of it. Sacred. Profane.
Anna took his hand in her soft and warm hand. “Let’s try a few, just so you can think about the form on a deeper level. This is above your understanding right now, I suspect, so I really want to help you deconstruct some and make sure you know how they work.” She cleared her throat. “Ready?”
James nodded.
“Jane came home after a year,
From her trip to a land that was near.
A place barren of hills,
Where she learned many skills,
From fucking men after a beer.”
Anna stared expectantly at James. “It’s not the best limerick, but it’s a useful example. Why might someone find that funny?”
James furrowed his brow. “Because they were expecting something about foreign languages or shit like that, rather than some woman learning how to fuck better. It’s surprising.”
Anna snapped. “Exactly! Let’s try another.” She inhaled deeply.
“The professor is studying mass,
And he teaches many a class,
But he comes home from work,
Too tired to smirk,
And still fucks his wife in the ass.”
James groaned. “Now that’s just nasty.”
Anna laughed. “Of course it is. It’s a dirty limerick. But you understand the contrast? You certainly seem to understand the violation of the taboo line between the sacred and profane.”
The bounty hunter dropped his head. In all his life, he never imagined he’d sit in a townhouse in LA discussing anal sex jokes with a Celtic fairy.
He took in and let out several deep breaths. “Okay, okay. I understand now. I just need some time to think about all this.”
“Good, good. If you need any more help, feel free to give me a call, Mr. Brownstone.”
James lifted his head and nodded toward the photos and paintings. “All those guys told dirty limericks?”
Anna put a hand to her mouth and snickered prettily. “Some of the filthiest you could imagine. Or in your case, probably more than you could imagine.”
14
James was slumped on his couch, his head lolling back. Spending the last several hours thinking about dirty limericks had made his brain hurt, and reading about them online meant he now had scores of the damned things stuck in his head forever.
“Fucking Professor,” he growled. “I’ll get you back for this.”
An alarm on his phone beeped, and he sat up. It was almost time to make the call to the hacker candidate. If he could hire someone useful, it’d at least stop one humiliation. That was the annoying thing about computers and the internet. They represented a problem he couldn’t solve through the gratuitous application of lead and grenades.
James loaded the message from the hacker and hit the link. The link brought up a blank website with a numeric address.
“You’re prompt, Mr. Brownstone,” came a deep and heavily electronically distorted voice through the phone. “I can appreciate working for a man who is prompt.”
“I don’t like to waste people’s time, and I hope they don’t waste mine.”
“I’m not here to waste your time. I’m here to talk to you about the job.”
James nodded to himself. “Here’s the deal. I need to confirm that you’re legit, capable, and very hard to find.”
The hacker laughed. “You came to me. Doesn’t that mean you already know I’m legit and capable? The fact you could even message me proves I’m already hard to find because I know you had to go to someone special to get my contact information.”
“All I know is that you can send me a fucking link. You could be some douchebag kid in his mom’s basement.”
Another laugh. “Maybe. Does it matter?”
“No, I guess not, but it does matter if you ca
n do what I need you to do. If you do, there might be more work for you in the future.”
“And what do you need, Mr. Brownstone?”
“There was video of me taken in a bar called the Black Sun in Los Angeles this morning. The place is owned by an asshole named Tyler. I need you to find it and get rid of it. I don’t know where the security feed from the bar goes, and some people might have videos on their phones.”
“Scrubbing the net is hard, Mr. Brownstone.”
“You saying you can’t do it?”
“Just saying it’s hard.”
“I’ll pay twenty-five thousand for the job.”
The hacker chuckled, the electronic distortion making it sound sinister. “I’m willing to do it, but how will you know I got it all?”
“Guess I’ll have to get an even better hacker to check on that for me.”
“As if.” The hacker snorted. “I’ll update you when it’s done.”
Maria frowned as she knocked on Dannec’s door. An anonymous text on her phone that looked suspiciously like Tyler had written it had suggested that she stop by and ask the elf about “the new players in town.” It had also told her to show up in uniform, so she had half-expected the wall to be missing a door when she got there, like it had been last time she’d shown up in cop clothes.
The door creaked open, and the elf looked her up and down, a faint smile on his face. “You look a lot better in your uniform. You command respect and exude authority.” He gestured inside. “Please, come in and take a seat.”
She brushed past Dannec. “I’m not even sure why I’m here. I think Tyler was trying to push me your way without giving away it was him. It’s like the guy doesn’t want to come off as anything less than a scumbag for some reason.”
Dannec chuckled. “Reputations serve people in a variety of ways, but what’s more important are results.”
Maria sat on the couch and rubbed her fingers against her sweaty palms. “I was told to show up in uniform, but before it was always emphasized to me that it would be a bad idea.”
“When you’re doing things outside of the law, you should not dress as a cop, when you’re doing things within the law you should. Consider that a type of sympathetic magic.”
Maria frowned. “What the exact fuck is going on?”
Dannec dropped into a worn recliner next to the couch with a sigh. “There are some unpleasant beings out there causing me concern. I should have talked to you directly before about them, but I was worried about my position. It’s a good thing you’re here now.”
“What unpleasant beings?”
“Drow.”
Maria shrugged. “What the fuck is a Drow?”
“A type of elf.”
The lieutenant rolled her eyes. “Not exactly a rarity anymore, Dannec. Shit, I think AET has fewer issues with rogue elves than we do asshole wizards and witches.”
“These aren’t like the Light Elves and Wood Elves you’re used to, or any other type of elf you’ve ever dealt with. They are a very powerful subset of elves, and they only respect power.”
That had Maria’s attention. “Why tell me?”
“These Drow are here now, in this city. You have sworn to protect and serve, have you not? The presence of these Drow means someone in LA is going to need protection.”
“How are they different from any other douchebag Oriceran or human? Why do you need an AET lieutenant in your pocket to deal with them?”
Dannec leaned forward and threaded his hands together. “Let me put it in terms you can better understand, Lieutenant. In terms of destructive magical ability, the average strong Drow would probably be a level-five bounty, and some of the royals, level sixes.”
Maria’s eyebrows lifted. “Okay, so they are a little tougher than your average douchebag.” She frowned. “Wait a second. Do they have a certain type of magic that they use? Like a certain style?”
He nodded. “Drow are Dark Elves, so their magic is forged of shadow and often fueled by death. While not pure necromancers, they can use souls and life to feed their abilities.”
Maria shot off the couch. “Shadow magic? Like shadow swords and shadow wings and shit like that?”
“Yes, among many other impressive feats. I can’t stress enough that they shouldn’t be dismissed based on your dealings with previous rogue elves.”
The lieutenant started pacing. “No, it couldn’t be,” she mumbled.
That bitch—what if she hadn’t been human? I’m sure they could have used some sort of magic to change her shape and DNA. She’d had no artifacts on her. No wand, either.
“What are you talking about, Lieutenant?”
Maria stopped and spun to face Dannec. “You said they’re here. How long have they been here?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I can’t say. I’m not always at my place with access to all my artifacts, and depending on what magic they’ve been using, I might not have even been aware of it. They might have only been here for days, or it could have been months. The only thing I know for sure is that they are here now.”
Maria’s lip curled. “Brownstone.”
Dannec frowned. “Brownstone? What does he have to do with the Drow?”
“Not sure yet.” She took a deep breath and sat back on the couch. “You said they respect power, and even I’m willing to admit Brownstone’s powerful. Would they work with him? Maybe lend him some magical muscle?”
Dannec shook his head slowly. “It’s not impossible, but it’s unlikely. Their power is matched only by their pride. Helping an outsider—especially a human—would be out of character. If they have any sort of interactions with Brownstone at all, it’s far more likely that rather than helping him, they want something from him—and it’s not going to end well for him.” He clucked his tongue. “Even the mighty James Brownstone may soon encounter a foe too dangerous for him to handle.”
Maria gritted her teeth. “Wait, are you telling me that I have to fucking protect that asshole?”
The elf shrugged. “I’m only telling you what the most likely scenario is.”
“Look, I came to you for the new deflectors originally because someone who we believed was attached to Brownstone nearly beat our asses. This woman looked like a human, but she used powerful magic that looked a lot like shadow magic to me. It was like she didn’t think we’d be a threat at all.” She pursed her lips. “Called us insects.”
“She may very well have been a Drow in disguise. Sounds as arrogant as one. Since they only worry about power and the strength of their own people, the Drow aren’t above underhanded tactics—assassination, imitation, and that sort of thing if it suits their own purposes. They aren’t as bad as the Atlanteans only in that they’ve always been few in number, so they’ve been forced to restrain themselves or risk destruction.”
“Great. Fucking perfect. Why isn’t the consulate keeping magical terrorists out of my fucking city, especially if they have such a nasty reputation?”
Dannec’s eyes crinkled in weary amusement. “Politics afflict Oriceran as much as Earth. We maintained peace through the Great Treaty with the ever-present worry of destruction looming over both our lands. A certain amount of tolerance has to be extended even to the more difficult elements.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter why or how they got into LA, only that they are here. Going after these Drow and neutralizing them, even if it involves protecting James Brownstone, will serve the cause of order in this city. Protect and serve. Doesn’t that fit with your code of ethics and oaths, Lieutenant?”
Maria heaved a sigh. “Just what I needed.”
“I’m willing to help with additional magic.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can get more funds right away.”
The elf held up a hand. “For free.”
Maria blinked. “Free?”
“Yes. A short-term loss of profit is preferable to the greater one that will come if these Drow are allowed to complete whatever nasty business they intend.”
�
�Fuck, now I’m worried. First things first—I need to learn more about them.”
James opened his refrigerator and eyed the left-over steak from the night before. His rumbling stomach kept reminding him that he hadn’t eaten much that day and that it was time to remedy that issue.
Could go get some barbeque, though, if I can hold out.
He closed the refrigerator and headed into the living room to get his keys.
Barbeque it was.
James had just pulled onto the road when his phone rang. Once he saw it was from Alison, he switched it to speakerphone.
“Hey, kid.”
“Hey, Dad,” the girl replied cheerfully.
“Everything still okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s great, and I’ve been texting ‘Aunt’ Shay a lot.”
James could swear he could almost hear quotation marks when the girl used the word ‘aunt.’
What is that about? Is she pissed at Shay? Or pissed at me? I’m gonna leave it alone. The only thing more confusing than a woman is a teenage girl.
“That’s good. Blow anything up with your fireballs lately?”
Alison laughed. “I wouldn’t call my orbs and flames fireballs. You’re making them sound more impressive than they are.”
James chuckled. “Yeah, you’re still building up to that. It’s not like I could kick a guy through a wall when I was a kid. And your energy sight—it’s impressive how much it’s improved.”
“Oh, sure. It’s easy to see the energy of almost everything now. You thought it was hard to tell I was blind before, but now I think no one can tell.”
“Huh.” James frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
What the fuck? How did she know?
“Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“I can just tell,” Alison answered. “You sound worried.”
“Not worried, just was thinking how much things have changed for you at that school and how I wish you could have gone to it earlier.”
“It’s not your fault, Dad.”
“Yeah, I know, but I guess it still bothers me.”
Fight Fire With Fire: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 7) Page 11