by Sarah Noffke
Liv brought Bellator around, but the maniac knocked it out of her hands at once, and it clattered across the floor and landed in the pool. The elf sent her down to the ground with a sudden jolt of magic. She was about to respond with a fireball when she realized that she was paralyzed from the head down. All she could do was blink.
The evil elf swiveled his sword around, pointing it at Liv’s throat. She wanted to gulp or say something to either insult him or throw him off his game. Maybe both. Words were her greatest weapons.
“Any last words, Warrior?” the elf asked, vicious heat in his words.
Liv caught her reflection in his eyes. She had a reply ready, something fiery and insulting that would definitely turn the tables. As she opened her mouth to speak, an arrow went straight through the elf’s head. He wavered for a moment as if he was momentarily surprised by this change in events, then he swayed to the left before falling to the right and landing on his side, his sword clattering to the ground with him.
Chapter Nineteen
As soon as she was released, Liv bolted to her feet, creating a fireball at once and readying to launch it at whoever had the bow and arrow.
She froze.
Standing on the other side of the pool, his black cloak billowing in the wind, was none other than Stefan Ludwig. His black hair was matted over his forehead, his chin tucked, and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
He lowered the bow and regarded Liv with a sideways grin before turning to address the crowd. “That’s all for now. Catch the full show later. Same spot, different actors. Until then, the rooftop is closed.”
The mortals who had backed off a safe distance to watch the fight erupted into applause as Liv retrieved Bellator from the bottom of the pool using a summoning spell.
Chatting excitedly, the mortals dispersed.
Liv caught Stefan’s eye as she strode back to the bar, stepping over the dead elf’s body. That was Stefan’s problem.
Sheathing Bellator first, Liv hopped over the bar, popping up just as Stefan arrived on the other side, a proud grin on his face.
“You’re welcome,” he sang, winking at her.
“You were the Warrior asking about Mirror Eyes, weren’t you?”
He slung his bow over his back and nodded. “Spincoster is the despicable elf’s name.” Stefan gestured casually over his shoulder at the dead body. “And yes, I was the one asking around about him, although I didn’t think he’d go after you or another Warrior. Good thing I was tracking him. So again, you’re welcome.” He bowed slightly.
“I totally had the situation handled,” Liv said, taking a sip of her whiskey, grateful that it hadn’t been tossed.
“He had his sword to your throat,” Stefan countered.
“I was about to talk my way back to a standing position,” Liv argued.
“Although I believe you, I’m not sure trying to fight Spincoster would have worked,” Stefan explained. “He’s deadly with a sword. I would have never gone up against him like that, which was why I picked up this bow and arrow.” He patted his quiver.
Liv regarded him over the glass in her hands. “I didn’t really have a choice about going up against his sword, and he was pretty impressive. I would have definitely gotten nicked if we’d kept fighting.”
“But I came to your rescue.” Stefan pressed his hand to his chest proudly.
“You’re looking for a thank you, aren’t you?” Liv asked.
“I’m just happy to finally return the favor after all the times you’ve saved me.”
“Should I remind you that I wouldn’t have been in danger from Spincoster if not for you and your nosing around?”
He shrugged, putting his elbows on the bar and leaning forward. “I don’t see any reason to bring that part up.”
Liv shook her head and finished her drink.
“So since you’re back there, you mind fixing me a drink?” Stefan asked.
Liv pulled out her codex, confirming that Papa Creola still hadn’t sent the location for Foggerbottom. “Sure, why not? But first, I need you to hold something.”
“Well, of course,” Stefan answered, extending his hands over the bar.
Liv leaned down and picked up Scientist.
Stefan’s face was sort of priceless when she put the chicken in his arms.
“Here, hold my chicken so I don’t step on her,” Liv said, going to work making drinks.
Stefan laughed. “You always say the most unpredictable things.” He set the chicken down on the bar, where she promptly took a seat, looking up at him with what could only be described as instant adoration.
“You want a virgin strawberry daiquiri, right?” Liv asked, dropping ice cubes into two tumblers.
“With two limes, please,” Stefan said, not missing a beat.
Liv poured two healthy doses of whiskey. “What are you going to do with your dead guy?” She nodded in the direction of Spincoster.
“Send his body back to the Kingdom of the Elves,” he said, giving her an appreciative look when she slid a glass in his direction.
“So this has something to do with your case? You weren’t just trying to get me killed?” Liv asked, noticing that the chicken still hadn’t taken her eyes off of Stefan.
“Getting you killed was never on the agenda,” Stefan explained, taking a sip. “Spincoster was smarter than I gave him credit for. He got wind that I was asking about him and went after the closest Warrior he could find. That happened to be you, but what he didn’t realize was that I was close behind him. That was when I stepped in earlier and saved your life. You remember that part?”
Liv sipped her drink. “Hardly.”
“I’ll make you a scrapbook to commemorate the occasion,” Stefan fired back.
“Make sure it’s on rose-scented paper or I’ll throw it away,” Liv warned.
“Of course. What do you take me for, some barbarian?” he asked with mock offense.
“You just fired an arrow across a chic pool on the rooftop of the Cosmopolitan, killing a really pretty elf,” Liv stated blandly.
“Who, by the way, was a horrible villain, and one of the biggest dangers to the High Elf Council,” Stefan explained.
“And that’s why you went after him, wasn’t it? To earn the favor of the High Elf Council so they’d sign the negotiation with the House of Seven?” Liv asked.
He tapped his fingers on the bar rhythmically. “Well, I asked myself, what would Liv Beaufont do?”
“If she was you, she’d clean under her damn nails,” Liv said, nodding at his hands.
He glanced at his nails and shrugged. “Yes, I should wash up soon. I’ve been on the road for days. Maybe I’ll get a room downstairs. I hear they are nice.”
“Just don’t drink the tap water,” Liv warned.
“Why drink water when there’s whiskey?” Stefan said, indicating his empty glass.
Liv set the bottle on the countertop and strode around the bar to sit next to Stefan.
“As I was saying, I asked myself what you’d do in my situation,” Stefan continued. “That was when I came up with the idea of proving to the elves that they needed the House of Seven. So I’ve decided to take out their most wanted, thereby earning their favor.”
Liv took a swig of her drink. “Not a bad approach. Although I might have just explained to them that I’d protect them from their nemeses rather than gone out and hunted them all down.”
“Yeah, good point,” Stefan stated. “But they’d probably believe you, since you’ve got that kind of reputation. I thought I should prove my loyalty, and now I only have two or three more villains to take down before I earn the High Council’s respect.”
“Then you’ll ask them to sign the negotiation?” Liv asked.
“Yes, and I assume they will. Spincoster has been a huge pain in their asses,” Stefan explained as his facial features shifted. “You really thought he was attractive?”
Liv glanced at the dead elf sprawled out behind them. “He’s got pretty eyes
, good bone structure and a nice ass.”
“It isn’t just about looks. Can he hold a delightful conversation over drinks?” Stefan held up his whiskey, an expectant look in his eyes.
“Thanks to you, I’ll never know,” she said, clinking her glass against his.
“You’re welcome.” He glanced around, a peaceful expression on his face. “So what brings you and your chicken to Las Vegas?”
“Father Time wanted me to turn the chicken back into a scientist, but in order to do that, I have to track down this fae named Foggerbottom. However, he’s not going to help me unless King Dumbface makes him, so I came here to get a decree from Rudolf, but now I have to be the best man at his wedding, which if he keeps up his antics might also double as his funeral,” Liv said in one long sentence without taking a breath.
Stefan’s blue eyes dazzled with amusement. “You really are a master of storytelling, Warrior Beaufont.”
“Oh, where are my manners?” Liv asked, diving halfway over the bar and grabbing a tumbler. She sat it down in front of the chicken and poured her a drink. The chicken sniffed it before taking a small sip.
“And now you’re having a drink with a bird while overlooking the Las Vegas Strip,” Stefan said. “Seriously, how do your days not all run together from the monotony?”
Liv took a sip. “The whiskey helps.”
Stefan leaned forward, whispering into Liv’s ear. “Is it just me, or is your chicken looking at me strangely?”
Scientist had nearly finished the whiskey, which was definitely going to go straight to the bird’s small head. She was in fact regarding Stefan with a weird expression. She almost appeared to be flirting as she blinked rapidly at him.
“She’s not really my chicken,” Liv explained. “I’m sort of just her protector. But soon I’ll get her changed into whatever she is, and then she’ll lead me to Shitkphace.”
“I like to make up names for the bad guys I go after too,” Stefan related. “I called Spincoster by a few different choice words while tracking him.”
“That’s the villain’s real name,” Liv corrected.
“Oh, your cases are far more interesting than mine,” Stefan said, leaning away from the chicken when she neared him on the bar.
“Don’t worry, she’s just a bird,” Liv consoled. “I’m mean, she’s a scientist in the body of a bird, and apparently she can make crazy-awesome magic tech that defies time, but still, I’ll protect you if she comes any closer.”
The alcohol was apparently in full effect on the chicken. She set her head down on the bar, closing her eyes immediately.
Stefan sighed in relief. “Thanks. I sleep better at night knowing you’ve got my back.”
When they’d been silent for a long moment, Stefan held up his glass. “So, looks like I finally got you to have that drink with me.”
Liv glanced around at the empty rooftop. “Yes. It wasn’t how I expected, but it totally works.”
“And this wedding you have to attend…”
Liv gave him a skeptical expression. “What about it?”
“Will you need a date?” he asked.
Liv swallowed the rest of her drink, feeling her stomach warm. “I think we both know you phrased that sentence completely wrong.”
Stefan blinked at her, confused. “Will you need someone to accompany you?” he tried again.
“I don’t need anyone tagging along with me ever, Warrior Ludwig,” she said at once.
He nodded, realizing his mistake. “Right. Of course. But if you find yourself wanting a partner in crime for the lavish affair, I would consider attending as your guest.”
Liv was about to open her mouth to protest when Stefan held up his hand to pause her. “But please note that I’ll mouth off to every fae who stands too close, subtly make fun of the king with jokes that soar over his head, and in so many words, encourage his bride to never breed with him.”
Damn it to hell, Liv thought, narrowing her eyes at the man before her.
“What? Did I say something wrong?” Stefan asked, worry springing to his features.
She shook her head. “No, just the opposite. Wash your hands, and you can go to the wedding with me.”
He winked. “You’ve got yourself a date.”
Chapter Twenty
By the time Papa Creola ponied up the information on where to find Foggerbottom, the chicken had passed out and she and Stefan had finished two bottles of high-end whiskey.
“It’s about damn time,” she’d replied to Father Time.
“Timing is everything, actually,” the gnome replied.
“I have the decree. I don’t have to worry about timing my request to Foggerbottom.”
“I was referring to the events that happened on the rooftop in Las Vegas,” Papa Creola stated.
Liv scowled at the screen. Of course, that gnome knew what had happened at the bar with the elf and Stefan. He seemed to have his hand in a lot of things.
“So you delayed sending me Foggerbottom’s location so I could almost get killed by an elf?” Liv asked, the whiskey making her feel a bit sassier than usual. That probably wasn’t a good thing since she was texting with a pretty important man. Maybe the most important man on Earth.
“No, I delayed so that you could be saved,” he replied.
“You’re meddling in affairs that don’t involve you.”
Papa Creola’s reply came immediately. “EVERYTHING INVOLVES ME.”
Liv sighed. Now wasn’t the time to tell her new boss that he was coming across like an overbearing dictator.
Another message came through as she considered sending this message. “Phillippe Foggerbottom is on break, but will be at his post in six minutes and thirty-four seconds.”
“Can you be more specific?” Liv asked, giggling to herself.
When Father Time didn’t respond to what she had thought was a delightful joke, Liv created the portal, double-checking the location he’d given her for Foggerbottom. She wasn’t drunk, but stepping through the portal into the airport in Frankfurt, Germany felt a bit like walking on the deck of a boat. She glanced down to ensure that the floor wasn’t moving under her feet.
No, the tiled floor in the busy airport was still, although the people jostling by were moving like waves in the ocean.
Glancing around, Liv looked for signs to direct her. Thankfully, she didn’t have to take a flight to find this Foggerbottom, but where she had to venture in the airport was almost more unpleasant than sitting next to some bloke who thought he owned the armrest between them on a plane.
Since Liv had time to spare, she stopped by the restroom. For a full minute, she stared around the stall, trying to decide what to do with the sleeping chicken. Setting it on the dirty airport bathroom floor seemed wrong, and that was when Liv noticed the changing table. She wasn’t sure what was worse, putting the chicken on the floor or a surface where babies have their butts wiped.
Once she was done with her business, she was unsurprised to find that the chicken hadn’t woken up. She left it on the changing table while she washed her hands, which wasn’t the most straightforward process in the world. The automatic soap dispenser didn’t want to work until she pulled her hand back, thinking it was empty. Then it spat soap all over the countertop. She ended up using magic to make the dispenser work correctly. “You’re welcome, Frankfurt airport,” Liv said to herself as she tried to figure out how the blower worked. She kept running her hand over the sensors, wondering what she was missing.
A woman entered with a toddler in tow just as the blower blew lukewarm air into Liv’s face, not at all in the direction of her hands. She zapped it, fixing the device so that it worked more efficiently.
“Hier ist ein Huhn drin!” the woman yelled from the stall Liv had just abandoned.
Although Liv didn’t speak German, she was pretty sure the lady was screaming about the chicken. “Oh, sorry. That’s my bird,” she said in a rush, dashing through the open stall and grabbing Scientist.
&nb
sp; The woman didn’t appear amused as Liv backed away, lifting the chicken’s clawed foot and making it wave at her and the toddler.
“Some people can’t take a joke,” Liv related to the sleeping bird.
The line for the Customs for non-German citizens was extraordinarily long, snaking through a giant room filled with irritable security guards. Liv stood on her tiptoes, trying to search for her guy. Right on cue, Phillippe Foggerbottom took the desk at the line for German citizens, which had zero people in it.
“Easy-peasy,” Liv said, striding past all the grumpy tourists and making her way to the Customs agent, who was reviewing some documents in front of him.
“Mr. Foggerbottom,” Liv said, noticing that the Customs agent was an attractive fae like most, with his dark hair and strong features. His wings were, of course, glamoured so no one could see them. His personality must have been too as he stared at the report.
“German passport,” he said without glancing up.
“I’m actually a United States citizen,” Liv said as others watched her with curiosity.
He huffed. “Then you go over to the line there.” Foggerbottom pointed to the mile-long line beside them.
“Yes, but I’m actually in a hurry and need your help,” Liv explained.
“So you cut the line, did you?”
Liv glanced behind her. “Well, there isn’t anyone in this line presently.”
“But did you ask all those in the other line if you could bypass them to get into a line where you don’t belong?” Foggerbottom asked.
“I guess I can delay my mission to save the space-time continuum and go do that real quickly,” Liv said, her tone laden with sarcasm.
Not picking up on her humor, Foggerbottom nodded, pulling his report up to cover his face. “Yes, do that.”
Liv expected the fae to laugh and tell her he was kidding. When he didn’t, she cleared her throat to get his attention. “Mr. Foggerbottom, I’m here because I need your help.”