by Al K. Line
I made coffee, no sign of George at this ungodly hour, then went out and drank it in the courtyard as I watched the chickens run around after letting them out. Foxes were always an issue so we locked them in for the night if we remembered. Marjorie moaned from the barn so I fed and watered her but she kept twitching her ears and she didn't look too happy. She was getting on in years now and needed regular exercise to keep her joints moving. I knew exactly how she felt.
"Come on, old gal," I whispered into her pointed ear and it twitched as I led her out into the sunshine.
For ten minutes we chatted about the weather and what surprises the day would bring, but it was one-sided as always and she seemed lethargic. Normally she became frisky once she got into her stride but she was sluggish and her heart just wasn't in it. I couldn't imagine life without her. She was part of the farm, part of our lives, and I hoped she lived for many more years.
"Let's get you inside." I led her back and she was happy to go. In the barn I spread straw and kept the top half of the barn door open so she could do what she enjoyed most in the whole world—stare out at the comings and goings and the chickens as they pecked in the dirt.
By seven all chores were done and breakfast was finishing frying. George, with her food radar on high alert, appeared just as I was plating up, and sat with a grunt, sipping her coffee.
It was nice. It was perfect actually. Me and my daughter, still getting to know each other even though she'd been with me for two years now. We often said no more than two words to each other over breakfast, both of us enjoying the quiet and the slow rise to life as coffee and eggs and bacon worked their magic. Today was no different.
I cleaned up, not risking it by leaving it to her, and then asked, "What you doing today?"
"Got lessons this morning then Sasha's taking me off somewhere this afternoon."
"You're spending a lot of time with her," I noted.
"I like her. You do too."
"I know, but be careful. She isn't like us, George. Fae are strange, and dangerous, and..." I looked around just in case, as Sasha had a habit of appearing when you least wanted her to. "Sneaky, manipulative, dangerous."
"You already said dangerous." George brushed her beautiful hair behind her ears and frowned. "She looks out for me. I think she's taken me under her wing or something."
"She is my faery godmother, so she's yours too. Just be careful. There's something happening, I'm sure of it."
"Okay, old man, don't get your y-fronts in a twist." George stood and said, "I'm going to shower. When you leaving?"
"In a minute. I'll try to get back for dinner, but I get the feeling this will be a long, weird day."
"Where do you start? How will you find this Avisha?"
"I have absolutely no bloody idea."
George wandered toward the hall with a wave over her shoulder but I said, "Ahem, aren't you forgetting something?"
She turned and scrunched up her nose. "Dad, come on. I'm a big girl, not a little sprog."
"Don't care. I told you, I've got a lot of catching up to do. I promise not to embarrass you in public, but when we're alone..." I held out my arms and smiled.
"Fine," George sighed but she smiled and came to me. We hugged and she gave me a kiss and I did the same. Then she said something that made me feel so damn happy I thought I'd burst.
"You never embarrass me. I think you're great." She blushed then hurried off.
"I think you're great too."
Gangster Time
The Slug had gone by the time I got to Vicky's and I could tell by her efficient mom-ness that things were the same. No major upsets beyond the usual, probably him not even knowing she'd been out late with me, or not caring if she had.
I'd always thought it odd he knew about me but we'd never said more than hello and goodbye to each other. It was enough for me to know what kind of bloke he was, but I guess that was because I'd allowed myself to be biased by Vicky. After all, she was my friend, not him. Still, you'd think a man would want to know the guy his wife hung out with so often, who snuck into his basement at night and got her to do illegal stuff on the internet. Although he probably didn't know about that, so maybe I was being unduly judgmental.
Vicky bustled about putting packed lunches in backpacks and getting the girls to hurry and then we were off in her Prius doing the school run.
"What is that ungodly noise?" I asked, turning to the two adorable monsters in the back as they wailed—although they called it singing—along to some nasty cacophony emanating from the stereo.
"You are so past it," said Tweedledum.
"Like a million years old. Did they have music when you were a boy, Uncle Arthur?" asked Tweedledee.
"You cheeky little monkeys." I laughed as they giggled. Ah, to be young again and be able to insult your elders without fear of consequence. Not that I ever had, because there were always consequences. "Actually, when I was younger, your mum too, we had cassettes with our music on." I turned back to the girls but got blank stares. "Damn, now I really do feel old."
"Did you put them into your computer?" asked Monster Number One.
"We didn't have computers."
Mouths gaped open, brains worked overtime, and they struggled for words.
"How did you play games? How did you do your homework without the internet? What about talking with your friends?"
"We played games outside. We had to read books to do our homework, and if I wanted to talk to my friends I'd go and knock on their door and ask if they wanted to come out to play."
"What, go to their house?" asked Monster Number Two.
"You didn't even call them on the phone?"
"No, there were no mobile phones then, and the house phone was connected to its base by a cable, and was in the kitchen so you couldn't talk in private. Plus I wasn't allowed to use it as it was for adults only."
"Haha, you're teasing us."
"Wish I was, kiddo."
As the girls processed what it must have been like living when dinosaurs roamed the earth, I wondered myself about how much things had changed. Everything was simpler back then, but I wouldn't swap it for the benefits of the technological age. I wasn't tech savvy but I could find my way around the web if need be, I just chose not to as I never found the time. But Vicky, she would be lost without her virtual escape.
"We're here," said Vicky, pulling up at the busy drop-off point.
We piled out and Vicky fussed about getting the girls' coats on and loading them up with their backpacks and other bags. Poor things were laden down and they were only youngsters. When I went to school at their age we had a couple of books and our shorts and vests if it was gym class that day, now it seemed like they were expected to do homework every night and carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Whatever happened to just being able to go to school, play with your mates, learn a little, then forget about it when the school day was over?
"Bye, Uncle Arthur," said one sprog.
"Kiss," said the other sprog, standing on tiptoe. I bent and she hugged me and gave me a kiss. "Ugh, bristly." She wiped her mouth and then laughed. "It tickles."
"Maybe when you're older you can grow a beard just like mine," I said, tickling them both.
"Don't be silly, girls can't grow beards." They frowned and thought for a moment, then said, "Can they, Mommy?"
"Only if they keep being late for school," said Vicky, and with more kisses and lots of waving goodbye the girls ran into the playground to join their friends just as the bell rang.
"Right," said Vicky, "let's go bash heads."
"Vicky!"
"What? After what Ivan told you, you don't want to crack some skulls?"
My perfect mom sidekick was disturbing when she was like this, but I guess her single-mindedness was why she had such perfect children—once she wanted something she'd let nothing stand in her way. Not even lowlife gangsters. "You can't say things like that here. What about the children?"
"They
can't hear."
"It still seems wrong." And it did. Like we were tainting the pure air with our corrupted hearts.
But I still intended to crack plenty of heads. It was what I did best when I wasn't running away or getting my own skull whacked with one heavy implement or another.
"Where to first?"
"We're going for a coffee."
Oh, Candy
Things must have been percolating in my mind through the night, although I had no conscious memory of trying to figure out how to get the search started for a girl who had gone missing over thirty-five years ago. Ivan had said he spoke to her once a year for the first few years, but then it was just pictures, then nothing.
He was no help with what she'd look like now, but he was certain she was still alive. I didn't push him as to how, as shifters and those involved with magic often have a sense for these things. Familial bonds can be so close that there's a deep connection and you know when something is wrong. He was convinced she lived, would never have stayed with Merrick otherwise, but in the end it hadn't stopped him. He'd finally seen a way out and took it. Now I had to find her before it was too late.
The whole thing had more questions than answers, first being why the hell would Merrick, and his father before him, have bothered? Why keep her hidden away, locked up for so long? It would have meant someone watching her, guarding her, caring for her for so many years. It was stupid. Why not kill her and have done with it? They had the boy and could have easily molded him to their will.
It was something else. But what?
Why would you keep a girl locked up for so many years? He was a kid himself, would have obeyed anyway. Why did they stop letting him talk to her? He'd said it was always a short call and with a lot of background noise, but as they got older it had stopped, just an occasional grainy picture then nothing but promises she was alive. What a hellish way to live.
Why go to all that trouble?
Were they using her for something? Were they making her do things with the promise they would keep Ivan alive if she towed the line? Playing one off against the other until they couldn't be bothered with the yearly ritual when they became complacent, confident each sibling would do as they were told for fear of losing the other?
Was she in another part of the country, the world, working for a different boss, helping run a city like Ivan had been when he was Brains? Or was she dead long ago and they'd strung him along with calls to an impostor and photos of a girl who, let's face it, could have been anyone and he'd have believed it was her. Why? Because he wanted to.
Guess I'd find out.
What my subconscious had settled on was the shifter angle. She was a therianthrope same as Ivan, and although he'd had nothing to do with the shifter community, and my guess was only now had revealed himself to them, there may be clues to be found within the community. If not there may have been answers, some help for getting to understand this mysterious woman and what life must be like for the shifter.
We entered the cafe but it was deserted as usual. How Candy made any money was beyond me. But I guess business would pick up once the stores were open. Nobody came into the city center until then, and shoppers always wanted a drink, even if it was usually at a chain place so they could have free wifi.
"How's my favorite cafe owner?" I asked as Candy clattered about with her back to us. She'd seen us coming in but was ignoring us on purpose. Maybe she was trying to resist my charms. She'd come around soon enough.
"What can I get you?" she asked without turning.
Vicky must have caught the slight croak same as me and we exchanged a glance.
"Are you okay?" asked Vicky in her best "Mommy will make it all better" voice.
"Fine, what'll it be?"
"One Americano, one fancy thing with lots of froth and sprinkles for Vicky."
"Coming right up. Take a seat."
I put some money down on the counter, telling her to keep the change. Then we took a table by the window, not that there were many other places to sit the cafe was so cramped.
"What's up with her?" I asked Vicky.
"How would I know?" she whispered back.
"You're a woman."
"Ah, so this is why," Vicky said, slapping her thigh.
"Why what?"
"Why you never get a date. It's because you're a complete idiot and don't know the first thing about women."
"You're only just realizing that?" I asked, not even joking.
"Why would I know what's wrong with her just because she's a woman?"
"Thought it might be a menstrual thing," I whispered, saying menstrual like I'd get beaten about the head if anyone heard me utter such a word.
"Arthur, what is wrong with you?"
"Oh, lots."
"Women don't all know when everyone's on their period. It may surprise you to know we don't all cry and go pathetic just because it's our time of the month. When's my period?"
"Um, dunno. How would I?"
"So, after all these years you don't know when mine is? You can't tell because I begin crying over kittens or breaking down and weeping if I lose something or forget to clean the house?"
"No, you're like that all the time, it's your default setting. That's why women confuse me so much, I figured they were all like you."
Vicky batted my cheek and I let her. It made her feel better when she knew I was right.
Candy came over at that point and without catching our eye she put the drinks down and said, "Here we are," and smiled weakly at the air between us.
"Sit down, please," I asked in my nicest, most polite and gentlemanly voice.
"I'm busy."
"No, you aren't."
"Am."
"Please, Candy, this is important and you look like you need to sit down anyway," said Vicky.
Candy paused for a moment then practically fell into the chair with her back to the window. Seeing her face properly for the first time was proof enough that she was in a bad way. Her perfect skin was blotchy, her eyes were puffy, and although there were no tears it was obvious she'd been crying.
"What happened?" I asked, concerned. I'd grown to like her, even if she had broken my feather, tried to bash my head in, and had been rude more than once. She was a good person though, and we had a thing, I was sure. Not a jump into bed thing, more's the pity, as I was much older and she was much prettier and firmer, but still, there was chemistry. Unless I'd read it wrong. Guess there was a first for everything.
"Don't wanna talk about it." Candy glanced at each of us quickly then looked away. She had one intense stare. She was serious, we weren't to ask again.
"Okay. Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"If you were a wolf-shifter, a once a month kind of deal, and you were taken away from your family by bad men, and they kept you a prisoner for decades, what are the chances of you being alive?"
"Depends how good you are at fighting I guess."
"Dammit, of course!" I slammed my hand down on the table, spilling coffee. "That's it, that's it." I jumped up, took Candy's head in my hands, and lay a real wet one on her.
The room went silent, Candy went stiff, Vicky gasped, and I blushed. I released her quickly, sidestepped away, expecting to be hit, but Candy didn't try to eviscerate me so I sat back down.
"Sorry, sorry, got carried away."
"You dirty old man," said Candy, scowling. But then she smiled a little, and cute dimples appeared at her cheeks. Then she was laughing, rather too intensely, like a release of tension and this was a way to let it out without screaming. It verged on hysterical and then faded, clearing the air as it did so.
"Better?" I asked.
"Better," she agreed. "Sorry, you made me realize I don't have it so bad. So, who are we talking about here? And don't get any more funny ideas. If I want you to kiss me I'll ask."
"I'm ready any time you are," I said, smiling back at her.
"If you two have stopped flirting can we get back to business?" ask
ed Vicky, annoyed at being left out.
"Since when were you the one in a hurry?"
"Since I have to pick the girls up at three-thirty," she said glumly, knowing there was no chance in hell she'd be around for the best bits.
"Then let's get this show on the road," I said, all mirth gone as Candy's words struck home, the reality sinking in.
"What's all this about, Arthur?" asked Candy.
"I can't say much, but here's what I can tell you..."
More Questions Than Answers
"That's awful," she said when I'd finished recounting the story. I mentioned no names, left out a few details, but the link to Ivan was fairly obvious if you thought about it. Unless there were lots of shifters tied to the moon, but I didn't think it was as common as merely being born with the ability to shift into an animal and be taken over by that nature.
"It is," I agreed. "Are there lots? Therianthropes?"
"More than you'd think. More than anyone knows about. They're different to regular shifters, smarter for one. But they give off a different scent, aren't so easy to discover. When it's a regular day they seem human, you can't get a whiff of them. It's only right before they can change that you know what they are."
"But for shifters like you and Steve you could tell just by meeting each other that you're shifters?"
"Ha, I could smell him a mile off. He gives off a pretty intense scent in case you hadn't noticed." Candy turned to Vicky and she blushed slightly—Vicky knew all about the way Steve affected her. She may not have been able to tell what he was, but she knew he was powerful and he dripped sex appeal. It coated him like sex sweat.
"Okay, so it's not easy to find one. If the shifter community doesn't know about one of these once-a-months then you can't just hunt around until you find her?"
"Afraid not, no."
"Right. Now back to the fighting. You said maybe she'd have survived if she was one hell of a fighter."
"I wasn't thinking about what you're thinking about. I meant if she was tough, could put up with being taken because she could change. That's a lot for a person to deal with, especially without her own kind to explain things to her. She'd have to be very strong."