The Leira Chronicles- The Complete Austin Series

by Martha Carr

  Hagan held up his hand counting off the different groups vying for artifacts, or seeds, or animals. “You have the different governments on this planet. It is just this planet, right?”

  “Far as I know. Other side has magic. They want technology.”

  “We’re part of the government groups. Then there’s the different corporations from different parts of the world, and some of those have joined forces with each other. Have to figure that some of them will do a little back channel dealing and cheat each other out of something, so that’ll probably shift. Then, there’s the… what’d you call them… scavengers? In the good old days at the precinct we called those thieves. Much easier. Those are from Oriceran.”

  “You’re right on track. There aren’t many scavengers. Not many good ones anyway. It’s only one that I can think of who’s good enough to get there ahead of us.” Leira bit down hard on a taco just thinking about being inches from the drum as the portal closed on Louie’s smiling face.

  “What did that taco do to you? Okay, those are the players we know of but that doesn’t mean we’ve seen them all, or does it?”

  “I’d say no, it doesn’t and only because so much is at stake. But I can’t get over the feeling that somehow all of it is connected. Don’t know if it’s a person or a goal.”

  “Let’s put that aside for now and look at this thing like two old detectives. At least one of us qualifies for that distinction.” Hagan sat forward, pushing his tie down in front of him and brushing away the bits of shredded lettuce on the table. He took a quick sip of his coffee and put his hands on the table. “Way I see this is we go at it from the angle of what the thieves want. All of them. And we cut off their supply.”

  “Had the same thought.” Leira held up her hand for the waitress.

  “I miss those days,” Hagan said, wistfully. “Eat what you want, burn it all off. Now, I settle for living vicariously through you.”

  “You still eat as much as I do.”

  “True. It’s my boyish figure I miss. Managed to lose a few pounds walking with Rose every night I can. That doesn’t even feel like exercise.”

  Leira gave a crooked smile and looked at her old partner. “You’re a good guy, Hagan.”

  “Don’t start with the emotional crap. We’ve managed to have a very nice thing going here for years now. Back yourself up and eat your taco. Magic has given you a soft chewy middle.”

  “You’re comparing me to a Tootsie Pop.”

  The waitress came up, her pad already out. “What’ll it be? The usual?”

  Hagan looked at Leira. “Been short order cheating on me?”

  “I do occasionally get really nice fast food without you.” Leira looked up at the waitress and smiled.

  “Doesn’t hurt my feelings honey. Food is good, don’t need to get you to agree with me. Speak up, day is moving along!”

  “Four more tacos, all beef, cheddar on two, feta on the others, hot salsa on the feta.” Leira wiped her mouth with a small paper napkin.

  “The usual plus two regulars. You got it!” The waitress was gone, off to give another table water.

  “Two of those are for you. While we can, we should just enjoy the moment and sit here and eat at a table like real people.” Leira shook hot sauce on the last bite.

  “Way I see it, a lot of this is a human problem. Greed. We look at what they’re after and do a cost benefit analysis. What’s easiest to get to and then head there first. Just so happens, I’ve been tinkering around with just that. Turns out I may have a knack for this world domination business.” Hagan pulled out his iPad and opened an Excel spreadsheet.

  “Okay, I’m a little impressed.”

  Hagan looked up from the screen, an eyebrow cocked. “I’m with the online shit. I know my way around a Google doc. What? You’ve seen me fill out more than one report and we’ve been using those laptops in squad cars for years.”

  “I also know you still have a landline and an AOL account. I know you can do it, I was thinking you had a thing about old school. I kind of expected you to pull out a notebook.”

  “That’s not old school. It’s more like inertia. Well, some of it. I like having a landline. Always know where to find the phone. You drop a six-hundred-dollar phone just once in a gas station urinal and suddenly a twenty-dollar cordless looks pretty good.”

  Leira made a face. “Good thing those tacos won’t be ready for another couple of minutes. And I’m going to spend that time thinking of anything else.”

  “I got lucky. It landed on the urinal cake.”

  “Define lucky for me.”

  Hagan gave a shrug and put up his hands. “It didn’t get wet. Just a little damp on one side. Seemed like a win.”

  “Suddenly I really want to talk about hunting bad guys and morphing animals into bio-robots. Remind me to never use your phone.”

  “You should have seen some of the pay phones back in the day. Woof! Okay, look at this spreadsheet.” Hagan scooted his chair closer to Leira, showing her the screen. “These are all the players we know about and these are all the places on Earth that have something they want.”

  “Kind of covers the globe, doesn’t it? Look how connected we all are.” Leira quickly scanned the chart, amazed.

  “Here’s the cost of mounting a search, probability of finding a prize. Dammit.” Hagan jostled a bottle of sriracha sauce, tipping it over and leaving a dotted trail across his iPad. He dabbed it with a napkin and licked his finger, wiping away the rest.

  Leira raised her eyebrows, giving her head a quick shake. “Don’t ever change.” She pointed at the screen. “I see you put the food chain in its own section.”

  “Yeah, the crops are a little harder to calculate. Their supply line goes to Oriceran where things get dicey to calculate. We’d have to reverse the strategy for that one and cut off where they can sell it.”

  “Finding something else they want and bargaining for it may work better.” Leira sat back. “We’re still missing something. I can feel it and it’s not magic talking. It’s that gut feeling from working with you. There’s a connection here.”

  “I’m flattered. A win for the human side of things.”

  “It’s going to take that kind of thinking to figure out the crime before it’s committed, which is what you’re talking about. Looking at the motivation doesn’t take magic. Takes reasoning. It’s a good idea.”

  The waitress brought over their order and put the tacos with feta and hot sauce in front of Leira.

  “Nice seeing you again, honey. Bring in that tall drink of water with you again, will you?” The waitress gave her a wink as she turned to help another table.

  “Correk’s Elven charm at work again. He makes an impression with the ladies, young and old.”

  “Ordinary slobs like me don’t stand a chance.” Hagan let out a grunt and scrolled to another page.

  “You, my friend, married up when you got Rose. There is no better.”

  “Very true, I am a happy man for the rest of my days if that’s the only good thing that ever happens to me. Look, we can’t find the connection, yet. We may not be able to stop the import from Oriceran of seeds. Remember kudzu? That weed covers a good part of the South these days. Grows over anything in its way. Houses, cars, even very tall trees look like they’re wearing a kudzu blanket. Wasn’t always our problem until one day somehow a little seedling came over on a ship from Japan. Same thing, good or bad is bound to happen but on a global scale.”

  “You may be right. It’s how to control everything so no one gets hurt and Oriceran isn’t plundered.”

  “That takes us right around to the place that makes the most sense to start. It makes your friend and his new sanctuary on Earth the place with the biggest target on its back right now.” Hagan tapped his screen. “Predictable, low risk so far, and a payoff toward some bigger goal that has given me nightmares since you told me about it. If some old rich guys are out there trying to make themselves into Robocops so they can live forever…” H
agan gave off a shudder. “Enough to put me off my feed.”

  “Longevity is my working theory but I’m not one hundred percent sold on it yet. Too many pieces of the puzzle are still missing.”

  “In the meantime, when duty calls we chase down what the boss asks us to go after, which means artifacts. At some point, it would behoove us to share all of this with the general. Sooner rather than later.”

  “The sanctuary on Earth belongs to the Gardener of the Dark Forest. Let’s hold off telling the world of its existence just yet. Doesn’t feel right.”

  “Alright, I’m going to trust you on this one, kid. But, you’re assuming that the general doesn’t already know and that this won’t come back and bite us squarely on the ass.”

  “I owe that much loyalty to Correk, too.”

  “Fair enough, we do a little good old-fashioned detective work and find out who’s got their eye on the sanctuary. See where it leads. Maybe it’s not all connected.”

  “Maybe…”

  “Come on, let’s roll by your place. I’ve never met a Wood Elf before and I have a little something for the short stack.” Hagan pulled out a small football with a string attached to it in a loop. “It’s really something to hang from a rearview mirror but the troll was asking me about football.”

  “You making a new friend, Hagan?”

  “I’m telling you, he grows on you when you’re not looking.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Hagan stopped by Barfly’s after leaving Leira’s guest house. The troll had loved his new tiny football even if he did lick it at first to see if it was food.

  Barfly’s was his favorite watering hole and home away from home. He walked up the steps under the long green awning, pausing at the doorway before turning left toward the bar. To the right there were old square wooden tables and round back chairs and at the far end of the room, two pool tables. He sat down at the bar, resting his feet against the faux wood paneling along the sides. Behind him was the wall with tin roofing all the way down the back covered in Heineken and Coors signs and one for Texas Kirin beer, along with chalk boards for specials and keeping track of pool games.

  There was a window set up at the end of the bar closest to the kitchen to take orders plastered over with large menus and notices about things going on around town. Almost every square inch was covered with something.

  The other side of the long, narrow room was exposed brick and overhead the same wood paneling matched the bar, creating the effect of a wooden box with neon ads for Rolling Rock and Bud Lite.

  There was nothing fancy about the place but the barbeque was some of the best around. It was the best kind of watering hole that only the locals had ever heard of and was just the way Hagan liked it.

  “Can I get a Bud in a bottle?”

  The wiry, tall bartender looked away from the football game on the ancient TV and silently pulled out a long-necked bottle from the cooler, opening it and placing it in front of Hagan without ever saying a word. He didn’t even need to make eye contact. No one ever made a point of seeing anything in Barfly’s.

  Hagan had been coming there since he became a homicide detective and had never told anyone about it, except Rose, of course. But she swore she’d take the secret to her grave. It was his one great secret in life and it gave him the chance to drink a beer in peace. Chasing after killers sometimes left Hagan with the need to unwind for an hour or two where he wouldn’t be disturbed. Hunting people who were intent on using magic to cause harm added another layer of stress.

  “Can I get a plate of barbeque and fries? Overcook the fries, will ya?”

  The bartender let out a grunt and gave a wave in Hagan’s direction to let him know he heard him, slowly wandering back toward the kitchen. His long, skinny brown ponytail was pulled back in an old green rubberband. Hagan heard the door open a few inches and swing shut again but when he looked over he didn’t see anything. “Texas wind should not be underestimated.” He took a long sip of his beer, letting the cold fizz pour down the back of his throat. First few sips are always the best.

  The cat who lived in the bar let out a squeal and a hiss and jumped down off the ledge where it was sleeping, hurrying toward the back where it could hide under an old pleather couch. Hagan leaned back from his stool to get a better look but still didn’t see anything. He turned back toward the bar and leaned forward, resting his arms on the bar and took another sip as the stool next to him moved on its own, making a scratching noise against the floor.

  Hagan slowly put the bottle of beer down, resting his hand on his gun wondering if that was a pointless exercise. Whatever it was, he was still going to take his shot. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, as he heard a soft trill. The troll peeked out from the bottom of the bar, wearing his leather jacket and red cowboy boots. He easily climbed the legs of the stool, bounding onto the bar. “Fuck me,” said Hagan, shaking his head. “How did you find me? You should consider taking up tracking felons. Yumfuck, bounty hunter.”

  The troll let out a cackle and sat down on the bar. “Evening motherfucker.”

  “We’re all friends here. You can call me Hagan. Only people in handcuffs need to call me motherfucker.”

  “Hagan it is,” chirped the troll.

  “You little shit. I knew you could talk.”

  “Oooooh, football.” The troll gazed up at the hazy picture on the TV.

  “You really have a thing for football. We may make a tiny Texan out of you yet. Who you rooting for?”

  “Cowboys, of course.”

  “Loyal, I like that.” Hagan smiled and held up his beer in a toast, taking a swig. “We’re on the thirty-yard line, first down with the ball and we’re ahead by nine. Not even done with the first half yet so this could go either way. Dak Prescott likes to run the ball but that’s a good way for a quarterback to get his bell rung by the defensive backs.”

  The bartender came walking back carrying a platter toward Hagan and only hesitated for a moment when he saw the troll in his leather jacket and boots sitting on the bar. He put down the platter and got a fork and knife out from below the bar, putting them on a long napkin and stood back. There was a grease stain across his maroon Electric Light Orchestra sweatshirt. “You want another beer?”

  Hagan looked up and saw the bartender was actually looking at him. Hagan held his gaze without looking at the troll. He was too tired and after all he had seen go down in the magical world, a small furry being in a little outfit didn’t seem like enough to get riled up about. “One more would be good.” He gave his best dead fish look as the bartender leaned down and got another beer from the cooler, never looking over at Yumfuck.

  As he wandered away, Hagan heard him mutter, “Seen just about everything. Gonna have to cut back to just drinking beer. I tell you, Austin is weird right down to its britches and drawers.” He stopped at the end of the bar and put a hand to his cheek, expertly spitting a brown stream of tobacco juice into a brass spittoon on the floor, leaning back against the back of the bar, going back to watching the game.

  Hagan slid the platter closer to Yumfuck. “I’m not going to go through the usual drama with you and try to keep you out of the food. How about I share and you don’t roll around on my plate. Deal?”

  The troll put up his tiny paw, smiling and Hagan shook it. “You want a fry? I like ‘em a little toasted. You’re just gonna have to live with that.” Hagan sprinkled vinegar over half the fries. “The plain ones can be yours and this half is mine.” He pulled the plate out of reach. “On one condition. You don’t breathe a word about this place to anyone. I want that on your honor as a troll. Not even Leira, your buddy.”

  The troll stood up and held up three fingers in the Boy Scout salute, solemnly nodding his head.

  “I’m not sure if that means the same thing with a troll but I’ll take it. You and me are pals even if we’re not stuck together for life. I have Rose for that, no offense.”

  “None taken,” squeaked the troll. He picked up a French fry t
hat was the same size as he was and slowly pushed it into his mouth, quickly biting as he pushed. “Yummmm…” He picked up another and repeated the process, quickly going through the fries.

  Hagan looked at the half empty fries and waved at the bartender. “We’re gonna need another plate of fries over here. Make it a large and cook em a little long.” No one ever said please in Barfly’s. It was a good way to get your ass kicked.

  The waiter looked back in their direction and shook his head. “Maybe just a beer with dinner would be good.” He made his way back to the kitchen, his skinny ponytail swinging between his shoulders.

  Hagan looked at Yumfuck as he took a heaping forkful of barbeque. “You ever miss seeing little people like you?” He swallowed the hot meat, keeping his mouth open to let out some of the steam.

  The troll shrugged. “The story’s not finished yet. I was born under a wandering star.”

  Hagan waggled his fork at the troll. “Not so fast. I know my country songs. Don’t pull that shit on me. Talk to me straight without the gimmicks or stick to the motherfuckers.”

  Yumfuck gave him the side eye, arching a tiny eyebrow. “Too much trouble afoot to be worrying about relations right now. This is better.”

  Hagan leaned toward the troll getting a smudge of barbeque on his tie. “You know there’s trouble coming? Do you know what it is?”

  The troll shook his head, a serious look on his face, his lips pressed together in a straight line. “There’s no treaty. No agreement. And no clear path to get everyone to agree. Difficult times ahead. Lots of motherfuckers.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “Aloha.”

  “You know what? I come to this joint to not talk about what’s out there. Let’s go back to football. You ever been in a fantasy football league? I bet you’d clean up. We should start one just between you and me. I’m sure there’s some kind of wager we can make.

  The troll was barely listening, licking his lips and staring at Hagan’s barbeque. Hagan looked up as the bartender came in carrying a tray. “More barbeque too.”