by J. L. Ray
“Well,” and he looked at Tony and grimaced an apology, “since this last case, we know that Tony here ain’t just your average Mundane. In fact, she’s got some Fairie blood in her. So—“
Azeem interrupted, “The Tempo reacted differently to her.” He turned to Tony, “Are you all right? Are you having any...” he paused and looked at Baz surreptitiously, “symptoms?”
Tony managed not to roll her eyes. She was going to have to let Baz in on her dirty little secret before her coworkers’ attempts at protecting her made it all sound worse than it was. She probably should tell them about the vertigo episode. She should tell them, but not tonight. She had a date to get to, one that was long overdue.
“I didn’t have any premonitions,” she said truthfully and added, “and no Visions either.”
Azeem looked at her, giving her the impression that he realized that she might be dodging. She put on her best all-American girl-next-door look, and he chuffed and broke eye contact.
“Oh, sir, I did mention the Cadillac,” Tony told Azeem.
“When did you do that?” Baz asked.
“When we were finishing up. I asked Gandalf the drama queen if I could make up for the lack of kitsch exchange this time with something special.”
“Did he take the bait?” Azeem asked her.
“We’re supposed to talk tomorrow.” Tony shook her head. “But if the Sutherlands and cousin Randy are in the wind, well, that’s gonna make it a harder proposition, isn’t it?”
Azeem nodded. “We will see if we can pick up the Sutherlands. I’ll evaluate your reports and decide whether it is safe to continue with the operation at all.” He nodded to Cal. “You are welcome to come by to consult, but I do want you to spend time with Newman.” Then he turned to Tony and Baz, “I’ll expect you both in the morning?” They nodded, and he looked at Tony again, giving her the feeling that he had known all along exactly who had been in that locker room shower. “I suggest an early night and plenty of rest, Detectives.” Since she had walked in wearing a sweet little navy cocktail dress and heels that she kept in her locker for dating emergencies, as rare as those were, she decided to assume he only knew that she was going out, but not with whom. Why assume her detective boss and Phil’s old friend could put one and one together and come up with a grand total of two? Much better to play it cool and hope for the best.
Chapter Eight
Phil looked up as Tony came through the door to the intake area where he was chatting with Sergeant Hubbard about the proper technique for changing the diapers of boys of any species. The sergeant was doing her best to school him. But once Tony arrived, she could have been telling him the secret to capturing leprechaun gold (which he actually knew already, having set them up in the first place in Mundania), and he’d never have noticed. Tony’s dress, the first he’d ever seen her in, shimmered darkly, its rich navy color contrasting with the bronze pumps she wore. She wore bronze bracelets which the short sleeves showed to advantage, while the high, banded waist and short skirt made her legs look longer than normal.
“You might want to close your mouth, demon,” the sergeant whispered kindly. “You’re catching flies, as my old mama used to say.”
“Uh huh,” Phil mumbled, walking over to take Tony’s hand. “You are stunning,” he told her reverently.
Tony grinned, “I don’t dare go out with you without pulling out the big guns. Otherwise someone will think I’m your assistant instead of your date.”
“I will assume that that is a compliment.” He twirled her around. “French Connection?” he asked concerning the dress’s make.
Tony just smiled. Then she turned to the sergeant, who was still watching Newman for Cal. “How’s the little man doing?” She seemed to be speaking to both, and both answered.
Newman made loud, happy gurgling noises, and Hubbard smiled and added, “He’s been teaching your date a few tricks.”
“Apparently!” Tony laughed and leaned over to tickle Newman. Phil just managed to keep himself from stopping her, worried she might be the recipient of some further liquid expulsion from the ogre spawn. Tony couldn’t just change her clothes. Of course, she could, but the dress would be ruined, not magically recycled. Luckily, Newman stuck to blowing little bubbles and burbling. Tony grinned at Phil, and then turned back to the baby. “I wish I had been here to see my date in action.”
Phil’s breath caught. He could almost feel his heart clench with joy. He was in big trouble with this one. He could tell. Very big trouble.
“Shall we go?” he said.
“Go where?”
“Where would you like to go?”
“You mentioned Oyamel...which is actually my favorite restaurant.”
Phil snapped his fingers. “Done.”
She looked at her watch. “Yeah, 9:00 should be past prime time, especially on Wednesday. We shouldn’t have to wait too long. Bye bye, Newman. See you again soon.”
Phil winked at Sergeant Hubbard as they strolled away. “I doubt we will have to wait very long.”
The sergeant rolled her eyes and grinned.
“Pssst.” The cloaked figure sitting in the driver’s seat of an ancient Pontiac Montana minivan jumped, then turned to look at the goblin face in his window.
“You Ah Toowl?” the goblin asked in a lisp.
“What?” the Being hissed. “My name is O’Toole.”
“You musth be the right guy. My contact thaid you were Ah Toowl,” the goblin snuffled a phlegmy laugh. “You got thomethin for uth, yeah?”
Nose in the air, O’Toole asked him, “What’s the password, cretin?”
The goblin laid one grimy finger to the side of its nose and said, “I don’t think the pathword ith cretin.”
“No, no, I mean you’re...” O’Toole looked at the goblin and realized the creature was making fun of him. “Tell me the password.”
“Right. It’th Dezthroyer.” The goblin thought for a minute. “Theems a bit overdramatic to me, mate.”
“It’s a reference to a Kiss album! Oh, never mind,” O’Toole muttered impatiently. When the goblin just stood there, he added, “What?”
“Whath the answer to the pathword, Ah Toowl?” the goblin was obviously enjoying this part.
“It’s Great Expectations,” O’Toole replied primly.
“Ith that a band, too, Ah Twool?”
O’Toole glared. “It’s a song.”
“Right. Well, I’ll justh hop in the pathenger thide and navigate to the drop, thall I?”
O’Toole hit the lock control and let the goblin in.
“My nameth Theo, by the way. I’m only half goblin.”
“Well, isn’t that lovely. Your mum must be proud.”
“Wouldn’t know, would I? Mum left me with, well, our mutual employer, when I were little, yeah?”
O’Toole kept silent, hoping that would be the end of any more sharing on the part of Theo, but his hopes were soon dashed.
“I heard you’re a ha’f breed, too. What are you? Witch and what elthe? Mundane?”
O’Toole hit the brakes and then turned to the goblin. “Watch your mouth, cretin.”
“I may be a lot o’ thingth, Ah Toowl,” he said as he deliberately continued to mispronounce the name, “but a cretin ain’t one of them. Mum might have been thupid enough to dump me, but our employer recognized my potenthial.”
“Well, my mum wasn’t stupid enough to dump me or my brother, so I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be rejected by my Mum.” He almost felt bad about that remark, but then Theo spoke and distracted him from guilt over his bad temper.
Theo laughed, “Think a lot o’ yourthelf, don’t ya? You’ll want to put your big boy britcheth on to meet Herthelf. Theth’s got big planth. You’ll want to make thure that you are in them.”
O’Toole tried to keep his face expressionless, but even he couldn’t stop from paling on hearing that he would meet Herself that night. Unfortunately, he was half Natty, and he had heard that the Mistress didn’t
care much for half-breed Mundanes. He was surprised that She would work with Theo. He hoped She didn’t know about his own heritage. He also hoped his actions would make him attractive to Her as a partner in moving merchandise. He desperately needed to increase his immediate cash flow, and reports of Her recent activities suggested that She could be the best source of reliable funds he had seen in years. Unfortunately, the funds might be more reliable than the Being offering them. He had thought Her firmly stuck in Fairie, but if the annoying goblin was right, somehow, She had managed to cross between the Realms. He didn’t fancy working directly with the creature, and he had a feeling his mum Pernella wouldn’t want him to either. He had told his mother as little as possible about the deal because Pernella knew too many of the witching community far too well. If he had told her too much, she’d have looked into matters on that side of the Divide. Knowing Mum, she’d have found some reason to say no. He’d had a bad feeling about this whole deal from the very beginning, but the desperation he felt over his family’s situation had trumped his instincts. They just had to get Bogey out of Fairie, and soon. As he drove, he wondered if there might be a good way to get out of his contract with Her. He very much feared there was not.
Phil led Tony to a red sports car. She didn’t recognize the make, but it looked sinfully expensive.
“What, no limo?” she asked Phil playfully.
He shrugged. “I like to drive myself sometimes, just to make sure I remember how to drive. It is one of my newer skills, like using the f-light, though that, at least, is more intuitive. I am glad I do not actually need one on a daily basis.”
Tony cocked her head in question. “Why is the f-light easier to use?”
“Fairy-lights use so much magic that, despite the technology of Mundania in them, they are truly an easy interface for magic-wielders.”
She frowned. “Baz seems to have a lot of trouble with it. Why is that?”
Phil’s face went still and cold. “Ah, Sebastian de Groot. Your new partner.”
Tony nodded. “Yeah. Working with Baz is temporary. Cal’s on family leave and Baz’s partner contracted PlaidPox.”
Phil looked a bit taken aback. “De Groot was exposed?”
“Weeks ago, but he had the immunization. Apparently, Detective Falk didn’t. So he’s on leave until it…” she grimaced and shivered, “y’know…falls off of him.” She looked at Phil, “So, why is it easy for you to use an f-light?”
“Fairy-lights are so much like using my own magic that it is no real problem to…” He paused, searching for a word. “To feel how it should work.”
“And that doesn’t translate for Baz?” Tony pushed. “Why not?”
Phil shrugged, “He is a magic-holder, not a magic-wielder. He has no intuitive, working knowledge of using magic. He is magic.”
He had the haughty look on his face that Tony disliked, as if he smelled something bad or had wandered into the Wal-Mart men’s department by accident and didn’t quite understand how he had gotten there or what he was looking at. She wanted her Phil back, not Mephistopheles. “So, what kind of car is this?”
He smiled at the change of topic and then looked embarrassed and mumbled an answer.
“What?” Tony poked at her ear. “I must still have a dead bug in my ear or something. I didn’t get that. Speak up!”
He sighed. “It is an Aston Martin.”
“Oooooh. No wonder you mumbled. So, y’gonna order martinis tonight? Shaken, not stirred,” she added in a mock British accent.
Phil shook his head and opened the door to the low-slung car. “I like its style.” He grinned as he watched her try to figure out how to get into the car without flashing just a hell of a lot of everything. “I also like the style of that dress.”
Finally, she shrugged and simply got in. “I guess it’s not like you haven’t seen the whole enchilada already,” she muttered.
He leaned in to shut the door. “I love enchiladas.”
She snorted and shook her head as he walked around to the driver’s door and slid in. “Good luck finding parking downtown. You might have been better off with the limo.”
“Ah, but then we would have had Windle and Dindle commenting on our every move for the entire evening. And I may have mentioned, there are some monetary bets out there concerning our...relationship. It is my belief that those two are at the root of it all, since they are most likely to have the best information on our every move.”
“Little traitors!”
“Exactly. Though I believe they prefer the term entrepreneurs.” He turned to her with a smile. “For the sake of privacy, we travel solo tonight.”
A few minutes drive had them parked near Oyamel. Although it was Wednesday night, even at 9:00, the restaurant was still busy. However, as soon as Phil spoke to the hostess, she seated them immediately. And not just any seat—the only really private table, one in a window, one that should have had at least four to six customers. After the very pretty young woman left them the evening’s menu, Tony looked over at Phil. “How did you manage that? Did you bet I’d go with Oyamel?”
Phil shrugged. “Client-demon privilege. I cannot talk about the...circumstances. Suffice it to say that there is not a single restaurant in this city that would make me wait for a table.”
“Cocky, aren’t you?”
“I prefer assured. Besides, it is simple truth. And my dear, when I said ‘this city,’ I could have said, ‘any major city in the continental United States’.”
“What? Not Alaska and Hawaii?” Tony asked him mockingly.
“Hawaii, definitely. Alaska, probably not. That state...” He shook his head. “Alaskans are a breed apart from all other Natties I have ever met. I have done very few...requests for anyone in Alaska.”
At that point, the waiter showed up with Oyamel’s signature basket of freshly made tortilla chips dusted in chili powder and a dish of their fire-roasted salsa, and Tony almost whimpered in joy, which had Phil smiling into his newly delivered margarita. The two sampled several rounds of tapas orders and tasted from each other’s orders. Finally, when the dessert menu came, Tony ordered the Café de Olla Postre, a sweet dish that combined coffee, chocolate, caramel and cinnamon flavors and left her scraping the last bits as if her life depended on a clean plate. Phil had taken a few bites, but stopped and simply enjoyed watching her eat when he realized just how much she liked that particular dessert.
“If you wish to lick the bowl, I can make sure only I see,” Phil told her, his grin wicked.
She rolled her eyes and stopped scraping. “I can always come back for more.”
“Indeed. What interesting food.” Phil sounded surprised.
“This wasn’t your first time here, was it?” Tony asked him.
“Yes, actually, it was. I have not been living in Washington for very long.”
“But you still had an in with the hostess?”
“My dear Tony, I have an ‘in’ with many people. It is why so many know my name, yet do not wish to see me.”
“That’s got to be lonely.”
Phil smiled into her eyes and shrugged. “It has its moments.”
“Is that why you took on Monster-Mate? To alleviate loneliness?”
Phil looked down at the table and shook his head. Then he looked directly in her eyes. “You try to make me a better creature than I am. You do remember that I got my job in the same way most predators in this brave new world got their jobs—the Geas insists that I do something to make up for my past sins.”
Tony stared at him. “Has it occurred to you that while making up for your sins, it also adds value to your life? Monster-Mate helps some Beings find happiness.”
Phil looked over at her side of the table. “How many margaritas did you drink, Detective?” His snark took her by surprise.
“Excuse me?”
Phil shrugged again. “You seem to see good intentions everywhere you look. I may have to dance to the tune of the Geas, but that does not mean I am no longer myself.”
Tony glared at him. “And I may be a police detective, but that doesn’t mean I have to believe that all Beings are corrupt and selfish. I think everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. Take Baz.” She snorted thinking of their rocky start followed by better understanding through the power of music. Before she could explain that, Phil interrupted.
“Indeed, let us take Detective de Groot. Now there is an interesting story.” He paused, picking up his glass and holding it up to look at the dregs of his last margarita.
“What?” Tony asked him, confused by the interruption.
“How did you end up working with de Groot?” Phil asked.
“How do I end up doing anything like that at work? The Lieutenant assigned us to a case,” Tony told him matter-of-factly.
“Really? I find it interesting that my old friend Azeem assigned you to work closely with someone who considers himself my enemy. I find that very interesting indeed.”
Phil’s tone irritated her. “What?” Tony asked, then listening to herself, decided that two margaritas was one too many. “I mean, what the hell is your problem, Phil? There are only six of us working as detectives in the SCIB in this city. Odds are, I would have worked a case with Baz eventually. And what do you mean, your enemy?”
“Your ‘husband’ would kill me if he were not well aware of the effect of the Geas,” Phil told her calmly.
She looked at him, and then shook her head. “You’re going to have to tell me more than that if I’m going to be able to understand why you’re so upset.”
For a moment there was complete silence.
“What if I asked you to tell Azeem that you need those two weeks of leave, that you cannot continue with this case?” Phil didn’t make eye contact, as if he knew that asking the question was far beyond his rights, yet he couldn’t help it.
“I’d say you’d have to give me a much better idea of why it is so upsetting to you that it justifies pulling out of an undercover op. They can’t just replace me, Phil. I’ve met our Mundane contact. I got in the Being’s face, or at least I got into what I could see of it. I met the contacts in Fairie. If I don’t go, it’ll be a hard sell, and I’m not sure that Baz is up to it on his own.”