by Lily Silver
The brothers looked at her warily. Neither spoke for too long.
Finally, Mick took the lead, “we have various powers, little one. Riley has the gift of healing, and of poisons. If your husband has stakes or arrows made up, we can dip them in poison that can add an extra edge to the iron tips. I have the gift of glamoury, and I am a seasoned warrior among our kind. I wish Kerry were with us. Three fey males can form a strong defense. Like three pillars to buttress a bridge. Together we are stronger. Never forget that, dear one.”
Tara’s heart was melting at his endearments. Mick was no longer angry at her for her fear at Bellow’s apartment, it seemed. His arm slipped about her as she sidled closer to him, needing the comfort of an older brother. “And where is Kerry? Can we not call out to him and tell him where we are in time?”
“I know not how to do such a thing,” Mick replied sadly. “He left us centuries ago, in search for you. Like you, he can traverse time and translocate from one place to another.”
Odd man out, that was how she felt among the men and their planning. Odd woman out. They were still all stuck in that male-centric frame of mind that believed women should stay home and nurse the babies while they marched out to make war.
“I could translocate them, send them to another place. Or summon lightning, as you said I can do.”
Mick nodded, but didn’t comment further. He resumed his conversation with Riley, ignoring her as she stood listening to them.
After a while Tara grew tired of the testosterone gang and decided to leave them to their discussions. So much for being able to help. Why the hell were they so bent about keeping her out of the battle?
She returned to her apartment. Gisele was sitting in her night-robe on the sofa.
“Gisele,” Tara began, thinking of a plan as she sat down beside her friend. “We need your help with a little problem. My father and my husband are spies. Adrian works for Queen Victoria, and my father, well, he’s working for the United States government. We need to find a certain absinthe distillery, a new one. Do you have any admirers at your cabaret who are involved in government permits and business licenses?”
Gisele seemed startled by Tara’s quick lie. She also was taking the bait as excitement played over her features. “Yes, there is Etienne Marceau, but … I cannot go to the club now. That terrible Mr. Dupres will be there, the one who arranged my dismissal. He’ll be waiting for me, I fear. And he’s already sent his man around this morning to make me an official offer of his protection.”
“What a total prick he turned out to be. It’s a shame he’s probably some little kid’s grandpa.” The words flew from Tara’s lips before she could stop them. She sometimes forgot herself and spoke a profanity among the locals. In the future where she grew up men and women used swear words often in their speech. Not so here in the past. Well bred ladies were not supposed to talk like sailors. She’d taken some pretty hard looks of disgust in Adrian’s time due to her reckless speech. “I’m sorry.”
Gisele giggled. “No, you speak the truth. He is a bastard, as you say. A dirty cock.”
“I’ve news for you. You can go to the club. You don’t work there anymore. It’s not like they can throw you out if you go to be entertained.”
“No, but they could refuse me entrance.” Her lips smashed together and her dark brows lowered into tight squiggles. “Lady Dillon, I don’t think you should go there without your husband. Women of the lower ranks go to the clubs unescorted, but a woman such as you … it just would not be proper.”
“It’ll be fine. I promise. No one will bother you, because you will be with me.” Tara stood up and offered Gisele her hand to pull her up from the couch. “First, let’s get you dressed, and then we will find Marceau or some other government official to enchant so he will tell us where to find the dangerous distillery that is handing out poisoned absinthe.”
“Poison?” Gisele looked frightened by her words. “Lady Dillon, surely you do not mean to say that the exhibit at the exposition is selling poison?”
“Yes, just that. Come, Gisele. You can borrow one of my dresses. The men are concocting a scheme, and while they make plans to avert disaster, we will use our own secret weapons to gather information.”
“Our strength is that the dark ones do not know where we are lodging. That will protect us for now. I cannot promise how long hiding will be affective as a strategy.” Mick was addressing the group as the self-appointed leader. “We should go out with caution, and we must be very careful not to lead the dark ones here when we return. Tara should stay inside, hidden from their detection at all times. She is a valuable asset, as many clans have decreased their numbers and would take a fey female for breeding purposes.”
Adrian listened patiently. He was not so conceited that he felt he must be the one in charge. After all, he was out of his depth when it came to fighting fey warriors, and clearly Mick was not.
“They will have already discerned that we are in the area after they find their dead watcher. Our sigils on all the doors and windows should make our lair invisible to our adversaries, for the time being.”
Dan looked uncomfortable. He glanced at Adrian, and then cleared his throat. “Um, I forgot to mention something the other day. I was set upon when coming home from a friend’s house just before daybreak, and the young thugs who attacked me weren’t like human teenagers. They were … stronger. I don’t know how else to put it. They were different. Adrian chased them off, and then we walked home together.”
“Young darklings?” Riley murmured. “Why are they lurking in the neighborhood?”
“To create mischief, to prey upon the weak, that is their way,” Mick answered. “They have no respect for humanity. To them, humans are playthings. Their young are taught to taunt and bedevil humans from infancy. Perhaps an elder was training them in their sick sport.
“Yeah …” Dan started, and paused. He looked truly stricken.
Adrian didn’t understand his misgivings. The young thugs, be they human or fey, were easily spooked and ran off once he arrived on the scene to help Dan.
“When Adrian and I reached our door, I turned and I swear to you I saw some dark creature lurking in the stone entry of the house across the street. It had … a creepy pallor, like a corpse. And it was wearing a dark outfit, except for the vibrant green vest and glowing green eyes. It wasn’t human, I knew that. When I turned back to look at it again, it was gone.”
Mick’s countenance changed. “And you did not see fit to inform us of this?”
“He was injured.” Adrian put in, determined to defend Dan to the last. “He’d been hit on the head by a rock.”
“Yeah and the skinny little shit who I caught had a skeletal wrist. And long fingernails, like claws,” Dan added. “I forgot about the thing hiding in the stoop, what with everything else going on around here.”
“Then they know where we are,” Riley’s calm voice startled them all. “Think about it, they recognized Tara as fey when she stumbled into their little cafe’, and must have followed her here. And they noted Dan and Adrian coming home. Today, their watchman was attacked two blocks away, felled by a fey and a human. They will detect your essence and Tara’s, in the apartment today. The only one of us they do not know about yet is me.”
“That could be a mistaken assumption on our part,” Adrian pointed out. “We need to find a new home. We need to pack, now.”
“Wait, do not descend into panic.” Mick caught his wrist and prevented Adrian from leaving. “We have sigils everywhere to make us invisible.”
“So … you mean when Dan and I entered the building, they couldn’t see us?”
“The building is surrounded by shields. They know you are in the vicinity, but not where. The building will fade from their perceptions when they fly past, and it will seem that only humans reside here.”
“They know we’re in Montmartre, but not exactly where,” Dan finished. “Great, all we need now is an invisibility cloak to go get food and supplies,
and we’re good.”
His tone was sarcastic, suggesting the very opposite.
“We will stay here for now. The sigils will protect us. The dark ones dislike sunlight. Night is their time. Tomorrow, we’ll see about acquiring weapons,” Mick commanded. He waved his hand at them, signalling the meeting was over and for Dan and Adrian to leave.
“Well, that was a helluva war council, hey, Dillon?” Dan’s jest as they traversed the hallway to their own flat brought a heavy sigh to Adrian’s lips.
“They know their own kind better than we do.” Adrian turned the doorknob and entered the apartment. “I would like a strong draught of brandy, care to join me?” He removed his suit coat and loosened the shirt about his neck. Glancing about the room, his eyes moved to his bedroom door. Tara must be asleep. That was a relief. She had quite a fright today.
“So, where is Gisele?” Dan asked in a panicked voice. “I told her to stay here.”
“We were over there for three hours. She may have gone home.”
“I told her not to go home alone. That jerk from the club might be waiting for her there.”
“Come, man, it’s one floor below us. What could happen?” Adrian opened the lower cabinet of the china hutch and retrieved the brandy and two crystal goblets. Ah, Mick had provided for their every need, didn’t he now. He poured a measure into both goblets and carried them to the sofa where Dan had taken a seat.
Dan took his offering with a grateful nod. “She could be kidnapped by a malicious old pervert. She was fired from her job at the dance hall and that skanky fellow is responsible. He tried to get her to become his mistress and she refused, so that’s his retaliation upon the poor woman. He already sent his man around to offer her his protection this morning. She refused, but he seems too damned determined for my liking to let it go at that. I told her she could bunk with me for a while.”
That explained her appearance earlier. She looked desperate and frightened. Adrian didn’t say anything further about Dan’s arrangement with the woman. If Dan had fallen for her, then it would do little good to talk him out of his need to protect her.
“So, do you think we can win this fight?”
Adrian cocked his head and considered his answer. “I’d feel better if I knew how many we were up against. That might determine the odds of success.”
“I think we’re fucked.” Dan lifted his glass and drained it. He smacked his lips with satisfaction as the brandy went down his gullet in a slow burn. “But, what are you gonna do, hey? I’m partial to the human race staying the way it is, not going backward to primitive times.”
Adrian rose, and set his glass on the small stand next to his overstuffed chair. He gave Dan a salute, as he would to one of his men back in Cork, and then headed to the bedroom.
Once there, he noted the emptiness of the small room. A note was on the bed, on the pillow where his wife’s head should be. He opened it in a panic.
“Dan!” Adrian called out, and the big man came thundering in. “Read this.”
“Oh, shit!” Dan groaned as he read aloud. “While you big strong men were busy planning your war, Gisele and I slipped out to the cabaret to enjoy a little girl time. Have fun storming the castle, boys!
Lady Dillon, Queen of the Bright and Shining Starling Mound.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tara had a plan. Inspiration from the Green Fairy, Le Fee Verte as she was known in French. Bellows had kept asking her if she were the magical woman associated with Absinthe, so she decided to go with that. A little charm, a little flirting, and a little fairy dust were potent weapons when dealing with human males.
She still wore her pale green tulle gown with flowing sleeves, one that the dressmaker insisted would enhance her complexion. Gisele had also put on one of Tara’s new gowns. They didn’t have to go far to find Gisele’s place of employment. It was just a few blocks from their apartment. Le Coq Bleu was bustling tonight. The street was backed up with carriages as wealthy patrons had their drivers waiting to whisk them away at a moment’s notice.
Tara smiled at the sounds of gaiety. It reminded her of bars in the future; loud lively music, crammed with people, and lots of alcohol and cigar smoke filling the room. The lively music was from a piano, not a jukebox. The people were dressed in fine clothing of the Victorian age, lovely gowns on the few women patrons, and suit coats with dress trousers on the men. It was like a night at the opera, but with less dignity. It was, after all, sort of a brothel, dancing or not. She knew from Dan’s tales that there were various entertainments in the back rooms, card games, sex games, and places to indulge in smoking a hookah for a price.
They were admitted to the main room, but not without a look of disdain from the ‘bouncer’ at the door. Some bouncer, he had on a suit and tails, complete with gloves, and a top hat. He tried to stop Tara with a question, “Who is escorting you this evening, Madame?”
She sashayed up to him and peered up into his curious brown eyes. With a wave of her hand Tara said sweetly, “we don’t need an escort.” He nodded in agreement and let them pass.
They moved through the crowds of mostly men with some difficulty. A man stopped Tara’s progress by stepping in front of her.
“Are you the Green Fairy?” His eyes were hopeful, and a tad too bloodshot.
“Is your name Etienne Marceau?” she replied.
“No, my lady. I am Eugene Lemay.”
“Then I am not your green fairy. Excuse us.” She moved past him as he stood with his mouth agape. Other men stared after her as if she were a famous movie star crashing a local pub in her own time.
If Adrian knew I were here he’d be furious. But the boys won’t let me play, so …
Gisele held on to her arm. The poor woman seemed frightened to be out of her depth, a visitor to the club instead of a dancer looking down at the patrons from on the stage.
Men parted before Tara, giving her a feeling of power. She had applied a teensy bit of glamoury back home as she was dressing, a little extra zing to enhance her attractiveness in the hope her ploy would work. She was new to this so she wasn’t certain if she succeeded in making herself more appealing to human men—until now—when they were all forming a line on either side of her as she traversed the crowded room.
“Mademoiselle Tisante, stop.” The voice piercing Tara’s grand promenade moment was raspy and ancient. She had a feeling it was Gisele’s troublesome pervert. “Stop I say. Do not ignore me, or you’ll rue the day you met me, young woman!”
Gisele’s hand tightened on Tara’s arm from behind her. “It’s him. Oh, what am I to do?”
“Ignore him,” Tara instructed in a low whisper. “If he bothers you, I’ll take care of him.”
“But Lady Tara, you are a mere woman. We shouldn’t have come here alone, I knew it would be a mistake. Oh—Oooh, no—let go of me!” Gisele’s speech went from a low whisper to a high pitched shriek.
Tara turned. Sure enough, a man who looked to be at least ninety years old if not one hundred was cruelly clutching Gisele’s arm as if she were a runaway slave and he her owner. “Let go of her, now.”
The ancient fellow looked at Tara with open hostility. “And who are you to order me about? Just another overpriced tart expecting men to fall at her feet.”
Okay, that was it. The man wasn’t letting Gisele go, and his cronies, two younger men of perhaps forty, flanked him. The fellow thought he could just drag her friend to his lair as if she belonged to him. His wrinkled fingers were tight on Gisele’s arm, tight enough to leave a bruise.
Tara’s fury rose. “Release her or deal with me.”
The two men behind him were backing away with fear in their eyes. Still, the old man kept a tight hold on Gisele’s arm. He glared at Tara. “I do not take orders from women like you.”
“There are no women like me in Paris!” Tara felt the electricity zinging over her skin and stinging her teeth. Thunder rumbled above. The chandeliers above their heads quivered as their glass pendants tin
kled ominously in warning. At her silent wish, the lights flickered and dimmed.
They came on again, but the effect left the place silent. Even the piano player had ceased to make music. Tara looked down at her tingling hand, noting blue sparks of energy curling around her fingertips and tickling her palms.
“Let the woman go,” a man spoke up from the crowd.
And then another agreed, and another. The men were starting to close in on Gisele’s bully with menacing looks.
With a huff of indignation, the old man let Gisele go. He pushed her at Tara. Lifting a boney hand, he looked directly at Tara, “This isn’t over.”
“It is,” Tara snapped. She extended her arms from her sides and let herself glow.
The crowd’s reaction was a collective Oooohhh!
The old fellow looked as if he’d have a stroke, right there and drop at Tara’s feet.
“This woman is under my protection. Touch her, and you will deal with me.”
“It’s her—the Green Lady—look, it’s the Green Fairy! The patron saint of Absinthe,” The men around her whispered in tones of reverence.
Gisele was staring at Tara with a very different look, one of shock and fear.
“Yes, I am Lady Artemisia Absinthium.” Tara was careful to not reveal her real name. After all, when impersonating the Green Lady she must give the woman due credit in these parts. Artemisia was also a very naughty fairy who hadn’t kept her true self secret among humans but rather flaunted her powers to lure men in.
The men crowded around Tara with adoration. They were getting too close. She was starting to panic.
And she didn’t like the way Gisele was looking at her.
Had she become blue, as Mick did when he was upset?
Ok, time to wave them back, she thought. Closing her eyes to concentrate, Tara kept her arms extended at her sides and focused on getting out of this corner she’d painted herself into. With all of her being, she focused her energy on suggestive thought magic as Mick had taught her briefly. “The Green Fairy has vanished. You cannot see her. Go back about your business.” With a swoosh of her arms upright and then out in a circle, she pushed her will outward to encompass the crowd.