“Okay. First, how did you—wait, no. First, why aren't we running anymore? Second, what the hell is going on? Now, third: how did you find the only busker in the world who knows your crazy engineering folk song?”
“He knows it's not worth it anymore. And I promise I'll explain. Now please give me a minute. We need a moment to settle, and this is a classic.”
Megan sighed and waited, listening since she didn't have another option. At least the song was, admittedly, a better focus for her attention than the stinging of her arm and the memory of those eyes. She knew every word, including all the technical ones she didn't actually know. She didn't get it. It wasn't just that she wasn't the right kind of nerd to identify as much with a song comparing people to construction materials. It was that no song brought Megan and her mother together the way this song centered the Kahales together. Megan's mother rarely sang along to the radio at all, and when she started to, she never finished. It was yet another of the Kahales’ Family Things—entertainment, holiday collaborations, projects—that Megan didn’t have.
As the song ended, Lani took a breath. “Okay. Time to meet her.”
Lani led the way up to the woman with the saxophone. She was taller than either of the girls—admittedly, most people were taller than Lani. She was also a lot more athletic, judging by the muscle tone in her arms—the fact the woman seemed comfortable in just a t-shirt in the cold weather also struck Megan as odd. The t-shirt was some kind of band shirt, with Bauhausish letters reading 'Sax & Violins.' Megan wondered if the woman and her string-playing compatriot had formed a band just for the name. Then she realized that was an odd train of thought for a time like this, but then, that had been the norm for Megan until the past month.
Stranger still, before bothering to say hi to the woman that she clearly knew, Lani was crouching over the saxophone case. Two little heads rose to greet her—a pair of little tan-with-black-spots kittens. The similar coloration and patterns suggested they were siblings, but differentiating the pair was made easy by the fact that the one on the right was wearing a little leather helmet with cutouts for his ears and a pair of goggles. Despite everything else that had happened through the day, Megan couldn't help but stare. "That's... really weird," she muttered.
"Sure is," the busker agreed. "But Maxwell insists on riding without a helmet." She gestured to a Vespa parked some way away, with a basket on the front. "He's crazy."
Megan wasn't sure, from a distance, as she looked at the human-sized safety helmet hanging off of the Vespa. “Are there… two holes drilled into yours?”
“Yep,” said the saxophonist. “Matter of comfort,” she added, as if that explained anything.
Lani stood upright after greeting the kittens, rolling her eyes. "Megan, meet Cassia."
Megan paused, eyeing the woman, and then looking around for the redcap. "You're sure he's not going to just follow us more?"
"Not while we stay with Cassia," Lani answered confidently.
"So she's another one of the faerie things?" Megan asked, without near as much confidence.
"A satyress," Cassia responded. "You think I'm hot now, just wait ‘til dusk, and it'll be all horns and hooves."
"So, he's afraid of her?" Megan ventured.
"Most of the time, they'd probably both enjoy the fight," Lani replied. "Right now, though, it's three on one. Even a redcap isn't going to like those odds."
"Because we were so useful before." Megan snorted.
"Oh no, not us. Them." Lani gestured to the saxophone case.
"He's afraid of kittens?" Megan asked, taking a closer look at the pair.
"If you haven't figured this out, yet," Lani began, "You can't trust how Faerie things look on this side. Anyway, Cassia, can we come home with you?"
"I owe the old man enough,” Cassia said. “About time I paid some more of it off. Come on.” She headed for her case and the kittens, both of whom were almost standing, front paws on the sides of the case, glaring in the direction the redcap had last been seen in.
"Right, nothing is what is seems. Got it." Megan reached down to scritch one of the apparently very scary kittens in thanks.
Chapter 6: Family Stuff
Cassia tailed their next bus to Fremont closely, then rejoined them as they passed various photography galleries, rows of new condos, and what they were assured was a very nice vegan and gluten-free bakery.
Cassia showed them to her apartment, which consisted of the second floor of a house that looked like it had been built in the 1920s.
“Nice flag,” Lani said, looking at the rainbow flag hanging from Cassia's balcony.
“Thanks. Fits in nice in this neighborhood, and of course, I am pansexual.”
Megan had heard that word. “Ah, right. Attraction that doesn't specify any physical sex or gender identity, right?”
“Yeah. Besides, Pan is really hot.”
Megan blinked. “...Okay.”
Cassia just smiled, let them into her place, took a letter opener out of her coat and set it on the front table. Why the busker carried around a letter opener was added to an incredibly long list of unanswered questions. Megan wasn't sure she'd ever have time for all of them.
“Is that a Richard Dadd?” Megan asked, eyes immediately drawn to the chaotic painting in Cassia's living room.
“Just a print, obviously, but yeah,” Cassia confirmed. “Crazy Jane. I love it. Love the Yeats poems it helped inspire, too. 'Fair and foul are near of kin/And fair needs foul,' I cried. Good stuff.”
“I've seen some of Dadd's work with the ...faeries. Did he paint this in the asylum too?”
“Yep. Most of his best work there.”
Megan frowned. “Are you going to tell me that he wasn't really crazy? That he met actual faeries?”
“Oh, he was definitely really crazy. Severe paranoid schizophrenia. Horrific violent delusions.” Cassia smiled, a little disturbing, considering the subject. “That absolutely does not mean he never met any real faeries.” The taller woman sprawled on her couch. The kittens, Jude and Maxwell, bounded across the floor before climbing up onto the couch with their owner. “So, you're Megan O'Reilly,”
“Yeah, um, how much do you know about me?”
“You as the menehune's BFF, or you as Riocard's daughter with the frontwoman of Late to the Party?”
Well, that opened up a whole new game of questions. Megan knew her parents had been in a band when she was born, much as her mom didn't like to talk about parts of her life she'd 'grown out of.' But Megan had always assumed Ric was short for Richard. Still, there was an even more urgent issue. “Minnie-what?” She looked to Lani.
“Menehune. And only half. I'm human on my mom's side.”
“Human on your ...” Megan frowned. “Lani, I've met your dad. He's a person.”
“A person, yeah,” Lani said. “That's a reasonable label. Not human. And you've never seen Dad at dusk, and definitely never at dawn.” Upon reflection, Megan hadn't. Lani's dad was away for work a lot, though, so it never seemed weird to not see him in the evening much.
While she was reflecting, she repeated the word. “Menehune.” Megan remembered where she heard the term before. “Wait ... the Hawaiian lawn gnome people? Like your mom's old figurine thing on top of the fridge? Your dad's not ...” Well, if pressed, she had to admit the figurine looked a bit like him. And it was a little harder to call this entire conversation insane considering her conversation of the night before. “But he works for the Corps of Engineers!” she protested lamely.
“Did I ever say which Corps of Engineers?”
“...No,” Megan said slowly, reproachfully. “You didn't.”
“Megan, I wanted to tell you. I always wanted to tell you. But there are Restrictions.”
Megan could hear the capitalization in Lani's voice. She'd heard it before from the Kahales about cultural stuff, like really strong kinda-sorta-religious principles against overfishing. It only helped a little. “Okay. So why are you telling me now? Why get disabl
ed butterfly-people with service-crows to say we need to talk about what you couldn't say during fifty sleepovers? When did it stop being Restricted?”
“Last week,” Lani answered quietly. “When I found out you're only human on your mom's side, too.”
Megan paused for some time. “Okay, before I can either laugh or scream about that, I'm going to need a sandwich and some band-aids.”
Despite being the technical hostess, Cassia remained sprawled out on her couch, with a pair of kittens climbing on her. The satyress gestured towards the kitchen. "Feel free."
"I've got it," Lani replied, heading for the apartment's small kitchen at the invitation, peeking out to continue the conversation while she prepared food for herself and Megan.
“So,” Cassia asked suddenly. “What do you play?”
“What?” Megan was getting whiplash again. A hand went to her hat. “Just a fan. Don't play sports.”
“Not sports. Music. What instrument? Your mother's bass work was incendiary. My girl—” Cassia gestured to a picture of herself with arm around a dreadlocked woman holding a violin bow. “—still plays those albums. So what about you?”
“Oh. Keyboards, like, a little. Music class is always fun. I have perfect pitch, Ms. Dahl says...”
“Well, yeah,” Cassia said, shrugging, and Megan wondered if the perfect pitch was somehow related to not being human. The satyress continued. “But seriously, just 'keyboards, a little'?” She sighed, then muttered. “Ric, you and your attachment issues have a lot to answer for.”
Megan wasn't sure she was ready to ask after that yet. “So what's a redcap?”
“Very violent Unseelie.” Lani replied from the other side of the kitchen counter.
“Un-what?”
“Disorderly fairies. There's these two courts for the Irish and British types and anyone associated with them: Seelie and Unseelie. We're Seelie, my family. Well, we're affiliated with the Seelie Court. Because of the Menehune-Brownie Strategic Alliance of 1801.”
“...obviously. And what do Irish and British fairies have to do with Seattle?”
“You think colonization is just a human thing? For one thing, there's dandelions—but best not to get us off track.”
“Yeah... That used to be my job,” said Megan.
Lani smiled. “Yeah. Anyway, it's all very complicated, but a lot of connections lead a lot of different places, and a lot of various Folk end up where they want to end up—”
“But some things are always going to be Irish,” Cassia said. “Because Riocard has a Type.”
“So you knew my dad?” Megan asked her.
“Sure. Still see him twice a year, except when I don't feel like going.”
“And you're saying he's… a faerie? Like...”
“Not like Ashling,” Lani said hurriedly.
Cassia laughed. “Ooh, no, not like Ashling.”
"He's one of the sidhe,” Lani continued. “The highest order of the Irish and British faeries. He's one of the top among even the sidhe, really. Sometimes he goes by the Unseelie King.”
“Wait, what? My dad is Unseelie? Like the redcap? Does… does he—?"
Cassia stepped in. "No, trust me, he didn't send that guy. Just because they're both Unseelie doesn't make them allies. Really, that thing about keeping friends close and so on can kind of apply. Now, some of us—"
"Us?" Megan interjected.
"Us," Cassia assured. "I fell in with Ric's folk a long time ago. Came along his first road trip to America—not that this continent had much in the way of roads at the time. My folk ain't always so big on letting me play reindeer games anymore, but I like the local Unseelie, messed up as some of 'em are, and I like Seattle."
“Well...yeah,” Megan said. “Seattle's great. Attracts...all kinds of people.”
Chapter 7: Seasons of Change
"So...” Megan asked, finishing a bite of the sandwich Lani made her and occasionally wincing at the disinfectant being applied to her arm. “My dad is what, '80s David Bowie? Glammed up, stealing babies, turning into owls?"
Lani frowned. "/Sort/ of, but don't get me started on owls."
"What is your problem with owls?"
"I'm not /scared/ of them, to be clear. I'm a big girl. I just think they're up to something"
"Okay, okay, forget the owls."
"Gladly."
"So aside from something about attachment issues with the father I've never met, exactly what's going on? Why would someone want to kill me?"
"I'll take this one," Cassia said. "Faerie is all about politics and schemes. Bad blood can last a lot of centuries, and your dad is one of the major players. He's done a hell of a job hiding you all these years, particularly after he managed to spend four years with your mom. The people who knew were either actual allies, or weren't willing to cross him. Now that he's missing, somebody also leaked word on who you are and where you are. As word gets out, plenty of people want to meet you—and at least a few others are just as interested in making sure you're not around to meet. The redcap may just be the start."
Despite the threat to her life, Megan fixated on another part of the explanation. "My dad is missing? Like, missing from, uhm, Faerie, missing?"
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Lani said. "I got some advance notice from Ashling, but not much. I knew it wouldn't take long for more people to find out."
"How did Ashling find out?"
"After the thing with her wings," Cassia said, "Riocard took her in. She's been his hunting guide for a while, when he's not sending her to keep an eye on you."
Megan scratched her head. "I'm having trouble keeping track of who is on what team here."
Lani applied a little more disinfectant and started bandaging Megan's arm. "It's not always about teams. My dad might disagree with him a lot of the time, but it's absolutely critical that we find your dad before Halloween and get him back where he's supposed to be."
“So he's … he's not even on your team. You're just worried because he's my dad?”
“Not just. I want you in on this because it's important, and you deserve to know. But just because we're not affiliated with the Unseelie doesn't mean they're not important. If I've learned anything from Neil deGrasse Tyson, it's that without Autumn, we'd all freeze to death.”
“How are you trying to use science geek stuff to explain to me that… that we're faeries?”
“Well, we're only half. Anyway, my point is that there are sort of ... mystic-climate patterns and stuff, and they're all part of what keeps back the kinda-sorta Ice Age. Getting your dad back is important besides his being your dad.”
"Okay, so one more time, mystic climate patterns?"
Cassia sighed. "Riocard and Orlaith both take turns ruling things. The Seelie Queen in mostly Spring and Summer, your dad from Halloween to May Day. Lots of other faeries all over the world have their own things, but any one of them can screw things up. Your dad not taking over when he's supposed to is one of those screw-ups."
"So what do I have to do with it? Sure, he's my dad, but if it's that bad, there has to be plenty of people trying to find him with a lot more tricks and stuff than I'd have. I barely remember him."
“The Seelie Queen says there's a possible way to safely retrieve him, but that it needs someone of human blood,” Lani says. “And I've got Restrictions; I can help in stuff like that, but I can't do it alone.”
“Meanwhile, the Unseelie ain't exactly known for their teamwork,” Cassia said. “There's some folks looking for Ric, sure, but I suspect most don't have a clue, and the ones who do, I don't trust."
"So what are we supposed to do, exactly?"
"Well, first, Ashling and the Count know more than just about anyone, so we have a lead. Then we'll go to the courts, talk to the Queen. Ashling also says she was told to find you, so if you can believe her, your dad thinks there's something you can do."
"If you can believe her?"
“Pixies have a rep. She's more reliable than most."
"We're still waiting on a couple of people who should be here soon. We'll need Ashling's help in Faerie, and Kerr is on the way."
"So we're going to Faerie? Like, another world?"
"That's right."
"Uhm, I get that this is world-threatening stuff and all, but with going to another world—how long is this going to take?"
"Getting there doesn't take long at all." Cassia said. "Having Ashling along will speed things up too. But the trip is only half the trick. Figuring out what happened, where Ric is, and getting to him will probably take a few days, at least. If not longer."
“What? I can't stay the night. It's hard enough getting Mom to let me stay at Lani's house.”
“I know,” Lani said. “That's why I've called in the other friend I mentioned.” She looked to the door, and it opened. Someone came in, someone shorter than Lani, with a wide, ruddy face and tawny hair, dressed in baggy beige clothes and a knit cap. Lani smiled. “Right on cue, as usual. Thanks for making the trip on short notice, Kerr,” Lani said, raising her hand in the shape of the 'okay' sign, then tapping just above her eye and waving, like a little salute. The new arrival returned the gesture. It looked almost like a secret handshake. Lani had secret handshakes with other people, about whom her BFF knew nothing. Megan didn't know how to feel about that.
“Megan, I'd like you to meet Kerr.”
“Nice to meet you, Megan,” Kerr said in warm, friendly voice that was either tenor or alto, with an awkward little movement that was sort of a curtsey-ish bow. All of Kerr's features were a little hard to place as Megan smiled and managed an actual handshake. Why couldn't everyone come with little notes to identify what pronoun you were supposed to use for them, like on Tumblr?
“Nice to meet you, too. So, you're....?”
“A brownie.”
“Ah. Right. Strategic alliances and all.”
“Yep. I'm here to smooth things over at home for you. What's the plan?”
Foul is Fair Page 3