Tales from Null City

by Barb Taub

  Eirie left the studio at a trot, pulling up her hoodie as the Seattle rain splattered her pink and purple hair.

  “Other seniors?” He swung into place beside her. “Really, Eirie?”

  She laughed, glancing up at Liam’s beard stubbled chin, rain-slicked dark hair, and that athlete’s body outlined by leather jacket and black jeans. Eirie knew for a fact he was thirty-six and his lean frame hid muscles conditioned for peak stamina and performance. Not for the first time, she imagined the raindrops sizzling against his skin. “Definitely a father-figure. But you don’t look too bad for your advanced age.”

  His grunt might have been contempt or amusement. “The Agency wants us at the church in twenty minutes. Any chance you could step it up, Radio-girl?” She nodded and they swung into a smoothly-matched jog through the steep backstreets of Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood. Over the past year, the Accords Agency—the quasi-governmental shadow that allowed her inner adrenaline junkie to come out for fun and profit—had matched her with Liam on most of her assignments.

  In person, he was always the same—dour, efficient, emotionless. The Liam she obsessed about, the one she was desperate to meet, was the teasing, playful prankster who disturbed almost every show, driving her producer crazy—and driving her ratings steadily upward. Lately, she reflected sourly, Liam was also the one who sabotaged her few attempts at a social life. Often she would head out on a date only to get a call reminding her it was time for church. But even if she didn’t hear from him during the date, she would compare each potential partner to the black-haired, leather clad tormentor whose occasional Irish accent only appeared when he allowed it, and whose seriously unresolved attitude problems never disappeared. She was just not right, she admitted to herself, when she allowed her controlling, arrogant, on-air nemesis to ruin her social life—while assuming a leading role in her dreams.

  “Welcome Sisters and Brothers” proclaimed the faded sign above the church door as Liam beat a brisk tattoo with the knocker. When the door opened, she held out a hand to the tall man whose lack of spare flesh made it impossible to tell if he was closer to thirty or eighty. “Hey, Dr. Tom.”

  He enveloped her small hand with both of his. “Eirie.” Like his thin frame, his conversation was pared to bare essentials. “Liam?”

  Her companion snorted. “You already know damn well it’s me, Tommy. So cut the faith crap and tell me who needs to die. I don’t want to be here any more than you want to have me.”

  “And yet, here we are. Again.” Dr. Tom smiled slightly and led them through the bare outer room with its folding chairs stacked against the walls, and into the tiny windowless office beyond. He waved to the two padded armchairs in front of the battered wood desk and chair. A framed photograph of the sun’s rays shooting through a clouded sunset provided the room’s only decoration.

  Opening a drawer, Dr. Tom pulled out three delicate china cups and matching saucers. Raising an eyebrow at Eirie, he held up the bottle of Scotch. At her shrug, he poured and handed her one of the teacups. When he turned to Liam, he was met with a scowl. “Sorry. Forgot.” The drawer yielded a thermos of coffee to fill Liam’s teacup. Into his own cup he poured coffee and added a generous splash from the bottle. Returning bottle and thermos to the drawer, he set a dark green folder midway between his visitors.

  Liam opened the folder and grunted at the photo of the smiling young man. “Matias León.”

  Eirie raised an eyebrow. “The soccer player?”

  Liam looked up. “The best footballer ever to come out of Argentina.”

  Dr. Tom’s eyes met Liam’s. “Some say the best in the world.”

  “Some,” acknowledged Liam. He moved the photo aside to reveal another showing a solemn brunette holding a baby girl. The baby had delicately pointed ears.

  Eirie hissed and reached for the photo. She gently touched the faces of the dark-haired girl and the baby.

  “Who are they?” Liam’s dark eyes flicked to Dr. Tom and fastened back on Eirie.

  “The girl is my mother.” She stared at the photo. “My dead mother.” She pushed back her hood along with the curls that usually tumbled wildly around her head. Glitter-tipped pink and purple hair gleamed around the soft points of her ears as she turned to Dr. Tom. “Where did you get this picture?”

  “Matias has been missing for over a week, along with his girlfriend and her daughter. We think the girlfriend is dead. Your assignment is to find Matias and the baby.” Dr. Tom folded his hands around his cup. “I haven’t been a soccer fan since…”

  When Liam waved irritably for him to move on, Dr. Tom took a sip of the cooling coffee and continued. “His team has offered a reward for information regarding his location. But the Agency is more concerned with recovering the infant before inter-domain warfare ensues.” Dr. Tom looked at Eirie. “Your sister. In line after you for the throne of Tír na nÓg.”

  “Not after me,” Eirie muttered, avoiding Liam’s stare. “I abdicated as heir to the fae years ago. Right after my mother was killed. And before she apparently came back from the dead to have more children.” She pulled her hood back over her ears and sat up straight. “Why don’t you tell us what’s really going on.”

  “We were also told that the Queen of the Fae—your mother—had…” Dr. Tom paused.

  “Been bloody well killed along with her lover as they were leaving Tír na nÓg?” Her voice was quiet, almost conversational, but knuckles flared white as her hands gripped the desk edge. “Do you know what Tír na nÓg means? The land of eternal youth. She had been young and beautiful longer than humans keep time. But all of that—youth, beauty, power—it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough to keep her from leaving. Or from being blown into pieces that all the fae in Tír na nÓg couldn’t heal.”

  Dr. Tom looked at her without pity. “Something like that.”

  “Something exactly like that. I saw it because she had just said goodbye and told me to be a good little princess. She was leaving with her lover, a human who was apparently too stupid and arrogant to believe that guns just go…wrong…around the fae. That’s why I never carry one. The more fae around, the worse the gun malfunctions. Take one into the middle of Tír na nÓg, the home of the fae, and it’s a death sentence. After that I was sent to live with my grandmother, but I couldn’t wait until I could leave too. What’s the point of never getting hungry or sick or old, or of being Queen for that matter, if you never get to live your own life?” She flicked a finger at the photograph. “I saw my mother die. This may look like her, but something else is going on.”

  Liam hadn’t taken his eyes from her. “What about your father?”

  Eirie shook her head. “It’s not what you think. They would spend whole centuries with other lovers, so jealousy wasn’t a factor. But in Tír na nÓg it’s really hard to have children. You have to spend at least a year eating human food. My grandmother was getting old and she wanted an heir before she…retired…so they went ahead and had me. My father took his food from a bottle and he’s been doing that ever since. As my mother ate, though, she became convinced Tír na nÓg needed to assimilate parts of the human world. I was pretty young so I don’t remember much about it, but my grandmother said there were many who thought that when the People, the Tuatha Dé Danann, left Ireland for Tír na nÓg, they should leave the mortal world behind forever. Gran thought that was just stupid, so after my mother died, she retired to her villa in Scottsdale. I went with her.”

  “And how does an ex-fairy princess end up an Agency operative and part-time radio host?” Liam might have been amused, but his face was, as always, impassive.

  “Pretty much the same way an ex-world champion soccer star becomes a teetotaler card sharp who runs errands for a former priest.” She shrugged and turned back to Dr. Tom. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  Dr. Tom hesitated then seemed to reach a decision. “I think your mother did die. But we’ve discovered that when she was trying to get pregnant with you, she visited a specialized clinic in Cal
ifornia. A clinic that froze several of her fertilized eggs. Ten months ago the last three viable eggs were supposedly stolen from the clinic. Last week a young woman who served as professional surrogate was found dead. Autopsy suggests that she had recently given birth.”

  Eirie looked at him blankly.

  “I think the baby is your sister. And the real problem is that not only is the baby missing, but one of the four Treasures has also disappeared.”

  “Which one?”

  “I’m not sure. Now your father’s advisors say if the infant and the Treasure aren’t returned to Tír na nÓg, the king will send an armed force to recover it.”

  Liam sat up. “What Treasures?”

  “There are four of them, the ancient gifts of the Goddess Danu to her people, the Tuatha Dé Danann.” She counted off on her fingers. “The Lia Fáil, a stone that supposedly names the King of Ireland. The Spear of Lug that guarantees you’ll win all battles, the Sword of Núadu that allows no escape once it’s been drawn, and the Cauldron of the Dagda, which is never empty.” She frowned. “But there’s not much demand these days for naming a King of Ireland, and even enchanted spears and swords aren’t going to be much use against automatic weapons.” The frown gave way to a snort. “And after the fae ‘warriors’ have been sitting on their fairy arses for a thousand years, I imagine our biggest danger is being forced to eat the prehistoric slop the Cauldron serves up.”

  Dr. Tom looked at her. Folded his hands. Waited.

  She sighed. “Right. Find Matias León and the baby. I’m on it. Liam?”

  He nodded and picked up the folder. “I assume this has the info on the dead surrogate and the clinic?”

  Dr. Tom nodded. “The Tuatha Dé gave us one week before their force arrives.” He stood and moved to the door. “Good luck.” As the door swung behind him, Eirie thought she saw him shaking his head.

  Liam waited until the door closed. “Eirie?”

  She stared at her teacup. “A sister.” With her hood again covering her bright hair and her “work-clothes”—strategically ripped gray hoodie, tulle-puffed skirt, bright striped leggings stuffed into chunky blue Doc Martens—she seemed little more than a child herself. Then she lifted exotically tilted lavender eyes to his, and something ancient, not-quite-human looked out. “She’ll need someone to tell her about our family…and make sure she has toys…and how to use her magic…and put on makeup…and hear about her first boyfriend who will, of course, be all wrong for her…and…someone to keep her safe.” Carefully, precisely, she placed both hands on the table in front of her. “Well, she has a sister for that.”

  There were things he could have said. The teasing, mischievous Liam who found a way to call into her show each week could have said something to make her smile. The self-assured soccer-star Liam could have made a charming, romantic overture. The Liam who had been her partner for the past year said, “We should start with the clinic. Ready?”

  She nodded.

  Chapter Two

  Two days later in the Executive Director’s office of the research complex on the edge of Palo Alto, the brittle blonde in the red power suit leaned back in her chair and slowly crossed one classic red silk Prada pump over the other.

  Behind the desk, the round-faced balding man who had introduced himself as Dr. Marano paused, wiped his glasses, and continued. “As I explained, Mrs. Daniels—”

  “Ms.!”

  “Ms. Daniels,” he acknowledged. “We have had remarkable success with our cryogenically preserved zygotes.”

  The dark-haired man in the Armani suit leaned in from the adjoining chair and whispered in her ear. She turned back to the desk. “Frozen embryos?”

  Dr. Marano’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “While we have had successes, it is still an area of science that is, if you’ll forgive the pun, in its infancy. We currently claim about one in four singleton pregnancies for every four intrafallopian transfers.”

  Again, the man whispered. She held up a finger polished to the exact red sheen as the shoes. “Can you tell me about recent successes?”

  “I’m sorry. All patient information is confidential.”

  The man leaned forward. “What about security for the embryos?”

  “We have…recently…introduced significant upgrades to our security systems. Do you have particular concerns Mr.…?”

  More whispers. She uncrossed her legs and stood, waiting until the scientist was able to pull his eyes from long legs balanced atop outrageously curved bits of red silk and tall heels. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Marano. You’ve given us a lot to think about. We’ll be in touch if we decide to go through with the procedure.”

  Dr. Marano held out a hand for an awkward moment and then dropped it as neither of his guests reached out. “Well, please let me know if I can answer any further questions. I would be happy to…” The door closing behind them cut off his words.

  Neither spoke as their rental car negotiated the Bayshore freeway until Liam was satisfied they weren’t being followed. He pulled into the strip mall parking lot as night was falling. Eirie removed the blonde wig and stuffed it into her bag with a sigh of relief. Liam’s sigh held regret as he watched those shoes disappear into the bag, soon followed by her suit skirt and jacket. Minutes later another hoodie, black this time, covered her hair as she wriggled her legs into a pair of black leggings.

  His Armani joined her disguise bag, and soon he was back in his usual black. “Which door?”

  She looked up thoughtfully. “Both doors have good locks and better cameras. I think it’s the roof again.”

  “Why is it always the roof with you?”

  “Come on Grandpa. I’m just trying to keep your old bones flexible. And why do I always end up hiding in a closet with you?”

  “Closets are fine, unless you’re scared of the dark. Baby.”

  He followed her throaty laugh out of the car and through backstreets back to the clinic.

  •●•

  “Damn.” Liam breathed against her ear, and she shivered. Crouched in the supply closet they had accessed through the roof’s skylight, they listened to Dr. Marano’s voice telling his security team to increase patrols and checkpoints.

  “Now what?” Now her lips were against his ear, the words barely audible.

  “Now we wait.”

  In their little closet, the darkness was absolute. Thanks to a vent above, air cycled through the closet, but in the confined space she found herself pressed against him with her legs drawn up. She shoved under his arm and moved to his lap so she could stretch out her legs. Experience had taught her how much of each assignment consisted of waiting, and it made sense to get as comfortable as possible. At least, that was her story, and she was going to stick with it.

  “Guess Dr. Marano didn’t buy our act if he’s beefing security,” she whispered as his arms circled in a loose hold. “Do you think it was the shoes?”

  His low chuckle tickled her ear. “Not the shoes. Those shoes are better than Viagra.”

  “And you’d know all about Viagra—old man?”

  During a long wait on an earlier assignment, she’d grilled him about his day job as a card sharp. Pulling out his teeth might have been easier, but he had finally admitted that his success depended not just on hiding his emotions, but on burying them so deeply they could never reveal any clues. She wondered if the teasing charmer who called her show was only allowed out because his face remained hidden. Now as he joked in the dark, she thought about her theory. Maybe she should test it…

  “Liam?” No answer, and she couldn’t see his face, but his chin nodded against her hair. “Do you have a family?”

  “I wasn’t hatched.”

  Another joke? Maybe she was on the right track. “Well, I really only had Gran, and she had…responsibilities. I’m not sure what to do with a sister.”

  She felt a breath that might have been a chuckle.

  “Sisters are easy. I have three sisters, so I’d know. You just have to let them tel
l you what to do. For your entire life.”

  “Um… You probably haven’t noticed this about me, but I’m not that good at doing what people tell me.”

  “That’s the thing about sisters. It doesn’t matter whether you actually do what they say, as long as you let them say it.”

  “Do you ever think about having children? Of your own?”

  Silence. She reached up in the dark, touching his cheek. “Liam?”

  “I have nieces and nephews. Every summer the whole family gets together the first week of July. I try to go when I can.”

  She waited.

  “But I don’t see how that can ever be my path.”

  She nodded in the dark. “It’s hard to imagine telling bedtime stories and then going off on your next assignment. That’s why I’m going to get my baby sister back, and then I’ll say goodbye to the Agency.”

  He froze.

  She again waited, but when he didn’t speak, she whispered, “Say something.”

  The Irish lilt was as strong as she’d ever heard it. “People like us only say goodbye, Radio-girl.” A fleeting impression of hesitation, and then he was everywhere around her in the dark. His arms tightened, his mouth taking tiny bites up her neck and across her chin to boss her lips into opening, and then his tongue was fighting hers for ownership of their kiss.

  Maybe she liked closets after all… She pulled her lips back to gasp, “How much time?”

  “Enough.” Somehow one of his hands was lifting her T-shirt to reach her breasts while the other was sliding up the slick fabric of her leggings. There was a line, she thought, a small electric line of desire that started humming the first time they’d paired on assignment a year ago. Now it was a current sizzling from the breast he was cupping directly down to the hand stroking up her leggings.