Free Agent

by J. C. Nelson

  “I didn’t mean to kill anyone. What about the other four?”

  “They don’t stock toilet paper in the bathrooms. Whether you meant to or not, Bernie is dead.”

  “He was curled up in a pothole at night, it’s not my fault I ran him over. He ruined my tire and I had to get the front end realigned. How did you even know him?”

  “Bernie was my eight hundred and fifty-third and one-eighth cousin,” said the gnome. He picked up a metal stamper and I yanked my hands off the counter.

  “How do you get to be one eighth of a cousin?”

  The gnome reached under the counter and took out a saw. “I’d like to show you.” He rang his bell three times and the security guards came over to escort us out.

  As we walked along I gave the box a shake, but it was well packed. “What’s in the box?”

  Evangeline shrugged.

  “Not even a little curious?”

  She shook her head. “Curiosity killed the cat, his owner, and most of the people in the apartment building, M.”

  “That was carbon monoxide and you know it.”

  “They’re both odorless, tasteless, and deadly, M. Sooner or later you’re going to learn to forget things on purpose.”

  She had a point. I considered forgetting to order Ari steel-toe slippers. That way she and Liam could bond over him helping her with crutches after he broke those toes in about a dozen places while dancing.

  We worked our way down off of Kingdom’s Main Street, through narrower roads, older roads. The bracelet thrummed less here, which meant we were not so tied to reality anymore. This was Middle Kingdom. While the High and Low Kingdoms overlapped the city like ghosts, Middle Kingdom didn’t connect to our reality except at the edges of the High and Low Kingdoms. All the old fairy tales played out in Middle Kingdom hundreds of years ago. According to Grimm, it resisted any efforts to modernize, so the government built a new palace and renamed the road it was on “Main Street” but the old palace was still around. Kind of like an old sports stadium after it’d been replaced. One of these days I figured they’d implode it and build the world’s largest yogurt-plex where it used to be.

  We were in Dwarf Town, I knew by the buildings. Old buildings, heavy wooden buildings made of beams and planks, with second-story windows and crazy leaning sides. The other key hint was that I’d have to crawl on my knees to get through the doors. Evangeline knew where we were headed; she could read dwarvish. She read the scrawled writing on one door—it looked more like someone had let a rabid raven dance on the sign than it did actual writing. After a moment she gave the door a kick so hard it bent. A dwarf came barreling out.

  He shook his fist. “You’re late, and you owe me a new door.” I think it made dwarves happy to be angry. If the dwarves ever got tired of forging swords and armor, they had a sure thing lined up as talk-radio hosts.

  “There was a line at the post office,” said Evangeline, and handed him the box.

  The dwarf tore it open and took out an old-style bottle of what looked like mercury. With a tug he opened the lid and a smell like boiled cat bit my nose. The fact that I knew what boiled cat smelled like was a sad testament to my life.

  I covered my face with my sleeve. “What is that?”

  He scowled at me. “Fleshing silver, suspended in cat broth,” he said and went back inside.

  As we walked through the side streets and back toward Main Street, Evangeline cocked her head, listening. “This way,” she said, pulling me toward an underpass.

  Heavy feet tromped by overhead and stopped. Then, in the quiet of Middle Kingdom, my purse began to sing. Liam was calling on my disposable cell phone. Evangeline glared at me, as the muffled tones of “It’s a Small World” echoed. I held my breath. I heard a strange creaking noise, and one by one the owners of the heavy feet jumped over the side of the bridge, landing on the path before us.

  “Give us the box,” said the largest one. I recognized the guttural voice of a goblin. Stupid muscle, but cheap. “Give us the box and do not scream.”

  Evangeline walked forward toward the group, a sway in her hips. “Oh no, I don’t think people will hear me if I scream,” she said, holding her hand to her mouth.

  I giggled, knowing how this was going to go. The goblins advanced on her, surrounding her. Evangeline put her hands on her hips. “Oh, wait. I meant, nobody will hear you if you scream.” Then she attacked. If all the women in the city fought like that, muggers would take up safer occupations, like wrestling rabid tigers.

  “Graaabbaaaragggh” said the lead goblin as Evangeline kicked him in the crotch. The longest piece of literature in goblin language was only ten syllables long, so for a goblin that was practically a soliloquy. Evangeline tripped the next one and broke his arm.

  I had my own problems of course. Two of the beasts decided they’d have better luck with five foot eight, hundred- and-fifty-pound me. I didn’t carry a nine millimeter for nothing, and I hit the lead one in the leg three times as he approached.

  “Always shoot in the feet,” Grimm once told me. “They’re so heavy it cripples them.” Evangeline preferred to break their knees, which worked equally well. The remaining one made a lunge for me, closing his leathery hand around my wrist. It crushed my arm under its fingers and tore the gun from my hand. “Die.”

  I felt into my pocket with my free hand and grabbed a tiny object the size and shape of a walnut. Grimm said we should always be polite. “No, thank you.” The only thing I detested more than Jehovah’s Witnesses were goblins, so I sank my fist into his stomach with every bit of force I could muster.

  The shell in my hand disintegrated, and lightning shot through him, making his ears steam. If I had even a shred of magical ability I could have fired it like a bolt from a distance, but given my past history with magic I was just happy it shocked him and not me.

  “Come on,” said Evangeline, and we hurried back toward Main Street. “We’d have been fine if your phone hadn’t given us away. Why do you even have that on?”

  I took it out of my purse and pulled up voice mail. “I’m not built like you. I have to talk to them to get their attention. You just have to walk by.” I listened to Liam complain about sitting through a tax meeting with his accountant and grinned at his frustration and the sound of his voice.

  Evangeline looked through me, her face blank with boredom.

  I snapped the phone closed. I knew Grimm would want confirmation that the delivery was done. Inside Kingdom it was hard to get a hold of him. Too much interference, I think, like too many cell phones in one area. The moment we passed the gates, he waited in an oily puddle.

  “Trouble?” It wasn’t a question.

  Evangeline dug bits of goblin flesh from under her fingernails. “Not until after the drop-off. We left a bunch of goblins under the Eleventh Street Bridge. Might want to call animal control and let them know.”

  “Ah yes. Well, they may have been misled about where they would find you,” said Grimm. “Are you hurt, Marissa?”

  My arm had a bruise like an ink blot on it where the goblin had grabbed me. The shape reminded me of a tattoo I’d considered getting to celebrate surviving my first year at the Agency. If I was going to draw on myself with permanent markers, it wouldn’t be Asian characters that meant “Free Fried Rice” or Celtic writing that said “Riverdance Sucks.” It’d be the thing that best represented my life: a bruise. “I got squeezed, but I’ll live. I fried the bastard for it.”

  Grimm frowned. “That was completely unnecessary, wasting magic. Haven’t I trained you in self-defense? I want you to stop by the emergency room and get that x-rayed. Is this going to delay the prince’s send off?”

  A chill shot through me, making the hairs on my neck stand up. I’d managed to forget for a bit about that. “Won’t be a problem.” My arm throbbed, sending waves of pain through me, but I knew it wouldn’t be the only thing hurting by the end of the night.

  Six

  THE LAST BIT of the prince setup is simple and
easy, so long as you haven’t deluded yourself about your chances with a prince. He’s shared a kiss with you, and called you (and called, and called) and can’t wait to see you again. All you have to do is seal the deal. You take him out in public and shred him like last year’s credit cards.

  Then Grimm knows where he’s going to be sulking, and arranges it so the prince bumps into a princess. She’s coy but charming, gentle, and quiet. She is a friend to talk to, and a hand to hold. Finally, it’s her lips he kisses, and by that time my name isn’t spoken between them. It’s cold, manipulative, easy, and damn near magic. Unless you’ve made the mistake of getting involved.

  I put on my sleek black dress, the one I always wore for this. Evangeline brought it to me the night I played this out the first time. I looked forward to our long-standing tradition of meeting for drinks when I’d done it. We’d spend the night commiserating, celebrating, and starting the process of forgetting by killing brain cells.

  I met Liam at Skeins, a German place I’d used for all my third dates. The remarkable thing about Skeins was the head chef. He was an absolute asshole. I’d never seen the same waiter there twice, which meant they never saw me coming. There’s a bar on the top floor of the building where I’d tried to kill my liver more nights than I wanted to remember. Also, Skeins had a wide balcony perfect for making men want to jump.

  I walked past the host, and caught myself at the edge of the dining room. Liam sat at a table alone, dressed in a suit that was obviously a hand-me-down from an age when people considered polyester fine cloth.

  Minutes passed, and still I stood, hidden in the doorway, watching. When the cell phone in my purse went off I nearly threw it out the window. I didn’t carry a cell phone except when I was working princes, and tonight would be the last time I’d use that one. No one else had the number.

  I flipped it open and answered. “Hello?”

  “M.” I recognized Evangeline’s voice.

  I wondered how on earth she got the number. Then again, I worked for a being who valued knowledge above even magic. “What do you want? I’m kind of busy.”

  “Grimm says you aren’t. Said you’re having problems with this one. You need help?”

  The way she said “help” reeked of “You want me to come bail you out again?” I spent the first two years learning from Evangeline. Now I worked every day to prove to her and everyone else that I could hold my own.

  “I don’t need you or anyone else. I’ll get this done. Tell Grimm he’ll be ready for the princess tomorrow.” A lump formed in my throat as I spoke those words, a cold knot like I’d swallowed an iceberg.

  “You have to do this, M, and do it right.”

  I knew that. We had a deal, Grimm and I. Grimm and my parents, Grimm and my sister. I thought of her. Last time I’d seen her she was two years old, pulling a wagon around and eating a Popsicle she said tasted “purple.” I’d never asked Grimm what would happen to Hope if I didn’t keep my end of the deal. I paid my debts.

  I hung up the phone and walked into the dining room, careful to fix my face into the right expression of disgust.

  “Evening,” Liam stood up as I walked in, and he took my jacket.

  I stepped away from the offered hug and gave him my most dismissive look as I sat down.

  Liam reached across the table to take my hand. “I ordered the scallions for you. You said you always wanted to try them. Since we’re eating on my dime, I thought you might want to try something special.”

  I carefully moved my hand away, keeping my eyes fixed on him, and flagged down the waiter. “I’m allergic to scallions,” I told the waiter. “Just bring me veal.” I’m not certain they actually had veal, but given my tone, the waiter wasn’t going to argue.

  “I’m sorry,” said Liam. “I didn’t know about that.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.” The food came out and we ate in silence. Liam would comment or ask questions, and I’d nod or answer in monosyllables, like every other time I’d done this. When dinner was done, and the band started to play, I knew it was time.

  “I can tell something is bothering you,” Liam said. His forehead was creased and he had barely touched his meal.

  “Really?” I asked, my tone shrill. “You think you can tell what is going on with me?”

  He recoiled. I knew he was realizing that something was going truly wrong. Really, it was the click of the trap. His lips moved as he tried to come up with a comforting response, but all that came out was, “Yes, I thought so.” He leaned across the table to put his hand on my shoulder and I shrugged him off, looking at his hand the same way I would a dead rat.

  “Look,” I scooted my chair slightly away from him. “I’m not certain what you think is going on between us.”

  His eyes went wide and a confused look passed across his face. I knew I’d hit the mark. He began to rub his fingers together and if he bit his lip any harder he’d draw blood. I was going to draw blood anyway.

  “I might have sent some mixed signals.”

  The cracks in his face opened wider. Any minute now he’d start trying to fix things. He put his hand to his temple. “I’m sorry. I thought, I mean, I thought maybe you—”

  I went for the kill, letting my voice rise to where the neighboring diners began to stare. “You thought maybe I liked you? Because I let you take me on a merry-go-round? Because you took me to the nastiest Italian restaurant in the entire city? Because you dragged me to some burned- out playground in a slum? What part of that says ‘romantic’ to you?” Every word cut my own heart. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to feel like anything.

  “Carousels and swings are for children, Liam. I’m an adult, and I thought perhaps you were one too. Obviously I was mistaken.”

  His face looked hollow, his eyes didn’t focus, and the edges of them shone. “I must have been mistaken too.”

  I swiped the check from the table and took my jacket. “Don’t bother with the check, and don’t bother calling.” I marched out of the room, and on the way I gave him one last look. I wasn’t supposed to. It wasn’t in the script, because it sent the wrong message. I looked back anyway, hoping that he was on his feet and coming after me. The others never came after me, but for one split-second I harbored a hope he would. I remember him sitting at the table with a half bottle of wine. I remember the band playing and couples dancing near the stage. I remember the magic flowing off of him as he cried, or maybe that was just my tears.

  • • •

  I RENTED A room for Goldy Locks, barricaded myself inside, and wept before the mirror until my makeup ran in rivulets down my cheeks. I turned on the faucet and the shower and left them running. Soon the mirror was covered in fog. Then I called him.

  “It’s done,” I said. I couldn’t keep my chin from trembling, and I’m sure my voice did too.

  He looked like an impressionist painting through the steam. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “A prince and princess belong together. It is the way of things.”

  Anger rushed through me, shielding me for a moment from the grief. I straightened up and glared at him. “I’m not the first girl sold for Glitter. Most of them wind up as handmaidens to a princess, or shopkeepers, or newspaper interns. Why did you make me an agent?”

  “Because, my dear, anything else would have been a waste. You are talented beyond most I have met, and bright, and strong. You would not have been happy in those other lives.”

  My shield of anger cracked and my hands shook. “I’m not happy here either. Don’t I deserve happiness?” I hoped he couldn’t hear me almost sobbing over the sounds of the water.

  He grayed out a little and came back into focus. “You do, my dear, you do.”

  My chest hurt with each breath. I stuck my hand into the scalding water, and held it there until the pain from it matched what I felt inside. “I don’t want Ari to have him. I want him for me.”

  He didn’t answer.
/>   “But I’m not a princess,” I said, knowing the cold truth of it.

  “I will have Evangeline handle the rest, Marissa. You do deserve to be happy, and you aren’t a princess, but that’s never made you less important in my eyes.”

  “Tell Evangeline I’m not coming to meet her. And remember I keep my end of the bargain, Grimm. Always.”

  He left me there in the bathroom, at last and always alone.

  My purse beeped, and I dumped it out to find the cell phone and a stack of forty-nine brand-new business cards with its number. They came in lots of fifty. I never needed more than one. I missed four calls since dinner, all from Liam.

  I walked out onto the balcony and looked at the city street below. Cars zipped past, leaving trails of light in the darkness. In my hand the cell phone chirped again. Three voice mail messages. Tradition said I should throw the phone off the balcony and let gravity do the heavy lifting, but my heart and my hands said different. I couldn’t call, ever. But I could keep the phone and listen to his voice, and have a tiny part of him. Ari and Grimm and the rest of the world would never know. So I went back inside and slipped the phone into my purse. Bruises on my arm where the goblin had grabbed sent tremors of pain through me every time I moved, but didn’t compare to the bruises on my heart I’d put there myself. The hours rolled away while I lay on the bed, aching my way through to dawn.

  Seven

  IT WAS TIME to go to work, but I couldn’t risk meeting Ari, so I went in through the service entrance. Evangeline waited in the back room, going over papers, and she came over and gave me a hug. “Heard about last night. You’ll get used to it eventually.”

  “I messed up. I got too close.”

  She poured me a cup of coffee. “Do this long enough and it won’t be the last time you screw up.” I didn’t intend to be doing it that long. Then again, neither had she.