A Mate Worse Than Death

by J. L. Ray

  Cal thought about it a minute and started rumbling. “It’s a picture!” He added more seriously, “How about I just go use the Booth and try to contact without travel? If I can get the right Operator on the horn, I might not have to go realm jumping.”

  “Oh shit!” Tony smacked her forehead. “I bet the Lieutenant didn’t even think about how close Berthell is to...uh,” she paused, “ can I say pop?”

  “Sure! She would. Why not?”

  “So, my point. You better talk to the Lieutenant first, huh?”

  In the end, Lt. Azeem decided that calls might tip off a potentially guilty party, but also that Cal should not, in fact, be out-realm this close to Berthell’s due date. All offspring are precious to the Supers, though of course, for some Supers in other realms, that is because they’re precious items on the dinner menu. Not so for the Supers in Mundania, who had more trouble procreating here than in the Fairie Realms. In any case, Azeem didn’t like the idea of having to tell Berthell exactly why he had sent Cal off at the worst possible moment for her. Also, for some of the more violent Supernaturals, the stress of birthing could cause regression to former bad habits, habits like dismemberment and mayhem. So having Cal in the birthing room with Berthell was non-negotiable. He had to be there, or the Geas might be activated and put Berthell down.

  “Detective Newman,” Azeem growled, then stopped.

  “Sir?” she asked, trying as hard as possible to be respectful, laid back, and upbeat while inside she was saying “Oh please, oh please, oh please.”

  The Lieutenant sighed, but continued, “I will need for you to go out-realm, but I don’t have personnel right now to send with you. I have a call in to someone who is free to accompany you and who will be able to protect you while you travel. Unfortunately, this Being is also someone who is ‘of interest’ in the case.”

  At those words, Cal, who had been happy for his partner because he knew how much she wanted to see the otherworlds, looked up with his mouth open, anticipating the next words from the Lieutenant’s mouth.

  “Mephistopheles is going to escort you.”

  “No way!” Cal yelled, and when the Lieutenant shot him a look, he blanched and added, “Sir! That guy is a sleezeball.”

  Azeem looked at Cal for a full minute without speaking, long enough for Cal to review his life and wonder why he didn’t listen to Tony more often and keep his lip zipped. When rolls of sweat began beading off of Cal’s forehead, Azeem finally broke the silence.

  “Detective Kelly,” he purred, at his most dangerous, “I don’t remember asking your opinion of Mephistopheles, who, while a person of interest, is also an old friend of mine. We go way back. He also has the most to lose if the Geas acts without our intervention. It is likely to kill him as part of the response to this crime.”

  Cal tossed a wild-eyed look down at Tony, who lifted one side of her mouth in a grin and shook her head. Then she came to his rescue.

  “Sir, Cal took offense to Phil’s treatment of me. He got a bit...” she paused and Cal faked a cough and said, “Sleezy.” She glared at him, “A bit familiar. I think Cal’s just being a good partner.”

  Azeem smiled, not the most reassuring expression on a Sphinx. “Duly noted. However, a ‘good partner’ would trust his partner to know what she is doing.”

  “Yes, sir,” Cal nodded miserably.

  Azeem turned to Tony and added, “But having said that, watch your back. He has a long” he grimaced, “and well-earned reputation in seduction of many kinds. Don’t compromise your objectivity on this case. I hope he is cleared, but no one is in the clear yet.”

  Tony nodded, “Sir, I promise. I am just not that easy.”

  Cal snorted and headed toward his desk. “I guess I start on the Mundane leads. You better go get geared up for the trip.”

  Azeem added, “You have your Last Will and Testament on record with Natural/Supernatural Resources?”

  Tony and Cal looked at each other, and Cal started to protest, but Tony threw her left hand out to stop him. Without turning around she called out, “Did it the first day on the job with the SCIB, sir, as required. And my latest update was just last week.”

  “Good. Record a potential farewell for your parents before you go. And good luck.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Getting geared up for the trip meant a trip down to the armory to get a few special items to make it possible for a Natural to be able to go to a realm in the otherworlds and return intact. Some regions of the otherworlds were so inhospitable that even the creatures of legend did not go there. But Tony didn’t need that kind of protection since no one she was questioning would be desperate enough to have exiled itself to such a place. Her job was simple, routine police investigation with one gargantuan catch. Few magical creatures would allow questions from Naturals at all, and if they did, well, there was always a riddle to answer or a door to choose or some other trick to try to give nothing for something, that something usually being the life of the Natty asking the questions.

  These mismatched contests were a constant theme in the fairy tale books of old, and in the 1980s, those books became history books. Therefore, handling such situations became a part of the training for all Nattys and their partners training for Supernatural Crimes Investigation branches. The training included courses such as “Answering Extreme Riddles” and “Right vs. Ethical Choices for Naturals”. The goal in any partnership was to have the Super partner question other Supers, but the coursework always tried to anticipate worst case scenario. Tony figured she’d probably become a textbook case and simply hoped she could get back to do the lecture herself one day.

  The armory supervisor, Glinda, looked up as Tony walked in and her laughter tinkled like the tiniest, most annoying set of wind chimes. “Oh my dear! Are you a good detective, or a bad detective?”

  Tony grinned at her, “Hiya Glinda, how’s it going?” When the Curse, the Great Geas, hit in the 1980s, Glinda the, supposedly, Good found herself bound to serve and protect by protecting those who had to travel to otherworlds. Tony wanted to ask Glinda how she ended up working in law enforcement, but she had developed a healthy respect for all witches, especially since the case she and Cal had worked that had ended with the capture of Teraphina. She had learned during that particular case that an angry witch was a wicked witch, no question about it. So when it came to Glinda’s work status, there was no way she’d ever bring that topic up. Now if Glinda brought it up herself, sure, she’d push it. But so far, it hadn’t happened and she had to control the curiosity that made her a good detective.

  “Perhaps,” Glinda trilled in her babydoll voice, because that tidbit from Fleming’s movie was accurate, even if “Good” might not be, “you have been very good and you get to travel.” She cocked her head to one side, her impossibly large, shimmering crown staying on her head at that angle like, well, magic. “But I suspect you are about to be very, very bad!” She shook a finger at the detective, actually looking a bit angry, which puzzled Tony.

  “I couldn’t tell you, G. All I know is that one of us has to go follow leads on Lilith’s murder in the otherworlds, and Cal’s wife is too close to her due date, so I’ve got to go.”

  Glinda turned her head down again and looked up at Tony with a sly, feral smile unlike her normally studied, child-like innocence, “And you go all alone into the unknown?” she asked.

  Tony raised both eyebrows, “Well, no. The Lieutenant saddled me with a civilian Super to make sure I could get in, get answers, and get back, without any problems.”

  Glinda’s laughter trilled again, like broken glass. “Saddled? Without problems? Oh Detective Tony, that is so funny!”

  Tony rarely had trouble with Supers. She was far too easy-going to take offense at their almost biological need to game the Nattys, and she’d always gotten along with Glinda. They’d even gone out to ladies night at Club Sidhe over in Georgetown a few times. She was puzzled by Glinda’s aggressive behavior toward her, until she was blinded by the answer to
Glinda’s bad attitude, which arrived in the form of an overdressed, smooth-talking demon.

  “Glinda, mon ange,” Mephistopheles glided in the door, his Diesel jeans hugging his ass, his button-down shirt unbuttoned just enough to make the viewer want to ease a few more open to enjoy the view. He sauntered over to the counter where Glinda held court and lifted her wand hand and brought it slowly to his lips, pausing midway to glance up at her under his brows in a look that threatened to make Tony’s knees go weak just from watching before he finally ended the gesture in a kiss to the palm that set off Glinda’s tinkling laughter once again.

  “Oh, Phil,” she murmured breathlessly, “it’s too bad you’re going out of world. I was hoping we could,” she glanced over at Tony and quite rudely shifted to one of the languages of Fairie. Since it was more closely linked to the language of Earthly whales than Earthly humans, Tony found herself wincing and poking at her ear, trying to make it stop.

  Mephistopheles laughed as she finished and said, patting the wand hand he still strategically held, “Ah, but Glinda, duty of a very different kind calls! I must make sure that my work is not disrupted by someone murdering my clients. I must go with this poor human and make sure she can obtain and return with information unscathed.” He changed from a pat to a stroke and Glinda’s eyes slitted like a cat’s. Tony watched all but open-mouthed at this display, wondering if Glinda would start purring next.

  “Well,” Glinda murmured, her baby-doll voice gone husky, “let’s get you two ready for the trip, shall we?”

  Thirty minutes later, Tony stood looking down at a hideous, brown, cowl-necked robe, so similar to a medieval monk’s habit that she kept touching the back of her head to make sure her long, chestnut-colored hair was intact and no tonsure had magically changed her style. Phil gave her a smoldering smile, and she frowned at him as Glinda puttered around her, making thoughtful little noises as she touched her wand to the garment and ignored the detective’s reaction.

  “Uh, G?” Tony finally asked, having patiently put up with being tented out in the musty, scratchy fabric. “So, I’m guessing this is some kind of cammie?”

  Phil snickered and muttered, “Not the kind I like.”

  Glinda grinned at him, and Tony suddenly noticed that she had rather pointy little teeth. So not reassuring. But Glinda turned to Tony and nodded, “Oh my dear, in this, no one will notice you are even there. Apparently even Phil,” she giggled. “It exudes ‘look-away’ spells that will allow Phil to do the questioning and all you have to do is prompt him. No one will hear you but him, and that way, easy-peasy, you’ll go” she lilted, “and then you’ll return! And no one the wiser but you!” She turned to bat her eyes at Phil, “Maybe you’ll even make it home in time for dinner,” and she giggled again and ran a hand up the front of his chest where his shirt gaped open.

  Tony decided to pretend she had no idea what kind of meal Glinda had on her mind. “Uh huh,” Tony muttered as she tried to pull the incredibly scratchy cloth away from her body. “Any other goodies we may need?”

  Phil smiled at Glinda and patted her hand before peeling it gently from his chest.

  She giggled again, which was really beginning to get on Tony’s last nerve, and then she turned to Tony. “I have a bag for you with provisions for the trip.” She walked to the large counter that fronted the armory office. “When the Lieutenant called down, he asked me to prepare a little bag of tricks for you, so here it is.” She opened a drawer and pulled out an enormous tote, a Louis Vuitton Wilshire GM in bright red.

  Tony looked at the bag, then at Glinda. “G. You are killing me. That’s not a purse. It’s a suitcase. A big, shiny, red, attention-grabbing, designer suitcase.”

  Glinda cocked her head in question.

  “Will a look-away spell cover something this...loud?” Tony asked.

  “As long as you keep this on your arm, no one will see it but you or Phil,” Glinda trilled at her.

  Tony sighed. Her purse, which lived in her locker most of the time, was a nylon Baggallini travel purse that cost about forty dollars. The red thing she’d be carrying retailed for closer to $2,500. Still, it probably held some interesting bits not found in her Baggallini. “What little extras are in there?”

  Glinda reached in, far in, so far in it looked like she was going to fall into the purse. “I believe we have included a few memory spells,” she pulled one out and showed it to them. “These look like eggs. Simply fling them at the ground in front of the creature you need to forget you--they work on any living thing within a five foot radius of them, so hold your breath!” She dropped the egg in and then dug around and pulled out a twig, “This is medicinal.”

  Tony broke in, “So we chew that?”

  Glinda laughed, “Oh no. Phil?”

  “This is rowan,” he murmured to Tony, “and you touch it to whatever...” he paused and looked up and down her, “part of you needs healing.”

  “O--kay,” Tony shook her head. Then she looked at Glinda. “That’s kind of a large bag for two items.”

  Glinda reached in her arm, but then pulled it back out. “Oh, of course, I added food and water. You can’t eat or drink anything there, or you’ll have to stay. There are several other useful items in here, but Phil has the inventory. The most important is that you have transportation.”

  “A spell?”

  “A motorcycle.”

  “Uh...in that bag?”

  “It’s very versatile and roomy.”

  “And red.”

  Phil stopped them. “Enough. It is time to go.”

  Tony nodded. “No monk’s robe for Phil?” She looked around. “Uh, Phil?” She looked around once again, with Glinda giggling all the while, and at that moment she heard Phil whispering in her ear, so close to her that the heat of his breathe tickled her neck and sent a chill down her back. It also made her remember her dream from last night and suddenly she was very glad that neither Glinda nor Phil could read thoughts since hers had suddenly gone a bit R-rated.

  “I’m right here,” Phil breathed into her ear. “No look-away spells needed.” She turned to the voice and bumped her head against his nose as he suddenly reappeared next to her.

  “Ouch!” He rubbed his nose.

  “Nice trick. Let’s go.”

  Phil shrugged at Glinda and the two of them headed out of the armory to the station’ portal door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Any city in the United States with a Super population over 5,000 Beings had a portal. Again, like so many things after the Outing, those just appeared. They were generally linked to some kind of law enforcement building where the Supernatural Crimes Investigation branch supervisor had dominion over the traffic through the portal. In cities like D.C., where the population of Supers rose considerably above 5,000, more than one portal existed. Oddly, in some really small towns, like Pumpkintown, North Carolina, for example, more than one portal existed. While Pumpkintown had only one stoplight, it also had close to 15,000 Supers in the form of several colonies of pixies living in the Appalachian foothills, and accommodating that much potential foot traffic seemed to be the main criterion for portal manifestation. Any Supernatural creature could travel between the portals, but not all could do so safely or permanently. The situation was a little like musical chairs. When the Geas went into effect, everyone had to grab a realm and most had to stay--the music had essentially stopped for most. Most Supers just knew whether or not they could travel, but the ability to go through the portal didn’t seem to have any kind of clear, logical criteria. Several different universities with large, new Supernatural Anthropology divisions were exploring the issue, but so far they had no clear conclusions on it.

  Oddly, Naturals could go through the portals, but the problem with hopping realms came from the Supers in those other realms. Unlike those in Mundania after the Great Change, they weren’t required to play nicely, and few Naturals had the defenses needed to survive such encounters. For the most part, portal travel involved quick visits
home by Mundania’s Supernatural community. The exceptions to that generally involved criminal activity or sad attempts by homesick Supers to return to their origin realms. Those never worked out, and the Supers who tried found out that they could not, in fact, go home again.

  Naturally, the portal that Tony would be going through was in her District office because her unit was there, near Dupont Circle. Near the edge of D.C. in Upper Northwest D.C., a second Super Unit also had a portal. The FBI’s J. Edgar Hoover building housed a third portal since the Federal government had its own Supernatural Crimes Investigation division as well, though they dealt specifically with kidnapping cases, especially changeling incidents, which were at an all-time high, despite the Geas. The fourth portal in D.C., oddly enough, had manifested in the basement of a fire house near the Southwest/Waterfront district. The spread of portals in highly populated areas corresponded to where the Supers lived rather than any logical placement.

  While the placement was odd, the number wasn’t. There were over 20,000 Supers in D.C., if for no other reason than the Senators and Representatives from each state who had to reside in the city in order to function in the Federal legislative branches of government. After the Great Change, the new politicos had appeared on the roster overnight, and the Supreme Court battle over their staying in office had gotten ugly beyond belief, despite the daunting appearance of both Old King Cole, a light Fae, and Baba Yaga, a dark fae, as the 10th and 11th Justices on the Court. However, during the court battle, the GOOENs had appeared to the full Supreme Court in chambers, and while all eleven Justices kept silent about the content of the discussion that followed, suddenly all arguments against having Supers in any role of government died a swift, painless death. The other nations of Mundania had changed just as quickly, with only a few pockets of resistance to the influence of magic, most of those in the Middle East. The Geas allowed those pockets, but The Powers That Be tightly monitored them.