Fae MisFortunes

by T K Eldridge

  “Good. I’m always here to work with you, Siddie. You’re one of my officers, but you’re my granddaughter first.”

  “Thanks, Grampa. Sin and I have been very careful to not take advantage of the fact you’re our grandfather. I think I took it too far and didn’t come talk to you when I realized I was having trouble.”

  I handed him the paperwork and he added the folder to the pile off to the side.

  “I’ll get this signed and processed for you today. Now, you asked me about what was bothering me. How much do you know about Marcel and Margaret Fortin?”

  “Very little, Grampa. I know Marcel helped you get the Academy running and the SPD started after the Species War. Grandma told me last night that her mother was born on the other side of the Veil, and the little blue book of stories came from her. That’s pretty much it, though.”

  “Marcel was my best friend. We met during the Civil War and he saved my life and I his. When the war was at its end, we found our way here, to Belle Cove. He had been born in the town and I had nowhere else to be, so I joined him. About a month after the war was declared over, we had been out hunting when we found two young women. They were in the woods, carrying several satchels and wearing odd clothing. They were frightened, thirsty, and one was injured. When they spoke, they were clearly not from the area, and both were very afraid of being seen. So, Marcel went and got his wagon and team, and I gave them my water while we waited.

  “Marcel had the farm and a modest house that he’d bought when we returned, so we brought them there. He had a better grasp of healing than I did, so he tended the injured woman’s wounded arm while I made some hot food. We learned that the two had come through the Veil, running for their lives. They were concerned that there would be others following them, so we kept them at the farm while Marcel and I took turns patrolling near the Veil. I did more patrols than Marcel as he had the farm to manage and I just lived in a boarding house.”

  I got up and refilled my coffee at the one cup machine, doing my best to remember every detail of his story.

  “What happened, Grampa?”

  “Early one morning, I felt something strange as I did my patrol. Like a vibration in the air that I felt under my skin. I did my best to move towards that feeling, when I found a team of three men in strange clothes, swords and bows in their hands. I had a rifle and two pistols, but if I shot at one, the other two would scatter and the pistols were only good if I were closer. So, I moved closer. I heard them say they had found the trail of the women, that they would finish them and get back to the Veil. I shot two of them, one with each pistol. When the third one ran, I used the rifle and took him out. I stripped the bodies and buried them, then went back to the farm and told Marcel what happened.

  “The next day I bought the brick house and the land that eventually became the Academy. We took a trip to the city and married the women, then came back home and began our lives. I took Bride Murphy to be my wife and Marcel took Margaret Fraser as his. Maggie and Marcel had grown close while he tended to her wounded arm, and Bride and I spent a lot of time walking and talking. This was before I killed the men and bought our house. Bride and I had discussed a great deal about what we wanted out of life. She was a wonderful woman and I miss her every day.”

  “I wish I’d had the chance to know her, Grampa,” I said.

  He chuckled. “You’re a lot like her. More like Maggie, though, I think.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Well, you’re strong and willful, like Bride, but you’re willing to burn it all down to protect what you believe is right, like Maggie. All good things, in moderation, my girl.”

  He took another sip of coffee, then continued. “We stayed close, Bride and I, with Marcel and Maggie. Our children were within a few years of each other and all was well. Until 1942, in the middle of World War II, the Species War happened. It started with unrest and civil disobedience that exploded into a four day battle that raged from the coast as far inland as the western edge of Sorsyville. Hundreds died, including Marcel and Maggie’s granddaughters, your mother’s sisters. Once it was over, we created the SPD and started the Academy to train the officers, using skills we’d learned over the decades. We mourned the lost, we buried the dead, and we did what we could to make things better for our children.”

  Grampa paused, gaze locked on the remnants of coffee in his cup. “Marcel was out with a rookie, doing a patrol, when he was shot and killed. The killer used cursed silver bullets – something created during the Species War that would take out both shifters and witches. It took him a few days to die, and losing him was like losing my right arm. I leaned on James then, and you know where that led us.” He huffed a soft breath. “About a week after Marcel died, Maggie packed up and left. She said she couldn’t live where he wasn’t around but all of the memories were. She left the farm and heirlooms to Alicia and headed overseas. I heard she was in Scotland or Ireland or somewhere, then the letters just stopped coming. We, Bride, Alicia and I, just assumed she had died. She was depressed and old enough to have chosen to Fade.”

  “Wait, no one knows if Margaret is really dead? And what do you mean, chosen to Fade?”

  “When a person has lived for two centuries or more, it can become exhausting to continue to exist. They start to feel the advancing years and can choose to just let go of life. It’s called The Fade. I only knew one person to do that and it was my grandmother’s sister. She was over four centuries and had had enough of life. We buried her body in the forest, beneath a tree. It’s what she wanted.”

  “Well, did someone say they buried her?”

  “No. We could not find any trace of her. People who had known of her existence, said she just was gone one day. Left all of her things behind.”

  “Do you think she went back across the Veil?” I asked.

  “I don’t think she would’ve done that. She and Bride escaped because Maggie had killed her first husband over there.”

  “She was married in Faery before she came here? Did she have children there?”

  “Maggie never said,” Grampa replied. “But I suspected she might have had at least one. She knew what to do and how to handle her pregnancy when she was carrying Alicia. No one in our little circle of friends had had children, so she learned it somewhere.”

  “So Grams lost her husband, her daughters, then her parents, all over the space of a couple of decades. Do you know how Grampa Pierre died?”

  “Hasn’t your grandmother ever told you?”

  “No. I don’t even think my mother knows how her father died.”

  “Well, it’s really not my…”

  “Grampa, if you dare say it’s not your story to tell, I’ll scream. Enough of the secrets. What happened to Pierre Fortin?”

  A heavy sigh and Grampa Walsh leaned back in his chair. “You know the farm was in your Grandma’s family and passed down to her from Maggie and Marcel, right?”

  “Yes, and the land Marcel bought after the Civil War had been in his family for about two hundred years before that, but he bought out his uncle and then added to it.”

  “Correct. Well, Alicia’s parents arranged her marriage to Pierre to strengthen the witch bloodline. They were purists before there was a Purist League. He was a weak man who preferred drinking and card playing to working the farm. Cosette was only a few months old when the Species War happened. Your grandmother had taken some things to a neighbor to trade and left Pierre with the four girls. Bernadette and Marie-Sidonie were adults and had their own children, but they lived in the other cottages on the farm. Marie-Sidonie’s husband, Kian Harpur, was armed and guarding the road into the farm. A band of raiders attacked the farm, trying to steal any food they could get. They killed Kian and your two aunts as they tried to protect the children. The four young ones were put in baskets in the storage cellar behind one of the other cottages. The raiders looted and burned sheds and tried to burn the houses, but they had been warded against that. When Alicia returned to the farm, Kian, B
ernadette and Marie-Sidonie were all dead, the babies were crying from inside the storage cellar, and Pierre was gone. He’d left a letter saying he couldn’t do this anymore. The weak bastard abandoned his family when they needed him most, left his daughters and grandchildren to die, and took a bag of coin, the best horse and some food, and disappeared. I heard that he was killed a few years later for cheating in a card game. But for Alicia? He died that day. She never spoke of him again.”

  I let out a breath. “Holy hell. No wonder Grams is such a strong woman. I can’t imagine.”

  “She sent a neighbor’s son to find me and Marcel. I got a hold of Bride. Marcel went and got Maggie. James, Brighid, and Brian all came to help bury the dead and put out the fires. I’ll never forget her that day, with four little ones – your mama the eldest at about four years old, and no other adults left. Maggie and Bride stayed for a few days to help get things sorted and settled, but she never called on anyone for help after that. She’s one in a million, Alicia is.”

  I sat in silence for a bit as I absorbed the story. We sipped coffee and finished off the muffins before I remembered a question. “Grampa? Who was the rookie that was out with Marcel?”

  His brow furrowed and he turned and pulled open a drawer in the wall unit behind him. He dug around a bit and pulled out a worn folder and laid it on his desk. When the file was opened, an old black and white photo stared up at us and I gasped as I looked up at my grandfather.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Grampa said, his voice gravelly. “I should’ve remembered that. Looks like I need to have a talk with Prudence Corby right the hell now. Sid? Would you step out and ask Lacey to call Officer Corby to my office immediately? And then make yourself scarce. I don’t want you near her.”

  “Understood, Sir.” I walked around the desk and gave him a hug. “I love you, Grampa. Stay safe, okay? Let me know how it goes.”

  He hugged me back and cleared the folder from his desk before I stepped out and had Lacey make the call. Then I went and found my new office and started my day, but my thoughts were not on my work. They were on the woman who had caused my grandma’s father to be killed in the line of duty, and who had shown such hatred to myself and my brother that we did not feel safe around her. I trusted the Commander to be able to handle her just fine, but to say I wasn’t nervous would be a lie.

  I spent a couple of hours going over files and trying to get some analysis done on the older kidnapping cases, but information gathering fifty years ago is very different than what police do now. There just wasn’t as much to work with.

  The ringing of my cell interrupted my process and I answered. I probably sounded distracted as I said “Boudreau here.”

  “Sid?” the woman’s voice said.

  “Yes, that’s me, who’s this?”

  “Missy Duchamp. I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I think we need to talk. Could you come by?”

  “Do you need me to come by now or is this evening okay?”

  “Um, sooner would be better.”

  I paused and listened very carefully. “Missy, are you in danger right now?”

  “No, I’m fine. But it would be really good if you could be here soon.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Nope, I’ve got coffee. See you soon.”

  “I hear you, Missy. Stay safe. I’m on the way.” I hung up the phone and thought for a minute. Sin, for all intents and purposes, was on house arrest to keep an eye on Ethan. Grampa was busy with Corby and that mess. I needed backup that could be subtle. I called Ian.

  “Tieman,” he answered.

  “Hey Ian, it’s Sid. I need to go to Missy Duchamp’s and I’d like some backup.”

  “I thought you were doing analyst work for us now, not street?”

  “Yeah, that’s true, but Missy has become a friend, Ian. And she called me. She’s not alone at her place and she asked specifically for me to come visit. I need to get there and I am not going to be stupid and show up alone. So, are you coming? Or what?”

  “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

  He disconnected the call and I grabbed my phone and keys. I had to trust that the Commander could take care of himself and that Sin could protect Ethan. I needed to help Missy.

  Ian pulled up to the door in his Charger and I got into the passenger’s seat.

  “Do you know where Missy lives?”

  “I looked it up and put it in the GPS. What do you think is going on?”

  “I have no idea. She was careful to tell me that she wasn’t alone without letting whomever was listening that she had clued me in. Something is off, but she didn’t sound scared, just sketchy.”

  “You want me to come in or wait?”

  “Come in with me. We might have to play it off as something other than two cops, are you good with that?”

  “Of course, whatever you need. I am glad you called me, Sid. I wouldn’t want to walk into this situation without a backup either.”

  We pulled up to Missy’s house. Her car was in the driveway, along with a gleaming black Ducati motorcycle.

  “That motorcycle is not Missy’s. She does have company. Heads up, my friend.”

  “Mind if I’m your handsy boyfriend?”

  “If we need to, go for it. I’ll just punch you in the junk later,” I said with a laugh.

  “Oy, woman. Don’t threaten my future children,” Ian laughed and took my hand as we walked up to the front door.

  Missy came to the door and gave Ian a look.

  “Hey Missy, this is Ian, my boyfriend. We were going to go out to dinner but I told him you wanted me to stop by, so he came with me. I needed the ride, y’know?”

  “That’s fine, I’m sure. Come on in, both of you,” Missy said and opened the door wider.

  We stepped inside and followed Missy towards the dining room where a man with dark curly hair, tanned skin and bright blue eyes.

  I looked from the man to Missy and quirked a brow. “I didn’t know you had company, Missy.”

  “He’s not just my company, he’s also here to meet you,” Missy said. “Sidonie Boudreau, this is Finn MacCumhaill, Prince of the Realm. Of Faery.”

  “I see. Well, Finn, this is Ian Tieman,” I said and sat down across from him. Ian sat beside me at the end of the table, putting himself between Finn and me.

  “Would anyone like a drink? I have water, ginger-ale, coffee, tea…” Missy asked.

  “I’d like some ginger-ale, thanks,” I said.

  “Water is fine for me,” said Ian.

  Finn sipped from the glass of water in front of him.

  Once the drinks had been delivered, I took a sip and watched Missy sit at the other end of the table.

  “Now, Prince Finn. What did you want this meeting for?” I asked.

  Long fingers tapped the glass before he looked up and met my gaze. “Just call me Finn, please. The children being taken were not supposed to be taken yet. Someone is kidnapping my children to hurt me and the royal family. I’d like to help you keep the others safe and stop this person.”

  “I see. And what do you expect us to do, that we haven’t been doing?” I asked.

  “I can tell you where my other children are and you can protect them. I’m one man, and even if I bring over help, I can’t trust some of them won’t be swayed by my enemy’s words and ways, and I cannot protect all of them.”

  “And how do we get back the ones already taken?”

  “That may not be possible. You don’t understand…”

  “Oh, I understand,” I said, leaning forward and staring into his eyes, my fury visible. “You’re taking the children to feed your little pocket world so it will keep running. They’re fuel for your personal paradise, with no regard for what happens to the families they leave behind. Two people are dead and a boy is left without his parents, four other families are broken at the loss of their children, and my brother’s Chosen – her son is a baby and is afraid to leave his house and play outside because the bad men keep trying to tak
e him. This is not okay.”

  Ian rested a hand on my shoulder while Finn scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “I know,” Finn said. “It’s a mess and I’ve tried to fix it. My father is behind the latest kidnappings, and he has let anger and old jealousies poison him. My own half-brother was responsible for Jack Duchamp’s death.”

  “His own grandchildren? He’s using them against you?” I asked.

  “Aye, and I may have to do to him what his mother did to his father. My great-grandfather is Fionn MacCumhaill, the King of the Realm. He has maybe another century before he will step down and let his heir take the throne. But that heir used to be my father, Brendan the second. Something has poisoned my father’s mind and he has become unstable and twisted. The King and I have tried getting him treatment, have tried many things, and none work. He has been imprisoned in a luxurious suite in the castle, but somehow he has convinced others to do his work for him. We’ve tried weeding out this darkness, but it is insidious. Now, it is claiming my own children.”

  “What did his mother do to his father?” Ian asked.

  “The king’s son, Brendan the first, was the first to steal fae-witch children to raise in Faery. He discovered that the mixed powers helped bolster the dimensional strength better than just fae-blood children. When his wife discovered what he was doing, they had a fight and she killed him. Margaret left her son, my father, in the care of the Queen. Queen Grainne gave Margaret her own serving woman, Bride, to help her escape and supplied them with enough to get them through the Veil and away. The story goes that Grainne knew her son was damaged and she told Fionn that if Margaret hadn’t defended herself, Brendan would have killed Margaret and their babe. The King and Queen protected the baby Brendan, but some of the royals enemies went after Margaret and Bride. They never returned and eventually the search ended.”

  I sucked in a breath and stared at Finn. “Shit. We’re cousins.”

  “What?” Finn said.

  “Margaret Fraser married Marcel Fortin and had Alicia Meline Fortin, my grandmother. She, in turn, had four daughters, two of whom still live. One is my mother, Amelia Fortin Boudreau. Bride Murphy married Liam Walsh. They had a daughter, Brighid. Brighid married James Boudreau. Their son, Andre Boudreau, is my father.”