by Helen Harper
Harry stared at me for one very long moment. ‘You’re not joking about any of this, are you?’
‘Nope.’ I pointed at my pint. ‘I don’t need beer. I need tequila. And lots of it.’ I raised my head to indicate to the barman and get his attention. Harry, however, grabbed me instead.
‘Whoa there. Before you getting yourself the mother of all hangovers, let’s back track. This is your dream job, Saffron. If you feel like this at the end of your first day then you make damned sure that your second day is more of a success. Go back to the beginning. This time,’ he said, ‘I want every single detail. Especially about those abductions.’
I sighed. Then I started again, without leaving anything out. Although Harry remained stony faced, he listened without comment until I’d completely finished.
‘So,’ he said, when I finally stopped talking and began to swiftly drink instead, ‘you’ve nicked those wish cards because …’
‘… because,’ I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, ‘I want to see if the places or the people here match up to anyone on my client list. If I’m being sent to the same places as those faery godmothers who’ve vanished then Billy’s theory that I’ve been hired to be nothing more than bait will be correct.’ I gave him a side long look. ‘Remember what the trolls used to say. It’s not paranoia if they’re really after you.’
‘The trolls all died in a freak accident,’ he murmured, ‘as you well know from all those modern history lessons at school. No-one was after them. And nobody knows what the trolls used to say either because they always avoided faeries like the plague.’
I shrugged. ‘So we’ve been told. My grandfather met one once. He said that he was actually a nice chap.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ He picked up the first card. ‘Let’s focus on the living instead, shall we?’ He scanned through the card’s details. ‘Boris here was sent to someone called Alice Fairworthy who lives in the Lake District.’ He raised a questioning eyebrow in my direction.
‘Nope.’ I shook my head. ‘None of my clients live there and the name doesn’t ring a bell.’
He placed the card face down. ‘Next. Spencer Goldberg. Notting Hill, London.’
I hissed through my teeth. I’d already memorized the list Adeline had given me. I knew without looking that my third client was Rachel Goldberg. Also Notting Hill, London. They were probably related.
Harry noted my expression and began a new pile. Then he took another card. ‘Denzel Forrest. Birmingham.’
‘No.’ I breathed out.
He nodded and put the card down. ‘Mick Jones. Aberystwyth.’
Shit. ‘Yes. One of my clients lives there too.’
He cycled through the rest of the cards. There were four distinct names which I had that matched with those clients who both Boris and Lydia had worked with before they’d disappeared. Then Harry picked up the final card. ‘Luke Wells,’ he said. ‘Ox…’
I interrupted him. ‘Oxford University.’
Harry very deliberately put the card down in the match pile. ‘Yes.’
I reached across him and picked the card up again, reading the rest of the details. Request – Unknown. Lydia DuChamp had never even managed to find out what Luke wanted. She must have been abducted before she’d properly investigated him.
Harry looked at me questioningly and I sighed. ‘He’s the client I had today. The fact that Lydia also had him as a client right before she was abducted pretty much says it all.’ My mouth tightened into a thin line and I wrapped my arms around myself. ‘It’s true then,’ I said distantly. ‘They really are sending me out to the same places as those other faeries. I really am bait.’ It was bad enough when I thought I’d only been brought in to make up the numbers. Now that I knew I was being dangled out there in order for the faery kidnapper to make a move on me, I felt physically sick. Not to mention incandescently angry. This was my dream – and it was already becoming a nightmare.
‘It certainly looks that way.’ Harry’s voice was heavy. ‘Fucking hell, Saffron. And they didn’t have the decency to tell you that your life might be in danger.’
‘I’m not one of them, am I? I’m expendable.’
He drew himself back and glared. ‘You are not expendable. You are Saffron Sawyer. You’re the best dope faery that department has ever seen. You will not let these faery godmother fuckers get the better of you. You will show them that you have the ability to be the very best.’ He punched my arm. ‘Got that?’
‘Ow.’ I rubbed the spot where he’d hit me. ‘That hurt.’
He punched me again. ‘Got that?’ he repeated.
‘Jeez. Yes, I’ve got that. Anything to stop you beating me up.’
‘Stop complaining. You’re the toughest person I know, Saffron. We’re going to put our heads together and work out a way out of this. But you’re right. First of all, what we need is tequila.’
‘Amen,’ I muttered.
We de-camped to a quiet table at the back of the pub where we wouldn’t be disturbed, bottle and shot glasses in hand.
‘You’ve done a better job so far than you’ve given yourself credit for,’ Harry told me, after the first bone juddering shot. ‘You’ve got this Billy guy on your side, not to mention Rupert as well.’
‘Rupert will lose interest as soon as it’s clear I’m not about to jump his bones in the office toilets,’ I said.
Harry made a face. ‘Yuck. Don’t do that.’
I half smiled. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘In any case, it’s not just those two. You’ve been polite and smiley to everyone else. On the face of it, you’ve given not one person in that office any cause to despise you.’
‘Apart from,’ I reminded him, ‘the Director herself.’ Who’d been surprisingly nicey nice to me so far. But then that was suspicious in itself.
‘Lydia Thingy’s ear didn’t actually strike the Director in the face and you didn’t even know that it was her ear until the Mean Faery began screaming. It was an accident.’ He shrugged. ‘Don’t dwell on it. You’ve got bigger problems.’
True that. ‘So you’re saying that I should continue being Miss Happy?’ I asked.
‘And then some. When they go low, you go high. Don’t let them beat you down. No matter what anyone else says to you, remind yourself that you want to be a faery godmother. You’re thrilled to be there.’
I nodded. ‘Thrilled. Yep. Got it.’
‘Maybe if you can get to know all your co-workers better, you’ll find your inside man and solve the case. Keep chatting to that Delilah woman. As annoying and gossipy as she might be, you can wrap her round your little finger in no time. I reckon this receptionist woman will be an easy nut to crack too.’
‘I just have to remember to call her Mrs Jardine.’
‘That’s not hard. You can do that.’
I nodded again. ‘I can.’
‘Next, training or no training, do your job and do it well. Go back to this Luke kid and sort out a proper wish for him.’
I wrinkled my nose. ‘I got pulled away though. I’m not sure I’ll be able to go back.’
Harry’s expression was stern. ‘Try. Rupert told you that faery godmothers have to investigate to get to the root of clients’ wishes. That has to take more than one visit.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Find out what he wants. And give it to him.’ He poured himself another shot and raised it to his mouth. Then he thought better of it and put it down on the table again. ‘When people make a wish, they say the wish. They don’t blow on an eyelash and merely say I wish.’
I frowned. ‘Yeah. So?’
‘So why don’t the details of their wishes show up on the wish cards along with their names? Wouldn’t it make life a lot easier?’
I thought about it. ‘Maybe wishes change over time so it’s easier for the magic to add the client’s name to the Adventus cauldron rather than the wish.’
‘Uh huh.’ He bobbed his head but he didn’t look convinced.
I g
azed at him. The tequila on my empty stomach was already dulling my tired, misery-laden brain. It was clear, however, that Harry had thought of something which hadn’t yet occurred to me. I scrunched up my face and thought harder. ‘Last week,’ I said slowly, ‘if I could have had one wish granted, it would be to receive my dream job as a faery godmother. Today,’ I continued, ‘I’m on the verge of running to Jacob and begging him to take me back as a dope faery.’
Harry grinned approvingly. ‘Be careful what you wish for.’
I sat up straighter. ‘We have to investigate and find out what the clients’ wishes are,’ I said. I snapped my fingers. ‘But what if they don’t know what their wishes are themselves?’
‘Indeed.’ Harry picked up his glass again, this time swallowing the contents in one go. ‘Becky might wish for a pair of shoes. But what she wants isn’t a pair of shoes. It’s the financial security to not have to worry about money and to be able to buy shoes whenever she wants them.’
‘Or,’ I said, warming to the topic, ‘Becky wants a new pair of shoes because what she’s really wishing for is for the new guy next door to notice her. She wants to be loved.’
‘Maybe she’s got arthritis and she has wished for new shoes because her body aches so much.’
‘So what she wants is to feel normal and pain free again.’ I gave him an enthusiastic nod. ‘In fact her underlying desire could be anything. Shoes have nothing to do with it.’
‘You can’t take anything at face value,’ Harry said. ‘If you want to be an effective faery godmother, you have to forget about what your client says they wish for and instead be a therapist, a private detective, and then Santa Claus all rolled into one. Remember that and it doesn’t matter what else happens. You’ll be incredible at your job.’ He patted my arm. ‘You were always going to be incredible at your job. You just needed a bit of support with it. If those godmothers won’t support you, it doesn’t matter. I’ll always be here.’
I sniffed. I was starting to feel quite teary and emotional which was most unlike me. ‘Everyone should have a friend like you, Harry.’
He wagged a warning finger in my face. ‘No crying. Saffron Sawyer does not do crying. Not today anyway. Cry tomorrow if you need to. Today we are too busy.’ He reached into his pocket and passed me over a handkerchief. I blew my nose into it.
‘Fanks.’
‘No problem.’ He rested his chin on his hands. ‘Now that we’ve solved the easy part, let’s think about the hard part. There’s a faery kidnapper on the loose who’s clearly not afraid to use violence. The godmothers are lining you up next in his sights. How do we make sure you keep both your ears? Not to mention that my complexion doesn’t suit black, Saffron, as you well know. If you die I won’t go to your funeral.’
‘You’re all heart.’
He threw me a worried look. ‘Seriously though. Maybe I should take some holiday time and hang around you. Be a bodyguard or something.’
‘You’ve got rainbows to make and faery twins to usurp,’ I said sternly. ‘Besides, defense won’t win the day here. This is about attack.’
He scratched his head. ‘What do you mean?’
‘If I want to stay safe, keep my pretty shell-like ears attached to my head, make a name for myself as a brilliant faery godmother, and generally remain utterly amazing, then what I need to do is to find whoever is behind the disappearances. I have to solve the crime. There’s no other choice.’
‘Easier said than done.’
‘I’m Saffron the Superb,’ I slurred. ‘You know, I don’t think this can be an inside job at all. As unfriendly as most of my co-workers are, I don’t think any of them is daft enough to actually kidnap five faery godmothers. Even if they wanted to do it, it would be far too easy. My gut is telling me that despite what the evidence is saying, someone else is behind all this.’ I set my jaw. ‘I will find out who. And I’ve already got an idea about where to begin. I will take him down before he takes me down and I become the hero in the process.’
Harry grinned. ‘I’ll drink to that.’ He poured us another two shots and we clinked glasses. ‘Bottoms up.’ He leaned forward and pointed at my ID card which I’d forgotten to remove when I’d left the office. ‘Now tell me two things. First of all, what on earth is that thing around your neck? Is that supposed to be you?’
I made a face.
‘Secondly,’ Harry said, ‘And most important of all, is the Devil’s Advocate really as dark and scary as everyone says?’
Chapter Eleven
My alarm went off at 4am. It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened but, at that moment in time, it kind of felt like it. Then I remembered that I was a) a genuine, honest-to-goodness faery godmother who needed to make her mark and b) my life was being threatened. With those thoughts in my head, I sprang up and propelled myself into the shower.
Less than twenty minutes later, I was out on the streets. I no longer had the same Metafora access to my dope faery clients as I used to but that didn’t mean I didn’t think I could still find them, especially at this time in the morning. Even without the presence of hard drugs in his system, Duncan didn’t sleep well. He’d already be up, waiting in his tiny bedsit for dawn to break. I didn’t need my case files to check his address; I’d committed it to heart long ago. I was particularly fortunate that he also lived near by to me. I couldn’t afford the time it would take to travel halfway across the country when I didn’t have magic to aid me. I still had to get myself to the faery godmother offices by 8.30am. No matter what else had occurred yesterday, I wasn’t about to show up late on only my second day.
Surprisingly, the building where Duncan’s room was situated was in a remarkably well-heeled part of town. No doubt the residents in the expensive houses nearby were none too impressed that there was a charity-led house of multiple occupancy right on their doorstep. People always laid far too much emphasis on the social status of their neighbours, when they should be concerning themselves with whether they were nice enough to pass over a cup of sugar when required and respectful enough to keep the noise levels to a minimum. In truth, the only thing I could hear around here was the muted twitterings as the birds began to grow restless for the start of a new day.
I walked up to the heavy blue front door and located the buzzer for Duncan’s room. Due to the fact that I was here unofficially, I couldn’t afford to leave any magical trace behind me. It wasn’t so much that I’d get into trouble for checking up on an old client and more that it wasn’t de rigeur to interfere with another faery’s caseload. I didn’t know who was now responsible for Duncan’s drug-filled dreams and I didn’t want to rouse any suspicions or ruffle any feathers.
As I’d suspected, it didn’t take long for Duncan’s tinny voice to answer me. He didn’t sound sleepy in the slightest, although his voice was laden with suspicion. That was only natural; it was still ridiculous o’clock.
‘Who is it? What do you want?’
I kept my own tone soft and pleasant. ‘It’s me, Duncan. I’ve got what you asked for.’
There was a pause. ‘Me who?’
It was quite possible that his subconscious would recognise me. His actual surface memory, however, wouldn’t manage to dredge up any specific instances of our meetings. It was just the way the memory magic surrounding faeries worked. It didn’t matter whether we were dope faeries or faery godmothers or tooth faeries. Any humans we’d encountered during a job would automatically forget all about us as soon as we left them. Of course, memory magic didn’t kick in when we weren’t working so that we could still have social lives that involved humans. It would get rather tiresome to have to keep introducing yourself to the same people when you weren’t on the job. I’d never paid much attention to the specifics of how it worked. I’d never needed to. In any case, memory magic protected us as well as humans, even if it was annoying sometimes. Duncan wouldn’t consciously remember me, despite the fact that we had met many times. The only way my little subterfuge would work would be if I co
uld persuade Duncan that he really did know me.
‘It’s Saffron, of course,’ I replied into the grubby speaker, injecting the faintest hint of hurt to add credence to our supposed relationship.
There was yet another beat of silence. I crossed my fingers tightly, hoping that he wouldn’t just tell me to piss off. I was in luck; a moment later the door buzzed. I pushed it open and exhaled loudly. I’d passed the threshold now; there was no turning back from this point.
I walked up the stairs to the third floor, rounding the corner towards Duncan’s room. The lingering smell of last night’s curry clung to the walls and carpet. Hell, it could have been last month’s curry for all I knew – this place always smelled the same. I pretended to my grumbling stomach that I wasn’t hungry and presented myself at Duncan’s own front door. It was already open and he was standing there waiting, frowning at me as I stepped up.
‘Duncan!’ I beamed. ‘I won’t hug you. I know you don’t like that sort of thing. It’s great to see you though.’
His brown eyes shifted. I could see that he was straining to remember who I was. I had to throw him another titbit to convince him that he did.
I glanced past him into his small but incredibly neat bedsit. ‘You’re alone?’ I questioned. ‘No green monsters hanging around?’
He drew back. ‘How do you know about that?’
I blinked in obvious surprise. ‘You told me, silly.’
‘Did I?’ He rubbed his eyes.
‘Yeah!’ I smiled again, the very picture of non-threatening friendliness. ‘Anyway, I know it’s super early but I did promise you I’d come by. I’ve got the early shift at work so it was now or never. How about that cup of tea you promised me?’
‘You’re …’
‘Saffron,’ I reminded him helpfully.
‘Oh yeah.’ He nodded. ‘I remember.’ He clearly didn’t. It didn’t matter now; he stepped back and, just in case he suddenly changed his mind, I walked past him and headed directly for the straight-backed chair sitting in the corner. Duncan closed the door and turned round.