by brett hicks
“You are kind, even though you go to extraordinary lengths to mask that about yourself.” She said, her tone more playful as she seemed to steer the topic out of the pitch-black of her personal abyss. Whatever hell lay behind her, she was far from ready to utter it. This was something I knew a lot about, so I did not press.
“So, have you ever met anyone with energy like mine?” I asked her and Sorcha promptly shook her head.
“I have never felt a power signature like yours, but there is something almost nostalgic about it. Something not fae, but still very much attuned to my fairy blood. That is part of why I asked, because the energy I felt, it is the closest to my people I have felt in over five centuries.”
I blanched at the way she spoke of five-hundred-years.
“Just how old are you? Geeze, did you like meet King Author?!” I blurted before I could think better of it. Sorcha looked like she was speechless for a second, then she threw her head back and laughed a roaring rush of amusement from deep in her belly.
“Oh, you are a doll! Grand, totally grand!” She laughed again. I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, and I kept walking. She was every bit the silly fairy that you heard stories about. She had a goofy streak, and she loved her shinnies, and her designer clothing.
“Fine, since this seems to trouble you, I am nearly seven-hundred. Well, six-ninety-eight, to be precise. I was born in the middle-ages, hence the random slips to ye olden times speech. My thoughts are still in Gaelic, so English is actually my third language. The second being Old-English, and first Gaelic, obviously.”
We strode through the dark, empty lobby as we discussed her lengthy history on this planet. My mind was reeling from this discovery, yet it lined up with her very random interjections of phrases so old I could not properly put a place to them.
It was odd seeing the Merrion Hotel dark and quiet. My colleagues moved all the guests to several other luxury hotels across Dublin after getting their statements. The Merrion’s manager had been livid with the decision to shut down the hotel during the bulk of the investigation. This was their livelihood, and it was also a very high-end establishment. It surprised me none of the boys on high squashed this decision. Everyone from bottom to top wanted this case closed and this bold and brutal killer brought to justice. I believe the true reason behind the brass’ decisions now, was they took a black eye with this killer tweeting out the murder as it happened. He or she was boldly displaying their ability to brutally murder in plain sight, and walk off, as if vanishing into smoke.
“Were you born in Ireland or were you from Fairey?” I asked and Sorcha stuttered in her step mid-stride. She turned and looked at me with a perplexed look, like I had truly amazed her.
“The Nature Fae are born of earth, and my court was once centered in the Highlands of Scotland. I matriculated frequently after the massacre of my entire court. I finally found my home two centuries ago, here. Dublin has been the closest thing to a home I have known since the night I came to court to see all that I loved had been sheered like a bloody lawn trimming.”
Sorcha said, her tone taking on a lit slightly less Irish now, and I finally realized she was showing off her power of linguistics. Sorcha modulated out of Irish and into Scottish lit English as she finished her oral history lesson. She looked up at me and a deep sadness played in her irises. I had not noticed the lonesomeness that housed itself inside her at first.
“I’m sorry, if I had any idea what I was stumbling over, I would not have asked.” I said, surprised at myself. I asked parents and loved ones of murder victims’ questions all the time. There was something in the underlying fragility to her nuanced behavior that I resonated with personally. Like me, Sorcha was tough as Teflon, but there is always a chink in your armor left by tragedy. I knew all too well how this felt and how much the burn stung, when someone dabbed at the wound even on accident.
“Relax, it's not like you killed them. Seriously, it wasn’t you, right?” She leaned in close and I caught the light spritz of her citrus perfume. She had what must have been extremely expensive and subtle perfume applied. Sorcha seemed to be a woman who was perfectly tailored and cut. She knew how to look perfect better than the most fabulous models and designers in Paris or New York.
“I’m not even sure which of my ancestors were around back then, to be perfectly honest. Besides, I am not exactly sure if my people were always from Ireland or if that is just a story parents told their children, including me.”
My mind went to my father, the blackness swirling in his eyes. The smile on his bloodied lips taunting me as the cop’s drug him away. I remember the sinister claims and the strongly worded promises.
“Where d'you go just now and did it happen to have a sauna? Perhaps one set to, I don’t know, a few thousand degrees?”
I snapped back to the here-and-now, at Sorcha’s joke.
“Huh?”
Sorcha frowned, and she looked puzzled, yet she shook her shoulder and hitched her thumb towards the back-patio door.
“Whatever it is, we’re here, so it must hold until later, yeah?”
The scent of blood thickened, and the coppery smell was laced with something that a human would never have detected. They might have felt the chills on their back as I did now, but they would never know the reason for them.
A darkness in the area surrounding the murder seemed to have leeched the entire area of the residual magic. I was like a blank cold spot in the magiks. The darkly congealed blood staining had dried now, and the power infused in this death spot resonated with the rattling cry of the victim. I could hear her final throes of agony in the resonation of the almost kinetic force of the scene.
Death imprints leave a tangible pattern or impression on the place a human or sup is murdered. Sups could sense such spots much more acutely than humans, but everyone feels something from a death spot.
“Bloody hell, Sorcha…”
I said, trailing my statement into silence. Sorcha frowned and cringed slightly at the bitterness of this death spot.
“This was not quite established the last time we were here. Makes sense it would be a nasty one, but Jesus!”
Sorcha exclaimed, agreeing with my sentiments.
“Glad it’s not just me dealing with that funk for a change.”
I told her seriously, but with a slight edge of sarcasm. She snorted weakly and rolled her eyes at the lame line. Cops had to keep their humor facing brutality, lest we lose our minds and humanity. Humanity was something this killer had been lacking.
Fourteen:
Congealed blood was everywhere. The victim was stabbed so many times she was eviscerated from her wounds. The punctures seemed to be so deep that some also held impact signs where the killer’s fist had slammed into the knife wounds.
The level of pure brutality and unmitigated rage eliminated all, but the most developed and ripped human men. They had twisted her left arm out of the socket, held by the killer’s right hand in a vicious death-grip. The wounds were random, but the victim’s face sustained nearly no damage, almost like the killer wanted to preserve her physical beauty in death, as he stared into her vacating eyes.
All of this happened within minutes and was over. Time had been the greatest adversary of the perp. The image of the body was burned into my mind. I paced the crime scene even under cover of night hours later, and I could remember every inch of the scene as it had been.
“I don’t recall this hollow sensation at any other death spot. It’s like magic, but void of any real body or tangible link to any particular sup species I have ever felt.”
I told Sorcha, who had closed her eyes. She had run her fingers along the ground. She was not shy about touching dried blood spots or other such leftover contaminants.
“Yes, I can feel this…void. I have felt it, but I have met nothing that produces such a magiks. It is almost as they hide it from my senses.”
“What could hide itself and its existence from a six-hundred-year-old fairy?!” I asked incr
edulously, and Sorcha shot me a slightly hot look.
“Well, if I had such an answer, then it would not have remained hidden from me, obviously.”
She sassed at me in her lyrical tone. She seemed to be perturbed that something eluded her, the same look she had given when trying to place my species.
“It’s strange, crossing paths with two unknown entities within a single month’s time. If I did not pride myself on reading people, I would almost feel the need to suspect you, Avery.”
Sorcha said, no trace of her usual humor was present now. I glared at her; the accusation so infuriating that she smiled after seeing my natural response.
“Alas, you are far too hones, even for one who lies to her partner.”
It was less an accusation and more a statement of facts, and I managed to not growl at Sorcha, the insufferable fae.
“I can assure you that I have less than a zero interest in harming random human women.”
I said hotly, and Sorcha raised her eyebrow at me in question.
“How do you know that she was human? She could have been many species that pass easily”
Sorcha said in a matter-of-fact tone. I shook my head and waved my hand vaguely around my chest, over my heart.
“There is like a flame or light of magiks inside sups. Humans do not have this. Sups can suppress the flame when they try, but that flame is left burning even hours after their deaths. I was one of the first to see her after she died. There was no flame and she would have lost control of her suppression abilities upon her death.”
“Interesting, I have heard wicca witches describe similar sight, but even their account of the soul is far vaguer. Jimmy’s people can also see auras in a similar manner, but he would have known about you if you were one of his. Your vision seems sharper, how very puzzling. I have missed a good riddle these past few centuries. You shall make for a very fun puzzle game, Avery Parker.”
There was something disturbing about how excited Sorcha was at this declaration. The last thing I needed was a fairy flying circles around me making life harder. I was not convinced Sorcha was such a malice being. There was just the wild goofy girl, not a psychotic court fae. Something inside me resonated with Sorcha, even when she was being annoying as hell to me!
“I’m not yer dancing fecking monkey!” I exclaimed to her.
“Aye, aye.”
Her gaze cut from me, to the darkness towards the main lobby. I vaguely heard a light curse cross her lips, as I finally heard the lightest masculine footsteps know to inhuman kind. Jimmy materialized out the back door without a sound loud enough to tip most beings.
“Jayzus!” Sorcha exclaimed to Jimmy, as he walked over to us with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Sorcha, Avery, care to explain why I had to assure the Boss that two detectives being spotted playing Nancy Drew on my crime scene, was under my direct orders?”
Jimmy said, his gaze turned to me, as his mildly wounded masculine pride burned in his eyes. A gold band around his irises glowed with power wild and chilly, like the late fall night we were now standing exposed to.
I could see his magiks glowing with his annoyance, more magiks than I had ever seen around a single being. He had power to spare, and then some! He was a mighty man, and he was in charge, I was not sure of what, yet, but he was in charge of whatever he was! He was not a shifter, yet the wild magiks were so close and they seemed to cascade from him with his emotions, just like an angry werewolf. Being a sassy lassie as I am, I have pissed off a few werewolves in my day! They don’t like it when females dick them around, unless you are speaking very literally, of course.
“Since when are you the boss of me, Jimmy?”
Sorcha challenged, and she crossed her arms over her chest and puffed up. Her pale-green aura shone every bit as bright as his dark midnight-blue aura now. I realized now, whatever she had been to her people, she had not been a pulper. Sorcha was regal, and she had the dress code to match. I knew just enough to know her people had once held a court, so I could only assume she was of ranking status in her court.
“I am LEAD on this blimey case! Must we sort this out every time you are not lead detective, Sorcha?!”
“Hey, not my fault you came prowling out here like a damn angry alley cat! Did you really expect us girls to sit on the sidelines and just take statements for you big strong men?! Besides, if you are the lead, then so is Avery, by default, which gives us every right to be here!”
Sorcha said, and she huffed in a tone higher in pitch, as if she had just made her case. Jimmy looked from her to me, and I caught him mutter a string of curses about fairy loopholes.
“Why didn’t you call me to come with you?” He looked into my eyes as he addressed me. I did not break his gaze, looking away would show weakness and submission in this obvious struggle of wills between the three of us.
“Like you gave me much of a chance?! I was basically given all the rookie assignments, despite my detective’s shield. This case does not make much sense anyway I add it up, so I asked Sorcha to come with me and walk the scene on our own dime. I am perfectly happy to explain this to our boss personally. I have broken no protocol and I have even brought backup with me.”
I hitched my thumb towards Sorcha, who waggled her fingers in a mock-wave at Jimmy. I was not trying to further inflame the situation but conveying this point to Sorcha seemed moot. She was not happy with her constant struggle for dominance with Jimmy, whatever that was, but not so much that she will spill blood over the matter. That spoke of a deeper restraint on both their parts. Both were clear alpha types, yet they did not use their powers or magiks to harm each other, not that they seemed any closer to harmonious co-existence.
Jimmy sighed, and I could see him calming his nerves and he seemed to block out Sorcha’s very ridiculous face making.
“Next time, text, yeah? Lets all go for a few jars, cool the head, then we can shoot the breeze about mysterious shadowy figures committing murder.”
Jimmy said, sounding more like the reasonable but tough copper he was, once more. Sorcha huffed one more time, then she nodded in concession.
“I do like the wine selection at the little man’s place.” She said, coming short of calling Ernie Dean a leprechaun. Jimmy still did not know I was a sup, and I could tell he was probing my awareness with whatever extra-sensory abilities his species possessed. I did not know much, but I knew that trying to read me against my will was like slamming your face into titanium at brutal grand prix speeds. I almost felt sorry for him the headache, but it was what he got for trying to pry into my head!
“I could use a jar, nice creamy lager.” I said, and I could practically taste one of the house special drafts. We were Irish, and this was Dublin, drinking is practically our pastime. It might be a bit cliché, but we all loved to gab over a few beverages. Every culture has its nexus for social traffic, the Irish version was our pubs.
“I like this one, Jimmy, don’t you go running her off because you are a controlling ass.” Sorcha told Jimmy form behind me. I heard a slight growl creep into his voice. I could swear he was a shifter, yet I felt magiks that were something different, something more arcane than an animal could produce. I felt deeply, but I had nothing to compare my sensations against, except my life experiences. I was a mystery to these sups, and Jimmy was a mystery to me. Sorcha was not obvious either, but she felt more familiar to me, something closer to home, to kin. Was I part nature fae? No, that was not possible, since she herself admitted that she had never experienced my energy type before. Being a powerful Nature fae, she would remember all the signatures of her tribe, even if they were now dead.
“Next time, please consult me on some level, yeah?” Jimmy said to me, and I felt mildly guilty. I was not being very fair to him. I mean part of it was the lingering traces of embarrassment over our hot moment before my first tour in Dublin. The rest, I was almost certain that was my reluctance to open myself to a supernatural male. None of it was being very fair to Jimmy.
> “I’ll keep you in the loop next time.” I said, coming very far from any real apology. Sorcha’s kept eyes cut knowingly to me. She noticed how I was careful never to apologize to or thank anyone. She knew that I was ignorant of most customs, but I knew about debts between sups. Not all kept debt, but owing a sup was not high on a girl’s list, if she wanted to keep her sanity. Sup debts could last for decades or even centuries. There was no breaking such debts, only to pay them off or to kill the one holding you in debt. It was not magiks, rather a primal and ancient law. No tribe or sect was above honoring a debt owed. Without this agreement, there would be anarchy in the immortal community.
Jimmy showed us out, and he seemed to drink in every detail of the scene, almost like he was looking to see if we moved anything. By the time we reached the car, I was about ready to slug him for his loud scanning gaze all but accusing us of tampering with the evidence.
Fifteen:
I had been back at Smokey’s several times since my first night in town, but this time it felt different. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was not alone. I just cannot count my sparse one-nighters as company.
“You ladies find us a good booth, first rounds on me. I will hit the jax first.”
Jimmy said, and he paced over to the bar and handed Ernie a shiny silver card and hitched his thumb towards the pair of us. It was safe to assume he had just repeated some form of the same sentence to our local barman. Ernie nodded his head and as he swiftly shifted his body and turned, I saw his glamour drop. He was shorter even than he made himself appear in human form. He was also nearly neon green under these subdued bar lights.
“Do you have a thing for the green men or are you really just that unaccustomed to being around the local sups?”
Sorcha asked with a quirk to her right brow. I looked over the drink menu for a very brief moment, but ultimately, I decided on my usual lager draft.