Hashtag Murder

by brett hicks

  Jimmy led me with one hand on the small of my back. He was dressed in a proper tuxedo from his own personal collection of formal wear. I made a note to snoop into his lengthy closet space next time, since he brought three different dinner outfits on the fly. A girl could not help but wonder what type of rich prat he might be. I could not help but wonder why so many rich and powerful sups worked in the guards. They did not appear to be using their positions to abuse or to skirt by with illegal activities.

  When I was coming up, I usually only came close to rich or powerful people when they were taking advantage or treading on the rights of the poor and downtrodden. They were far too busy in their ivory towers, lest they came to stomp properly upon our throats, then return to their indulgences and opulence.

  While there were many types of humans, and sups, I could not help but wonder what the story was. Why Reline, Jimmy, and Sorcha all worked as detectives. The boss man was an even more ambiguous persona to track. It was inexplicable how I knew I could trust their motives so thoroughly, and yet they were all from the very opposite ends of the birth-right spectrum than I was.

  I am the impoverished daughter spawned of the very darkest form of filth on the sup community. I am the very lowest of the gutter trash. That I have a badge and not a jail cell, is a profound mystery. In that, I suppose I was not very different from my colleagues. I too should not be here, but for entirely different reasons.

  I was shaken from my musings as the large red-headed man in prim black crowded my space and patted me down. His hands slid right past my chest, where the daggers hid in my cloak. He seemed to apologize with his eyes, but the non-verbal message was still received. It was cute that he was so sorrowful for doing his duty. After so many lifetimes of men being far too forceful, it was a welcome relief when I saw one evolved enough to be bashful.

  “Just a check of yer bag, then you’ll be on your way, ma’am.”

  He said in a thick Irish accent, possibly midlands accent. I handed the bulky man my bag, and he fumbled through it quickly.

  “Alright there stud, my turn!”

  Sorcha said in a stern tone, but she winked at the bashful undercover. I managed not to chuckle, but I wanted to with every fiber of my being!

  I walked in as he flagged me through the gates. I watched as Sorcha wiggled her slender body to the tempo of his dutiful frisking rhythm. She was enjoying working her seductive fae mojo far too much! I had a feeling the boss man would be livid, if he was here to see his Detective Sargent acting like an overdressed fancy version of a belly dancer!

  “Uh, you’re good ma’am.”

  He said, clearing his throat and clearly looking to evade his seductive fae captor! There was little doubt who was the prey in this little practical joke.

  “If yer done tormenting the bloke, how about ye get on with it, yeah?”

  Jimmy said in a subdued but lethal tone. Sorcha smiled sweetly, blinked, and gave an innocent, inquisitive expression that I was already associating with fairies. Their natural “who me?” inquisitive look after causing mischief.

  “Yes, Lard pussycat!”

  Sorcha’s tone became a lot more Scottish and her mischievous taunting eyes spoke of some deeper meaning. Jimmy’s throat vibrated in some un-vocalized sound of anger. I felt the hairs on my neck rise and my tattoos seemed to churn for a moment. The birds on my shoulder flapped once, but they did not seem to consider Jimmy a threat to my safety.

  I was not sure how that whole thing had happened before. Sorcha posited that they could activate instinctively when danger was evident. She admitted to never seeing that type of guardian magiks before.

  Not for the first time, I was furious and annoyed with the stupid leprechaun for his pox deal!

  “Come, time to mingle.”

  Jimmy said, as his large hand pressed on my lower back. I stretched my small legs to keep pace with his larger strides at first until he noticed and seemed to adjust his measured pace. There was no doubt Jimmy was accustomed to much taller women!

  “You look dapper. Did yer mammy send that over?”

  I teased him lightly, and his eyes told me I was closer to the truth than he cared. Like it would surprise women that mothers would select suits for single sons going to a dinner party! Unless Jimmy had a touch of the queer eye, he was bound to need a woman’s touch.

  “I am from an old family of the Dublin area, and as such, it has required me to attend events like this many times a year.”

  Jimmy said, both answering me and evading the deeper question. That only made me want to know more! Sorcha followed into the gates. She had on an emerald green evening gown. It had silver trimming and was accompanied in the heart-shaped dip of her breasts with an emerald necklace. She also wore an ornate silver tiara on her head. She was glamoured, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see the full splendor of her nature fae presence outside the glamour. She was a creature so enchanting her very gaze was like a drug to the mortal body.

  Reline wore all black and donned the minks my granny had provided. She was cool beauty, silently lethal. She was the mistress of evening. She walked beside Sorcha, each choosing to attend stag. Sorcha had made more than one joke about getting herself a man, during or after our little sting operation. Reline also seemed to agree that she could ensnare a partner for the evening, while maintaining her mission. I suppose this was all in a night’s work for a cultured and experienced sup?

  I felt Jimmy’s hand slide slightly up my back. I was completely aware of every single nuance of his touch. His proximity was both heaven and hell to my slender needy body. I have become all too aware of just how long I have been without a man.

  Sorcha’s bemused look told me she had spotted my stray wanton look. I narrowed my gaze at her slightly, implying death to all in a single cutting glance. Her fairy eyes only seemed to light up further with amusement and challenge.

  We walked from the deep freeze of the Irish night, into the toasty roaring heat of the fancy halls of Saint Patrick. These, the most grand and opulent halls in all of Ireland. I marveled at the royal-blue and golden trim and all the tapestries with the many crests on the walls. Most of these were strange to me, but I recognized more infamous house crests. I was not a complete dolt.

  I was a girl so out of her depths, transported to a world forever beyond my reach.

  Thirty-One:

  We entered the main halls, and a simple candlelight shone in my eyes. The room was lit entirely of candles, and the ball musicians were playing acoustic instruments befitting the era of this castle height of glory. Stringed instruments harmonized in a subdued distant tone. It had all the hallmarks of your typical Irish ballad, slow, ad and depressing. Nothing was ever truly “Irish”, unless it drove you to drink!

  This would have been the point in a movie where the misunderstood girl becomes the belle of the ball. Honestly, aside from a lecherous old werewolf in the corner of the far left, no one seemed to notice my entrance, they were too busy in awe of Sorcha. That served me fine! I was more in need of the added anonymity. Many of these people could recall me as a detective garda, but most were far too absorbed into their own routines and drama. They were also networking and catching up with old friends. For them, this was one height of the season events. For me, it was just a means-to-an-end to catch a murderer before he became a proper serialized killer.

  He was one kill from a proper series and by all that was holy or right in the universe, I would not allow him the blood purchase of that claim to fame! I would stop him short if it cost me everything in the process!

  “We should mingle with the guests.”

  Jimmy said lowly next to my left ear. I felt my tattoos slithering along my skin in response to his voice. For some reason, they had mostly all hidden themselves, as if they knew my dress was revealing more skin than I usually ever showed. I had never seen them move this much, and I still had less than a clue what it all meant. Sorcha and Reline had noticed, but they had said nothing yet. They were just carefully watchful of
the new freak in the class. I did not need them to verbalize the fact that they all found my magiks disturbing and different. While I was no medusa, I was some unknown quantity.

  “Mingle, sure, I know how to mingle!”

  I said, pushing way too much faux enthusiasm into my pitch, causing a slight squeak in my tone. Jimmy seemed to be curious, but he held his tongue. He seemed to know the art of discretion as it pertained to dealing with insecure girls.

  “Well, onwards into the fray, as they say.”

  Jimmy said, and I frowned at him slightly not familiar with that turn of phrase. He seemed pleased with his well-read self. I wanted to smack him, but considering I was surrounded by mucky-mucks, I thought better of that. I slid him a slightly narrowed gaze, letting him know that this was not forgiven or forgotten!

  “Please, lead on sir.”

  I said, and Jimmy took my hand and gracefully led me towards the dance floor. I wanted to protest, since I usually only danced when the music was too loud, and the crowd was too blind from the dim lights and smoke of the club or pub lighting.

  Sorcha was not having that issue; I saw her dividing her attention between two men. Part of me wanted to tell her this was not the type of party where it was socially acceptable for her to have two dance partners! However, I thought about it for a second and realized the princess of the nature fae lived by her own set of laws. She was the last of her kind and she seemed to care nothing for the rules outside those of the garda and the sup community treaties. She was gathering nasty looks from jealous opulently over-stated women, all of whom either wished they were Sorcha or to be with one of her dance partners.

  “Stupid bloody fairy…”

  Jimmy muttered in curse to himself, and he huffed, and then he shocked me by twirling me suddenly. If not for my ninja-like reflexes, I would have tumbled onto my arse! Jimmy seemed to be all too pleased with himself.

  “Impressive footwork, where did you train?”

  I somehow gathered that he did not mean dance. There were distinctive differences in the subtlety of advanced martial arts footwork and dancing steps, though to the naked eye, it would seem almost indistinguishable.

  “Here and there.”

  I answered him cryptically, and I did not want to even commit to admitting my father taught me so much of my master-level arts. I did not enjoy admitting the foundation of all my training was done by a psycho in my formative years. That I was supposed to be the next in a line of meat-suits for my father once he burned out his current body.

  Jimmy saw the abyss in my gaze.

  “I don’t know what yer life was like, but I gather it was once hell. I know that look, the look of a war-torn soldier whose mind never properly left the field of combat.”

  I gave him a subdued look and a small smile.

  “I know I have not started this whole thing off on the proper footing, Jimmy, but soon enough I will say I am sorry. I will just ask you to forgive and learn to trust me like a partner once we resolve all of this. I don’t want to pants our relationship just because the circumstances have gone off the rails.”

  I confessed, it was cryptic, but I knew he would soon piece together the meaning of my words. I just hoped that by then he might forgive and maybe forget. Jimmy frowned at me, he seemed to grapple with the meaning in my words.

  “Yer never going to be an easy lass to know. Avery Parker, yer a lot of bloody work to get to know.”

  “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” I said to him in a low mocking tone.

  “Is that how ye see yer self?”

  He asked me and his deep tone seemed to tingle my skin all the way to the very core of my body. I bit my lip and shifted my eyes away from his delicious lips, lips far too close for my comfort at this moment, as our bodies swayed to the stringed music.

  “Tis the truth, though not by my own bloody design.”

  I said honestly, and Jimmy frowned at me, confounded by my meaning.

  “Yer far too young and far too gorgeous to believe such bullocks about yerself. You are enchanting, and ye are highly intelligent. Do you think I let just any newly minted detective garda jump me through her hoops?”

  Jimmy asked, and I snorted, and buried my head into his chest to hide and muffle my laughter. He was so hot, hot like a sunny day embracing me in all the right places. My body cried out for him, for more of this, but my rational mind snapped back, and after a moment of basking in his sunny heat, I lifted my head and forced a few precious inches of sanity between us as the song ended.

  “It’s about time we get to it, yeah?”

  I said, and I cleared my throat. I felt almost like I had a frog that had lept halfway down my throat. He seemed to refuse to release me back into the wilds of the dinner party. The song was ending, and he knew the spell would soon break and we would return to our partnership as it should be!

  After a lingering moment, he sighed wistfully, and he gently released me. His eyes held a profound sorrow in the loss of tactile contact between us, as though he had just been forced to amputate a limb.

  “Very well partner, crack on.”

  Jimmy managed to sound completely casual now, and a less perceptive girl would have been deceived. She could have chalked everything in the last few minutes up to her own hormones.

  ***

  “Good evening miss.”

  I turned, and bachelor number twelve approached me. This was in genius. So far, none of the rich prats had even bothered to remember we had met when I took their statements the night of the first murder. I faked a bright smile, and I let my body relax, despite my warring emotions. I did not feel any prickles of magiks from this one, and I was almost sure I could write him off, but I was a woman who liked to cover all her bases.

  “Ello, does yer wife and yer mistress know yer talkin’ ta me?”

  I asked him, trying to draw out raw and naked expression in his eyes. After a moment, it was there, anger, outrage, and fear of being caught.

  “Excuse me, jax.”

  He fumed, and I tipped my head slightly.

  “He sure did you an injustice, no man should leave such a splendorous gem all by her lonesome.”

  I turned my head, and I was captured by the eyes of the gorgeous young man from the night of the party. As of yet, I felt nothing amiss, but there was a diffused sizzle to my skin, something near me had magiks.

  “Detective Garda Avery Parker, am I right?”

  I forced a cheerful smile to my lips. I could not help the deep sensual feeling his naked interest in me caused. He was a singularly beautiful young man maybe a few years my senior. His halo of slightly curly blonde hair was messily tussled on his head, but in an organized chaos that one could associate with a proper stylist. His designer hair cut probably cost more than a month’s wages at the garda.

  “Mr. Winter, if I am not mistaken?”

  I phrased it as a question, but I had a nearly perfect memory. I never forgot a name or a face and even more so if it involved them in a case. No need to tip my suspects off that my knowledge of their lives was because I had read their files.

  “I’m honored you remember me; may I call you Avery?”

  He asked, his tone so polite that it almost hurt my heart. He was like succulent honey on the lips, and easy to look on. I likened him to the most alluring of males I have read of throughout history. I remembered the tales of incubi, the sex demons. My mind spun with the countless different threads of possibility that this unlocked.

  My tattoos writhed on my body, like vipers coiling to prepare for a fatal strike. I felt something, a flutter, and not a good one. Something absent in the air, I had missed it the first time we met, but I knew to look for it this time. My senses were screaming at me, telling me to flee, run, and to hide behind layers of defenses. I felt the nightmares of my youth coming back to me. I felt the very void of the absolute cold along my skin like tangible chill-of-the-grave.

  He was yet unaware of my sudden change in demeanor. I remembered my father, how he had been r
easonable, at least until he was triggered. I remembered that the trick was not to invoke his wrath, not in so public a forum. There were countless smartphones here and even more eyes and ears. More than that, I could not expose these mortals to the eminent danger now staring into my eyes like a hungry wolf.

  “It’s quite loud in here, could you pry yourself from the party to go on a walk with me?’

  I asked, like the fly inviting the spider on a date. His lips formed the most splendorous and satisfied smile ever formed on any male’s features.

  “T’would be my honor!”

  He said, and he led me by the small of my back, out of the grand blue-gold colored halls.

  Thirty-Two:

  The cold of night seemed to be seeping into every pore of my body. My cloak was lightweight, meant more for show and for concealing the twin daggers than keeping me safe from the elements.

  I allowed the handsome young-looking blonde man to lead me to the roof of the castle. There was no part of this crazy plan that made any sense! It also crossed my mind that this vantage point would make for a lovely selfie capture after he had murdered me.

  “Isn’t the night lovely here?”

  He asked me, and he looked around, sucking down a deep breath of freezing air. He seemed to survey the landscape, and his gaze seemed to be lost in some bewildering moment.

  “Yeah, it’s really something. Never thought I would stand up here.”

  I said honestly. I had only a trace of nerves in my tone, and the man’s eyes flashed black. I stared into them, twin incomprehensible voids. The absence of love, the absence of all warmth. I had seen those eyes before. I had seen those very same twin maws of darkness.

  “From the look on yer face, ye have seen us much earlier than intended. Is it already time for the little mouse to run from the hawk?”