Splendificent

by Dacy Alex

  What Giselle wanted to do at the most was propose marriage to him, wrangle him, hold him down and never lose him. What she ended up doing was blurt, "Are you really in the Air Force?"

  Krisdane, that beautiful pure elf, offered a sheepish grin, eyes closed, cheeks blushing, "An Air Force of sorts."

  Chapter Seven: Layin' Some Heavy Shit

  Giselle hated, hated, absolutely hated stealth missions in video games. Why should she crawl on floors, hide behind crates, and stay in shadows to avoid some low health having goons? Why couldn't she just bust out the shotgun and start smoking fools?

  Unfortunately, Giselle's roommates were no low level goons. They weren't even the final bosses. They were the extra boss you can fight after the game is over, and you spend fifteen horrible hours trying to beat them and earn that elusive platinum trophy.

  Giselle needed stealth and cunning to sneak Seamus to the urgent care. Tyrone had been returned to his fuming wife last night by an insensate Tristabelle. This left SeaSeaSea with his millions of YouTube views, and soon to be released album, to be spirited away to the wonders of modern medicine this mid-morning.

  The very idea of saving someone's life made her feel extraordinary. It blasted her with a rush of adrenaline and bestowed her with an amazing sense of purpose. For once she didn't feel like klutzy old Giselle. She felt like an extraordinary young woman.

  Sneaking around Dusty had been particularly dangerous due to the pixie cleaning her rifle, "just in case I need it." But Giselle created a suitable distraction by throwing a glass down the hall to shatter it. Dusty and her rifle were led away from the study by the noise. This let Giselle hurry Seamus along.

  Getting by Fleur was a tricky task because if Vampire Diaries and True Blood had taught Giselle anything she knew that vampires have heightened senses. Even with Fleur grunting and pumping iron to DMX's "Where The Hood At," Giselle assumed the hell-born and Boston bred young woman could hear Giselle's sneaking. But Giselle knew that every boss has a weak point. This vampire-demon's biggest weakness was greed, and so Giselle decided to play to the most pitiful manifestation of it. Giselle rolled a quarter to the corner of Fleur's gloomy room. The vampire-succubus was on it like a food drop in a disaster zone.

  Sofi's door was closed, as she was deep in activist causes. But that just brought Giselle closer to the meanest boss of all.

  Princess Tristabelle Evlrina, pure elf.

  Since Tristabelle was easily agitated Giselle decided to interrupt the kitchen based princess's mid-morning snack of a... brownie? Giselle found that mind-boggling in its ordinariness. Maybe Giselle could get a brownie too? But her real intent was to bombard the princess with questions about Golden Land to a) feed Giselle's hunger for knowledge about the supernatural haven, and b) annoy Tristabelle to the point she would storm off in disgust.

  The Bright Eyed was dressed in what was a very unprincess like outfit of a tank top cut off above her lean stomach, and a pair of camo booty shorts. The already short shorts were riding up Tristabelle’s hard ass, and the humming and dancing princess was all writhing and wiggling and being the sexiest thing Giselle had ever seen.

  As Seamus stood outside the kitchen out of the view of Tristabelle, Giselle slid across the floor to the leggy blonde. Literally slid because she thought that would make Tristabelle think she's cool. Not true. Tristabelle shook her head in embarrassment for Giselle.

  "Princess Tristabelle, I have some questions about good ol' GL," Giselle's heart-shaped lips formed a small smile. A disarming one. The kind that leads her unwitting victims into her cave of annoyance. "Is it really a hereditary monarchy?"

  "Why yes! You certainly would not trust one of the vampire houses or dwarf houses to lead the country in fine governance. Neither can leave their dwellings before nighttime else they return as charred ashes."

  Small people with skin allergies. That'd make a good TLC reality show.

  "So if you're a pure elf, are their impure elves?"

  "I would not concern your little head with such base creatures."

  Giselle continued, "So there's probably a lot of Game of Thrones type stuff going on?"

  "Game of thrones! Ah yes! The festival game of elimination and music, with one fewer throne than players. I know game of thrones well."

  No, you don't.

  "I must imagine, Giselle, you are a popular choice to attend festivals and the like with."

  "You do? I mean, yeah, totally I am!" Giselle cringed inwardly.

  Get back on task, Giselle.

  "Princess T, there are no rebellious nobles looking to rule?"

  "The Elvrinas were trusted to protect the earth realm by the Allfather. To cross us would be to cross god himself. Though there is one family. Or shall we say species..."

  Chosen by a god? I didn't even get chosen when we were picking sides in gym softball. They just made me study in the library.

  "Ummmmm, how many gods do you have?" Giselle wondered, as Tristabelle took another brownie.

  Gods, why can she eat those without them going to her ass like me?

  "Many indeed! I am a sister in the Temple of Freyja, the goddess of sex, love, fertility, and much more. I transmit the warmth of the goddess to troubled souls with the spiritual and physical blessings of intercourse."

  Definitely a thing I'm going to probe deeper into. Hehhe, pun. But I need to annoy her more.

  “How did you get your nickname?”

  “Hmmm…it was a dangerous winter the year of my birth…a creature more deadly than any before appeared in the Land. It killed many..until it finally reached Elvheim. The moment of my birth… when I opened my eyes a weakness was spotted by my father…he struck true with his war hammer, Rhine Maiden, and slew the creature. A druid said my “bright eyes” saved the earth realm.”

  "So, Princess Tristabelle, what streaming service do you use the most?"

  "Giselle, I do not bathe in streams. I am certainly no wild woman!"

  I dunno, any chick who busts out a striptease when her dancing skills are challenged is wild.

  “And what do you elves and such do for fun in Golden Land?”

  “Ah, knightly tournaments and contests are always uh, hella badass, broski! Rodgir is a legend in those events. Figure skating is popular. As is speed skating. Though both must be divided by species. It would not be fair to contest a dwarf’s speed with a werewolf’s. Wrestling is popular. Though not Dusty’s style of wrestling. My sister, Astrid, said any suitor must beat her in grappling. So far none have been successful.

  That would make an awesome episode of The Bachelorette.

  "And why's it called Golden Land? Why not Elf Land? Elven Land? Pointy Ear Land?"

  Tristabelle reached into the tin for a brownie and passed it to Giselle. It looked richer than any brownie she had ever seen.

  No! Don't feed me! Be annoyed with me!

  "We have a much longer growing season than the rest of Scandinavia. Our fields of golden wheat are plentiful, and our sun rays are like being showered in a golden spray by the Egyptian sun god."

  Eeep, that sounds... messy. But I'm getting nowhere here. I'm sorry, Tristabelle, but I have to do it.

  Giselle took a small bite of her brownie, and it was damn delicious. She then went on the following assault of Tristabelle's ears, "WhatisthetopsportinGoldenLand? DoyoulistentoKatyPerry? CanIcomevisit? Areyourotherbrotherscute? Aremermaidsreal? Areorcs? Doyouhaveadog? Isthequeenpretty? Singyournationalanthem! Couldyoubeat--"

  "My, my, Giselle," Tristabelle began, her voice tight, her cupid's bow lips moving slowly. "I believe I must contact my sister Astrid or brother Rodgir or some other sibling right away. Forgive my rudeness."

  Tristabelle spun with the grace only a pure elf who's a dance major and figure-skater can and excused herself from Giselle's ramblings.

  Tristabelle has left the chat. Nice job, G. Oooh I like that -- calling myself G. Let's go with it.

  Giselle found the realest motherfucking G Ireland had ever produced stashed behind a h
allway plant. Right where she left him in the camouflage of a plant with dramatic, arching leaves. With his red hairstyle, he sort of looked like a rooster in the Amazon.

  In fact, the plant was such good cover, Giselle decided to use it for her latest clandestine operation: texting Stuart.

  Sorry to bother you if you're at work. But what do you know about Golden Land? she asked.

  Those Scandinavians b fucking! He replied back.

  Given what Tristabelle told her about religious practices, Stuart knew more than he thought.

  Be serious! Do your conspiracies ever say anything about that country?

  Word on da street is they supply the chemicals the Dems put N the water to lower the birthrate in the Midwest.

  Giselle's big blue eyes slammed shut, and she breathed deeply to try and center her chakras.

  I'm gonna FaceTime you. I need you to see something.

  FaceTime was a goofy affair when Giselle and Stuart were involved as Giselle liked to do Cosplay mashups whereas Stuart would try to prove his might by beating on ten-year-olds on FIFA soccer only to lose soundly and rage-quit. Now it was deathly serious business as she held up the phone to Seamus' blank face.

  "Hold up! Who the fuck is this dude?" Stuart yelled, then toppled out of his chair if the crashing sound was any indication.

  "Shhhh. Just tell me have you heard of or seen anyone like this?"

  "Madame Wanda probably has. Take him to her. Not to a fucking American hospital." He spat as though he could read Giselle's mind. "Not to where they'll pump him full of antibiotics and hormones that will have his dick turn into something looking like a McNugget. They're afraid of my masculinity! They can't handle my thunder!"

  "Yeah, okay," she said her with her shoulders sagged. "Sounds great. Wanda's. Will do."

  Will not do! Giselle hadn't the single inkling of an idea why she would have found Stuart helpful. Clearly, these men needed care from actual professionals, who were also human beings. Not psychics or elves or kitsunes.

  "Come on, SeaSeaSea, let's get on the elevator." Her orders got him moving towards it.

  The push of the elevator button had been embarrassingly thrilling since she was 5 years old. The heady anticipation of the press. The inebriating ebullience of the actual press. The satisfaction of a wondrous technology controlled by her, Giselle Nyfall, lord of the elevators!

  And it all led to a face-to-face with the kale, green apple and lemon smoothie sipping @RealMiamiRedFoxx!

  "Sofi!" Giselle exclaimed, as Sofi stepped off the elevator, savory figure hugged tight by white leggings and a lavender crisscrossed neck tank top.

  "Giselle!" Sofi greeted her with a wave of her free hand and a smile of her long pink lips.

  "Sofi, I thought you were busy doing work for that Yemeni girl who escaped ISIS."

  "I was. I tweeted hashtag 'protect her' and made a Facebook post about it. And I never go on Facebook. I feel like I have cancer."

  "It was a great sacrifice on your part."

  Sofi's smile widened, which given the length of her lips, was a pretty wide smile.

  "What are you doing with Seamus though?" Sofi queried. "Oh my gosh, Giselle, you can't just throw it on the D of the first rapper you come across. Your first baby daddy determines your next baby daddy. You need to choose very carefully. Your mom should have taught you this stuff."

  "Eeep! You're wrong. I mean, not about the baby daddy strategy. But I'm, uh, taking him to a..." Giselle felt the words clogging her throat. She watched Sofi lean in close like those grey wide eyes of the redhead could slice her barriers of deceit.

  "Where are you taking him?" Sofi probed.

  "To Madame Wanda's!" Giselle shot out, almost hurling the words like she was again vomiting. "She's a psychic. So yeah, gonna be rolling out with my big homie, SeaSeaSea. Gotta get dat D. I mean D as in train! Not D as in dick. Is there a D train? I dunno, so I'm just gonna roll on out of here."

  "Maybe I should come with," Sofi determined, as she sniffed Giselle with her delicate nose. "What if demons try and nab you? You need someone like me. I can throw fire from my tail, remember."

  Giselle was stunned to hear genuine concern in Sofi's voice. She had thought the social media maven operated under a detached flightiness. It was tempting to take Sofi up on her kindness. Yet, Giselle needed to get Seamus out of the sphere of the supernatural and back into the world of the plausible. The human world.

  "Nah, I can handle some psychic. I'm G. G as in Giselle. But just G because it's cooler. Not that I care about being cool because I'm way above that. So yeah, gonna go to that psychic with SeaSeaSea."

  Giselle leaned into Sofi for a hug, which felt extra fabulous given Sofi's extra buxom figure and the sweet wondrous ass Giselle grabbed a hold of.

  ***

  The urgent care was a waste of goddamn time! The urgent care on east 97th Street kept Giselle and the blank-faced rapper waiting for 85 minutes to be seen. The very words "urgent care" were openly defied by that wait. Seamus didn't have any money on him, so Giselle had to pay his co-pay. Then, despite Seamus being unable to speak and move under his own command, the doctor thought he was taking advantage of Giselle. The doctor was so concerned he offered to call the National Human Trafficking Hotline for Giselle.

  In the end, Giselle and Seamus got nothing except Seamus' face on a government list. Giselle had to return Seamus to the condo complex before his absence led Sofi to believe her gold-digging read was on point. The last thing Giselle needed was for that to get back to her mom. It would be monstrously difficult to explain to Dawn why Giselle was being seen with the rapper of "drop my shit on ya dome call it shitecution" fame.

  There was only one route available to Giselle in this game. The Main Character sometimes had to resort to plans they never imagined taking to save the townspeople. That's why Giselle took a lengthy subway, bus, and on-foot journey to get to Madame Wanda's Psychic Emporium in Red Hook, Brooklyn.

  Madame's Wanda's Psychic Emporium seemed mired in a heart of darkness even though it was a bright August day. The entrance bell tinkled behind Giselle as the door closed, too cheery a noise for such an almost malefic darkness. For whom the bell tolled was Giselle's feeling as she failed to adjust to the gloom.

  When her eyes did adjust she instantly wished they hadn't. Her big blue orbs saw a row of animal skulls, such as an owl crowned by dead leaves, a rooster's head that had been, improbably, bitten into, and the heads of two ravens. Giselle shrunk back from the avian creatures lest they take the shape of sludge enhanced demons. Even main characters get to retreat from battle.

  She inadvertently moved close to the jars of eyeballs strewn on tables covered in purple cloths with a white written script. Now she thought of herself as a townsperson needing saving. Why hadn't she brought along Sofi? The Kitsune wouldn't be flustered by crystal balls swirling with a murky mist on the worn wooden counter at the front of the shop. The way the smoke assaulted the ball, it's as if it was a bird locked up against his will.

  "Who would disturb me?" spoke a husky voice.

  Cloaked in a swathe of dark scarves that betrayed the heat of the shop, a plump black woman emerged from a purple velvet curtain behind the counter. Well above her scarves, round body, and menacing glare, the mid-thirties woman wore a tight cropping of coal-black hair. She was holding that same black USB looking thing that Anika had. Hers flared with a red light as well.

  "Madame Wanda?" Giselle asked, words tempered by a soft speech like she was about to apologize for even asking.

  "That is I."

  At least she doesn't seem hostile. Or demonic.

  "Giselle Nyfall am I," Giselle tried a Yoda voice. It sucked, she cringed and went on, "Stuart Logan sent me. And, well, I have a super huge problem."

  Giselle thrust her phone over the counter and into Madame Wanda's round face.

  "Your problem is your Pornhub video is not displaying."

  Humiliation struck at Giselle's heart causing her to cringe. Though if the weird Japane
se porn video she was watching displayed, she may have wanted to commit hara-kiri from shame.

  Hurrying to avoid further disgrace, Giselle pulled up a video of Seamus absent of vigor and absent of free will as displayed by him doing Giselle's every command.

  Madame Wanda observed this with the interest of a very tired Walmart greeter.

  "Is he always like that?"

  "He wasn't at first."

  "Has this man encountered a Psypire?"

  "A what?"

  "A psychic vampire."

  A psychic vampire sounded even worse than raven-headed demons or creepy royal serial killers. Way worse!

  "That could not be it," Madame Wanda spoke to herself. "A psychic vampire exercises control of their victims remotely. They never control the lost souls a hundred percent of the time. And the psychic vampire would have to routinely feed upon their psyche."

  Yep, psychic vampire sounded much worse than Tryggyr.

  "A necromancer?" Wanda said to herself. " No. His body would be in decay, held together by malevolent energies."

  I'm starting to really wish I had gone to UCLA.

  Madame Wanda nodded to herself, her musings now internalized. But her sighs were so brooding Giselle was starting to think someone laid some heavy shit on SeaSeaSea and the others.

  "I can only guess, young Giselle, these men are toiling under the One Night Curse."

  Curiosity overload. Giselle’s fear of malevolent energies and psychic vampires made her quickly lean in closer to get more out of Madame Wanda.

  "It is called such because the caster needs only one night of sex with a victim to gain control over their life force and energy. It is a powerful demonic work."

  I think I saw that in anime! Giselle realized, determining cartoons were a good barometer for real life.

  "The curse will soon place the men under the caster's permanent control," Madame Wanda declared. And Giselle thought she saw the mist in the glass balls getting agitated.