Midlife at Midnight: Paranormal Women's Fantasy
Author: Victoria Danann
Date: 2000-01-01 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Paranormal; Romance; Magic; Fae; Vampires; Witches; Mythology; Shapeshifters; Mystery
Description: EVIE IS MISSING! Rita is hysterical. Keir is near panic. Diarmuid is beside himself. The thrilling tale of the Wild Hunt as a first responder rescue unit. And a Beltane Handfasting like no other.

Trials of Tregeagle

NOT TOO LATE, Book 6

by Victoria Danann

Copyright 2021 Victoria Danann®

Published by 7th House Publishing, Imprint of Andromeda LLC

Read more about this author and upcoming works at VictoriaDanann.com

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Contents

Trials of Tregeagle

CHAPTER ONE The Yunnan Witch’s Daughter

CHAPTER TWO  Terms of Endearment

CHAPTER THREE  The Gogmagog Child

CHAPTER FOUR  The Case of the Kludde

CHAPTER FIVE Can’t You See It?

CHAPTER SIX  Emissary

CHAPTER SEVEN The Monkey King

CHAPTER EIGHT  The Buster Ban

CHAPTER NINE  The Court Must Go On

CHAPTER TEN  If Pigs Could Fly

CHAPTER ELEVEN  A Horse is A Horse, Of Course, Of Course

CHAPTER TWELVE  Maddie

CHAPTER THIRTEEN  The Case of the Kludde Part Deux
more PARANORMAL WOMEN’S FANTASY

Victoria Danann®

CHAPTER ONE The Yunnan Witch’s Daughter

Milo Winstruck set out on a venture to human China because it had been a while since he’d experienced the delights of Eastern tastes, sights, and sounds. Those who are blessed with very long life, such as fae, experience the paired curse of boredom. A friend had suggested that Milo take a side trip to the Yuanmou Clay Forest in Yunnan Province before immersing in Macao’s gambling or theater in Beijing. The friend made the unlikely claim that the natural formations of Yuanmou are more spectacular than anything in faerie.

Indeed, when Milo arrived he had to concede that his friend had not been hyperbolic regarding the unique other-worldliness of the Clay Forest. The larger formations appear to be abandoned castles or gothic cathedrals that gleam like spot lit gold in sunlight. In fact, under certain atmospheric conditions, the clay columns have been known to dash out sparkling rays.

For millennia the area has been rumored to be magical. A beautiful fairyland by day. A hellish skyline of gothic silhouettes and ghostly phantoms at night. It’s reported that few have had the courage to walk into the clay forest after dusk.

In light of this, it shouldn’t be a surprise that clusters of witches may be found in Yunnan Province, as witches tend to be drawn to magical places.

Milo examined the phenomenon for some time and didn’t leave until he was certain he’d learned what there was to learn from Yuanmou’s visual deceptions and tricks of light.

He’d decided to experience the region as human backpackers do; on foot, because Yunnan Province offers some of the best off-the-beaten-path experiences.

On his way to Dali Old Town, he encountered Li Jing, an exotically beautiful girl. He seduced her then left without another thought on the matter.

The girl had believed Milo to be an exceptionally handsome human and even found his somewhat three-dimensional features appealing, but her mother, Min Qiang, knew him to be Xian; extra-human.

As a child, Min Qiang had been identified as magically gifted and recruited for training under subterfuge. Her parents were told that her talents were musical and that she was learning to play musical instruments. Even as a child, she was wise enough to understand not to share what she learned with others.

When Milo disappeared, Li Jing became so distraught that she lost interest in everything from personal hygiene to eating. As the girl withered away Min Qiang became more and more desperate, but try as she might, she couldn’t find a cure, spell, or argument that would reverse her daughter’s march toward death.

A year later Min Qiang submitted the case to Rita’s court because Milo was under her jurisdiction. The witch’s inconsolable bereavement at the passing of her only child had long since given way to fury. She’d survived seven miscarriages before Li Jing was born because her teachers had forgotten to tell her not to engage magics when pregnant.

Rita had declined to hear the case. The polite letter of refusal that was sent said that romantic encounters frequently lead to broken hearts, that it is part of the grand scheme, and that romantic outcomes can’t be adjudicated. That, tragic as it was, the girl was responsible for her response.

Min Qiang disagreed. She believed that the world-wise fae had taken undue advantage of a young woman with no history of romantic interlude or even flirtation. Since she believed the court to have been her best chance at justice, after receiving Lochlan’s letter, she shifted the focus of her considerable anger from Milo to Rita. Min Qiang knew that even a talented witch such as herself would have little impact on a Xian like Milo. On the other hand, Rita’s humanity made her a fertile target for a mother’s grief turned to wrath.

And she knew exactly what to do.

CHAPTER TWO  Terms of Endearment

“Hi, Mom,” Evie said as she breezed through the mud room door, slamming it closed with her foot because her hands were busy petting wiggling fraighounds in Border Collie form.

“Don’t slam the door,” I said absently without looking away from Kagan and Esme, who were standing in my kitchen glaring at me.

She glanced up. “Okay. Hey. Mom. Do you look younger? You couldn’t have gotten a facelift. I just saw you four days ago.”

“No,” I said simply.

“Well, you look rosy,” she said.

I pulled my gaze away from Kagan and Esme, to focus on Evie and say, “That’s because I’m blushing. Probably.”

“Blushing?” Evie’s eyes went direct to where Esmerelda stood. “Why?”

“Well…”

Keir chose that moment to return from the greenhouse carrying five gorgeous prize-winning tomatoes. He scanned the room. “What’s up?”

Esme turned toward Keir. “In your absence, I caught the judge pawing my boyfriend.”

Keir took a deep breath and set the tomatoes down on the island.

“Those are beautiful,” I said.

His eyes came up to mine. “They are indeed,” he said solemnly. His attention turned to Esme. “You were saying?”

A few minutes before this ghastly misunderstanding was kicked off, I’d come running into the kitchen, exhilarated by a great morning of magical antiquing at the shop, eager to share my enthusiasm. Keir was poking the kitchen fire, back to me. I through my arms around him from behind. When he turned toward me, I was about to plant a big, wet, messy kiss on his beautiful mouth when firm hands took hold of my shoulders and pushed me back.

Esme stepped into the room. She’d apparently been wandering about doing gods-knows-what. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

I opened my mouth to ask why she was there, but remembered priorities. I was even more interested in why Keir had pushed me away. When my eyes jerked to his face, I knew why. It wasn’t Keir. It was Kagan. Keir never looked so… unfriendly. Not even when he was mad.

“I’m, um, coming home from work?”

It was at that point that Evie popped in.

Esme sniffed. “I suppose it bears repeating. Rita was making advances to Kagan.”

“And since when do you call Kagan your boyfriend?” I demanded in return.

Esme raised her chin. “We have a lot in common.”

“Yes,” I said. “You’re both stern, pissy, and reclusive.”

“On the harsh side, Rita,” Keir admonished.

“Don’t take their side,” I told him with my own undertones of warning. He held up his hands. “So sue me if I come home to my house to find a sephalian poking about in my kitchen fire and assume it’s my husband.”

Keir looked at Esme. “She has a point.”

Esme sniffed again.

Evie started giggling. “It’s a unique problem, Mom.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what you could do? When people have triplets they put different color studs in their ears so they can tell the difference.”

Keir was shaking his head before she finished. “Not doing that.”

“Concur,” said Kagan. “And I do no’ appreciate bein’ described as pissy.”

“Okay,” I said. “I take it back.”

“Very well.”

“By the way,” I turned to Esme, “you’re here because?”

“Keir invited us for a game of Shanghai.”

“Shanghai? The card game?” Had Keir ever mentioned cards to me?

“I thought you were preoccupied at The Hallows,” Keir said.

“I don’t have a problem with you playing cards.” I looked around the room. “Or having people over. I just don’t want like being accused of poaching somebody else’s, um, boyfriend.”

“Understandable,” Keir agreed.

“I guess I can’t promise this will never happen again,” I told Kagan. “But you might be mindful when you’re in my house that I may mistake you for Keir if I can’t see your face.”

“She’s right,” Keir agreed amiably. The boy knew where the bread was buttered.

“Well,” Evie said, “now that that’s settled. Erm, congrats to Kagan and Esme for making a match. Woohoo. Not an easy thing to do. And especially not when…” Evie’s eye caught the movement of my shaking head and she stopped just as she was about to add another impolitic comment about personalities. “…you live so far apart.”

I smiled to acknowledge the slick verbal recovery.

Kagan and Esme responded with identical scowls.

I turned toward my kid. “Evie, would you like to play Shanghai? Five is a good number.”

“No. I just stopped by to share a little bit of news, but it can wait,” Evie said cheerfully.

“You’re pregnant!” Esme blurted out.

Evie and I both turned to stare at her, slack jawed.

After a few beats, Evie said, “I’m going to report you to the Council for not having any self-control. Or ethical guidelines.”

“Sorry.” I’d never seen Esme look sheepish before and honestly didn’t think it was possible. “I just got, ah, excited?”

Evie smiled. “It is exciting! Right?”

I closed the three steps between myself and my only child and enveloped her in a big, warm, rocking hug. My baby was going to have a baby. Gods help her.

“You’re happy,” she said quietly, close to my ear just before a little giggle bubbled up.

For the briefest moment I was transported backward in time to a moment when a two-year-old Evie giggled much the same way and patted my cheek with a chubby little hand.

“Yes. And no. I have mixed feelings.”

I pulled back so I could see her flawless fae beauty. We rarely look at the people closest to us. I mean really look. What I saw in Evie’s eyes was definitely different than the last time I’d checked in. She had taken on a calm maturity along with a hint of wisewoman peacefulness. She was ready. That recognition brought a long, involuntary sigh.

“Children are a big, messy mixed bag,” I lectured. “I’d have liked for you and Diarmuid to have a few centuries just the two of you, to get to know each other, first.”

Evie chuckled. “I know him.”

“You know the pre-dad side of him.”

“He’s going to be a marvelous dad. Since he spent so much of his life without a father, he knows how important it is. He also has second-hand experience since he had to step in and be the male role model for his brother.” My expression must’ve given away what I was thinking. “Alright. I know. I know. That didn’t turn out well, but it’s not the same.”

“Then don’t list it as a bullet point on his dad resume.”

“Point taken. Regardless, you’re happy? About being a grandmom?”

“Of course, I’m happy.”

“It doesn’t mean you’re old, you know. You’ll be the cool grand who’s married to a smoking hot sephalian.”

“Evie!”

“What?”

“You’re not allowed to notice that Keir is hot.”

“Smoking hot,” she repeated then laughed a throaty laugh, reminding me all over again just how grown up she was. “Come on. I have eyes.”

“So that intro about looking younger was a setup? Smoothing the way for the news that I’m going to be an incredibly young grandmother?”

She cocked her head in consideration. “Wish I’d thought of that. But no. You actually do look younger.”

“Really?” I couldn’t help it, but wanted to slap myself for being so shallow and easily manipulated.

“Really,” she answered, sounding fairly sincere. “Like I said, I have eyes. So, do you have time to look at paint samples for the nursery, right? It’ll only take a minute.”

Keir turned to Kagan. “Want to join me in the sports den?”

Kagan put down the poker and followed without a word.

“Girl or boy?” I asked without thinking. When my brain caught up, I whirled on Esme. “Don’t you dare tell until you find out if Evie wants to know!”

Esmerelda closed her mouth, clearly caught at the ready.

“Evie,” I said, “do you know? Do you want to know?”

“I do know,” she said. “Can’t tell you how. I just do.”

“Well? Is it a secret?”

“Not at all. Diarmuid and I will be the proud parents of an Irish fae princess named Rhiannon.”

“You’ve named her?” I said.

“Mom, I have to nail down every decision that’s important to me, including paint samples, before my mother-in-law finds out. You know how she is. She will try to commandeer every detail.”

Crossing my arms in front of me I leaned back against a kitchen counter. “Yes. Indeed, I do know how she is.” After a brief pause, I added, “Everybody knows how she is. Still, I have to give her props.”

“Because of Keir,” Evie said.

“Yeah. Because of Keir. I like Rhiannon, by the way. A most excellent choice.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She beamed.

“Now let’s see those paint choices.”

I expected to be presented with a painter’s wheel of colorful little squares. Instead, she turned her back to me and drew a swath of color in the air with an invisible wide paintbrush. Three more color strips were quickly added.

“Um. That’s a cool trick,” I said.

She smiled and waved at the samples hovering in the air. “What do you think?”

“Is this one of those times when you want me to support whatever you want or is it one of those times when you want me to be honest?”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “Does that mean you don’t like any of them?”

“The first rule of nursery debate is that you can’t answer a question with a question.”

“Okay. Honest.”

“In that case, I’d stay away from pink. My granddaughter is not a cliché. She’s a terror.” Evie and Esme both smiled at that. I could see the idea appealed to them. “Yes. You’re smiling now because you think I’m always going to be available for babysitting. But noooooooo.” I shook my head vigorously. “The other grandmother will always be available for babysitting. She’s retired. I’m not.”

Esme piped up. “I’ll do it!”

Evie and I both turned and said, “No!” in unison.

Esme pouted. She had a right. It was rude of us.

Evie made a show of inhaling and exhaling, then said, “Babysitting isn’t a problem at the moment. So, as you always say, Mom, let’s don’t borrow trouble. The issue at hand is nursery décor.”

I clapped my hands. It was a gesture I learned from Thor. He did it whenever he’d reached an internal resolution. “Indeed. I was about to say that you’ll be doing yourself a favor if you stick with very cool, calm colors. Pale sage and sea green. The goal is calming.”

“Hmmm,” Evie said, mulling that over.

I took that as my cue to expound. “I’ve never understood why people fill children’s lives with glaring primary colors and then wonder why their children are hyperactive. They’re jumped up on the visual stimuli.”

“I get what you’re saying.” Evie was nodding slightly.

She swiped her hand through the air. The previous array disappeared and was instantly replaced with pretty much what I’d described.

I grinned. “You’re a good listener, Evie.” My smile fell. “Unless you were actually poking around in my head.”

“I wasn’t poking around,” she said, “but sometimes I get impressions. It’s involuntary. I saw the colors you meant when you talked about them.” She studied the pallet for a few seconds. “I like it. Feminine.” She looked at me pointedly. “Calm. It suits her. I can tell.”

Again, she swiped the swatches from the air. “So, you’re thinking she won’t be dressing up as Disney princesses. She’ll be riding dragons.”

I couldn’t help it. I was alarmed by that. “Oh gods.” Suddenly I felt like I had to sit down. If I’d been wearing pearls I would have clutched them. “Please don’t say that. If my granddaughter is going to be riding dragons, you’re just going to have to keep it a secret from me. Or I’ll never sleep again.”

I heard Keir’s smooth voice just before he rounded the doorway to the kitchen. “Why aren’t you sleeping ever again?”

“Evie is letting my granddaughter ride dragons.”

Keir laughed. “Well. That’s fitting. You ride a sephalian.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Somehow it seemed different when it was me. “That’s right! I blazed the trail. Let it not be forgotten.” Pause. “Could my life get any stranger?”

“Nothing strange about becoming a ‘grand’,” Evie said.

“Yeah.”

I’d learned during my time as magistrate that the fae have a special appreciation for children because they grow to adulthood much faster than humans. Perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed to me that Evie had taken on a slight nuance of maturity since learning that she was soon to be somebody’s mother.

A rustling at the mudroom door preceded Olivia’s arrival. She appeared surprised by the little crowd and hesitated on the threshold with two bags of groceries in her arms. As usual, she was good-naturedly accepting the greeting from my hounds. That involved running tight circles around her knees like each was chasing the other’s tail. A human would’ve been tangled, tripped, and cursing a blue streak.

“Good morning, Liv,” I said. “We’ll take this to the living room so we won’t be in the way.”

“Morning, Mag… I mean, Rita.”

One of these days I might give up and tell her to feel free to call me Magistrate.

I looked around. “Shoo. Shoo. Boys to lair. Girls to cushy sofas by the front windows.”

“I’d love to stay for legendary lunch,” Evie began, “but I have a thing. Just had to pop in long enough deliver the unbelievable news!!!”

I laughed. “Thank you for taking time. Come get me for tea later this week.”

I never missed an opportunity to invite myself to Kings Landing.

“Done. And done. I’ll call you the human way,” she said as she started toward the door. She didn’t need a door, but was careful to observe human-fae protocol, now and then.

“Well. Good. ‘Cause that’s what I am. Um. Human.”

She chuckled as she turned the corner to the mudroom and then disappeared. How do I know she disappeared? Because there was no noise from the door and it had developed a minor annoyance of a creak. I didn’t ask Dolan to fix it because it was a second level alarm. The first level being my dogs, of course.

I turned toward Esme.

“Returning to the shop. You never know when a customer may show up on a Tuesday morning before hours,” she said.

That was Esme’s version of politely declining hospitality.

“Okay then. You were just here to…”

“I was accompanying the Scot sephalian on an errand to see his brother.”

“Oh. Nothing to do with me then.” She looked uncertain. I laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m neither hurt nor offended that you didn’t come to see me.”

“Excellent.” She was clearly relieved.

Without another word she left by way of the front door. I followed her out onto the porch, but lingered for two reasons. First, the fall weather was breathtaking. It was an unusually sunny day, just the right crispness in the air, and the trees across the way at Lochlan’s and Ivy’s looked color-enhanced.

I supposed they were color-enhanced in a supernatural pixie version of fall color. Whatever the reason, I’d take it. The view from my front step was a postcard.

The second reason I stayed in place was because the mayor was coming up the walk. I noticed he’d approached from the west, highly unusual because he lived in the other direction, and because there was nothing to the west of me but hills.

“Rita. Rita. Rita,” he said cheerfully in his hail-fellow-well-met, Matthew McConaughey manner. Even though he wasn’t the official mayor, he was a born politician and a competent manager.

“That’s me.” I smiled. “Coming in?”

He looked around. “Just need a minute. And it’s so…”

My eyes followed his scan of our surroundings. “Yes it is ‘so’.”

I motioned to the pair of Adirondack chairs. He nodded and returned my smile. When I’d included the chairs in my vision, it was more because I’d seen them in a painting that stuck in my head, and not because I thought I’d actually spend time sitting on the front porch. Life was full of surprises because there I was, sitting down in one of the porch chairs.

“What can I do for you, Mayor?”

He always brightened when I called him that. I was careful to do so only when Lochlan wasn’t around because the subject of Mistral being called Mayor set Lochlan’s teeth on edge. I supposed he’d always considered himself to be the unofficial leader of Hallow Hill.

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Olivia stepped through the door I’d left standing open.

“Will you be taking tea on the porch then?” she asked, gingerly wiping hands on her pristine white apron.

I looked at Mistral.

“Well,” he began, “if it’s not too much trouble. I can think of nothing better than a spot with the Magistrate on a glorious morning of riotous color and agreeable weather.”

The man had a way with words.

I nodded at Olivia. “Very kind of you to offer, Liv.”

She gave me one of her tiny head bows and withdrew.

“You were saying?”

“Saying?” he asked. “Oh, yes. Why I’ve come to call.” I nodded encouragingly. “It’s a bit of a favor I’m after.”

“You can’t come to legendary lunch every day.”

“What? Oh, no. That’s not… I mean… that would be wonderful, but it’s…”

“I’m messing with you Mayor Mistral. Spit it out.”

He took in a big breath that could be the harbinger of a big ask. “I have a conflict. My friend’s nephew is visiting for a fortnight. I’m supposed to be caring for him.”

“Nice of you.”

“Thanks. The thing is I’d promised Molly a special occasion to commemorate the first anniversary of our, ah…”

“Relationship?”

“Just so.” He showed me his high-beam grin. “I’ve planned a picnic.”

“You want me to babysit because you have a date.”

“Succinctly American.”

“Is there any reason why I should say no?” After a year in Hallow Hill I’d learned to be wary of magic kind seeking favors.

“I thought you might entertain him by letting him play with the fraighounds.”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

“You mean you’ll do it?” He sounded unprepared for a yes.

“Sure.”

“It will have to be a Tregeagle. That’s where we’re staying.”

“You’re staying at Tregeagle?”

I hadn’t known it was available to be used as an inn.

“Keir Culain kindly extended permission,” Mistral hastened to add. “I asked
you.”

“Well, I’m glad you men got that sorted out. When is your picnic?”

“This afternoon?”

I had to smile. Magic kind were nothing if not impulsive, Lochlan being the exception. Perhaps the single exception. Planning ahead wasn’t usually on the menu.

“And how old is this child?”

Mistral’s face reflected his perplexity. “I think you want me to guess his state of development in comparison to humans.”

“That would be helpful, yes.”

After another few seconds, he tentatively offered, “Ten?”

Since it happened that I had nothing more pressing than perusing possible cases for the Mabon Court, I said, “Okay.”

CHAPTER THREE The Gogmagog Child

“I knew you’d agree,” Keir said.

“You did?”

“No special talent required. You’re a soft touch.”

“Hmm.”

“I mean that in the very best way. Want company?”

“Sure. If you can tear yourself away from watching grown men play in the mud.”

He chuckled. At times I think he likes the fact that I find professional contact sports to be the antithesis of civilization.

“No need. I can watch at my house while you’re busy,” he replied.

“So let me get this straight. We have our house and your house?”

He froze. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“Neither had I.”

I was treated to his rare lopsided sheepish smile. “What’s mine is yours?”

“Glad we agree.”

Liv prepared a light lunch of chicken salad on mini croissants and seven-onion soup. We enjoyed it thoroughly then put the leftover minis and some cheese in baggies to take along. Since Keir no longer lived at the gatehouse cottage, there wasn’t much there in the way of refreshment, but I’d bet the TVs were working fine.

“Guess what, Romeo?” I asked as I crossed from the kitchen to Romeo’s room.

“All ears, madam.”

“You are not all ears, Romeo. You don’t have ears.”

“Expressions do not require relevancy.”

“Well. That’s true enough. Anyway, we’re going on a family outing.”

“Family outing, madam?”

“Yes. You, Keir, Finn, Frey, and me.”

“Have the hounds had their nails trimmed?” he asked brazenly like he thought he had a choice as to whether he would transport my family.

“Of course. When did you become so demanding?”

“I don’t think of myself as demanding so I could not tell you when or if I became that way.”

“Do you think of yourself as being difficult?”

“I do not.”

“Precious?”

“Of course.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, you are. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t trade you in for a more convivial model.”

“I assure you that there is no automobile in all the land more convivial than I. And, certainly none more beautiful.”

“I grant you that. The part about beauty, I mean.”

“You’re talking to the car again?” Keir asked as he started Romeo with the key fob and opened the garage door at the same time.

The dogs were beyond excited when they realized they were going, turning in circles and wiggling like fools.

“Please do not allow the curs to drool on my windows,” Romeo said.

“Yes. I’m talking to the car. Romeo, you know the dogs are going to drool on the windows because we’re going to roll them partway down. They’ll hang their heads out and saliva will fly.” Romeo made a sound of disgust I hadn’t heard before. I couldn’t help but wonder who had included thought to include that in the car’s program. Someone incredibly thorough and boring at dinner parties, no doubt. “But you know that I will make your windows showroom fresh when we get home.”

“You won’t leave me like that overnight?”

“Of course, not.”

Romeo sighed. “Very well. Please tell them not to jump up and down and dig their claws into my seats.”

Keir stopped putting Finn and Frey in the back seat long enough to lock gazes with me. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as I; that Romeo’s responses were becoming increasingly more diverse and complex, as if he was learning speech and behaviors from us.

There were times I wondered if my dogs were having a better life. If I’d ever attained the exquisite level of pure transcendent joy they received from a simple car ride, I didn’t know when that might’ve been. I made a mental note to take them for joy rides more often.

The glorious ruins of Tregeagle came into sight, disguised to hide the truer glory from human eyes, they were beautiful in their own way. I had perfected the ability to see the world as human or magic kind at will and took pride in the fact that I was, perhaps, the only creature alive with the choice.

We drove up the hillside and stopped. The grass was kept short and manicured, not by magic, but by sheep. The dogs could not contain themselves, so I hurried to release them before they did actual damage to the Italian leather of Romeo’s luxurious interior. I had no confidence that he might not try to run them over. He was fully capable of putting himself in driverless mode.

Mistral came out to meet us right away with a big wave and a bigger, “Hello, there!”

“Hi.” I waved back as the dogs bounded out of the car and away. “Where’s my little charge?”

“Uh…” he said, smile falling. That was my first inkling that the afternoon wasn’t to go the way I’d pictured.

“What do you mean ‘uh’?” I asked.

“Well, he’s not exactly…” Mistral began, but there was no need to finish the sentence.

The unofficial mayor had left the giant doors of Tregeagle standing open. Still, the kid had to duck to emerge.

As he trotted forward, I can’t say for sure that the ground shook, but I imagined that it did. Though the creature advancing toward us was clearly childlike in face and form, he was easily twelve feet tall. He had bright red hair that was shaggy and curled around his ears, offset by bright blue eyes. He was shirtless and barefoot, but wore a sort of skirt made of skins and secured by a wide belt.

He was oddly proportioned in the sense that his thighs and biceps were thin while his forearms and calves were large ending in oversized hands and feet. I was pretty sure I’d seen some of his relatives the night I rode the Wild Hunt with Keir, but I couldn’t be certain because, honestly, I’d tried to avoid seeing everything there was to see.

It seemed to me that a year should’ve been plenty of time to get over being surprised. Yet there I was.

When I thoughts began to congeal once more, I said to Mistral, “So my charge is not little.”

“Did I, uh, fail to mention that?” he asked. “He’s gogmagog.”

After giving him a look, I tilted my head back so that I could address the boy directly. “Hi.” He ducked his chin in a universally understood expression of shyness. “What’s your name?”

His smile was small, but engaging. “Kyle,” he said. “Kyle Lochlash.”

“Kyle Lochlash. What a fine name. Can I call you Kyle?” He nodded. “I understand you like dogs.”

Finn and Frey had come to stand next to me. They must’ve decided they needed to be protective because they’d changed into their hound forms. Kyle’s gaze went straight to my hounds, and I saw there a longing that, again, was universally understood. Boys and dogs.

As I looked at Finn and Frey, they game me their full attention, ears up, heads cocked to the side. “Would you like to play with Kyle?” Finn’s gaze flicked to Kyle as if he’d understood me perfectly and back again. The small tail wag would have to do. “Very good then. If you can wear Kyle out, there’ll be some salmon in your trays tonight.”

That got me a much more emphatic tail wag.

Finn trotted a few yards away, turned toward Kyle, crouched, and barked.

Kyle laughed and began running, the dogs keeping pace.

“Kyle, stay where I can see you!” I shouted after him. Although I had no idea how I would enforce rules with a giant child.

Wheeling on Mistral, I said, “Really?”

“Well, I…” He didn’t have the chance to finish the sentence.

“You didn’t tell her who she was babysitting?” Keir asked accusatorily.

“Kids are kids,” Mistral said defensively.

Keir just shook his head.

“How am I supposed to watch that…?” My eyes returned to Kyle’s retreating form. “And keep him safe from harm?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Mistral said. “Gogmagogs are hard to kill.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“Yes?” Mistral ventured.

With an exasperated huff I threw my hands up. “Mistral. Kyle may not be a danger to my dogs. Or to magic kind. BUT I’M HUMAN! He could accidentally, unintentionally, end me on his way past and not even know he did it.”

“She’s right,” Keir said. “This was thoughtless.”

Mistral looked stricken. “I didn’t think about…”

“Clearly,” I interrupted.

“Rita,” Keir said, “head down to the gatehouse and stay inside. I’ll take care of Kyle and watch the dogs.”

Gods bless him.

There was just no point in arguing the wisdom of that. “Thank you, Keir. Appreciate the rescue. I’m going to call Lochlan and see if he can pick me up and take me home. I could use the time to plow further into the Mabon files.”

Keir nodded. “See you at home then.” Leveling a piercing look at Mistral, he added, “You. Owe. Me.”

Mistral’s shoulders slumped in a way that made me wonder about being indebted to a sephalian.

When I turned to start down the hill toward safety, I was stopped in my tracks by the spectacular panorama. From the vantage point of Tregeagle the fall color was breathtaking. The reds were redder. The yellows were yellower. Even the remaining greens resembled the brightness of new growth. Set against the view of multiple lakes, I wanted to just sit down right there on the side of the hill and stay for a while.

Then I remembered the ‘joke’ video titled Godzilla and Bambi and got moving.

Maggie had mentioned that even the mundane forest sprites had outdone themselves, something about spikes of extreme cold. She’d said it was almost as beautiful as fall in Irish faerie.

I couldn’t imagine that fall in Irish faerie could be more beautiful, but I made a mental note to have tea at Kings Landing and find out.

Lochlan arrived in his seldom-used black Bentley that looked like a ride for a head of state. It was as staid and dependable as he was, and suited him perfectly.

As I folded myself into the passenger seat, he said, “Gogmagog, you say?”

“Yeah. How big do they get when they’re grown?”

“Adults are a little taller than the highest spire of Tregeagle.”

“Huh.”

“Well, things worked out for the best. It’s just as well you spend the time to further your Mabon selection. You are behind.”

“I am not behind,” I said as we drove down the hill.

“By my estimation, you should have half the docket filled. You do not.”

I crossed my arms over my midsection and looked out the window. “You’re taking the fun out of it.”

If I hadn’t been looking the other direction, I would’ve caught the surprise on Lochlan’s face.

“You find your duties as magistrate fun?”

“Well, maybe fun is the wrong word. I find my duties fulfilling and, at times, enjoyable. It certainly gives me purpose. Of course there’s a solemn aspect to it all.”

“I should think so!”

“Knowing that there’s only one person in the worlds who performs my duties lends a heft factor to the job. I like having purpose. And, if I’m being completely honest, being the only magistrate to magic kind could go to my head.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Undoubtedly one of the reasons why the Powers That Be chose you is precisely because it wouldn’t go to your head.”

“Hmm.”

“Indeed. From what I’ve observed of your character this past year, I’d say you’re beyond both corruption and conceit.”

I looked over at the driver, which meant turning my head to the right. I didn’t know how long it would take me to get used to that. Maybe I never would.

“What a nice thing to say, Lochlan.”

“It’s not flattery, Rita. Just the truth as I see it.”

The car slowed and stopped in front of my gate.

“Want to come in for tea?” I asked.

“Very kind, but I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your work.”

“I don’t think I like taskmaster Lochlan.” He shrugged. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Certainly. Always a pleasure to be of service.”

I watched him pull into his drive across the way, but instead of turning toward my door and set out to check on The Hallows and say hello to the staff.

“Maggie!” I called as the door closed behind me.

“Here,” came her cheerful reply from somewhere in back. She breezed into the shop with the light step of a human half the size of her human form. “’Tis Tuesday.”

“I…” I paused, unsure how to reply to that. “I know. Is it a special occasion?”
“Must be. Because you come to the shop on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. When you’re no’ in court o’ course.”

“Really? I hadn’t realized I had settled into such a predictable pattern. I don’t really care for being predictable to that extent.”

Maggie smiled. “Well, then. Consider the pattern broken. Since ‘tis Tuesday and all.”

CHAPTER FOUR  The Case of the Kludde

I hadn’t sat for the Mabon Court the previous year, but the date was so close that I privately, internally, counted Mabon as the first anniversary of my time as magistrate and citizen of magical reality.

The first few cases I read lacked the substance I looked for when deciding what would be included on an upcoming docket.

The case of the kludde was worthy of my attention and definitely made the cut.

The file began something like this. A rogue kludde is terrorizing the Flemish countryside.

If that wouldn’t send you straight to Wikipedia, good for you. As for me, I had to research both “kludde” and “Flemish”. Yes, I knew the term Flemish was related to Flanders, but I wasn’t clear on where to find Flanders on a map.

In my defense, that’s partly because it has no modern-day geographical boundaries. The definition of what constitutes Flanders has varied through history. At present, it refers to the Dutch-speaking part of the Kingdom of Belgium. I made a mental note that, in the fae world that would be part of Queen Femke’s territory, House of Alprupert.

My brief study of Flanders history was dry and of little interest to me beyond the pertinent facts. Accounts of the kludde were anything, but dry and uninteresting.

The kludde struck me as being a most intriguing; a monster who loves pranks.

The kludde can appear as a dog, wolf, horse, sheep, cat, bat, frog, or snake and can speak in any form, either literally or telepathically. The only recognizable constant is a blue flame originating in the creature’s eyes that can be projected onto the path before it or dance around its visage. In some places it’s called werewolf. In others, it’s called demon.

In the form of a horse, he may trick someone into climbing onto his back, then run at full speed toward a body of water where he flings the rider into a stream or lake or pond. He then lies on his belly and laughs as his surprised victim flounders in the water.

He’s also been known to appear and interact with only one of a group of travelers while remaining invisible to the rest. The unfortunate pilgrim tries in vain to convince the others of what he sees while the kludde laughs.

I gathered from the brief that this particular kludde had been under the control of a human witch for the better part of a century. He was, in fact, her familiar, but her death set him free to enjoy all the rampaging he’d been craving.

Reading further, I saw that it was, in fact, the House of Alprupert bringing the suit to appeal to the court and, by extension, the Bureau of Behavioral Oversight, to regain control of the thing before hysteria spread further.

I put it on the top of the “yes” pile.

CHAPTER FIVE Can’t You See It?

I spent a quiet afternoon reviewing and sorting briefs, enjoyed a hand-in-hand stroll to the pub for supper with Keir, then went to sleep reading The Midnight Library.

My next conscious moment was a cross between confusion and horror.

I can’t breathe, I thought.

As I lay on my back, lungs crying to be filled with sweet, blessed air, I quickly realized that wasn’t my only problem. There was also the fact that I felt like something that weighed a ton was sitting on my chest.

I tried to reason with my own runaway imagination, telling myself that I was merely experiencing the remnants of a nightmare and that the last wispy vapors would vanish as soon as I opened my eyes. In fact, I wouldn’t even be able to recall the profound dread, interlaced with anxiety, that was causing my heart to race.

I cracked my eyes open, fully expecting the unwanted imagery and feelings to dissipate as quickly as steam from a tea kettle. That’s what dreams do. Except in this case.

Instead, the pit in my stomach turned to full blown hysteria. My impulse was to gasp, but my lungs weren’t working. I tried to cry out, but if my voice was working, it was irrelevant because vocal cords require breath.

I tried to leap from the bed, but there was no response from my body. Communication between my brain and motor response was down and out.

I was paralyzed and looking straight into the face of the ugliest hobgoblin imaginable, one that felt like it weighed hundreds of pounds.

The thing was more hairy than furry, covered in a black and gray coat about two inches long. It was about two feet tall with legs so short its body was mostly torso. Its arms were slightly longer than its legs and folded against its chest like it had taken up residence and was planning to stay for a while.

It had bulging black eyes, a smashed-in nose with large nostrils, and a mouth turned downward like a sad emoji. In spite of the shape of its mouth, I knew the thing was not sad. Quite the opposite. It was on a mission and was enjoying my terror, perhaps even gaining energy from it. Describing the creature as ugly would be a severe understatement. Its face was designed to evoke a primeval fear, the kind that goes all the way to the crocodile core of the brain. Aside from horror of the gothic variety, I tried not to think too hard about the fact that this thing’s bare bottom was sitting on my chest with nothing between it and me but a silk nightshirt.

Ew.

I tried to move my head to signal Keir, but every muscle was inert.

I’m hardly a serious student of Zen, but I had been to yoga a few times and learned how to slow my breathing. As soon as the thought jumped into my head, I remembered that I wasn’t breathing. I wasn’t sure how I was alive and awake without breathing, but strange things happen when magic kind are about.

Because it’s impossible for human systems to maintain a red-level alert indefinitely, I began to calm and settle into the bizarre circumstance. Don’t ask me how. Humans are amazingly, astoundingly, supremely adaptable. I tried to reason with myself, thinking that, if I could stay calm and hang on, help would come. Meanwhile, though the weight on my chest was uncomfortable, I wouldn’t call it pain. I could and would endure this affront to the reality I choose for a time.

When Liv arrived to start her day, a panic-stricken Keir jerked the doorknob out of her hand by flinging the door open with unaccustomed force. She saw immediately, by the expression on his face, that something was dreadfully wrong.

“Go get Lochlan,” he said with an intensity that was out of place on the characteristically serene sephalian. “It’s an emergency.”

Liv dropped the bag filled with ingredients for that day’s legendary lunch,  than ran around the house and across the lane as fast as she could. That was fast even by brownie standards. Had humans been near the lane that day, they wouldn’t have seen her until she stopped in front of Lochlan’s door.

Olivia’s default state of being was quiet, composed, and on the shy side, but that morning she made a fist and pounded on Lochlan’s door as hard as she could. He was there in seconds, dressed for work, and already wearing an expression of concern. That is to say more of an expression of concern than was his normal look.

“What has you in such a dither, Olivia?”

“The sephalian said to come for you. It’s an emergency.”

“What sort of emergency?”

She blinked rapidly. “He didn’t say, sir.”

Lochlan looked over his shoulder and said, “I’m going to Rita’s, Ivy. There’s an emergency.”

“What sort of emergency?” she called from within the house.

“Olivia doesn’t know. The sephalian told her to come.”

With that he closed the door behind him and followed Liv around Rita’s house to the mudroom door.

“Why didn’t we go in the front door?” Lochlan asked her.

Again, she blinked rapidly. “I didn’t think of it, sir. I enter this way.”

“Oh well, never mind.” He sounded exasperated. “Let me in.”

Lochlan had no more than set foot inside the threshold before Keir was dragging him toward the bedroom by the sleeve of his tweed jacket. Lochlan made no protest as he could see that Keir was in a state and, in mere seconds, they were both standing by the bed.

Olivia hung back, but bore witness from the open doorway. She began to wring her hands with nerves after she took in the scene.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s the matter then?” Lochlan demanded.

“She can’t be awakened. She isn’t moving.” Keir glanced over at Liv then leaned closer to Lochlan. His whispered voice shook slightly when he said, “She’s not breathing. And there’s not heartbeat.” Lochlan pulled back, looking horrified, to stare at Keir. “But she’s alive. I know it.”

“How can that be?” Lochlan asked. “Being human and all.”

“Well, she’s not entirely human anymore.”

“Close enough.”

Keir nodded. “I can’t explain it. What do I do? Who should I call?”

My latest doorbell sound, “You Can Do Magic”, filled the interminable silence for a few seconds. Keir took in a big breath, ran his hand through his hair, and appeared to be ignoring the redness around his eyes.

I gathered from what I was hearing that my eyes were closed, which certainly begged a question as to how I could see what was happening in the room. Well, at least in the narrow field of vision that wasn’t being blocked by the thing sitting on me. I also gathered that no one else was able to see it.

Inside my head I’d been screaming, “Can’t you see it?”, until I got the distinct feeling that the fiend was enjoying that. I quickly switched my internal chant to, “No thrills from me, Buster.” That was when I started making up names for him. Names like Bare Bottom Buster.

Olivia hurried to the front door.

Ivy stood there clearly eager for news. “Took a minute to get dressed,” she said as if Olivia must be expecting an explanation. “What is the emergency?”

Without considering that there could be reasons why the news shouldn’t be shared, Olivia went on autopilot and told the truth.

“The magistrate won’t wake up. She’s not breathing and has no heart sound, but the sephalian says she’s alive.”

Ivy’s blue eyes were as big and wide as a pixie’s eyes can be, which is considerable. “What’s wrong with her then?”

Liv shook her mane of shiny black hair. “We don’t know.”

“Alright. I want to hear more as soon as you know more.”

Liv nodded and closed the door.

Ivy didn’t go back home. She went straight to the Hallows. It wasn’t open yet, but Maggie and Dolan were inside. She changed to the smaller version of herself, entered through the mail slot, then changed back to human size.

Even at five feet two inches tall, Ivy was too light on her feet to be heard, which is why Maggie jumped when Ivy appeared in the workroom where she’d been conferring with Dolan.

Maggie grabbed at her chest, not because she had an anatomical heart, but because she’d seen humans perform that theatrical gesture enough times to adopt it. “Saints alive, Ivy. Why are ye sneakin’ about like a lurker?”

“I’m not sneaking about.”

“Came through the mail slot, did ye?”

“I’m trying to inform you of the emergency.”

“What sort of emergency?”

“The magistrate won’t wake up. She’s not breathing and has no heart sound, but the sephalian says she’s alive.”

Maggie gasped. Dolan frowned.

“Ivy, you know what this means.”

Ivy looked around. “No.”

“I may have to actually become a Catholic.”

“I don’t see…”

Ivy didn’t finish the sentence because Maggie was pushing her aside. “I must hurry over, me bein’ her best friend and all.”

“Lochlan says he’s her closest friend and confidante,” Ivy said with pride.

“Well, I do no’ care to call the elf a liar, but he’s sorely mistaken, he is.” Ivy opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off again. “If ye want to be useful, go find Esme and tell her the news. You ne’er know what remedies the weaver can conjure.”

As Maggie was opening the shop door, Ivy stepped past her onto the sidewalk and nodded. “Alright.”

By the time Maggie rang my doorbell, Ivy was telling Esme the news. After Esme dashed off to my house, Ivy went straight to the pub so that no one in the community would feel left out. She reasoned that the architect of Legendary Lunch would be sensitive to that. And she was right. I would be.

“And someone needs to contact John David. Rita would be miffed if he was excluded,” Ivy told Molly.

“Of course.” Molly reached for the phone she kept near the register. “I’ll call him then stop by to find out what’s being done to revive the magistrate.”

In less than twenty minutes from the time Ivy had rung my doorbell, much of the population of Hallow Hill was either milling around my house or standing uselessly in my bedroom staring at my allegedly lifeless form.

“Ivy, how did all these people learn about the magistrate’s unfortunate predicament?”

After a brief pause, I heard the pixie say, “I, em, told them?”

“Why would you do that? Didn’t you think this is Rita’s private business?”

“Well, no,” she said. “No one said anything about private business. What happens to the magistrate is everybody’s business.”

“No, it’s not,” Lochlan insisted.

“I think she would want her friends to know.”

Lochlan harumphed at that since nothing productive could come from arguing the point further.

Since my field of vision was limited to what I could see around Buster, I had to rely on voices to know who was in the room.

“Should we call a human doctor?” I heard Ivy ask.

“Certainly not,” Esme said.

“But she’s human,” Ivy persisted. “Doesn’t she need a breathing thing? And one of those tubes that feeds sick humans?”

I heard Molly’s voice. “An IV.”

“Yes,” Ivy responded. “An IV.”

“Maybe,” Esme agreed. “We could do an IV. I’m pretty sure I could figure it out.”

I was screaming, “NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!”, at the thought of Esme experimenting on me with IV needles and liquids. But Buster was the only one who heard me.

“There’s no need,” I heard Lily say and wondered how many people were in my bedroom. “Rita’s body is in a perfect state of stasis. No more talk of barbaric human torture devices.”

Thank you, Lily.

“You’re sure?” Lochlan asked.

“If you want a second opinion, call the Sandman,” Molly said. “He knows all about unconscious humans.”

“A useful suggestion,” Lochlan said. “My channels are diplomatic. Who knows the fastest way to reach him?”

“I do,” Keir offered. “I’ll ask Killian to fetch him.”

Keir went straight to his lair, called his brother to convey the unhappy news, then asked if he’d find and bring Maxfield Pteron as quickly as possible.

“She looks so peaceful,” Maggie said tearfully. “I do no’ like it at all.” She sniffed. “When will Evie be here?” The small crowd looked around at each other. “No one thought to contact the Irish Queen?” Maggie’s tone was incredulous.

“I’ll go,” Ivy said.

But there was no need. Word had somehow reached Kings Landing and Evie’s arrival was anything but quiet.

“Where is she?” Evie demanded. “Who’s taking care of her? And what in the name of Hadria has happened?”

I gathered that Lochlan was talking to Ivy when he said, “You see? By now news of the magistrate’s infirmity has spread throughout the whole of magic.”

“Well, it’s not like they wouldn’t eventually know,” Ivy said.

I could make out part of Evie’s figure as she stormed into the room. Her presence gave me a deep breath of relief. Perhaps not an actual physical breath. I suppose it was more like a virtual sigh.

“Well?” Evie’s question had taken on an imperious tone.

I heard Keir’s boots on the wood floor. “Killian will be here with Max in a few minutes. She was like this when I woke this morning,” Keir said. He probably sounded calm and composed to others, but I knew him well enough to hear that he was deeply unsettled. “She’s not breathing. She doesn’t have a heartbeat. But I know she’s alive. And I’m just as sure that she shouldn’t be moved.”

“I agree with the sephalian,” Esme said.

“Who knows what this is and what to do about it?” Evie demanded again.

“We’re working on it,” Lochlan said.

“Details, Lochlan,” Evie said. “Working on it tells me nothing.”

“One of the sephalians is arranging for the Bureau Ombudsman to make a house call,” he replied.

“The Sandman?” Evie said.

“Indeed. It was Molly’s suggestion.”

I heard Evie sigh. “So we’re waiting for Max.”

“I said I’d figure out an IV,” Esme offered.

“NO!” Evie was quick to head that off at the pass.

That’s my girl.

“Esme,” Evie said, “I know your heart’s in the right place, but you’re not experimenting on my mother.”

“I think we should clear the room of everyone but essential people,” Keir said. “Rita is a private person.”

“I agree,” Lochlan said as he turned to Maggie. “You need to go.”

“I have no intention of goin’ ye old tree fart. I’m her best friend,” Maggie said.

“Everyone is leaving the room except for Evie and me,” Keir announced evenly while pointedly looking at every individual except Evie.

“I must stay,” Esme said. “I’m the very definition of ‘essential’.”

“As am I,” Lochlan added.

“Perhaps I misused the word ‘essential’,” Keir began. “Let me say it another way. Everybody who’s not Rita or Evie or me, get out now. You’re welcome in the other rooms of our house. Olivia will make tea and little bites of things. Maggie, will you pass that message on to her?”

“I…” Esme rethought what she was about to say when she heard the tiniest low-level growl punctuating Keir’s resolve.

Without further protest, everyone except the sephalian and the Irish queen filed out. Keir closed the solid wood door when the last one was on the other side and the noise level dropped to the sound of muffled conversation.

“What do you think happened?” Evie asked Keir.

She sat on one side of the bed so that I could make out most of her face. Keir sat on the other.

“No idea. I’ve scanned the journals and couldn’t find a similar incident in magistrate history.”

“Somebody didn’t like a ruling?”

“The most obvious conclusion.”

“Whoever wished this on her didn’t want her dead or she’d…”

“Be dead.”

“I’m thinking yeah. You look really, really worried.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m worried. Of course. But not really, really. I just feel like this is going to work out.”

“I like your confidence. Might I ask why you seem so assured?”

“I could say it’s just a feeling, but it’s more than that. There’s actually a little logic in the mix.”

“How so?”

“Mom’s life has taken a turn toward good fortune and I just don’t think Lady Luck is done with her yet.”

“Lady Luck,” Keir mused while staring at Rita.

“You sound skeptical.” Keir looked across the bed at Evie.

The bedroom door opened after a single knock.

Keir’s eyes jerked to the door as a frown instantly furrowed his brow. “I SAID…”

“Stand down,” said Killian as he strode in with Max in tow. “It’s just me. And the Sandman.”

Keir and Evie both stood.

“Thank you for coming,” Keir said.

Max gave a quick nod to Keir before his gaze settled on Rita. He reached out and put two fingertips to her temple.

“She’s alive. Isn’t she?” Keir sounded more anxious than ever.

“Oh yes. She’s alive and can hear everything being said.”

Keir’s eyes jerked to Rita again as he allowed himself a huge sigh of relief. While he’d held an unshakeable belief that she was alive, it was still nice to have it confirmed by an expert. “So, what’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know,” Max said simply.

Keir ran his hand through his hair again as he said, “Oh no, no, no, no, no. This cannot be your answer. If you don’t know, who in Holy Hel would?”

Max shrugged. “Something of a mystery. I’ve not seen anything exactly like it before, but I may be able to offer some small bit of help.”

“Like what?” Evie’s question sounded like she was commanding Max to perform.

“I might be able to mitigate the paralysis to such extent that she can speak. Be prepared that she may not sound exactly like your Rita. The hope is that she’ll be able to provide new information. Fill in the blanks that will help us sort this out.” Max looked from Keir to Evie.

Both nodded their agreement. Keir said, “Go on.”

After Max drew some complicated gestures in the air I felt my lips part slightly just before I drew in a wheezy, weak-sounding breath.

“Mom,” Evie whispered as her hand flew to her mouth.

“Keir.” My voice didn’t sound like me at all, but I pressed on. “Get. This. Thing. Off. Me.” Each word was slowly uttered, a result of the labor-intensive effort, and perhaps hard to understand with the loud wheezing and all.

Keir happened to be in a spot where I could see around Buster. He looked profoundly confused. After clearing his throat, he asked carefully, “What thing?”

It had to be a lie that my heart wasn’t beating because I knew my pulse had to be speeding toward one hundred.

“Can’t. You See. It?”

Keir glanced at the others. By my last count there were four other people in the room. Keir, Evie, Max, and Killian. I couldn’t see them, but imagined them to be exchanging looks. If they couldn’t see Buster, they would think I was insane.

That begged the question. Was I?

“Magistrate.” Max’s voice was unmistakable.

“Yes. Max,” I responded.

“What should we be seeing?”

“Mon. Ster. On. My. Chest.”

“There’s a monster on your chest?” Max asked in a clinical tone without the slightest hint of surprise of incredulity.

“Yesssss. Get. It. Off. Me.”

“We’re working on it,” Keir said. He rubbed my arm up and down in a comforting way and I was grateful for any comfort I could get. “First, we have to figure out how we can see what you see.” Keir looked into Max’s eyes. “Right?”

Max gave a single sharp nod. “Of course.” That was followed with a jerk of his head toward the door in the universal gesture of, “Meet me outside. We need to talk.”

Keir rose and silently followed Max out into the hall. As soon as they emerged from the bedroom, a hush fell over the crowd milling about the house. It was evident that there’d be no privacy there.

“This way.” Keir led Max to the greenhouse atrium. There were a few people admiring the fiddle leaf figs and orchids. “We need the room.” Keir used his commanding voice so that the tourists would know it was more than a suggestion.

Once they were alone, they drifted to the far end of the building where even sensitive magic kind ears would be hard pressed to eavesdrop.

Keir waited semi-patiently for Max to reveal his thoughts.

“You know I respect the magistrate. You might even say I admire her. That’s why it’s especially disappointing that I can’t be of more help.” Keir sighed and put his hands in his jeans pockets. “Right now I think the best I can do is recommend calling on the most powerful person she knows.”

“You don’t think she’s round the bend.”

“You mean crazy. No. I don’t think so. I suppose we should leave room for the possibility, but my intuition says that’s not the problem.”

“The most powerful person she knows,” he repeated.

Max rocked back and forth waiting for Keir to say what Max was thinking. When he didn’t, Max ventured, “That would be the Norse god.”

“Loki?” Keir sounded aghast. “Contact Loki voluntarily?”

“Oddly, he seems to have a particular fondness for the magistrate.” Seeing the look on Keir’s face, Max hurried to add, “I don’t mean it’s odd that someone would be fond of the magistrate. I mean to say that Loki isn’t famous for forming bonds of any kind with anyone.”

“I wouldn’t say they’ve formed a bond,” Keir replied.

“A peculiar friendship if you like.”

In the interest of being discriminating when picking battles, Keir decided to concede. “Alright. Assuming we can locate Loki, and assuming he agrees to come, what do you think he might do?”

“At the least, he could close the door on possible madness. At the most, he’ll understand the problem and be the solution.”

“Are you pretty sure that’s the best we can do?”

Max blew out a breath. “I want her back, too. She’s the best thing to ever happen to our world.”

Keir looked at Max with renewed interest. “I’m trying to think if a higher compliment might be paid and nothing’s coming to mind.”

Max smiled. “No surprise though. She’s turned things upside down.” His smile faded. “But just as she’s been a marvel for the Bureau, she’s also rankled.”

“Flipside.”

“Indeed.”

“And you think that’s what this is?”

“Occurred to me. Yes.”

Keir nodded solemnly. “Thanks for coming.”

“I expect more than thanks. I expect to be kept informed of developments.”

“Alright.”

“Good or bad.”

Keir acknowledged that with a tiny head bow. And Max was gone.

Half a dozen souls waited on the other side of the glass atrium door, hoping to learn what had passed between Maxfield Pteron and the sephalian.

“No,” Keir said, as they made way for him to pass. “Nothing to tell.”

Keir stopped in his lair to pour a triple whiskey on his way back to the master bedroom. As he downed the bronze-colored liquid, he looked for the upside. At least she was able to speak and tell them the matter, even if it made no sense.

While Keir was gone, Evie and Killian kept me company with quiet conversation about her pregnancy and the likelihood of a pet dragon. Evie probably thought it would be best for me to hear calm voices talking about everyday thing; everyday to magic kind, that is. But Keir’s absence was felt and I longed to know what was being said out of earshot.

When Keir returned I could see Evie turn around and imagined her with an expression of hopeful expectation.

“Killian,” he said, “thank you for keeping Evie company.”

Killian took that as a request to go and left the room without another word.

Keir reclaimed his chair on the side of the bed opposite Evie.

“News?” she asked.

“Max is a great admirer of your mother’s. He says she’s the best thing to ever happen to our world.”

Wow. He said that? Really?

“Wow.”

“Indeed.”

“What else?”

“He doesn’t have any more tricks, but recommended contacting Loki.”

Loki??!!??? No. No. No. No. Hell to the no and then some. Tell me you said no.

“I said we’d try to find a way to reach him,” Keir told Evie.

“Noooooo,” I wheezed.

Keir turned to me. “No?”

“Noooooo,” I repeated.

After a lengthy pause, Keir said, “Unfortunately we don’t have other options.”

There was no telling what Loki would do with this situation. I could end up a permanent fixture on his Mediterranean patio. He could hold me hostage as his permanent life coach. Or worse. Maybe if I’d told Keir the details of what happened when he stole me from my dreams, he wouldn’t be so eager to open the door to the ultimate cray cray. But I didn’t. And now this.

“Just so happens I have a way,” Evie said. “So long as Diarmuid is leader of the Wild Hunt he has demigod privileges, which includes hobnobbing with gods. He could ask Loki to come.”

“Nooooooo.” I was a broken record, a one-trick pony, a sound bite on loop.

“That’s a lucky break,” Keir said. “Or at least it could be.”

“Why does Max think Loki is the way to go?” she asked.

“He says Loki would be able to confirm or deny what she sees.”

Oh? Well, maybe it’s worth the risk if he can do something about Buster.

“Yessss,” I said.

Keir looked at Evie. “That settles it.”

Evie stood. “Be right back.”

CHAPTER SIX Emissary

Loki didn’t knock or ring the bell. He wouldn’t have thought that sort of social ritual applied to him because, after all, he was Loki, walking entitlement. He did, however, do the household the courtesy of appearing at the front door and walking through it. In Loki terms, it was a concession.

A hush immediately fell over my guests, comprised of much of the population of Hallow Hill. He paid no attention to them as he strode past like he knew the way to the bedroom. I suppose he did know the way to the bedroom since he’d once snatched me from my sleep and once appeared in my closet to interrupt wedding preparations.

He opened the door and sauntered in casually. After a glance toward Keir and Evie, he focused on me.

“Did you know there’s a phi am on your chest?”

I would have leapt for joy if I could. I would have wept for joy if I could. Finally, somebody else could see Buster and certify that I am not certifiable.

“Hiiiii,” I said. It would be pointless to answer the question, yes, I did know there is a something on my chest. Duh.

Meanwhile, Buster, who up to that time had not indicated a care toward anything but my misery, suddenly perked up and became very interested in the newcomer. He turned around to face Loki, which meant that my view had changed from ugliest puss imaginable to hairy back. I was grateful for small favors.”

“Hi,” he replied. “What’s wrong with your voice?”

“She’s paralyzed,” Evie said. “The Sandman was able to do something that allows her to speak.” After a brief pause, she added, “Sort of.”

Loki cocked his head. “Huh.”

“What did you say this is?” Keir asked.

Without looking his way, Loki said, “It’s a phi am. This one is somebody’s pet. Did you do something to piss of an Eastern mystic?” Air escaped from my mouth, but no sound. “Let me see if I can improve on that.”

He leaned past Evie, put his hand around my throat, then straightened and stepped back. “There. Try that.”

“I…” Just a single word told me he’d wrought a miracle. My voice was back. “Thank you, Loki. It’s a relief to be able to speak. It’s also a relief to have someone else be able to see this ugly thing.”

At that Buster turned his head partway over his shoulder as if to let me know he heard that and didn’t like it. Too bad.

“It weighs a ton and it’s face is a nightmare. Well, I don’t have to look at it right now because it turned the other way to look at you.” I said. “Can you get it off me?”

Loki sighed. “Unfortunately, no. I mean I could. Of course. But there are two problems. First, its removal might cause damage.”

“To Rita?” Keir asked.

Loki turned toward my sephalian and answered with an unwarranted disdain. “Yes. To Rita.”

“Mom,” Evie said, “your eyes are closed. How do you know what the creature looks like?”

“I can see,” I replied simply. “Well, let me qualify that. I can see narrow swaths around the obstacle, but since I can’t turn my head that’s means pretty limited vision.”

“What does it look like?” she asked.

“Two feet tall. Dark hairy coat. Smushed face. Bulging eyes. Short legs. Long arms. And he’s heavy. So heavy.”

“I’m almost sorry I asked.” She turned to Loki. “We’ve got to get this thing off her.”

“So noted,” Loki nodded.

“Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?” Evie asked.

“Give me some hope that this isn’t my life,” I said.

Evie turned toward Loki. “Just curious. What was that second thing? The other reason why you can’t get rid of it right now?”

“Interfering with Eastern magic would violate a treaty,” he said matter-of-factly.

I was dumbfounded. “There are rules about that?” And even more astounding, “And you abide by them?”

He shrugged. “Surprising. I know. But crossing magical borders invites the kind of trouble that even I wouldn’t enjoy.”

“Is Lochlan here?” I asked.

“Yeah. In the other room,” Evie answered.

“Would you get him in here? Somebody needs to document all this for the magistrate journals.”

“But if we bring him in and don’t ask Maggie, there’s going to be a political incident,” Evie warned.

“Tell her it’s legal business,” I said.

She nodded and stepped out.

“Keir,” I said, “does this sound true?”

“It does. The treaty has worked so well that magical border crossings have been quite rare. Almost unheard of really.”

“Keyword is ‘almost’. Is that what we’re calling this? A magical border crossing?” I asked.

Evie returned with Lochlan in time to catch the end of that thread. “What should we call it, Mom?”

“I call it Buster.”

My daughter was caught in one of those moments when she wasn’t sure she should laugh at something hysterical because it could be a grossly inappropriate thing to do. Mirth won out, but she did manage to dial it down to a mere chuckle.

“Buster,” she repeated. “You are one of a kind.”

“I concur,” Keir said.

“Can we set foreign diplomacy aside for now and talk about options?” To Lochlan Evie said, “In review, for the sake of magistrate journal documentation, there’s an Asian creature sitting on Mom’s chest. She says it’s hideous and weighs a ton. It’s somebody’s pet. Loki could get rid of the accursed thing, but he won’t because he’s scared of breaking a rule.”

Loki gaped. “Who do you think you are, young queen? It will do you no good to be deliberately provocative with me!” he protested “It’s not just any rule and clearly beyond your understanding.”

“Well, clearly the person who sent this thing wasn’t worried about treaty violation.” Loki frowned at that and seemed to be considering. “Whatever,” Evie continued. “Anyone got a suggestion for Plan B?”

“If we knew who was responsible…” Loke trailed off.

“I do know,” Lochlan piped up. Everyone turned to stare at my clerk.

“You know who did this?” Evie asked.

“Almost certainly,” he said.

“There’s that word ‘almost’ again.” I’ve never been comfortable playing the role of skeptic, but circumstances were suppressing my usual buoyant perspective.

“Tell us what you know,” Evie said.

Lochlan turned to me. “Rita. Do you remember reviewing a potential case for the Imbolc Court that involved a Chinese witch’s daughter? It was an appeal for justice. A heartbreak at the hands of a fae if I remember.”

“I do remember that.”

“You had me include a note in the rejection to the effect that broken hearts are terribly unpleasant, but all save a few have a story to tell. We can’t litigate love.”

“I wrote that?” I asked with pride.

“Technically I wrote it,” Lochlan said. “You conveyed an idea, I worded it as diplomatically as I could.”

“Good job.”

“Wouldn’t she have to get a special dispensation to bring a suit to us?” Keir asked.

“Yes,” Lochlan replied. “It fell to us because the defendant was under our jurisdiction. The papers were in order, but the magistrate declined to hear the case. Of course, it’s not up to me to offer an opinion about Rita’s legal conclusions, but it so happens I agreed with her. She gave me verbal notes on her reasons and I wrote the letter of rejection. As tactfully as my skill allows. She’s the likely culprit.”

“A witch, you say?” Loki asked.

“Yes,” Lochlan replied.

“Fae or human?”

“Human.”

“That would explain why she might venture to violate the treaty. She’s not a god. Not even fae. Just a talented practitioner of magic. But she would fall under the control of those who are bound by the treaty.”

“Is this something we can use?” Evie asked.

Loki leveled a look at her. It would be quite some time before he forgot either Evie’s insults or her insolent tone. “It’s something I can use. Yes.”

“Do I feel good about this?” I asked. “Or am I justifiably paranoid about the prospect of relying on Loki?”

Loki smiled. “Don’t be silly. You can count on me, Coach.”

“Oh gods,” I moaned.

Killian poked his head in. “Can I come back in? The suspense is killing me.”

“Yes,” Keir said, “but only if you stay quiet. You’re an observer, not a committee member.”

When Killian entered, Kagan followed. He closed the door quietly and sat on the Queen Anne chair by the Eros statue while Kagan chose to stand aside, probably wishing he could be invisible.

After a brief soft knock, Maggie opened the door just wide enough to squeeze through and closed it softly. Seeing that everyone was staring, she said, “If Lochlan and all these sephalians can be here, then certainly I, as her closest friend, should be by her side.”

Lochlan opened his mouth, but Evie held up a hand to stop him before he could get started. “What’s the plan?” she asked Loki, restating using a different approach.

“First, I’m going to send one of the Valkyries to formally request a meeting with the Eastern Council. I’m required to do that before I seek out the real solution.”

“What’s that?” Keir asked.

“Sam Wukong.”

“The Monkey King?” Keir sounded intrigued.

Loki looked toward Keir. “He doesn’t like to be called that.”

“I can see why,” Killian said.

When Keir gave his brother of look of censure, Killian held up his palms then made a lip zipping gesture.

Loki went on. “I’ll extend an invitation to meet privately and negotiate. He’s always up for a challenging bit of bargaining.”

“I admit that I’m no authority,” Keir said, “but my understanding is that nobody trusts this, ah, Sam Wukong.”

“And right they would be in their exercise of constant caution,” Loki said cheerfully. “But Sam and I have an understanding. I won’t take more advantage of him than he’ll allow and vice versa.”

“Honor among thieves?” Killian asked.

Keir jerked his head toward Killian in warning and Killian repeated the palms up gesture with wide eyes like, “Who? Me?”

Loki stared at Killian for a few beats. “It’s disconcerting. The three of you being identical.”

“We’re no’ identical,” Kagan volunteered what would pass for a rant coming from him.

“Right,” Loki replied. “What I really need to know, if I’m to be the arbiter in charge, is this. What are you willing to give to get the phi am to go away and leave Rita alone?”

Lochlan cleared his throat. “As the magistrate’s solicitor, I’m empowered to speak on her behalf when she’s incapacitated.”

“That is bull dung,” Keir said. “I’m her husband. I speak for her when she’s incapacitated.”

“I can see why you’d think so,” Lochlan said in a pacifying tone. “However, I have a prior claim.”

Keir’s nostrils flared as he stood up.

“Uh oh,” Killian said.

“Shut up!” Keir half-yelled at Killian before turning back to Lochlan. “As Rita’s husband and protector, I reject your prior claim.”

“Let’s stay on topic, shall we gentlemen?” Maggie put in. To Loki, she said, “What will it take?” After a brief pause during which she remembered that she was addressing a god, she added, “Sir,” with a curtsy.

Loki gave Maggie a smile that said he accepted the homage in the spirit given.

“It’s hard to know what Sam might want. It’s a what-to-give-the-person-who-has-everything sort of problem. I’m familiar with it because people say the same about me. You can be sure that it will be something unusual.”

“Can you find out what he wants, take a brief leave, and discuss it with us?” Keir asked.

Loki clapped his hands together. “Yes. A good plan. I will return when I have an answer.”’

Loki had already disappeared as Keir was saying, “When will that…?”

=

CHAPTER SEVEN The Monkey King

Like all the most powerful gods, the Monkey King was not born, but sprang into being at the whim of the ultimate authority, Nature. The story goes that he came forth a fully formed monkey as a storm wind blew across a magical rock. His name, Sam Wukong, literally means awakened from emptiness.

During his reign as king of the forest monkeys he came to be known as a formidable demon and warrior. Before Death came for him, Sam Wukong had devised a plan to escape. He tricked Death into allowing him to return to earth without reincarnation and managed to erase his name from the Book of Life and Death on his way.

On discovering this, Death was afraid that universal balance had been upset and appealed to the Jade Emperor.

After hearing about Sam Wukong’s exploits, the Jade Emperor concluded that the easiest way to deal with the monkey would be to let him live in Heaven with the other gods. Wukong eagerly accepted the invitation, said goodbye to his earthly friends, and set off for the Jade Palace.

Once he arrived, he was given the lowliest task in the heavens; guarding the Jade Emperor’s horses. When he realized that the other gods didn’t welcome him as a peer, he became obsessed with the idea of immortality.

One day he accidentally happened on a party for the Jade Emperor’s wife. Not only had he been deliberately snubbed, but the other gods laughed him out of the hall.

In response he declared himself to be the Great Sage Equal to Heaven and made an enormous banner to taunt the emperor. The Jade Emperor sent a battalion of soldiers to arrest Wukong for insolence, but he singlehandedly defeated them all.

That mighty victory forced the Jade Emperor to acknowledge Wukong so he promoted him to guard the Peaches of Immortality. Seeing this as another insult, the defiant Monkey King ate all the peaches.

This time the Jade Emperor sent two battalions of soldiers. Once again, Wukong defeated them all.

The Jade Emperor appealed to Buddha to intervene. Buddha sided with the Jade Emperor and pinned the Monkey King under a mountain for five hundred years.

He was freed by Tang Sanzang, a human seeker of spiritual truths, on the promise that he become a disciple of Tang Sanzang’s. Sam accepted the terms, was true to his word, and did become enlightened.

It was no mystery as to why Loki and the Monkey King were friends. They related to each other in a number of ways. Most significantly, both were looked down upon by the other gods in their respective courts. Naturally, god nature being very similar to human nature, they became ‘trickster’ gods to get back at the others, but found that fun was an unexpected benefit.

In the very distant past, Loki had deliberately sought out Wukong. He’d been temporarily banished from Odin’s court simply because everyone other than Loki was exhausted from his antics.

Loki had heard about the Monkey King and was intrigued. He wasn’t sure if Sam Wukong was fact or fiction and the only way to find out was to go in search of him. He earned the meeting by meeting the challenge of misdirection, which was done numerous times. Eastern gods are suspicious of western gods and think they’re always up to no good. So everyone who encountered Loki, sent him on a wild goose chase; not because they wanted to protect Sam Wukong, but because they couldn’t miss an opportunity to mess with a pilgrim from Valhalla.

When Loki finally figured out that he was being played, he grabbed a smirking demigod by the throat with his spiked glove and shook the bastard until he gave up Sam’s location.

Recounting that story to Sam at a later time gave them both a good laugh.

Loki found Sam sitting in a contemplative pose, much like the famous statue of The Thinker.

“What kind of game is this?” Loki said. It was an off-the-wall self-introduction even for one as eccentric as he.

Sam looked up to see where the unfamiliar voice and demanding tone originated. “Who are you?”

“Loki.”

Sam nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of you?”

“Yes? I’ve heard you’re good to have around when things get too quiet.”

Sam chuckled. “True enough. I used to be that way.”

“Used to be?”

“If you’ve heard of me, you surely must have heard that I’ve been enlightened. You might say I’ve reformed and now wear the cloak of humility.”

“Why?” Loki’s question and tone said he was utterly dumbfounded.

“The story is too long and the subject is too complicated for casual conversation.”

“I’m immortal. I have time.”

Sam laughed. “What really brings you across the heavens to see me.”

Loki shrugged. “Temporary exile.” He looked at Sam sideways. “Again.” Loki threw himself onto a pillow. “I like to ease right up to my peers’ line of tolerance.” He smiled. “Push as far as I can, you know?” Sam’s only answer was a twinkle in his eye. “Sometimes I accidentally cross that line and all hel breaks loose.”

Sam shook his head and chuckled. “I’ve been there, Brother.”

Loki’s heart warmed when he heard the affection in the term ‘brother’. It seemed that he and Sam were friends at first sight, recognizing in each other traits and experience that few, if any, others could understand.

“So,” Sam said, “you’re saying you were kicked out of heaven and you decided to look for me because you’re bored.” It was clear that Loki was thinking over whether he should answer truthfully or not. After a few beats, Sam said, “Asked and answered by lengthy silence. No matter. I’m glad to make your acquaintance even if not for the most flattering reasons.”

“What would be flattering reasons?”

“That you were curious because you heard about my conquests of war, or my rebellion against heaven, or my travels, or my magical tools.”

“All that is true. I have heard something about all those things though I admit to being most interested in your rebellion against heaven. So you say you’ve heard about me?”

“I have. Nothing good.”

With a laugh, Loki said, “In that case, my reputation is secure and intact.”

Sam grinned at that. “What can I do for you, son of Odin? Can I teach you humility?”

“Now I know you are a true trickster, Sam Wukong. You must know that humility is a trait to which I do not aspire.”

“I suspected as much. So how can I be of service?”

Loki shrugged. “I hadn’t expected more than to pass the time.”

“The time of your exile?”

“Well…”

Sam stood. “Come. I will show you the court of the Jade Emperor.”

Loki hadn’t expected that sort of welcome. “That’s more than I hoped for.”

Sam spent many months giving Loki a tour of heaven and became fast friends with Loki as the journey progressed. The end coincided almost exactly with the conclusion of Loki’s sentence in exile.

The two parted as allies with a pledge to come to the aid of the other whenever, however, it might be required. Loki also promised to return the favor and sneak the Monkey King across the Rainbow Bridge. He didn’t think Asgard would choose to ignore Sam as the Emperor’s court had done him, but he had a plan. Since Sam was able to transform himself into anything, Loki would take him in wearing the guise of someone who was away from court.

It was a trick, but a harmless one.

Loki gave Sam a vision of Gunnar Hamundarson so that he could borrow his visage while he was away. Loki picked Gunnar not because he was the greatest swordsman of all the fallen heroes, but because he was quiet and introspective almost to the point of being reclusive. Residents of Valhalla wouldn’t bother to try and engage with Gunnar.

The tour of Asgard was something Sam would never forget because nothing is more valuable to an immortal than a new experience. He often recalled the sights and sounds of the strange, alien world; giant eagles soaring near a ceiling covered with the shields of fallen heroes, fearsome wolves on perpetual patrol, Valkyries whose beauty stood in stark contrast to their somewhat bloodthirsty natures.

The experience was drastically different from the Jade Emperor’s palace in heaven, in some ways completely opposite. While the clamor of battle, and loud song fueled by potent ale was constant at Valhalla, the Jade Palace sought the soothing sounds of quiet birdsong and gentle waterfall.

If Sam had traveled there prior to his enlightenment, he might have felt right at home. In any case, the trip cemented an unbreakable friendship between the two. What Sam asked for, in exchange for getting rid of the phi am, was a tour of faerie.

“Which one?” Loki asked.

“Which one would I like best?” Sam asked in return.

If Loki had been someone else, he might’ve been uncomfortable with making a choice for another. But Loki rarely experienced discomfort. He’d choose one and, if Sam didn’t like it, tough cookies.

“Scandinavia. After the magistrate has been restored to perfect health and the phi am has been dealt with.”

“Done,” Sam said and slapped hands with Loki.

“Oh. A gallery! I’ll bet the ghost loves it,” said the newly arrived guest as he followed Loki into my bedroom with a memorable swagger and surveyed the crowd of onlookers. It could only be Sam Wukong looking like a clone of Bruce Lee in his prime.

Evie scanned the room full of concerned faces. The ‘gallery’ included an elf, three sephalians, a fae witch, a banshee, two brownies, a Lorcan, an Italian fae queen, the Irish king and queen, two pixies, a wind djin, a vampire, and two gods.

“Her gift for unusual relationships has blossomed since she came to Hallow Hill,” Evie said. “But this is one she doesn’t want.”

Sam Wukong looked Evie up and down with a slight smirk.

“No,” Loki shook his head vigorously. “Off limits.”

Sam’s head swiveled to Loki. “Why? She’s Irish, right? Fair game.”

“Not. This. One.” Loki sounded stern enough to make Sam pay attention.

“Why?” Sam pressed, curiosity being an inherent monkey trait.

“Because she’s my life coach’s daughter.”

Sam stared at Loki for a few beats then burst into laughter. “You do not have a life coach.” Loki nodded. “A human life coach?”

“I do. And you’re not in any position to make fun of me. You had a human life coach centuries ago.” Loki looked down his nose at Sam. “And it changed your life, didn’t it?”

“Well…” Sam said.

“Exactly,” Loki replied.

Sam Wukong leaned toward me. “Did you know you have a phi am on your chest?”

“Did you know you look exactly like Bruce Lee?” I replied with a question every bit as obvious as the one he’d asked me.

With a smile both charming and disarming, he said, “By design. He’s a fan of mine. You’re a fan of his. Win. Win.”

“Right. Can you get this thing off me?”

“Probably. If it was physical, I’d just tear it limb from limb and let Pekinese eat the pieces.”

Putting aside the gruesome visual, I said, “What do you mean? It is physical. It’s like a half ton anvil on my chest.”

“That’s what you feel,” he said. “But to the rest of us, it’s a projection. The magic is kind of impressive for a mortal, really. Not just any witch could manage it.”

“Did you call it a ghost?” Evie asked.

Sam shrugged. “It’s a word as good as another.”

“I can’t move,” I said.

“I know,” said Sam. “What color are your eyes?”

Loki released an undefinable sound of exasperation. “If I said no to the daughter, that goes a hundred times over for the mother. No means no.”

“Alright,” Sam said, “keep your shirt on.”

“My shirt is firmly in place. Yours had better be, too,” Loki said.

Sam chuckled. “You sound more like your dad all the time.”

Without warning, Loki leapt at Sam and pulled him to the floor in a headlock. The two gods wrestled like pubescent boys while a dozen and a half townspeople watched with rapt fascination.

Evie began to rise from her chair, but Diarmuid grabbed her and forced her back down. “Best leave them to it,” he whispered.

She stared at her husband, open-mouthed, but did as he suggested. After all, she was still learning her way around their world.

When Sam ended up straddling Loki and yelling in triumph, Loki said, “If you embarrass me in front of my people, I will steal the cloud-walking boots.”

“You wouldn’t,” Sam said, but something in Loki’s face informed him otherwise. Sam flopped onto his back and said, “Uncle. Uncle. Uncle. The mighty Loki has bested me.” He said the words but couldn’t suppress laughter because the idea of losing a fight with Loki truly was absurd.

Loki offered his hand to help Sam to his feet and, with that, the demonstration of supreme immaturity ended as quickly as it began.

Sam returned to stand over Rita’s lifeless body. “Do we need all these people in here?”

“No. We do not,” Keir said simply. “Everybody out except for Evie and Lochlan.” Diarmuid caught Keir’s eye and raised a brow. “And the magistrate’s son-in-law of course.”

Maggie huffed as she went by. Evie said, “Lochlan is here in the capacity of clerk, Maggie. Nothing more.”

“Are Maggie and Lochlan at it again about who’s closest to me?” I said.

“Again?” Evie asked. “Does that mean there was a spirit in the midst of this inane behavior?

I wanted to chuckle, but my lungs wouldn’t let me. I was limited to speech.

“The Chinese witch,” Sam said, “where did you send that letter?”

“I don’t recall,” said Lochlan. “But there’s a copy of that record in the magistrate’s study. If you’ll excuse me for a second?”

“I’ll be here,” Sam said. “So you’re the daughter.” He looked at Evie.

She nodded. “And this is my husband, the king of Irish fae, leader of the Wild Hunt, aka the D’anu.”

Sam nodded at Diarmuid. “Sounds proud of you. I guess that makes you lucky in love.”

“Well, aye. Could no’ argue that,” Diarmuid replied.

Sam looked at Keir. “And you’re…?”

“I’m the magistrate’s husband.”

“And the court enforcer,” added Evie. “He also has the singular honor of being the only individual to ever fill in as leader of the Wild Hunt…”

“Evie,” Keir interrupted, “thank you.” To Sam, he said, “The operative word in all that is ‘husband’.”

Sam nodded. And the helpful fellow who’ll be delivering the witch’s address?”

Evie said, “He’s the magistrate’s neighbor, solicitor, and court clerk.”

“I don’t want to sound hyperbolic, but I’m the victim of a heinous magical revenge. Please. Find me an exorcist or exterminator or whoever can get the job done.”

I heard the sounds of conversation from other rooms when the door opened to readmit Lochlan.

“Here it is.” He handed a slip of parchment to Sam Wukong.

“Yunnan,” Sam said. “Figures.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“It’s a region that’s home to a powerful vortex. Witches are drawn to it.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll pay her a visit and see if we can come to terms,” he said.

“Thank you.” I’d never been so sincere in my gratitude, but… “Forgive me for pressing, but what if you can’t, um, come to terms?”

He sighed. “Than somebody will have to make a hard decision.”

“Will that somebody be you?”

“Since this has landed at the foot of my tree… Yes.”

“I…”

“Allow me to guess,” he said. “And it’s not hard. Humans always want to know the same thing. How long? Right?”

“Yes. How long?”

“I will give the witch a day to see reason and recall the phi am. If she refuses, I will take care of it myself.”

“So. A day?”

He chuckled. “More or less.”

“A day.”

“Bargaining with me, Magistrate?” He laughed. “Have to admire the confidence.”

“It’s not confidence. It’s extreme discomfort.”

Being a god, Sam Wukong couldn’t really grasp the meaning of extreme discomfort. Few immortals ever have the opportunity to learn what that means, the Irish fae king being a living exception.

“I understand,” said Sam Wukong.

“Keir. Does he understand?” I asked.

“No,” Keir said simply.

“What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you?” The question was directed at Sam Wukong.

After a lengthy pause, he said, “Humiliation at court.”

“Yes. That would be a different form of extreme discomfort. Maybe you do understand.”

He gave the phi am a long look before he disappeared. Buster reacted to that by looking over his shoulder at me, his mouth turned even further downward than usual, and I could swear to the gods he grew even heavier.

“Alrighty then,” Loki said. “Glad to be of service. Got god stuff to do. I’ll check in tomorrow to make sure our girl is back in business.”

“Thank you for your help, Loki,” I said.

“No thanks necessary. Consider it an extra-large favor, one that I will collect on someday.”

“You sound like the Godfather.”

“What?”

“Ask the Valkyries.”

He disappeared.

“He’s gone,” Evie said.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Evie said, “Would you like us to turn on the news? Or we could play your recording of that opera.”

“The Ring Series.”

“Yeah.”

“I couldn’t enjoy it without reading the subtitles.”

“I could teach you German,” she said brightly.

“Not enough breath to learn a foreign language right now.”

“Right, then. News? Reruns of American Idol? Name it.”

“News would just depress me more. Can you find some ancient reruns of Oprah? Like a greatest hits collection?”

“I’m Queen of Irish Fae. There’s little I can’t do.”

I wished I could smile.

CHAPTER EIGHT  The Buster Ban

I wish I could say that I thoroughly enjoyed listening to a dozen episodes of Oprah that I’d never seen, but Buster blocking my view was a constant reminder that I needed to remain set in endure mode; something akin to having an MRI.

I take a small bit of pride in the fact that I didn’t complain more than I already had. After all, there was nothing more for Keir and Evie to do. They shared the waiting with me and there was comfort in not being alone. Evie supplied a near-constant commentary on Oprah that would’ve greatly enhanced the entertainment factor under any other circumstances.

I wouldn’t wish being paralyzed on anyone. I learned that the body you’ve always counted on and taken for granted can also be a tomb. My muscles weren’t receiving any directions from my brain. At least I wasn’t feeling aches, pains, or itches. Just a near unbearable-weight. The monster may have been small, but this was a case of looks being woefully deceiving.

Though I’d never paid attention to it, I missed the simple involuntary activity of breathing in and out. I missed those little aches, pains, and itches. I missed being able to wiggle my toes. I missed being hungry or thirsty. I even missed a forced acknowledgement of a full bladder.

I may have dozed off and on. I asked Evie to keep the Oprah episodes running. Keir brought in a reclining chair from the lair so that he could sleep without moving my body. There wasn’t consensus on whether or not my body could be moved without harm, but there was consensus on not taking the chance. Thankfully, Keir was the sort who could sleep in an active-fire foxhole.

Buster didn’t give the impression that he was subject to any bodily needs. He had a job to do and he did it without coffee breaks, bathroom breaks, naps, or lunch. He just sat and stared.

I resolved that when I was rid of him, I would burn the nightshirt I was wearing and take a thousand hot baths. All in a row.

Late in the afternoon, Sam Wukong arrived at my bedside. By that I mean, he, as Bruce Lee, just appeared.

If I could’ve moved, I would have jumped. Unlike all the other people in the house, I’m still subject to being startled.

If there was immediate good news it was that Buster turned around so that he was facing the Monkey King. He evidently did not like having gods at his back.

Sam looked at Evie, Keir, and Lochlan and said, “Is there another place to talk?”

Uh oh.

“Oh no you don’t,” I protested. “You’re not going to clear the room, talk about my predicament, and leave me out of it like I’m a child.”

By the time I’d finished my mini rant, everyone had filed out except Sam. “We’ll be back,” he said then closed the door behind him.

For the first time I was left alone with Buster.

For the first time I spoke to him directly.

“How does it feel to be utterly loathed? Huh?”

Other than a slight twitch of one tiny ear, as if my speech irritated him, there was no response. No problema. None was expected.

I can’t say how long my watchers were out of the room. Probably not long. And I was relieved when I was once again surrounded by people who cared about me.

“Rita,” Keir began, “there’s going to be a bit of a delay because of an unanticipated wrinkle.”

Why can’t I sigh? Deep and long and low.

“If there wasn’t a wrinkle, I’d know I was dreaming. Hit me.”

“No,” Sam sounded angry. “You will not hit a helpless woman even if she tells you to.”

I couldn’t see faces, but I imagined the look Keir and Evie were giving Sam Wukong.

“It’s, um, just an expression that means tell her everything: the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

I’d doubted that my kid would make a good teacher. Maybe I was wrong about that.

“Ah,” said Sam.

“Mom, the witch who sicced the phi am on you is dead.”

“That’s a shame,” Lochlan said. “You could have sued the witch for violation of the treaty.”

I had nothing to say that.

Sam continued. “If the ghost is pried away from you, it will be rudderless and without supervision. It could cause a lot of trouble.”

“Oh gods,” I said, before realizing how stupid it was to call on gods when one was standing next to me. “Is this my life then?”

“No,” Sam said. “I just have to find somebody to take him.”

“I’m not an expert on your history,” I said, “but I wouldn’t have expected you to be so responsible. Toward humans especially.”

“I know the rumor is that gods are self-centered, avaricious, and sometimes vicious. But some of us take our positions seriously.”

“The Enlightenment?”

“Just so.”

Sam Wukong and I said, “How long?” in unision.

“This is not funny,” I said.

“Yes. I know. I apologize. I have people looking for a suitable place to rehome the fiend.”

“Fiend? This is the first time anybody has called Buster a fiend.” Did I sound alarmed? I should sound alarmed because I was.

“You called him a monster,” Evie said.

“Yes,” I answered, “but don’t you have to add a pound of evil spirit and a dollop of demon to get a fiend?”

“Since you want perfect honesty, yes,” Sam said. “The phi am is a monster and a ghost. After experiencing his stare, would you say there is a resident evil spirit?”

“I would say that. Yes.”

“I don’t know about demon,” Sam said. “Semantics and shaved nuances. Isn’t it irrelevant?”

“My mind says yes. My gut says no.”

“Your gut isn’t saying anything,” Sam said. “It’s on holiday.”

“Sam!” Evie protested. “Try to be a little more tactful.”

“What’s tactful about bad and ugly?” Sam asked.

“He makes a good point,” I said.

“Just hold on. The cavalry is coming,” Sam said. When no one answered, he added, “Did I use that wrong? About the cavalry coming?”

“No,” Keir said. “It was exactly right.”

“Is there any chance you won’t find somebody to take it off my, um, chest?” I asked.

Bruce Lee’s face came into view. He smiled. “No. People will be clamoring to get the phi am. It’s a very powerful tool.”

“I’ll bet.”

“It must go to a xian though. It’s too dangerous to leave such a creature with humans. You know, since they die.” Sam sounded thoughtful.

“But you won’t have trouble finding a xian quickly who wants Buster?”

“If you were willing to extend his stay, we could hold a lottery. Make you rich beyond your wildest dreams,” Sam said.

“I’m already rich beyond my wildest dreams,” I answered.

Sam looked around skeptically. “Really?”

I suppose that by Jade Palace standards my house must’ve seemed pretty humble. My perspective is that wealth can’t be measured in terms of material stuff. But when it comes to wealth…

“Have you seen her car?” Keir asked.

From my limited vantage point, I saw Sam’s interest spike. Apparently, car love is literally universal. It rises past earth dimensions and penetrates the heavens.

After six more reruns of Oprah, Sam returned with an Asian woman whose looks were so striking I knew she couldn’t be human. Her hair was long and thick, so dark that it caught every reflection of light and appeared almost blue from some angles. She wore red silk with lipstick the same color. Both made her dark almond eyes pop in the exaggerated way of animated characters.

She glanced at me, but immediately focused on Buster and began speaking to him in Chinese. With seconds Buster vanished. He was gone, history, rehomed to…

“This is Na Zhing,” Sam said. “She’s the phi am’s new caretaker.”

I would’ve liked to say hello, but my lungs were desperately busy dragging in air while I made most unladylike noises. I suppose the fact that my eyes were bulging gave me a panicked look. Keir was immediately standing over me looking as pained as I felt.

When my breathing began to regulate, I realized, little by little, that feeling was returning to my body. I was sore as hell from being motionless for days. I use the word ‘sore’ to mean body aches as opposed to anger. Although I probably suffered from a bit of that, too.

Nobody told me the job came with revenge curses. I was going to have a chat with Lochlan about that. Did I need some kind of supernatural security? A god who looked like Bruce Lee would be perfect, but I had no reason to think Sam was job hunting.

“Thank you,” I said. “My voice was a little hoarse, but useable. What a relief!” To Na Zhing, I said, “Hello. Thank you as well.”

“You’re welcome,” she said in perfect English. “Don’t worry about the phi am. I will take good care of him.”

“I wasn’t worried.” I tried out shaking my head as Keir helped me to a sitting position. I imagined that I must have a mega case of bedhead, while she looked like a poster for life-action Mulan. “It would be okay with me if you dropped him off in the nethers and forgot to pick him up.”

Even Na Zhing’s smirk was attractive. “I understand why you say this. But the phi am was just following orders.”

“Uh-huh.”

CHAPTER NINE The Court Must Go On

I was behind on completing the Mabon docket, but the relief I felt in being rid of Buster made everything else seem irrelevant. The world was beautiful. Or at least tolerable.

The morning had passed with me bent over my study table featuring my piling system for the prospective briefs when I heard the strains of “You Can Do Magic”. I called out to Liv, but there was no answer.

Peaking through the front window I saw that none other than the famed Norse trickster god stood on my stoop impatiently tapping his thigh with fingertips. The appeal of staying quiet and ignoring him was heady, but quickly rejected because soon he’d get fed up with waiting and come in without invitation. Or level the house around my ears. It was a coin toss as to which it would be.

I swung the door open. “What?”

I know it was rude. But it was Loki. He’d get over it.

“No points for ringing the chime?” He sounded disappointed, like he’d actually been expecting a prize.

“No.” After the briefest pause, I said, “but you do get points for helping get rid of the, um…”

“Phi am.”

“Right.”

“No thanks needed. You owe me.”

“Great.”

“Good to see you upright and mobile.”

“It’s even better to be upright and mobile. I’m working. And behind. Sooooooo…”

He gaped. “You’re not inviting me in?”

“Sorry. Like I said, I’m working and behind.”

He scoffed then said, “That’s the thanks I get?”

“I thought you didn’t want thanks, just a favor.”

He grinned. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you.” I looked at my watch. “I’ll see you in ten months for your next coaching session.”

When my dogs came through the mudroom dog door and realized we had company (always an occasion), they came bounding past me to greet our guest. They wiggled around Loki’s legs and jumped in the air so that they reached eye level at leap peak.

I loved them dearly, but they were terrible judges of character.

After giving the young fraighounds all due attention, Loki refocused on me with a challenge.

“What about Yule? I’m big on gifts.”

“Since when?”

“Just now.”

“Alright. Come back at Yule. I will have a gift for you.”

“You will?” He brightened.

“Yes. I really do appreciate that you came when Diarmuid asked and that you bargained with the Monkey King to release me from the House of Usher.”

“He doesn’t like to be called that.”

“I heard. I won’t do it when he’s around.”

“Fair enough.” He lit up like he just processed the whole of what had been said. “Magistrate! You love me! I knew it!”

“Too far, Loki. You always go too far.”

“I’ve heard that.” He didn’t seem bothered by either the charge or the admission.

“Okay. Well, I don’t want to shut the door in your face because you did play a big part in returning me to the living and all, but I really do have to work.”

“Okay.”

He began to fade, but I called him back. “Aren’t you going to ask what I want for Yule?”

“No promises. What do you want?”

“I want to go on the Scandinavian faerie tour, too.”

He laughed. “Done. Sam will enjoy having you come along. Maybe I’ll get a tour guide popsicle.”

“Too far.”

He disappeared chuckling.

As I closed the door, I caught myself smiling. Smiling because of Loki? That I could not have.

Since a break had been imposed, I decided to brew a cup of tea before going back to my study. I’d just set the kettle on when Olivia came through the back door laden with bags of supplies. She endured the hound greeting ritual good-naturedly, but her smile fell when she saw that I was trying to take care of myself.

Sliding the bags onto the counter, she said, “Let me do that, Ma… Rita. Sorry I was out.”

“Liv. It’s silly to apologize for being out when I happened to want tea. After all, you were on an errand for the household.” I glanced at the bags. “By the way, you need to count me out for lunch the rest of the week. I’m behind with work.”

“Count you out?” I could tell by the question that the concept sounded foreign.

“Need to keep the nose to the grindstone. I mean I still want to eat lunch. I just can’t do it socially. If you would make me a plate or bowl or whatever before people arrive and bring it to the study?”

“Of course. But who will, ah…”

“Host?” She nodded. “That would be you, I guess.” She paled visibly. “Okay. Scratch that. Pick the most gregarious person in attendance each day and tell them they’re host for a day. They’ll love it.”

Her color returned. “I can do that.”

“I know you can.”

We both looked at the kettle when it blew a pleasant chord.

“What will you have?”

“Earl Grey lavender with bergamot.”

“I’ll bring it to the study?”

With a smile, a nod, and a little rush of anticipation of how good tea was going to be, I returned to the study and the file I’d been reading when Loki had interrupted.

An noblewoman from the House of Sforza was bringing suit against another noblewoman on behalf of her brother who, I gathered, had been turned into a pig. How he communicated who spun the curse would be an interesting question all in itself.

Naturally, I was intrigued. After a lifetime of hearing various males called pigs, the idea of turning one into an actual pig was sort of fascinating. I put the file on the yes pile. No matter what he’d done, nobody deserved to be a pig forever. I put the brief on the yes pile and wondered if the pig would appear in court and if it would be possible to diaper him.

Liv tapped the toe of her boot lightly on the door.

“Come in. That smells heavenly,” I said.

She’d added colorful macaroons to the tray. Gods bless her.

All of a sudden, I felt the unseasonable September chill. “Thank you. Would you light the fire before you go and pull the door closed on your way out?”

“Certainly.”

As Olivia was leaving, I pulled the last brief off the top of the yes stack, and added a post-it; a note to Lochlan to make sure there’d be no manure issues in my court.

A duke from the House of Guivre had given his bride a rare flying horse when they married. A few hundred years later, he’d decided he divorced the lady and reclaimed ownership of the horse. The duchess, also from the House of Guivre, brought suit attesting that the gift was in no way temporary or qualified.

The tea should have made me more alert and able to concentrate, but I was finding that the fire, the warm drink, and the more tedious briefs were making me drowsy. It occurred to me that it might be some sort of lingering bit of needed recovery from the phi am experience, but whatever the cause, I had no time for naps.

I heard a familiar scratching at the door and smiled. My adolescent hounds didn’t like being shut out. It was a welcome intrusion since I needed to get up to keep all systems alert and firing.

They shoved in as soon as the door was partially open, trotted straightaway to the rug in front of the fire and flopped down. Even though Finn and Frey were still quite young, they were devoted to napping.

“You two think you own the place, don’t you?” Both looked up at me. “Well, you don’t own the place, but you certainly have a way of getting your way with things. I’m a sucker for those faces.”

Finn put his head back down on his paws and sighed. Frey cocked her head like she was waiting to see if I’d say anything interesting.

Turning back to the piles, I realized that getting up to let the dogs in had given me a little second wind. I pulled the next brief off the TBD stack and began reading.

Naevia, A fae princess from the House of Howland Horn was thought to be insane by her relatives and the targets of her vandalizing fits. Out of respect for Queen Arantxa, and probably fear as well, the victims of royal rampage went quietly about repairing damage without making much of a fuss. But the siblings, one brother and two sisters, had concluded that something must be done before they faced an uprising in the form of rebellion. Royals have too much power to wield it without the blessing of sound mind.

A long note, written by Lochlan, was stapled to the inside cover. That, in itself, was unusual. My clerk rarely included notes and certainly never anything as long and detailed as the one staring back at me. The extraneous information was this.

The princess, being the youngest of three sisters, was too distant in the line of succession to ever hope to be queen. Apparently, that was a good thing because it was rumored that a strain of madness ran through the Howland Horn family tree and recurred now and then.

The royal heirs are worried about their mother’s policy of ignoring the ways in which Naevia acted out her distress. Their concern for the stability of the monarchy is reasonable and justified in my opinion. Arantxa, on the other hand, probably loves her daughter more than the throne and wants to protect her at any cost. Obviously, the case is tricky.

You can say that again, Lochlan.

Tricky was the understatement of the year.

“J.C. and the Supremes,” I said out loud and slumped back in my chair.

Frey ignored me except for an eye twitch in my direction. Finn continued sleeping. I suspected that when full grown he would snore loudly enough to wake the dead. “What a mess. I could be on my way to another revenge curse.”

I stopped myself from pursuing that in my imagination. I couldn’t start deliberating cases based on fear of reprisal.

I read enough of the brief to understand that an appeal for guardianship of Naevia was being brought by her three siblings. There was no point in reading further. Making it to the yes pile was a slam dunk for Sibs vs. Naevia.

After placing the brief on the pile, I slipped into my mules and walked over to Lochlan’s. As soon as I was heading for the front door, my hounds were up, fully awake, and ready for action.

“Yes. You can come,” I said.

When they saw that I was going across my lane to Lochlan’s they raced ahead, bounded over the stone hedge and ran round the back to see their parents.

Ivy came to the door. “He’s at the office, Rita. Would you like me to call him home.”

“No. I’ll walk over. Can the dogs stay and play while I’m gone?”

“Oh yes. My pups will be happy to babysit.”

I laughed. “Well, my pups aren’t really babies anymore.”

“Maybe mum and da disagree.”

“Maybe.” I smiled. “Back soon.”

By the time I was halfway there, I wished I had gone back to the house and changed into walking shoes. Mule slippers are fine for across the lane, but not walking to the village and back.

I climbed the stairs to Lochlan’s office and knocked.

I’d never seen Lochlan wear a more surprised expression than when he opened the door.

“Rita! What a nice surprise. Come in.” Since no one ever visited Lochlan’s cramped office, the two chairs facing his desk were piled high with books and briefs. “Oh, here. Let me make a place for you to sit.”

“Is this a good time?” I asked.

“Where you’re concerned, there’s not such a thing as a bad time.”

I smiled. Lovely thing to say.

He cleared the seat of one of the chairs so that I could step over a pile of books on the floor and sit down.

“How did you know I was here?” I opened my mouth to reply, but he went on before I made a sound. “Let me guess. You went to the house and Ivy told you.”

“Good detective work.” I was being sarcastic, but playfully so. “Yes. Your dogs are babysitting my dogs.”

He chuckled. “That will make their day. So what brings you?”

“I just scanned the Howland Horn brief.”

“Hmmm.”

“Lochlan, you have mastered the use of ‘hmmm’.”

“Thank you. Go on.”

“Well, I have some questions about that and also about the whole curse-the-judge thing.”

“I’m at your service.”

“Thank the gods. First, your statement of the obvious, that the situation is tricky, isn’t much help. There’s no question that the court has to hear the case. But J.C. and the Supremes, I’d almost rather do a day with Buster.”

Lochlan nodded with the solemnity of a diplomat whose words might either start or prevent a world war. “I believe you have grasped the complicated nature of the situation in full. A very sticky wicket. But the condition is no secret. Naevia’s own family has been calling her Maddie for a long time.”

“Leave it to the fae to make a joke out of a tragedy. But back to my question. Can I talk to Queen Arantxa about this? In private?”

“That would be highly irregular. And you know it.”

“I do. That’s why I’m asking you to help me weigh the consequence of stepping outside protocol with coming to a ruling that everybody can live with. For all we know, deep down Arantxa might be grateful to her other children for taking the problem off her hands. At the very least, I’d be able to determine how we might deal with Naevia with compassion tolerable to her mother.”

“You want to use the relationship you’ve inadvertently cemented with the queens through your plaque program to insure that the outcome is favorable for all parties.”

“Exactly. Well put.”

“I know your heart is in the right place.”

“My heart isn’t supposed to have anything to do with my rulings.”

Lochlan chuckled. “Your gift for self-awareness has failed you in this case. Your heart is first and foremost in every case you decide.”

Was that true?

On reflection, I realized it might be true.

“That’s not a criticism, mind you,” Lochlan added. “Without a doubt The Powers That Be chose you partly for that reason.”

“I hope you’re right. But about paying a visit to Arantxa…”

He sighed. “It’s a coin toss. It might help you get to the best solution. It might blow up in our faces. If the magic community comes to think cases are decided in private in dark, smoke-filled rooms…”

“Hold the drama, Lochlan.”

“Very well. If you intend to pursue this idea, you must insure that the meeting is clandestine.”

“Can’t help yourself, can you?”

Lochlan rarely stared, but when his eye-lock pause became uncomfortable, I knew the timer had already been started on the political bomb under discussion.

“I don’t know that I can advise you,” he said.

I was shaking my head before he finished that sentence. “You’re my advisor. That means you don’t have a choice.”

“Beg to differ.”

“Beg all you want. The fact is that you’re my go-to and I need your counsel on this.”

“Very well. Here it is. Follow your own instincts.”

I grabbed my hair at both temples and yelled, “AWKKKKKK!”

Lochlan didn’t move a muscle nor did his expression change, but when I regained my composure, he said, “That was interesting.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do.”

“You’re not going to help.”

“Not from lack of desire. I just have nothing valuable to add.”

“If you don’t say something to the contrary, I’m going.” He crossed his arms over his abdomen and said nothing. “So be it.”

I got to my feet, stepped over the books, took hold of the door handle and said, “Let it be written. Let it be done,” in parting. Of course, I hoped those wouldn’t be my parting words. I hoped he’d stop me and say he’d changed his mind and really did have input.

I was reminded of the wise person who said that the demon most evil of all is the one named Hope.

Evie arranged a meeting with Arantxa and surprised me by being agreeable when I told her I couldn’t talk about the occasion; that it must be between Arantxa and me privately. I asked Evie to give Arantxa the choice of meeting place, but stipulated that we must be alone. No servants. No guards. No administrative assistants.

It surprised me even more when Arantxa readily agreed. I have to admit that I was pleased when she invited me to come to Anglo Welsh faerie. I was dying to see what it was like.

“She’s going to entertain you in her private tower,” Evie said as she looked me over. “Bring the shawl. They like it on the cool side.” As I reached for the “magic” shawl, which was never far away, she went on. “Once you arrive, she will have a tea served then ask everybody to vamoose. Do you know what you’re doing? I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“No. And so do I.”

“Do we need to keep the calvary at the ready?” She chuckled, remembering Sam Wutong’s reference.

“Would that help? I thought Arantxa’s reign is absolute.”

“Oh, it is. More than most.”

“Then there’s be no way to save me if she didn’t want me saved.”

“Right. Never mind. You’re on your own.” After briefly playing with her Van Gogh replica scarf, she said, “Ready?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes. Don’t go so fast that I get dizzy or nauseas”

“You’re kind of demanding for a hitchhiker.”

“You know there will never be enough you can do to repay me for twenty-eight hours of labor.”

She laughed. “Good one. I’m going to use that even if I have an easy time of it.”

I grew serious. “I hope you have an easy time of it.”

“Awwww. You lub me.”

“Big surprise. Now away. Going to London to see the queen.”

“You do know Anglo Welsh faerie is not in London. Right?”

“Don’t get literal on me.” I threaded my arm through the crook of her elbow and locked my fingers together. “And don’t lose me.”

It was as if Arantxa was trying to match the vision I had in my head of a medieval queen in her tower. Stone walls. Stone floors. Massive wood furniture. Sumptuous tapestries. An enormous bowl of fruit sat on the distressed wood table making it look like the painting of a Dutch master.

The queen wore a floor length, brick-colored, velvet gown with long sleeves and a tasteful neckline. The color was wonderful with her light brown hair and gray eyes. I’d never seen her with her hair worn loose or without a head covering of some kind. She was even more stunning when relaxed.

I hadn’t gotten to see as much of Arantxa’s queendom as I would’ve liked. We emerged from the mists in front of a large arched wood door. Evie made a quick gesture that caused invisible windchimes to sing.

The door opened soundlessly to a large hallway lined with guards.

I made a mental to ask Evie why an all-powerful monarch would need so much security. I wondered if it meant there was unrest in Anglo Welsh faerie. I’d managed to steer clear of magic kind politics, for the most part, and believed that was the best policy. Still, I wondered if there were uprisings or coups or such.

“Welcome, Magistrate,” Queen Arantxa’s smile was radiant.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” I said.

She gestured toward a chair at the table. I recognized the unusual arched back shape from a chair I’d once seen in a museum catalog. It had a leather seat and back almost identical to the color of her dress.

As soon as I was seated, several attendants rushed in with tea service fit for a queen. In minutes, the table was laden with a magnificent display and the room had cleared.

“I appreciate the honor of being invited to your home,” I said.

“Your daughter’s request wasn’t taken lightly. We belong to a rather small and exclusive sorority, she and i.”

I nodded. “Indeed you do.”

“And, to be honest, I guessed what you want to discuss.”

“You did?”

She smiled sadly. “I’ve been doing this a long time. Guessing what others are thinking is part of the job.”

“I’d get fired the first day.”

It was the first time I’d ever seen Arantxa laugh, but having lived on the border crossings of magic kind for a year, I wasn’t surprised that it was, well, magical.

“Do you know why I’ve come?” I asked.

As her smile slowly fell, she reached for the ornate silver teapot and poured into my cup that looked like an intricate, hand-painted version of Royal Doulton. After pouring for both of us, she settled back and raised her cup to her lips. She still hadn’t answered.

Since I was all too aware that I was probably the furthest thing from a natural-born diplomat, I calculated that the only way through the situation was careful treading. I mirrored her action and took a sip of tea.

“Oh. Bergamot,” I said. “My favorite.”

She raised her eyes to mine. “With lavender. Calming.”

“Yes. It is. I just learned something new. I didn’t know fae systems are affected by herbs and essences.”

She placed her cup in its saucer, but didn’t set it down. “All creatures are affected by the properties of our physical realities.”

I nodded. “I like rain.”

A shadow of her former smile returned. “As do I. It nurtures the life of my fields and forests that in turn nurture the life of my subjects.”

“I can’t really relate. I don’t have fields or forests or subjects. Except for my fraighounds. I just like the sound of rain. On warm days I also like the feel of it.”

She cocked her head. “If you were fae, you might belong here at Howland Horn.”

“Maybe. It seems we do have some things in common.”

That was followed by another period of silence. I felt like I was failing my mission and that the only path forward, though fraught by political peril, was the truth.

“Your Highness, I’m certain you know without me saying so, that I’m out of my depth when it comes to visiting your court. I find I need your guidance to avoid a possible communications calamity. Please tell me, would you prefer to hear me speak my mind or would you prefer that I express my gratitude for the audience and the tea, and leave?”

She gazed into her cup as she said, “You’re here about Naevia.”

When she looked up, I nodded. “That’s right.”

She set the cup and saucer down. “Indeed, Magistrate. You have my permission to speak openly.”

“Very well. I hope those who’ve seen me today can be trusted to keep it to themselves because it could damage the reputation of my office if it got around that I have personal clandestine meetings with the powerful when they’re involved in cases coming before the court.”

“Punishment for repeating what’s heard in my palace is quite severe. It has served as a deterrent for a very long time.”

I placed my cup and saucer on the table in front of me. “I wanted to broach the possibility of foregoing a public hearing as I believe that this case is, at its heart, a family matter; one you’d no doubt prefer to keep private.”

“You are not wrong.” I sat back as a little tension drained away. “And you are not right.” I tensed though I hoped it wasn’t noticeable. “I want what’s best for my child.” I encouraged her to continue with another nod. “But that has proven to be elusive just as the way forward is more murky than clear. I let the petition go forward because I decided it would be best for the matter to be public.”

I frowned.

“You want to know why,” she stated succinctly.

“I do. Yes. If you want to tell me.”

“Restricting the freedom of a member of the royal house, for any reason, is a grave affair wrought with political peril. It would set a new precedent for vulnerability. My subjects might be inclined to think, if we could imprison one, we could imprison all.”

“Well, I…”

She held up a hand. “Of course, I mean imprisonment figuratively. If my daughter’s movements were restricted, she would be confined within the lifestyle to which she’s been accustomed. But I’m given to understand that humans describe this as a golden cage.”

“Gilded cage,” I corrected and immediately regretted my compulsion toward idiocy. “But same thing.” Rushing on before my faux pas had a chance to linger in the air too long, I said, “I’m not sure I understand. Doesn’t a public hearing give the appearance of vulnerability.”

“One might be given to think so except for this. There’s a distinction, however subtle you perceive it to be. If the royal family is proactive in insuring the monarchy is a sound presence on firm footing, it shall not become a cause to be taken up by our subjects.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“You agree with Naevia’s siblings. That she’d be better off under controlled circumstances.”

“An inescapable fact, I’m afraid. But I am the girl’s mother after all. It wouldn’t be seemly for me to suggest such a thing.”

That’s when it dawned on me. “It’s a plan. And the whole thing was your idea!” A ghost of a Mona Lisa smile touched the corners of her mouth. I chuckled. “Your Highness, I should’ve known you’d be way ahead of me.”

“That is not a given. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the surprises and astute observations that have become a hallmark of your court.”

“Why, thank you.” I thought I might actually be blushing.” And thank you for having me for tea.”

“It was my pleasure.”

The queen offered a tiny bow of her head, not in deference, but dismissal.

I was shown out a side entrance. As I turned to ask how I should go about getting a ‘ride’ home, the great arched door closed in my face.

I was on a green plateau that looked like a manicured lawn due to the attention of a large flock of beautiful, black-faced sheep. The plateau became a cliff that plunged to a river canyon with old growth forest on the other side.

The view, complete with the enhanced colors of faerie, was spectacular, but I was much more concerned with the fact that I was alone in an alien environment. One with no cell service.

There wasn’t much to be done other than finding a place to sit and hoping Evie would remember she’d left me at Howland Horn. I could’ve attempted to make the hike around the palace to a more populated space, but that would negate the clandestine aspect of my visit.

I wished I’d asked for a visit to the Ladies’ room before being escorted out. I also hoped the macaron I’d had with tea would sustain me for however long I was to be left to survive on my own. I was certain my circumstance wasn’t the result of either cruelty or prank. The fae were simply unaware of the challenges that come with being human.

“That’s it!” I said to myself.

I walked back to the giant arched door, made a fist, pounded on it with the side of my hand. “HELLO? HELLO? IS SOMEBODY THERE?”

Not a creak or squeak gave away the fact that the door was opening.

A tall guard in Howland Horn crimson tunic stood waiting with his arms crossed over his chest. “Suggest you curtail the shouting, Magistrate. Someone is likely to think you have no manners.”

“I have no manners?!?” I challenged. “You put me out here and left me with no way home.”

“I put you nowhere,” he countered.

“Well, someone else who is wearing red and is incredibly handsome like you, then.”

He couldn’t seem to keep his mouth from forming a mini smirk. “What do you mean left you with no way home?”

I pointed to myself. “Human. I can’t leave faerie without a fae escort.”

He raised his chin, lowered his arms, took a deep breath and said, “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Do you want me to…?”

“That would be lovely. Can you find Hallow Hill?”

“England. Of course.”

With that he grabbed my forearm.

Transportation between dimensions can be expected, but not accepted. Every time was as much a shock to my senses as the first time. Let me tell you what it’s like. First, the environment blurs to, well, a blur. Then I’m so busy trying to keep my stomach from jumping out of my body that I don’t have time to notice what else is going on. Ever been on an elevator with a way-too-fast descent?

When we arrived on Hallow Hill’s green it was after dark. I wasn’t dressed for the cold and damp, but I was also just two minutes from my house.

“Thank you, um…”

His answer was to disappear without a word. And he had the nerve to suggest my manners need work!

My house opened the door for me just as I reached the threshold.

“Thank you,” I said as I hurried through on the way to the closet to get my plush faux fur robe. After moving into the house of my dreams I tried to stop myself from verbally communicating, but after a few weeks, I just gave into the compulsion. Some impulses die hard.

Yes. I own it. I’m a woman who talks to cars and houses. One of them talks back. The other shows me appreciation by surrounding me with feelings of well-being. I can’t prove it. I just know it’s true.

Keir appeared at the door of my closet as I was pulling my robe on over my clothes.

“Heard you come in,” he said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you get a chill?”

“Uh-huh.”

His pacific expression changed to perturbed. “How did that happen?” He looked around. “Where is Evie? Did she just drop you and go?”

“Um. Not exactly.”

“What happened?” He crossed his arms, lowered his chin and added, “Exactly.”

“Mom?”

Keir and I both turned our heads in the direction of Evie’s voice which sounded like it was coming from the direction of the kitchen.

“Keir? Is Mom here?”

At that, Keir looked at me with gray thunderclouds forming in his eyes.

I held up both hands. “Wait. As you can see, I’m fine.”

He darted toward the kitchen with me on his heels and was confronting Evie by the time he stepped over the kitchen threshold.

“Evangeline.” His tone dripped accusation. “Your mother is pulling on extra clothes because of the chill she caught. I haven’t had a chance to hear how this happened.”

Evie leaned to her right to get a look at me. I was trying to move Keir’s solid, hunk of a frame out of the doorway so that I could join them in the room. I pushed with both hands. He was immoveable.

“Move!” I said. “And I’ll tell you both what happened.”

He looked down at me, considered that, then stepped out of the way.

“When the meeting was over, I was shown to a side door and found myself enjoying a peaceful sheepy scene in Howland Horn. It was beautiful, and maybe I’m a little ashamed to say this because I don’t approve of short attention spans, but it got old pretty fast. Also, faerie is unpredictable. The scene could’ve changed any minute.” Evie nodded, which confirmed that my fears were valid. “So, I turned around and went back to the giant medieval door. I banged on it and shouted.”

“You did?” Evie’s eyes were wide.

“Yeah. Is there a problem with that?”

“I, uh, guess that depends on what happened next,” she said.

“Well, I’ll tell you. The door opened and one of the queen’s guards stood there looking miffed and accusing me of bad manners.” Keir looked at me like I’d just described a one-eyed, one-horned, flying, purple, people eater. “I explained that I was stranded. He had to be reminded that humans don’t travel between dimensions without assistance.” I looked at the stove. “Could I have something hot? Please?” Keir sighed as he moved to put the kettle on. “When he finally understood my predicament, he offered to give me a ride. So to speak. I asked if he knew where to find Hallow Hill. He asked if it was in England and sounded like he was having trouble refraining from saying, ‘Duh’.”

“How did you get a chill?” Evie asked looking me up and down. I’m sure that being bundled in my faux fur robe over clothes which made me appear twice my normal size.

“He left me on the green and disappeared without a word.”

“That bastard!” Evie sounded as indignant as I’d felt.

“It was already dark and I wasn’t dressed for after dark cold and damp,” I whined.

“Of course not!”

I took deep primeval satisfaction in hearing my child express that she was squarely on my side. No gray areas. No questions asked.

“So I walked home.”

“Heads are going to roll,” she fumed.

“Hold on. Let’s not take the I’m-the-new-queen-in-town thing too far.” I decided to backpedal a bit. “You know my front door is only two minutes from the green.”

“Still…” she said. “That’s no way to treat a guest.”

“I’m sure Arantxa didn’t do it deliberately. You know she doesn’t entertain human guests every day.”

“That is not an excuse.” Evie was livid. “Special care has to be exercised with humans.”

How odd was it to hear my daughter refer to humans as another species.

“Well,” I slumped into one of the kitchen chairs next to the fire Keir had lit. “Don’t mention this to Arantxa. I think she’d be embarrassed.”

“She should be embarrassed!” Not only was Evie not calming, her emotions seemed to be ramping higher.

The kettle whistled as if to punctuate that pronouncement.

“Regardless, please don’t say anything. After all, I’m home safe, almost warm, and all’s well that ends well.”

“You are an exceptionally gracious guest,” Evie said.

“I agree,” Keir chimed in.

“Nice of you to say.”

“Did you have supper at Howland Horn?” Keir asked.

Sometimes Keir did a remarkable impression of a mother hen. I loved it.

“We had tea. It was early afternoon.” In the midst of anxiety, I hadn’t thought too much of the fact that it was dark when I arrived home. “Wait a minute. What happened to the day? By my reckoning there are several hours unaccounted for.”

“Time sometimes moves differently in faerie,” Keir said.

“I’ll accept that explanation only because I’m too tired to question it,” I said. “No. I haven’t had supper. Yes. I’m hungry. Evie, do you want to stay?”

“I’d love to, but we’re entertaining a few of the nobles tonight. It would be bad manners for me to no show.”

“We wouldn’t want it said that our family is short on manners,” I quipped.

“How dare that toady address the magistrate so disrespectfully!”

Uh oh. I hadn’t meant to instigate a whole new tornado of negative feelings. “It was a joke, sweetheart. You go be queen of Bayune. I’m going to have comfort food in front of the fire.” I made a show of throwing off my robe. “See? Already good as new.”

“Did you think I’d forget to pick you up?”

Busted.

“Well, I, um…”

She narrowed her eyes. “You think of me as an airheaded teenager, don’t you?”

I was shaking my head vigorously. “No. I’m just aware that, at any given moment, you have a lot of balls in the air.”

After studying me for a few beats, she said, “I’m still a work in progress, but I have my priorities straight and my mom is a priority. I wouldn’t leave you stranded.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, your mother wouldn’t slip your mind.”

She glanced at Keir, gave the dogs ten seconds of affection each, then said, “Love you. Talk tomorrow.” And she was gone.

“Is she showing?”

Keir slid into the chair across from me and pushed a steaming mug in my direction. “I don’t know.”

“Can’t be. I just found out I’m gonna be a grand.”

I encircled the mug with both hands and reveled in the warmth then bent down and let the steam cover my face while the scent of bergamot and lavender transformed the kitchen to paradise.

“You. Are. The. Best,” I told Keir. “No question about it.”

He chuckled. “A warm robe. A spot of tea. I’d call you low maintenance.” He turned to poke at the fire. “You want something from Molly’s? Olivia left a bunch of things in the refrigerator, but none of them are any good.”

I cocked my head. “What kind of things did she leave that are no good?”

He waggled his head. “This salad. That salad. Hummus. Carrot sticks. Radish a la orange.”

I laughed. “Yeah. Sounds awful.”

“Glad you agree. Give me your order and I’ll be on the way. Unless you want time for a hot bath first?”

That sounded pretty good. “Bath first.” I slanted my eyes in his direction. “Want to join me?”

I loved seeing that I’d caught him off guard. It only took a few seconds for that look of surprise to melt into full on lasciviousness, complete with crooked grin.

CHAPTER TEN  If Pigs Could Fly

Finalization of the Mabon docket was easy after my conversation with Arantxa. Some of the files that found their way to my worktable were so ridiculous they ended up in a haphazard pile on the floor. I admit to occasionally using more force than necessary to place them there, but sometimes utter disgust requires making noises and acting out.

Three days before court was to commence, I ambled over to The Hallows after walking the dogs on the moors with Lochlan. It was still too early for shop hours, but the door was open.

“Maggie!” I called as I advanced to the rear of the store. “You left the door unlocked again.”

“Oh pish,” she said as she appeared in the hall outside the workroom. “What is it we have to fear with Dolan here?”

“Nothing, but if you’re in the habit of leaving the door unlocked, you’ll do it when Dolan is not here.”

“Well, then. What do I have to fear when Dolan is no’ here?”

I shook my head and sighed as my eyes drifted toward the workroom.

“Good gods in heaven, what is that?” I asked.

Dolan turned and looked at the piece in the middle of the center table as if he was trying to see it through my eyes, but said nothing.

“Oh, ‘tis a prancin’ pig, it is,” said Maggie.

After girding my patience, I said, “I can see that.”

The figure on the table was a statue about fifteen inches high. It appeared to be bronze, but had been painted in places to render it more colorful.

Indeed, it was a pig prancing on two legs, naked except for a blue waistcoat with large buttons. It would’ve been comical in a children’s book way if not for the hideous head. Granted that pigs are not thought to be particularly attractive animals by me or anyone else, but this one’s expression seemed grotesque.

“It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” I pronounced.

Maggie’s attention jerked toward the statue. After studying it for a minute, she said, “More than the umbrella crown?”

“Yes.”

“More than the skull cracked and burned by Thor’s lightning?”

“Yes.”

“More than…”

“Maggie! You don’t think that’s ugly.”

She seemed to be searching for the right answer as if there was a right answer. “Seems just a pig to me. Although I do admit most do no’ go about in pretty blue coats. Look. His little dingle is curled like his tail.”

“Maggie!”

“What?” She was unabashed.

“Do we think it’s safe?” I asked Dolan.

“Do you have an untoward feeling?” Dolan asked.

I was touched that he respected my sixth sense, such as it was, and didn’t dismiss my misgivings as the rantings of a person with not enough cinnamon in her morning coffee.

“I wish I knew what the two of you are seeing. I’m seeing a face so uncommonly ugly as to appear evil.”

“Noooooo,” Maggie shook her head as she said it. “Do no’ see that.”

I looked at Dolan who also shook his head, but slightly.

“Huh. Well, I hope it sells soon. I’ll feel better when it’s not in the shop anymore.”

“We can set a price that will fetch a quick buyer,” Maggie suggested.

“Yes. Please.”

“Consider it done.”

“Give it away if you must.” Maggie glanced at Dolan as if daftness was a concern. “I saw that.”

“No disrespect intended,” Maggie said. “I was merely thinkin’ that, if ye feel so strongly, perhaps we should just be rid of the thing. Profit be damned.”

“That would be okay by me,” I said, feeling a little relieved. “No. Let me correct that. It would be more than okay.”

“Shall we call John David and ask if he has another hidey hole?”

“I don’t think this warrants something so drastic. On the other hand, if it is as not good as I think, it would be irresponsible to toss it in the rubbish.”

While I was talking, Maggie was pulling out her phone and dialing.

“J.D,” I heard her say. “You remembered the spotted hedgewidget thing?” Pause. “Have ye a place for a second such object?” Pause. She glanced up at me. “Oh, aye. No need to come ‘round. We consider it a favor. The least we can do is deliver it.” Pause. “No. The magistrate will no’ bring it personally. She’s a powerful aversion to the look of it.” Pause. “’Tis a pig.” Pause. “No. Sorry. A statue of a pig in a coat prancin’ and dancin’ about like he was no’ a pracin’ dancin’ pig missin’ his pants.”

I could have sworn I heard laughter through the phone. “Is he laughing at me?” I asked.

Maggie shook her head and refused to hand over the phone. “Dolan will be by. Thank you.” Pause. “Aye. Lunch at the magistrate’s on Tuesday after court.”

When she ended the call, I stopped reaching for the phone.

“I wanted to tell him what I thought about him laughing at me.”

“No’ when we’re askin’ the vampire to do us a good one.”

That wisdom wasn’t up for debate. It was both sound and mature.

“Okay.”

Maggie cocked her head. “Are ye off yer feed?”

I tumbled that around inside my head, but eventually had to give up. “I don’t know what that means.”

With an exasperated sigh, Maggie said, “Is all well with ye?”

“Oh. Well. Yes. Thank you for asking.”

She went on about her business, but left the impression she didn’t entirely accept my answer. I followed her into the little office.

“Is everything okay here? Should I be coming by more often?”

“’Tis up to you now, is it no’?’

“Not an answer.”

“’Tis.”

“Should I go out and come back in? I feel like I’ve done something to offend you and I don’t know what it was.”

“Nary a thing, Magistrate. Perhaps I’m a tad frayed ‘round the edges because there’s been more passings than usual in the district.”

“And by passings, you mean…”

“Folks givin’ up the ghost, o’ course. Pay me no mind.”

“Do you, um, need some help here?” I knew I relied completely on Maggie to run The Hallows and to make decisions as if she owned it, but I hadn’t considered that she could be slammed by work as easily as the next banshee. “Have I been taking you for granted?”

“Help?” She scoffed. “And who’s the bright thing who’d be able to waltz in here and know our ways?”

“You have me there.” She made a small noise of agreement. “Unless it was me. I could fill in for you when the occasion demands. What’s our sick time policy?”

She looked blank. “Sick time?”

It was a silly thing to say. “I misspoke. I should’ve asked about personal time. Mental health days?” She looked even more mystified. “Do we have an employee handbook even?”

That she understood. “We do no’. And, if ye do no’ mind me sayin’ so, the notion seems silly.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Granted. We probably don’t need an employee handbook, but we do need to establish a process for you to take time off when you need to.” I watched her think that over. “Or just when you want to. Heck. It’s the twenty-first century.”

“Is it, now?”

“I’m sure it’s easy to lose track of the centuries, but yes. It is.”

With a smile, she said, “So you’re sayin’ that, if I wanted, or needed, to take a day off, I should ask you to mind the store?”

“Yes.”

“And ye would?”

“Of course!”

“What if court was in session?”

“That would present a problem. Perhaps you could avoid needing personal days during court weeks.”

“I could.” She was nodding. “That would work out fine.”

When the silence began to stretch I said, “Would you like to take the rest of the day off today? My docket is settled. My dogs are walked and fed and it’s three days until Mabon Court. The timing couldn’t be better.”

Maggie’s face transformed into a glorious smile that made her appear twenty years younger. She slapped her knees with both hands and said, “Well, then,” as she stood. “That bein’ the case, I’m goin’ to visit my sister in the north. ‘Tis been too long since last I saw her.”

“Sounds like a great way to spend a day off. I’ll cover for you here until…?”

“Oh, I’ll be back in the mornin’. You can be sure o’ that,” she said a second before she vanished.

I took a gulp of my warm coffee, previously known as hot coffee, and stepped to the door of the workroom and did my best to ignore the pig, which still occupied a prominent position in the center of the room. Dolan was polishing the tarnish away from some sort of brass horse gear.

“Looks like it’s just you and me for the rest of the day,” I said cheerfully.

He grunted without looking up.

I ambled toward the retail part of the shop and began looking over the inventory. There were a lot of pieces that had been refurbished incorporating design choices I’d made. I took pride in the way they’d turned out, even though it was Dolan’s brounie mastery that brought the ideas to life. There were also a lot of things I hadn’t seen before.

“Dolan,” I called out, “is there anything I shouldn’t touch?”

I waited for an answer, but none came. Thinking perhaps he didn’t hear, I started toward the back just as he stepped out into the passage from the shop to my old residence. As he wiped his hands on a striped towel, his eyes scanned the shop. At length he said, “I can’t say.”

“You don’t know?”

“Not sure. You can see the special items true enough. But you’re mostly human.”

That was the first time I’d heard that phrase used to describe my state of being. “Mostly human,” I repeated as various objects caught my attention. When I looked back up, Dolan was gone. I grunted softly and decided the best policy would be to keep my hands to myself.

It occurred to me that I could be the first shop owner in history who couldn’t touch her inventory. That probably amplified the temptation. Some of the pieces were begging to be handled.

After half an hour I wrenched my self-discipline from its cubby hole and made myself leave the shop floor. I sat in Maggie’s chair and turned on the monitor. The spreadsheets she’d been working on became immediately visible. I suspected that Hallow Hill WIFI got the benefit of a magical boost and, undoubtedly, Fie took credit for it.

Maggie had been openly mistrustful of computerization, but I’d been relentless in my encouragement. It seemed she was an overachiever who’d claimed mastery of Microsoft Office products. The evidence was right in front of my eyes, as was the proof that The Hallows was a very profitable enterprise regardless of a lack of foot traffic. I should qualify that as human foot traffic. Magic kind could come and go without ever being seen and, by the entries in the books, it appeared that most of our business was F2F (fae to fae).

When I’d seen my fill of bookkeeping, I read articles on my phone. By late morning, the quiet of the shop, or maybe the energy therein, was making me feel drowsy. I might have been nodding off when my phone trembled in my hand.

It was Keir.

“Where are you?” he said.

“You know you can always find me using that Find Me app.”

“First, I don’t like it. It feels wrong. Second, hearing your voice is better.”

I chuckled because I also questioned whether Find Me felt right and I also liked hearing his voice. “The Hallows. I gave Maggie the day off.” The ensuing silence had me wondering what might be wrong with that. “Keir?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m here. I just… have never heard of days off being used in a sentence with magic kind.”

“If you’d seen her smile, you’d know that days off come with their own inherent magic.”

“Hmmm. Are you attending legendary lunch today?”

“OMG. How could I forget my own lunch? Be home in a minute.”

“Alright.”

I ended the call and rushed to the workroom. Dolan was nowhere to be found.

“Dolan?”

Nothing.

I called Keir back. “I can’t leave. Dolan’s gone.”

“He left you there alone?”

“Is that a problem?”

“I’m just surprised.”

“I don’t know how to lock up. I mean I know how to lock the front door, but I don’t know how to put up the wards that keep magic kind from jumping in and out at will.”

“Just a minute.” The phone’s speaker was muffled but I could hear the low frequencies of Keir talking to someone. “We’re moving legendary lunch to Olivia’s today. She’ll open the door between her kitchen and the shop. It’ll be like old times.”

“Yeah. That would work, but it sounds like a lot of trouble moving everything over here.”

Keir just laughed as if to say that was a silly thing to say. I suppose it was. What qualifies as trouble to humans wouldn’t be worthy of notice by fae. One thing about long-lived magic kind. They’re flexible and love surprises. The day’s guests had no problem carrying lunch from my house to The Hollows.

“I’ll help move lunch. That way there won’t be any waves of noise interrupting my sports.”

“By waves of noise, you mean laughter?”

“Yes.”

Change of venue? No problem.

When we were seated and happily enjoying Olivia’s version of General Tso’s chicken with jasmine rice and leeks, Fie said, “Will you tease Mabon Court for us?”

I continued chewing while thinking that over. “You mean give you a preview of cases to come?”

He smiled and nodded as he bit off half a spring roll made with the freshest green and purple cabbage.

Esme turned to me, “Indeed, Rita. What do you have in store for us?”

“I don’t think I should go there without consulting with Lochlan on potential ethical considerations,” I said.

With a signature Esme scoff, she said, “Ethical. Smethical. He’s not here.”

“Esme, you should recuse yourself from this discussion because I’m not sure you know what ethics are.”

By the twinkle in her eye and the charmingly smirky way while her mouth turned up, my suspicion was confirmed. Esmerelda loved banter like a teenaged boy.

As to how I handled the request for inside info? My only excuse is that my guests egged me on as a collective and neither Lochlan nor Keir was there to rein in my gossipy impulses.

“Well…” I paused for dramatic effect and noticed, with satisfaction, that people leaned in. “No. I just can’t.” The volume of the group protest that ensued made me laugh out loud. “Alright. Alright. I’ll say this much. There’s a hearing on the mental state of a member of one of the royal houses.”

My guests looked from one to another with raised eyebrows.

“There’s a divorce dispute over a flying horse.” I waited for the murmurs of excitement to subside. “And there’s a nuisance Kludde loose in Flanders.”

I felt silly saying that, because even though I looked it up twice, I didn’t know exactly where Flanders was.

Fie turned to the group. “Who do we know who has a flying horse?”

“Stop that!” I said. “If you’re going to use my hints against me, it’ll be the last time you get a tease.” I watched them look at each other. “I mean it.”

After an obligatory group grumble, the conversation turned to John David’s Halloween Party. Between my lunches and the vampire’s parties, John David and I had both become A list socialites in Hallow Hill. What a difference a year makes.

On the nineteenth of September Mabon Court week began land disputes and complaints about noise pollution. One fae gentleman farmer accused his neighbor of directing a large flock of enchanted geese to fly in circles above his house for an hour every evening at dinnertime. Apparently, the geese honked loudly enough to make conversation, even thought, if the plaintiff was to be believed, impossible.

Dzbog Bogdan was representing the plaintiff, but counsel for the defendant was new to the court.

“State your name, Counselor,” I said.

“Braes Brightgen, Your Honor. Please to be representin’ Jorlivaugh Craigend.”

Braes Brightgen couldn’t have been more different from Bogdan in both appearance and demeanor. Whereas Bogdan was as gruff, serious, and intense as they come, Brightgen gave every appearance of being a lighthearted Scot who, I suspected, was fun at parties.

I sat back, leaned toward Lochlan, and whispered, “He’s passed our new certification and been licensed?”

Lochlan nodded.

I sat up and looked at Brightgen.

“Very well. Congratulations on obtaining your license. I expect you to conduct yourself as a dignified officer of the court at all times.” When Lochlan cleared his throat, I looked down and read a fast scribbled note. “Correction. I expect you to conduct yourself as a dignified office of the court when court is in session.”

“Understood, Magistrate,” he replied cheerfully.

Bogdan’s work had been done for him by a well-written brief. He summarized the issue then proceeded to inform the court that the lawsuit was paired with a threat; either impose a mandate on the neighbor to knock it off, or Bogdan’s client would have cause to order an enchanted shotgun, custom made for the purpose of restoring the peace.

I admit that the court, meaning me, normally bristles at ultimatums, but in this case, I thought the man had a point. Everyone should be entitled to enjoy supper in the manner they choose.

“I apologize to the court if the client’s position is offensive, but must represent to the best of my ability, and he could not be dissuaded from directing me to inform you of his intentions.”

“Perceptive, Mr. Bogdan. The court is taken all the facts into account.” To Brightgen, I said, “What say you, Mr. Brightgen? I, for one, have a profound interest in learning why your client set his magic geese on his neighbor.”

The plaintiff leaned over and said something to Brightgen.

“Your Honor, my client insists that I offer a correction for the record. His flock is no’ made up of magic geese. They are enchanted geese.”

“I fail to see the distinction,” I countered.

“Well, magic geese are geese born to faerie, created as such, whereas enchanted geese are ordinary geese that’ve been bespelled.”

With a sigh, I said, “Thank you for the explanation. I accept the correction. Continue.”

“The defendant’s property is upstream from my client’s sheep farm. He dammed the stream so that the natural flow of water is now retained for his exclusive use.”

“It’s okay to do that in Scotia faerie?”

“No. ‘Tis no’, Your Honor, but like many guidelines, one can no’ expect enforcement. Without enforcement, one may do as he pleases.”

“I see.”

My eyes slid to Bogdan. “The plot thickens, Mr. Bogdan. It’s not surprising that this information was omitted from your brief.”

Bogdan made no reply, which was wise.

“Mr. Craigend,” I addressed the defendant directly, “if your neighbor destroys the dam so that water is again flowing freely, will you dispense with the nightly harassment?”

“Of course, Your Honor,” said Mr. Craigend.

It was refreshing to have someone come before me wearing a polite and humble manner.

“Good. You may sit, Mr. Craigend.” To the plaintiff’s table, I said, “Mr. Bogdan, I only wish all my cases were as clearcut and easy. Your client will immediately destroy the dam. If there is interruption in the flow of water to Mr. Craigend’s property again, Mr. Craigend will be entitled to annex your client’s land as well.”

When Bogdan opened his mouth to reply, I banged my gavel, and said, “Next case.

The morning was relatively routine. By noon I was ready for a break and practically salivating, knowing that Molly was sending chicken and dumplings for lunch.

“What’s on the docket for the afternoon?” I asked Lochlan as I stirred yummy comfort food served in its own Royal Doulton tureen.

“Flying horse dispute. Divorce. No prenup,” he replied just before devouring most of a piece of rectangular flatbread.

“That looks good,” I said. “What’s on it?”

“Extra pepperoni. Extra green peppers. Extra mushrooms. Sun dried tomatoes. Extra cilantro.”

“Extra being the operative word?” I joked.

“I’m getting that tomorrow,” Keir said, “without the peppers, mushrooms, tomatoes, and that other thing.”

“Cilantro?” I offered.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“Let me guess. Instead of veggies, you’ll have…”

“Italian sausage, hamburger, and ham.”

I almost gagged. “That is borderline disgusting, Keir. I’m pretty sure the bread will fall apart from being soaked with that much grease.”

He chuckled. “I’m not above eating pizza with a knife and fork.”

“Oh, you’re not above that?” I asked. He shook his head good-naturedly as he chewed one of his three double meat, double cheese ploughman sandwiches. “Tell the truth. You really want to eat the meat and cheese and throw the bread away, don’t you?”

He smiled while continuing to chew. I knew he secretly loved that I knew his inner thoughts so well.

“So why don’t you just order at stack of steaks every day?” I asked.

“Beauty and the Beast,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Pardon?”

“You know the story?” he asked.

“Of course, I know the story, Keir. Everybody knows the story.” I was trying to make the connection between Keir’s food preferences and the fairy tale when it dawned on me. “Ohhhhh.”

“Yes,” he said.

Lochlan looked between us. “Am I out of the loop as they say these days?”

I turned to my clerk. “The princess was disgusted when she caught the beast devouring raw meat.”

“Ah. I see,” Lochlan said. The familiar sound of Hengest’s rap on the door interrupted our thoughts. “Time to go.”

As Lochlan was making his way to the door, I pushed my tureen aside, and leaned into Keir. “I love you, beast and all. Eat what you want.”

He rose and extended his hand with a bow and flourish gesture. It never got old and never failed to get a girlish giggle out of me.

None other than Gote Murelli took his place as counsel for the plaintiff, one Regali Montecassi. I didn’t recognize the defense lawyer, which meant she was one of the new crop of licensees. I glanced down at my log.

Her name was Onorato Achilla, representing Strava Curpetto.

“Mr. Murelli,” I said before realizing he was particular about his name. “Beg your pardon, Counselor. I meant to say Gote Murelli.”

He stood, buttoned his coat and said, “Here, Your Honor.”

“Yes. I see that. You are representing the plaintiff?”

“Yes, Magistrate.”

“You may proceed to summarize your petition and cite the plaintiff’s wish for remedy.”

“Thank you. Regali Montecassi,” he paused and gestured to the man on his right, “is bringing suit against his former wife. Signore Montecassi is suing for return of a rare, prized winged horse. The creature is an invaluable asset because so few exist. This one belonged to a Valkyrie at one time. My client’s former wife has threatened violence to anyone who attempts to claim the animal and, since she has a small army, my client finds it prudent to leave judgment up to the court. ”

When Murelli said nothing more, I asked, “Is that the whole of it then?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Alright. You may be seated.” I turned to the defendant’s table. “You are?”

“Onorata Achilla, Your Honor.”

She stood and smoothed the Victorian red velvet dress she wore. Her hair and makeup with not in keeping with the period, but the look was striking. She wore her long, straight black locks pulled around her neck so that they cascaded down one breast. It was hard to choose what to look at because her flashing black eyes and lips that matched the red of her costume were equal contenders.

“How do you wish to be addressed? I asked.

With head cocked, she asked, “How would you like to address me?”

I couldn’t help a smile. We could do with a little more schmoozing at court.

“Onorata or Ms. Achilla.”

“Either is fine with me, Magistrate.”

“Well said.” I failed to stop myself from giving Murelli a glance. “Ms. Achilla, I assume your client contests this claim or you wouldn’t be here.”

“That’s right, Your Honor.”

“Please explain.”

“Of course. My client, Baronessa Strava Curpetto, was given a winged horse as the major part of her wedding present. As a matter of fact, the prearrangement of the gift was one of the major reasons why the Baronessa’s family gave permission for her to marry beneath her.”

Murelli jumped to his feet. “Objection!”

“Overruled,” I said. “Gote Murelli, are you objecting on grounds that the idea of social strata in the fae world is offensive, or on the grounds that the horse was not part of a matchmaking pledge?”

He seemed to grapple with that. He couldn’t argue that class was a big part of fae life without offending, well, everybody. That left the latter.

At length, he said, “The objection is withdrawn, Magistrate.”

I supposed he looked sheepish for Murelli. That would still register as intensely combative in comparison to most people.

“Is there more, Ms. Achilla?” I asked.

“Indeed, yes, Your Honor.”

“Please proceed.”

“When my client was given the horse, she never expected to come to love him like a pet. And, I might add, the creature returns her affection and does not want to be parted from her.”

I thought about questioning that, but knew there were ways for fae to discern the thoughts of magic kind. “I see.” I looked the Baroness over. She certainly had the bearing of someone near the top of the hierarchy. I could also easily imagine her as a horsewoman.

“Though those are powerful reasons why the horse should remain with my client, they are not the biggest reason. The biggest reason would be that Signore Montecassi scares the horse when he turns into a pig.”

I felt my mouth fall open at the same time there was a collective gasp from the crowd in attendance. The gasp was followed by every head turning to stare at Signore Montecassi. Those who hadn’t gasped were snickering. Those who were horrified exchanged looks to gauge how to react.

I banged my gavel. “Ms. Achilla. We’re all eagerly waiting for an explanation.”

She closed her eyes as she nodded curtly. When she opened them, I could see she was loaded for bear.

“When my client discovered that her husband was engaged in multiple trysts while claiming to be gaming with gentlemen friends, she traveled on foot, as custom demands, to the heart of the Stregerian Forest to see the old one. In exchange for homage and a generous honorarium, the old one cursed her husband to remain his handsome self by day, but transform into a pig at night.”

Like everyone else, I looked over at the plaintiff. It was easy to see that neither he, nor his attorney, had expected that to come out at court though I’m not sure why. I don’t have a cunning bone in my body and even I would have made that the centerpiece of my strategy.

I couldn’t help but think back to the pig on a stick statue in The Hallows and wonder what sort of non-coincidence that was.

“Signore Montecassi had, one day, participated in bacchanalian drinking rites and lost track of time. He’d borrowed his wife’s winged horse without asking with every intention of returning before he was missed, but his curse was activated by encroaching darkness before he arrived.

“He was landing at their home near Verona when he changed. According to my client, the poor horse was nearly frightened to death.”

Laughter burst out at points around the room. My eyes were drawn to the gallery where I saw Loki and Sam laughing so hard they were leaning on each other. I had to admit that my image of a winged horse freaking out because of a pig on its back was a little comical. The two gods were too far away for me to be sure, but I thought I saw Sam wink before they disappeared.

I refocused on Ms. Achilla who was saying, “For these reasons, my client believes she is entitled to retain custody of the horse.”

Ms. Achilla sat down.

Like all those who’d gone through my new counselor certification program, she knew what was and what was not acceptable in my court. Sitting on conclusion of presentation was acceptable.

I cleared my throat. “Mr. Murelli. Do you have anything to add?”

“Yes, Magistrate,” he said as he got to his feet. “First, the spirit of a wedding gift is the transfer of ownership to a wife. When the receiver of the gift chose to no longer be a wife, she relinquished claim to the gift. Second, I would argue that the plaintiff cannot cause my client to become a pig every night at dusk and then sue when he does so.”

Ms. Achilla shot to her feet. “I object, Your Honor.”

“On what grounds?” I asked.

She glared at the plaintiff’s table. “On the grounds that my client’s former husband deserves to live life as the pig he is.”

“Overruled,” I said.

She sat down with a huff. I supposed that Ms. Achilla was the sort of person who was accustomed to having things go her way.

“Baronessa Curpetto.” I addressed the defendant directly then waited as Ms. Achilla instructed her to stand and answer.

“Yes, Magistrate,” she said with an admirable air of dignity.

“Hypothetically, would it be possible to reverse the curse on your ex?”

She looked at her counselor as if she didn’t understand the question. After a minute or so of whispered exchanges, the baronessa said, “Hypothetically. Yes.”

“In that case I have another question. If I were to give you the choice of keeping your husband in this weird were-pig reality, or keeping the horse, which would you choose?”

“The horse, Magistrate.”

Her answer was firm and immediate and I found that I’d been holding my breath, hoping she’d answer thus.

I smiled. “Thank you. You may be seated.”

Turning to the plaintiff table, I said, “Gote Murelli, you made worthy arguments today. Because you articulated the position so well, I suggest you settle the matter with the defendant. The curse will be lifted from your client. The baronessa will keep the horse.”

Murelli looked at the plaintiff, who nodded. “That is acceptable. According to those terms, we withdraw the complaint.”

I’d heard it said that nobody ever wins in a lawsuit. Yet I concluded the case of the flying pig feeling like it was a win for all parties. Yes. The man had behaved abominably, but perhaps he’d served enough time as a pig to either amend his ways or be committed to bachelorhood.

CHAPTER ELEVEN  Maddie

The following day marked a case that would prove to be memorable to all who were present both because of the rarity of the subject matter and the events as they played out.

Lochlan had waited until that morning to tell me that he was stepping down as clerk long enough to represent Princess Naevia for the duration of the hearing regarding her mental competency.

“I didn’t know this was an option,” I said.

“It is,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Since he was the authority on all things related to court, I wasn’t in a position to argue, and he knew it. He could be making up the rules as we went along for all I knew.

“Why you?”

“Since she doesn’t have representation and, in fact, won’t be present, the court is obligated to provide representation.”

“Oh.”

“I couldn’t think of anyone appropriate, so I volunteered myself.”

“I thought you were supposed to be seen as above the fray. Sitting high on the dais and such.”

“Technically that’s you, Magistrate.”

“Well, alright, Lochlan. What will I do if I need a clerk in the middle of the hearing?”

“Ask Hengest.”

I snorted. “Right.”

I had been dreading the hearing scheduled to establish the mental fitness, or lack thereof, of Arantxa’s child. While I respected all the queens, I liked some more than others and greatly admired the way Arantxa comported herself. In this case I related to her as a mother. The fact that she was queen of Howland Horn was mostly irrelevant.

I recognized counsel for the plaintiffs.

“Blythe Merriwether,” I said, “You’ve been certified and licensed to practice in my court?”

“I have, Your Honor.”

She was just as beautiful and eccentric as I remembered. She may have invented steam punk for all I knew. It was none of the court’s business, but I was curious as to how she ended up in that chair.

“I understand that you’re here to present a plea for guardianship. Please tell the court who you’re representing and why you’ve petitioned for this hearing.”

With a single sharp nod, she said, “I’m representing the children of the House of Howland Horn.” She looked to her right where the princely gathering sat at the table. “All are in agreement. All are present except for the youngest, Naevia. Her welfare that is of concern to her family.”

“Proceed to present your case.”

“Naevia’s exceedingly odd behavior has been growing steadily more alarming to the point where her brothers and sisters fear for her safety and well-being. They ask the court to direct that she be compassionately confined when she is not being supervised by designees acting in the capacity of caregivers.”

“The court cannot restrict a person’s freedom without good cause. This is not a matter to be taken lightly.”

“Certainly not, Your Honor. My clients take the matter most seriously. The fact is that the youngest child of the royal house is quite mad.”

I glanced at the Sforza gallery to see Arantxa with head up, staring straight ahead.

“What evidence are you presenting?”

“Your Honor, our evidence is entirely in the form of testimony and, because of the sensitive circumstance, we ask that it be heard privately, in chambers.”

The suggestion offered me some relief from the anxiety I was feeling on Arantxa’s behalf, and I chalked up a point of respect for Ms. Merriwether.

I turned to the defense table where a single, solitary figure waited to be addressed. It was the same figure that had left a vacancy in the clerk’s chair to my right.

“State your name and occupation,” I said, knowing full well that there was not a soul present who didn’t know him.

He buttoned his tweed jacket as he stood. “Lochlan Jois, Solicitor and Court Clerk, Your Honor.”

“You are acting counsel for the defense?”

“I am.”

“Where is your client?”

“For the very reason we are engaged in this hearing, my client, Naevia Howland Horn, cannot appear.”

“Are you suggesting that you agree with the assessment of her siblings, Solicitor Jois?”

“To the extent that she is unable to speak for herself, yes, Magistrate.”

A murmur began to swell into a chant in the courtroom. In less than a minute it had turned into a chant so loud it was hard to think. It sounded like they were saying, “Maddie. Maddie. Maddie.”

I looked toward Arantxa just in time to see that she had lost her signature composure. She looked angry enough to bring the house down, but that is not what she did.

With a slight wave of her hand, she caused a tiny storm cloud to appear at the ceiling of the courtroom then empty its ice-cold contents in a single, mighty gush. With a handful of notable exceptions, everybody in the room was soaked. They were also so shocked they couldn’t even manage a gasp.

It was amazing to see a foot of water with bits of floating ice in my courtroom.

The exceptions to which I referred earlier were the Howland Horn gallery and everyone from the bench forward. That included plaintiffs, defendant’s counsel, and Wall the court staff.

If there was anything more miraculous than Arantxa soaking the room in ice water, it was that she was able to be selective about who would get wet.

With a second tiny wave of her hand, the room emptied of water, was dry, and good as new. The fae occupants, however, were still wet. They were able to think themselves dry, but Arantxa had apparently decided they could do that for themselves.

I liked her even more.

How unnerving it is for these powerful beings to have such a wide band of cruelty running through their culture.

“Ms. Merriwether, I agree that we should proceed without audience. First, let me ask if you’re putting forward additional witnesses besides Princess Naevia’s siblings?”

“We are prepared to do so if necessary, Your Honor. They are present.”

“Very well. Sergeant Hengest, please clear the court except for primary parties.” To the crowd, I said, “Court will resume tomorrow morning.”

The gigantic foot-thick, arched doors closed when everyone had vacated other than the parties and the plaintiff’s witnesses, and the sound echoed through the almost empty space.

For the next two hours I listened to witnesses recall instances of strange behavior. Standing in pouring cold rain talking to no one. Having to be dragged from under her bed where she’d been hiding while not eating or drinking. Cutting all the blooms off the roses in her mother’s garden so that the scene looked like a floral massacre. Running naked through the palace while singing “Yellow Submarine” at the top of her lungs.

None seemed happy about sharing their experiences. At one point I noticed one of Naevia’s sisters wipe a tear away.

“The court finds that Naevia needs extra care and supervision, but will grant guardianship to one person at a time. Who wants to be responsible?”

The siblings engaged in what appeared to be a conversation that only they could hear. After a pause, the man seated next to Merriwether stood, “I do,” he said simply.

“And you are?”

“Wihtred. Oldest.”

“Do you have a plan for how best to care for Naevia and see to her needs?”

“Yes, Magistrate. We’ve had some time to think about it.”

“I’d like you to work with Solicitor Jois so that the court is reassured all is well.”

“Agreed, Your Honor.”

To Lochlan I said, “Does counsel for the defense agree to these terms?”

“Defense agrees, Magistrate.”

Before I banged my gavel, I added, “Your mother is likely to be anxious about Naevia’s future until she sees that you’ve created good solutions. Please be sympathetic.”

I took Wihtred’s nod as the end of the day in court and hoped to gods I’d done the right thing. I gave myself comfort with silent reassurance that Arantxa could always bring her own petition if she wasn’t pleased with Naevia’s care.

CHAPTER TWELVE  The Case of the Kludde Part Deux

I wanted to suppress a smile, but the best I could was to suppress a big smile when Maxfield Pteron took his place at the plaintiff’s table. In this case, there was no defendant. He was there to get the court’s permission to take custody of a renegade fae monster terrorizing human communities.

When I’d notified Lochlan that this case would be included, I’d said, “What is it with witches dying and leaving monsters unsupervised?”

He’d just shrugged and, really, what better answer could he offer?

“Mr. Pteron,” I said, “you’re here about the kludde?”

“Yes, Magistrate. It has made such a nuisance of itself that it can no longer be ignored. The Board requests permission to step in and assist with its capture.”

“What does that mean? Assist with its capture?”

Max looked momentarily confused. “We… Ah… The Board doesn’t have sufficient resources to organize such an event. The hunt perhaps. The capture?” He was shaking his head. “Definitely not.”

“What am I missing here? You want the court’s permission to assist with the capture, but you don’t want to facilitate the capture?”

“It’s not so much that we don’t want to as it is that we can’t.”

“Because…”

“We don’t have the ability to restrict this particular creature’s freedom.”

“I think I’m finally getting the picture. Do you have a suggestion as to who or what might be able to accomplish this task?”

His eyes went immediately to something on my left. Other than furniture, the only thing on my left was my sephalian.

“Court is in recess for half an hour.” I banged the gavel. “Counselor.” I looked at Max. “I’ll speak to you in chambers.”

“Alright, Magistrate.”

Victoria Danann ®

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