Empire 8

Melinda stared at Hesh as she sat across from the mouse fey at the kitchen table. Her dinner dress itched, but Melinda refused to scratch chalking it up to a minor unknown allergy. Hesh crammed whiskey soaked cereal into his mouth, until his cheeks puffed out obscenely. Chewing noisily, Hesh stared back at Melinda unblinking, which just added to the list of things that disturbed her about the man.

Melinda couldn’t see Hesh as he truly was; instead she viewed a very short and lithe man in his late twenties. Fire red hair, and near coal black beady eyes, dressed in a tattered leather duster and unwashed clothes. Melinda fidgeted tucking her legs back further under the chair, after feeling something coarse brush her shin for the third time. Clutching the cup of coffee in front of her, Melinda mentally muddled through the fog of the previous night and the morning.

Recalling that she was almost raped, Jarvis had saved her. The fight had been more brutal and very movie like. Amazing and almost dream woven, Melinda’s attacker had bled as if struck by a knife, but Jarvis did not have one to her recollection. The sex later was great, Jarvis was very dominating, nearly brutally so, almost animal like. Melinda however was puzzled when she wore one of Jarvis’s shirts as a sign of affection he grew very stern with her, telling Melinda to get dressed and go eat in the kitchen.

Melinda suspected it had something to do with the other girl, Ching. Perhaps Jarvis was already taken, and this Ching was his lover? Worry and pangs of jealousy rocked through her. Chewing her lip Melinda choked down a blush and noticed Hesh still had not blinked or taken his gaze off her.

Melinda realized there was something very wrong about these people. They did not fit with each other, from her brief observation of the four. Jarvis was a middle classed business man, Ching looked more suited working for a strip club than a moving company. Hawg looked like a burly biker that should be behind bars, and Hesh was obviously crazy. Yet they had a bond that went as deep as any close knit family. Melinda watched Jarvis pace back and forth in the loft over looking the kitchen, speaking on his cellphone.

Sipping her coffee, Melinda tried to converse with Hesh. “So what do you do in the company?” Melinda said with trepid curiosity.

Hesh replied with his mouthful of food. “I vuff the tuck” Swallowing quickly, Hesh said again. “I drive the truck.”

Smiling nervously, Melinda almost laughed. Hesh sounded like Beavis from that late night cartoon, Beavis and Asshat. Bluntly Hesh spoke, “You smell like you just mate-got fu-… uh, had sex.”

Melinda blushed furiously, her ears pounding from the rush of blood. Adjusting her glasses Melinda cleared her throat looking down at her coffee cup. Etiquette and discretion was obviously something foreign to Hesh leaving Melinda unsure how to proceed.

Changing the subject quickly, trying to angle the conversation to eventually get at Jarvis’s relationship status. Melinda said. “So how do you guys know each other? Do you all work here? This all seems a little odd. Who are you people exactly, you don’t look like a typical moving crew? No offense of course.” Silently Melinda prayed for Jarvis to end his call and come down and ‘rescue’ her from the encounter with Hesh.

Hesh pushed the bowl away, peering at Melinda across the table. Hesh fidgeted, rolling his hands over each other repeatedly, the man’s eyes shifted looking left to right and centered upon Melinda again. Melinda had a sense that she was about to peer into Pandora’s Box when Hesh said. “Do you really want to know?”

Melinda nodded her consent, watching Hesh carefully; unsure of what the man may do next. Hesh’s eyes riveted to Melinda, placing his hands on the edge of the table.

Hesh smirked, almost feral in expression, and said. “You asked for it. We all work here, because it is safe. On our own we might not do so well, get victimized or something. It is a nasty world out there; someone has to have your back in it. We know each other because there is no one else really worth knowing. We are nothing like you have ever met. You live your comfortable little life never even knowing what is truly out there among you. We are lovers and killers. We are legends and stories that your little mommy would tell you to keep you in line. We are what is left when the world embraces science and things like internet porn. We live here because this world is dying and ours is overcrowded. We help humans and torment them at the same time. Jarvis is a tiger. Ching is a wolf. Hawg is a pig. I’m a mouse. We’re fairies, stuff of myth. ”

Melinda leaned back in her chair and away from Hesh; the man was now literally crawling on the table top towards her as he spoke. Backing her chair up Melinda stood; Hesh had pushed her beyond nervousness and into terror. Backpedaling Melinda laughed weakly, “Really? That’s nice. I..I…I should be going.”

Melinda dashed off without waiting for a reply, racing through the makeshift halls, nearly shouldering the exit door in her frantic departure. Melinda ran awkwardly in high heels for five blocks, before getting to a taxi stand outside the Nugget casino in downtown Sparks. Leaping into the cab, Melinda babbled her address to the driver. Looking out the rearview window Melinda watched the warehouse she ran from fade into the distance.

Scratching at the side of her dinner dress, Melinda looked down seeing white hairs dotting her dress. Picking at one Melinda peered at it, hearing Hesh’s voice in her head. ‘Jarvis is a tiger.’ Melinda battled to keep hyperventilating, hugging her knees to her chest the entire ride home…

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Jarvis set down the cellphone, having been pacing and pretending to talk to someone for nearly half and hour. Calling down to Hesh, Jarvis said. “She gone?”

Hesh rolled over onto his back upon the table, knocking the bowl and Melinda’s coffee cup off. Shrugging his shoulders lightly, Hesh lounged, and said. “Oh yeah she is gone, for now. Something different about her though.”

Jarvis padded down the stairs, the tiger’s tail telegraphing his agitation. Standing at the side of the table looking down at Hesh, Jarvis said. “What did you tell her? What do you mean different?”

Lazily Hesh gripped his own tail and guided the point to his nostril. “She is curious. I told her the truth. I..” Hesh squeaked as Jarvis gripped the mouse’s throat, the tiger’s lone eye boring into Hesh. The grip slowly tightened, causing Hesh’s eyes to bulge.

Jarvis snarled, “You what? We just had a visit from the Sidhe! They have an eye upon us now, and you told her?!?!”

Hesh clawed at the paw around his throat, it was exciting and terrifying at the same time. Rasping, Hesh said. “I…I…She thinks I am crazy, you wanted her gone…I did it. Lemme go! …You owe me for the…task!”

Jarvis had that all too familiar look in his eye, teeth bared, the tiger’s ears flattened. Jarvis really wanted to eat someone, instinct openly struggling to reach the surface and take over. Hesh took a hand and started rummaging in his coat pocket desperately, closing around the puppet pawed fingers working blindly to enter the puppet. Raising Hesh partially Jarvis knocked the back of the fey mouse’s head into the table top. By sheer will the tiger released Hesh, growling as he turned his back to his companion. “Granted and paid.” Jarvis said.

Hesh rolled off the table, rubbing his throat, his other pawed hand withdrawing from the coat pocket. Coughing, Hesh said with now watering eyes, “Good…Glad to hear it boss.”

Jarvis closed his eye, shoulders spring tight with tension. A few deep breaths sounded, as the big cat rumbled. “I wonder what goes through your mind when you do these things, Hesh.” Jarvis said tightly.

Taking precautionary cover under the table from the big cat; Hesh coughed lightly before speaking. “That makes two of us.”

Jarvis chuckled to himself, though when Hesh stuck his snout out from under the table, the tiger growled sending the mouse fey ducking back under. Jarvis would keep Hesh under the table for a few more minutes, just enough to keep the instinct of playing with potential food satisfied.

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Greyson fumed inside, sitting at the opposite end a long table with Queen Bora in his seat at the head. His seat! The polite façade was something Greyson practiced often enough. Keeping his expression plain, he plotted the Queen’s ruin a hundred different ways. Like all Sidhe, Greyson was stunningly handsome, body modeled well beyond human ideal and perfection. Greyson was over two hundred years old, but being Shidhe that meant little.

Unlike most Greyson was not afraid of Queen Bora, he was envious of her, and that made him angry. Tommy Valentine sat to Greyson’s right and Reiner on the queen’s right. Tommy Valentine winced every time he had to adjust himself in his chair. Brushing a imaginary speck of lint from the sleeve of his hand tailored suit, Greyson glowered at Tommy. The Sidhe could only shrug and wince when the motion concluded.

Queen Bora lazily looked over the stack of files placed before her, wanting to see records of favors owed to the court, back taxes, even the mortal vassal budget. The table filled as more Sidhe entered, some pale with worry, others in awe to be in a queen’s presence. Closing the file, Queen Bora yawned and lounged in the seat, seeming to know Greyson’s ire about the temporary shift in power.

Keeping his eyes downcast, Greyson spoke, “I assume everything is in order, my queen?”

Sighing languidly, Queen Bora turned her razor covered eyes towards Greyson. Bora drew the silence out with practiced patience, letting the other Sidhe grow nervous before she said, “Everything is perfect.” upon hearing the collective sigh the queen continued. “Too perfect.”

Greyson adjusted his tie before daring a glance up at Queen Bora, “Too perfect, my queen?” Greyson said cautiously.

“You run this city much like a human business. There are no noble aspirants, no threats to speak of. No gallantry. Where is the heart in all this?” The Queen said airly.

Clearing his throat, Greyson took a breath, “My Queen. Please understand that we have had to adapt to survive here. We have no lost our hearts; it is had to change with the way of the human world.” Greyson said.

Greyson maneuvered himself into the mind set of this meeting being a political trap. Queen Bora was acting almost paradoxical to what he had heard of her. Queen Bora drummed the finger tips of her free hand upon the table. Smiling slightly with a malicious glint, Bora said. “Does that explain the phenomenal luck we have had in the Wild Hunt? Yes we are born to succeed but fifty years without a change of the crown, intriguing. Word of this ‘streak’ has reached the highest councils. You should be proud of that.”

Worry rippled through Greyson, not able to help himself from shifting in the seat uncomfortably. Composing his words, Greyson said. “My Queen, I am honored to hear those words. We make the selection by sacred lottery, and compete fairly as is the old ways.” Insufferable bitch! This was a trap, and nearly inescapable one at that.

Queen Bora let her smile fade, replacing it with regal blankness as she spoke, “Duke Greyson. I have heard rumor that our lower ilk do not partake in the event. Is this true?”

Tommy glanced at Greyson and remained painfully silent. Greyson let the queen’s words sink in, his response he felt was a gamble. Putting pride to his voice, Greyson said. “I have heard these rumors as well, and they are just that. Rumors. Not that I would blame them, how could they not lose heart when facing their superiors, my Queen?”

Drawing her fingers back from the table Queen Bora closed them slowly into a fist. Speaking plainly the Queen said. “I am pleased these are mere rumors, Duke Greyson. We must dispel these rumors, and inspire those that doubt to greater heights. Too many human cities lay empty of our kind, or have discarded the old ways completely. We look to you to change that. Inspire the hearts of the other fey, make this hunt a tale worth telling.”

Unbelievable! The Queen was clearly here to ruin him! This was an outrage! Still there was nothing he could do…for the moment. The lottery was to be held tomorrow, he needed a suitable candidate, and quickly. Greyson, balked before bowing his head, keeping his voice steady and said. “As you wish, my Queen.”

Empire 7

Ching laughed dashing out the door to the warehouse, she was elated having gotten away with teasing Jarvis. Ching’s tail thumping happily against the side door of her dented Studebaker, as Ching waited for Hawg to catch up. After the encounter with Reiner, Jarvis’s ‘date’ had come down stairs dressed in only one of the big cat’s shirts. Ching had been kind enough to point out to a puzzled Jarvis that in human customs Melinda had laid claim to him. That failed to sit well with Jarvis and he ordered Ching out to go check on Marie, and to take Hawg with her. The big cat mentioned something about wanting them to keep the other out of trouble. That suited Ching just fine, let Jarvis worry about Hesh and this Melinda human.

Hawg lumbered out and made a disgruntled face seeing the car. Ching smiled winningly at the boar fey, wiggling the keys. Still in a teasing mood Ching said to Hawg. “I get to drive. Unless you wanna; all you have to do is just say so!”

Silently the boar removed his gaze from the car to the sky, shoulders hunching slightly. The boar’s nearly jaundice yellow eyes narrowing, a snuffle of Hawg’s snout followed. Ching searched for the source of Hawg’s distraction, sniffing the air in turn. Ching’s ears canted forward, “Snow? In the middle of June?” she said.

Hawg still said nothing as the air was filled with a flurry of flakes. His small movements grew wary, as if the boar was being backed into a corner with no visible escape. Ching instinctively tucked her tail back, having never felt anything like the presence in the air. Whatever it was it drowned her joy like a ant hill introduced to kerosene. Hawg looked to Ching and motioned towards the warehouse with a glance.

Ching shook her head, and said somewhat curious and frightened. “No way, I’m not going back in there, he’s rip roaring mad. Sides we have a job to do.”

Reno was notorious for odd weather yet there was something else to it this time around, Ching thought. Ching was certain Hawg knew more than he telling, and she intended to torment the boar about it; if anything to keep her mind of how nervous she suddenly felt.

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True to her word Ching babbled at Hawg the entire trip. Growing frustrated, Ching had failed to elicit any more than the occasional look, snort or grunt from Hawg. Ching figured Hawg must be in his own private hell, constant questions, trapped in the car which she knew from experience made him nervous. That seemed to cheer the wolf slightly. Ching was keenly aware that Hawg viewed cars as restricting and obstructive, thus why he rode a motorcycle.

Sticking her tongue out in a mocking look to the fey boar, she said. “You are so not fun. I have anger issues, and you have obvious communication issues. You need to loosen up; I mean really, if you let some of those pent up words out you would feel so much better. I mean, don’t you have a hobby? All you do is work and brood, and ….occasionally steal babies.”

Ching baited her last words, searching for any reaction. Hawg snorted in response, the last statement caused an eye twitch. Sighing crestfallen Ching scratched behind her ear, and said. “One day, Hawg. One day you are going to let someone in and I will be there to see it.”

The two left the car, standing before a one story house in the outskirts of Sparks. The neighborhood had seen better days, the streets in poor repair many of the houses had for sale signs planted in their lawns. The yellow vinyl siding of the house was aged and screamed to be replaced. The lawn was ill kept, besieged by dandelions, and a row of out of control rose bushes. The snow had stopped, moments before their arrival, moistening the ground as it melted.

Ching rang the door bell, tapping her foot impatiently, Hawg standing behind her. The door opened revealing a dark haired girl. Her skin was fair, dressed in black jeans and t-shirt; she looked at most the age of fifteen. Leather bracelets with steel stubs adorned her slender wrists. Recognition flared as the girl broke into a smile, and said. “Ching!”

Ching grappled Marie into a hug and licked the girl’s cheek in greeting. Hawg took a half step back to avoid the two as they giggled and ruffled each others hair; the boar’s expression grew slightly thoughtful. Inside Hawg smiled, though it would never reach his snout.

Marie was the product of a human and a fey coupling. It was said only lower court fey could mate with humans and have a sliver of a chance of producing a child. Marie was Jarvis’s niece; her mother died giving birth to the girl. Marie’s father, Jarvis’s brother had fled the city as news of Marie’s birth had gotten out to the residing fey.

Marie was a walking taboo, she showed no features of the beast fey, and as far as anyone knew the girl possessed no magics other than being able to see the fey as they truly were. The courts had decided to let her live; albeit reluctantly. Marie was to be watched, admittedly most of the cities fey had never encountered such a being and they were curious about how a fey and human half breed, progressed and developed. Jarvis had stepped up to watch over Marie, setting the girl with foster parents, the best his bribes and intimidation could find. One of the quartet always came to visit Marie like clockwork, every Sunday at noon. Marie’s foster parents knew to vacate the house around this time, often using excuses of shopping or going on a mid day date, leaving the trio to themselves.

Marie dashed Hawg’s train of thought by lightly hugging the boar around the massive arm. Cheerfully Marie said, “Hawg! Epic to see you as always!” Hawg snorted lightly in reply. In some ways Marie was as bad as Ching with her incessant chattering; yet, the girl had an endearing quality upon the boar fey.

Hawg let Ching and Marie chatter on as they entered the house. The décor was plain almost monk like with its sparse furnishings. Jarvis had offered to fill the house with lavish accessories only to be turned down frantically by Marie’s intimidated foster parents. The beast fey tended to have that effect even inadvertently.

Ching and Marie took to the kitchen leaving Hawg alone in the small foyer of the house. The boar cast a glance towards the kitchen before moving silently down the hall and into Marie’s bedroom. Posters of metal music bands plastered the walls at odd angles, a myriad of screaming faces encased in leather and spikes. Marie had left her laptop open, Hawg made sure the two were preoccupied with the other before gingerly tapping the mouse pad sending the screen alight.

Hawg squinted seeing a chat box was open on the display. Marie was in the middle of chatting with a boy. Scrolling through the conversation, could see it was casual flirting on her part, but the boy was very eager and pressing to meet Marie. The boy went by the name, T-Heart, a fake name Hawg assumed or a street label that some younger humans seemed to enjoy using. Hawg did not feel guilty about prying; he was only looking after Marie and her well being. Still Hawg had no desire to be caught, and shut the chat window.

Looking towards Marie’s bed Hawg let a grin out, seeing an array of stuffed animals. A wolf, a bangle tiger, an oversized mouse and a brown bear with tusks sown on neatly arranged next to her pillow. Looking at his pawed hands recalling all the times he pricked his fingers trying to get those tusks sown on to the stuffed bear. Hawg settled on the bear after failing to find a stuffed boar. There were of course pigs, pink and friendly, but to have a pig represent him was an insult. Hawg noted the noises from the kitchen had ceased, a quick snuffle of his snout told Hawg that Marie was behind him at the doorway.

Marie leaned on the doorway, the question formed as it always did when Hawg came over. “Hawg. Have you heard from my father?” Marie said with distant longing.

Hawg felt a thick clump on his palms, as if his hands were still caked with dried blood. Slowly turning Hawg hid behind steeled composure to face Marie. What was he to say? How could he tell his charge that her father tried to kill her to save his own miserable life? Or that Hawg found her father first and gored him from behind? Hawg’s throat drew tight with guilt, a hundred mental iron needles sought to keep him from speaking at all.

“Nothing yet.” Hawg croaked. “Sorry.” Hawg added.

Marie sighed and shrugged, sitting on the edge of her bed. “It’s ok. I know I ask a lot, and he probably won’t come back, but I wanna know. You were the last one to see him before he left.”

Hawg glanced over his shoulder, causing Marie to roll her eyes and giggled. Marie said. “Don’t worry, Ching is out back sunning herself. Just you and me.”

Hawg snuffled, before correcting Marie. “You and I.”

Marie patted a spot on the bed next to her for Hawg to join her. Shaking her head at the correction Hawg made, Marie replied. “I know. I just like to hear you talk. When you do. Ching told me you stole a baby, is that true?”

Hawg hunched down and winced feeling the bed creak under his bulk, silence building up around him. Folding his pawed hands, Hawg considered what to tell Marie, settling on the truth Hawg said. “I gave a child a chance.” Just like I did for you; Hawg mentally completed the statement to himself.

So the conversation went, Marie asking questions and Hawg giving short, limited answers, as always.

Empire 6

Reiner adjusted his rear view mirror at the stop light, his mind split on the matter with the beasts. On one hand Reiner actually liked them; they were good fey; minus the trouble with humans they seemed to cause. Upon the other hand, the noble inside him seethed. They lied to him openly and his hands were tied on the matter; all Reiner could do was point out what he partially knew of their crimes. Perhaps they would slip up, that quartet was very tightly knit in ways Reiner found endearing and frustrating.

The car being stolen and wrecked was Hesh’s style, but why? It could attract unwanted human attention the way it was destroyed in such a spectacular fashion. Ching most likely had the encounter with Valentine, the wounds the fellow Sidhe received would be her style. Assault on a noble, was a death sentence. No matter how much the local populace wanted Valentine gone. The break in at Area 42 could be Hawg, but the Under Folk refused to indentify the vandal. Restitution was the usual outcome for crimes of that sort.

The most puzzling was the abduction of the human infant, Jarvis was the prime suspect, being a repressed cannibal, but the big cat was a hunter and hated guns. If news of the abduction became public knowledge or if information fell into the wrong hands it could spell doom for the beast fey. Reiner would do his duty regardless but he would be absolutely certain on that matter before acting upon it.

Humans could learn some of fey magic, if they were trained young enough. Or they could be taught the ways of the fey, and how to hunt the fey. Reiner shook his head, hands death gripped on the wheel, forcing the thoughts from his mind. Reiner did want to consider the possibilities, yet he did. The traffic light turned green, Reiner moved his foot to press the accelerator, only to stop cold, frozen in place.

A single snow flake struck the windshield, sticking. Reiner was captivated by its beauty, every fractal glittering, unique and riveting his attention. It was the middle of June, but the sight held a timeless quality. Reiner felt a shiver roll up his spine, something large was stepping into this world from Fairy, or more likely… someone.

The world exploded into sound, cars horns blaring; Reiner’s cellphone began to chime. Pressing through the light, Reiner could not even wave apologetically to the drivers behind him, groping for the phone Reiner ground the walls of the car tires on the curb pulling over to answer the call. The single flake had melted only to be avenged by hundreds, thousands more building into a flurry from the nearly cloudless sky. A quick intake of breath to compose himself and Reiner said. “Captain Reiner.”

The male voice on the other end mirrored Reiner’s rattled composure and said. “Queen Bora just arrived, unannounced. We are ill prepared to have such a prestigious guest in our fiefdom. You know the queen best, Greyson says you are to be her escort until we can assemble a feast and proper lodgings for the queen.”

Stammering Reiner felt the pit of his stomach drop, and said. “Bu-wha-uh. I am twenty minutes out.”

There was a long pause on the phone as obviously the information was being relayed. The voice came back, quick and stern. “Greyson says to use that time to think of an excuse as to why you were late to receive the Queen’s arrival.”
Before Reiner could protest the messenger hung up. Reiner sighed, wanting nothing more than to rest his head on the steering wheel, but there was no time for that. Fighting traffic and the thickening flurry of snow would only add to the travel time. That time could quite possibly be now borrowed. It would all hinge on the mood the Queen was in.

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Reiner still could not conjure an excuse as his car skidding into the parking lot of the business complex. The Sidhe each had their individual homes, but held and conducted court in a villa styled shopping center. High end boutiques were firmly entrenched here; every hedge and flower in the bordering gardens perfectly tended, marking it a place of social class and difference.

Reiner could easily pick out the shop the Queen was likely in. It was the one people were leaving from in disguised haste. Shaking off his nervousness Reiner put purpose to his stride, letting his booted feet clack against the pavement, rhythmic and strong. If he was to be chided or punished for his supposed tardiness Reiner would meet it with all the dignity he could muster.

Entering the shop the walls screamed with knick knacks over populating shelves and gathered in various baskets. The air carried a chill that could be considered unnatural as did the voice of the Queen that flitted through it. Queen Bora stood before the register counter, whispering to the shop clerk. Queen Bora’s presence seemed to take up the entire room easily cowing the clerk.

Dressed in dirty riding silks of black and white, her beauty so striking the queen could easily be considered unearthly and androgynous. Tilting her head, stark raven hair spilling down Queen Bora’s shoulders from under the dented rider’s helmet, the ends stirred by unseen chilling breeze. Shifting her stance gracefully the Queen’s perfectly polished boots caught untraceable light. The movement revealing her left boot was torn at the ankle, as if she had fallen from a horse and had been drug for a long distance. Leaning closer to the shop clerk, she held a large silvered straight razor over her eyes as if they were opera stemmed glasses.

Queen Bora regaled the tall fat man with tales of his personal fears and fate in hushed yet very sure tones. Queen Bora retold the clerk about his father dying at a young age, leaving the clerk wanting competition of father to son guidance. Moving on to the clerk’s fear of being trapped in a city that held no future for him, no matter how many vices he delved in to deny it. Queen Bora dismantled any shred of defense the man had built to hide his low self image. The clerk was not only fat, he would become fatter, his joints would give out, leaving him unable to do anything other than be a leech upon the city as long as he remained in its bounds. Everyday would be a shadow that chased and hounded him.

Broken the clerk bore the expression of a glassy eyed shock, as the Queen stepped back expressionless. Slowly Queen Bora turned to Reiner the clerk instantly forgotten; it took every ounce of willpower for the Sidhe not to flinch before the Queen. Her angelic statuesque features only enhanced Reiner’s feeling of being well beneath her in station.

Reiner awaited the Queen to address him, remembering his previous encounter with Queen Bora. Six drug addicts had overdosed and died on a mountain of narcotics the queen provided them for her amusement. It took nearly a week to dispose of the bodies from the penthouse suite of the high rise casino in downtown. Of course Reiner had been selected to take charge of the task having been her escort.

One of the many queens of winter, Bora submerged herself with spreading depression, suicides and often encouraged people to end their misery. Queen Bora loved to see humans torture themselves and on special occasion even fey do the same. Queen Bora whispered but her voice carried clearly as it said. “Captain Julius Reiner. I have been waiting to be greeted.”

Reiner took a knee instinctively, bowing his head. Nervously, Reiner said. “I beg your forgiveness my Queen. I can offer no suitable explanation for my tardiness.”

Minutely Queen Bora canted her head forward, eyes still hidden by the large silvered straight razor. “Rise Captain Reiner. I understand my arrival was unannounced, and that you were… How do the humans put it again? Ah yes, you were thrown under the bus.”

Reiner rose to his feet, keeping his eyes down cast submissively. Humbly Reiner asked. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence my queen?”

Queen Bora remained expressionless, her features blank and beautiful. Her voice angelic and lacking emotion. “I am here to witness the Wild Hunt. I seldom get to Reno, and I am very curious about a few things.”

Reiner dared a look up, puzzled. “Curious my Queen? As to what I might ask?” Reiner said, already regretting the answer that may come. Reiner’s mind spun in a dozen directions and centered on the infant abduction he confronted the beasts about. Reiner had told no one and even hindered the police report from being filed. How could she have known? Did she know?

Sensing Reiner’s unease Queen Bora flicked slight smile. Like a cat playing with a mouse the queen drew upon the silence allowing it to build and form into tension. Finally when Queen Bora was certain Reiner was about a hairs breathe from soiling himself with worry, she spoke. “Take me to Lord Greyson. He will answer the questions I have; you can stop fretting, Captain Reiner.”

The queen glided towards the door pausing to add a pair of words that re-shook Reiner’s resolve. “For now.”

Empire 5

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The sun rose slowly brushing away the coolness of night. Its light crept over the warehouse, streaming through available windows. Hesh stirred from his face down position on the hood of his semi truck. Hesh yawned and whined lightly, eyes adjusting from their sleepy state. Pushing himself up the fey mouse yawned again, scratching his head. “Ah, I made it home.” Hesh’s own words caused the fey mouse to freeze. He did not recall driving home, squeaking Hesh scrambled along the hood of the semi to the open window, looking inside the cab of the truck. Suspiciously Hesh eyed the glove box, and let out a relieved sigh. It was still closed, and Hesh knew Otto was still inside.

Jumping down from the truck Hesh opened the door to the warehouse. The warehouse was huge, its make shift halls constructed by moving crates. Furniture of nearly every taste filled the warehouse. Sometimes humans couldn’t pay for the cost of moving, or did not want the furnishings. So the Empire Movers stored them, occasionally giving some of the objects away to less fortunate humans. Making his way towards the kitchen Hesh caught sight of Ching, her ears were craning about, and nose to the air. Half waving to her, Hesh said. “Morning.”

Ching waved back distractedly, before addressing the fey mouse. “Hesh. Did you bring a baby in here? I swear I smell one.”

Hesh shrugged, “Uh. Not that I know of.” Hesh prayed that he did not. Ambling over to Ching, Hesh sniffed the air. “You smell like burned herbs.” A glare from Ching prompted Hesh to change the subject to the previous. “Uh. I don’t smell a baby. I smell an adult human though.” Taking a deep sniff of the air, “Female too.” Hesh remarked.

Squinting Ching studied Hesh a moment before nodding. “Yeah she arrived before I did. She’s in Jarvis’s room.”

The fey mouse grinned, “I see he took my idea to heart, yippy skippy.”

Ching snorted, “Your idea? It was MY idea.”

The two playfully argued and set off to the kitchen. Hawg was already seated at the table, reading a worn copy of the mechanics almanac. Silent as usual Hawg nodded greeting to the two without looking up from the book. Ching scrunched up her muzzle sniffing the air once more. “I swear I smell a baby in here.”

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Jarvis opened his lone eye, stretching in his lavish king sized bed. Awkwardness seized the big cat; spying Melinda’s arm draped over his chest. Jarvis had taken her back to the warehouse, not knowing what else to do after Melinda had fainted. Melinda had awoken in the early morning and proceeded to clumsily kiss upon Jarvis. Kissing led to other activities which Jarvis was not adept at, yet Melinda didn’t seem to mind. The encounter was curious, slow going, far too gentle, yet pleasant. Jarvis could see an inkling of what Ching spoke of when it came to sex with humans, but it was something he was determined not to make a habit of.

Slowly moving Melinda’s arm off his chest, Jarvis looked out the window of the upstairs loft. The city was waking up, the sky partially overcast. The air smelled fresh, well fresh for a city. Jarvis’s indulgence of the city-scape was short lived noting a green sedan pulling into the parking lot of the warehouse. Grumbling, Jarvis padded to the balcony of the loft which over looked the kitchen. “We have company.” Jarvis said.

The trio in the kitchen glanced at each other. Ching sighed, standing first. Hesh clutched a bowl of corn flakes and began to pour whiskey on to the flakes followed by Tabasco sauce. Stirring the bowl Hesh followed Ching. Hawg set down the almanac and silently left out the back entrance.

Jarvis waited until Hawg ducked back in the entrance flashing the big cat the all clear sign. Jarvis nodded and headed down the stairs to greet the visitor.

***** ***** ***** ***** **** ***** **** **** ****

Julius Reiner leaned on the door of the sedan, his perfectly tanned skin nearly aglow in the morning sun. Dashing grey eyes almost off set his bronze Adonis appearance. The sidhe had volunteered to speak to the beasts; it seemed they accepted his presence over others of his kind. Reiner had always been decent and even sympathetic to the beasts and their endeavors.

Reiner adjusted the slender file under his arm as the door to the warehouse opened. All four beasts stepped out in various states of dress with Jarvis at the head. Reiner smiled winningly, and said “Good morning to you all.”

Ching called out to Reiner, “Hey asshole light. It’s always good to see you.”

Reiner tensed even though he was used to the verbal abuse by the wolfress. Jarvis cocked his head to the side, striding forward, pushing the previous night’s pain away. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Captain Reiner?”

The handsome sidhe chuckled, shaking his head softly. “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” The games were about to begin; he had verbally danced with this quartet before. They were a cagy bunch, and often rode the very edge of fey law. Reiner set the file down upon the hood of the sedan, keeping a hand upon it to deter the wind from taking it.

Continuing, Reiner said. “As you well know the Wild Hunt is almost upon us once again. You are of course expected to show up for the lottery to hear the name of the quarry as is mandatory. You are also expected to participate to the best of your ability.” Hesh snorted, causing Reiner to raise a brow. Hesh nearly doubled over pretending to sneeze.

Jarvis shrugged lightly, looking about searching for something. Speaking to Reiner the big cat rumbled, “We are aware. Same place every year. I suspect this is not the only reason you are here, am I correct?”

Reiner flashed another dazzling smile, and tapped the end of his nose and said airily. “Correct.” Opening the file, Reiner read the contents. “There have been some strange happenings within the area as of late. Do any of you have any idea why someone would steal a car and plunge it into the driving range lake at the Grand Sierra? No? How about, a hotel shooting that left one human dead and other in the hospital in critical condition, with a missing infant to go along with it?”

Reiner could almost feel their guilt, but unless they gave some outward sign there was nothing he could do but ask questions. Glancing at the four Reiner resumed reading the file. “The Under Folk of Area 42 lodged a complaint that someone had broken into their compound and attempted to…as they put it, quote ‘violate their technologies’. I suppose none of you know anything about that either?”

Catching Jarvis’s wandering look, Reiner said with a slight edge to his voice, “If you are looking for my partner, I came here alone. Not by choice mind you. Apparently Sergeant Valentine ran afoul of a rogue gang of fey from another city. He will be fine for the Wild Hunt, but is recovering from wounds upon his….delicacy.”

Jarvis let his expression grow blank, “Rogue gang of fey? Damn shame.”

Reiner daringly stepped up to Jarvis, his eyes compassionate as always but his words carried steel. “Yes, damn shame indeed. If I find out that any of you had involvement with any of these occurrences a price will be extracted. One that I don’t think many of you can pay more than once.” Reiner said.

Jarvis bristled at the threat, understanding the Sidhe before him was attempting to be as fair as possible.  Calming himself Jarvis nodded, and said. “We understand. If we can be of assistance, all you need do is call upon us.”

Reiner snapped the file shut, turning from Jarvis indicating the conversation was over, Returning to his car Reiner pulled away. Reiner liked the beasts, but duty was duty. He knew about their antics, he just did not know what crime belonged to which beast. The first fact should curb their activities for a few weeks, just enough time for the courts to forget about past actions, Reiner thought.

***** ***** ***** ***** ****** ****** ***** ***** ****** *****

Jarvis waved at the dust the sedan kicked up, stifling a cough. Turning to the other three Jarvis waited expectantly. Hesh stuffed the tip of his tail up his nostril. Ching looked to be examining her fingernails. Hawg was even looking away from the big cat. Clearing his throat, Jarvis said. “Fine, I will go first. I did Valentine, I had no choice.”

Hesh scratched at his jeans, and then began to scratch his head. “Area 42 over here. No choice.”

Sighing Ching huffed, “The car is mine. I had a choice.”

The wind swirled as the awkward silence built up again. Hesh, Ching and Jarvis turned their gaze to Hawg. Ching’s expression broke into amusement, as she addressed the boar coyly. “You? Really? A baby?”

Hawg slowly turned his gaze to Jarvis, expression nearly blank. Hesh quipped, “That’s mega balls, Hawg.”

Jarvis balled a pawed fist, his voice grating with anger. “Not to mention trouble for all of us. Why did you do that?”

Hawg let his gaze to pan along the ground; he wasn’t ashamed of the action. Snapping a look up to Jarvis, the boar’s usual blank expression fell away to disgusted dismay. The boar maybe spoke a dozen words a year; his voice creaked with lack of use. “The baby had no choice with them. I gave it one.”

Hawg for the first time Jarvis could recall walked away first, leaving the trio with nothing to say. Jarvis pawed his chin thoughtfully, still angry but he could not argue, if Hawg spoke it was a certainty. Hesh made himself scarce muttering something about tuning up the engine on the semi.  Ching smirked and shrugged, heading back into the warehouse, leaving Jarvis to stand alone.

 

Empire 4

Jarvis reclined in the seat at the table, the chair groaning under the weight. His lone eye never leaving the woman across from him, Jarvis was obviously staring now. The woman fidgeted under his predatory gaze looking around then to the table top once again. The music droned on, nonsense romantic music to Jarvis’s tiger ears. Jarvis squinted slightly watching the woman’s breathing; Jarvis had already forgotten her name, causing him to look down at the slip of paper in his pawed hand. Monica.

Monica opened her mouth to speak when the music cut off, and a bell rang. The DJ took the mike and said. “Ok, ladies and gentleman. You know what that means, time to switch.” Monica flashed an insecure smile and gratefully excused herself quickly. Jarvis watched the woman leave, taking up a golf pencil which was ridiculously small in his massive hand. Jarvis scribbled next to Monica’s name, ‘Nice throat. Too skin.” Looking over the list of names of those the fey tiger had already met. Bianca, rump roast. Gladdy, too chewy. Kelly, false chest. Sarah, has a plump sister, find the sister later. Looking at the title on the card, embossed in gold which read ‘Speed Dating’ Jarvis crossed out the word ‘dating’ and wrote in ‘feast’ under it. Speed feast.

Jarvis had been talked into the idea by, Ching. Saying the grumpy tiger needed to get out more and be social. Humans were not all bad, to which Jarvis had to agree, a few in the room looked very tasty. Jarvis felt his hackles rise up; he was not the only predator here. Turning in his chair slightly, Jarvis settled his limited gaze on the fey in the far corner. The pale dark haired Sidhe was looking back at Jarvis, a smirk cemented upon his angelic face. The Sidhe’s eyes glittered darkly, lithe corded muscles flexed and postured, raising a drink slightly in mock salute to the Bengal tiger fey.

Jarvis knew this one. Everyone in the courts did, Tommy Valentine. Jarvis nodded slowly towards the Sidhe. Valentine had a puzzling habit in Jarvis’s opinion. Where Jarvis battled occasionally with wanting to eat humans, Tommy liked to rape them, frequently. Why? What was the point? Tommy’s reputation was low even among his own kind, all the fey were keenly aware of his habits. The courts overlooked it because Tommy was smart enough not to sexually assault another fey. Or at least he had yet to be caught at it, Jarvis thought.

Having sex with humans was something that Jarvis rarely thought about, he was often too rough with them anyways. Ching had tried to explain it to Jarvis, going to great lengths on how it felt and how humans reacted to it. It was some sort of complex ritual involving flowers, alcohol, candy, and listening to music. A clearing of a throat brought Jarvis’s attention back to the table.

Across from the Fey tiger a small waif of a woman was now sitting. Black dinner dress that ill fit her tiny frame, the garment was cinched down with a broad silver ribbon around her waist. Thick black rimmed glasses, the left brace of her glasses were subtly taped. She wasn’t much taller than Hesh, maybe five foot two to Hesh’s four eleven, Jarvis mused. Not much more than a mouthful or two.

Chewing her lip the waif stuck out her hand, palm down introducing herself. “Hi, I am Melinda. My friends call me, Mel.” Jarvis had to consciously control his strength, engulfing the tiny hand in his massive pawed one. What comes next, Jarvis’s mind ticked through the process of what humans seemed to like. Raising the hand to his maw, Jarvis could smell the chemicals that imitated roses on Melinda. Jarvis couldn’t bring himself to kiss the offered hand, and gently lowered it. The tiger’s voice rumbled deep with a subdued predatory edge. “Jarvis. It is nice to meet you, Melinda.”

The social awkwardness only seemed to spur Melinda on, she asked questions Jarvis found nearly obtuse. Do you dance? What is your favorite band? What do you do for a living? Melinda openly stared at Jarvis’s eye patch; the big cat could tell she was going to ask for the story behind it.

Jarvis fought to keep up answering the questions briskly. He did not dance. He preferred the harpsichord to modern music. Falling back on his mirror life, he informed Melinda he owned a moving company near the train tracks of downtown Sparks, Nevada. Jarvis learned that Melinda was a teachers aide at one of the local high schools in Reno.

Nearly half the fey in the city had a mirror life. Some sort of job in the world of humans, the fey referred to it as their ‘mirror life’. It helped cast the reflection of normalcy for the humans in a realm that had strange laws, odd customs and bizarre brief holidays that contained an over abundance of build up towards it. Christmas came once a year, but it took humans two and half months to get prepared for it.

Melinda giggled; bringing Jarvis back once again to the present. The tiger blinked, he had forgotten to let go of Melinda’s hand throughout the conversation. Melinda’s smile grew bright and wide, finishing up some tale about her parents and its tie to the event that Melinda and Jarvis were attending. “Like my mother always says, if you want something you have to go get it. What better place to get a variety of what I could like than a place like this.” Melinda said, adding a wink.

Jarvis finally felt himself smile, a throaty purr in response to Melinda’s half heard story. “I agree. This is a good place to…hunt. It is the greatest feeling to stalk, corner, and then pounce. To see what hidden is hidden in your prey’s eyes.” Jarvis could smell something odd coming from Melinda, her cheeks were red, and her eyes dove to downcast. Seconds ticked by as Jarvis came to a realization. Melinda enjoyed being pursued, it aroused her, it did not cause her fear. Once again the bell rang, saving Jarvis from mystifying thoughts.

The DJ spoke over the microphone. “So folks that is a wrap to your speed dating. We hope you all have made the connections that will change your life! Please collect your response cards at the front and see who is interested in seeing you again!”

Melinda rose causing Jarvis to look up as she gently removed her hand from his own. Melinda’s smile flashed again as people began to mill about behind her. “It was nice to meet you, Jarvis. I, uh, wouldn’t mind running into you sometime. Someplace a little less, crowded?”

Jarvis cocked his head, arching a furred brow asking curiously. “Like a dark alley?”

Melinda balked then laughed, bracing her hands on the table top leaning over, kissing the tiger fey on the cheek, “You are so funny. I’m marking you as a yes.” With that, Melinda walked away, her slender hips swaying awkwardly. Jarvis stood and replaced the chair close to the table. Flicking a glance towards Valentine’s table Jarvis observed the Sidhe had already left, yet Jarvis could still smell the faux noble.

Standing in line, Jarvis finally got his response cards. Flitting through the cards, Jarvis found less than appealing results. ‘No’.’ No.’ ‘Come near me again I will taser you.’ ‘Hell no!’ ‘I am now a lesbian because of you.’ ‘Yes. Call me, 457-5608, Melinda.’ Tucking the positive response card in his tuxedo pocket, Jarvis cast the others in the garbage. Well, the night was not a complete waste of time, Jarvis thought.

**** ***** ***** ***** ***** **** **** ***** ***** ***** **** *****

Melinda freshened up in the club’s bathroom. Reapplying her lipstick, she giggled and snatched up her cellphone. Calling her closest friend, “Yeah. It was ok, there were a few creeps. Did I meet anyone? Well…there was this one guy, he was smoking hot. A little strange but really hot. We are talking through the roof hot.”

Sitting on the counter to the sink, Melinda spilled all the details. “He is tall, like six six I think. White guy, salt and pepper hair, almost striped like one of those Bangle tigers. He has one green eye, and a patch over the other. Muscles for days. I hope he calls me back. Ok I am on my way home. I’ll give you a call when I get there.”

Setting the phone back in her purse Melinda, chewed her lip, her stomach aflutter as she replayed her encounter with Jarvis. Looking to the lights, Melinda murmured, “If there is a god let that man call me.”

Making her way through the club, Melinda had been forced to park in the back of the club, as the main parking lot was full. Striding with new found confidence and elated thoughts Melinda wound her way around the corner of the building. Suddenly Melinda found herself shoved into the broad side of a dumpster, knocking the wind from her. A hand clamped over Melinda’s mouth, her now struggling arm pinned behind her. Panic flowed through Melinda as she was overpowered, being dragged from behind.

A smooth and charming voice in Melinda’s ear said. “I marked you as a no, but I changed my mind. You are very much a now.” Melinda’s assailant moved gracefully, her struggles merely a dance to her attacker. Trying to stamp on her attackers instep, only to be lifted off her feet at the last moment before Melinda’s foot connected. Kicking and trying to shout through the hand gag, Melinda’s eyes teared, as she was hauled towards the darker recesses of the service alley. Melinda’s attacker carried her into the looming open doors of a waiting white van covered in black hearts.

**** **** **** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Jarvis, squinted at the flickering street light, and shook his head. Hearing Ching’s voice in his head, Jarvis sighed. ‘If a woman gives you her phone number you should give her yours.’ Humans and their rituals, Jarvis swore he would never understand them. Wrinkling his muzzle, Jarvis sorted through the scents, and began to walk to the rear of the club. The tiger’s nose also picked out another scent. Valentine.

Rounding the corner, Jarvis caught full sight of Valentine struggling with Melinda. Jarvis’s whiskers twitched, maw pulling back revealing rows of sharp teeth. Valentine swiveled his head to look at the tiger fey. Adjusting his grip to keep control of Melinda, Valentine smirked. “Just walk away big cat. I’m just showing the lady a good time.” Melinda screamed, still struggling. “Jarvis! Help me! Let me go!”

Jarvis felt for Melinda, but Valentine had some powerful friends in the court. Hissing Jarvis said, “Let her go, Valentine. She is MY prey. Hunt elsewhere.”

Valentine sneered, using a free arm to work up under Melinda’s dinner dress. “I don’t think so. What are you going to do, eat her thigh? Feels a little skinny to me.”

Melinda squirmed as the Sidhe rudely groped about, her eyes tear streaked and pleading. “Help me, Jarvis! Please! Help me!”

Jarvis flexed a pawed hand; the spike of ancient pact moved the fey tiger into action. Melinda had made a request of him three times. Valentine realizing what was happening cursed, shoving Melinda head first into the door of the van before letting her drop to the ground. Pointing a finger at Jarvis, Valentine spat. “How dare you interrupt my routine, beast! I usually knock them out first so matters like this don’t happen. Well, what is done is done.”

Balling his fists, Valentine cracked his neck. Mocking gallant and ancient ways, Valentine spoke, “Well come then, beast. Let the hunters meet under the moon for the hand of this not so fair human.”

Jarvis felt his fingertips sprout curved claws as he measured Valentine. Valentine was faster, and knew a fair amount of martial arts. Jarvis’s ear flitted his lone eye catching sight of Melinda on the ground as she stirred, down but still conscious. Awkward but unavoidable now, Jarvis thought. Valentine crossed the space between Jarvis and himself in a near blur, slamming a fist into the tiger fey’s chest.

Jarvis’s chest burned as the big cat staggered back. What should have been a nuisance wracked Jarvis with searing pain. Valentine easily ducked the return swipe from Jarvis and punched the big cat in the side. Vaulting back Jarvis held his side, taking small refuge on the hood of Melinda’s car, denting it under his massive weight. Seething the tiger fey spat, “You would use cold iron? That is prohibited by every one of us!”

Valentine shrugged, holding up a gloved hand with iron studs, and said. “Not if you are an enforcer for the crown. Oh, did I forget to tell you? I got promoted.”

Jarvis set his jaw as Valentine ran at him, gloved fist reared back to strike once again. The big cat barely managed to side step the attack, swatting Valentine along the shoulders, claws ripping through the thing fabric of the Sidhe’s wife beater shirt. Valentine crumpled under the blow, rolling along the roof of the car and over the trunk. Scrambling to his feet, Valentine was bowled over by the sudden weight of Jarvis’s pounce. The scent of blood was in the air, spurring the tiger fey on. Jarvis pinned Valentine to the ground with a clawed paw, talons digging in as Valentine shrieked. Smirking the big cat looked down at his prey, before saying. “I’ve never eaten a Sidhe before. I wonder if you are as rich in taste as you look!”

Lashing out desperately Valentine caught Jarvis in the side of the chin as the tiger’s head descended. Heaving his weight to the side, Valentine dislodged Jarvis and kicked the massive cat in the side. The blow had little effect as Jarvis started stand again, more kicks followed, each one a minor thud. Nearly to his feet Jarvis was struck with the gloved hand again in the temple. Stars and pain filled Jarvis’s limited vision, his body spasmed. A handsome perfect hand cupped Jarvis’s chin, raising his gaze to look at Valentine. The Sidhe smiled painfully, gloved hand pulling back for another blow.

Valentine’s head snapped to the side as it was struck with a thrown high heel. The distraction was the opportunity Jarvis needed, swiping a clawed hand up between Valentine’s legs seeking to rend whatever lay betwixt them.

Valentine yelled in panic, throwing himself to the ground as Jarvis’s claws tore through his jeans, skin and meaty flesh underneath. Whimpering the Sidhe rolled to his feet, clutching crotch, and limp ran towards the open van. Jarvis scratched the paint job of Melinda’s car pulling himself up with clawed hands. Tires squealed as Valentine sped out of the service alley the side mirror of the van clipped off by a glancing impact on a dumpster. The vehicle veered into the street, cutting through traffic to a chorus of startled and angry horns.

Jarvis gingerly pawed at the blows he taken by the iron glove, turning his head towards Melinda as she swayed on her feet awkwardly minus a high heel. Jarvis moved towards the woman. Melinda opened her mouth to say speak when her eyes rolled up in the back of her head, fainting into Jarvis’s arms. Looking around Jarvis sighed deeply, “Humans.”

 

Empire 3

The intercom squawked followed by a shrill petite voice, “Must you pick your nose like that? It is unsanitary!” Hesh looked up from the folding card table, towards the speaker only to have his view of it rudely cut off by an the angling of the single light in the room right across his eyes. Hesh squeaked putting an arm up to block the harsh light his mouse paws curling in on themselves. Hesh’s lithe tail slithered from his nostril and lashed about in annoyance behind him, the tip winding its way around the leg of the table. Hesh trilled in response to the speaker, “Stop that! How many times do I have to tell you it has a mind of its own?”

The light swung back to illuminate the table once more, as the intercom crackled a petite feminine coming forth from it. “Apologies, we do have that on record, but it is unsanitary. Shall we continue?” Blinking rapidly, and lowering his arm Hesh looked the room again readjusting his vision. The room was small, sterile white walls with a cheap black folding table in the center. Across from Hesh was a mechanical arm with a remote video camera, its lenses fidgeting to match every movement the mouse man made. Hesh kept cool, dealings with the Under Folk were always tricky. Hesh seldom saw one Fey to Fey, and that was Yule when the imbued items where distributed. They kept to themselves; playing their private games with the human populace to the south in Reno. Their weapons and inventions were highly coveted among the Fey, yet sadly that was not the reason Hesh was here.

Splayed on the table lay a series of cards which the mechanical arm shuffled perfectly every time. Hesh watched the shuffling, mentally ticking through possible combinations. Hesh gnashed his teeth and said, “Are we about done? This germicide is burning my eyes.” The Under Folk had been testing him for over an hour, this series was a modified version of the Zener card test. Hesh was required to predict which card the arm held, and recall the first card he got correct in the previous series.

“Last one, then down to business.” Said the voice on the intercom as the arm drew a card holding it up. Hesh chewed on a paw tip, and said. “Circle. First card, a circle as well.” The camera on the arm panned to look at the card, the voice from the intercom chiming. “Correct. Results are as follows. Subject Hesh Vargass has latent or no psychic ability, recollection is above normal. Reaction time above normal. Speech pattern indicates no temperament displacement. No progressive change. Interesting. How can we be of assistance, Hesh Vargass?”

Hesh adjusted his leather trenchcoat, catching hold of his tail before it snaked his way up a nostril again. “Well, the Empire is clearing out a storage unit in your territory.” A brief stir of air caused Hesh to flutter an ear. Nearly silently a compartment in the ceiling had opened behind the mouse fey, lowering a mounted whaling harpoon which began to swing to point at Hesh.

Sensing the movement, Hesh put up his pawed hands squeaking, “Whoah. Whoah. It is legit, it is humans having us move their stuff!” Paranoia and suspicion ran as strong as their xenophobia. Hesh was unsure about what was behind him but knew better than to look. The mechanical arm came forward putting the camera almost flush against the mouse Fey’s nose.

The lenses rotated on the arm rotated and slowly backed away from Hesh’s face. Hesh let out a slow breath, his tail snaking up under his blue t-shirt. The silence was awkward, it meant one of two things, the price was being discussed or they were arguing about him possibly lying about his presence in their territory.

Rolling his pawed hands over each other, Hesh broke the silence saying. “Uhhh, you know the Wild Hunt is coming up, right?” Scratching at his collar, Hesh continued. “Could be a good time to uh, help each other out. Could be good for all of us you know. I mean its not like we have a chance anyways but it might give us a chance to you know… get to know each other? Kind of like a sleep over with a lot of walls between us…in different rooms.”

The intercom crackled, this time an obviously deep male voice boomed and said, “Are you proposing an alliance or an insurrection? We have no interest in experimenting in the status quo!”

Hesh flinched sure that some miserable fate was about to befall him, still not wanting to turn around. The intercom clicked, yet no voice came. More clicks followed, finally the petite voice returned and said. “Yet, perhaps occasional assistance might be a benefit in the future. Provided of course that you…can prove yourself to us.”

Hunching his shoulder Hesh awaited the other proverbial shoe to drop. Squinting Hesh, pulled out a pair of sunglasses and began to clean the lenses. Angling the glasses he caught sight of what loomed behind him. Hesh felt his stomach churn, “Uhhhhh, it was just an idea. I didn’t mean right now, I mean, uhhh like can we just go through your territory for the move? I was just making idle chit chat, you know like I do with my socks.”

The mechanical arm swung away withdrawing, as the intercom chimed with a new female voice, soft and kind. “I am afraid we have both made an error here. You for mentioning the proposal, and us for indulging in the offer. Fortunately our side of things can be rectified. We are all aware of the power of the Sidhe.”

More panels in the ceiling and walls began to open up; an assortment of automated and bizarre weaponry descended. Hesh coiled his legs under the chair, awaiting the final lines of the conversation. The Under Folk may be paranoid but they were polite. The voice on the intercom portrayed regret. “If it is any conciliation we have informed your band they have permission to travel through Stead and perform the function of their mirror life… I am sorry.”

The weapons and turrets from the ceiling warmed up. Long barrels of make shift Gatling guns began to spin, licks of flame ignited on others, a massive circular saw, flanked by oversized hedge clippers whined and snapped into motion. Hesh felt his ears flatten, the amount of firepower gathered was overkill. The room exploded into action, a fraction of a second after Hesh leapt.

Hesh leapt straight up, desperate pawed hands grappled with the outer casing of one of the make shift Gatling’s. Kicking his legs up to hug the machine tighter, as bullets sprayed the floor and walls in over lapping fields of fire. The buzz saw sheered through the card table punctuated with the chair being cut in half with the sheers. Hesh’s leather trench coat flapped wildly as bullets punched through the lower half that hung within the arc of destruction.

The Gatling gun Hesh clung to rained down hot brass singing fur along his throat and chest. Wiggling and blowing rapidly on the spilling brass he felt the mounting of the Gatling rock, it was meant to support the weight of the gun and no more than that. Hesh’s tail moved coiling over his hip and flicking at the overly warm brass. Hesh watched with wide eyes as the whaling harpoon gun angled and came to a rest pointed at him.

The petite voice rang out over the intercom in panic, “Don’t you dare fire that thing at my machine, Ratchet Broken Nose! Burn him off!”

The whine of gears clattered as one of the flamers swung to aim at Hesh, its blue flame inches from his muzzled face. Shrieking in desperation Hesh watched one of his whiskers catch and coil, burning. The mouse fey spat on the flame, dowsing it with thick saliva, the flamer backed away, swinging side to side trying to clear the gross obstruction.

The circular saw crept forward, the harsh voice over the intercom blaring, “I’ll get’em for ya, Lady Pneumatic!” Hesh tightened his grip as the ceiling turret lurched and started to back away from the on coming blade.

Pneumatic shrieked, “You get one scratch on my machine, John Deere and I will melt your tool kit! Stop! Everyone stop!”

Hesh’s heart thundered in his ears nearly blocking out all the noise in the now gutted room. Looking through the billowing smoke, Hesh panted and briefly wondered why the world was upside down. Pneumatic’s voice came over the intercom again, though it carried a new emotion now. Worry. “Get off my ba- machine. Face your calculated and statistical fate at our hands!”

Hesh blinked having had enough; shaking his head as he felt an all too familiar fog creeping over his vision. His fear dropped away, a slow menacing sneer came to his muzzled lips. A pawed hand jammed into the waist of his jeans, rummaging around and coming up with a sock puppet that looked like a rat. In the puppet’s mouth was a screwdriver. The intercom clicked, as Pneumatic said, “What are you doing?”

Hesh felt his consciousness fading, and another presence take his place. Otto. Hesh hated Otto and struggled to live with the aggressive cruel personality, every time it took over. Hesh chuckled and said, “I’m going to unscrew your casing, so everyone can see how it works!” The screwdriver raked along the barrel of the Gatling gun scratching it, just for good measure.

The Under Folk viewed their machines with pride, and the workings of their machines an individual coveted secret. It was taboo to steal another Under Folk’s design and scandalous to even view. Still there were many attempts to abscond with such designs. Pneumatic screamed hoarsely over the intercom, “You monster! Don’t you dare!”

Hesh worked a screw loose from the panel, letting it hit the floor. The mouse fey sneered, adding sarcasm to his words. “That’s one. Heard them call you Lady, means you got rank; your designs must be top notch. Give me safe passage to Reno and everyone goes to bed with their dignity tonight.” The other turrets maneuvered, jockeying to get the first peek at the sacred workings of Pneumatic’s Gatling design.

Pneumatic, snapped the intercom. “You fiend! I will be ruined, stop!” Another screw fell to the floor, followed by a third. Finally, Pneumatic broke. “I yield! Go, you have my word you will have your safe passage, you foul…you…you foul”

Beady eyes darted from the casing of the Gatling to the camera in the mechanical arm, staring into the lenses. Finishing Pneumatic’s angry words, Hesh said. “…Beast. That is what I am Lady, a beast.”

Hesh dropped to the floor and swung his arms out in a mock bow, “Well that was fun. Let’s do this again sometime! I’ll bring the beer! You bring the cheer!” Hesh said still sarcastic.

The intercom crackled a final time, with feminine hatred. “I will get you for this, Hesh Vargass.” The door to the room slid open silently. “Get out of my view!”

Exiting out the small room Hesh ran down the hall the rat puppet held out in front, yelling at what seemed like to himself. “Come on meat bag! Keep up!” Bursting through the entrance to the open bunker, Hesh gasped for air. The sun had set already and the stars greeted him with their twinkling applause. Scrambling to his Peterbuilt Semi Hesh leapt-climbed into the cab; starting the engine.

Gripping the wheel Hesh found the sock rat sock puppet still on his free hand turn and face the mouse Fey. The mouth moved with Hesh’s voice, “There safe and sound and no one got killed this time. I think some thanks are in order.” Pressing the accelerator Hesh ripped the puppet off his hand and threw it into the open glove box.

Hesh seethed, “Here’s your thanks! You are in time out! It is going to take them at least a year to calm down from that. I could have talked my way out.” Kicking the glove box lid to close it, the puppet not completely in the glove box became pinned half hanging out. Words not his spilled from Hesh’s mouth in a mocking monotone. “Oh no. Not the glove box again.”

Hesh swerved the wheel as the Semi truck roared down the dirt road intersecting with the paved. Still kicking at the glove box Hesh finally got the puppet into the plastic sarcophagus. Shaking Hesh pulled off to the side of the road and collapsed his head upon the steering wheel, where he began to weep. “I hate you! I hate you. I hate you.” Rocking himself, Hesh continued to cry until his breathing steadied, in mental exhaustion, then to sleep.

Hesh never noticed his right arm tense and pawed hand finger walked along the dashboard to the glove box. Opening the plastic prison the hand dropped down and slowly pulled the rat puppet free. Smoothing out the grey felt of the puppet; Hesh’s hand straightened out a wire whisker before rolling up the puppet and placing it in the only remaining pocket of the mouse fey’s trench coat…

Empire 2

Hawg flipped the channels on the soon to be obsolete television. Limited cable with a few local channels all with bad reception. That’s downtown for you, Hawg thought. The hotel room stank of cigarettes, cheap booze and lousy rushed sex. The bathroom mirror even had a mighty crack in it from some junkie trying to pull it off the wall so they could do their drugs. Hawg enjoyed this place for it was riddled with fear and loathing. It was a relaxing detour from his small loft at the moving company Hawg worked for.

Hawg jutted a tusk in a smirk as he thought about where he worked with the other beast like fey. Empire Movers, a slap in the face to the ruling Sidhe if there ever was one. Glancing at the calendar, Hawg let his gaze fall upon the date. Three days from the Wild Hunt the fey of the city held every year.

If the contest wasn’t rigged Hawg might actually support Jarvis in a try for the crown. That was if the big tiger would get off his rump. The beasts had sat out the last eight Wild Hunts. The Sidhe held the crown for fifty years dominating to the point even the Under Folk only donated a token force to partake. Every year, the contest got more lops sided.

Hawg hadn’t taken part in the Wild Hunt in so long that he struggled to recall the rules. The Hunt ran three days, the day before the event a human was chosen by lottery. There were three ways to win.

One, you of course killed the object of the hunt, which was easiest way to win. The second, you tricked the human into following you into Fairy. All the known gateways were guarded by the Sidhe and they did not allow others to use them. The third was to somehow obstruct the hunters and keeping the quarry of the hunt safe until the time limit of the event had expired. There were finer points to the Hunt but Hawg couldn’t bring himself to care.

The winner of course gained the ruling crown until Yule, and access to objects Fairy occasionally expelled to keep those Fey in the mortal world alive. The Sidhe were ‘kind’ enough to make sure everyone got an object imbued with the magic of Fairy to keep them from literally fading away; that and being seen truly by human eyes. As long as the Fey kept the object on them at all times. That is where Sidhe kindness ended; most times those objects took a cruel humorous turn. Instead of getting something subtle like a ring or a necklace often times the items were very inconvenient.

Hawg adjusted himself on the couch and idly scratched at the wooden ladle duct taped to the small of his back. Inconvenient indeed. Hawg supposed he should be grateful, he’d hate to have to lug around a spinning wheel, like poor Hesh had a pair of years ago. You could of course steal another Fey’s object, but they were carefully catalogued and assigned as the ruling party saw fit. Yet another reason not to compete, those that opposed the Sidhe even in sacred competition often found themselves with the worst objects, or even rumored to receive no item at all…

Upstairs for the third night the shouting began, and the feeling of fear showered down upon the razor back boar. Close as Hawg could figure it was a married couple barely making ends meet- the husband was the abuser. Normally Hawg wouldn’t care; it wasn’t his place to be gallant. It was the baby that bothered Hawg, as the shouting continued; on cue, the baby began to wail.

The crying was the lightning bolt that played on Hawg’s conscience; what little he possessed of one. The wails caused the boar to tense and look up towards the ceiling with silent annoyance. Hawg flicked off the television as Channel 8 went ballistic again; apparently they were plagued by hackers. Such antics were left to the nearly xenophobic Under Folk of Area 42. Leave it to them to take advantage of a bankrupt television station. None of the disruptions Hawg really found amusing, instead he concentrated on the fighting going on above him.

The sound of someone hitting the floor perked Hawg interest as the fear intensified. As words grew in volume he could make them out. “You took a whole bottle of aspirin? You wanna die?” The male yelling, said. Another thud on the floor above Hawg as the man went into a rage. Blinking slowly, Hawg glanced at the phone he could call the paramedics, yet such thoughts never really crossed the boar’s mind.

Every one of fey folk had to play by certain rules when it came to dealing with humans. Picking up the phone, Hawg dialed three digits, and waited. The phone rang; Hawg could hear it faintly through the ceiling. The receiver picked up, a sobbing woman and crying child background. Hawg got the notion of the same event taking place in two places at once. He could hear through the ceiling, and from the phone cradled on his shoulder. The man on the other end screamed, “What?”

Hawg felt the words rise from his chest and pass his lips, cold and flat. “I am underneath you. Be quiet.” Hawg said. That was the first request, though it certainly did not sound like it.

The man cursed, “Fuck you, man! Who the hell do you think you are?”

Hawg, turned his gaze towards the door, his broad nose gave a snort. Into the phone Hawg, said. “Be quiet.” A short intake of breath before Hawg added, “Or else.”

The voice on the phone laughed, angrily and said. “Or else what? You going to come up here? Bring it on, you fuck! I dare you! Bring it!”

The sound of the receiver being slammed down harshly ended the call. Hawg failed to even flinch, allowing the phone to fall from his fingers. Normally the conversation would have lasted longer with more useless banter, but the man had made a request of Hawg. Dares counted as requests, and now Hawg was obligated to oblige.

Through the ceiling, the man went back to raging on the female in the room.“Fuck…! Your not going anywhere, sit … couch!” The husband wasn’t even afraid for her, just wrath, and selfish loathing. The woman’s sobs turned to sobs of agony.

Getting to his feet Hawg calmly and exited his room, walking to the elevator as he put on a huge leather biker jacket that covered his near colossal frame, zipping up the sleeves slowly. The world was a toilet and people were the shit in it. The question was; were you a floater or a sinker? Pushing the button to call the elevator, Hawg could still hear the baby crying. It might as well be right next to him. The elevator dinged as the doors slid open. The boar snorted and pushed the fourth floor button.

Leather creaked as the boar stood outside the door as the shouting had quieted down but the woman’s sobs continued. Eyes never leaving the peephole, he curled his right hand into a fist after placing a smoothed piece of obsidian in it. Feeling his muscles tense he knocked with his free hand.

The sobbing was hushed with a rasping threat and the husband approached the peephole. Hawg could hear the man even lean his body against the door as it creaked to adjust for the sudden weight. ‘Thanks, stupid’. Strength coursed through Hawg well beyond the limits of human capacity. The male voice through the door, said irately. “Yeah? Wha ya…”

The sentence would never be finished as the door buckled as Hawg punched the peephole. The slender cylinder rocketed forward into the viewer’s eye. Another punch busted thin brass chain and flung the door wide. Plastic sheeting around the door had torn as well. Wordlessly Hawg entered the hotel room; the place was riddled with glassware and tubes. Looks like the husband was getting ready to make himself a batch of ‘bathtub meth’. The husband was rail thin and shakily trying to cover his bloody eye, a snub nose pistol lay just out of reach on the floor.

Picking up the pistol Hawg trained his eyes to the couch were the woman lay, bleeding from the nose and mouth and looking ashen. The woman was too far gone to help as Hawg could already tell her stomach lining had ruptured and the drugs she had taken previously tore her body to shreds; it would be a matter of hours in agony. Death was more than certain at this point.

The woman’s eyes flicking between shock, agony to pleading. Standing over her Hawg brushed back her blonde hair; she was lovely once in some previous life that seemed so far away. Before the drugs, before the nightly beatings, before her now groaning husband. The crying of the child brought him back to the present, seeing the newborn in a pile of dirty clothes; it didn’t even have a crib. Turning his gaze towards the wailing child, Hawg leveled the gun at the woman on the couch. Cocking the hammer of the snub nosed pistol, the boars head turned back to look at her blankly.

The woman’s gaze clouded with agony widened, yet through all that she sputtered, “Her …her…name is Amelia” The gun snapped off a round; loud and deafening. The bullet tore through her forehead at point blank range and exploded out the back of the woman’s head painting the back of the dirty brown couch with a splash of red, black and grey. The newborn shrieked and lashed out at demons unseen, things it could not understand.

Scooping up the baby Hawg turned to the door as the man groaned somehow getting to his knees. Striding forward Hawg slammed a massive boot into the man’s side and shot him in the gut. Agonized in pain and potentially fatally wounded, the man writhed, clutching at both wounds. Wordlessly the boar stepped over the man and into the hallway with the wailing baby. Tucking the infant close to his chest Hawg set his stare on the elevator down the hall.

Hawg walked to the elevator and pressed the down button, ignoring daring onlookers as door cracked cautiously open; the inhabitants peering out. The child oddly had quieted as he reached the street, sleeping even. Tucking the gun in his waistband Hawg started his motorcycle, the newborn zipped up in the front of his jacket. Hawg guided the motorcycle to the street and headed north towards the university.

Hawg needed time to think, alone, well away from the child. Passing a trio of howling squad cars Hawg left the scene behind him and rode towards the another part of the city, towards someone that owed him a favor and it was time to collect….

Empire 1.2

In the humble temple on Plumas Ave a pair of Buddhist monks watched a furious woman from the distance of the temple’s balcony. In the Zen garden, feverous rakings abound, spawned from the wrathful woman just out of her teens. To the human eye her cheeks glistened with tears, matting her blue hair to her face.

Over and over, the rake parted the soft sands in a violent fashion. The pair had seen this one before, but not in such a state. They knew better than to interfere. A tall shadow overcast the two as a third join them, dressed in army kakis with a winter cap the top and flaps bearing puffed balls of yarn. His presence was a comfort for the two.

One of the monks spoke, “Peace to you brother. She has been here since eight this morning, right to the garden. Seven hours and she has not stopped once. Scrawling her pain, we felt we should leave her alone.”

Chaz looked over the garden; it told him volumes of the worker’s current state. Jagged lines of pain, loss, and anger through out the normally peaceful sands. Curves that lacked flow were signs of humiliation. Not just anger but wrath… Laying a hand on the monk that spoke, Chaz said. “Worry not brother, dude. I’ll talk to her.”

Most people could not see Chaz as he truly was one of the fey folk. He had features of a llama mixed with that of a man. Descending the stairs Chaz made his way out to the garden unafraid even as the woman’s anger flared when he drew near. The female was one of his kind, save for the fact her features were wolf and feminine.

Her anger was fluxing and without direction. Standing on the very edge of the garden Chaz looked on watching the message change observing through half lidded eyes; a classic trait of his llama form. Reaching in his coat pocket he took out a bag of weed and stuffed a pinch of it in his mouth, chewing it like a cud.

Pain, humiliation, wrath, all spread out before him. Looking closer he could read the story before him in the trembling grains.
I liked him; I thought he was worth something, so charming and handsome. We went out a few times he seemed to get bored with me. So I gave him my body and things were better. I found out he had others besides me. I was replaced. Trying not to hurt anyone. Trying. Trying. I am angry. I am wrathful.

Blinking Chaz looked up as the rake came to a stop. Before him was a furious wolfress, the hair on her head dyed blue; her eyes almost dry from tears spent. The wolfress was still dressed in her clothes from the previous night, a short skirt of blue with leather jacket over it. Leather calf high boots dusted with the sand she had toiled over and over. Lending a lazy smile, Chaz greeted her. “Hello Charlotte.”

The end of the handle on the rake snapped off in reply. Stopping himself from taking a half step back Chaz held his ground. Her name among the humans was Charlotte Bennings. To the fey of the city she was known as Ching Chang Chewie, soldier, brawler, bully and a few other titles that were less than flattering.

Looking at the broken wood in her hand she felt her shoulders slump then gazing back to Chaz, she murmured. “Come on in.” With permission given Chaz walked into the garden closer to Ching. “Wanna talk about it, dude?”
Half waving at the garden workings, “Cause it looks like you need to.” Chaz noted.

Ching’s gaze rose at the flicker of movement on the balcony, her ears folded back and she growled. Snapping his fingers Chaz redirected her gaze back to him. “They live here- you are the intruder, remember?” His voice carried a calming tone, but he knew it would be a while before she calmed down. He might even have to fight her which, albeit reluctantly, he was up for. Anything for a friend.

As Chaz drew closer Ching took the posture of a wounded animal. Keeping it smooth and at a distance; luckily, it was what Chaz was good at. After many minutes of edging, he was close enough to touch her which he did with great care. Taking her along the arm; slowly taking the rake from her; Chaz held it with firm hand.

Ching’s eyes welled with misplaced shame; she blamed herself for not being good enough. Gently guiding her to a rock big enough for the both of them they sat back to back. Chaz chewing his cud, “You know life is a full experience, dude. Good and bad, always changing.”
Going rigid against Chaz; Ching would snort before speaking sharply. “When do I get to the good part?”

Not phased Chaz would shrug, “It comes when you want it to, dude. It’s the burdens you choose to carry, light or heavy. I’m thinkin we need to redress your balance, dude.”

Another snort as Ching looked over the garden, “Easy for you to say. You never had your heart broken. Never felt worthless, never had to live with rage.”

Taking out the bag of weed once again, he offered it to Ching without looking at her, “You should try some, might mellow you out, dude.” The bag is snatched and nearly hurled, a nearly terse, “Duuudddee.” would follow. The weed came back into Chaz’s hand, his voice flowed evenly.

“Thanks dude. See, even when you are mad you’re respectful.” Contented chewing set the pace, as Chaz spoke, “I had my heart broken plenty of times. Like when Sherpa, my brother in arms turned on me. I was so out of balance for a long time, but I came back to center when I knew his actions were his own and I wasn’t to blame. You live in wrath, dude. You do so by your own choice. Righteous wrath can be beautiful, while unfocused and unrighteous wrath looks like this.” panning a hand out over the garden as an example for Ching.

Balling her pawed hands into fists, Ching said. “He was so cruel! I didn’t deserve it. I gave him everything!”

“Then why you hanging on to it, dude? You gotta cleanse yourself. Its ok to be mad, just don’t stay there. Like I say, without waves we can’t surf, right?” Chaz felt for his friend but was determined to get her over the emotional hurdle.

Ching pressed on with her rant, the fire in her body language dying out slowly,“I feel so worthless, like I wasn’t good enough. If I was calm like you, this would have never had happened.”

Chuckling Chaz dared a nudge on his friend’s side half expecting to be throated in response, but nothing came. “Dude, if you were like me the world would be missing out on a lot. I want you to do something for me, try to clear your mind, just let it all go for a minute. Just fall back into nothiness.”

Setting her jaw Ching closed her eyes and started to regulate her breathing, concentrating on it letting her mind clear. Chaz feeling her calm a bit he continued, “You are righteous wrath, a soldier of the fey court. Your spirit is a flame that can never be quieted, never weighed down. You are beautiful, dude. Let your heart soar, you are a goddess in flight. Now breathe and cleanse yourself, dude. This moment is the most important moment in your life cause you’re in it.”

Breathing lightly Ching fell into her friend’s words. She felt lighter, calmer. Opening her eyes she slipped off the rock and turned to face her llama friend. “Thanks, Chaz.” Chaz merely chewed his cud and burped a response, “For what?”

Laughing lightly Ching shook her head and made her way out of the garden to the street; she’d end up having to walk home but didn’t seem to mind. Chaz watched her leave; Chaz factored the encounter could have ended either way, in violence or peace. Today she chose peace, but it did nag his mind that one day that might not be the case. Mentally Chaz shrugged, he never looked for the ‘woulda, coulda, shouldas.’

Chaz only hoped that her wisdom was growing just as fast… Taking up the rake he set to the task of reworking the garden; falling into the harmony it provided; his soul bare upon the ground of ever shifting sand, pausing only to indulge in the beauty of the setting sun.
The inspired lightness in Ching’s heart fell away a mere two blocks from the temple. Ears canting forward she detoured from the route she’d use to get home. Back to her now ex’s place. It took hours on foot, but she didn’t mind, the ends justified the means.

Standing outside the apartment complex, she considered going up and giving him a piece of her mind and show him how she felt. Hearing Chaz’s voie in her head, she scratched at her arm guiltily. Chaz tried to honestly assist her, but there were some things that couldn’t be helped. Like revenge.

You are righteous wrath, the spirit of summer. Shaking her head Ching walked to her ex’s Lexus convertible. Trying the handle the door swung open. He must be with a real hot girl, probably drunk too, Ching thought to herself.

Letting herself in Ching felt around under the dash of the cherry red convertible. Yanking wires free she recalled Hesh’s instructions on how to hot wire a car. Tap. Tap. Spark! The engine coughed and then purred to life. Moving the stick to shift gears grinding them as Ching sped off in her prize. Purposely guiding the car too close to the cement wall that housed the dumpster, Ching joyfully awaited the noise of grinding metal on stone and was rewarded as the passenger mirror ripped free. “Ooops.”

Cruising along the freeway she opened the glove compartment and rummaged around. A sea of condoms fell free along with drink tokes; the awaited prize was in there as well. One of her anger management CD’s. Ching wanted to share her problem with him but her lover just wanted sex. Slipping the CD in Ching turned up the volume as she lowered the top to the convertible.

Flipping tracks she settled on one of her favorites. ‘Remember when your anger gets the better of you; visualize what you want to happen in the situation, then realize it shouldn’t, for you are merely angry and this too shall pass.’ Visualize this! Jerking the wheel she slowly ground the driver side into the guardrail, the bolts ripping rends into the flank and door of the convertible shooting sparks in a glorious spray. Flooring the accelerator, she took an off ramp at a race car pace, hub cap flying free.

The voice on the CD droned on. ‘Breath deeply as your anger comes under control; you are the master of your emotions. Anger is natural but it should not dominate you.’ Shifting gears improperly the engine whined and stalled, finally clunking in place as the car sped up even further. Looking up the moon shined full and fine; the cool air racing past her face she leaned her head out the window and let her tongue hang free.

Ching steered into the vast parking lot of the Grand Sierra, formerly known as the Reno Hilton. Peeling out, Ching spun the car in wide arcs, shifting the steering in a zigzag, narrowly avoiding several parked cars.

Popping the CD free she turned on the radio and got out, lounging on the hood. Many a night she had spent star gazing on the hood of Hesh’s massive semi truck. She felt decent, as her fingers trailed over the damaged side she was able to reach. Decent was not good enough… Righteous wrath can be beautiful, while unfocused and unrighteous wrath looks like this. Chaz was right; as she rolled off the hood and gazed at the car. This was unfocused wrath; scratches and tears.

Jumping back in the driver’s seat she revved the engine. Calming herself she closed her eyes a moment and then opened them. The answer came to her and she drove down to a trailer truck overlooking the watery driving range. Empty of payload, its ramps were open for some private car viewing at the hotel in the morning.

Checking for security she bashed the driver side window open and yanked open the door, releasing the emergency brake, the truck slowly rolled forth and came to a stop at a drainage ditch as the front wheels got caught in the channel.

Taking up a loose cinder block Ching dropped it on the hood of the humming convertible denting it. With a piece of broken glass from the ground, Ching set about the task of cutting the seat belt off the driver side of the car.

When that was done, she took the block and shifted the car in reverse away from the trailer. Looking towards the full moon then to the trailer; she backed up further. Tying the seat belt to the wheel and the gear shift on one side, she tied the other side to the door handle of the driver side door. Crouched in the seat she looked at the cinder block and gave it a light kiss. When do I get to the good part? It comes when you want it to, dude.

Pressing the block to the gas pedal she stood up as the car began to move forward, Ching’s heart raced as she slid over the windshield and onto the hood. Bracing her feet she eyed the ramp as the car rocketed gaining speed.

Wind blowing her hair back; senses alive like never before the ramp trailer loomed. Without waves we can’t surf, right? Crouching low her skirt rose enticingly as Ching surfed the hood of the car sharp eyes measuring, ready for the ramp; ready for the next split moment. This moment is the most important moment in your life cause you’re in it.

The car hit the ramp and ascended, Ching’s balance adjusted out of instinct. The whine of the engine hung behind her as the car went airborne.
You are righteous wrath.

Swinging her arms out as the car pressed to its zenith of its flight Ching vaulted further upwards and out. Arms outstretched time seemed to slow around Ching; caressing the moon’s outer edge with her paw hands. Feeling the moon’s rushing glow upon her face; weightless in the evenings Ching cupped pawed hands wanting to hold the moon a few seconds more.

Your spirit is a flame that can never be quieted, never weighed down. She felt beautiful, glorious, blessed; cleansed. Ching’s heart was hers once again, strong and true!

Let your heart soar, you are a goddess in flight. YES! At the apex of her arc she kicked her legs and tucked her body in on itself. Corkscrewing as the wolfress plummeted, eyes joyously wide she’d cut it close to the impact of the car on the churning water below. As with all her opponents in the past, close but not close enough to matter.

Ching hit the water in a sleek dive churning water hiding her ripples. Swimming languidly Ching surfaced to the bubbling water of the sinking car. Paddling away from it the scene Ching made for the dark side of the watery driving range; every arm stroke and leg kick a soothing sensation of exertion.

Soaking wet Ching rose from the water as it grew shallow. Ching ducked through a hole in the chain link fence and flop down on a blanket laid over the grass. Panting happily she paused as she realized she was on a blanket someone had placed here.

The familiar chewing and scent of a weed cud came to her senses. Chaz’s voice rolled forward from the noise, “Not exactly what I had in mind, dude. Not that I disapprove or anything. What you did was beyond imagining, feel better?”

Ching flopped over on her stomach and looked to the moon, experiencing the beauty and joy, both private and with Chaz. Laughing softly she looked at Chaz with a wink, speaking in a language few understood for it contained one word and many tones. “Dude.” Wanna come home with me?
“Duudde.” Got funions?
“Dude.” You know it.
“Duuuddde, I am so there.”

Hustle and Fetch 2

Axel held the door open for Bait; the prostitute giggled and slithered by Axel with a mock curtsy. Bait and Axel were immediately pounced upon by the hostess with an obviously fake smile. Short and plump in stature the hostess tried portray the air that Denny’s was a five star restaurant. Seeing the condition the two were in the hostess put them in a booth nearly out of sight of the other customers, near the bathrooms and the doors to the kitchen. The restaurant was nearly empty, a pair of truck drivers at the counter, and a small group of obviously hung over college students from local UNR.

The place smelled of cheap food and even cheaper antiseptic chemical. Bait cradled her hands together and crossed her legs settling back in the booth as Axel sat across from the alleged former prostitute. Glancing up expectantly Bait swept her hands back a few inches as the hostess crashed a pair of menus down on the table. The hostess remarked tartly already turning her back to the two, “Your server will be Ralph.”

Axel cleared his throat, leaning over to halt the hostess his voice immediately condescending, “Actually, we want Katrina as our server. Thank you.” The hostess balked her pleasant façade cracking. “She is really busy.” Bait pounced, waggling her eyebrows cheerfully. “We’ll wait!” The hostess gave a knee jerk reaction, almost clenching her fist. Seconds hung in the air as the hostess slapped a hand to her hip, her tone forced to be civil. “Fine. I will let her know.”

Axel glanced at the menu, tracing his fingertips over ever pock mark of the plastic covered paper. Murmuring to himself, “I wonder how many times kids have chewed on this?” Axel could feel the weight of eyes upon him; slowly he lowered the menu to take in Bait staring at him. Bait’s eyes were cheery and wide, a smile played on her lips, shoulders bunching up in expectation.

Bait couldn’t contain herself any longer and burst into rapid fire questions. “So who is the client? Where we going? What’s the case? Think it’s a kidnapping? Missing person? Cheater on the loose? Come on, spill it!”

Raising a hand attempting to slow Bait down, Axel chuckled. “Whoa…Whoa. Hold on.” The conversation was cut short as a shadow cast over the table. Bait jerked her head, smoothing out her blue hair in a flourish, smiling. “Katrina!”

Katrina slipped a hand to her waist and mock posed. Her look was classic, auburn hair done up in a classic tight bun. Hour glass figure to accompany her medium height. The waitress outfit was tacky yellow and brown, yet somehow Katrina managed to make it look desirable. Arching her back a button on the blouse came free partially revealing her more than plentiful assets. Axel couldn’t help but look, catching sight of a slender silver chain and an encircled star at the end.

Katrina smiled wryly, her voice pouring out like honey, fixing the wardrobe malfunction. “Well if it isn’t Axel Morris and Jamie Passle. I haven’t seen you two in a while. I was just about to end my shift, what brings you here?”

Axel opened his mouth to answer only to be cut off with by excited Bait, “Katrina! We’re celebrating, Axel got a case! He was about to tell all of us about it!” Looking to Axel, Bait beckoned for the detective to continue.

Slumping back in the booth, Axel let out a sigh, shoulders slumping forward and elbows braced on the table. “Look it is not a big deal. I got a client that wants to at least meet. There was no talk of hiring or a case. I am not even sure I can clean myself up in time.” Reality was beginning to set in, and the weight of it was slowly crushing, Axel. Katrina broke the impending gloom, still cheerful. “Well who is the client?”

Breaking away from the train of thought Axel, half shook his head. “Um, Lita. Lita Dervish. Look, can I get some coffee, and I wanna cash that meal you promised me in.” Bait cocked her head puzzled; the name was unfamiliar to the prostitute. Katrina gawked, placing her hands on the edge of the table and leaned over, her eyes wide. “Lita Dervish? As in the Lita Dervish?”

Axel grew curious, Katrina was obviously impressed, yet he caught a flicker of something behind the waitress’s eyes. If he didn’t know any better, Axel would have sworn Katrina was worried about something. Axel felt his senses sharpen, “Yeah. Do you know her?” Katrina shifted her weight, straightening up, Axel watched as the waitress’s body language grew subdued. The way Katrina chewed her lip lightly told Axel he was in for an edited reply.

Katrina tried to look casual, looking away and making a posh movement with her hands. “Lita is only the most sought after art dealer in the city. People get famous from dealing with her. Social high hat and extremely cut throat. She’s big money.”

Axel knew Katrina was an aspiring artist, maybe she had a less than stellar run in with Lita? The detective dismissed the idea, Katrina’s tone and movements would have been different had that been the case. If anything Katrina looked split on the matter: she obviously wanted to help her friend, yet in another sense the waitress didn’t. Something was not sitting right; Axel glanced over at Bait, who was covering her mouth to keep from squealing in delight. Axel suppressed the urge to keep prying and settled on shifting the subject. “I can’t go to her place looking like this.” Tugging at his thread bare coat, and picked at a stain on the cuff.

Bait took over, rattling off tasks that Axel needed to do, “Yeah! We need to get you some clothes, and you gotta shave. Maybe sneak a shower in too, or buy some cologne!”

Katrina flipped open her pad, clicking a pen. Her expression grew amused again, “I can front you a coffee and a daily special. I assume this is for the both of you; I can toss some oatmeal in too. As for clothes, you can hit the lost and found box.”

Axel nodded his thanks, “You are the best, Katrina.” Turning to Bait next, “You want to hit the box for me?” Bait saluted in response, “No problem boss!” Watching Katrina head through the doors of the kitchen he noticed his friend walked away almost stiffly, not her usual sashay. Something was not right, but the dots were too far apart to make any sort of connection.

Axel stared in the bathroom mirror, running his hand over his stubble laden cheek. Sharp features and brown eyes stared back at the detective. Worry lines creased his forehead, and he was just starting to get crows feet around his eyes. Smoothing his black hair he noted a few strands of white dotting his scalp. The bathroom lights flickered, the tell tale sign they would need to be replaced. The stark white tile was cast almost grey as the lights dimmed and brightened with the pulse of electricity.

Laying the single bladed razor on the counter top, Axel reached into his coat and pulled out a length of electrical cord in a zip locked bag. Opening the bag Axel fished out the cord, gingerly adjusting the frayed end that was covered in razor blades. The device was simple, you plug one end into a socket and drop the frayed end into some water and presto, the water would be heated to almost a boil in a matter of minutes. Clogging the sink with paper towels, Axel let the water run and plugged the cord into the wall next to the sink on the counter. Axel jimmied the top of the soap dispenser with his car key before dipping his hand into the liquid soap as he began to lather up…

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Bait hummed to herself as she rummaged through the large lost and found box, keeping an eye on the table not wanting to miss the foods arrival. She had found a pair of black loafers, and they looked like they would fit Axel. Apparently people leave all kinds of things at Denny’s, Bait even found some light black pants. Checking on the table once again, she caught sight of Katrina in the kitchen through the service doors. Katrina was on her phone, and by the expression on the waitress’s face she was not happy at all. Bait filed that away in the back of her mind for later. Bait had few friends, and those she did have she was always concerned for their well being.

Returning to her rummaging she made a few giggles at some of the loud jackets. Digging to the near bottom of the box Bait pulled out a black corduroy suit coat. Spiral designs stitched in grey and red coursed down the sleeves. Grinning to herself, “Pimpin’.” The jacket struck her as strange and fancy, she could feel the hair on the back of her neck standing up as she held it out. Brushing the feeling away, Bait admired the garment. This would look great on Axel, Bait thought. Folding the jacket and slacks over her arm, Bait caught the hostess watching her; Bait promptly stuck her tongue out at the woman. The hostess frowned and looked down at the seating chart on the podium, trying to ignore Bait.

Seizing the urge to mentally abuse the hostess Bait casually strolled passed the woman to the bathroom door. Gripping the handle to the men’s room Bait opened the door with a flourish and flashing the hostess a knowing smile entered without a word. The hostess blushed with rage.

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Axel grunted sitting back down at the booth. The shoes Bait had given him were painfully tight, but they looked better than his worn sneakers. In contrast the slacks were too big, and Axel had to wear his belt as tightly as he dared to keep them up. Still Axel was grateful for the resourcefulness of his companion. The jacket fit perfectly, despite its odd look was very comfortable. Adjusting the jacket, Axel felt something heavy within the inside pocket. Reaching in the jacket, Axel pulled a brass Zippo lighter out. Scratched and worn the Zippo had the weight of history to it. Engraved in calligraphy were the letters, ‘F M’. Licking his thumb, Axel dabbed at the worn brass in an attempt to clean it. Nice lighter, too bad Axel did not smoke.

Katrina dropped off the meal, and made hurried excuses to depart. Bait looked crest fallen, making Katrina promise that they would get together sometime and ‘hang’. Axel made no protest, his mind cataloguing the waitress’s actions. Axel remained puzzled, choosing to focus on the meeting he had later that day with Lita Dervish.

Watching Katrina leave, Bait turned to Axel, her expression almost hurt to gaze upon. Pouting lip jutting forward, Bait stabbed a spoon into the bowl of oatmeal. “What is up with Katrina? She is acting way weird.”

With a mouthful of toast, Axel shrugged. Washing down the toast with the coffee, Axel knitted his brow in concentration. “Something has her spooked, and I get the feeling it’s about my potential client, Lita.”

Growing defensive of her friend Bait, frowned deeply, “Think this Lita lady did something to her? If she did I am gonna pimp slap her with a crowbar.” Axel shrugged again, “I don’t know, Bait. Something is going on, let’s get through the meeting and we can see where to go from there.” Bait perked up a bit, “We? As in, you are taking me with you?”

Axel stabbed a fork full of eggs and sighed in mock surrender, “Well I just can’t leave you here, can I?” Bait giggled, snaking a hand over the plate to grab the bacon. “Nope!”

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Lady Farview fumed, going through her morning yoga routine. Her husband had not come home again, and Farview knew exactly where he was. He was out attempting to impregnate that comatose lesbian, Lady Freya. Again. Stopping her exercise, Farview snapped up the remote and turned off the television as the yoga instructor on the screen began encouraging banter.

Why Lady Farview ever agreed to let her husband do that was a matter that left her confused and angry. Was she drunk, or was it a compulsion spell mixed with his slithering yet charming words? He had played on her vulnerability when she learned she could not have children. Somehow he got Farview to agree to it, in writing no less.

Storming through the hall of her four bedroom house, Farview paused before an altar in the front room facing the front door. Closing her eyes Farview steadied her breathing, Feeling the beauty of her home, its tan walls, and marble flooring cooling the bottom of her feet. Its nouveau riche décor, the house seemed to embrace her and assuage her anger, just enough for Farview to do her daily prayers to her god, Apollo.

Finishing her prayer, Lady Farview opened the sliding glass door that led to the back porch. Living on the edge of Reno had its perks, the view was breath taking. Lady Farview and her husband, Tyle Hughes sat at the head of the council of Reno’s pagan community. They ascended to the top of the community after the ghost army summoned by the necromancer Sinister plagued the city, nearly two years ago.

Witches, shamans, mages, wizards, and even psychics from the surrounding region came to staunch the chaos. Most non pagans were kept in the dark, and the matter was slowly set to right. Most of the spirits were put back to rest, and strict laws on magic were placed along with militant wards surrounding the city. Promises made to neighboring cities that this matter would never darken their doors again. Lady Farview and the council had been instrumental in constructing the laws that would keep the city safe.

Silently, Lady Farview went over the laws in her head as she did every morning. No practitioner of the dark arts could use magic without the presence of their warden. No pagan could leave Reno without the express permission of the council. All users of dark magic were to be marked with a visible brand so those of light could know their nature. All magical groups were to submit the council, listing exact numbers of members and nature. Communication with pagans outside of the city is allowable after council notification and approval.

It was a monumental effort with plenty of rebellion from the younger pagans. They finally understood that if these laws were not in place pagan councils from other cities would install their own laws and they would not be as flexible as those in power now. That and the promise of hope that once all the insane spirits of the cemetery were put to rest the laws would be lifted, spurred them on.

Lady Farview settled in a sun faded lawn chair, her lithe form stretched, she was nearly fifty but her visage was of someone maybe just out of their twenties. Pale blonde hair cascading over her spandex clad shoulders, Lady Farview laughed softly as the wind played with the ends of her hair. One of the many perks of her being a witch. Casting a gaze over Reno as it woke for its day, she felt herself smile. The road to the cities redemption was growing shorter daily.

Lady Farview found her day dreaming interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. The tone indicated that it was not her cellphone. It was the house line, and that only rang when there was a community issue.

Entering the house Lady Farview picked up the phone, moving her hair away from her ear before placing the phone to it. “Hello? Oh! Katrina, it is always a blessing to hear from you.” Listening to information being relayed Lady Farview grew curious. The tone in her voice reflected her emotion, “Lita Dervish? Why would she need a detective? No, no dear. You did the right thing. I’m sure your friend is just doing something casual for her. Yes, I have felt the energies in that area but so far nothing malicious I assure you. I will have it looked into. You are welcome dear, never fret and never feel it is a waste of time to call me. We live to serve our community.”

Hanging up the phone, Lady Farview took up her cellphone. Dialing a number, she smiled. At last, something for the community to do. To look into a matter that could be curbed to strengthen the community as one. Speaking into the phone as it was picked up, “Good morning, Jack. I have something that might interest you and your dragon warriors….”