E J Stevens - [Ivy Granger, Psychic Detective 01] Page 4

  Oh, and the smell! Gangrenous teeth are much nastier than troll farts—or maybe I was catching the odor of both through my shirt. I grabbed the tin of Earl Gray, lifted off the lid, and stuck my nose inside. I’d buy Kaye a new tin of tea later. For now, I inhaled the sweet smell of bergamot.

  Hob bounced up and down on the pot hook screaming about filth in his kitchen. This troll obviously didn’t know the rules of dealing with brownies. By the looks of him, I wasn’t all that surprised that he wasn’t acquainted with many domestic fae. The troll was filthy, even by troll standards, and looked like he had climbed out from under his bridge only to wallow in a mud pit and jump around in a mound of trash.

  Rule #1 when dealing with brownies—never make a mess in their demesne. Brownies take tidiness very seriously. Like, you know, deadly serious.

  Rule #2 when dealing with brownies—don’t appear to be lazy. Brownies know how to motivate, and it’s not a pleasant experience.

  Rule #3 when dealing with brownies—bring them a gift. Nearly any item will suffice.

  The troll dropped the sack from his shoulder and onto the floor. A dark, noxious substance seeped through the cloth and trickled out the open sack. Something within the bag flopped twice, like a disheartened fish out of water, then the cloth went still.

  Addendum to rule #3—brownie gifts should be something nice, preferably shiny. Brownies have a strong dislike for clothing, cold iron, and stinky, vile bags of muck.

  Hob rushed toward the troll, silver pin thrust out before him like a saber.

  Mab’s bloody bones. I brandished my tin of Earl Gray and leapt forward. I didn’t stand a chance against a troll, or a brownie, in a fight, but I wasn’t about to let Hob kill himself over a dirty floor. Some things friends just don’t sit idly by and let happen.

  “Stop!” Kaye shouted. Her voice was like a thunder clap and held a note of authority. Heck, it contained a whole damn symphony. “Halt, Hob-o-Waggle son of Wag-at-the-Wa and kin to Gwarwyn-a-Throt! Poke that dear troll and I shall poke you thrice.”

  There was power in a name, especially to the fae folk, and Kaye had used Hob’s full name and the names of his family. She wasn’t one to mess around.

  “But, madam, dis vermin be filthying de floor and foulin’ the air besides,” Hob said.

  He lowered his arm, though I noticed he hesitated as his eyes flicked to the disgusting heap at the troll’s feet. At a brisk nod from Kaye, Hob reluctantly slid the pin inside his shabby pocket.

  The troll shuffled over to Kaye and lay at her feet like a big, smelly dog—or a grizzly bear with mange. He sighed contentedly and I thrust my tin of Earl Gray back over my nose. I suddenly regretted eating breakfast this morning. Throwing up now would be very bad. I didn’t want to offend Hob. He wouldn’t like any more disgusting mess on his polished floors.

  “This vermin as you call him has a name, and you shall show him some respect,” Kaye said. “Marvin lost his papa last year and is having a bad time of it on his own. He’s taken to living under a very unsanitary bridge and now has sores on his skin and is losing his teeth. Life is rough for orphans living on the street, even those with fae blood. You’d do well to remember that.”

  “Aye, sorry madam,” Hob said. He hung his head and blushed.

  I felt guilty too. A moment before, I was ready to blind Marvin with my tea tin. Poor kid. I wasn’t volunteering for the job or anything, but Marvin needed help. The guy could use a break—and a bath.

  I shuffled my feet, straightened my shirt, and tucked the tea tin behind my back. The stench in the room was so bad that I could taste it, but I’d been rude enough. I had plenty of experience with being the odd kid that everyone drew away from. Marvin may be the size of a VW Beetle, and smell like a backed up sewer, but he was just a messed up kid and I was determined to make the guy feel welcome.

  “Hey, Marvin,” I said, waving. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Ivy.”

  I pointed to my chest and smiled. Hob shot me a scowl that screamed traitor, but I kept smiling. It wasn’t easy. The troll funk was making me queasy.

  “Poison Ivy?” Marvin asked.

  “Um, no, just Ivy,” I said.

  Hob snickered.

  “I think he’s making fun of you, dear,” Kaye said, smiling.

  Wonderful, I was being outwitted by a troll.

  “Ah, a funny man,” I said. “So, um, Kaye…is this a bad time?”

  “No, I’m done with my spell and Marvin has brought me the items I need to make a poultice for his sores,” Kaye said. “If he doesn’t mind taking a nap here in the kitchen, we can retire to my office. Marvin?”

  “Me tired,” Marvin said. “Sleep here. Me wait.”

  “He’s sleepin’ ere…in de kitchen?” Hob sputtered. “Wha’ ‘bout de mess?”

  “If you must clean, dear, just be quiet about it,” Kaye said. “Marvin really does need his rest. He’s agreed to do some labor for me in exchange for the poultice and the mending of his teeth. Poor thing has been out fetching items all day.”

  “Aye, madam,” Hob said.

  Kaye bustled to the shop door, lifting her layers of skirts as she went.

  “See you later, Hob,” I said, turning to follow Kaye out the door. “Fresh breezes and safe travels.”

  “Safe travels, lass,” Hob said absently.

  He was already walking toward his mop bucket. I heard Hob whistling a tune and Marvin’s snores as I closed the kitchen door and stepped into the cramped hallway. Kaye’s office door was open and I took a steadying breath before stepping inside. Kaye was a friend, but she was also owner of Madame Kaye’s Magic Emporium and the most powerful witch in the city. I needed advice on how to deal with Forneus and his supposed client.

  But first, I had to inform a force of nature that there was a demon in her back yard. I was pretty sure that would piss her off. I was right.

  Chapter 4

  We were in Kaye’s office, where she kept everything from shop inventory records and accounting ledgers to astrological charts on her friends and business associates. The room was small, but functional…if you were a pixie. Filing cabinets were pushed against the walls and cardboard boxes were piled everywhere, their contents spilling out to litter the floor. No brownies were allowed in here. Poor Hob would have an apoplectic fit and die of shock if he ever witnessed this mess.

  Kaye rolled her wrist, gesturing at the paper sky scrapers, and a path cleared in the record keeping chaos. One thing was certain; Kaye didn’t trust technology to maintain her important records. A lot of magic users are old-school like that.

  Kaye looked to be in her late sixties, though she was much, much older. I don’t know exactly how old she is. With magic users, it’s hard to tell and Forneus was right about one thing—it’s impolite to ask someone their age.

  She sat balanced atop a pile of boxes behind her desk, the path to her side of the small room already disappearing beneath the detritus. In her shop attire of head kerchief over a tumble of silver-threaded dark curls, long, layered skirts, and excessive jewelry, Kaye looked like a keen-eyed raven perched on its nest of treasures.

  “A demon?” Kaye asked, leaping upright and raising her hands in the air with a jangle of bracelets.

  We’d already been over this, like, a million times already. Kaye could really go in for theatrics and she was milking the demon drama to the freaking max.

  “Look, I was hoping you could tell me,” I said.

  “Okay, dear, start again at the beginning,” Kaye said with a sigh. “And don’t leave out a single detail. I want to know how the bastard got through my detection wards. A demon shouldn’t be able to pop in and out of this city without so much as an as you please, not on my watch.”

  Kaye had a fiery gleam in her eye that belied her age and hinted at a past that involved wielding something more dangerous than a long-handled spoon to cook spells (though the one she was waving around could probably cause a broken bone or two). I didn’t know all of the details, but I had come to share
the secret of Kaye’s past. The old woman who stood before me had run with hunters in her wilder days.

  The story of her taking down a rogue barghest, a monstrous black dog the size of an overgrown mastiff with glowing eyes, razor claws, and the ability to strike fear into the hearts of men twice her size, is a legend among those who hold the magic secrets of the city. Not that there are many of us left. According to the old-timers there used to be nearly as many city dwellers with magic ability as those without, but times have changed. So when a blood-thirsty barghest started hunting the city streets, there were few who could do anything about it.

  A barghest isn’t always malevolent. In fact, the beasts are usually set with the task of portending doom at the request of a higher ranking fae master. Barghests wander the crossroads and back alleys searching for the man or woman marked to die. When the barghest looks into their eyes, they see their own death and die of fright. Not a particularly pleasant faerie beast, but not one of the purely evil monsters who enjoy the suffering of others for their own delight. I mean, heck, the barghest is just a messenger…and we don’t shoot the messenger no matter how bad the news, right?

  Unfortunately, this particular barghest’s heart had turned black as midnight. He left the shackles of his master and went on a killing spree—for fun. The beast enjoyed tormenting and killing those souls he could stalk at night. Men and women leaving the pubs, bars, and dance clubs to stumble home to their beds were a particularly fun and tasty treat. Someone had to do something to stop the beast.

  Once a barghest goes rogue, there are few options left. This one was a few centuries too old for obedience training. You just can’t teach an immortal black dog new tricks.

  The barghest was a creature of habit and stuck to his usual hunting grounds—crossroads and dark alleys. This made hunting him easy. It was the killing that was damn near impossible. Kaye was in charge of taking it down, and keeping it down, while the others tried to destroy it or banish it back to the Otherworld.

  Ten magic users went out that night to catch and kill a rogue barghest. By morning only one mage was left standing against the beast. The one magic user who lived through that battle was the same woman who now stood before me shuffling papers and fuming over the audacity of a demon in her city. Kaye was one tough witch.

  Kaye worked binding magic throughout the night while the other mages tried every offensive spell at their disposal, but man after man fell before the barghest. The beast reacted as if the mages were flies to swat away. He was just too strong.

  As Kaye’s body weakened and power faded, she did the unthinkable. She cast a spell that was sure to immolate her own body. But she didn’t die a fiery death—she became a Hero.

  In a final act of desperation, as the morning sky lightened to the east, Kaye called upon the one power source that no magic user in their right mind would dare touch. She wrestled with the sun. Kaye drew tendrils of blazing energy from the rising sun to cast one final spell. What she cast was something akin to the Holy Fire of legend.

  It should have burned out her mind and left nothing but cinder, smoke, and ash. Instead, Kaye forced solar fire to obey her will and wrapped the bound barghest in a cocoon of flame hot enough to rival the fires of Hell. Kaye may have been crazy to tap into the energies of the sun, but one thing was certain—she gave a whole new meaning to solar powered.

  Writhing in ropes of blue-green witch flame and encased in a pillar of white-hot celestial fueled fire, the barghest’s eyes still burned red, flickering with hellfire. The ancestry of most fae is too old to be remembered, but there are those who say the barghest are the unfortunate offspring of a female mauthe doog and a male hell hound. According to Kaye, that rumor is well founded.

  The barghest started offering a boon of unlimited wealth and power in exchange for his release, but Kaye continued to channel the sun’s power to fan the flames. She was one woman who was not going to be bought. His promises turned to curses as the fires rose up to swallow him whole. The angry red dots of the beast’s eyes winked out, and he was gone. Whether sent back to the Otherlands home of his fae mother or the pits of Hell where his father is rumored to reside, the barghest was gone from Harborsmouth and Kaye became an instant legend within the magic community.

  That living legend was now sitting across from me, giving me the stink eye. Soulless barghests with the powerful mixed blood of fae and demons may be able to wheedle and bargain under her gaze, but I was just a lowly human. I coughed up the goods, making sure not to leave out the teensiest detail.

  “So, I’m supposed to meet Forneus back at my office at 7 AM tomorrow morning,” I said, sighing and holding my head in my hands. “What should I do?”

  “Pray?” Kaye said.

  “Very funny,” I said.

  “You could bring a priest,” Kaye said. She raised her hand to stop my snarky reply in its tracks. “Actually, I’m being serious on this one. A man of Faith can be a powerful ally against a demon.”

  She sounded like she spoke from experience. Knowing Kaye, she probably was.

  “You really think I can find a priest who can help?” I asked, dubiously.

  There was the guy who blessed our office water cooler, but that was just a business arrangement—one that Kaye helped negotiate. I didn’t know any priests personally. It’s not like they’d been knocking down my door for psychic detective services. For all I knew, there was a commandment against it. I didn’t belong to a church and I wasn’t one for making friends. No, I couldn’t think of a priest willing to rush to my aid. If I lived through this, maybe I’d be nicer to men of the cloth in the future.

  Heck, I didn’t think I’d even be able to roust my own roommate to come to my aid on such short notice. We were heading into the weekend. The appointment with Forneus was scheduled for 7 AM on a Saturday. No sane person would be up at that hour. How was I supposed to enlist the last minute services of a priest?

  “I know a priest who works possessions and banishings,” Kaye said. “He’ll come if you ask.”

  “Really?” I asked. “That would be awesome. I hope you’re right.”

  “Oh, I think he’ll help defend a fair maiden against an evil demon, if you ask nicely enough,” Kaye said, winking. “Plus, Father Michael is very handsome.”

  Oberon’s eyes, she was nearly as bad as Jinx.

  “You think I can seduce a priest?” I asked. “Me. The girl who never dates? You give me way too much credit.”

  I didn’t have any intentions to begin dating, but I’d wasted enough breath trying to explain that particular quirk. For some reason, Jinx and Kaye couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t be delighted to get intimate with someone when the slightest touch could send me into a paroxysm of pain, with some serious potential for insanity. Right, I’m the crazy one.

  “Just don’t corrupt the poor man before facing your demon visitor,” Kaye said. “A deflowered priest wouldn’t have the same level of power as a man securely entrenched in his Faith.”

  Did she just say deflowered? Yuck, yuck, yuck.

  “Right, I’ll try not to do that,” I said, dryly.

  “Good,” Kaye said. “And, Ivy?”

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “Don’t forget that Forneus walked right through your wards and into an office filled with protection charms,” Kaye said. “I think this calls for a little more than a few Hail Mary’s.”

  “Never bring a knife to a gun fight?” I asked.

  “Something like that,” Kaye said, retrieving a packet of charms. “Here, take these. They may be useful if things go badly.”

  “Thanks,” I said, slipping the packet of charms into my bag. “So, what now?”

  I was starting to feel antsy. Fatigue was warring with nerves. Today had been long and crappy and it was far from over. Tomorrow’s appointment would come way too soon. I didn’t feel prepared. If the room wasn’t so cramped, I’d have paced a groove into the floor already. I settled for bouncing my knee up and down at the rate of a hummingbird’s h
eartbeat.

  “I’ll call ahead to let Father Michael know you are coming,” Kaye said. “You’d best be on your way if you hope to get there before dark.”

  “Which church am I walking to?” I asked.

  Maybe it would be St. Mary’s on Congress Street. Congress Street was uphill from here, but the walk would only take me about ten minutes, if I hurried.

  “Sacred Heart, on the hill,” Kaye said. “Now, run along dear. Don’t keep Father Michael waiting.”

  Mab’s bones! She was talking about Joysen Hill. If Congress Street was an uphill walk from here, then Joysen Hill was a veritable mountain and Sacred Heart was the creepy, gothic, stone peak. I wasn’t going to make it to Sacred Heart before dark. Not without taking a cab or hitching a ride. I wasn’t a fan of getting into taxi cabs, too many strangers leaving their psychic imprint on the upholstery, but hitching a ride was out of the question. I knew the monsters that preyed on lone, female hitchhikers. No, I’d rather face the dark.

  *****

  I left Kaye to her phone call and stepped back out into the stark service corridor. I considered making a detour to ask Hob for advice, but I just didn’t have time. A foul stench tickled my nose as I approached the kitchen door, making me almost glad I didn’t have a minute to spare. For Hob’s sake, I hoped he was hiding deep in his home beneath the hearth. Marvin was one smelly troll.

  Hand covering my nose and mouth, I rushed past the kitchen door and through the beaded curtain into the store itself. I dodged skeletal hands and pointy witch hats, nearly poking my eye out twice. The clutter of occult items and labyrinthine shop layout was frustrating. I wished that my second sight came with built in GPS. Now that would be a useful talent.

  Arachne’s face as I rounded the corner of the front counter was priceless. Her eyes widened like saucers and her mouth rounded into an O of fear. She squealed and jumped, knocking over a display of wind-up vampire teeth.