Martin Millar - The Good Fairies of New York.html (14 page)

Aelis agreed that this was possible and promised to find out from one of her contacts, a handmaiden at the royal palace, the precise standing of the King's stepdaughter.

The rest of the guerrilla unit stole silently into the barn in preparation for the night's raid.

On the problem of how Morag was to obtain the MacPherson Fiddle from Dinnie, Kerry had a useful suggestion.

'Offer Dinnie something better than Heather has. Then he would give you the fiddle.'

Morag considered this. It seemed like a good idea.

'Except I don't know what that scumbag of a MacPherson has offered,' complained the fairy, and spat on the floor.

'In that case you will have to offer him what he wants most in all the world. And as he seems like a lonely soul, I imagine what he would most like is a nice girlfriend. Unless he is gay, in which case he would like a nice

boyfriend.'

Morag fluttered across the road.

'Dinnie,' she asked. 'Are you gay or straight?'

'How dare you!' roared Dinnie, and threw a cup at her.

She fluttered back.

'That probably means he is straight, though somewhat prejudiced,' explained Kerry.

'Then I will bargain with him for a girlfriend,' declared Morag. 'Although finding anyone who would want to go out with that abusive lump will be a sore test.'

Heather stared sadly at the corpse in the doorway. Two policemen were attending to it.

'I can't understand why these tramps keep dying in East 4th,' said one, and the other shook his head. This made eight in the past few weeks.

'Phone Linda at 970 F—U—C—K for the hottest two-girl sex in town.'

Dinnie was watching television.

'I presume you are now fully expert in New York music?' said Heather, appearing in the sudden way which was so distressing to Dinnie. She switched off the TV and worked the cassette.

'Who's this?'

'The Velvet Underground.'

'Wrong. It is the Ramones. What about this one?'

'Band of Susans.'

'Wrong. It is Suicide. You have failed. Listen to the tape again. I am going to sleep, but do not worry about disturbing me. I am becoming fonder of that funny sweet American whisky and am now able to drink more of it.'

file:///Users/lisa/Downloads/Martin%20Millar%20-%20The%20Good%20Fairies%20of%20New%20York.html

Page 47 of 99

Martin Millar - The Good Fairies of New York.html

6/5/11 2:11 PM

'You mean you're drunk.'

'Drunk? Me? A MacKintosh fairy?' Heather laughed, and slumped on the bed.

Kerry was enormously depressed about everything. Her flower alphabet, while growing steadily, was missing its most important component. Her disease did not seem to be getting any better, which made her drink more, which made her more depressed afterwards. And seeing Cal on stage with his band had been a sore trial.

Kerry wished that he had stayed with her and carried out his promise to teach her all the New York Dolls guitar solos.

'I miss Cal,' she told Morag. 'And even throwing a bottle at him and ruining his gig has not driven him out of my mind.'

'Find a new man,' suggested Morag. 'While I'm finding a new woman for Dinnie.'

Kerry said that this was not so easy.

Morag stared at the adverts on the back page of
Village Voice.

'Transvestites, Singles, Bi's, Gays, all welcome, Club Edelweiss, West 29th St.'

'Young man on Brooklyn bound 'B' train, Thursday 6/21, light jeans, got off Dekalb Ave, I was too shy to talk, would like to hear from you.'

'I see that it can be difficult to make relationships here.'

When Dinnie once more failed to identify any of the bands correctly, both he and Heather were frustrated. Dinnie had come round to agreeing that it was a good idea, but he could not manage a single right answer.

'They all sound the same to me. I'll never be able to tell Cop Shoot Cop from the Swans. Kerry will never fall in love with me.'

Heather pursed her lips. This was proving to be more difficult than she had imagined.

She fingered her kilt. Back in Scotland Heather had ripped it deliberately to outrage her mother, but now, after so much travelling, it was in danger of disintegrating completely. She took out her dirk, and cut a little piece from one of Dinnie's cushion covers to make a bright patch. Perhaps while sewing she would find some inspiration. If she had known what Morag across the street was thinking she would have agreed. This city was a difficult place to make relationships. The way things were going, Dinnie might as well phone up 970 C—U—N—T and get on with

it.

Still, she thought, there was always the flower. This poppy with its three blooms seemed like a very special sort of flower. She was sure that once Dinnie presented it to Kerry she would look on him favourably.

It rained - a strange warm rain that was unfamiliar to Morag. In Scotland the rain had been cold, cheerless and grey. This warm summer rain disquieted her, though she could not say why.

'Kerry, I have just had a good idea.'

'Yes?'

'About Dinnie and the fiddle. The idea that he might swap it for love is very sound. However, what are the

chances of any woman falling in love with him?' Slim, they both agreed.

'So,' continued Morag, 'I will be unable to make a true bargain with him. There is only one thing to do.' 'What?'

'Be deceitful.' 'You mean lie?'

'Not exactly. If I were able to lie to humans I could simply steal the fiddle, but if I did that, terrible things would follow. As you have already observed, fairy karma is a bitch. Me and my clan might be cursed for generations.

'So I will merely bend the truth a little. Bending the truth a little is a respectable fairy tradition.

'I will gain the instrument and return to Scotland in triumph. I will be forgiven everything. My clan will no longer shun me for playing Ramones riffs on my fiddle. The MacLeods will not bother me any more as I will be a

file:///Users/lisa/Downloads/Martin%20Millar%20-%20The%20Good%20Fairies%20of%20New%20York.html

Page 48 of 99

Martin Millar - The Good Fairies of New York.html

6/5/11 2:11 PM

Scottish hero. Quite possibly I will be made sole recipient of the junior fiddling prize. Evil MacKintosh objections will wither away in the face of such a mighty feat. Yes, I am sure that deceit is the best way forward.'

'So what do you plan to do?'

'I will pretend to Dinnie that I could convince you to be his girlfriend. He is bound to go for it. You would be a girlfriend away and beyond his wildest dreams. Whatever that raghead Heather has offered him will look paltry by comparison. All it will require is for you to lead him on a little. Once I have the fiddle, you can tell him to go boil his head.'

Dinnie, in addition to listening to rock music, was under standing instructions to keep an eye on the street below in case Kerry appeared. Once she did he was to hurry down and present her with the Welsh poppy.

'It will be an excellent introduction,' Heather assured him.

Unfortunately when Kerry did appear in the street, hurrying between her apartment and the deli for some beer, Dinnie's nerve failed him and she returned home before he could work up the nerve to accost her.

'You fat useless lump,' said Heather, and roundly criticised him as a disgrace to the fighting MacKintoshes.

'Give me the flower!' she said, seeing that she would have to start the process herself. 'I will take it to her and tell her it is a present from you. Now I think about it, this will be even better. Any young woman receiving a present of a flower from a fairy can hardly fail to be impressed. She will fall into your arms.'

This decided, she placed the poppy in her bag, slung it over her shoulder and departed, promising as she did to bring some money home for the rent.

Back in Cornwall, Aelis had bad news for Aelric.

Marion, the King's stepdaughter, apparently got on unusually well with Tala, and also with her mother. They were a notably happy family.

'How depressing,' said Aelric. 'And Tala such a monster as well. Still, I remember seeing in the library that Hitler was a good family man so perhaps it is not so surprising. It just goes to show that step-parents get a bad press.

What am I going to do now? I have twelve followers, not nearly enough to disrupt the Cornish fairy economy, and a hopeless passion for the King's stepdaughter.'

Aelis took a swig of mead for her flask and considered the matter.

'Well, Aelric, you must find some way to win her heart. Of course, burning down her father's property will always put a bit of a damper on the relationship, but maybe something will turn up. My contact at court tells me she is very fond of flowers so perhaps you could do something in that direction. As for recruiting more followers, we must get on with distributing our propaganda leaflets.'

This, while a good idea, was proving to be a problem. With the strongest flyers from Tala's army guarding the airspace above all his most vital institutions and population centres, the rebels had been unable to distribute a single one.

Heather's day had started off well after a few drams and a visit to the West Village to look round the expensive art galleries and shops. After that it had gone seriously downhill. She now hung on grimly to the rear mud-guard of a speeding motorbike as it thundered round the corner at Delancy and Allen. Behind her, twenty Italian fairies hung on to the roof of a wailing ambulance in hot pursuit.

'What sort of motorbike courier are you?' she yelled furiously as the bike stopped at an intersection. 'Jump the lights!'

Behind her the ambulance had also halted, but the Italian fairies, using their unusual affinity with the wind currents, swept forward through the air from one vehicle to the next. When the lights changed and Heather's bike took off they were no more than four vehicles behind.

Heather had robbed the Bank d'Italia one time too many. They had been waiting for her outside and she had been caught red-handed with a sporran full of dollars.

Racing up Allen Street and over Houston, Heather began to despair. The Italian fairies had transferred themselves on to a fire truck and were gaining fast.

At the last moment, as the fire truck drew level and her pursuers prepared to leap across, Heather, in desperation, file:///Users/lisa/Downloads/Martin%20Millar%20-%20The%20Good%20Fairies%20of%20New%20York.html

Page 49 of 99

Martin Millar - The Good Fairies of New York.html

6/5/11 2:11 PM

jumped blindly out into 2nd Street. She was then extremely fortunate. A small and fast foreign sports car, which at that moment was being pursued by the police, screeched by and she caught hold of the aerial. The car carried her along 2nd Street and into Avenue A while her pursuers, taken by surprise, disappeared from view on the fire truck.

Heather's car was brought to a halt by police gun-fire at the end of 4th Street and she slipped off to hurry home.

Morag was out taking the air and saw her frantic arrival.

'What on earth have you been doing?' she said. 'Why are the police shooting at you?'

'They're not shooting at me, you idiot,' exclaimed Heather. 'Oh no!'

The Italian fairies reappeared, cruising their way along on a Ford with music blasting out of the huge speakers built into the rear of the chassis.

'Get her!' they screamed.

The two Scottish fairies leapt on to a cab and fled.

The moonbow stretched from Cornwall to Manhattan and on it marched the mercenaries. At their head was

Werferth, a ferocious Red Cap from the Northern borders of England. Behind him marched three red-haired Pechs from Scotland and at their sides trotted three Cu Sidth dogs with green fur and malevolent eyes.

The company contained more of the frightening border Red Caps along with Bwbachods from Wales, Spriggans

from Cornwall and various other fierce creatures. They had gold in their pockets, a half-payment from Magris, and they did not anticipate any difficulty in earning the rest. The moonbow bent and warped space and distance,

making the journey between Britain and America no more than a day's march. America was now in sight and they

quickened their pace.

'Well, if you continually rob banks you have to expect this sort of thing!' whispered Morag.

They were hiding on a fire escape at the bottom of Orchard Street.

'Maybe,' whispered Heather. 'But I swear that when they were screaming abuse at me from the fire truck they said something about being continually plundered by
two
fairies in kilts.'

'Was that a firecracker?' muttered Morag. 'I did not quite see which way the cab took us. Are we anywhere near Chinatown?'

There was a sudden shout from above.

'It's them!'

They looked up and groaned. Swarming down the fire escape was an army of Chinese fairies, yelling in triumph.

Some way behind the mercenaries, the warriors from the MacLeod clan strode easily over the moonbow. They

were clad in dark leather tunics and their kilts were green with stripes of yellow and red.

The four were sisters; their names were Ailsa, Seonaid, Mairi and Rhona and their home was on the banks of Loch Dunvegan in the west of the Isle of Skye. They lived in sight of Dunvegan Castle, ancestral home of the

MacLeods of MacLeod, leaders of the human branch of the clan.

The MacLeods had fought many fierce battles in the distant past. There had been a time when the human

MacLeods had waged continual war on the MacDonalds of Eigg, their hereditary enemies, and the MacLeod

fairies had done likewise with the MacDonald fairies.

The MacLeod fairies and humans had been closely allied since the far distant time when Malcolm MacLeod, chief of the human clan, married a shape-changing fairy wife. They had a son before she went back to her own folk, and the legendary MacLeod Fairy Banner was a gift to the son. It was a thing of great power and could never be

unfurled except in times of dire need.

On one occasion during battle with the MacDonalds, the MacLeods were on the point of defeat. Their chief