Return of the High Fae (Vegas Fae Story Book 1) (16 page)

The drive from Las Vegas to Pahrump takes an hour or two
from Las Vegas, depending on which side of the Valley you're coming from. For
me, it's about an hour and a half, if traffic cooperates. Although there are a
few things to look at, most of the trip is just desert. It gave me at least an
hour to reflect on the past week.

Last month I was just a normal guy, taking care of my
business, my house, and talking to my kids now and then. Now, things were
different. I mean, think of the simple pleasure of playing ball with your dog.
You throw it, he runs, catches it and brings it back. You do it again and
again. It's fun to do. At least it was for me and Charlie.

Now, I'm not saying it isn't fun anymore, but the dynamic
has changed. Especially when I throw the ball, miss the grass, and it ends up
in the rocks. Now he gives me a dirty look and I wince when he tells me that it
was a rotten throw. As if I didn't already know that!

On the other hand, I have to admit it's kind of awesome
finding out I can do magic, even if I haven't mastered it yet. It puts a whole
new perspective on all the fantasy tales I read as a child. All of a sudden I'm
living them. The downside, of course, is that there are folks out there who
want to kill me. Not to mention having to kill them, dark Wizards or not.

All right, I'll admit it. It's still pretty cool. I mean,
come on! How often do you get to carry a Viking seax? I know, being a cop or PI
may sound glamorous; but it's nothing compared to this. There were a few things
that still bothered me though. The first being that I didn't seem to be able to
summon the magic at will, and when it did kick in, it was almost
uncontrollable. Bernd had said it would take time, but I still had the feeling
he wasn't telling me everything. Next was the bastard king thing. Damn. If I
was some Faerie King, shouldn't I feel different? Where was this all leading?
What was I missing? I asked myself for what must be the hundredth time.

I arrived in Pahrump a little after 10:00 and wound my way
around town till I arrived at Ms. Truesdell's address. It was an older house,
well-kept, with a chain link fenced front yard. The one thing that makes
Pahrump different from Vegas, other than being a small town, is that it's still
a rural community. There were goats grazing in the front yard and chickens as
well. You don't see that in Vegas too often; at least not the goats.

I parked and went through the gate toward the screened door,
dodging goats as I went up the short stairway. The door opened before I could
knock.

Standing there was an attractive blonde woman in her 60's.
She was dressed in Wrangler jeans with a western shirt and wore reddish leather
cowboy boots. Her hair was pushed up in a headband and her sparkling eyes were
brown with a hint of hazel. "You must be Mr. Hoskins," she said with
a smile.

"I am, and you would be Ms. Truesdell?"

"Yep, but call me Mattie," she said with an almost
southern accent, as she held open the screen door. "Any friend of Hailey's
is welcome here. She said you were a good fellah."

"You talked to her?" I asked, entering the house.
The room was decorated in what can only be described as American cowboy.
Gnarled wood chairs and leather furniture offered a Texas-style flair. There
was even a pair of antlers used as a hat rack.

"Yep, a few minutes after you called. A girl can't be
too careful these days. I hope you don't mind," she remarked as she
gestured for me to sit on the couch.

"No, not at all. Better safe than sorry."

"She didn't tell me you were such a nice dresser. I
don't get many handsome men in suits here these days, unless of course, they're
trying to sell me something," she laughed. "Can I get you something
to drink? I just made some fresh coffee. I have sweet tea as well."

"Coffee would be nice. Cream and sweetener if you have
it. No problem if you don't." I looked around the room as she went into
the kitchen. The cowhide rug, twisted wood chairs and other western memorabilia
reminded me of an old movie set.

"Here you go," she said, putting a mug of coffee
down in front of me a minute or so later.

I took a sip and admired the logo on the mug. It was from
the old brothel. The logo had the name Venus and a caricature of the statue of
the Venus di Milo, only a bit more animated, if you get my meaning.

"That's an original," she said. "I saved a
bunch of them when we closed."

"I collect old cups and mugs myself although, I don't
have any like this," I admitted, admiring the artwork. Then I got down to
business.

"I don't want to take up too much of your time, so I'll
get down to why I'm here. I'm looking for a woman named Deborah Kent. At least,
that's the name I think she went by. I understand she may have had some
dealings with the Venus before it closed."

"Before we get to that," she said in a serious
tone, "I'll need to know why you want to find her. I'm not in the habit of
talking about folks needlessly, friend of Hailey or not. I know what you said
on the phone but I'd like to hear it in person. If she's in any trouble, I'll
need to know that, too. You understand."

I took a sip of the coffee. It was quite good. "No,
she's not in any trouble and it's not confidential. I've simply been asked to
return some property to her. It's an item of jewelry, if you must know. The
person who possessed this item wants to do the right thing and has agreed that
I will not provide him with her location, assuming I do find her. You have my
word on that. I hope that explains it well enough."

"I can live with that, I suppose," she said,
looking a bit relieved. "To be honest, she was a nice lady, even if she is
a bit different. I'd like to do something that will help her out." She
seemed to make a decision. "Ok. I'll show you where you can find
her."

She got up, went into a desk next to the front door, and
grabbed a pen and paper. She sat down and wrote out the directions to where
Deborah was staying. She came over with the paper, but hesitated, the note
still clutched in her hand. "Be careful when you see her. Like I said,
she's different."

"Different. What does that mean?" I asked, looking
up at her.

"Well, it's just that Deborah is very nervous around
strangers. I know you're doing something good for her, but you still need to be
careful around her."

I watched her closely. She looked almost scared as she
handed me the note. "Mattie, can you be a little more specific? I'm not
here to harm her, only to give her what is hers."

She sat down on the couch beside me. "I know that. I
guess you could call her eccentric. She never liked strangers, especially
women. And I got the feeling... well, I got the feeling she was running from
something."

"Any idea what she might be running from?" I
wondered if it could have something to do with the necklace.

"No, and I never asked. But she'd get queer if anyone
asked any questions about her past." She looked over at me with a thoughtful
but serious expression. "A lot of folks in that business are running from
something, even if it's just themselves. You learn not to ask. Just be
careful." Then she gave me a smile. "You're doing a good thing for
her. You just may need to convince her of that before she'll talk to you,
though."

I looked down at the hand drawn map. It showed an old
trailer near another closed brothel I knew about called the Ash Meadows Sky
Motel. It was next to an old airport runway northwest of town. She said it was
about a 30-minute drive.

"Ok, Mattie, thank you," I said as I patted her
hand in a reassuring way. As I started to get up she stopped me.

"Wait just a minute." She got up, and took my now
empty coffee mug and went into the kitchen. She returned a moment later and
handed it back to me. "Take this with you," she said. "For your
collection."

"Wow, that's really nice of you. Thank you." I
replied, admiring it again as she handed it to me.

She shrugged deprecatingly. "It was a good house and
maybe you'll remember us when you drink from it."

We walked to the door. She opened the screen door and held
it for me.

"I surely will," I said, and thanked her again as
I walked out to my car.

Afraid of strangers, I thought to myself. How do you get by
in a brothel if you're afraid of strangers? And why women?

I headed out of town and up Bell Vista Road. This eventually
turned into Ash Meadows. Turning off the main road, I headed up a dirt road and
drove around some type of strip mine that blocked the view of the old airstrip
that had served the brothel in the '60s.

Coming up parallel to what looked like a small hotel, I
spied the abandoned brothel. Its fenced in yard and empty pool were now filled
with leaves and other trash. I drove past the curve in the road and parked the
car near a stand of cottonwood trees. This is where the crude map said she
lived. I wasn't expecting to need my gun so I left it under the seat and put my
briefcase with the cash in the trunk. I removed the necklace and set out to
where the map said the trailer was.

Pausing beneath the trees, I looked around and finally saw
the roof of a trailer to my right. It was barely visible behind some large
brush. The place was concealed by the vegetation, but it fit the description
Mattie had given me. I walked across the deserted lot and around the large
bushes, until I could see the old trailer. It wasn't much to look at, but it
was situated in a nice spot. As I skirted the property, I saw there was a
natural spring off to the side of the trailer. There was also a well-tended
garden not far from the door.

There was something else, too. Not necessarily dangerous,
but concerning. The magic switch must have been in the on position, because I
sensed it warning me. That was the problem with my magical abilities. I hadn't
had them since childhood or learned them in school. They just kind of showed up
when they "felt" I needed them, as Bernd believed they would. I knelt
down and looked around before continuing.

The trailer sat on a parcel of semi-cleared desert. It
looked as if someone with a grader had swept a path so the trailer would be
level. That's when I noticed the perimeter. It was a lighter color than the
regular desert sand. I reached down and scooped a bit of it up with my hand.
The outer line was some kind of salt; courser than table salt, maybe a sea salt
variety. The inner line appeared to be crushed eggshells and possibly some type
of pepper and herbs. Something else was there as well. Crushed bones, maybe?

It looked like some kind of spell had been cast to protect
the occupant from evil spirits. It must not have been too powerful a spell
because I figured a threat would kick-start the magic like it had before and
this spell wasn’t having any real effect on me. Maybe it was a good thing I had
no evil intentions. I noticed several items that could be magic-related as I
walked to the door. Mint grew in the garden, and not all the desert sage had
been cleared from the yard. There was also a crude Gorgon's head, carved into a
piece of wood, hung above the door. I liked that one the best.

As I approached, a gray cat leapt onto the porch and stopped
at the top of the stairs. It turned to watch me.

I knelt down and heard a meow.

"What are you?" I felt her say. Hmm. So it's not
just my animals that I can talk to.

"A friend," I answered. "Or at least, I hope
to become one. Where is your mistress?"

"She is not my mistress," she purred. "You
are not like the others, but she will not see you."

"Well, I have come a long way to see her and see her I
must," I said, getting up and walking up the stairs. I will never
understand cats, I thought to myself, as she bounded away. I raised my hand to
knock on the trailer door, wondering who else might have visited.

"Hello? Ms. Kent," I called, knocking louder. The
door finally opened a bit and I could see a woman's face.

She looked very old, with wrinkled skin and long gray hair.
However, I could still see the youth in her blue eyes. She was dressed simply
in a rumpled, faded blue dress that hung loosely and she was barefoot. "I
don't want any! Go away!" she barked, closing the door on me.

"I just need a moment of your time Ms. Kent. Or should
I call you Diantha?" I responded, blocking her from fully closing the
door. "I think you'll want to know what I have to say."

"How do you know that name?" she asked, holding
the door open a crack.

"I was asked to find you, by an old friend."

"I have no friends," she replied, and started to
close the door again.

Now I don't normally take the forceful approach when dealing
with a witness or a target, but hell, I knew what she was, or at least what
she'd been. I doubted I would be facing a lawsuit here. "I really need to
speak with you, Ms. Kent." I pushed the door open a bit.

She backed away and then lunged toward me. I spun to the
side and reaching out, grabbed her wrist. With my other hand I removed the
dagger she held. I'd like to say my magic protected me, but to be honest, it
was probably just the years of police training. Looking at the dagger, I
realized it was very old and appeared to be made of iron.

"Why are you here?" she asked. I let go of her
wrist and followed her into the trailer's small living area.

"As I said, I've come at the request of an old
friend." I held up the dagger. "Not exactly a pleasant way to greet
someone," I said, slipping it into my belt.

"You forced your way in. Why shouldn't I protect
myself?"

She had me there.

"What do you want then? I am just an old woman, leave
me be," she exclaimed as she sat down at a small table. She rested her
head in her hands, looking for all the world like a frail, dejected old woman.

"A moment of your time is all I ask. I am looking for a
Diantha, who used to work in a carnival under the name of Pythia. Is that
you?" I asked, standing across from her.

"Why do you want to know?"

I looked around the place. It was small and sparsely
furnished. Nothing more than an old loveseat, the table she sat at, and in the
corner, a three-legged stool. That room led to a small kitchen on one side and
what appeared to be a bedroom on the other.

The stool interested me. It was about four feet high and
looked as if it was made from bronze. There was also a shallow dish of the same
metal on the stand next to it. Everything was old, but the stool still looked
beautiful. According to legend, the real Oracle at Delphi sat on just such a
stool when she had her visions. "An interesting piece," I said as I
walked over and began tracing the serpent design on the seat with my fingers.
"It looks very old."

"It's just an old stool," she said as she stood up
and walked toward me. Moving between me and the stool she placed her hand on
the seat and then turned toward me, her attitude changing. "Why are you
here?"

"I told you. I'm looking for a woman named Diantha
Medea, or Kent, that used to work in a carnival with William Harrison."

"Do not speak his name," she proclaimed.
"Leave now if he sent you!"

Wow! I could feel the strength in her words. I now knew she
was who I had come for. I also understood why Milagre had warned me about the
power of her voice. Despite the appearance of old age; influence oozed off of
her as she spoke. I could almost see it, like wisps of smoke flowing outward
from her.

She turned away from me for a moment. I thought she was
going for another weapon but she turned back and pointed to the door. "I
command you to leave!" She must have expected her words to have some
effect on me and I saw that she was startled when I didn't move.

I almost laughed, thinking, mind tricks don't work on me...
but I thought better of it. Besides, I didn't know if she'd even seen the movie.
I looked her over for a moment. "I think not," I said instead.

"You are of the Fae," she noted, appearing
startled, with just a hint of fear creeping into her voice and expression.

"Look, let's start over, shall we? I'm Robert Hoskins
and I have something that belongs to you." I pulled the pouch out of my
pocket and opened it, removing the necklace. I held it up to show her.
"Look familiar?"

She walked towards me slowly, as if in a trance. "The
eye! Has Apollo forgiven me then?" She took the necklace and fell to her
knees in front of me. There were tears in her eyes.

I have to admit, that caught me off guard. I knelt down next
to her, watching as she held the necklace in her hands and cried. Apollo? Where
the hell had she been all this time? "Apollo is gone. He will not return
to this world," I answered.

"Gone," she gasped. "But he was High Fae, one
of the Gods! I knew that they fled this world; but surely they will
return."

"I'm sorry, but he's not coming back."

High Fae? What the hell was a High Fae? If I really was a
bastard king and the male heir of Demeter, would I fit the bill? I needed to
find out more, without revealing too much, or showing my lack of knowledge.

"Then I am lost, for only he could return it to me.
Wait," she asked, looking hopeful. "What of Artemis, or Hephaestus,
or even Poseidon? Surely one of them must have returned."

"They too are gone. Gods or not, they destroyed
themselves."

"Destroyed themselves? Then the Eye is lost to
me," she muttered. "What is left? Only one of the most High could
have saved me."

"Perhaps there is still something I can do."

She stood up, her tears of grief replaced by anger and
frustration. "Fool! It is worthless now," she said as she held up the
necklace. "This is a Dragon's eye. Once lost, it is but a curse. Only by
gift can it be returned, if it is to be of any worth, and even then, only if
gifted by one the Gods. Look at me! At least five thousand years of life was I
granted, true. But by losing the Eye, my youth and beauty have fled. How do you
not know this?" she screamed, pulling at her hair. "Lost, I am
lost!" She threw the necklace on the floor and walked back over to the
stool.

Five thousand years? Damn! Well, at least she was back to
her mean spirited self. I picked the necklace up as I stood. Change of plan—if
I really was what Bernd said, I needed to find out what that was. There's
nothing like living the fantasy. I also knew that while she may have lost her
youth, she was still much more than just an old lady. Besides, Werewolves were
after me and I wasn't satisfied that my parents' deaths had been an accident.
And lest I forget, someone out there was killing powerful Fae. The world was
turning fast for me and it wouldn't hurt to have another ally at this point.

"Ok, so do you want to keep feeling sorry for yourself
or do you want to get out of this dump?" I asked, trying a different
approach.

She was leaning over the stool, her head resting on the
seat. "There was a time when I would have had your eyes and tongue pulled
from your head for such a remark; whatever you may be," she proclaimed.
She swept her hands down the front of her body. "Don't you see? I am
trapped in this decrepit form because of the actions of a human I favored. A
foolish mistake that I must pay for till the end of time. What, then, is
left?" Her tears had stopped and her sorrow had been replaced with anger.
Still, that beat an old lady sobbing.

"Well, anything's gotta be better than hiding out
here," I said as I plopped down on the loveseat and gestured around the
room. "You may not look young, but you still have power in your voice...
and they do say that 70 is the new 50 these days, or so I've been told."

She didn't catch the humor.

"Come with me. If nothing else, you'll be more
comfortable." I didn't tell her I was going to try to figure out how to
make the necklace work. I might not be able to.

"Whom do you serve and how did you come upon the Eye?
Tell me this before I give my answer," she challenged, standing upright
and staring at me, defiant once again.

I sensed a hint of change in her voice. This wasn't the poor
old pissed off grandma bit. This was something more. "I'll tell you what;
I have some time. I'll answer yours if you answer mine." Oh great, now I'm
speaking in rhyme.

"Agreed," she answered, perking up at the comment.

Well, that was quick! "As to who I serve? I serve no
one in the way that I think you mean. As to the necklace, there I do serve a
purpose. A friend asked me to find you and return it. I got it from the man
that took it from you, I already told..."

"Do not speak his name!" she yelled, cutting me
off. "May he be cursed and suffer Hades' punishment for all
eternity!" She walked over to me, her hands on her hips. "Why do you
mock me?"

"Mock you?" I asked as I stood up. "How have
I mocked you?"

She pointed her finger at me. "Do you truly expect me
to believe that you were not sent by my enemies? You know the Eye is now lost
to me. Who sent you to torment me?"

I reached out and gently removed her hand from in front of
my face. "I promise you, Diantha. What I have said is true. The one that
took the necklace regrets his actions and wants only peace before he dies. He
is an old man now. No one has sent me to torment you. The old Gods are gone.
Good or bad, it's a different world now. Surely you know this to be true."

She pulled her hand away and looked down. "Regrets? He
knows nothing of regrets, may he burn forever. But the Gods, augh... I feared
it was true. I prayed that it was not, but it has been so long. What a fool I
have been."

"So what happened?" I wasn't sure if she was going
to answer.

"Very well. I was deceived. He did not understand what
I was, nor did he understand the power and curse of the Eye. I did love him, as
best I was able, but it wasn't enough. He betrayed me," she said after a
moment, then she turned and walked back to the table, sitting down. "Now I
am only what you see, an old woman."

I walked over and sat down across from her.

"I have not heard from Apollo in over two thousand
years. But still, I did not think him truly dead, only in hiding. I thought
that he would be angry when he returned and saw that I had lost the Eye, so I
hid." She hesitated, and then continued. "The Gods, do you know what
happened to them?"