The Deer Prince's Murder: Book Two of 'Fantasy & Forensics' (Fantasy & Forensics 2) (27 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Warm mist flowed from between my lips like steam from the spout of a boiling tea kettle. Ice rimed the bare tree trunks around me. I shivered. It was a frigid December in the woods of Pike County, Illinois.

I’d just turned seven.

I took a step, heard a crunch and looked down. As I half-expected, instead of seeing the little pink wigwam boots I’d worn back then, I saw something else. My thick-soled black boots that I wore for my crime-scene investigation work. I’d nicknamed them my ‘stompy gothic boots of doom’, and for good reason.

They kept corpse juice out of my socks. And they kept snow out too, as I plowed my way through the drifts, following the blood trail that stood out against the snow. The line of droplets meandered drunkenly between the trees, tracing the path of the dying Fayleene doe my father had shot all those years ago.

I followed the trail back towards my family’s house. The glow of the Christmas lights from our porch made the icicles that perched along the edge of our frozen gutter sparkle red and green, like iridescent glow-sticks. I’d never noticed that before.

My feet carried me along the side of our driveway, past our beat-up station wagon and up to the garage’s side door. I reached out to grab the knob. Lime-green flecks of paint flaked off on my glove as I turned it.

I pushed the door open.

Smell of paint thinner and gasoline and blood.

The all-weather bulb inside the garage hung from the rafters by a single paint-spattered cord. Daddy’s orange hunting vest was streaked with red. He knelt before the white, coffin-shaped chamber, sobbing as he gazed upon the bony nubs of antler that projected from within.

My insides turned to water as the Fayleene doe sat up in the freezer with a dull
thump
.

Her eyes were the soft brown of kitten fur, and so full of life that it made me ache inside.

“This wasn’t your fault, you know,” she said.

“It…it wasn’t?” I gasped.

My father stopped crying. His hands dropped to his sides and his face had taken on a look of amazement and disbelief. The Fayleene doe spoke to him as she climbed out of the freezer, hale and whole.

“You’ve been weeping over my death for long enough,” she said gently. “It is time for both of you to forgive yourselves.”

“I didn’t know what you were,” my father said. “Please, you must believe me.”

“I believe you. What happened between us was a horrible quirk of fate, but one we must put aside. For the sake of your daughter. She has no dark secret to hide.”

“Yes,” my father choked out, and his tears finally stopped flowing. “Dayna, forgive me…I was out of my mind with grief. What I said…it was out of love, but the way it came out turned it into something bad. Something that kept cropping up here, in your dreams.”

“I forgive you, Daddy,” I said, and somehow, even as an adult, I managed to fold myself in his arms. I felt his strength, his warmth, his fatherly love radiate through his hunting jacket and into my soul. He held me for a moment, and then I stepped back to look at the Fayleene again. I knelt in front of her, the way I’d knelt in front of Liam as he’d finally claimed his place among his people. “Thank you for forgiving me.”

A smile of sorts crossed her deer face. “You knew that you had no guilt for what happened on that day.”

“I knew it there,” I said, pointing at my head. The doe nodded as I went on. “But I had to hear it from you. So that I would know it
here
.”

And I pointed at my heart.

The doe leaned forward and kissed me on my forehead.

I woke in my old bed. My old house, back in Los Angeles. An unseasonably cold morning sun peeked in through the window. The first thing I did was to feel my forehead. Seeking out the damp spot where the doe had bestowed her kiss upon me.

A Gallic chuckle from beside the bed.

At least this time, I didn’t scream like a little girl as I turned my head to see the big, black pooka standing by my bed. He looked faintly amused.

“Destry!” I said, as I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “I was wondering if you were going to stop by. After our time on the beach…no one’s seen or heard from you over the past few days. Are you all right?”

“
Suis bien.
I am well enough, Dayna,” he said, with a horsey shrug. “I am wandering the world, thinking things over. Trying to understand my place in it.”

I got up, stretched, and then straightened out my cotton top and capri pajama pants. Somewhat belatedly, I realized that things definitely had changed in my life. I mean, magical nightmare horses showing up in my bedroom hardly fazed me anymore.

“If you need to bend someone’s ear, you know that my door’s always open, right?”

“My kind do not use doors, Dayna.”

“
Touché
,” I admitted. “But you know what I mean. And you might also consider speaking more with Liam of the Fayleene.”

“The new Protector?
Pourquoi?
”

“He knows what it’s like to be where you are.”

Destry mulled that one over for a bit as I padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, following the blessedly caffeinated smell of my coffee maker. I’d set the timer so that I’d have a fresh pot upon waking. I poured myself a cup, inhaled, and then took a sip before my pooka friend spoke again.

“I will definitely be visiting the Fayleene woods – the new woods, that is. And…I was wondering if you might answer a question that occurred to me in my travels last night.”

I took a bigger sip, one that threatened to morph into a full-bore slurp. “Be my guest.”

“I sensed your distress when you learned that the
pouquelaye
would likely un-make me. That is, if you could not find out what was wrong with me.”

“I was ‘distressed’, yes.”

“But it occurred to me…while you and your friends did speak up on my behalf, I did not sense fear or distress from you right before Reveé made up her mind. To let me live, and not return me to the ether. Why was that?”

I smiled. “I knew that at the worst, they would banish you. That’s not pleasant, but it’s a lot less final than death. Or ‘un-making’, as you ethereals seem to put it. Again, talk to Liam. He’s trodden the same path.”

“But you knew that they would not ‘kill’ me?”

“I had a hunch. And I think I’ve confirmed it, if you’re interested.”

Destry snorted. “Of course,
chére!
”

I went over to the kitchen table, where I’d spread out the Codex and Zenos’ translation book. I flipped through the Codex’s pages, over to one that I’d marked with a sticky note.

“There’s still an awful lot of unanswered questions,” I began. “For example, how many people know about this ‘Great War’ besides Rocky and Sirrahon. But I can tell you one thing: at least some of the peoples mentioned in the Codex know what’s coming. And I think they’re already moving behind the scenes.”

“You mean the dragons. The demons. The griffin elders.”

“Yes, and one more.” I tapped the page about halfway down, where I’d put a couple more stickies crammed with my shorthand notes. “I’ve been reading through the translation book. It’s tough going, but I think it’s helped me figure out a couple more of the words from the Codex. And there’s one you’ll find fascinating.”

The pooka craned his neck to see over my shoulder as I went on.

“On the side of the ‘Creatures of the Light’, there’s two runes stacked together, naming one of the peoples. The first rune means ‘horse’. The second, I believe, is ‘dream walker’.”

Destry let out a startled whicker of surprise. “My people…the
pouquelaye?
”

I nodded. “And that got me thinking about one last thing. When your people first dropped you off here, they didn’t ask me to simply ‘help you overcome your fears’. They were very specific. They said, ‘one of our number cannot fulfill the function for which he was born’.”

“Then the reason I was born…
c’est incroyable
…”

“Yes. I think it’s an awfully big coincidence that a pooka was born who could mentally dominate an enemy. It would be a big advantage if this war of theirs actually came to pass. And that gives me hope that in time, they’ll accept you back into your herd.”

“Why?”

“Because they can’t afford not to.”

Destry made a little bow. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Dayna.
Merci
. Sleep well, for I think you shall have fewer nightmares from now on.”

He faded away with a little
whoosh
.

I got up, set my coffee aside, and went to look at the calendar. I’d been so busy, that I’d forgotten which day it was. Saturday, as it happened.

I considered for a moment.

Maybe Destry’s not the only one who needs to find out where he stands,
I thought.
It’s worth a shot, anyway.

I picked up my phone and unhooked it from the charger. Then I scrolled through the list of numbers and selected the one I wanted.

Three rings, and a pickup.

“Hello?” said a sleepy, but pleasantly surprised male voice.

“Alanzo,” I greeted him, “I’m sorry that I’m calling so early…I just didn’t want to take the chance of missing you.”

“
De nada
,” he said, chuckling. “I said you could call me anytime, and I meant it.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” I cleared my throat, tried to summon up the same courage that I’d tapped into when I’d met Sirrahon. “I was wondering…if you have any time today, or this evening…would you like to get together?”

“I think I can move some things around,” he said, and I could hear the beam of his smile over the phone. “The thing with your friend…did it get taken care of?”

“Mostly. The proverbial can of worms, if you know what I mean.”

“Well…care to tell me about it over some dim sum? How about that place on Hill and Sixth, ’round half-past-ten?”

It was my turn to beam. Alanzo knew that I loved Chinese cuisine in all forms, even for brunch.

“You’re on. Meet you there?”

“Count on it, Dayna.”

I hung up the phone and went back to the bedroom to get dressed.

Yes, it was just my luck.

It looked like the start of a beautiful day.

The End

# # #

Thanks for Reading!

Hello, and I hope you enjoyed reading
The Deer Prince’s Murder
. Transforming Dayna into a Fayleene and introducing a dream-horse with a dreamy French accent was a great deal of fun to write!

When I wrote this book, people asked a) if the ‘Old War’ is indeed put to bed, b) if Vazura is really dead, and c) if we’ll be seeing Destry again. In order, the answers are Nope, Yup, and a qualified yes…we’ll be eventually seeing Destry again in the *cough cough* flesh, but we’ll be seeing the consequences of his actions causing serious trouble for Dayna in Book Three,
Grand Theft Griffin
!

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If you liked this book, I’d truly appreciate a review on Amazon. These days, readers like you have tremendous influence in making (or un-making) a book!

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[email protected]
.

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Thank you for reading
The Deer Prince’s Murder
and for spending time with me in Andeluvia again.

Michael Angel