A Study in Spirits Read online

  The smooth brown dome of King Ladislas’ head showed a throbbing vein at his temple that could be seen from five paces away. Logan quickened his step and stopped in front of him, giving the king a quick bow.

  “Your highness, let me introduce you to Celia Rivers, a bondmate of your daughter’s.”

  King Ladislas crossed his arms at Celia’s gasp. It might have been at the mention of royalty for Brigit’s father was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the LOTTOS name. It was nothing like the Elizabethan doublet and hose or the toga Logan had last seen him wearing.

  He looked incongruous in the informal wear as no modern clothes could remove the dignified bearing of a royal fae elf. The king stated in a disdaining, condescending air, “Brigit Cullen is my daughter. Now move aside so I may enter the abode where she resides.”

  While Celia’s cheeks were now bright pink from embarrassment, she did not move aside. She nodded towards Logan. “Your admittance is dependent upon Logan Dannon. He is the householder here. The lease is in his name.”

  Before the king could speak, Logan asked Celia, “I take it Brigit isn’t here?”

  “She and Jib are making their way back through France,” she replied, keeping her eyes trained on Logan’s face. “I’m expecting her back at any moment.”

  One of the things Brigit had drummed into her human roommate last school year was the importance of keeping boundaries when it came to the fae. So while it seemed rude to his standards to keep Brigit’s father standing outside, Logan knew he needed a pledge of good manners before he allowed Brigit’s father admittance.

  Logan gave the king another bow, asking, “If you would like to enter our home, are you willing to abide under the rules of common Guest Law?”

  “Yes,” King Ladislas replied shortly. With a nod from Logan, Celia retreated from the doorway, stepping into the kitchen. Logan followed Ladislas, and the two walked through the short hall, passing Celia, to stand in the common living area.

  The place seemed smaller than it usually did, which had to do with Ladislas. He filled up the room, making the furniture seem fit for only a dollhouse. He was taller than Logan, with bulky muscle that provided little space between earlobes and shoulders. He was a Henry VIII figure before that English king ran to fat. Right now, thought Logan, he was Othello. The question was if Logan was about to be strangled.

  The king wasn’t wearing a sword, but that didn’t make him feel less threatening.

  Logan calmly set his suitcases and violin down on the couch, and ventured, “Would you like to leave a message for Brigit? Did she know you were coming?”

  Instead of answering Logan, Ladislas addressed his next words to Celia. The woman had hung back like a deer ready to startle.

  “This bard claims you as bondmate of my daughter. What court do you pay loyalty to?”

  “Queen Corallina.”

  “Ah,” his look was considering, measuring everything about her. She was a few years older than Logan, about his height, with an oval face, large sea-green eyes, and wavy chestnut hair.

  “What degree of your connection do you have with my daughter, naiad?”

  “We’ve shared meals.”

  “Yet you don’t know her father?” scoffed Ladislas, adding, “You’ve tied yourself to my court without knowing who would call upon your bond. What would Queen Corallina say to that?”

  “We both understand the Laws of Civility, your highness. However, perhaps you do not credit your daughter with enough sense. I’m not bound to you and yours. Brigit and I have an understanding that our bondmate ties are limited to those we know attending the university.”

  There was a moment of silence before Ladislas admitted with grudging respect, “I ask because my daughter, in her naivete, has extended her protection to a human.”

  Ladislas drawled out the last word as if he was talking about cockroaches and gave Logan a raking glance up and down. With his ears burning, Logan replied abruptly, “Perhaps it’s best you should return later when Brigit is here? Or Jib?”

  Ladislas exploded, denouncing the púca.

  “Jib is nothing but a duplicitous rascal! Like all True Beasts, it is bound to its cat nature and cares only for itself. It was supposed to keep us informed of my daughter’s whereabouts. Except for one note sent some time ago, we’ve heard nothing!”

  Celia and Logan diplomatically remained silent. In the quiet, the naiad’s cell phone gave a loud ding. Affronted at the interruption, King Ladislas turned away and ignored them both.

  “Sorry, excuse me.” Celia dodged back into the kitchen and pulled her phone out of her purse, sitting on the counter. Reading a text, she reluctantly told Logan, “Sorry, I’ve got to go meet a potential roommate. Will you be okay if I go…?”

  She rolled her eyes towards the king’s back.

  “Sure,” Logan said, trying to infuse his voice with confidence. “He’s really here to see Brigit so —.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure —?” The naiad said, slinging the purse strap over her shoulder and edging towards the door. “I appreciate you letting me take the place over for the summer. It all worked out as my roommate wanted my old place for her and her boyfriend.”

  “Great,” said Logan as he opened the door for her. Before he could close it, Celia leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure? He’s powerful magic. Do you want back-up? I could text Granite?”

  Thinking about the good-natured, but rather socially clumsy wrestler, Logan was quick to reassure Celia that he would be fine. After all, he survived a trip to the Perilous Realm; he could do this.

  Logan closed the door and turning saw a dash of movement from the corner of his eye from the kitchen. He murmured to the brownie, “Let me deal with it.”

  “Keep yer heid,” the brownie cautioned him.

  Brigit’s father was walking around the living room, looking out the window, and inspecting the furniture. His tour finally stopped at the couch, where he stared down at Logan’s luggage as if it offended him.

  There was too much silence.

  “Would you like a piece of cake? There’s probably some beer in the fridge. Or coffee?”

  “You did not eat anything from our royal table when you visited us. Why would I accept what meager offerings you might have at your hearth?”

  From Logan’s visit to Brigit’s court, he knew food in the human lands was far better tasting than anything in the fae world.

  “Maybe because it’s delicious human food, baked by a brownie?”

  “Break bread with you?” asked Ladislas sharply. “Do you truly grasp, human, what this Guest Right would demand of me?”

  “Not really,” replied Logan. He knew sharing food had significance according to the fae Laws of Civility. However, his lessons with Brigit lacked details.

  Without waiting for an answer, he left to the small kitchen. Retrieving a knife from a drawer, he cut the cake. He paused a moment, looking at the blade and thinking over the possibility of using it, before setting it down on the counter. It took two trips to bring out saucers of cake with forks, and the two bottles of beer.

  Perhaps it was jet lag starting to set in that made Logan sit down in the presence of fae royalty, but he was beginning to feel drained. Besides, sitting on the sofa made it easier to eat cake and drink beer.

  After finishing a bite, he cleared his throat with his drink. “Was there a special reason for your arrival?”

  The king towered over him, looking down his nose at Logan.

  “Queen Elixia learned college students sent to these learning centers arrive with gifts from their family. We will not have it said that our dear girl was here without the ceremonial trappings due to her status.”

  Ladislas untied a small leather bag from his belt.

  “We went shopping.”

  From the pouch, he started pulling out items that were about the size of game pieces. When he blew across them, they grew to their standard size.

  First, a pair of thick leather boots fell to th
e floor with a thud.

  “Seven-League Boots. She shouldn’t have to walk such a long distance between these classes.”

  The next item was a fancy woman’s handbag. It had a prominent gold metal clasp, a logo of a couture label Logan recognized from his mom’s love of shopping. He couldn’t imagine Brigit using it.

  The king continued. “Queen Elixia modified this human status symbol. She lined it with a velvet bag, which will always contain inside 30 coins from this realm. She named it ‘mad money’ though it does not look insane to me.”

  Calculating the highest denomination coin of the Bewachterberg currency, Logan figured Brigit would be able to buy a fast-food sandwich at least once a day.

  Next came a trio of what looked like doll dresses until they blossomed to ball gowns. The king held them up one-by-one before carefully laying them aside.

  “A dress as bright as the sun, one as pale as the moon, and, my personal favorite, containing all the colors of the sky.” At Logan’s stupefied expression, the king explained as if addressing a child. “For evening wear. Official functions for nobility.”

  “To be worn with the seven-league boots?” But Ladislas did not respond to Logan’s comment. Instead, he kept filling the room with ridiculous items.

  He held up a white opalescent goblet. It glowed with a dim light.

  “After getting a full report of what happened last year to our dear girl, this is essential — a cup carved from Unicorn horn. Queen Elixia had our silversmith fasten this silver chain. With it, Brigit can attach it to her girdle and have it with her every day. Do not let her sup without it, bard.”

  Considering the events of last year, the cup might not be a bad idea. But Brigit didn’t wear a medieval belt. Maybe she could use the purse to carry it about?

  “A ring which will prick your finger when an enemy is near.” The heavy gold signet he placed on an end table.

  “A silver message hand mirror. Brigit is to talk with her mother each evening. This lack of communication with her daughter frets her.”

  Having met Brigit’s mother, Logan figured this meant there had been several hysterical, dramatic storms already about Brigit’s bid for independence. No wonder the dryad had run away from home! Ladislas and Elixia were helicopter parents.

  “A necklace last used by Ecesedi Báthory Erzsébet. Put it on the neck of your enemy, and issue the command. It decapitates them. I’ve had the crusted blood cleaned off; it looks as good as new.”

  King Ladislas held it up for Logan to see, spreading it wide between his hands so the silver chain of rubies, each as large as a pigeon’s egg, sparkled. In a conversational tone, the king added, “It wasn’t true the Baroness bathed in virgin’s blood. She just had a taste for torturing and killing girls.”

  Ladislas tossed the deadly necklace into Logan’s lap and gave a dark chuckle at how he startled. Logan delicately picked it up with his forefinger and thumb and put it next to the ring. Distracted for a moment, he was surprised to see the king now held a large bow in his hands.

  Ladislas was turning it over in his hands, stroking the smooth wood.

  “A longbow made of wych yew. Some see it as inferior to traditional yew, but wych yew makes a flatter, wider bow. Makes a better balance when you draw.”

  Continuing in an instructive voice, he nocked an arrow. It had an obsidian arrow-point and black fletchings.

  “These arrows are exceptional. A unique blend of three Elements: Wind, Wood, and Stone.”

  With an easy, smooth draw, Brigit’s father brought his hand to his pointed ear and aimed the arrow’s tip at Logan. “The enchantment makes each arrow always strike true.”

  “What about Guest Right?” Logan reminded him. Angry, he stood up, moving, so the tip was a hands-breath from his heart.

  “As humans say, better to ask for forgiveness. Your family can come to me for redress.”

  The knuckles of the king’s fingers tightened.

  Daddy's Girl

  “For our next vacation, you should buy me one of those cat backpacks. With the viewing window,” said the cat. “That way, I wouldn’t get wet when I want to see things.”

  Hiding her smile, Brigit looked down at the black cat trotting up the stairs beside her.

  “Don’t you think you’re spoiled enough?”

  She asked the question while unlocking the door to her apartment.

  “A cat be spoiled too much? Is this a serious question?” inquired the púca.

  But Brigit didn’t answer. She was staring at her father, who was aiming an arrow at her roommate in the living room. She didn’t shout, but immediately rushed forward and threw her backpack. It pushed aside her father’s deadly aim.

  “How dare you?” Brigit demanded, her voice low and trembling with rage.

  “Now, pumpkin…” began King Ladislas, speaking in a cajoling tone.

  “How dare you!?” She repeated, putting herself between Logan and her father. When Logan opened his mouth as if to say something, Brigit raised one finger at him, stopping him before he could begin.

  “Don’t. Don’t even try to explain this. There is no explanation except the obvious one. My father is once again trying to interfere with my relationships with my bondmates. He’s meddling. Again.”

  King Ladislas was still holding the bow, but he relaxed his hand, releasing the string’s tension, bringing the weapon to his side.

  “I was merely testing the mettle of your bondmate,” said her father in a placating tone. “You never know how humans will react when under stress. They are unpredictable and most without honor.”

  His words did not calm his daughter. Brigit’s fingers pulled at her kinky curls as if she would rip them from her head in frustration.

  “Will you stop this? Why do you think I left home? Why do you think I had so few bondmates there? No one wanted to have their ‘mettle tested’ as you so quaintly put it!”

  Changing tactics, her father spread out his hands, gesturing to the mound of presents that made the living room look like Christmas day.

  “I brought some things for you. From your mother. It’s traditional.”

  Brigit did not spare a glance at the gowns, ruby necklace, silver mirror, or gold ring.

  “You need to stop doing this,” she hissed. Even though she had a small, wiry build, her fury made her appear capable of taking on her father. “This smothering — it’s why the rest of my sisters left home. Do you want to drive us all away?”

  Jib, who didn’t like it when the royal family argued, started eating the discarded cake. Brigit spared the púca a glance, warning the True Beast, “Don’t eat that. It’ll make you sick.”

  “I eat to soothe my feelings,” explained the púca.

  “Ha! Stop watching daytime television. It’s given you strange ideas,” Brigit scoffed.

  “I find human maladies fascinating,” the cat said. “While I’m here, I’m going to schedule a therapy session with a psychiatrist and evaluate the strength of its seer abilities. They don’t use entrails nowadays. It’s all about what’s in your mind. All quite modern and up-to-date.”

  Jib’s comments might have derailed the fight, except the king made the mistake of saying, “That’s what I’m talking about. The human lands are full of unpredictable, strange characters who go against tradition. They are dangerously fickle.”

  Logan made a disbelieving coughing sound behind Brigit at the king’s words. She ignored her roommate and rounded on her father again.

  “Are you talking about Logan? You don’t know my bondmate. Oh, I forget,” Brigit ended her last three words in a shout, “you kidnapped him!”

  “How else would I find out what you were doing?” asked the king, his face showing hurt. “And make the unpleasant discovery that a human bard had sweet-talked you into a Debt of Gratitude? You calling this boy your bondmate only proves my argument.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Logan may be a bard, but he’s an honorable human. He poses no threat to me. I’m perfectly safe with him.
”

  His daughter’s words did not convince King Ladislas. He raised his eyebrows, clearly skeptical. “But do you need to live with it? Why not share your dwelling with that naiad bondmate of yours? She seemed polite and clean.”

  “Is he saying I’m dirty?” Brigit ignored Logan’s outraged statement and snapped at her father, “It’s because Celia is fae? Isn’t it? It’s your human prejudice showing again.”

  “Of course. She understands our Laws of Civility. Humans are chaotic, unprincipled. Without honor. Look at the many prisons they need because of those who break their laws.”

  “Those bog sprites last spring didn’t show honor,” Logan interjected.

  “We heard about the incident concerning the bog sprites.” King Ladislas narrowed his eyes, the vein in his forehead starting to throb again. Outside, clouds covered the sun, darkening the room as the temperature plummeted by ten degrees.

  “They will not bother you again,” he promised his daughter. “Which supports my argument. If they had known who you were, those creatures wouldn’t have dared such a prank against my daughter. At home, our name shields you.”

  Brigit retorted, “Back home in the Perilous Realm, the fae kill each other because someone accidentally stepped on their cloak. I’ve dealt with their outraged sensibilities from childhood. Give me some credit. Besides, you’ve assigned Jib as my guardian while I’m here in the human lands. The púca is capable as a guard.”

  Her father crossed his arms in that stubborn stance his daughter had inherited.

  “Declare your heritage here, and I will let you stay.”

  Pushed, Brigit shouted back, “I don’t want anyone here to know!”

  That silenced Ladislas, perhaps with surprise as he appeared confused at his daughter’s words.

  In a lower voice, Brigit continued, “Father, I don’t want people here to bond with me because of who you are. Or because Mother is a queen. I’m sick of being used because someone wants to get close to my family. Here, I’ve had the freedom to make bondmates based upon what I can do. Who I am.”