F³ Youngblood 01

           As detectives went, I was a youngblood, still a grade three. I only had a couple of cases under my belt with Martinez, a grade one, who had quizzed me over everything and sent me to do all the grunt work. I still had a lot to learn. Only now, I didn’t have Martinez, a computer to look anything up, or even a procedure manual to consult since I was stuck in the Fairy Tale Realms.

            Still, the people here didn’t exactly have the skills of master criminals to cover up their crimes. One of Queen Catherine’s maids had pried open the settings of the jewelry, liberating stones here and there. While she didn’t pick them all clean, only taking a stone here and there, it had added up enough that Roderick asked me to look into it.

It didn’t take long to find a stone in the maid’s quarters where the mortar had been chipped away enough to pull a small block free. The block had even been hollowed out on the inside to create a pocket for the stones. A few more, and the maid would have had enough to retire on.

But instead of patting myself on the back as King Roderick and Andurias, the captain of the guard, had done, I heard Martinez’s voice tsking as all of the other clues started to make themselves known, and all of the procedures that I had missed. Sure, the Realms didn’t have fingerprint dust, so I couldn’t—or could I?

F³ Returning Heroes

(I am once again doing NaNoWriMo, so instead of our regularly scheduled F³, I will be posting bits of what I’m writing just to keep me on track. Hopefully, I’ll actually finish off a couple of WIPs [that’s work in progress to those of you not in the writer trade].)

The castle town erupted in cheers as Geoffrey rode in and waved to his subjects. Sarah beamed with radiant smiles and waved, too, from her perch behind him. Geoff’s horse pranced; not to be outdone, Ranger did the same, milking in all the adoration as if it belonged to him. I nodded and gave a few waves whenever someone yelled out a “Shamus!” or “Sir Sam!” It was all for show; I was giving ground in my fight against fatigue. My body and mind felt the weight of the journey, and now that we had made it to relative safety, I needed rest, and soon.

            Shower. I would kill someone for a hot shower and Old Spice bodywash. And food. I need some good food. Pizza. I really could use an extra large pie with pepperoni and mushrooms. God, I think I can actually smell it. Melted cheese and wood-fired dough. My mouth is watering.

            And then I realized I wasn’t remembering. I really did smell pizza. In one of the shops lining the main boulevard to the castle I saw a man holding up a pizza on a wooden board. It was sliced sausage instead of pepperoni, but it definitely was a pizza. I tried to edge Ranger that direction, but the crowd kept us corralled.

            I waved at the man, but he wasn’t looking my direction, his eyes on the prince ahead of me.

            “Hey! pizza man!”

            He didn’t look.

            “Hey! You with the pizza!”

            A boy next to him caught my wave then looked up at the man, then tugged on his shirt and pointed my way.

            The man saw me, and waved. “Sir Sam! Bringer of pizza!”

            “How much?” I pointed at the pie.

            He laughed and pointed at the pie, too.

            “How much?” I yelled, almost turning around in the saddle.

            He pointed at the pie again and then waved, not hearing me.

            Fuck!

            My stomach growled in agreement.