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 Conditions

           “What’s your fucking problem?” Kate asked. “I’m offering you money to do your job. And it’s basically free if we don’t have a case for you.”

            “Easy. I can’t stand storm riders. Jack Dailey in particular.”

            “You won’t deal with him. He’s in Europe.”

            We crossed into Meriville, where the buildings started to become more worn, less of the sparkle found in Fairhaven, where the street lamps were farther apart and the foliage around them more wild.

            “The way you people can zip around on lightning, that doesn’t mean much.”

            “Jack is . . . well, he’s one of the biggest assholes on the planet, and I say that as a storm rider who is an asshole. But, come on, we’re dealing with important shit, too. Without your help, Jack and Reilly would have been sidelined. Worse, they could have ended up spreading that curse to the rest of us, and then we’d have a fucking apocalypse.”

            I had never seen any of the stuff that the storm riders had dealt with, but I recognized descriptions of some of the baddies, easily enough. And there was no doubt that they dealt with supernatural stuff.

            I peered into the darkness through Meriville. The shadows here were a little longer, not as bad as the Grind with its haphazard layout and tangled streets that sprang up instead of being planned.

            “If I accept the retainer, there are some conditions. One, no Jack Dailey. I don’t talk to him, I don’t interact with him. He can go take a walk around the block whenever the rest of you show up.”

            “Fine by me.”

            “Two, you don’t give out my number.”

            “You’re in the book, you know. You’ve got a damned webpage.”

            “I don’t think most storm riders would even thinking to search out someone like me, so that’s not a big concern.”

            Kate opened her mouth, then nodded. “Yeah, we tend to not do the nerd thing by reading stuff. What else?”

            “I deal with you. Even if it’s not really your thing, you are with every single storm rider.”

            “So you’re saying you want me around. Mr. Allen,” she affected a southern accent. “I do declare you’ll turn my head.”

            “Four, the cost of the retainer just went up.”
            “Deal.” She stuck out her hand.

            I shook her hand. It still felt greasy from the butter.

            Why do I feel like I just made a Faustian bargain?

F³ An Offer

           I finished  my lobster rolls, and ducked out to get the pictures I needed while Kate finished scarfing the rest of it. The fresh, outside air made me realize just how stifling the smell of lobster and melted butter had become in the car. I’d need to empty a bottle of Febreze to get the smell out.

            “Okay, new rule, no more bucket of lobster rolls in my car.”

            Kate belched, “Okay.”

            “Right. Well, I’m done here. You want me to drop you at your hotel?”

            “Hey, I bought dinner, properly wined and dined you, and you’re not going to put out?”

            I gave her a flat look as I pulled out of the neighborhood.

            “Fine. Geez, don’t know what your aversion is to casual sex. You could really stand to get laid more often.”

            I shrugged. “Is there anything else?”

            The storm riders all seemed to embrace very casual relationships, and that was fine. What did I care? But it wasn’t what I was looking for out of life. Besides, since Cassie had come, I didn’t exactly want to have a revolving door of women coming and going.

            “Yeah, I want to put you on retainer?”

            “I’m not a gigolo.”

            “Har har. I’m serious. You know your way around solving this supernatural shit, and we seem to be encountering more and more weird stuff that we don’t have answers for.”

            I looked at her, and she didn’t have her telltale smirk.

            “I’ve never been on retainer, before. I usually take cases as they come. So you want me to just be on-call for the storm riders, whatever their latest screw up is, I solve the problem.”

            “Something like that.”

            “Oh, okay. That makes things easier. Hell, no.”