Return of the High Fae (Vegas Fae Story Book 1) (3 page)

To say I was comfortable with any of this would be an
understatement of epic proportions. Yet here I was, surrounded by crazies
telling me that I just stepped into the pages of a fantasy novel. But what
could I do? It was take the trinkets and leave by the back door, or possibly
never leave.

"Okay," I said. "It is what it is. I suppose
I have to trust someone. So what happens next?"

"I believe we should let you get some rest. It has been
a trying evening."

The lady who had been in the office when I first woke up
took that moment to return. She handed a package to Siegfried, and then she
turned to Milagre. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"No, you may return to your regular duties."

I heard her say "thank you," then she left the
office.

Milagre walked over to the table in front of the couch. He
took my empty glass, refilled it and handed it to me. "After tonight, you
may want to consider coming to work for me. I could use someone with your
skills. I am also concerned that our adversaries won't be happy with you
dispatching two of their agents. They may want revenge. I can offer some
protection if you are here."

Yeah right. That's all I need to finish this day off. A job
in the mental health field. But I did want to make it out of here in one piece,
so I stayed nice. "I'll consider it, Mr. Milagre. But I have to tell you;
I like working for myself. A lot has happened tonight and I'd like to move
slowly. Maybe we can do some contract work until I've figured this all out.
Would that be ok?"

"As you wish. But we will discuss it further. I will
help you if I can. Siegfried, will you escort Mr. Hoskins to his vehicle? I
believe there's been enough excitement and discussion for tonight. Wait a
moment, tell me about Carmine."

"That's why I was here. I was going to serve Mr.
Pontedra a subpoena. It's in reference to a civil case he's involved in."

"He would have left by now. He's on his way to our
Atlantic City property. He should be back in a few days. I'll arrange for him
to contact you when he returns. Will that be acceptable?"

"That would be fine." God, I hope he's not part of
this madness.

I reached in my pocket and removed a card from my wallet. I
laid it on the table and looked back up at him. "My contact info is on
there, including my cell number. Just have him call me."

"I'll make sure he gets in touch with you," he
said, returning to his desk. "Siegfried, take care of our new
friend."

"Of course. Mr. Hoskins, will you follow me
please?"

I downed the rest of my freshly poured drink and got up to
follow him out of the office. As we entered the elevator down the hallway,
Siegfried handed me the package he had received.

"Your weapon, as promised, Mr. Hoskins.

"Thank you, Siegfried."

"If I may be frank, I do wish you would consider Mr.
Milagre's offer of employment. Our opponents are dangerous and there is
strength in numbers."

The elevator door opened and we walked toward my car. There
was nothing to indicate that anything out of the ordinary had happened. No
bodies, no yellow tape, nothing. As for me, I just wanted to get the hell out
of there, but I stayed cool.

"Perhaps I will, but for now, I still have to digest
all this." We paused as we reached my car, a newer Lexus hybrid. I wasn't
rich, but I did ok.

"Mr. Hoskins, thank you for saving Mr. Milagre,"
he said as I opened the driver door. He reached over to shake my hand. We shook
and I got into the car.

"Look, don't worry about it, I'm just glad we're both
ok."

"Still, you did save him, and for that I am in debt to
you," he replied, pushing the door closed.

I rolled the window down, deciding I didn't want him to
think I was being rude. Crazy or not, these folks had a lot of juice in this
town. "Look, maybe we can meet again under better circumstances," I
said as I started the car.

Siegfried didn’t say anything else, but I thought I saw the
beginning of a smile. Niceties done, I didn't lose another minute getting out
of there. As I left the property I kept an eye on my rear view mirror just to
make sure I wasn't being followed.

What the hell just happened? All right, I'll admit it; I
once spent a year working cases involving black magic and witchcraft. Hell, I
still had a few contacts out there in that community. But that was nothing like
this. This was insane. I needed a drink and a place to lay low for a while, so
I could think. With nowhere else to go I headed toward the freeway and home.

It may be the desert, but Vegas really is a beautiful
place. Especially early in the morning, or late at night, depending on your
perspective. The city lights engulf you and it can be crystal clear. On some
nights you can see the entire valley.

I turned on to Craig off the 95, then went west, turning
right onto one of the side streets toward Lone Mountain. You may not know it,
but this is as close to a rural area as the city proper has.

They call it the Lone Mountain corridor. Before the city
had grown to the two million plus it has become, this had been horse property.
Some of it still is. The rest is studded with pockets of the rich, famous, and
business owners who want the good life. Unlike most places in the city, where
your neighbor's house is so close you can spit on their wall, here there was
nothing less than 1/3 an acre. Many homes had a half, if not a full acre, some
even more.

I had an acre in a section that had once housed a dude
ranch and stables. The original property had been parceled up and sold off bit
by bit, but I had been able to buy the ranch house. It was an old fashioned two
story with a covered front porch. It even had a hitching rail in the front,
just in case anyone ever came over by horse. This is Vegas, after all, and
where I lived, you just never knew.

Before my wife and I divorced, we'd purchased it from the
old couple that had owned the ranch. I had modernized and upgraded the house,
but left the trees that were fed by an underground spring alone. It was nice to
have a well, with water being so precious in the desert. The property was
fenced and gated, which wasn't at all unusual in this city, and I liked my
privacy. But the best thing about it? The property was surrounded by trees.
Once inside the gates, you would never know you were in the desert.

I pulled up to the front, pushed the transmitter, waited
for the gate to open, and drove in. As I got out of the car, Charlie came
running up and almost knocked me over. Charlie is a two year old Great Dane
mix. Black and white, he weighs in at somewhere around 180 pounds. Of course,
he thinks he's a lap dog. We had the obligatory few minutes of petting,
hugging, and licking. Well, the licking was mostly on Charlie's part. He
finally calmed down and walked with me to the front porch.

I unlocked the door and went into the house, emptying my
pockets, putting my keys and cell phone down on the counter. Opening the
refrigerator, I grabbed a beer and went into the back yard to sit on the patio.
It had been a long, strange night. I still didn't know what to think. So I sat
in my rocking chair on the patio and stared at the stars

Charlie walked over and dropped a ball in my lap. I could
have sworn he said "play" as he stared at me, his tail wagging back
and forth.

Start with an Oreo colored Astro from the
Jetsons
and that's Charlie. Throw in a dog who thinks the pool was built for him and
loves to play ball. Now you're getting close. I would have been smart to own
stock in a tennis ball factory, as many as he went through in a week. He
doesn't care where you've been, or what your day was like; when you walk into
the backyard it's play time and that means throw the ball. So when he dropped
the ball in my lap, I did what every good pet owner knows to do. I threw the
ball across the yard and watched him take off after it.

While I tossed the ball, I was trying to make sense of the
supernatural thing. Not to mention having shot and killed two alleged Witches,
Warlocks, Mages, or whatever they were supposed to have been. The whole thing
made no sense. Was I being played? But that didn't figure right either. Milagre
and his folks had no reason to act that way with me. They could have taken me
out, like I had the two thugs, and no one would have been the wiser. Could they
really believe all this magic nonsense?

My grandmother had told me stories about Faeries and the
Dryad who lived in the tree in her yard. I remembered those stories well. But
Milagre and Meredith would have me believe it was all true. I was missing
something here. I'll be damned if I knew what it was. Maybe it was their way to
cover up the attack on him and my actions against the attackers.

I should have called the police the second I left there.
Hell, I was an ex-cop and now I was part of a conspiracy. Yeah, I should have
called the cops. But here's the honest truth: I may be dumb at times, but I'm
not stupid. Calling the police wouldn't do me any good. Eddy Milagre had way
too many connections for a guy like me to get in his way. Besides, there was no
trace of those bodies when I left the place. I didn't like it, but I was just
going to have to wait and see what was next. I took another drink and sat back
to think.

I opened my eyes to the bright sun beating down on my
face, and a very large dog licking it. I pushed Charlie away and took a moment
to figure out where I was. Still in the backyard, I sat up on the lounger and
checked my watch: 9:30. Well, at least it was still morning. I spied the half
empty tequila bottle and several 'dead soldiers' of my favorite beer on the
table. Expecting a hangover, I stood up slowly. You can imagine my surprise
when my head was clear. Well, clear was a relative term. I needed coffee, now.

I went into the house and pressed the button on the coffee
pot. I lived on the stuff, so I was always careful to clean the pot and have it
ready for the next time. Nothing is more irritating to a coffee drinker than
having to empty the dregs of a forgotten pot and add those tortured minutes to
the time one has to wait till that magical elixir begins to fill the house with
its aroma. Be prepared, as the scouts say. Although I actually prefer the Coast
Guard motto better - Semper Paratus, always ready.

As the coffee began to drip, I looked over my collection
of mugs and chose one that said
Frak Me
. Considering the events of last
night, that one seemed to sum up my current state of being. With nothing to do
now but wait, I peeked out my front window to make sure the cops weren't
already looking for me. With the coast clear and the coffee brewing, I headed
upstairs for a quick shower.

As I let the hot water wash over me, I was starting to
feel normal again. Normal being a relative term. I don't know if anyone could
feel that way after last night's events. Where the hell had all that magic shit
come from? I had even dreamt about it last night.

I don't remember much of it, which was how I could
recognize the difference between the dream and reality. I remembered everything
that had happened at the Neptune, but the dream was already fading. My
grandmother and I were walking in the woods. She was telling me something about
magic. Damn, that pissed me off. Bad enough I had to go through last night's
debacle but now it had to invade my memories of the woman who had raised me.

I suppose I should mention that my parents died when I was
seven. My father had been a pilot and my mother, who'd worked in the casinos,
often flew with him on the weekends. One Sunday they just didn't come home.
They'd sent me to my grandmother in Germany, but she decided to bring me back
to the States. She moved me back to Vegas and stayed to raise me, telling me
that this was where my mother had wanted me to be.

I stepped out of the shower and dried off. Finishing my
morning rituals, I put on a pair of jeans and headed downstairs for my long
awaited cup of java. Feeling almost human again, I filled my cup and sat down
at the table. Ah, the aroma of fresh brewed coffee filled my nostrils as I took
a sip. Wonderful, I thought to myself, and then I damn near dropped my cup.
There on the counter next to my keys was the memory stick. I had forgotten
about the thumb drive Siegfried had given me!

Grabbing the drive, I went into my office and booted up my
basic laptop. It's basic because I can put anything on it and I don't care what
happens to it. If it's got a virus or something nasty, I can just wipe it and
reinstall it. Having some familiarity with computer systems and forensics, I
never attached anything unknown to my primary desktop. Once it had booted up, I
inserted the thumb drive, burned a copy of it to a CD, then opened the files on
the laptop.

Damn if it didn't look like everything was there. Images
of the two guys I had killed still lying on the parking garage floor,
surveillance video of 3 figures moving through the grounds and some docs of
logs indicating when things happened. I slowly went through the files and
stopped at the images of the rods the bad guys had been carrying. Looking over
the pics, I saw what looked like miniature versions of something out of a bad
imitation of
Lord of the Rings
or
Harry Potter
.

What the...? Was this some kind of a joke? These things
were only about one inch in diameter and maybe 14 or 16 inches long. Just fancy
sticks, they sure didn't look like something that fired a bolt of electricity.
The tips had some sort of red crystal attached to them. One had been broken and
thick red goo had oozed from it. I threw up my arms in amazement. These folks
were taking this magic thing to the limit! What were these things supposed to
be, magic wands?

I'd had enough; I started to pull the thumb drive out of
the slot when the damn thing bit me. Then a light flashed. It started as a
bright spot in the center of the screen, then burst out in all directions at
once and was gone. What the hell?

I reached over, gave the now removed thumb drive a quick
touch and pulled back — nothing. I picked it up carefully, but it was cold. My
laptop was cold as well, the screen blank, even with the power still on. I
quickly pulled the battery out of the back to preserve it. Lesson one in saving
damaged data: kill the power.

Although I had never seen a computer act like this before,
I had spent some time in the forensic lab when I was a cop. I was hoping that
whatever had happened to the thumb drive and laptop could be reconstructed, and
I wanted to prevent any more damage until it could be examined. I grabbed the
laptop, thumb drive and the CD, I had made and put them all in my briefcase.
Then I went back into the kitchen to make a call.

Malcolm Smitt had first worked for me when I was a rookie
sergeant on the force. Then we worked together again when I did a stint in the
computer forensics lab. He had gone on to become the Department's leading
expert in computer forensics and hacking until he retired last year to start
his own business. We'd actually talked about working together at one point, but
I was tired of computers and he didn't want to do regular P.I. work; so we
settled on just being friends and referred business to one another. If I
believed anyone who I knew possessed real magic before this, it would have to
be Mal. He had a way with computers that was uncanny.

I poured myself another cup of coffee, (the first one was
cold) then grabbed my cell and dialed Mal's number.

"Bobby! Where the hell you been hiding? Got any new
movies out?"

He knew I hated that name. Not that I had anything against
Bob Hoskins, the actor. But ever since the Roger Rabbit movie, he'd called me
Bob or Bobby whenever he had the chance. It was all in fun of course.

"Malware, written any crappy programs lately?" I
countered, using my nickname for him.

"As a matter of fact..." Then he just laughed.

"What's up, Rob, I thought you forgot about me."

"Never, my friend, never, just been busy. Hey, you
gonna be at the office for a while? I just had the weirdest thing happen to my
laptop while I was viewing some data. I pulled the battery and have a copy of
the file I was running when it died."

"System crash?"

"Honestly, Mal, I'm not sure. I've never seen
anything like it."

"Bring it on then. I'll be here all day."

"Great, see you in an hour or so."

I disconnected the phone and headed upstairs to finish
dressing. I threw on a collarless button down shirt and a pair of shoes and
went back downstairs. I filled a travel mug before I dumped the coffee and got
the pot ready for next time.

Standing in my kitchen I thought about what I should do.
If no one outside the Neptune knew about last night, then I was just gonna have
to see what played out. But just to be absolutely sure, I grabbed my cell and
dialed another old police friend. This would confirm it, one way or the other.

Lieutenant Ray O'Malley was the man in charge of Metro's
Homicide Bureau. He looked the part, too. A good looking Irishman with a full
head of silver hair, tall and well built. He was also a whiskey drinking, cigar
smoking, old school cop. The kind you might expect to see on the screen in a
classic film noir title.

With thirty-four years on the job, he didn't worry about
the brass, officials or the city's elite. If it involved a murder you were
either the victim, a suspect or a witness. If you didn't fit into one of those
categories, then you'd best just get out of his way. I'd first met him when I
was still a cook working my way through college. I probably never would have
been a cop if it wasn't for him. Later he'd been my training officer, then my
sergeant when I first made detective. If anything about what happened at the
Neptune had hit the light of day, he'd know about it.

"O'Malley, Homicide," he said as the phone
connected.

"Ray, it's Hoskins, got time for a cup?"

"Friggin' lovely! Here I was gonna take the morning
off to play a few holes and all you got to offer me is coffee?"

"Yeah right," I said with a laugh. "No
seriously, you got some time?"

"Ah, I wish, but some rich bastard got himself fried.
I'm heading out to the scene as we speak. Hell if I know why CSI wants me out
there. Hold on..." There was a short pause, and I could hear him pounding
the keys on the car's MDT, the Mobile Data Terminal. That was the official name
for the laptop computer in his undercover car.