The Modern Fae's Guide to Surviving Humanity (3 page)

“Kyle!” Dan grabbed Kyle's vest with his free hand. The rest of the greeters froze, the whole yellow and
green herd of them turning slowly to stare at the man who had dared to lay a hand on one of their own.

Starting to feel like he had made a very big mistake, Dan let go and stepped back.

“Sorry. I guess I just got carried away.”

Kyle's smile never wavered. “Anger management videos can be found in our Entertainment section. Or, if your doctor would like to prescribe anti-anxiety medications, you can have them sent directly to our Undermart pharmacy. They got me, Dan. Run while you still can. Maybe you'd like to have a delicious Milk-y-shake™ while you wait for your nerves to settle?”

Dan's eyes widened. “What did you just say?”

“Milk-y-shakes™ are available in six flavors: chocolate, vanilla, mango-banana, strawberry, our own signature Mint-i-licious, and for a limited time only, seasonal Chokka-berry-yum. Try one today!”

Dan took another step backward. Kyle kept on smiling, giving no sign that he understood what he was saying.

Clutching his price gun to his chest, Dan turned and fled.

“Nimh! Nimh?” Dan burst into the upstairs hall—the one most employees entered only under duress or when called to meet with management. He was still clutching his price gun, and was dimly aware that his break had ended five minutes ago. That didn't seem to matter now. Nothing mattered but finding Nimh and getting the hell out of the Undermart, before whatever had gotten to Kyle started getting to them. “Dammit, Nimh, where are you?!”

“Dan?”

He whirled to see his girlfriend standing framed in one of the private doorways, the door pulled almost entirely shut behind her. The air smelled like cotton candy and fresh raspberries, two scents he'd never really associated with corporate management before coming to work for the Undermart.

Before he'd started dating Nimh.

Not letting himself think about what he was doing, Dan lunged and grabbed her hand, yanking her out of the doorway. “Come on! We've got to get out of here. We've got to get out of here now.”

“What are you talking about?” Nimh pulled herself out of his grasp, eyes wide and alarmed. “You're acting crazy, Dan. You're still on your shift.”

“Undermart isn't safe.”

“What? Undermart is the safest place there is!”

“Kyle's a greeter. Kyle didn't even seem to know who I was, and he would never, never voluntarily take a job as a greeter. He was telling me just yesterday that management ‘promotes' people who don't agree with them, and now—”

“Dan, I'm management,” said Nimh quietly.

“—he's been promoted, and he doesn't recognize me! We have to go!”

“It's my fault they promoted him.”

“If we don't leave now, I don't know if we can—what?” Dan stopped, blinking at Nimh. “What are you talking about?”

“You're right, Dan. You should go.” Nimh drew herself up a little straighter, smiling despite the tears he could see starting to gather in the corners of her eyes. “Go now. I'll cover for you with the senior managers, but only if you go now.”

“Nimh… .” Dan started to step forward, reaching for her.

“You're fired,” she whispered. “Now get out before I call store security on you.”

Dan stood there, stunned, as Nimh turned away and stepped back through the private door, closing it behind herself with a decisive click.

He took the price gun with him when he left the Undermart. Technically, it was theft. He honestly didn't care.

The doors of the downtown Undermart officially opened at 7
AM
, catering to those early risers and busy professionals who needed to get a leg up on the day. In order to make the opening seamless, delivery trucks and stockroom staff began arriving at 5:30. Dan showed up at 5:45, wearing the employee vest he was no longer strictly entitled to and clutching his purloined price gun like a sword.

“Morning, Dan,” said Molly, as he walked past her without clocking in.

“Morning, Molly,” he replied, and kept going, heading through the employee level to the management stairs.

He'd thought long and hard after Nimh threw him out the night before, finally concluding that, having been fired, he could go looking for answers without fear of any further repercussions. Maybe a trespassing charge, but that was about it. He kept that thought firmly in mind as he slunk silently into the upstairs hall, heading for the doorway Nimh had retreated through after firing him. Whatever was behind that door, maybe it could give him some idea of what had been done to Kyle.

Dan tested the knob as he dug in his pocket for the nail file he intended to use as an impromptu lock pick.
The door had always been locked before, and the test was more out of habit than anything else. That didn't stop the door from swinging promptly open, revealing the darkened room beyond. Dan stopped where he was, blinking.

“Huh,” he said, softly. “OK, then.” Pulling his hand from his pocket, he clutched the price gun a little tighter, and stepped over the threshold, into the dark.

The darkness lasted for three steps. Step one, normal dark, with the dim light of the hallway creeping in from behind him. Step two, absolute dark, like there was no light left in the world. Step three, a somehow even deeper dark, one that went on forever and ever, without end. Step four …

Step four and he was back in the light. Not the dim light of the early morning Undermart, but the bright daytime light of a glossy green meadow, dotted with garishly colored flowers that smelled like cinnamon and cotton candy. Dan froze, fingers clenching convulsively on the handle of his price gun. A $12.99 price tag popped out of the business end, looking like nothing so much as a ticket back to the real world. He grabbed the tag, affixing it to his vest, and waited.

Nothing changed.

“Dan?”

Nimh sounded querulous, even terrified. Dan whirled to face her, raising his price gun so that it was held solidly between them, and stared. Her normally black hair was a rich shade of plum purple, like she was trying to look like one of the less popular dolls from the Strawberry Shortcake™ toy collection. She had it pulled back, showing the distinctly pointed tips of her ears. Her eyes were a shade of violet only a little lighter than her hair.

Really, if she hadn't been wearing her Undermart uniform, she would have been entirely unbelievable. But no matter how good his imagination was, he could never have imagined anything that clashed as badly as plum hair and an official Undermart uniform vest.

“What the—where are—what are you?!” The questions came out so fast they tangled around one another, becoming a single long, half-coherent demand.

Nimh shook her head, newly violet eyes wide. “No, no, I can't tell you, and you can't be here. Dan, why didn't you run? You were supposed to run.” She started to reach for him, despair washing over her features as he stepped back, out of her reach. “I have to get you out of here before it's too late. I love you. Don't you see? I tried to get you away from the store because I love you.”

“Too late?” asked Dan. “Too late for what?”

Nimh didn't answer. She just looked past him, the expression slowly draining from her face. It almost wasn't a surprise when the hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind, a hand easily twice the size of his, with fingers that tightened until they hurt.

“Nimue?” rumbled a voice, in something that sounded less like simple speech than it did the movement of rocks deep beneath a mountain. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Hello, Daddy,” sighed Nimh. “I'd like you to meet my boyfriend.”

Dan didn't remember leaving the green meadow with the impossible flowers. He didn't remember Nimh changing her hair from purple back to its more customary black. And he certainly didn't remember the face of the man behind that massive hand. But most of all, he didn't
remember being tied to a chair. He tugged experimentally on the rope that held him down ($14.99, home and garden). The knots held.

Nimh stood in front of him, wringing her hands anxiously. Her eyes were still violet. He seized on that hope. If her eyes were still violet, maybe he wasn't really tied to a chair. Maybe this was just a really, really weird dream.

“Your mortal man awakens,” rumbled a deep voice from behind him.

The hope died. No matter how weird his dreams got, they never made him want to piss himself.

“Yes, Daddy,” said Nimh. That odd accent of hers was stronger now. Dan couldn't believe he'd ever believed her when she said she was Canadian. Leaning closer, she dropped her voice, and whispered, “Dan, please. I need you to be respectful. Please.”

“Or what? You'll kill me?”

“No.” Sorrow filled her eyes. “We'll promote you.”

Dan was still trying to come up with a reply when the man stepped out from behind him and moved to stand next to Nimh. Then he simply blinked. “Mr. Ronald, the district manager, is your father?”

“You may address me as His Highness Oberon, King of Tirn an Og, ruler of the Lands of the Forever Young,” said the man in an imperious tone. He looked somehow wrong in his three-piece suit, too large and roughly-made, like he would have been more at home on a battlefield, bashing his fellow men—or fellow fairies—with large wooden clubs. “You have trespassed upon my domain. For that, the punishments are known.”

“Um, not by me, they're not,” said Dan. “I didn't even know you had a domain here.” He paused, his brain
catching up with his mouth. “Wait—did you say ‘Oberon'? As in the—”

“Did not my daughter expel you from our hallowed halls? You were given leave to go. You returned.”

“Your daughter.” Dan's attention swung to the increasingly miserable-looking Nimh. “He called you ‘Nimue.' ”

“I told you it was an old family name,” she said.

“You didn't tell me it was because you were the Lady of the Lake.”

“You never asked!”

Oberon scowled at the pair of them. “If you would be so kind as to shut up so I can commence the punishment, I would very much appreciate it.”

“But Daddy, I love him!” Nimh wailed.

“I fail to see where that's my problem.”

“I think this punishment thing is about to be my problem, so I'm OK with delaying it,” said Dan. “Excuse me for being a little slow here, but what's going on? And where's my price gun?”

“Insolent mortal! That price gun is store property!”

“Oh my God, I've discovered Fairyland, and it's full of crazy people,” said Dan. “Seriously? This is really happening? You're really real? You're really … what the hell is the King of Fairies doing running Undermart?”

“Plastic,” said Oberon gravely.

Dan blinked. “Plastic?”

“Plastic,” repeated Oberon.

“Plastic,” said Dan.

Nimh inched toward him, bending to murmur, “I'd stop saying that if I were you. He can keep repeating it all day.”

“If it delays the punishment part, so can I.” Dan focused on Oberon. “Why plastic?”

“Plastic enhances our enchantments, comes in a variety of pleasant colors, and is dishwasher safe,” Oberon replied.

“Plus, when people are using plastic, they're not using as much iron,” said Nimh. “We don't like iron much.”

“I remember that from my fairy tales.” Dan turned to look at Nimh. “You really love me?”

“With all my heart.” Nimh sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I'm so sorry I let this happen to you.”

“This is all very sweet, but it's interfering with his punishment.” Oberon started to raise his hands. “At least you find his smile fetching, Nimue. You'll be able to see it each day at the front of the store.”

“Wait!” said Dan hurriedly. “Sir, if I may be so bold … you're going about this all wrong. Undermart—you opened the store to spread plastic, right?”

“To spread plastic, reduce iron, and get a bulk discount on candy, yes,” said Oberon, frowning. “It's remarkable how many M&Ms the Tuatha de Danann can consume in a weekend.”

“Um … right. I'm just not going to think about that right now, and instead, I'm going to focus on you not melting my brain. Sir—my lord—Undermart does an excellent job of servicing local customers, but you could be reaching a much wider market share if you had an Internet presence.”

Oberon's frown deepened. “The Internet thwarts my attempts at domination. Already have the Aol denied my access twice.”

Dan did some hasty mental gymnastics before hazarding, “AOL?”

Oberon scowled.

“Right. Right! Well, see, if you don't fry my brain, I can help you with that. I understand AOL. Also DSL, TCP/IP, and lots of other acronyms.” Dan managed a sickly smile. “A whole new customer base is waiting for you. And a bigger audience for your, ah, magic plastic.”

There was a long pause. Finally, slowly, Oberon said, “I'm listening.”

“Dan?” Nimh stepped into the employee break room, ignoring the way conversation died upon her entrance. The staff had become much more talkative since their enchantments were removed (although most of the greeters opted to be re-enchanted at the beginning of every shift, as it reduced the urge to start attacking customers). That didn't mean they'd started liking management. Some things were beyond even magic's reach. Still, it was a fair exchange.

Dan wasn't in the break room. Nor was he in the stockroom, where the poker game was entering a record fifth week (with management's blessing), or out on the floor. She finally located him out back, sitting on the gently rotting old picnic table with a laptop open on his knees.

“Dan?” she asked, stepping out of the building and starting toward him.

Dan raised his head, smiling at the way the sunlight struck glints of purple off her hair. She never bothered with the little glamours anymore when they were alone. She hadn't since their wedding night (one which, sadly,
his own parents had to miss; there were no direct flights from Wisconsin to the Isles of the Blessed). “Hey, you,” he said.