Puck: 1-9 - S. G. Ricketts (cat reading book TXT) 📗

my cup on a coaster." I flushed, embarrassed that I had been caught worrying. Still, it was an antique walnut coffee table... Ariel straightened and I focused again on him. In the soft glow of the lamps, he looked almost normal. Rather than inhumanly white, his skin looked lightly tanned. Even his eyes seemed muted. Part of me wondered if he'd dumbed down his human look for Joe. He ran slender fingers through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. "Dinnshenchas are an Old Line. We've been here for more than three thousand years. Robin, of course, has been around much longer, the fiend, and we were created in part to thwart his attempts. A man prayed for protection over his wife."

"And cows," I interjected.

Joe groaned. Ariel smiled thinly. "And cows. But the cows were lesser problems. That was usually the work of imps or goblins of a lesser sort. The women, however, were Robin's prey." He dropped his hands into his lap. "We were tasked with keeping him at bay."

I bit my lip, hating how dejected my man-cat looked. "So... Did you actually fight him?"

Ariel shrugged. "I'm not sure you could call it a fight. I was hardly a Guardian then. Lucile was my first woman." Yellow eyes met mine. The despair neatly swallowed me. "I... I was with her from when she was a child. I grew to love her. Puck was sent to break her heart before I did something foolish."

"Fae-human liaisons are not uncommon," Joe offered. I glanced at him, but he seemed genuinely concerned. "Why should it matter?"

The faerie plucked at the cushion. I winced, resisting the urge to stop him. Joe shot me a warning look, so instead I grabbed my cup and filled my mouth with coffee. "That is a very good point. But, you see... Ah... This is rather hard to explain..."

"Oh for Christ sake, Ariel. Spit it out!" I demanded.

He flinched and I immediately regretted it. Still, he answered. This servant business was getting old. "The, ah, the Fae nobility are forbidden from affair with humans. It pollutes the bloodline and dulls our powers." He shrugged.

"So..." Joe prompted. "You're, what, a prince of some kind?"

Ariel shook his head, a slight smile breaking out. "No, thank god. I'm merely a courtier. I'm a baron of sorts. Lesser nobility but from a very old branch." He sighed heavily. "No romancing for me, though. And since Lucile stood in the way of keeping me... Pure, Robin came to dispatch her."

Joe and I exchanged a look. Slowly, I put my mug down. "'Dispatch her?'"

Ariel grimaced, his teeth bright in the light. "He brought word that her fiancé had died. Battle of... Vicksburg I think."

"Civil War," Joe breathed.

"She killed herself weeks later, too upset to live without him. I never even saw him come, Robin." He fairly snarled the word. "He snuck past me and destroyed her life, all to stop me." He looked at me again. "She died because of me, my lady. A woman I was sworn to protect died. Do you see now why I hate him? Why you must stay away from him?"

I nodded, still reeling. "But we're not in any danger of that here. I don't plan on falling in love any time soon, and you don't sound like you're in love with me."

He snorted. "I would be a fool to tempt fate twice. I appease myself by being in your presence, nothing more."

I glowered at him, finally regaining my balance. "By watching me bathe?"

I was rewarded with a ghost of a smile. Joe pouted. "But... You mean he's straight?"

I grinned. "V-neck shirt's confusing you, is it?" He glared at me.

Ariel chuckled, the last lingering look of despair fading away. "Liking men certainly would solve my problem, but yes. I only like the feminine side of your race. A few Dinnshenchas differ in that, but I can't help you there."

"Ohh, Joe can be feminine. Ouch!" I rubbed the spot where Joe's shoe had hit me. "What?" I grinned.

"You swore to keep that a secret," he hissed.

I shrugged, enjoying the sudden levity. "And you swore not to bug me with your weird voodoo crap."

"But-" He pointed at Ariel. Ariel stared from the pointed finger to me.

I shrugged again and finished off my latte. "You still broke your promise."

He threw up his hands. "Gah!"

I slipped a picture out of my wallet and tossed it over to the faerie. "Wanna see a redneck in a dress?"

Straight Black

Joe snatched the picture out of the air, glowering at me. "Can we focus please?" he snapped.

I hid my smirk in my cup as he shoved the picture into his pocket. "Right, ok." I did my best to become serious. "What do you have?"

Joe glared down his nose at me, not fooled for a moment by my face. "Rebbekah, this isn't a joke. Every single one of these was caused by Puck." He splayed the folders across the coffee table. "Go ahead. Pick one."

I glanced from him to Ariel and back. Neither man nor faerie looked away. A shiver slid down my back and I swallowed. "This is ridiculous," I muttered, grabbing the top one. "There is no way something supernatural could be part of all of this." Ariel shifted on the couch, his eyes intent on the file. Disconcerted, I pulled it into my lap. "And how did your dad get ahold of all these files anyway? I seriously doubt the police just handed them over."

Joe settled back in the chair, a light frown between his eyes. "No, they didn't. But seein' as my dad was a detective himself, nobody took no mind."

I blinked, surprised. Joe's twang only came out when he was stressed. Suddenly, the file in my hands seemed a lot more dangerous. I licked dry lips. "So how did he get onto this? It doesn't seem like the usual hunch that a faerie was accomplice to murder." I ran my finger down the tab. Eliza Marks. It called to me, begged me to open in. I could hear a low thrum from the couch. Ariel was struggling to maintain his glamour. "Joe? How did he figure it out?"

His frown deepened. "He found the cologne when he found my mother." He shrugged and sank farther into the chair. "He wanted to know why it was there."

"Oh..."

Silence hung between us. Finally, he waved at me, a spark of life coming back into his eyes. "Open it, Beks. See what you met."

I did. And then I closed it. "Dear God..."

"You need to see it, Rebekkah," Ariel said. He stood and moved across the room to sit next to me. "You'll never understand just how terrible he is until you see what he did." I shook my head, staring blankly at the Manila folder in my lap. It seemed so benign. I shook my head again and shoved it into his hands. Ariel sighed and placed it back in my hands. "You need to see it, Rebekkah. It's the only way."

I cringed as he flipped it open. Eliza stared up at me, her brown eyes glassy and empty. Thick welts wrapped around her neck, rubbed raw from a rope. One of her cheekbones was a faded yellow-brown bruise, the discoloration like a dying flower. I swallowed thickly, desperate to look away. Death terrified me. Why had I ever made a joke of this?

Slender white fingers flipped the picture over, revealing the next. Here, she was still hanging. I grabbed Ariel's free hand, shocked. Her neck was at a horrible angle, her face black from strangulation. A stool lay on it's side beneath her bare feet. "God, please can I stop?"

Ariel flipped the picture again. "No."

I stared at him, confused. Disoriented. The heavy oak rafters above us suddenly seemed sinister in light of Eliza Marks's death. "What?"

Joe stood, a few more folders in his hands. "First, find the bottle. It's at every crime scene. Just a few more." He dropped them on the bench between Ariel and I. "You never take anything seriously, Beks, and I hate doing this to you. But you've got to stay away from that monster, and this is the only way you'll actually do that."

I shoved the folders away and stood, staring up at him. Eliza's eyes seemed to hover just behind his own, brown echoing vibrant green. Death echoing life. I shuddered convulsively and half-ran to stand behind the couch. Both men watched me, faces dark. "I'll look at the pictures of Puck's stuff, but I won't look at any more of those." I couldn't take my eyes off the folders. Their owners called to me, begged to share their horror.

Joe sighed. "Beks, come sit down."

"No." I dug my fingers into the suede of the couch, half expecting him to force me.

Instead, Joe began methodically flipping through the folders, occasionally pulling out a picture. "Fine..." To my relief, none of them contained any more bodies. "Eliza Marks was beaten by her husband, who thought she was cheating. A week later, she found him in bed with another woman. She hung herself the next night. The cologne was found among her perfumes. Phillip McDonald brutally murdered his girlfriend and killed himself after discovering she had robbed him blind. The cologne was on the nightstand. Desiree Francis drowned her three-year old daughter and 13- month old to 'protect' them from their father, who'd just served her divorce papers and threatened to take them away. The cologne was on the shelf above the toilet." He tapped each picture absently before continuing on to the next folder. "Alejandro Ramirez jumped off a bridge. They found a note at his house blaming his girlfriend for never appreciating him. The cologne was next to his computer. Sally Jasek was--"

"How many times have you looked at these?" I interrupted, my shock slowly giving way to worry.

Joe looked up. The light from the lamp hollowed out his eyes and cast long shadows across his cheeks. "A lot."

I made my way tentatively around the couch, careful to avoid disturbing the remaining mountain of cases. "Why? They're awful."

His hands stilled. "They keep me close to Dad." He smiled grimly and closed the folder in front of him. "He was never around. This and his ghost hunting were the only things I had to keep me close to him." He shrugged. My heart broke at the desolate look in his eyes. "It's only horrible the first few times. Then, you just want justice." He met my gaze. "Do you understand now, Beks, why I'm so worried? I'm not paranoid and I'm not crazy. Even if I was, you've seen crazier in the past few days." Ariel offered a small smile. Joe held out the pictures he'd pulled out and, nervous, I took them. "You're the only thing I have left to care about, Beks, but you have absolutely no common sense."

"Agreed," Ariel muttered. I ignored him.

"Puck or James or Robin Goodfellow, whatever he goes by, is dangerous. He brings nothing but destruction and pain. Since you tend to walk blind, it's up to me to warn you." He pointed to the photos in my hands. "Those are proof that he's a murderer. And you've gone and made sure he knows who you are." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Even with