Double Take - A.J. Cole (classic fiction txt) 📗

but I’ve longed for someone to whom I could pass my crown, so to speak. And while I no longer wear it because of my atrocious behavior last night, I can still wish for a successor. You, my child, have been the one I wished to see take my place one day, and I still do. That, in part, is why I was so upset about your relationship with Finn. I feared it could mean your death, not to mention you becoming a hated memory because of the damage the Sidhe would do to our community. So I am happier than you can imagine that none of my fears were founded.” She squeezed Arissa’s shoulders, stepped back, and turned away, heading for the door.

Watching her leave, Arissa whispered, “Thank you,” knowing the ex-queen would hear it… wait. She’d been deposed? By whom? Who had the power to do that to her? Was there another vampire somewhere who was more powerful?

“What is it?” Finn had gotten up and was standing beside her.

“I’m trying to figure out who could have taken her down like that. Any ideas?”

“One. Maybe you didn’t notice, or maybe you don’t see auras, but I do. There’s one of you whose aura is so powerful, it almost scared the earwax out of me – good thing he seems to like me.”

Arissa turned and stared up at him, perplexed. “What? Who?”

“The vampire who came into the bar last night, of course.” And before she could reply, he kissed her.

Discussion over. 

SIXTEEN

 

Wizards, according to every silly book Arissa had read about them as a child, wore pointed hats. They had beards and long robes with moons and stars all over them. They carried tall staff thingies with a crystal ball or some such item embedded in the top. What they didn’t wear were jeans and an old sweatshirt with a faded Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” album cover printed on the front. They also didn’t have shaved heads, no facial hair other than a scruffy-looking five o’clock shadow, or carry electronic notebooks.

“You’re a wizard?”

“No. Don’t be stupid. I just know how to do real magic.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Arissa, this is Dusty. He hates being called a wizard, and with all the nonsense out there about them these days, who can blame him?”

Arissa was in Murphy’s in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday. Those three facts were astonishing enough, but then this young man with a shaved head, an unshaved jaw, and a Pink Floyd sweatshirt had shuffled in, a Dell notebook under one arm. He had nodded at Finn, ogled Arissa, and sat at the bar a few stools away from the pair. That was when the list of astonishing things had grown longer.

“Ah, my wizard friend!” Finn had greeted him.

In response, the young man had scowled, belched, and demanded an ale, prompting Arissa’s query.

“Okay,” she said, now that she knew the cretin’s name. “I can respect that, what with Snogwarts and all… whatever it’s called in that… stop laughing at me, Finn.” She slapped his arm. Having heard snippets of those books but never having read them, she wasn’t sure about any of the names in them – not that it mattered. “So if you aren’t a wizard, what do you call yourself?”

“Right now? Thirsty.”

“Thirsty Dusty. Or Dusty Thirsty. I see.”

“No, you clearly don’t. You may be beautiful, but I’m guessing there aren’t a lot of functioning brain cells in that gorgeous head.”

Arissa found herself wondering what would happen if she bit a wizard. Would he turn into a flatulent toad in a sparkly hat at the new moon? Before she could ask, Finn stood and approached the redoubtable Dusty, put a hand on his shoulder, and bent down to whisper something in the bald youth’s ear.

Dusty turned grey. He gulped. He whispered something back to Finn. Finn smiled and returned to his seat beside Arissa.

A schooner of golden, frothy liquid was place before dear Dusty, who took a long, Adam’s-apple-shifting series of gulps. Placing the glass down, he turned toward Arissa and offered her a smile. Not a regular smile, but one that looked like it had been hiding in the back of an underwear drawer, hoping it would never be called upon. “To answer your question, I think of myself more as a mage.”

“But you can do real magic.”

“Yes. I’m not immortal or anything, but I do have certain abilities that will probably keep me alive longer than most – assuming I don’t get my head torn off for saying something stupid to the wrong person.” His right eye twitched at Finn.

“I see.” She did. A reward awaited her fae champion later, she vowed. “Do you know fae magic, then?” Arissa had been paying attention when in Sidhe company, oh, yes she had. It always made sense to be alert when around those who had the potential to destroy all life on the planet.

After taking another sip, Dusty nodded. “In fact I do. Finn here tells me you’re a kind of hybrid.”

As opposed to Finn there…and when did he tell you that? A nanosecond later she realized he must have told Dusty the Mage/Wizard what she was while terrifying him into civility with that whisper. “A triple hybrid. Human, vampire, and werewolf. They call me a werepire, but personally, I’d say a more accurate term would be Humpirewolf.” She frowned. “Or not – that’s kind of clumsy.” She heard a snicker and turned. “Stop it.”

Finn changed his expression to something more serious (which didn’t fool Arissa for a second), and asked Dusty if he wanted more ale.

“No, this is… I’m fine. I came to see your father, to tell you the truth. Is he here?”

“Probably asleep on the floor somewhere in the back. I’ll go get him. You two play nice, please.” Sliding off the stool, Finn gave them a raised eyebrow and a nod, and headed for a door on the other side of the room.

Arissa considered the pseudo-wizard for a second. “Is there any point in trying to converse with you?”

“None.”

“Thought so.” She gave him a nice smile that was about as heart-felt as a politician’s promise and returned her focus to the glass of wine in front of her on the bar. The very glass, in fact, that she had been on the verge of relieving of its contents when Dusty shuffled in.

“Is that one of those dumb spritzers?”

“Do you see any bubbles?” Why was this weird guy saying anything at all to her? He’d just nixed the whole conversation thing.

“No. Just – I’m used to seeing girls drink those things.”

“You don’t get out much, do you.” She hadn’t asked, eliminating the need for a question mark.

Sighing, Dusty stared at her, or at least she felt him doing that since she wasn’t facing him. Profile stares had always been more easily detectable in bar situations, Arissa had discovered. Weird. She took a sip, put down the glass, and swiveled her seat to face the young man who she was about to call Dustbunny. He was getting on her nerves now. “Can I help you?”

“Ha! As if you could.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, girls as beautiful as you can’t seem to find the time to relate to me on more than a get-lost-creep level, so I doubt you could say anything useful.”

“Why are you talking to me, then?”

Shrug.

“Okay. Maybe this is easier – why are you staring at me?”

“Because you’re freaking gorgeous, obviously.”

Arissa nodded. “Right. Obviously. Not my fault, then. Or maybe you think anyone you consider attractive should be swathed in head scarves or something.”

“Who I consider attractive? What – you don’t think you are?”

“I know I am, or at least I’m aware that I have my moments. But what the hell does that have to do with being civil? Do you think that every girl who doesn’t look like a shoe is an idiot or something?”

Dusty had taken a sip of his ale, but choked a little. “A… ack. A shoe? Ha! Good one! But, well, did you even finish high school?”

Arissa was astonished. “What century are you from, dude? Holy cow! I’m in college, and eventually plan to get my Masters, maybe even a Doctorate.”

“In what?”

“Veterinary biology.” Arissa had the sudden, odd sensation of staring at herself in shock. Where on earth had that come from? She was in college for a business degree, for crap’s sake!

“You have to be good in math to do that.” Dusty the Smug took another sip.

“I figured out the Fibonacci sequence when I was five years old, and love playing with non-Euclidean geometry and string theory when I’m bored. You?” Good thing there’s no full moon tonight, you self-satisfied bozo.

Putting his glass on the bar, his notepad down beside it, Dusty crossed his arms and glared at her for a full three seconds. “Okay, that’s so not fair!”

“What isn’t? That she has beauty and brains?” Finn eased onto the stool beside Arissa.

She didn’t turn, too busy watching Dusty beginning to melt down. Fascinating.

“Wh-yes!”

“You worry about all the wrong things, Dusty-lad.” Finn’s father had appeared behind the bar when Arissa wasn’t paying attention, startling her. He belched.

Swiveling straight once more and facing the elder Murphy, Dusty grunted and handed him the notepad. “I brought what you asked for.”

Mr. Murphy stared down at it for a few seconds, nodding and muttering in what Arissa suspected was Gaelic. “This is exactly what I was looking for, Dusty lad. Now I can take care of something that’s been chewing on this old brain during the wee hours.” He slapped the counter while uttering a loud, “Humph!” and went back to wherever he’d been.

Dusty downed the rest of his drink, stood up, and sat back down with a backside-punishing thud.

“Something wrong?”

“Yes, Finn. I’m dizzy. What did you give me?”

“Irish ale, of course.”

“With what in it?”

Finn frowned, leaned an elbow on the bar, rested his chin on his upraised palm and stared over Dusty’s head at the far wall. “Let’s see now… hops, distilled water, barley perhaps… not sure… ”

Whatever else he may have been about to add to the recipe was interrupted by Dusty sliding off the stool in a kind of gentle slow motion and crumpling to the floor.

“What did you give him, Finn?” Arissa wasn’t worried, since she’d been convinced that Finn and this wizard fellow were good friends. Curious was all.

“A little something to keep him from protesting when I had him hauled away to the safe room.”

“Why would he need to be in a – in a safe room?”

“So he doesn’t get murdered the second he leaves here.” Finn shrugged, took out his cell, and texted something.

Arissa wanted to ask him the obvious, but had gotten to know her Irish fae well enough to appreciate his reticence about things that were none of her business. So she sipped at her drink without raising so much as an eyebrow when two burly gentlemen rolled into the bar, picked up the wizard – one under the arms, the other by the feet – and carried him through the door leading into the back rooms behind the bar. They had not, however, taken the Dell with them.

“Is it safe to leave this around?” She picked up the notebook and held it out toward Finn.

“No.