Cambodia.
Beth stared at me like I’d crushed it.
“What? I warned him. Welcome to Kingdom.”
* * *
BETH ALTERNATED BETWEEN crying over a talking squirrel and staring at the wyverns, trolls, and princesses for the better part of the next ten minutes. Finally, I led her to a cart where dozens more talking squirrels waited. “I have to make a phone call. You stay here and talk to these little guys, and if you still want one, when I get back, I’ll buy it for you.” I left her there, cooing and giggling as she traded greetings, and went to call Liam.
Grimm usually acted as a sort of telephone operator for calls between his agents. He soon tired of the sorts of conversations Liam and I had, and set up our own private “chat” line. All I had to do was put my hand on my bracelet and think of Liam.
“Liam?” I was used to looking in mirrors or anything that can reflect when I called by bracelet, but since neither of us were fairies, Grimm said we didn’t have a data plan, just voice.
After a moment he answered. “Kind of busy, M. Call you back?” In the background, someone screamed, someone else growled, and then came a crunching sound like chicken bones snapping.
“What are you doing?” Then I remembered what day it was. “Are you fighting with the bridge troll again? What did I tell you about that? Let it go.”
“Maybe.”
Maybe, my ass. “You either are or you aren’t.”
“I’m not.”
I so wished I could scowl at him, so I made certain he could hear it in my tone. “Are you telling me there isn’t a bridge troll within ten feet of you?”
He panted as he ran. “No. Definitely not even within twenty feet. I’m trying to get a few loose ends tied up before I leave.”
Grimm had spent the last couple weeks trying to persuade a certain troll to stop devouring bicyclists. I don’t actually think Grimm cared about the cyclists, but the troll showed signs of spandex poisoning, and trolls weren’t known for listening to their dieticians.
“Listen, I’m taking our new piper to lunch at the Mile High Club. Meet me there?” From Liam’s end, the drone of cars passing overhead confirmed what I already suspected.
“Give me forty-five minutes,” said Liam. I didn’t like it. He could’ve walked there in twenty, which meant he wanted to have another go at the troll before he left. Boyfriend, I reminded myself. Not slave (at least, not all the time), so I let it go.
Back at the cart, Beth had her kazoo to her mouth and was humming “It’s a Small World” as loud as one could on a plastic kazoo, which wasn’t very loud. In the cages, animals rocked back and forth, enthralled. As I walked up, a look of relief swept through her. She took the kazoo out and dropped her shoulders.
I smiled. Maybe this year’s Poodling would go better after all. “Looks like someone is figuring out how to control their power.”
She glared at the stack of cages. “They don’t ever shut up.” Another lesson learned, but I had another to teach, and doing that required a visit to my third least favorite place in the world. Number two was the Kingdom Post Office. Inferno ranked at Four, in case you are wondering. Yeah, I’d rather go to hell than visit the post office. The Department of Licensing was a special case. I hated it worse than the others combined, but as far as I’m concerned the DOL is a province of Inferno.
We walked down streets, taking our time. Gradually Beth learned to close her mouth, and to look out for wyvern droppings, and not to talk to strange clowns in weird masks. That’s not a Kingdom-specific lesson, but obviously no one ever taught it to her. “Here.” I pointed across the street to a shop. Not the Mile High Club, yet.
The outside of the shop was your standard Kingdom magical facade. Pink, shimmery, and glittered in the sun. The gold lettering on the door said “Isyle Witch” in large block letters.
“Does that mean ‘witch’ like warts and cauldrons and
Beth stared at me like I’d crushed it.
“What? I warned him. Welcome to Kingdom.”
* * *
BETH ALTERNATED BETWEEN crying over a talking squirrel and staring at the wyverns, trolls, and princesses for the better part of the next ten minutes. Finally, I led her to a cart where dozens more talking squirrels waited. “I have to make a phone call. You stay here and talk to these little guys, and if you still want one, when I get back, I’ll buy it for you.” I left her there, cooing and giggling as she traded greetings, and went to call Liam.
Grimm usually acted as a sort of telephone operator for calls between his agents. He soon tired of the sorts of conversations Liam and I had, and set up our own private “chat” line. All I had to do was put my hand on my bracelet and think of Liam.
“Liam?” I was used to looking in mirrors or anything that can reflect when I called by bracelet, but since neither of us were fairies, Grimm said we didn’t have a data plan, just voice.
After a moment he answered. “Kind of busy, M. Call you back?” In the background, someone screamed, someone else growled, and then came a crunching sound like chicken bones snapping.
“What are you doing?” Then I remembered what day it was. “Are you fighting with the bridge troll again? What did I tell you about that? Let it go.”
“Maybe.”
Maybe, my ass. “You either are or you aren’t.”
“I’m not.”
I so wished I could scowl at him, so I made certain he could hear it in my tone. “Are you telling me there isn’t a bridge troll within ten feet of you?”
He panted as he ran. “No. Definitely not even within twenty feet. I’m trying to get a few loose ends tied up before I leave.”
Grimm had spent the last couple weeks trying to persuade a certain troll to stop devouring bicyclists. I don’t actually think Grimm cared about the cyclists, but the troll showed signs of spandex poisoning, and trolls weren’t known for listening to their dieticians.
“Listen, I’m taking our new piper to lunch at the Mile High Club. Meet me there?” From Liam’s end, the drone of cars passing overhead confirmed what I already suspected.
“Give me forty-five minutes,” said Liam. I didn’t like it. He could’ve walked there in twenty, which meant he wanted to have another go at the troll before he left. Boyfriend, I reminded myself. Not slave (at least, not all the time), so I let it go.
Back at the cart, Beth had her kazoo to her mouth and was humming “It’s a Small World” as loud as one could on a plastic kazoo, which wasn’t very loud. In the cages, animals rocked back and forth, enthralled. As I walked up, a look of relief swept through her. She took the kazoo out and dropped her shoulders.
I smiled. Maybe this year’s Poodling would go better after all. “Looks like someone is figuring out how to control their power.”
She glared at the stack of cages. “They don’t ever shut up.” Another lesson learned, but I had another to teach, and doing that required a visit to my third least favorite place in the world. Number two was the Kingdom Post Office. Inferno ranked at Four, in case you are wondering. Yeah, I’d rather go to hell than visit the post office. The Department of Licensing was a special case. I hated it worse than the others combined, but as far as I’m concerned the DOL is a province of Inferno.
We walked down streets, taking our time. Gradually Beth learned to close her mouth, and to look out for wyvern droppings, and not to talk to strange clowns in weird masks. That’s not a Kingdom-specific lesson, but obviously no one ever taught it to her. “Here.” I pointed across the street to a shop. Not the Mile High Club, yet.
The outside of the shop was your standard Kingdom magical facade. Pink, shimmery, and glittered in the sun. The gold lettering on the door said “Isyle Witch” in large block letters.
“Does that mean ‘witch’ like warts and cauldrons and
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