Read Online Wondrous Strange by Lesley Livingston - Free Book Online Page B

mule-head prop behind one fake, fuzzy ear.
    “Rain check?” she said, and tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.
    “Absolutely!” Alec nodded, and his smile halfway returned. “See you tomorrow,” he said before loping off toward the dressing rooms.
    After a minute she followed in his wake, walking a deliberate path through the darkened wings where she’d seen—where she’d thought she’d seen—someone. But, of course, there was no one there.

X
    T he boucca had Sonny by the throat.
    Sonny was furious with himself for allowing his guard to drop—Maddox had warned him about the boucca and not getting too close. But he’d been distracted by the boy with the ridiculous donkey head under his arm, and the uncomfortable surge of emotion that had washed over him when he saw him take the girl by the hand.
    The boucca wrinkled his nose, an expression of grim delight on his pale-green face. “I smell a Faerie killer.”
    “And I smell a pook,” Sonny ground out between clenched teeth. “Which of us is more pungent, I wonder?”
    A long, tense silence passed between them, and then the boucca threw back his head and laughed, releasing his punishing grip on Sonny’s larynx. “What’s a Janus doing down in Hell’s Kitchen on a day o’ the Nine?”
    Sonny rubbed at his neck, wincing. Sizing the boucca up, he dug into his messenger bag and tossed one of the onyx beads at him. “Where is it? What is it?”
    The boucca caught the bead out of the air, stared at it flatly for a long moment, and then tossed it back. “Not a clue.”
    “All right, then.” If Sonny was going to get any answers at all, he thought, he was going to have to play rough. A Faerie could be compelled to obey commands if one knew the secret of its true name. Sonny stared the boucca in the eyes and said gravely, “I do compel thee—”
    The boucca covered his pointed ears and began keening.
    Sonny pushed on, relentless. “By thy truest of names, I do compel thee, and thou shalt obey my commands, for I do call thee Robin Goodfellow .”
    The boucca’s shrieks suddenly turned to peals of laughter. “Oh, please!” he said finally, gasping in mirth. “That name’s not exactly the earth-shattering secret it once was, you know.” He wiped a tear from his eye, chortling. “You stupid great yob—you should get out to see more theater!”
    Sonny stood there, chagrined, the heat of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks.
    “Shakespeare spilled those beans quite some time ago.How do you expect me to go onstage night after night if every time someone chirps ‘Robin Goodfellow’ I fall to the ground in mindless submission?” The boucca shook his head in amused disgust. “I warned old Willie—gave him a scorching case of fleas, even. Bah—writers! Stubborn lot. Well, after that, the name sort of lost its potency, you know? Same with ‘Puck,’ so don’t bother trying. I can no more be compelled by those names than if you had just hallooed ‘Hey, buddy!’ at me.” He snorted and gave a parting shot. “Auberon’s breeding ’em up stupid these days, I see.”
    Sonny’s hands clenched into fists at the insult. Then he remembered the script he’d found, with the scribbled words: Kelley’s Script—Please Return (this means YOU, Bob! )
    Bouccas were notorious thieves.
    “Let’s try this, then,” he said. “I do compel thee by the name of…Bob.”
    The boucca stiffened and stopped in his tracks. He turned and pegged Sonny with a shrewd gaze.
    “Will you help me?” Sonny implored.
    Relenting, Bob the boucca said, “I’ve not a clue as to where it is. But…I do know what it is.”
    “It’s a kelpie, isn’t it?”
    “If you already know what it is, then why do you need me?”
    That seemed to confirm Sonny’s suspicions. He could press the boucca further on the matter of the kelpie, but there were other things he needed to understand now, and he didn’tknow how far he could push his luck. “All right,” he said.