The Keeper Ch. 10-11

Chapter Ten

Seattle's Fremont neighborhood always had a reputation for quirkiness. From the statue of Lenin with its blood-red hand to the life-size rocket from the 60s that juts out of an office complex to the concrete troll with a VW Bug in its clutches lurking under the Aurora Avenue Bridge. The neighborhood has always gone the extra mile to live up to its unofficial motto, Libertas Quirkas -- "freedom to be peculiar."

But Fremont held far stranger secrets than the mundanes who lived there knew.

Behind Lenin, there existed a doorway of sorts--a rift in the fabric of reality only accessible to those with the proper skills. The passage was one of twelve scattered across the continents of Earth. All led to a massive metropolis known simply as Oldtown. Millennia older than Aleppo or Jericho, it was populated with humans, Sidhe halflings, Kin, and other magical and semi-magical beings who lived together peacefully. Most of its citizens were descendants of slaves who had escaped the bondage of the Sidhe. They had begged, tricked, or borrowed passage through various Thinnings to escape the constant wars of the Dokkalfar and Ljosalfar. The city's unofficial mayor was a reclusive vampire who was old enough to have shared a bottle of wine with Richard the Lionhearted during his internment in Vienna.

Although she was not comfortable in an urban environment, Niamh moved through the narrow cobblestone streets of Old-Town with ease. She had been there for a day and a half putting out feelers with beings she knew in an attempt to get the slightest scent of any news of slavers. She had a sense that the center of the operation was here somewhere, but the city was huge. It was a needle in the haystack situation.

Her latest stop was one of the clinics that served Old Town's medical needs. It was commonly known as Steve and Edie's, after the healer Edana O'Keefe and her brother Steve.

"Why Niamh Harpe, what a nice surprise. Come on in." Edie was an elf-halfling with strawberry blond hair and catlike amber eyes that Niamh thought looked like those of every nurse she'd ever met, mundane or magical, warmly sympathetic overlaid with a large dose of cynicism.

Rex, a big pure white malamute who was the office greeter, caught Niamh's scent and moved over to Edie's side. He bristled and made a low rumbling growl.

"Easy boy," Edie gave him a scratch behind the ears. "I better go put him in the back room. I don't know why you two can't get along."

Niamh gave the big dog a half snarl as he reluctantly followed his master, all the while staring back at her suspiciously. She leaned on the counter, idly paging through the local newspaper, waiting for the healer to return.

"So, what's up? Been months since you've been down here in the city."

"I was enjoying an extended vacation, which my boss cut short. They have me looking for a missing little female wolf-kin. The council thinks the slavers are striking again. Heard anything?"

Edie looked sympathetic. "That's awful. I don't know how you stand working on these kinds of cases. I haven't heard a word, but I've been buried in ODs. This new drug, Fairy's Tears, is sweeping through Old Town. It's highly addictive and toxic over time. The Sweet Mother of All only knows how the mundane doctors on the other side are handling it."

She looked over Niamh's shoulder toward the door and her eyes widened.

"Oh Damn."

Niamh turned to see two men walk in and look around like they were thinking of buying the place. The first was a stocky forty-something rat-faced man with a scruff who was trying for a mid-twenties hip but ending up looking middle-aged, fat, and ridiculous. She noted the bulge of a weapon under his left arm.

The other was a huge shifter with a bored look on his face.

She instantly classified rat-face. A predator. A demi-goblin used to taking what he wanted when he wanted. The scent of the big guy told her he was Ursa-kin, a bear shifter, from the size of him, probably grizzly.

Niamh knew the type. She figured the guy was one of the new crop of cross-border drug suppliers. Mundane Fremont was filled with tech yuppies who provided a ready market for fae-wrought designer drugs. The drug Evie mentioned had almost surely had its origin in the labs of Dökkálfar alchemists. The dark elves were big on designer drugs--for centuries they had found a ready market with those beings who found immortality to be too heavy a burden. This demi-goblin obviously thought of himself as Tony Montana. The bear shifter looked too dumb to be evil.

She had more important things to do than worry about a small-time pusher.

Rat-face glanced at Niamh, dismissed her, and turned to Edie.

"You know why we're here. Where's Steve?"

"Armand, please leave us alone."

"Your brother owes me money. He had a choice, either money or dogs. I warned him what would happen if he didn't deliver what I asked."

He pushed himself close to Edie, too close. She looked furious and terrified at the same time.

Shit. None of my business.

Niamh cleared her throat.

He looked over at her, trying for Alpha dominance. "Hey good looking, this is a private conversation so get lost."

Seriously? Niamh gave him a sour look. "Go away. I do not have time for this."

Rat-man didn't like the sound of that. He bared his teeth.

The tension in the room ramped up.

She sighed. "Edie, what do you have going on with this asshole."

"This is Armand Deloitte. Steve owes him money. He sells drugs and sets up animal fights on the side. He works for The McGuire."

"Well now, that's fortuitous. The disgusting Leprechaun is next on my list. He has his fingers in all sorts of pies on both sides of the border. Armand can escort me there."

Niamh snatched the collapsible asp she carried in a side pocket and with one smooth motion sapped the big guy along the right side of his head. A hollow thunk sounded and the man dropped to the floor.

Niamh turned to the smaller man. "Listen goblin, I do not care much for dogs, but I really hate folks who hurt them, so if I were you, I would stand there very quietly."

The goblin gulped and nodded, still in shock from seeing his man so casually disposed of.

"I need you to call Leprechaun and tell him Niamh Harpe wants to meet with him.

At the mention of her name, the demi-goblin paled and scrabbled for the gun under his coat.

He was far too slow.

Niamh grabbed the gun with one hand and broke his wrist with the other.

She tapped the muzzle between rat-faces' eyes.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Goblin," she said. "I am losing patience. Call over there and find out if he is there."

"He'll kill me."

"I do not care. Maybe he will, but I most certainly will if you do not do what I ask. I doubt anyone will miss you."

Rat-face was gasping like a fish out of water, staring cross-eyed at the gun resting on the bridge of his nose.

He dialed.

Edie hadn't moved from the counter. Her face was pale white with shock.

"Edie, come help me with this big lummox." Together they helped the dazed shifter to a chair.

"Check him out. Ursa-kin are tough, so he's probably okay. It's not his fault that he works for an asshole.             

Edie found a penlight in the top drawer. She walked over to the big guy, switched it on.

"Look straight ahead," She shined the flashlight into his eyes then away then back again, then held up a finger. "Follow the finger with your eyes. No, don't turn your head. Now count backward from 15."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like crap." The big guy said. "Got a killer headache."

"You have a concussion." Edie gave him some pills. "Go home, take these and shift and I think you'll be okay, but if you have any dizzy spells, you better get to a hospital."

He gave Edie a thankful smile, Niamh a respectful nod, and wobbled his way out the door.

Niamh stood close to the demi-goblin.

"Anybody else Armand, I would just ask for their word to not bother my friend Edie, but in my experience drug dealers are not all that reliable. Here's the deal, if you take me to The McGuire and behave yourself, we will see if we can work something out. If not... I will end you. Probably should anyway. I hate drug dealers."

***

The Leprechaun's club was called Danny's Shamrock Club. Located in the warehouse district down by the docks. The place was packed when Niamh showed up in front of the club with a discouraged-looking Armand Deloitte at her side. The doorman, a huge mountain troll, eyes widened as he took a look at the six-foot woman approaching him. He reached for the phone.

A burly bearded Ursa-kin politely stepped to the side as they walked in. "Miss Harpe, it is a pleasure to see you again." He said with a smile.

"Kirk Falstad. Please do not tell me you are working for the Leprechaun.

"Nah, I'm more of a free spirit. I don't do employee." He leaned close and whispered a warning. "Watch yourself here. The place feels off tonight."

Niamh smiled at him. "I always do Kirk. You know that."

She pulled him to one side.

"I would ask a favor, though. Do you know Edie down at the Clinic? Mr. Deloite here has been harassing her. Would you mind educating him of the perils of threatening the city's most popular healer? I promised him he would not be killed, but he is the type that needs some firm lessons to remember to stay away from Edie and her clinic."

"I can do that. I'll even give him a ride home so he can heal up."

He grabbed the demi-goblin by one of his hairy ears and walked out.

Rumor had it that the Leprechaun called McGuire made his initial money by running a whorehouse in Skagway during the Alaska gold rush. McGuire was not a Lucky Charms sort of leprechaun -- he was old, fat, and evil. He was also one of The Three--the cabal who ran Oldtown's underground. He was a pimp and a slaver. Everybody knew that but getting people to talk about him was impossible.

He was repugnant until he spoke. His voice was the source of his power. A deep and velvety-rich voice held persuasive golden tones that slithered their way inside a listener's normal social defenses and charmed. After listening to him, his looks and smell were immaterial to the men and women who worked for him, and the longer they worked for him, the more they worshipped him.

Jabba the Hutt was Niamh's thought every time she saw him.

As soon as she stepped fully into the office, she knew she had fucked up. She cursed herself for being so stupidly careless. The goblin hadn't told her everything. She was in trouble, maybe fatal trouble.

The fat leprechaun was not alone.

A shrouded woman, probably the Hag-Witch that Mina had mentioned, sat on a scarlet leather couch in the corner.

Bad enough--but a truly terrifying being was leaning against the wall across the room with a smile on his unearthly handsome face. A fucking Dökkálfar prince.

She desperately tried to shift as soon as she saw him, but the elf smiled mockingly and raised his hand.

His magic flared white-bright and the sheer power of it overwhelmed her.

She found herself caught helplessly in his gaze.

He smirked and languidly flicked a dismissive hand and the room faded to black. She didn't even feel the pain when her head hit the floor.

Chapter Eleven

After meeting with Katie, Quinn found himself far more confused than enlightened. If things were going to go to hell that badly, why did they think HE could make a difference.

He drove home to pick up his little guest. She was sitting out on his porch waiting for him. From the look of her, Gus's lady friend had been successful in finding her something to wear. Now, instead of a baggy t-shirt, she wore jeans, a University of Washington hoodie, and some blinky-light pink sneakers.

"Wow, don't you look like a little co-ed?"

No answer, of course, just a blank look.

"Okay, let me run in and say goodbye to Uncle Gus, and then we're going on an adventure."

After she got herself belted in. Quinn wondered if he should have gotten some sort of car seat for her. Then thought he should get one, just in case. Did Target have car seats? He shook his head. What a difference a couple of days made--here he was driving along debating the purchase of a car seat.

Unreal.

Time to get back to the business at hand. He called the man Gus thought could help him.

Kirk Falstad answered on the first ring.

"Gus Hope gave me your number and suggested you could give me some advice on a small problem. How about meeting me at the Raven's Pub in Oldtown?"

"Give me an hour." And he hung up.

"Wow," Quinn said to the little girl, "that Kirk's a talker. Talk your leg off if you give him half a chance. First, though, I'm gonna stop for some ice cream. You can wait in the truck because I know you probably don't like ice cream."

She gave him a look that told him she didn't think he was one bit funny.

Quinn laughed and turned on the radio for some music to drive to. When they reached Ballard, they pulled over and parked, and walked into Salt and Straw.

After they had silently feasted on a couple of Chocolate Gooey Brownie scoops. Quinn spoke up. "Next we're going to see my friend Edie. She can check you out while I talk with Gus's friend. Have you ever been to Oldtown?"

She shook her head.

"Well then, prepare yourself for an adventure." They climbed into the truck and started off.

"You're an idiot, you know that, don't you?" Quinn muttered to himself as they drove along. At the sound of his voice, the girl cocked her head at him, then went back to staring out the window at the city whizzing by. Quinn smiled at her. His life had never been long on companions. It was kind of nice just hanging with her. Just being with the little person made him feel lighter somehow. She does not belong with you, he told himself firmly. Just get her back to her people.

They stopped at a Starbucks to get two pounds of French-Roast beans, then they drove into Fremont and parked in a parking lot by the Ship Canal Bridge. He held out his hand and they walked hand and hand the two blocks up to the statue of Lenin with the blood-red hand. Quinn glanced around to make sure they were unobserved and slipped through the passage into Oldtown.

It was mid-morning in Oldtown as they stepped out of the passage and onto Market Street. The girl wrinkled her nose as they were immediately hit by a combination of coal smoke from cooking fires and the manure smell from the countless horses and oxen that hauled freight in the city.

Earth tech did not fare well in this world.

The cobble-stoned street that ran by the passage thronged with shoppers of all species. The little girl's head swiveled back and forth like a metronome as she took in the scene.

"I told you we were going on an adventure," Quinn whispered with a smile as he watched her excited face.

She nodded agreement absently and pulled on his hand to slow their walk so she could watch a stone-skinned rock ogre bargain furiously in low alfar with two White-Forge dwarves over a double-bitted ax. The big ogre wanted it, but the price was too high. The dwarves said he was a skin-flint thief trying to take food out of their babies' mouths.

As Quinn and the girl passed by, the three stopped their bickering. and smiled cheerfully at the little girl and gave Quinn a wary glance. They crossed the street dodging the overloaded wagon of a produce seller and walked into Steve and Edie's Clinic and Apothecary.

Quinn had met Edie and her brother Steve a couple of years ago after Gus had volunteered him to do the finish work on her remodeled clinic. He'd been friends with them ever since.

"Hey there, stranger, long time no see," Edie said as they entered. "Is that Starbucks I smell?"

"Yep, thought you might like some." He put the bag of coffee beans down on her counter. "I need a favor."

"Of course, if I can," she said, looking at the little girl at his side. "Who's your little friend?" Edie took a closer look at the little girl. "Lachlan, what the hell are you doing with a little wolf-kin girl."

"It's a long story," Quinn said and began filling her in while the little girl played with the clinic's malamute.

The petite half-blood elf's amber eyes widened as the story unfolded.

"Sweet Mother All, Lachlan, you don't do things by halves, do you?"

Quinn sighed. "I guess not Edie. Anyway, could you take a look at her? I didn't see any signs of physical injury but the psychological--who knows."

Quinn knelt by the dog and the little girl.

"I am going over across the street for a short little while. Edie here is a real nice lady. She's going to check you over."

She gave him a resigned nod of her head, stood, and took the pretty doctor's hand and the two of them walked to the back.

The last Quinn saw was the girl looking back at him with a fearful look on her face.

"I'll be back before you know it," Quinn called out trying to reassure her but knowing it wouldn't. He remembered well the panicky anxiety when a social worker left him all alone with strangers in a new place.

***

Kirk Falstad looked like he could play left tackle for the Seahawks. Quinn stood from his table in the corner of the tavern and shook his hand.

"Good to meet you, Mr. Falstad. I'm Lachlan Quinn. Have a seat."

"I know who you are. Call me Kirk," the big Ursa-kin said. "You were lucky to catch me over on the mundane side when you called, I haven't been spending much time over there. What's up?"

"Need some advice. I'm not sure how much Gus told you, so I'll start at the beginning. A couple of nights ago, a woman knocked on my door and put a wolf-kin pup in my arms, and disappeared into the night. I need to get the pup back to her people. Thing is, she can't or won't talk much, so she can't tell me about her pack. I don't know what to do to help her. I'm hoping you can help me. She's one of your people, isn't she?"

The big man gave him a considering look.

"According to Gus, you're a good guy and I owe him, so I'm willing to cut you some slack and meet with you. Everybody in Oldtown has been wondering for a while what your deal is. You seem to be human mundane, yet you move between both worlds with ease. There's something dark and oddly efficient about the way you handle yourself that makes everybody step carefully around you. I got a hunch you figured out five ways to put me down before you shook my hand. I know guys like you. You're one of those guys who always has an edge because you never have to figure out what to do in any confrontation. You already know because you've had to do it before many times. You just act and react."

Quinn gave him a bland no-comment look.

"Word is that the Leprechaun hates you. Care to share why? "

"I met him a couple of years back, we had a conversation about the age of some of the street walkers he employs."

Quinn remembered the pinched face of a skinny twelve-year-old girl named Lark who had propositioned him one night coming of this very tavern. In the end, Quinn had taken her up to Emory and left her with Gus' mother, Marigold. Say what you would about the witches, they went out of their way to care for homeless kids. He made a note to himself to check on her.

The big man smiled without humor. "Well, keep your secrets. First of all, your little wolf is not my kind. I'm Ursa--Were-Grizzly, not a wolf. Different clans entirely. Why did you get involved?"

"Somebody has to help. She is all alone."

"Hmm, you're a funny guy. Go from carpenter to fucking social worker. Well, this can bite you in the ass. Wolf-kin alphas are very touchy about their young. Chances are good that they will go insane when they find out you have her."

"So everybody says. Look, all I want to do is get this little girl home to her family and get back to my normal life. I'm not interested in Kin politics."