Part Ten
“Humans and your damned technology.”
The situation is defused, thankfully. Apparently, mythics are as tech-savvy as Midwestern grandparents, and a negative Yelp review can be as intimidating as a curse.
Noted.
I put the five dollar bill on the bar. “May I have a beer, please?”
He snorts and snatches up the money, but the gun’s put away, and soon afterward there’s a metal stein put in front of me, the steel sweating onto the coaster beneath it. It’s a heavy stein, and there’s a smirk from the troll when I strain to pick it up, but I take a sip regardless, my legs crossing primly as the dangle from the stool.
Then I cough because that stuff is strong.
He bellows a laugh, and it’s only while I catch my breath that I notice that I’m the only other person in here other than the other guy who’s sweeping up broken glass.
“What’d you give her, Bjorn?”
The troll doesn’t look at him. “She wanted a beer. I gave her one.”
“C’mon, be nice to her, Bjorn. You know humans can’t handle your beer. I don’t think even satyrs can handle it.”
I look toward the blue-haired guy. “I don’t need defending. I’m not going to sleep with you.” With a deep breath, I try another sip of the beer. It’s still damned strong, but I know my limit. “And I paid for a beer, not for him to be nice to me. It’s information that I’m after. There was a murder in the Benedict-“
“Human, or one of mine?” I have his attention, at least.
“Human, she-“
“Why would I know or care?”
“Wait, wait.” Blue Hair is back. God, just back off. “Why would you come here investigating a human murder? You think it was one of us?”
Bjorn hmmms, then looks to Blue Hair, “Are the Sidhe hunting again? It’s not the right moon for it.”
Blue Hair gives Bjorn a quizzical expression, “How would I know that? And she’s Keth, all of them can understand Sigil so why are you speaking it?”
“Because I prefer it to their language. If a Keth is involved, it likely involves their kind.”
I raise my hand.
“Bjorn, I mean, it doesn’t make any sense to start speaking in another language to hide what you’re saying-“
“I’m not hiding what I’m saying. I’m saying this is a Keth matter so let the Keth see to it.”
“Damn it, now you’ve got me talking in Sigil. Perhaps we could-“
“Who is this ‘we’, Parsival?”
Yep. Hand still raised.
“Don’t use my name around a Keth!”
“You used mine.”
“We both know that’s not your true name!”
Fuck, I just starting waving at this point.
Blue Hair, no, Parsival blinks a few times. “Why are you doing that?”
“Oh, did you finally remember I was here? I’ll admit I don’t know that much about the Fae, other than-“
“We don’t steal children! Not on this continent, anyway.”
The troll glares at him. “It is impolite to interrupt a lady when she is speaking.”
“But you did earlier, didn’t you?”
And they’re back at it. I use the time to Google until it occurs to them that they’re ignoring me.
Again.
I sit up straight, take a deep breath. “Sir Bjorn, I have granted you a boon by granting release to your father’s spirit from his geas. Is it not proper protocol to offer gratitude, or recompense for my service?
His lips curl into a smile. I see teeth. Sharp teeth. “Unbidden service.”
I nod, curtly. “I see. Then I shall mend our faltering encounter by summoning his spirit again, and rebinding him to your own. It was impolite to speak his name in mixed company, but if you wish it, I am happy to restore the status quo.” I glance at Parsival. “Whether he is present for this I leave entirely in your hands, Sir Bjorn. Again, I have no wish to speak your father’s true name aloud where some malicious force might take advantage, of course, but as I have performed an unbidden service, it would appear I have no other options. A pity.”
The troll sets his jaw. “You’ve had dealings with the Fae before.”
I now have a smile of my own. “I could tell you, but an answer would seem a privilege.”
“Bjorn, she’s just Googling that stuff on her phone.”
This time I’m the one that glares at Parsival.
The troll smirks at him. “Perhaps. But she referred to me as Sir Bjorn. When was the last time a Keth showed me any respect or honorifics in my own bar?”
I keep from speaking up, asking the question, because what little I found on Google implies I’d owe him for the answer as well. Still, there are other people out there like me, that are local, it seems. It’s something to consider for the future, but I’ve got a job to do right now.
There’s been enough of a pause to believe this is where I can jump in politely. “I have no answer for that, Sir Bjorn. I came to your establishment seeking information to further investigate a killing. I do not believe that the guilty party is one of your patrons, but a killing such as the one I found might have been discussed as idle gossip, and what better place to gather rumor and idle gossip?”
He nods, once, bidding me to continue.
“I saw the spirit of your father and he appeared to be in pain. I acted without all of the information, or your permission, and for that I offer my sincerest apologies. Although he was freed from his geas, it was, as you stated, unbidden by you.” I bow my head in remorse.
I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder, and when I look up, his smile has returned, but it’s more natural, less toothy.
“Your apology is accepted, Lady.” I could practically hear the capital L.
“Thank you, Sir Bjorn. You may call me Absinthe.”
He actually bows in a courtly manner, which doesn’t match the Iron Maiden shirt, but it’s not like I can curtsey in cargo pants either. “Lady Absinthe.”
The snerk from Parsival is quickly shut down with a glare from both the troll and I.
“That, Parsival, is why you half-bloods are not taken seriously.”
“Twin bloods,” he grumbles.
“Perhaps,” I say, my tone not deferent, but more parental, “Sir Bjorn is intimating that one receives respect when one gives it?”
Gritted teeth now from him, but he’s silent. And not happy.
“Perhaps Parsival can aid you in your investigation, Lady Absinthe? He has aspirations of righting wrongs and other knightly behaviors.”
I can tell that Bjorn’s just trying to get rid of him, but I’m already on thin ice even if he did accept my apology. “I am grateful for the advice, Sir Bjorn.”
“And the offer?” He smiles, a little toothier.
“Will there be recompense for this offer, Sir?”
The troll laughs, boomingly. “Oh, taking him off my hands will be service enough.”
“Then I accept.”
“What?” Parsival finally speaks up, incredulous.
“Parsival, your debt is now the property of Lady…”
I don’t understand the next part.
All I know is I’ve got a headache now, and it feels like my arm is being tightly gripped.
“You gave me to her?”
“Parsival, is it?” I ask through the hammer agony behind my eyeballs. “Will you just shut up?”
“Now, if you two will excuse me, I’m going to close.”
I’m still in pain as I’m pulled outside, and soon the sound of closing doors, and locks being set brings me out of the pounding haze of the headache. Parsival is in front of me, glaring.
“Fuck, my head is pounding. Parsival? Don’t suppose you have any aspirin?”
His face trembles, but he walks off. Fine, fuck you then, too. I wasn’t expecting anything out of him, but I do feel a little bad that I apparently got him fired. The parking lot is empty, and it’s late, but it’s still Beckettsville, so I’m not worried about being attacked. I just need to sit down for a while and breathe.
Minutes later, the pain has faded a notch, and I’m leaning against a brick wall across the street from the bar. I check my phone for the time, weather. It’s a long walk home, but I stopped caring about the lack of progress five minutes ago.
“Here.” A paper bag is thrust at me, Parsival still angry, but who cares if he’s bitchy? I take it, and look inside to find…
A bottle of aspirin.
Well, now I feel crappy. I open the bottle, take a couple dry. “Thank you.”
He’s still looking miffed.
“Do you want me to pay you back?”
Just a glare.
“Parsival, are you going to talk to me, or what?”
“Can I?” He practically screams it in my face.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“It’s not even fifteen minutes and you’re already commanding me by name!”
Parsival, shut up.
Parsival, get me aspirin.
Parsival, talk to me.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.
That troll didn’t give me help.
He gave me a slave.