Allie stared at him. Frowned. And closed the door.
Definitely translucent.
Open, opaque.
Closed, translucent.
Open…
“What the hell are you doing?” He looked ready to bolt.
She touched his shoulder and felt substance, although it gave a little under her finger. “You’re not dead.”
“I’m not what?” he demanded, jerking away from her touch.
“Dead.”
“Why would you be thinking I’m dead?”
“Give me a minute.” Closing the door again, she searched it for charms and found a clear-sight drawn on the painted steel frame that held the glass. So what she saw through the glass was the young man’s true appearance. But he wasn’t dead. Interesting.
This time when she opened the door, he rattled out, “Are you Alysha Catherine Gale?” before she could speak. “Your grandmother said I could trust you.”
“And you are?”
“Joe O’Hallan.”
The other signature on the will. That could mean she was supposed to trust him in return. It could mean nothing more than Gran had found him conveniently available at the time. It was hard to say.
“I’ve come for my drink.” Indicating his own body with a grubby hand nearly hidden in a gray sweater at least two sizes too big, he added, “I’m a bit beyond due, but you weren’t here yesterday.”
Allie ducked her head back and took another look at him through the glass door. Red hair, gray sweater, brown cords with cord worn off in places, work boots with the steel cap showing through the torn leather on one toe. Bit of ginger stubble along a narrow jaw. Purple/gray half circles under worried eyes. Still translucent. “You’d better come inside.” Whatever Gran was up to, explanations out on the sidewalk were a bad idea.
Joe appeared solid inside the store and, once over the threshold, a lot less skittish. Given the possible claw marks gouged into the outside of the door, maybe that wasn’t so surprising. “Your grandmother said you’d be taking over her stuff.”
Allie spent a moment not thinking about the toys in the bedside table. “That’s right.”
Thin shoulders rose and fell. “I need my drink, then.”
That was the second time he’d mentioned a drink. It wasn’t completely out of the question that Gran had been running some kind of weird after-hours club. Where weird meant translucent clientele. And after-hours meant eight in the morning.
“Let’s pretend that Gran left me no information about her stuff. Which should be easy because it’s true.” Reaching past him, she relocked the door. “You’re going to have to tell me everything.”
Ginger brows drew in. “Everything?”
“Everything. Let’s start with who you are, what this drink is, and, when it comes to it, where I can find it.”
“It’s in…”
She raised a hand and cut him off like he was one of her younger cousins. “It hasn’t come to it. First, tell me who you are.”
“You know my name.”
Allie sighed. As names went, Joe O’Hallan wasn’t very descriptive. “You want to expand on that a bit?”
Joe stared at her for a long moment and then he sighed. “Look, you don’t…”
“Yes, I do.”
“Fine.” His chin rose. “I’m a leprechaun.”
“A leprechaun?” She hadn’t expected that; given how many Newfoundlanders were working the Alberta oilfields, she’d assumed his accent was east coast. “Aren’t you a little tall for a leprechaun?” He wasn’t that much shorter than she was. Five-six. Five-five maybe. And scowling.
“Am I? Faith and begorrah, sure, and no one’s ever pointed that out before!”
Allie blinked at him. “Bitter much?”
“You started it with the cultural stereotypes.” His hands disappeared inside his ragged cuffs as he folded his arms over his chest. “I’m a changeling, okay? I was raised as human, but the babe I got changed for has died.”
“Of what?”
“What difference does it make?” Joe rolled his eyes—inhumanly green now she knew what to look for—at her expression. “Fine. Whatever. Probably old age. Point is, without it there, I’ve no counterbalance to keep me here, so I fade as I’m Called back under the hill.”
Under the hill was the mythic reference to the UnderRealm. It was strange to hear one of the Fey use the Human term.
“Your grandmother made a drink that unfades me,” he added.
He seemed to be waiting for a response. “She did?”
“Why the hell would I lie about something like that, then?”
Good point.
“Don’t you want to go home?” She could feel the ache of her own home pulling at her.
He snorted. “Not even. The food’s crap and the music sucks. Oh, and let’s not forget…” He scowled. “… my loving family traded me off for a human when I was a babe. And it’s not like they even want me, do they? The Court just hates the thought of a pureblood not under their control. They can Call until Finnbhennach comes home.”
“Who?”
“White bull of Connacht. Far as I’m concerned, I am home. Your grandmother keeps the drinks in the locked cabinet behind the counter.”
He seemed pretty sure she was going to give it to him.
“I can pay for it,” he growled as she hesitated. “It’s not charity.” One grubby hand indicated the shelves of junk. “It’s part of the business.”
“Of course it is,” Allie muttered, searching the ring for the right key. Trust Gran not to mention which community her business had become crucial to.
There were three shelves inside the cabinet crammed with bottles and jars that looked like they’d originally held condiments. All of the aunties had similar cabinets although, back home, they were never locked. The aunties liked to weed out those members of the family they considered too stupid to breed.
Probably why they never labeled anything either.
“Do you know…?”
He frowned and leaned over the counter. “I think it’s… uh… no. That one.”
“This one.”
His pointing finger didn’t move. “No, that one.”
“This one?” When he nodded, she lifted what looked like a ketchup bottle carefully from the shelf. “You sure?”
“Mostly. It’s the right color.”
It was the only liquid that virulent a shade of orange. When she passed it over, Joe cradled it for a moment between both hands before unscrewing the lid and draining the bottle. He didn’t look any solider but he felt more… there. Slipping a thin hand in past the worn edges of his pants pocket, he pulled out a lump of…
“Fairy gold.”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“Well, it’s fairy gold,” Allie repeated, wondering if he was trying this out on her because she was new. He could move about under his own power, so he hadn’t tried it on Gran. “When the sun touches it, it’ll turn to earth. Or leaves. Or dog shit.”
“You think I’m after cheating you?”
Allie gestured at the fairy gold on his palm, letting it speak for itself.
“You think I’m after cheating Catherine Gale’s granddaughter? Obviously, you think I’m a complete idiot.” He slapped the pale yellow lump down on the counter and glared at her. “I like my balls right where they are, thank you very much. Just put the gold in the cashbox like always.”
“And?”
He blinked. “And? And after twenty-four hours it’s coin of the realm. Well, paper money of the realm anyway.” Another blink wiped the remaining anger away as realization began to dawn. “She really didn’t tell you anything?”
“She really didn’t.” Allie pulled the cashbox out from under the counter, stared into it, and rolled the fairy gold between her fingers. “So, about my grandmother…” When she looked up, he’d started to fidget. “Do you know where she’s gone?”
“Hard to say.” His smile wouldn’t have fooled a three year old. “Heaven wouldn’t want her and Hell couldn’t hold her.”
True enough as far as it went.
“So you believe she’s dead?”
Except for his eyes, he went completely still. His gaze flicked first left then right as though he was afraid there might be eavesdroppers in the shadows. “I believe what she wants me to believe.”