Chapter 12

Mindy had a phone number. Evidently, Dad had given it to her in case of emergency. I figured this qualified. I did a reverse trace and found an address.

The roads of downtown LA are a bizarre mash-up of good times gone by and really good times gone by. Homeless crackheads camp out beneath the art deco marquees of some of the most beautiful theaters ever to be abandoned. Sure, much of the space had been converted to lofts and fancy living, but the folks in those homes lived like robber barons under siege, locked behind iron worked gates and security codes. They were posh overlords with a panoramic view of skid row from every floor-to-ceiling window.

I don’t know if the darkening light was from the shadows of the high rises or something more sinister, but when we turned off Maple into the Toy District, a rundown block of wholesale electronics and piñatas, my Creeped-Out-O-Meter was in the red zone.

I pulled the car over and parked, inserted something crazy like seven dollars worth of quarters into the meter for a measly hour, and we walked down the alley.

There were twinkle lights and faint guitar music drifting down the way. We stopped in front of a small café whose sign read, “El Diablo.”

I looked over at Killian, “Can you think of any scenario in which this ends well?”

“No.”

I sighed, “Let’s go.”

We climbed the stairs and entered the shop. It was huge inside with voodoo masks hanging on turquoise walls. A tattooed man tended the coffee bar while a guy with a scraggly beard strummed the song we had been hearing.

“Other Siders out back,” said the inked dude.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“You heard me. No elves in the front.”

Killian and I looked at each other and then walked into the back room. It was a covered patio with tables and heat lamps. An empty bar sat to the side beneath the metal roofing. The tables and chairs were mismatched wood. They all looked like they had been there for a long time.

Sitting at one of the tables was a fat man in a shiny grey suit smoking a cigar. His eyes were locked upon us from the time we walked through the door.

“Guess the ‘no smoking’ ordinance didn’t hit this side of town, huh?” I said.

“Does it bother you, little lady?” the fat man leered.

“I’m good,” I replied.

“What can I do for you?”

“I don’t know. What can you?”

“You have a smart mouth.”

Killian placed his hand on my arm, “We are having trouble getting back home.”

The fat man leaned back in his seat and laughed, “Other Siders in need a portal? Well, even if I could get you one, it will cost you. How much money do you have?”

“Enough.”

“We heard there was a man named Ulrich…” I said. From the look on his face, I immediately realized that I had pretty much sent up a flare signal that we were “not cool”.

“How do you know Ulrich?” the fat man asked sharply.

“He’s a family friend,” I lied.

“He seems to have many family friends.”

I gave a shrug.

“I know him,” said the fat man. “Let me see if he is around.”

He took out his cell phone and typed something quickly before slowly putting it back in his coat pocket.

The door to the kitchen burst open and four dudes the size of rhinoceroses stormed in.

Seriously, I had no beef with the fat man and there was no need to go bringing a gun to a knife fight. But it was his call.

Killian pulled a collapsible staff out of his sleeve. At least I hope it was up his sleeve, because in his outfit, there were very few other places it could have come from. His staff was the kind you could whack people with one moment and flip into nunchuks the next. He seemed to have his two attackers covered, so I figured I’d take the other two.

The fat man just sat there and watched. Asshole.

“Four against two? Come on,” I said.

“I suppose I could make it five, but then it would not be sporting.”

A chair came sailing by my head, missing me by inches and clocking the other bad dude who was trying to sneak up behind me in the face. I followed through with a one-two punch to his jaw and in a matter of seconds he was on the ground with little tweetie birds circling.

“You okay, Killian?”

“Managing fairly well...”

He looked like he might be breaking a sweat, so since I was done with the one guy, I had enough time to strategically land a Doc Marten in a kneecap of another.

The bad guy crumpled with a cry and Killian finished him off with a foot to the nose.

“Maggie!” Killian cried, rolling over my back beer barrel polka style to nail Thing Three, who was coming at me with a sharp pointy object.

“Come on, fat man. We’re not trying to permanently hurt anyone here. It’s just a conversation until someone loses an eye,” I said as I sparred with my attacker, who wasn’t going down as easily as the other guys.

“Perhaps if you talked less, you would not be having your current troubles.”

“Perhaps if you just told us where Ulrich MacKay was, I would buy you a beer and we could call it a day.”

“I am afraid anyone who knows the name of Ulrich is not someone I would be breaking a fast with.”

“Breaking a fast… hold on.” Nobody talks all old skool without a reason. “Are you a fucking elf?”

“It is amazing what modern day plastic surgery on Earth is capable of, is it not? The doctor took just a little off the top,” the fat man said as he showed off his rounded ears.

“Did you notice,” punch “that I,” roundhouse “am working with an elf?” a jab to a left cross .

Total knock out.

Killian sat down to catch his breath as I took on our final opponent.

“You could help,” I said as the guy caught a glancing blow across my chin that could have rung my bell if my dancing skills weren’t so sharp.

“We must win honorably, man-to-man, without stooping to the tactics of our enemy. I am going to procure a water.” He walked through the door and pointed a finger at the fat man. “Anything?”

“I am without need.”

And that fucking fairy walked out to go buy some water from the fucking barista.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Killian was back, “I shall leave yours on the table over here.”

I landed the final earth shattering blow and stepped over the guy’s body to grab the water angrily, “Really?”

Killian placed a calming hand upon my forearm, “Really.” He looked at the fat man, “You have seen that we fought fairly without deceit. The rules of engagement would dictate you owe us each a bounty.”

Point for the elf. I didn’t know there was a random set of secret rules that could win us some favors.

“Indeed. You have bested my champions,” the fat man replied, as the inked dude brought him a dainty cup of tea. Of course he would be a fucking tea drinker.

I wasn’t any good with setting contracts with fairy folk, so I turned to my partner, “Killian, ask him for something.”

Killian pulled out a piece of paper, wrote down my number, and handed it to the fat man, “You are hereby bound to call us immediately with any news of Ulrich MacKay or his whereabouts until the time we deem it fit to cease.”

Killian was good.

The fat man nodded his head in acquiescence, “Ulrich has unbalanced the power here. His trade runs have cut into my territory. I would be pleased to assist in… dissuading him… from his current business plan.”

I pushed Killian out of the way, “The only dissuading is going to be me punching you in the face. Why did you tell your goons to attack us if we’re on the same side?!? Friend of my enemy and all!”

“You did not say that you were friends with my enemy,” the fat guy unhelpfully pointed out.

“I didn’t know that he wasn’t a friend of yours,” I countered.

“Then this was nothing more than an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“Listen,” I said. “My dad used to spend a bunch of time here, jerkface,…”

The fat guy looked at me sharply, “Your father?”

“William MacKay.”

“Why did you not say that you were William MacKay’s daughter?” he said, all tension gushing out of the room like rioters pouring out of a soccer game.

“Maybe because you sicced four guards on us before we had a chance.”

“When the name Ulrich MacKay is mentioned, I have found it is best to make the first move and sort things out later, if there are things to sort out.”

“Well... let’s… sort some things out,” I offered weakly.

“Please, sit,” he said, motioning to some chairs.

Killian and I grabbed our bottles and I flung myself into one like a 13-year old girl about to be told she couldn’t go to the mall. One of the guards started to stir, so I offered him my hand.

“Your boss has a sick sense of humor,” I said, helping him to his feet and brushing the dirt off his tweed suit jacket.

I took a long drag off of my water and then fixed the fat man in my gaze, “Okay. Tell me how you knew my father.”

“Your father aided me by transporting sensitive artifacts to private collectors between worlds. He was an ‘independent contractor’ of sorts.”

“My father was a tracker,” I corrected.

“No,” said the fat man chewing on the soggy end of his cigar, “your father was a smuggler.”

“You’re a liar,” I said.

“Believe or do not believe, it matters not to me. But it is the truth.”

“I was with him on every run for the past ten years,” I said, leaning forward.

“The antiquities were small baubles - trifles, really. They would not have been noticed.”

“Really? And what were these tiny treasures exactly?”

“Vampire relics.”

That, I have to say, knocked me on my ass.

“Vampire relics. My dad worked in vampire relics?”

The fat man’s eyes were beady and glinted with greasy greed, “You would not happen to be here today to follow in your father’s footsteps?”

I gritted my teeth and managed to spit out sweetly, “I’m afraid my current contractual obligations have me all tied up at the moment.”

“Tis a pity,” said the fat man. “Well, if it soothes your delicate sensibilities, your father would not take any of my larger jobs - only the vampire relics. In fact, he was the one that contacted me. A very wealthy private collector had asked him to keep his head up. Anything I was able to get my hands on, he was interested in. Of course you know taking relics to the Other Side weakens the vampires’ strength here on Earth, which was a win for me. Profit and peace, all wrapped up in a tidy bundle tied with a 24 karat string.”

So that’s why the vampires were after me. The pieces were starting to fall into place. It was because of this jerk and a burgeoning bank account that I’m sure was as cushy as he.

“Any idea what you stole that might have gotten them worked up?” I asked icily.

“No idea, but if I hear of anything,” he waved the little piece of paper with my phone number on it, “I shall give you a ring.”

I had had it up to my neckguarded chin, “YOU’RE THE REASON THE ENTIRE VAMPIRE RACE IS TRYING TO KILL ME AND YOU’LL GIVE ME A CALL???”

The fat guy held up his palms in apology, “It is a hazard of my trade. Your father was a valuable asset in my operation, though, and I do not wish for us to part enemies. Your uncle’s name always seemed to come up when… how shall I say… a ‘trade’… had gone sour. I am not the forgiving type and it would please me to be able to assist you in tracking him down... for justice.”

“Well, maybe I’m not the forgiving type either and I don’t want to work with the guy who has brought the whole world crashing around my ears,” I pointed out.

“Quite understandable. But perhaps you will allow me to secure you a brownie from our bakery in apology.”

“Does it have nuts?” I shouted, “Because that’s what you are to think that I can be bought off with chocolaty goodness!”

Killian’s face cringed.

“What?”

“He did not mean that kind of brownie.”

“What???” Then realization dawned and I felt like an ass. “Oh. A brownie.”

“Cleaners. Cooks. Ears to the ground,” said the fat man.

“Oh. That’s different,” I said. “That would be… acceptable. And I will take a regular cake-like brownie, too.”

Killian collapsed his head in his hand.

“I’m hungry.”

And that was that.

I let Killian drive as I nommed the brownie. I also tried not to pay much attention to the merry little, one-foot tall man with pointy shoes buckled into the back middle seat. His hands were folded happily on his belly and he looked like he had never been so content as to sit in the back of a busted Honda Civic.

I couldn’t take it.

“I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Pipistrelle!”

The brownie’s voice sounded like a cartoon character rolling on speed.

“Would you like some of my… chocolate cake square…?”

His eyes lit up like Christmas, “Many thanks!”

He took the half I offered him, which was the size of his head and chewed it slowly, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

I wiped my hands on my jeans.

“So, Killian, let’s review what we learned today. My dad was a vampire relic smuggler. My Uncle Ulrich is currently IN the smuggling business. The vampires want me dead because something was stolen that shouldn’t have been stolen. And we are also responsible for a small man that should probably be buckled into a car seat.”

“It is farther along the path than we were yesterday.”

“I can help!” the brownie in the back piped up. I turned around. He had a big chocolate mustache from one ear to the next.

I pulled out a Kleenex and passed it back, “You’ve got a little something on your cheek.”

Pipistrelle wiped his face and wadded up the tissue, “I could find your Uncle Ulrich for you!”

We were sort of at a dead end, so I gave a shrug, “Sure. You do that.”

The brownie started unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Wait! Pipistrelle, wait! You don’t have to go now.”

He climbed up on the co-pilot console and patted my shoulder, “It is my pleasure.”

His fat little hand moved towards the door handle.

“WAIT! Killian, pull over the car. Pipistrelle, we are stopping the car. Don’t get out until the car… PIPISTRELLE!”

I saw his little body tumble out the side into the gutter. Killian pulled the car to a screeching halt. I hopped out the door to see if the poor little brain injured Pipistrelle was okay only to see him skipping merrily along, dodging sticks and stray leaves.

“Pipistrelle! Are you all right?” I shouted after him.

He gave me a friendly little salute.

“How will we find you?”

“I shall find you!” he squeaked before running into a hedge and was gone.

I climbed back into the car, “And here I was going to get him to do my laundry tonight. Well,” I popped open my glove compartment and pulled out a manila folder. “Guess while he does our reconnaissance work, we could round up the ghoul and keep my cover intact.”

Killian sighed and took the folder from me, knowing he didn’t have much room to maneuver on this matter. He flipped through the sheets in between reading street signs, “A ghoul. How do you propose tracking him when he can take on any shape?”

“Ghouls are going to look for the easiest nosh they can find, which, according to the deeply scientific studies of MacKay and MacKay, usually means a funeral,” I said in my best second grade teacher voice.

Killian looked at me like I was the insensitive clod that I actually was, “We are going to start crashing funerals?”

“Yep.”

Killian looked at the folder, “Maybe we can just stick with tracking down your uncle.”

“It’ll be fun. A little garlic necklace for you. A little magic rod for me.” I looked at him sharply, “Don’t say it.”

He shut his mouth with a snap and a grin.

We sat in the car in silence.

“I have a magic rod.”

“Shut it!”

“I could consider it as payment of the favor you owe me,” he offered.

“Don’t!” I said, holding up my finger in warning.

“Although, you probably would end up owing me at the end. We could keep track.”

“Elf!”

He held up his hands in acquiescence, “There is no need for favors to be an unpleasant experience.”

“Listen, you. You had your chance to name your favor and you chose saving the world instead of saving the world in your pants. Next time, bargain better.”

He gave me a wink, “That I shall, that I shall...”