• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

I spat for real this time.Not a lot but enough. Enough to keep the bad cess on her and off me.

She never noticed, having eyes only for the three on stage, especially the short blond guitarist with his long hair pulled back in a rat’s tail.

“My mistake,” I said, my voice hoarse with smoke and aggravation and the difficulty of uttering those two particular words. Sheath ing my knife, I added, “Apparently, the Washer sees something in these noise-makers that I do not.”

My companion, though still white with past rage, now seemed willing to forget about my violence to his person for the good of the negotiations. His eyes glowed once again, but a mellower gold.

“I have heard them before,” he said,meaning the band, their banner proclaiming them to be the Tim Malloys, a name that meant nothing to me. “Too loud, but they have talent. And they are good Republicans all. Supporters of the cause.” His eyes held a hint of green.

So he was a true believer then, a member of the black-or-white club, the all-or-nothing brigade, the my-side-ever-and-fuck-yours-to-Hell crew.Why any of us should care so deeply about mortal politics was beyond me. But I knew—for my masters had told me when I asked—that there was precedent for this.Why, the Sidhe had played a part in human warfare since the Battle of Clontarf near Dublin in 1014. No time at all in faerie terms, but centuries to the humans.

The Tim Malloys finished their Scottish song with an unbelievably cacophonous final chord, and the crowd squealed with glee.

“Happy Beltane all you pagan bastards!” shouted the big rhythm guitarist.

Is it really Beltane? I thought in surprise. I was not a great one for keeping time and hadn’t realized it was May Eve. Why would my superiors send me to negotiate on the eve of one of the three great festivals, when traditionally we of the daoine maithe would be fighting in great mobs, though all the humans would see was a great whirlwind lifting the thatch off a roof? Something was not right.

I threw an ingratiating smile my companion’s way. There would be time to pay him back for his insult later. But at the moment, I needed to think. “The squall crow does not see us. Let us keep it that way.” Then I realized I’d left my Guinness, half-gone and presumably flat by then, in the basement. “We need a drink.”

He nodded, and we left the band room and moved toward the bar.

As I ordered two Guinnesses—my companion being once more cloaked and unable to order for himself—I observed three young men saunter through the front door and head for the dance floor. Their heads were shaved, and their bodies were covered with ancient marks I am sure they knew not the meaning of. They wore black tee shirts with death’s-heads and crosses on them and they moved as if they expected people to get out of their way. My companion stared daggers at their backs.

More true believers, I thought. But not of the same faith as my companion. Or the band. Or most of the bar comrades. Orangemen at a guess. Or if not orange, at least not of the green, the green of patriots, the green of the Sidhe.

A plan began forming in my mind as the skinheads marched into the band room. Not a plan my masters had ever thought of. Or maybe they had. They had sent me on May Eve, after all, and told me to move with the moment. That moment, I sensed, was upon me. But for what I had in mind I would need more power. A lot more power.

I gave a concealed wave of my hand, unseen by any eyes, mortal or Sidhe. This opening was a very small spell, just a nudge really. Merely pushing the head-shavers to do what was natural. Natural—and ugly. But when the real casting came, I would be well gone from here. Necessary, of course. I had to be gone before the Powers were alerted to my presence.

“Are you eyeballing me?” It was a loud and surprisingly tenor voice from the next room. One of the shaved-heads I presumed.

I waved my hand again, and this time I heard the sound of glass breaking next door.

That, I thought, should be enough to get things started.

I was surprised to find