Page 9

Crispin

C rispin closed his eyes.

There was only so much a self-respecting desk fae could take.

He’d expected—no, he’d deserved—an easy retrieval.

All he needed to do was go to Earth, pick up this one (rather slovenly, if he was forced to admit the truth) lost human, and be back home before the clock struck midnight, inside his cozy tree home with Minkis.

Now he was in a strange and apparently very deadly purple world, facing down a vegan giant who would probably still eat him if he got hungry enough.

He was stuck with antlers and hooves— hooves , for the silver queen’s sake!

—and probably still bleeding from that damned five-footed adorable pleat.

Or whatever the hoary-haired honker himple Fromlith had called it.

Oh and his faithful companion Thea seemed more interested in blaring out what he could only assume was some kind of bizarre mating call than in getting him home.

And now he had to worry about something else ? “What. Is. It?”

Fromlith squinted from under eyebrows that, on their own, would have made quite convincing hedges. “I can’t really tell. It’s dark and twisty, though. And it smells like….” He sniffed the air, his inhalations causing the trees around them to shudder. “Like smoked evil.”

“I had smoked salmon once.” Leo scratched his furry chin. “Never understood what the big deal was.”

Crispin’s eyes flew open. “Would you please, just for one eternal moment, shut your godsdamned trap?”

His hand flew to his mouth as Leo’s eyes went wide and he took a step back, blinking wildly.

“I’m so sorry, Leo—Leopold. I don’t know what came over me.

” If his mother ever heard him speak to someone like that, she’d have his hide.

Even Minkis would be disappointed, in a sagging tail, dull-eyed squirrelly sort of way.

Leo stopped blinking. “It’s all right. I mean… it’s not. But I figure you’re not as used to weird shit as I am.”

Which was, well, patently ridiculous. But Crispin wasn’t in a position to argue just then.

“Maybe… just maybe… we should look at the dark and twisty thing?” Leo jerked his head in the direction that Fromlith had pointed.

Crispin sighed. It seemed as if it was going to be a long while before he got back to the comfort of his OotL desk.

He looked up and frowned.

The dark and twisty thing was extending a tendril toward them.

It was, in fact, a version of the same being that had come after them back in Leo’s apartment, though it seemed to have its smoky teeth sheathed for the moment.

“We should, um, probably go.” He looked back at Fromlith.

“Thank you so much for the tea.” He set down his acorn-cap mug, which stubbornly refused to stand upright on its pointy bottom and spilled medicinal tea all over the cart.

“So… not a friend of yours?” Fromlith picked up the tiny cup like a grain of sand between his large fingers and put it away.

“Definitely not.”

“Well why didn’t you say so?” He opened his mouth wide and bellowed a sound so loud that Crispin was forced to cover his ears with his palms, pressing against them so tightly he feared his head would pop.

Leo did the same, and then vanished from sight.

Crispin blinked and then stared at the place where his collected human had been, but his gaze was pried away by a horrid screeching. It seemed designed to join with the giant’s cascading bellow and to melt Crispin’s brain out of his ears despite the hand covering.

He spun around and watched the black and twisty thing writhe in midair, captured by the giant’s banshee cry.

It began to come apart into squirming threads blacker than midnight, each hissing and wailing like a dying bandersploot before popping out of existence.

Like Leo had just done. And there were the teeth.

They gnashed in his general direction before fading into nothing. How does smoke have teeth?

When the noise stopped—as quickly as it had begun—and the dark and twisty thing had been banished, Leo was there again, solid as a bowl of porridge left in the sink all day, looking at Fromlith in abject admiration. “That was badass.”

It was Crispin’s turn to blink. “Did you… were you…?” He lacked the will to formulate the question he really wanted to ask. Maybe he had hallucinated the disappearance. Zanther knew, he was under enough pressure. “What does ‘ass’ have to do with it?”

“I think he means I kicked its butt.” Fromlith frowned. “Not that it had one. A butt, I mean.”

Crispin sighed. “Yes, I figured that part out.” Had he imagined the whole blinking out of existence thing? Maybe some of his brain had leaked out of his skull. He touched his cheek, just to be sure, but it was dry as a bone.

He shook his head. His mind was already on overload. He didn’t need another mystery. “I suppose we should be going. We can’t find Disappointment without a good walk.”

“That’s for sure. I hate exercise.” Whatever had happened to him, Leo seemed no worse for wear.

“I meant the pond.” Why had he been sent to collect this…

this waste of space for the Office? Where would they even put him?

Maybe this is all a test. Efrim Eflin El’Esprin was due to retire soon.

Maybe this was all an elaborate ruse to see how he handled himself under pressure. Yes, that must be it.

All he had to do was get them to this Pond of Disappointment in one piece, and they would be able to cross over to the Office at last, and everything would go back to normal.

Well, not totally normal. His perfecality score was probably shot for the year. Theodor would likely snag the prize this year, and lord it over him the way only a dwarf could.

Crispin sighed.

“The grass is really good here,” Leo said. “But I wonder if we might have a few more of those… cookie crumbs you brought with the tea?”

Crispin’s stomach rumbled in agreement. “Leopold’s right. We could use a bit more to eat before we rush off into the forest again.” And maybe something to deal with those… what had Fromlith called them? Gleeth? Pleeth?

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, my little friends.” The giant grinned, teeth as big as tombstones, and Crispin shuddered.

He’s going to eat us after all. Crispin closed his eyes, determined to depart this worldly plane with at least a modicum of dignity.

Leo, in a surprising act of bravery, placed himself in front of Crispin. Or maybe he’d just tripped. In any case, he drew himself up to his full height, a good three inches taller than Crispin, and stared down the giant. “You can’t have him. He’s my… my desk fae.”

Crispin blinked, and so did the giant. Why did it sound as though something else had been about to come out of the Earthling’s mouth?

“You thought… I mean… I already said that…” Fromlith grabbed his belly with both hands and began to laugh, a sound so guttural and deep that it shook the leaves off the closest trees.

He slapped his knees, and birds flew out of the forest canopy in alarm, and the sky cleared as the wayward clouds steered out of his way.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.” Leo turned on Crispin. “What’s he laughing about?” His eyes narrowed. “This is all your fault, you know.”

“I’m laughing, dear friends, because you’ve apparently misunderstood me.

I don’t eat things with faces, as delicious as the two of you look.

What I meant is that I couldn’t feed you here, because I intend to accompany you to the Pond of Disappointment, and we could eat on the way.

” He chortled again, seemingly amusing himself.

“A Flokrion always looks after his friends. Especially those he doesn’t eat.

” He nodded and spun around toward his massive cottage.

“Let me just gather a few things and we’ll be on our way. ”

He vanished as nimbly as a thirty-foot-tall creature could into the darkness of his home.

“What was that thing? The cloud thing, with the teeth?” Leo was staring at Crispin as if he would somehow know, his earlier hostility apparently forgotten.

“You were mad at me just two minutes ago?—”

“Sorry about that. My blood sugar’s a bit low. I get a little…” and he wobbled his hand in a way that reminded Crispin of a three-footed sploot.

“Um… splooty?”

Leo’s mouth worked on that a bit, and then he blinked again and nodded. “Sure. Let’s go with that.” His gaze lifted to the tree where the dark and twisty thing had been. “So what was it?”

Crispin scratched his head. “I have no idea. It looks a bit like the things that chased us out of your….” He’d been about to say “garbage pit,” but that didn’t sound politic.

“Um… your flat. But what they are, where they came from, or what they want”— could an ethereal being truly want anything? —“I haven’t a clue.”

For all this trouble, he was going to ask for a raise when he got back home. And an extra week off. And maybe a pony. He’d always wanted a pony, and he figured they’d owe him if he got this one back safely. “Thea?”

His hopes that she’d maybe found her way back to sanity were dashed when she hiccuped and then belched something green that might have been spores from the invading purple moss.

He forged ahead anyway. “Any idea what that weird dark thing was?”

Her response was to play something that sounded halfway between fingernails on a chalkboard and a dwarf with a head cold. Crispin sighed and started to put the device away.

“Wait. I know this one.” Leo mouthed the lyrics. “It’s Marilyn Manson.”

“Well, she has a perfectly lovely voice.” Crispin rolled his eyes.

Leo waved that assessment aside. “It’s called ‘We Are Chaos.’” His eyes met Crispin’s and for the first time there seemed to be a bit of light in them. “Maybe Thea’s trying to tell us something?”

Crispin frowned. Thea was broken all to bits, just like his schedule. “I don’t think so. I’ll have to get a new PTD when we get back.” If we get back.

“I still think she might be?—”

“Here we are.” Fromlith appeared from his castle-sized cottage with a couple human/fae sized packs. “This should fill your stomachs.”

Crispin took his. It had two straps, presumably for putting over one’s shoulders.

“Where did they come….” It crossed his mind that the previous owners of the packs had likely become soup, or maybe a delicious spot of tea, so he decided he didn’t need to know.

“Thank you, Master Fromlith.” His mother would have been proud of his diplomatic skills.

“You’re welcome, Master Moss’caladin.”

Crispin opened the sack, took out a giant cookie crumb as large as his fist, and then settled the straps of the pack over his shoulders.

Leo rolled his eyes but did the same.

“Say,” Fromlith said, “your mother doesn’t happen to be Cerillia Ailedrin Moss’caladin, by any chance?”

Was it his imagination, or did the giant shudder a bit when he spoke her name? “Why yes, she is.” Apparently Crispin wasn’t the only one in whom the Mother of Fae inspired fear.

“Ah, very good then.” Fromlith clasped his hands and looked down at the ground, over his shoulder, up at the sky—basically anywhere but at him.

“Fromlith.”

“Yes, Master Moss’caladin.” Still no eye contact.

“You’re not looking at me.”

“No, sir, I am not.”

“Why not?” Was the giant… afraid of him?

“Because your mother has let it be known, far and wide, that no one is to harm a hair on the head of her last-born son. Which is, apparently, you.”

Crispin growled. “Why that two-faced, not nice, mother freaking woman.”

“Who taught you to swear?” This time there was a definite twinkle in Leo’s eyes.

“My mother. Who, apparently, doesn’t trust me to take care of myself.” No wonder his job had been so easy. The Mother of Freaking Fae had laid down the law. Does she think so little of me?

There would be a reckoning when he got home. He promised himself that much. “Fromlith,” he said softly.

“Yes, Master Moss?—”

“Just Crispin, please, with my friends.” That surprised him. Had he started to think of this possibly fae-eating giant as a friend? “Let’s agree that you’ve done your bit by not eating me, and move on from there, shall we?”

That wide half-a-cemetery grin split the giant’s face again. “Very good, little sir.” He knelt and held out his hands. “Might I give you a ride to the pond? It’s much faster than if you two walk your tiny people steps.”

Crispin shot Leo a look, and Leo nodded.

As the giant lifted them onto his wide shoulders, Thea again broke into song.

Leo grinned. “The Proclaimers. Your little friend there has some dope taste in music.”

Crispin frowned. How long would it take, exactly, to walk a thousand miles?

“Grab onto the ears, my friends. This is gonna be a bumpy ride.”