Here the heroes begin to try and figure out how best to dispose of the new acquisition.

“These are reports and notes of your case with the Nephilim. In truth, this was also a large part of why I desired employment with you. To survive such a creature is amazing by itself. To actually defeat one is nearly unprecedented. It is part of why most Elves know of you, and why some such as …” she thought for a moment “… Cobb tried to use and destroy you. You are a threat to their hopes of isolating humanity from the fae.”

“Why do these Elves want to isolate humanity?” I had an idea why, we’re crazy violent. That’d probably be enough to give any group second thoughts about contacting the insane bald apes. “Your philosophy. We have a consistent philosophy that gives us stability. Humans have many philosophies. So many that to Elves, it seems that they are made for convenience sake instead of as a process of thought that leads to society structure. Humans are frightening and incomprehensible. Each human is flexible in terms of social structure and philosophy. To many in Elvish culture you as a race are insane.”

I had to think that through for a bit before I understood it. It hurt to hear things put bluntly, but blunt makes certain there is no misunderstanding. I was definitely more interested in talking about that than I was about the bottle. Sinera didn’t move the overturned coffee cup on top of it. I think she had the same gut-level revulsion of the thing I did. Another thought occurred to me.

“Sinera, what is the Elvish attitude towards something like a Nephilim?” Yeah, ask questions and that way I don’t have to start looking into finding the bloody soul-sucking bottles.

“A Nephilim is a fearsome entity. It always hungers and hates. A Nephilim is a danger to existence.” She grimaced like something bitter was caught in her throat. “Such a thing is best avoided if at all possible. You humans tend to rush toward an enemy rather than wisely fleeing. Dying does not always save the person whom was sacrificed for. It only results in more deaths than the one.”

“I suppose. What would your suggestion be for locating the bottles?” I hoped she didn’t have any so I would get more time behind the desk rather than looking for trouble.

“I would not use Magick. Not unless you wish to lose part of yourself to a bottle. In truth, we must wait until there is more evidence to collate with the Nephilim case.” I hated my reaction to her statement. I was all for staying in and away from Nephilim and bottles. But I kept seeing friends and co-workers dead because of those things. I’m not sure when my attitude went from ‘case’ to ‘personal vendetta’, but somewhere along the way it did. And like an idiot swashbukling noir-style gumshoe, I was going to go attempt to brace a lion in its den, just because it had to be done.

I hate ‘it had to be done’. It’s way too altruistic and nothing good comes from a selfless act. There are too many people that see selfless as self-serving. People perform selfless acts all the time, diving into the water to rescue a child or a pet, jumping a robber in a store, volunteering to help get food to homeless or shut-ins. In a lot of rescue cases someone gets hurt or killed because they’re not good enough to finish what they started. Sinera had the right of it there. If you’re going to do something dangerous and chancy, you need to be able to finish successfully.

I rubbed the nub of my finger again. It ached, whether from proximity to that bottle or my own tension I don’t know. I took a breath, then a second and reached over to pick the cup up. The bottle was still there, stopper in place. Sinera had taken a step back toward the door to the outer office.

I forced my hand to the bottle and picked it up, then opened the bottom drawer of the desk. I pulled out the empty whiskey bottle (I kept it there to remind me how easy it is to be self-destructive and not be so) opened it and dropped the bottle inside. It barely fit through the mouth. I capped the bottle and placed it back into the bottom drawer and slid it closed. Sinera tapped her cheek with a perfectly manicured nail.

“Glass is a good choice. It can accept Magick and obscure the thing from any searchers.”

Freaking elves. I pulled the drawer back open then picked the bottle up. I focused, imagining layers of Magick coating the whiskey bottle and trapping the Magickal traces that seeped through the glass. A second layer to do the same again, and a third to hide the traces of the first two. Dragon Magick is so convenient.

“It is disconcerting when you do that, Fern. Your Magick smells like a Dragon when cast. Anything sensitive knows a powerful caster is nearby. If you were being searched for your Magick would be a beacon of light in the dark night of the new moon.” Sinera had a rather intricate way of saying ‘Your Magick stinks and anyone can find you when you use it.’ I wondered if the smell as she called it was affected by wind and/or weather.

“At least whoever’s looking for the bottle won’t be able to find it.”

“Not Magickally, however, you are the one who defeated a Nephilim. Nearly all fae know of you by reputation. Where else would a Judge go to leave a dangerous item?” She made it sound so logical. I knew there were gaps in the process of ‘bottle’ to ‘Fern’, but she was right. If I did have a reputation as wide-ranging as she hinted at, I would be the logical place to look first. Which meant there had to be a better place to hide the bottle. Fawn. They had an evidence locker that it could be hidden away in. But Fawn is my sister, and who would I go to if I wanted to hide something like a soul-sucking bottle? KISS…keep it simple, stupid.

I left the bottle in the bottle at the bottom of the desk. Out of sight out of mind and at least for now out of my hair. I really like the idea of destroying it, but I would need something like Rynun’s blade to do it. That’s what I needed last time. And Rynun was at the lake Mom and Dad’s cabin was…I could give it to Rynun! That was simple. All thoughts of leaving it in the desk flew away and I grabbed the bottle then checked my pockets for keys. Sinera concentrated and was suddenly in camo pants with a blue and black checked shirt with a longbow and a large knife. On her back was a quiver with about twenty arrows. She then broke the bow down and stuffed it in the quiver and zipped up the cover, hiding both bow and arrows inside the camouflaged tube. The knife was in the open with a thread tied around it, a ‘peace tie’ Elves used when visiting the human world. It kept potentially lethal mistakes to a minimum.

“Where are we driving?”

“We’re going to see an old friend who might be able to break this thing.”

“You mean the native spirit. Rynun, correct?”

“Yes, him. His knife shattered the original bottle. He might be able to destroy this one also.”

“It is a welcome idea. I would prefer it destroyed.” We agreed on that completely. I never wanted another one this close to me again, ever. My skin crawled slightly as the bottle in the whiskey bottle clinked brightly against the glass surrounding it. I grabbed my trench coat that I hardly ever used and put the bottle in an inside pocket. I had Sinera drive us out there, and it was only mildly adventurous. She never drove off the road, and she had a valid license though I wondered if the officer just gave her the license so he didn’t have to sit next to her while she drove. The car moved constantly, at time rocking on the suspension as she put it through a particularly quick shift of direction. I was happy when the turnoff to the cabin appeared ahead of us.

The trees and the land here had been blasted by the Nephilim. Somehow it had killed the forest by drining the life out of the wood, and the animals in the area. Now, most of the dead trees had fallen and a rich moss grew prolifically on them. Small pines, about three meters tall, were rapidly growing to fill in for the dead wood. Insects buzzed and butterflies floated on the breeze. The gravel road widened as it emptied into a clearing. To our left was the cabin. Fawn and I had started coming out here again just after Zhira was born.

The wooden walls had been cleaned and re-painted. The old car that sat next to the cabin didn’t pulse with spiritual malevolence, but was just a normal vehicle. It didn’t run. Dad had pulled the engine long ago and had used the shell of the car to hide the emergency generator from thieves. It must have worked because it was still hidden in the cut out trunk. Mom had made the hood into an impromptu flower garden and Fawn and I had replaced the missing wood she used. The small box garden was in place and this year Fawn was making plans to turn it into a butterfly lure for Zhira. It had been a lot of work, but the results were well worth it. Ahiah was gone, as was nearly all of the damage that the Nephilim had caused.

The only reminders were three bare spots on the ground in the small clearing behind the house and down the hill by the lake. No grass grew on them. Two of the spots were where our parents had spent years trapped by a spell gone wrong, and the third was where the bottle had shattered and Ahiah was drawn into the ground. The spots soured my mood, but that changed when Rynun walked out of the woods to us. Sinera bowed deeply to the little brown man, and I kneeled and gave him a heartfelt hug. He returned it and smiled broadly.

“Fern, you’re the picture of health. But you didn’t come here for me to tell you how healthy you are. What reason do you visit an old brown man?” He looked like what he said. Old, brown wrinkled skin that was almost bark-like in its appearance with deep furrows and folds. His eyes were a crystalline grey with a shoulder-length shock of pale hair with a slight brownish tint. In height he barely came to mid-thigh, making him an average six to eight year old in height. His features were a little bulbous like a caricature of a human face. His smile though was pure joy and peace. Kind of like a favorite grandfather, getting along in years but still very spry. It made me feel guilty for not coming by sooner or more often.

“I have something bad I want to destroy. You’re the one person I could think of with experience.” His eyebrows raised, then shot up like they were trying to fly off his head.

“Spirits no! Fern, you’ve found another!?” He looked stricken, and badly in want of a drink.

There was no help for it. I pulled the whiskey bottle out with the little blue metallic glass bottle inside. He slid backwards, legs sinking into the soft earth to his knees.

“An Elf left it on my desk. He said there were three others most likely in Halifax. I haven’t heard of any demons, and you’re still out here rather than in town, so nothing’s come to get, um, you know, Ahi..” I shut up when he started waving his hands wildly. He turned to gaze at Sinera, who responded with a deep bow from the waist arms outspread as if to welcome all to her. The two finished their extremely formal bow, then Rynun turned back to me again.

“You’ve come up in the eyes of many, Fernie. An Elf actually working with you. Interesting times indeed.” I rolled my eyes.

“Did that just come to you or have you been saving that cliché for just the right moment?”

His laugh was the hearty donkey-like bray I remembered. “Too true Fernie! I can’t put ont over on you, can I? The world changes every day, sometimes more than others.” He gave me another bright smile and started to sink into the ground. I stepped quickly forward before he could disappear and lay my left hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, Rynun. Can you destroy this bottle?” I still had it in my right hand. He looked back at the bottle-in-bottle, and shrugged.

“Fernie, you and your sister don’t need me. I’m an old man with a few tricks. Wars are for the young to fight.” He disappeared into the earth which closed up behind him like nothing had happened. I got two things from that discussion. One, maybe Fawn and I together could wreck the bottle. Two, something big was coming, and we were going to be in the middle of it. Yeah, they were pretty unsubtle hints. But then, I’m an unsubtle girl and not always very swift on the uptake, and I’d had enough of cryptic meanings to last me a lifetime without more being added to the list. Sinera walked to stand beside me.

“So, I take it we’re going to have to find our own way to dispose of it.” That summed things up nicely. I just wish I knew more about what Rynun was talking about. Too much hidden meaning and I didn’t really think I had time to figure out who, what, where, how, and why. Actually, I had part of who; me and Fawn. And I had a big what; war. I don’t know what kind of war, or who is going to be involved on both sides. And I still had the gods cursed bottle.

I shoved it back in my inside pocket with more force than I probably needed. The faint ripping sound as the pocket tore seemed to be just the icing on the cake for the day. I took the keys from Sinera and drove back to my office, and spent the time yelling at the other drivers. It wasn’t proper but it was cathartic.

WE get deeper into the situation.

CHAPTER 3

After Judge Caddus left, and thoughtfully left the bottle under my coffee cup, I called Sinera in to ask her take on the conversation.

“He is truly disturbed by finding the item. It is not his only concern however. I do not have a notion of what his other concern might be. He is very careful with speech and mannerisms.”

“So asking him directly is not going to be an option.”

Sinera shrugged, then sat down in the guest chair. “I do not believe so. If he would have given an indication of concern, I am certain that it would have been obvious enough for a human to recognize.” Ouch, burn. She was correct though. Elves are raised on politics, which means being able to read small tells better than a professional gambler. Humans are just not as in tune with each other as Elves are.

“Okay, then let’s find out if there is anyone who has collapsed recently and acting like a vegetable.” It’s what the bottle does to people. I hate the idea of looking for victims, but right now it’s the only idea I had.

“Are there any patterns that the previous perpetrator used? If those using the bottles are after similar things, what the original was targeting, these new users may target also.”

I went over to the files and made of show of looking through them, but I had intimate knowledge of Hervald’s habits. He wanted attractive women, and had frequented singles bars for them. I don’t think that someone would do the same thing. But it didn’t hurt to check out. Singles bars are good places to make contacts. Hervald went for the high-end places. Not the best place to hunt targets. Missing debutantes tend to stand out. Homeless don’t.

“Sinera, can you check with the police if there’s a sudden rash of disappearances of homeless people in any one area? They seem like a natural target if someone wants to hide what they’re doing.”

Sinera nodded. “I can do the search. Would you prefer immediately, or Monday morning?”

“Immediately. We’re on the clock. We can charge…” I smacked my head. He left before I could bring up price. Note again, listen for what Elves DON”T say. Not only had he hooked me with the bottle, he’s getting my efforts for free. I wanted to pull my hair for falling for such a trick. Sinera looked at me with an enigmatic smile that perhaps I was actually learning something. Freaking Elves.

I pulled out the old file on Hervald Thensome and walked with it in hand back to my desk and read the notes I made. The first one “This sucks!” was how I felt right now. Score one for old notes. I’d ran into Hervald the third bar I had spent an hour at. He invited me up to an apartment, then tried suck my sould out with the bottle. He ended up getting himself when I tripped him trying to escape. The question now would be Fawn. She deserved to know. As a cop, she had resources I couldn’t touch, and I had contacts that she could never talk to. It was a good balance when we weren’t on opposite sides of the law.

I sat down and grabbed the old candlestick phone and dialed her number. Each rotation of the dial was pure enjoyment. How many people do you know that can still use a rotary phone? It’s fun compared to the push button or touchscreen. Slower definitely, but fun. The desk sergeant, Richie Pomeroy, picked up on the third ring.

“Hauser House, Pomeroy speaking, how may I help you?”

“Hi Richie. Fawn in?”

The line was quiet for a few moments then Richie said with exaggerated politeness, “She’s still out at the scene. I’ll pass on the request.”

Richie didn’t like me much, and the feeling was mutual. I didn’t like him in high school when his idea of paying attention to me was as a way to hang with Fawn. We both ran him off when we got wise to what he was doing. After that things happened to my locker and any stuff I didn’t keep an eye on. The culmination was the self-defense classes. His dad ran the class and he and I were called up to demonstrate a few self-defense moves against a surprise attacker. I threw Richie down harder than I needed to once. He retaliated with a full football tackle which knocked the wind out of me. When I got my wind back, I went after him. His dad and Fawn had to break us apart.

He mellowed and turned into a good cop, but he still held a grudge, and I wouldn’t let go of mine either. We were unfailingly polite, but that was it. Strange how that works. Maybe the Elves weren’t so different after all. And maybe I’m a six foot Amazon.

After the call, I doodled random notes to see if any inspiration would hit and I’d have a way to start this investigation. Sinera would take likely most of the day remaining talking to the various Houses to see what, if anything unusual had happened in their territory. I started to get up and check on Sinera and get a few numbers to call and give me something to do instead of brooding.

“Fatelli Investigations.”

“Shortstuff, we need to talk. I have something creepy as hell and want your take on it.”

“Some victim a vegetable and glassy eyed like three years ago?”

She sputtered on the other end of the phone and I would have grinned at surprising her but the upside down cup on my desk with one of the four missing Glass Bottles under it sobered me up real quick.

“I got a visit from Judge Caddus from the Elven enclave. He convinced me that we have a real problem. So yeah, I wanted to talk to you. Richie Pomeroy has a message from me to call since you weren’t at your desk.” I took the next few minutes describing our chat and what the Judge had left on my desk. Fawn remained quiet through the whole talk, but I could feel her anger building. Some deranged THING brought those back to Dayning. She did not want to wait for the body count to rise.

“Do you think that demon’s back too?” Fawn. Direct and to the point. Forget the bottles and focus on the bottle user. That’s the best way to shut trouble down.

“No idea right now. I’m hoping he’s gone and not coming back. Once was more than painful enough for me.” I rubbed the nub of my little finger again. It had started throbbing when I saw that bottle again. Fawn gave me a complete run-down on the victim. Young, blonde, pretty, and missing from work after not calling in sick yesterday. This was almost identical to Hervald’s victims. I really REALLY didn’t want it to be Hervald again.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Fawn sounded sad and angry at the same time. “Yes, she’s gone, if it really is that bottle again.” She paused for a moment. “Come by the station, you’re going to be a professional consultant to our house. You’ll get full pay and full access to our database and whatever we get from overseas or the ‘states.”

“Do you think it’s world-wide? We’re just Halifax, not the capital.” I hadn’t even thought of the possibility beyond our little city on the island. Halifax wasn’t always little. Over one hundred fifty years ago it was the largest staging area for ships bound to Europe that existed. World War 2 as it was called demanded equipment, food, and troops to fight off a merciless regime. Halifax had hundreds of ships if not thousands, pass through her port back then. Now, we were still a shipping port, but just one of many. The real large ones were south and west, where the majority of Canada’s population still resided. Montreal and Quebec City were the real shipping magnets. Boston and New York are the largest ports near by in the USA.

“No, it’s here with us. Part of me wants to know why us, why here, why now. Just, why. It may be we’re just seeing a tree and missing the forest. But there’s not been anything from the USA or Europe that says there were any weirdness like here.”

“Did what we ran into get all that much publicity?” I should have thought of that question ages ago. I remember being written up and what had occurred did reach the papers and the ‘net. It died fast though, more lurid stories pushed The bottle story out of the news in a few days. That’s what I remembered at least.

“I don’t remember too much. I know the station was up in arms with the same guy disappearing from cells without any understanding why. And when we got him, he was clinically dead. The coroner nearly blew a gasket when he got ready to autopsy Hervald. He disappeared right out of the cooler, and no one was in the place except the coroner and he never left it. There are still stories floating around about it at the house.”

So maybe not so much publicity, but enough weird to make those around the case remember very well according to Fawn.

“Getting back to the offer, I think it’s a good idea. I can watch your back and vice-versa. It was our folks that made the trouble, and what do you want to bet it’ll come looking for us because of that?”

“Shortstuff, that is paranoia talking, and yes I just happen to agree. I’ve seen plenty of weirdness and more than a few times it came back around to its origins. We can’t rule out a link. I hate thinking about it, but we, and especially you, have seen what happens. There’s no such thing as coincidence, it’s all Magick and weirdness.”

I couldn’t argue. I’m sure Sinera was listening to the conversation. She told me once that her hearing could hear a fly’s buzz on the far window in my office from the hallway. That’s way beyond what a human could ever hope to do. Magick could augment hearing so humans could, but Magick is always of the ‘direct’ approach if no detail is added. So, hearing would be boosted to hear the fly, and every other sound would be too. I wouldn’t want to experience having everything dialed to twenty on a ten point scale. That’d be a good way to liquefy your brains. How Sinera handles it is beyond me. I put the receiver back on its hook and set the telephone back on the desk. Sinera came in with some papers in hand. She placed them on my desk next to the candlestick telephone.

“What is this?” I was hoping she’d give me a clue what the papers were about. I was certain it had to do with our conversation as Sinera tends to listen and anticipate what I might ask for. She’s not perfect at it, but she is a lot better than I ever could be.

This is going to be longer as I’ve missed some days adding in here.  I have been surprised by all the recapping going on and wonder why in this book I have so much compared to the others.  Perhaps it’s because I saw this as the last, but now am not sure if it will be.  Regardless, here’s part 3.

CHAPTER 2

Larry waved us over to their pine picnic table. He had thoughtfully set out corn on the cob, American style french fries, water, and a salad bowl for a snack. He and Fawn had learned how much work went into marriage, and that no one family ever had it like the fairy tales. They had more good days than bad now, and Zhira was one reason why. I’d just sat down to grab an ear of corn, when my cellphone buzzed. An instant later, a shrill ringing came from an open window in their house.

Fawn grumbled and stalked toward the back screen door while I stayed outside with my cellphone so I could have a bit more peace and quiet since Larry and Zhira had followed her inside. Sinera, my secretary, didn’t waste any time with greetings.

“Fern, you have a potential client waiting for you here. What time shall I tell them you’ll be into the office?” I blinked.

“Umm, today’s Sunday. I’ll be in the office tomorrow morning.” I held the cellphone in front of me and checked the date. It agreed with me that it indeed was Sunday, and that at twenty-one Celsius, with clear skies, a hint of a north wind, and no threat of rain, it was a good day to be outside.

“I was contacted directly, and informed I must call you. I do not believe this is one client who will appreciate sitting in your office until tomorrow morning.”

The identity of the client was not my first thought. My first thought was how did she contact Sinera directly? Sinera’s an elf. She doesn’t have an official number. All of my calls get routed to an answering service when no one’s in the office, which is how weekends are, or are supposed to be. The immediate thought was that she’d been contacted magickally. If that was the case, it was someone we already knew because they knew of Sinera. Thinking about it, beyond my previous clients, who mostly preferred Magick stay away from them, had no idea how to get hold of Sinera. All I remember them using was the advertised phone number. That this person knew about Sinera well enough to contact her directly meant it was someone who knew her. That meant Elves. My client had to be an Elf. I have an aversion bordering on an allergy to Elves. Sinera is the notable exception. Elves live in Underhill. They do come to our world and trade goods, a number of them Magickal, that they sell, or trade for something they consider of value. Your guess is as good as mine what each one wants.

Elves are scrupulously truthful, but that does not mean they’re honest. An Elf will always look for the best way to present the truth and in such a manner so you want to believe it. They tell you what you want to hear using the truth as the lever and it’s a bit like the old joke about ‘proper diplomacy’ which is telling someone to go to hell in such a manner they look forward to the trip.

The most classic example of Elves I can think of is trading something for a service. That the service could span generations of humans doesn’t make the service any less legitimate, and it’s not slavery. It’s payment for a good or a service. Yes, it’s indentured servitude, but not slavery. Slavery is forcing servitude on another, indenturment is someone agreeing to it.

“Should I be concerned that we might be dealing with a fae?”

“I would say yes to the might.”

I stayed quiet for a few moments, thinking. Sinera politely gave me time to gather my thoughts.

“Is it someone that you and I are familiar with?”

“Yes, you have had some unfortunate dealings in a legal decision some time ago.”

Legal decision. Only one person fit that description. Judge Caddus. He was forced to declare me beholden to the Elf Lord Cobb when I falsely accused him of deliberately bespelling me. His daughter did it, but the hard fact was he wasn’t the caster. No one except Cobb was happy with that, especially the Judge.

“Has he indicated what the reason for this emergency?”

“He has said he will only speak with you face to face, in your office.”

So not helpful.

“I’ll be there within the hour. If he offers anything in the way of a hint or explanation, give me a call. I’d like not to go in cold.”

“Understood. I will inform you if more information is revealed before you arrive.”

I ended the call and grabbed a second ear of corn. The Judge could wait a few more minutes. After nibbling my lunch, I stepped on inside to tell Fawn and Larry that I had to go over to my office. As I pulled the screen door open I spotted Fawn rummaging in the closet by the front door. She pulled out her police jacket she’d gotten as a new officer. She still wore it in preference to anything else. She settled it on her shoulders and flipped her blonde hair back, then bent down to give Zhira a hug.

“I have to go to work sweetie. I’ll be home soon.” She straightened up and shared a hug with Larry. They held onto each other for a moment more, looking into each others eyes then they noticed me watching.

“He shortstuff. I have to go in. There’s a crime that doesn’t appear standard. So the special unit will be covering it.”

I nodded. “It’s a day for it. I just got a call from Sinera that there’s a client who wants to see me now of all times. I have to go too.”

Larry reached down and picked up Zhira. She giggled and leaned over to Fawn to give her a kiss on the cheek. She then wiggled in Larry’s arm to give me one on the cheek and a pat of her hand.

“We keep corn” she said smiling.

“Yeah you will ‘cause it’s your favorite. I know you” I said laughing. There’s something about laughing innocence that lightens any mood. Here I was going to talk with a Elven Judge, and all I could think of was how nice a day it was. Children are magic.

The good mood stayed with me on my drive over to the office. I pulled into the near empty parking lot and parked the shiny black PT cruiser under the lone light post in the lot. It was still missing the rear seats, but I hardly used them. The large back without the seats allowed me to carry a whole lot of things. I felt a stab of melancholy as I got out, closed and locked the door. There not so many around now which made it stand out more. TO do my job I was likely going to have to get a newer old car so it would fit in more when I had to stake out an area. The bright blue sky gave the red brick a more vivid color as I walked to the front door. Reality intruded on my happy mood as I began considering more the reasons an Elf Judge would need to see me so desperately.

I couldn’t think of a reason why and that bothered me more the closer I got to my office. When I pushed the door open of my classic nineteen thirties noir style office, enjoying the gritty ambiance with the four drawer file cabinets bolted to the Murphy bed. The four-blade fan turned silently and its refurbished bearings over my large Oak desk with candlestick phone and new Rolodex that sat in gleaming black on the polished wood. The new bricks stood out against the older faded ones, with the only thing missing was the neon glow of the building’s sign because it was too light outside for it’s orange color to be seen. This was home, moreso than any other place I’d lived.

Judge Caddus was in the guest chair next to my desk, in full formal dress. His dark blue robe covered him from shoulder to ankle and his boots were of bright blue laquered leather with some silver highlights. His pale hair was in a long tail between his shoulders. He stood up and bowed politely as I moved to my desk and sat down. He sat after me, telling me that he was requesting my help rather than standing and demanding it. Sinera had schooled me on some of the Elvish eitquette.

Whoever bows lower is the one requesting the meeting, and who stands last is the one who is petitioning the other for assistance. If they remain standing, they will be negotiating from a position of power and making demands. If they sit, then it will be as a potential ally or looking for assistance. When both the standing last and sitting with the other party, it is one coming with a request of the person they’re meeting with.

That he sat with me and stood until I began sitting meant he was not trying to pull rank. He was genuinely concerned about something, and that something was extremely upsetting, if I understood Sinera’s lessons properly. I smiled and did what I always did, start with small talk. It gets people, most of them, to be more at ease.

“Hello, Judge. It’s been a while since the last time we saw each other. I’m hoping you have been doing well for yourself.” He looked at me like I’d grown horns and hissed at him. Too late. Whatever gaffe I’d done I did accidentally. Judge Caddus calmed himself and realized the mistake. He actually smiled, if the faint raising of the lips was an Elvish smile.

“I am also unfamiliar with proper human reaction and form. Let us both understand our differences and allow each the room for unintentional error.”

I smiled. He’d spotted the problem and offered a complete solution that blamed neither and focused on understanding. I am nowhere near so diplomatic. I much preferred not fighting, but I had little tolerance for errors that could be avoided with a little effort such as study or practice.

I nodded to indicate I noticed his layered solution.

“Yes, let’s not get in a fight because of a misinterpretation of someone’s intent.” I paused a moment to let him consider the words. “If I am not being overbearing, may I ask what had you contact my partner Sinera directly and request this meeting on a day that is almost never an office work day?”

He stared at me for a long moment. His eyes locked on mine and I don’t think he ever blinked. He sat and stared, as if trying to find a way to broach a subject. Finally he sighed, then reached up a sleeve on his robe. He took a few moments to locate something by touch, then removed his closed hand and placed on my desk in front of me. He opened his hand and withdrew it, leaving behind a small metallic-like blue glass bottle. The same kind of bottle that cost my friend Zhirk his life and Hervald Thensome his soul.

I’m not sure if I shrieked and scrambled back or just teleported to where I was, mashed back against the wall next to the window that had been replaced during that first hellish case. The Judge, thoroughly alarmed at my reaction quickly grabbe my coffee mug and placed it over the bottle, covering it and hiding it from sight. I struggled for breath for a few moments before the adrenalin shakes hit. I was wired, and scared to death. I had smashed that thing! At PEI Anolyn had deliberately targeted the box with glass bottles and burned it to ash, along with the huge oak tree that Cobb had used as a torture chamber to make them from the agony and despair of his victims.

I could hear Kent Nix and Kevin Love scream their lives out all over again. More than anything at that moment, I wanted to grab the bottle of scotch and drown my fear in the bitter alcohol and forget that cursed thing under my upended coffee cup. It’d take the better part of a year of twice-weekly therapy to finally get a control on all the trauma that went with the previous jobs. My head was more or less back on straight, and I didn’t wake up screaming or paralyzed by nightmares.

Now, that thing shows up on my desk out of the blue. Well, blue robes anyway. Snark and sarcasm has always been a way I handle stress. It just isn’t the best choice because giving someone attitude when they’ve got the upper hand is just begging for bat things to happen. It had more than once and somehow I managed to avoid most of the bad intentions sent my way. I rubbed the nub of my little finger while Judge Caddus attempted to apologize by bowing his head almost to the desk top in contrition. Now was the time to use that diplomatic moment.

“Judge Ca-ddus. I apologize for alarming you.” I took a shaky breath and walked back to my chair, turned it deliberately slowly back to the desk and sat down. “That item you thoughtfully brought me has many bad memories and experiences tied to it. I, uh, did not realize that any still existed.” Another shaky but calmer breath helped focus me. I closed my eyes and pictured my room mentally, using its familiarity as a calming influence for my body. I could feel the wire-tight tension ease as I mentally pictured each item in the room.

“I humbly accept your generosity and would have you know I meant no disrespect nor harmful intent. You are one of the few that know the nature of that creation and I am very desirous of temporarily procuring your abilities and expertise to determine the reason for its reappearance.” He gestured at my cup. “This was found in the hands of an Elf that had used it to overwhelm a Troll. The Elf has been judged and executed in accordance and balance to the crime committed. I have brought this to you to request your expert assistance.”