Faerie Tale (2 page)

And sundry others of course – none of whom had turned out to have the essential combination of insanity, genius and unlimited ambition that go to make up a true super-villain.  (Although Thespis had had the maniacal laughter down a treat)

It was not as though she missed Askphrit always trying to kill them –
she said
– but wouldn’t it be nice if
someone
out there would at least present a
challenge
!  All she wanted – she said – was a villain with a bit of originality.  A
proper
super- villain.  ‘I should say the world is lucky that
I
don’t turn to crime!’ she added.  

‘I should say so,’ said Denny emphatically. 

But Denny disagreed with the general thrust of Tamar’s desire to find a replacement maniac for the not-at-all lamented Askphrit. 

‘I hardly think you would find many decent citizens to agree with you,’ he ventured mildly, unconsciously echoing that other famous sidekick – Dr Watson.

‘Well, I suppose I ought not to be selfish,’ admitted Tamar reluctantly.  ‘I guess the world’s better off for it and it’s only the poor unemployed super-hero who’s out of luck.’

‘Natural disasters?’ offered Denny.

‘Snah!’ snorted Tamar.  ‘Too easy.’

‘
Easy
!’ said Denny. But he let it go. He had had this argument too often lately, and there was no reasoning with her when she was in this mood. 

It had never occurred to Denny that Tamar’s obsessive behaviour might have its roots in something else – like their now more or less indefinitely postponed wedding.  Which had been cancelled the first time due to unforeseen circumstances, i.e. Tamar being kidnapped by a crazed collector *, and had never really been rearranged
. 
‘It’s always going to be something’ they had realised. 

*
[
These terms are often synonymous
]

Of course, it might have had nothing to do with it.  Tamar was not really the settling down type and, had the wedding gone ahead, (and it was not as if she did not want it to – after all, she loved him) it probably would not have changed her very much.  Tamar was a natural fighter and likely to remain so.

Denny himself was all for a quiet life – if at all possible.  But the chances were slim to none really.  Even without the advent of some maniac trying to take over the world, there were plenty of other, less adventurous, maniacs out there to be dealt with.  And on top of them were the aforementioned werewolves, not to mention wizards, witches (the bad kind at least) politicians, gangsters, and the remaining Djinn still to be hunted up.  It was not as if Tamar was going to let it go.  She never let anything go.

Like that guy in the cinema queue.  It was funny really, but Denny thought that kind of thing seemed to be happening more often lately (or was it his imagination?) A definite upsurge in obnoxious behaviour.  Nothing dangerous really, nor criminal exactly, just … cruel or mean conduct, like the way school kids could be.

Because of her already low opinion of humanity in general (she conscientiously excepted Denny, Stiles and even Cindy from “humanity” in general) Tamar had not really noticed anything, but Denny’s radar was definitely twitching. 
Something
was going on, he thought – or might be anyway.  At least it was worth keeping an eye on.

* * *

Jack Stiles P. P. I.  (Private Paranormal Investigator)  London, NY, LA, Aberdeen, (often all at the same time) formerly of Scotland Yard – until he was kidnapped by vampires and lost his job – was noticing a sinister new trend of his own.  A larger than normal number of child abductions and all occurring under extremely bizarre circumstances. 

Why else, he supposed, would the frantic parents be coming to
him
and not the ?

Many of the parents reported seeing their baby turning into a bizarre creature before their very eyes and then vanishing.  Not the sort of thing you want to report to the police. 

Descriptions of these creatures varied immensely, but all the reports had one thing in common.  The people who saw the creatures universally agreed that what they saw was evil and was definitely
not
their baby, arguing that the
real
children had already been taken away some time before these creatures were discovered.  And who could tell just how long before?

Stiles was, for once, completely stumped.  He had no idea what could possibly be going on.  He decided to ask Tamar what she thought about it.

* * *

Tamar turned a dull crimson as Stiles related his tale, but, she had to admit, that she had no more idea than he did about what might be going on.  Research was more in Denny’s line; Tamar was all about the action. 

But just let Denny find out who was behind this and point her at them. 

‘There’ll be nothing left but scraps,’ she asserted angrily.

Stiles filled them in on the details – such as they were.  Only very young children, less than a year old were affected by the phenomenon.  Any older siblings seemed to be left severely alone, although many of them were exhibiting strange behaviour.  However, this, Stiles thought, could quite reasonably be attributed to trauma caused by the horror of the situation in which they found themselves. 

Tamar agreed, ‘I think we can dismiss that,’ she said. 

But Denny was not so sure. ‘What kind of strange behaviour?’ he wanted to know.

Stiles shrugged.  ‘I could find out,’ he said.  ‘Do you think it’s important?’

‘It might be,’ said Denny. ‘I just don’t know. I never heard of anything like this before,’ he added.

‘Sketches of these creatures might be helpful,’ he said now, ‘if you can get them.  They don’t have to be Rembrandts, just a general idea you know.’

Stiles nodded.  ‘I’ll get right on it,’ he promised. 

Somehow, he felt better now. Tamar and Denny would sort this out.  He had never yet seen them fail.

Suddenly a horrible wailing and shrieking was heard from above.  Stiles jumped up startled. 

‘It’s okay,’ said Tamar.  ‘It’s only Cindy,’

Stiles listened, and the sound resolved itself. She was singing what was, apparently, a lullaby, in a voice more suited to the luring of crows than the lulling of byes.

‘S’funny,’ said Tamar.  ‘I mean, it’s horrible isn’t it?  But the brat seems to like it.  The only time you ever see it smile is when someone sings – even
that
badly.’

‘Hush now my little one – please don’t you cry,’ Cindy warbled tonelessly. 

Denny raised his head. ‘I know this one,’ he said. ‘It sounded better when my mum used to sing it to my brother.’

‘To your
brother
?’ said Stiles surprised. 

But Tamar shook her head warningly. Denny’s family relations were not a fit subject for conjecture at the best of times – and this was not the best of times.  She wondered at Denny for bringing it up at all. 

‘She had a lovely voice my mum,’ said Denny. ‘Voice like an angel – face like a hatchet,’ he ended wryly. 

Tamar smothered a laugh.  ‘I guess that’s where you get it from,’ she said.  ‘Oh, er – the voice,’ she amended hurriedly, ‘not the face,’

‘Both,’ averred Denny mournfully.’

~ Chapter Two ~

D
enny’s search of the usual suspects had, so far, turned up few hopeful leads.  Trolls were fond of
eating
babies (when they could get them) but there were no records of them transmogrifying
into
babies.  And, anyway, the last known kidnap attempt by a troll had occurred more than two hundred years ago and had been unmistakable for what it was.  It is hard to mistake a large club-wielding troll for anything else really.  Ditto various demon cults, which used babies in the “ritual sacrifices to their filthy gods” – Cindy. 

In any case, in no cases of infant abduction, that Denny could find, were the babies
replaced
.

‘I get the feeling that I’m not looking in the right place,’ said Denny. But he could give no good reason for this assumption, other than “it’s just a feeling” and beyond the incontrovertible fact that he had, as yet, found nothing.

‘Why replace the babies at all?’ pondered Tamar.  ‘I mean, what’s the point?’

‘A clean getaway?’ suggested Stiles.  Tamar nodded uncertainly. It made some sort of sense, but it just did not seem like a strong enough reason for such elaborate precautions.

Denny flatly disagreed. ‘It takes powerful magic to transmogrify,’ he said, ‘and even more to keep it up for any length of time.  Why go to so much trouble, when with much less magic, you could teleport the child to the other side of the world if you wanted?
Unless
,’ his face brightened, ‘you were a shape shifter – but why would a shape shifter want to kidnap children?’  Denny’s face fell again.

‘You know, this whole thing seems familiar somehow,’ he said after a minute’s thought.  ‘I feel as if I should
know
what’s going on.  I’m sure I
must
have read about this
somewhere
.  I just wish I could
remember
.’  Denny’s italics were getting out of hand – a sure sign of stress.

‘You wanted to know about the other children,’ said Stiles after an awkward pause.  ‘The ones left behind.’

‘Yes?’ said Denny.

‘Well, according to reports they are all acting mean, you know bullying and teasing other children at school and so on and talking back to their parents.  Showing all the signs of being teenage delinquents in training, in fact.  Natural signs of stress according to the police psychologists.  But I take it you disagree,’ he finished,
apropos
of the look that had come over Denny’s face.

‘The behaviour fits,’ said Denny more to himself than to his listeners. 

Tamar and Stiles just looked at each other and shrugged. 

‘Fits with what?’ asked Stiles.  ‘Are you on to something?

Denny was gnawing a fingernail in a distracted fashion and ignored him. 

Tamar shook her head and put her hand on Stiles’s arm.  ‘Best just leave him to it,’ she said.  ‘He’ll let us know if he’s found anything.’

* * *

But Denny did
not
find anything, and the situation was only getting worse.  And now there was another problem emerging on the horizon.

At first it did not seem to come within their purview – that is to say it did not seem to be supernatural.  Not far from where the large house that they occupied was situated was a village (currently anyway – the house that they all shared moved location frequently –   usually when Tamar got bored) and this was surrounded by large areas of dense woodland.  So large, in fact, that it could credibly be called a forest.  The locals had recently been complaining that a large band of unruly gypsies had taken over the forest and were causing trouble.

At first Tamar and Denny ignored these reports as none of their business, although Cindy had casually mentioned gypsy magic and said that it was extremely potent and powerful when used correctly, but that it was white magic and not to be feared. 

However, this seemed to be irrelevant as far as it went, and they all assumed that these were not actual gypsies but rather “travellers” of the sort who roamed around the country in rainbow coloured vans, kept big, ugly dogs, lived on social security and did not bathe.

In view of the complaints of the locals, this seemed a reasonable assumption. 

But the incidents were mounting up, and not all of them could be explained away.  Most disconcerting was the number of people who seemed to be drawn away into the “forest” – presumably against their better judgement – and, when they returned, claimed that they had no memory of what had happened to them. 

Maybe, this
was
their business after all.

 ‘Kidnapped by aliens?’ suggested Denny only half jokingly, when this was brought to his attention.  (He was a devotee of the “X Files” and he had never yet given up hope that their investigations would bring them into the realm of science fiction.) 

He was unanimously ignored.

‘Could be hypnotism,’ suggested Stiles disinterestedly.  He was still concerned with his missing children, and this seemed to him to be a divergence that they could do without.

‘To what purpose?’ said Tamar. 

But Stiles just shrugged. He neither knew nor cared.

‘This thing with the kids is really getting to him,’ said Denny as Stiles slouched away despondently.

‘Not surprising really,’ said Tamar.

‘No.’ Denny looked away and pretended to be absorbed in the newspaper report about the gypsies’ latest outrage.  They were finding it increasingly difficult to talk about the missing children.  He was not terribly interested in the gypsies himself, and could not think of a single reason why they would use hypnotism on the locals – it was probably all hysteria.  People got lost in woods all the time, after all.

Suddenly Denny gave a yell of surprise, leapt up from his seat and threw the newspaper to the floor.

‘What?’  Tamar was startled. 

‘Shee,’ muttered Denny mysteriously enough. 

‘What?’ repeated Tamar.

‘Shee, Shee,’ he reiterated and pointed to the newspaper.  He was becoming incoherent, so Tamar picked up the newspaper and read.

Eventually she said. ‘So these people, gypsies, travellers whatever – call themselves the “Sidhe”*
so what?  That’s not a Romany word is it?’

‘No, it’s damn well not,’ said Denny, grim faced and angry.  ‘It’s Celtic, and I think we’ve just found our child snatchers.  

^*
[
The correct spelling but Denny had pronounced it correctly
]

Cindy was in the forest. She had no idea why she had come, but she felt the compulsion to go on even as her reason told her to go back.

But she went blindly on; struggling against the underbrush and low branches that tore at her hair and clothes (she had never been so careless of her appearance before – it
had
to be a spell.)  Lured on to a destiny that was both vague and terrifying and yet could not be evaded.