Wuthering Frights (17 page)

"You're a fairy," I said in surprise, having only ever met one other fairy in my lifetime—the fairy hooker, Zara. Even as the words left my mouth, I had to question them, because as far as I could tell, Christina didn't have wi
ngs. And i
n the Netherworld, all fairies had wings.

Her eyebrows raised in surprise as her smile widened. Her large eyes were nearly as dark as her hair and framed with perfectly shaped, dark brown brows. She was probably around the same age as me, maybe twenty-six, twenty-eight, with a young face. Her sensuality radiated out of her and I could only imagine how popular she was
with the boys. But strangely enough, even dressed to the nines as she was now, something about her didn't seem totally girlie. Something about her hinted to the possibility that she could get muddy and do so happily.

"That's a true gift you have," she said, her dark eyes dancing. "And, yes, you're right; I am a fairy."

I frowned. "Where are your wings?" At the mention of "wings," mine suddenly unfurled. And like a Jack Russell on Red Bull, they began beating in full-steam-ahead-mode until I had to grab the chair back to keep myself grounded. Mortified, I could only assume I looked completely ridiculous.

"I have a special device in my jacket, which keeps them under control," Christina started as she dropped her gaze and tried to hide a smile. "It's one of the less-than-thrilling side effects we fairies have to suffer in the Netherworld." She waited for my wings to calm down and added, "I'm Christina Sabbiondo, pleased to meet you."

I smiled in return, finding her easy affability refreshing. I had to remind myself that she had some kind of relationship with my father and, as such, I shouldn't like her. "Dulcie O'Neil," I said abruptly.

Christina's eyebrows stretched for the ceiling as she turned back to face my father and said: "O'Neil? As in a relative of yours, Melchior?"

He
nodded with the expression of a proud father. It was something which didn't suit him and it made me want to throw up all over Christina's expensive shoes.

"Yes, Dulcie is my daughter," he said, glancing at me as if I were a prize winning
sow.
I glared at him as I muttered something unintelligible, while my wings continued to imitate a hummingbird on fast forward.

Christina faced me again and seemed to be studying me. "Ahhh, I can absolutely see the resemblance. You both have stunning green eyes."

I failed to reply because I was all out of pleasantries. Besides, where my father was concerned, it was better to hold my tongue than piss him off again. Especially since he didn’t hesitate in reminding me that Knight's safety was always on the line.

"I wanted to introduce the three of you," Melchior started, "because I am tasking all of you with a team project."

A fucking team project?
I said to myself, suddenly feeling like I was an unenthusiastic candidate on "The Apprentice."

No one replied, we just glanced back and forth at one another, waiting for Melchior to continue. He walked across his office to a coat closet in the corner of the room. Upon opening it, he reached for something and returned with a white Styrofoam box which looked like an organ transporting device. He opened the box and I almost expected him to pull out a lung. Instead, he placed a vial on his desk. It was about the width and height of my index finger, and filled with white pills that looked like Tic-Tacs. Melchior popped the cap and offered each of us a pill.

"What is it?" I demanded, feeling my heart drop. As a veteran ANC Regulator, I'd busted plenty of potions traffickers on the black market, and I was very familiar with illegal narcotics. But I'd never laid eyes on this small white pill before. 

"It's an antidote, or should I say, an anti-buzz," Melchior said softly.

"An antidote to what?" I inquired, my tone of voice sounding less than thrilled as I continued to study the white pill.

"To
Draoidheil
," my father answered, as if the very word would ring a bell or two in my head. But, at the moment, the only thing ringing inside me was my temper.

"What is that?" Christina asked, sounding like an eager student. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who hadn't seen nor heard of
Draoidheil
before, much less the white pill.

Melchior reached inside the box again and produced another vial. This one was filled with what looked like iridescent glitter, although the particles were far smaller, almost like very fine sand. He handed the vial to Quill, who inspected it before handing it to Christina. She started to uncork the vial, but stopped when Melchior "tsked" her.

"I would not do that," he said simply.

Christina's eyebrows raised as she gulped and handed the vial to me; but I wanted none of it and simply shook my head. She gave me a strange expression before handing it back to Melchior.

"What does it do?" she asked.

"In Gaelic,
Draoidheil
means magic," Melchior said simply. "And that is precisely what it is and what it does."

"Magic?" I asked in a droll tone, feeling like I'd just found a Golden Ticket to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. 'Course, I would've exchanged Melchior for Willy in a split second. And I didn't even like sweets.

My father faced me and frowned. "If I were to open this vial and hold it beneath your nose, with one whiff, you would be under the influence of
Draoidheil
. As simple as smelling a flower, whatever you most wanted in life would be yours."

"What?" I asked, frowning helplessly as fear began uncoiling within me. I'd never heard of a narcotic being activated by merely smelling it. Inhaling, yes, smelling, no. "What does that even mean, whatever I most wanted in life would be mine?"

"Not in actuality, of course," Melchior backpedaled. "But its influence would convince you that whatever you most desired; love, money, companionship, fame, intelligence ... was yours."

"And that's the narcotic's high?" Quillan asked, although it was really more of a statement. He glanced at the vial again with shock in his eyes. I'd never heard of anything like this before and apparently neither had he.

Thoughts started swarming through my head, causing alarm bells to peal through my entire body. "If I were to throw that vial into the air, with all of us in here," I started.

"We would all be under its influence," Melchior finished for me.

"For how long?"

"Perhaps five hours," Melchior responded, his countenance eerily casual and calm.

"How long does one vial of
Draoidheil
last?" I persisted.

Melchior held the vial up to his eyes, as if he were inspecting it. "The narcotic was designed to have an expiration date of two days after the uncorking of the vial."

"And let me guess, it's incredibly addictive?" I continued, the frown on my lips drooping all the way to my feet.

My father glanced from the vial to me and smiled pleasantly. "Precisely so."

A short shelf-life with an addictive chemical would predicate incredible demand. From a capitalistic standpoint, it seemed a winner. But from a humanistic standpoint, it was anything but.

"And how addictive is addictive?" Quillan asked cautiously.

"Currently, the most addictive potion on the market," Melchior answered. "One whiff and you would be at the mercy of the
Draoidheil
." I felt my mouth drop open in shock as Melchior held up the vial with the white pills in it. "That's why these little specimens are so important."

"Those pills invalidate the power of the potion?" Christina asked, her tone revealing she was as shaken as the rest of us.

"Yes, if taken right before or after exposing oneself to the
Draoidheil
," Melchior continued, "they nullify its effects." He glanced at Christina, then at me, adding: "I call it
Snake Oil
."

"Fitting," I said snidely, my heart racing as I began to put the pieces together. "This isn't on the streets," I said softly. "I've never seen it before."

My father's eyes narrowed on me. "Precisely so." He smiled then. "I am tasking the three of you with the mission of introducing and distributing it."

Ten

No one said anything for at least five seconds—and the cloying silence in the room became uncomfortable. I was still in shock, allowing my father's words to sink in. I
just
couldn't come to grips with the idea that A, there was a potion available as dangerous and potentially devastating as
Draoidheil;
and B, that I was now in charge of distributing it. I could already imagine what that would entail—widespread addiction. It was the recipe for a large-scale disaster, the outcome of which would be absolute dictatorship for my father. Why? Because it would mean an immense amount of unlimited money—unlimited because the stuff was so addictive. And of course, Melchior had designed it that way for exactly that reason—to ensure his own tyranny.

The more I considered it, the more it concerned me. It wasn't farfetched to imagine half the population, on Earth and in the Netherworld, addicted to this stuff. One sniff and boom, you were hopelessly addicted! Actually, half the population was probably being conservative. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to imagine that eventually, everyone could become addicted since the stuff was basically airborne. Yep, this really was the perfect
seedbed
to Netherworld dominion, as far as Melchior was concerned.

"And does it work on humans?" Christina asked, her tone curious but wary.

I hadn't even considered that side of things and gulped hard. Most Netherworld potions didn't have any effect on humans (with the exception of one or two). Likewise, things like heroin, marijuana, cocaine and meth, for instance, did nothing to my kind.

Melchior shook his head and relief washed over me. "Not so far."

That meant he was working on it. My sense of relief was short-lived and soon disappeared. The human market was probably where Melchior ultimately wanted to lay claim. There were far more humans in existence than Netherworld creatures, so he had to look at them like unmilked cash cows.

It seemed every time I turned around, I sunk deeper and deeper into the quagmire known as the illegal potions trade. If I thought I was up to my neck before, now I was up to my eyes and it was becoming increasingly difficult to invent a way out. But I still hadn't given up. I wouldn't give up now, knowing
Draoidheil
was on its way. I had to prevent this; somehow, I had to stop Melchior. But the question was
how
?

"Perhaps you would care to see a demonstration of the potency of
Draoidheil
?" my father asked. He said it with such ease and nonchalance, like we were on a field trip and he was going to show us how to pan for gold.