Ghost Light

“Hey, wake up,” I said.  “Did you drink faerie wine?”

I’d drilled three things into Jinx’s head since I learned about faeries, demons, and the undead.  Never give your blood to a vampire.  Never sell your soul to a demon.  If you find yourself in the Otherworld, do not eat or drink anything.  And don’t ever, EVER drink faerie wine.

Okay, that was four things.  So sue me.

The point was that breaking these basic rules was worse than death.  Letting a vamp drink from you, no matter how beautiful you think they are—and trust me beneath their glamour vamps are not sexy—results in addiction.  The experience is so pleasurable, due to a combination of vamp pheromones and chemicals in their saliva, that many humans become addicts after only a few bites.  The result is to become a hapless blood slave, passed around the vampire community like a bottle of cheap beer.

Selling your soul to a demon is even worse.  No matter how good the bargain, you’ll be headed to Hell sooner or later.  Capital H, e, double hockey sticks.  It’s not a nice place to visit and you’ll be a full-time resident for eternity—a slave to demons.  And demons?  They’re not called horny because of those protrusions on their heads.

Eating or drinking while in the Otherworld holds a similar fate.  Humans who eat or drink enough faerie food become addicts trapped in the faerie realm.  Even if they escape, food from our world turns to ash on their tongues.  Faerie wine is stronger than any human draught and is rumored to have the most addicting effects even if the smallest glass of the stuff is imbibed.  To drink faerie wine is to become a slave to one of the faerie courts—a plaything for bored immortals.

I’d been told that the boundaries of Faerie had been sealed, but there were always loopholes and Jinx was unlucky enough to fall into one.  If the clurichaun’s bolt-hole was a gateway to Faerie, Jinx could have drunk faerie wine without realizing what she’d done.  If she had, would she become an addict forced to live in Faerie?

I stood up, hands shaking, and nudged Jinx again with my boot.

“Did. You. Drink. Faerie. Wine?” I asked.

“Beer,” she mumbled.  “Lots and lots of beer.”

“Is that true?” I asked, glaring at the clurichaun.

“’Tis true,” he said, nodding.

I leaned in, sniffing at Jinx’s clothes.  She didn’t smell like wine.  Before I could straighten, Jinx burped in my face.

“Oberon’s eyes,” I said, wrinkling my nose.  “You smell like a brewery.”

Jinx giggled.  I wanted to kick her, but instead crossed my arms and glared down my nose.

“That’s ‘cause we were in a brewery,” she said.  “This guy’s hiding spot is in the basement of Old Shoal’s brewery.”

It sounded like she said “bashement o’ Old Shhhhoalsh bwewewy,” but I got the idea.  My friend had been in her version of Heaven, surrounded by kegs of microbrew beer.  She’d been partying in the basement of a local brewery, not Faerie.  I shook my head and nudged her again with my boot.

“Come on,” I said.  “Get up.  We need to get you home before full dark.”

I hesitated, then reached down and pulled Jinx upright.  I grit my teeth and slid an arm under her shoulders for support.  Most of my skin was covered in leather and denim, but all it took was a small patch of bare skin to trigger a vision.  This made carrying my roommate far from ideal.  If I got slammed with a vision from Jinx’s past, it would be her fault, but I hoped that could be avoided.  We didn’t need any more delays.

“What about my bags?” she asked.

Jinx looked so sad and lost, I melted just a little.

“Can you walk?” I asked.

Jinx shrugged me off and stepped forward.  She was wobbly, but remained upright.

“See, I’m fine,” she said.

She staggered and started to fall backward.  Crap.

“Here, take these,” I said.  I passed Jinx a fistful of shopping bags for each hand, careful to keep her balanced.  I had a feeling I’d need my hands free.  “Ready?”

Jinx managed to nod without falling over.  We were making progress.

“Thanks, I guess, for keeping her safe,” I said to the clurichaun.

I tried not to grump, much.  I hadn’t included a clause regarding Jinx drinking alcohol, so he hadn’t done anything to breach our agreement.  The faerie had held up his end of the bargain.  I could feel the debt between us heavy on my shoulders.  I almost hoped he called in his favor soon.  I’d have to work a case for free, but that was better than this feeling.

“Safe travels,” the clurichaun said.

He waved a stubby hand, smiling eyes gazing over the spectacles he wore on his red, bulbous nose.

“Safe travels,” I said.

I sighed and pushed Jinx out the door and into the night.

“Oh, crap,” Jinx said, pulling to a halt.

“What?” I asked.  “Did you leave something back at the shop?”

“I forgot about my date with Hans,” she said.  Jinx frowned at her feet and started to pitch forward.  “Guess I won’t be going out dancing.”