Troll Or Derby, A Fairy Wicked Tale (25 page)

The parking lot was no trouble. Deb had caused such a stir with her big Protector wings, the crowd had mostly followed her inside. If there were security trolls in the mix, I didn’t notice any. A couple of pixies buzzed my ear, but there was nothing I could do if they reported my presence to Jag. He was going to find out I was here, one way or the other.

I made it through the entrance. The English were enjoying their Bingo, with free drinks all around. The tables closest to the front were filled with polyester-wearing, beehive-stylin’ ladies from the ‘70s.
Young
ladies from the ‘70s. At the back of the room, hipsters sprawled in old-school Vans and too-tight sweaters, biting pierced lips as they leaned over multiple bingo cards with earnest devotion. I wondered how long they’d be prisoner here. I wondered if it ever occurred to the players in the front rows that this had been one long night of gaming.

But I didn’t have time to wonder long. The iron detector spells Jag had in place went off, and I was grabbed by a couple of standard issue woodland trolls who grunted at me in confusion.

They shepherded me into a holding room, prodding me along with their battleaxes, and keeping their distance. Once they seemed satisfied I wasn’t going to put up a fight, they shut me in, and I strained to pick up their conversation through the thick metal door separating us.

“Oh,” I heard one say.

“Nuh uh. Not Oh,” the other replied.

“I’m telling you man, it’s him. He’s out of his cell.”

“Shut up, he’ll hear you!” the other replied. He dropped his voice to a whisper—which, in the din of the Bingo Hall, was pretty much a normal speaking voice. “That ain’t no Othello,” he said. “I just saw him on my way to watch. He’s still on the hook.”

Othello. My mind reeled. There was only one Othello that I knew of, and definitely only one
I’d
be confused with, now that I was an adult. But he most certainly wasn’t in this casino. He couldn’t be.

Othello Saarkenner was my father.

Othello Saarkenner was supposed to be dead.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Fairy Godsmackers

Deb

Sports paraphernalia decorated the walls of the room. Not just any sport. Roller derby. Jerseys, skates behind glass, a helmet—no, a
head
wearing a helmet, mounted to the wall.

“Fairy Godsmackers” flashed on a pink neon sign above the menagerie of souvenirs. I was torn between asking about Gennifer’s whereabouts, and wanting to know more about the team. I wanted to skate—I could practically smell the rink. Skating didn’t seem like such a bad trade-off for my sister’s life, at the time.

“Something to drink, Deb?” McJagger said. “Your beer not cold enough?”

I took a long drink of the draft beer and set the tall glass cup on the table. “No, thanks,” I said through a belch.

The henchmen erupted into laughter, and McJagger seemed quite pleased. “Class act,” he said. “I think you’ll fit in just fine with the team.”

“Where’s Gennifer?” I said. I held the beer to my mouth for another drink, but took only a tiny sip. I didn’t want to lose my head, but I was so thirsty it was hard to stop myself from drinking.

“Your sister is resting,” McJagger said. His people were giggling, but he seemed much more serious this time. “She’s been waiting for you—and, in fact, I’ll be more than happy to release her into your custody, as soon as you’ve done your ‘tour of duty,’ so to speak, with the team.”

“Duty?” I said. “I don’t owe you anything!” I stood up and felt myself getting hot. I was growing in size, just as I had at the Troll Market, and now my wings were standing straight out, almost scraping the walls of the conference room on either side.

“Woah, woah!” McJagger said, but he remained in a reclining position in his black leather chair. “No need to get excited. No offense intended.”

He motioned to his men, and one of them opened a mini-fridge, pulling out two bottles of water. McJagger tossed one bottle to me, and unscrewed the other, himself. He took a long drink, emptying most of the bottle, and then set it firmly on the table.

“There’s a lot you’ve got to learn about this operation, Roller Deb. I know it’s all brand new to you, but there are rules.” He sighed, and leaned forward in his chair, his hands folded together as he stared across the table. “Oh, April …” he sang. His voice was quiet, but must have carried through the walls, because his daughter came into the conference room, a wide grin on her face.

“Have a drink of that water, Deb,” he said, without looking up. “It’s going to keep you under control—I mean, it’s going to help you keep your head—while you’re here at the Bingo Palace. I don’t need you losing your temper while you’re learning the ropes—I’m counting on you, Deb. Gennifer’s counting on you, too. It’s simple: you destroy the competition, and you and your sister go free. You run your mouth and blast around here flapping those scary black wings in all our faces, and we’ll eat you alive, my pet.”

The black cloud I’d seen on him at the Rustic Fog rolled across the table at me. It smelled acrid, like smoke, vinegar, and rotten trash. The garbage smell reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t place him at the moment. Someone creepy who lived at the dump or something.

“Just take me to the fucking rink,” I said.

I didn’t really want to drink his water, but McJagger drank it, himself—it must not have been completely incapacitating or anything, right?

Wrong.

Chapter 29.5

It’s a Free for All

Harlow

“Name!” the watchman demanded. “Tell me your name, and it’ll go a lot easier.”

I wanted to mess with him, I really did, but he was a woodlands troll—a Rhinoman, to be precise. Excessively thick-skinned, quick to anger, and easily confused. You know how some people are so stupid, they’re dangerous? Well, all Rhinomen are that way.

The two of them had patted me down, but failed to find the bow or the iron arrows. They’d felt up my mojo sack, but when I’d given them the stink eye, they’d backed off. I knew they were terrified, but I wanted them to think they were in control. When they’d accidentally found the chainsword tucked into my jeans, I’d let them think they were superstars.

It sat now, on the table in front of me. They’d high-fived one another, gloating. I guess it was the biggest piece anyone had tried to sneak in for quite some time—or at least the biggest one these dullards had caught.

Not that many folks would try and challenge McJagger’s operation. What his henchmen lacked in brains, they made up for in numbers, and sheer meanness.

Now the two of them sat facing me, waiting. Their big, dumb eyes were full of expectation, like two children front-row center at their first Disney film. What entertainment would I deliver next?

“Who do you think I am?” I asked.

“We don’t think nothing!” the first replied.

The second watchman struck him in the back of the head. “Don’t say that, you idiot! Make us look dumb!”

“What’s it matter how we look?” the first asked. He gestured my direction, eyes on his partner. “This idiot’s the one that left the chainsword where we could—”

He was interrupted by the sound of the machine starting up. I pointed it at the two of them.

“Take me to Othello Saarkenner, or I’ll neuter you stupid bastards, if McJagger hasn’t already. Were those truck nuts I saw attached to a Chevy in the parking lot, or did they come off you two losers?”

Have I mentioned trolls are stupid? Rhinomen, especially?

They jumped me. I took out the first one by accident. It wasn’t my intention to spill any blood—not yet—but I didn’t back down. I couldn’t show weakness.

“I’ll take you to O, man. I will,” the second said.

“No, you won’t,” said a third voice, in the doorway. My uncle’s voice. McJagger. “I’ll take you, myself.”

Chapter Thirty

Almost Evil

Deb

“This is it,” McJagger said. We stood in a huge stone archway, at the mouth of an enormous underground cave.

I’d drunk the water, and then the henchmen had left us, and McJagger himself led me through a series of doors and tunnels. First there had been a carpeted hall—smelly and sticky, just like the casino floor. Then I’d skated across tile. For a while it felt like we moved across shingles in the darkness, and I’d held a handrail. The space was so black I had no idea which way was up—we could have been walking on the ceiling for all I knew.

I’d wanted to ask him where the hell he was taking me, but I felt no fear or urgency. It wasn’t exactly blind obedience, but it seemed silly to me at the time to fight the guy who was taking me to the roller derby track, and eventually my sister. If I’d stuck to beer and skipped the water, that wouldn’t have happened, but man, did I learn the food/drink lesson the hard way.

The further we got away from the main hall of the Bingo Palace, the less my jaw ached. I felt a niggling in my chest—there was something not exactly right—but for the most part, I felt relaxed and excited to be there. Wherever “there” was, exactly.

When we finally came to the mouth of the cave, I could hear the clacking of skates on wood, and I was so excited I thought I would take off skating past McJagger, even though I didn’t know where I was going.

“April’s already out there,” he said.

When I looked at his daughter now, she was in full glamour—there was nothing magical about her appearance at all, except that it was a sham. She looked like a typical rollergirl: fishnet tights, speed skates, black & sequined knee, elbow, and wrist pads, a miniskirt with the word “Godsmackers” across the rear, and a sweaty tank top printed with fuschia fairy wings on the back, above her number.
665
.

Her helmet was so shiny. Layers of laser stickers and other reflective surfaces dazzled my eyes, even in the gray light of the cave. It was moments before my eyes adjusted enough to take in the sequins, glitter, and jewels. I could not take my eyes off her. Even glamoured to look mundane, she was phenomenal.

I squinted, trying to read the name on her helmet as she skated past.

Alma Steevil.

“Almost evil,” I said. “Not quite ‘666,’ huh?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

April noticed me then, and a playful grin broke over her face. “Are you getting out here or not, bitch?”

That was all the invitation I needed.

She was skating on a banked track, and I’d never done that before, but I wasn’t scared to try. McJagger was saying something about how to get inside the track, but I thought “up” and jumped the rail, flying a little bit like I had outside in the parking lot.

She was patient, but playful. We paced together for a bit, while I got the feel of the gravity. I picked up more speed than I’d ever had, and the sheer joy of skating filled me. As the wind whipped through my hair, I felt like a butterfly, like a magical being. I pushed faster and faster into the turns. I didn’t care if I wiped out. Nothing could hurt me.

My god, I am magical. I was born for this.

When I thought I was just another English kid, there’d been nothing like skating to exhilarate me. Now that I knew my body could do these amazing things, I wanted to try them all. Skate so fast that I could take off flying, let my wings carry me as far as they may.