Fair Game

So A

‘Your husband’s a werewolf, right?’ said one young man as she walked by his table.

‘That’s right,’ she told him.

‘You ever have sex as wolves? Is it different from normal sex? Do you like it better?’ He gri

‘You ever have sex with your mother?’ she asked casually. ‘Was it better than with your girlfriend or did you prefer it with your boyfriend or your pet rat?’

His jaw dropped open and the guy nearest him slapped him on the head and told him,‘And that is why you are never going to get a date, Chuck. You see a pretty girl and the things your mama taught you about politeness and all the IQ points you can’t count on your fingers to keep track of just leave your head – and then you are compelled to open your mouth. Women arenot impressed by crudeness.’ He looked at A

‘How did you know I had a pet rat?’ said Chuck in a tone filled with awe. He was really drunk and had probably missed the point of everything anyone else had said in the last few minutes: everything except, evidently, the rat.

Several of his buddies laughed and gave him a hard time.

A

It wasn’t exactly a fun evening – A

Eventually the fascination with werewolves seemed to wear off and A

The crude Chuck’s friend saw her and came over to apologize again. ‘He knows he’s stupid when he drinks, so he usually doesn’t. It was just a bad day today, you know? The last call we took before coming here was a domestic abuse call – some lady’s boyfriend beat her up and then started in on her toddler. Chuck has a little boy he hasn’t seen since his ex-wife moved to California, and he took it pretty hard.’

‘I have bad days, too,’ A

Chuck’s friend nodded and wandered off.

She closed her eyes for a minute. She was a little short on sleep thanks to Charles, and it made her eyes dry.

Someone came over and sat on the chair opposite her. A

‘Isaac said he invited you,’ she told him. ‘But we were pretty sure you weren’t coming.’

‘Lizzie’s out of the operating room,’ he told her, sipping his beer as if it were fine wine. ‘Her mother and stepfather are there – and Lizzie will be drugged and sleeping until tomorrow.’ He took a bigger sip. ‘Her mother thinks it is my fault that she was taken. As I agree with her,it was difficult to defend myself, and so I retreated here.’

A

‘Her knee was crushed.’ He looked at the wall behind A

‘I’m so sorry,’ A

‘She’s alive, right?’ Beauclaire said, and took a long, slow drink. ‘The things they carved in her skin

In time, the surgeons might be able to get rid of them, they think. Until then, every time she looks in a mirror she’ll have the reminder of what she went through.’ He paused. ‘She knows she’ll never dance again. It broke her.’

‘Maybe not,’ said Leslie. She sat down beside A

She opened her purse, dug down until she found her wallet, and slipped a plain white card out, handing it to Beauclaire. It looked like a business card to A

Beauclaire took it and rubbed his fingers across it, and a faint smile crossed his face.‘And how did you get this?’

Leslie looked uncomfortable– almost embarrassed. ‘It’s real, right?’

He nodded, still playing with the card.‘It’s real, all right.’

She took a deep breath.‘It happened like this,’ she said, and spun a tale of monsters who ate children and childhood dreams – including Leslie’s puppy – and a fierce old woman who knew a little of the fae, and about a debt owed and a bargain made.

‘You can use it to fix your daughter’s knee?’ Leslie asked.

Beauclaire shook his head and handed the card back to Leslie.‘No. But I’ll remember you offered – and I’ll give you some advice, if you don’t mind. The fae who gave that to you did it with the best of intentions. For all that we do not reproduce, we tend to be a very long-lived people. Treasach was very old, and powerful, too. But death comes for us all, eventually, and it came to him.’

Leslie tucked the card away and rubbed her eyes with the edge of her finger so her makeup wouldn’t run. ‘I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. It’s stupid. I met him once, for less than ten minutes

and

I won’t forget him.’

‘No,’ agreed Beauclaire gravely. ‘Treasach was a marvel. Poet, fighter, joyful companion, and there are no more of his like to be found. None of us will forget him. Fae magic, though, sometimes has a mind of its own. That was given to you to resolve a debt. He intended it to be a gift and a blessing, but his death means that his will no longer binds that bit of magic. Use it or not, as you wish – but use it for a small thing, or for something that equals the grief of a good man who could not spare a child the pain of her puppy’s fate. If you remember his exact words, use it for that– by his words and by the debt this magic is tamed. Go beyond those things with your wish, and it will cause havoc of an unpleasant kind.’

‘Do you have healers?’ A

‘Healing is among the great magics and we have very few healers left among us – and most of them are even less trustworthy than Treasach’s gift would be.’ He took a drink of his beer and nodded to Leslie. ‘My daughter will walk again, but she will not dance. It is the way of mortals. Theyfling themselves at life and emerge broken.’