I was sprawled out on the couch in my office when she called. Summer was just changing to autumn and it was still early even though the sky had darkened and only the moon lit the office through the blinds. It took a couple of rings from the phone before I was able to pull myself to my feet and make my way to the desk.
"Elroy Reardon," I spoke into the receiver, placing the bottle of whiskey on the top of the desk while I leaned on it.
"Mr. Reardon, hello," her voice was smooth. Which in my business meant dangerous. "I was wondering if you had time this evening to take a case."
"Office hours are nine to five, feel free to call back then," I moved to put the phone back on the receiver.
She kept right on talking, "I have a car waiting outside for you."
I sniffed a little and turned towards the window, flicking a blind up to take a peak outside into the street below. Across the street from my building sitting in the glow of a streetlight was an authentic Rolls Royce. Seeing as how there was no factory in Notion City that made them, I couldn't hide the whistle. This broad must be loaded.
"Mr. Reardon?" her voice repeated, distant until I put the telephone back to my ear.
"You're in luck," I said. "I just extended my office hours."
"Good, then we can expect you in twenty minutes."
"Twenty-five," I corrected her. "I've got to put on a pair of pants." The phone call ended with an audible click from her end. Well, that didn't end the employment opportunity. For whatever reason this woman needed me on the job, and something told me that wasn't a good thing.
She was right. It was a twenty minute ride in the posh car with the tight lipped driver to her home. Which also meant I was right. It took me five minutes to find and put on an appropriate pair of pants. That certainly said something about the condition of my office, I only had the two suits.
We pulled to a stop outside one of the grand high rise apartments the Fae had helped construct, and were mainly populated by their proxies in Notion City. It was heavily Gothic in design, massive stone work. And atop every pillar or arch or point stood a gargoyle in guard. They eyed me suspiciously, and I had no way of knowing how many were watching. Luckily, I had business. These type of places didn't need security in the lobby, the gargoyles were guards enough.
The driver accompanied me into the lobby. I wasn't all that surprised to find it grand in design, just a little amazed at the sheer upfront nature of the opulence. It was once in a blue moon I got a client on this height of the class ladder. These types could afford higher payroll. Again, a steady uneasiness was working its way through my system.
We called the elevator and the driver directed the operator to take us to the penthouse. They both had to insert a little key into the elevator to set it up. Posh.
My assessment remained the same when the door was slid open and revealed my new employers great room. I was going to have to up my hourly rates.
It was obviously for entertaining. Numerous chairs and couches wrapped around a central fireplace. Each side had their own television. Two televisions. In one house. Though, that’s why they were placed in the great room. They weren’t there for viewing, stations outside of the Fog that surrounded Notion City didn’t come through so there were only a few things to watch. Maybe one channel to pick up. But with only a few in the city before it was cut off, and production on new models slow going. Well, it certainly meant something to have two televisions.
I couldn’t help but whistle again.
The driver gave me a sour look from beneath his hat then led me further inside. He directed me further inside. The step down nearly sent me face first into the ground. I was given warning of it, off-handedly, after the fact. I liked him better when he didn’t speak.
On a couch big enough for eight, sat two. A man and a woman, each held the other tightly, at least with their arms. Neither of the hands were actually holding, they were balled into fists and just pressed against the other’s body. They unclenched and separated as I approached. The man went to offer me a seat, but I was already taking it.
I had seen him in the papers. A mister Andrew Dietrich. Normally, in his photographs, the man stood tall and imposing. He had to be. He handled many negotiations with the Fae concerning produce rates for the business of Notion City. Against the Earth Court, it would be foolish to send in a weak man. They were consummate stonewallers.
Today, he wrung his sweaty hands.
The woman on the other hand, she worried me. She had those eyes that turn men to jelly. Piercing blue with little flecks of black in the iris. Her black hair contrast with his blonde. This was the woman I spoke to on the phone, she didn’t even have to open her mouth for me to know it was her. She was used to men doing exactly what she wanted.
“Mr. Reardon,” Dietrich said while staring at his hands.
“Mr. Dietrich,” I said unflinchingly.
“So, you know who I am.”
“Hard not to,” damn if this chair wasn’t comfy. The awakening from my nap and a little of the booze still in my system had me sinking into it. “You’re in the paper. Harvest time is upon us, hard at work keeping the costs of it low for us Notion City citizens.”
“You don’t have to be patronizing,” the woman snapped and moved to take Dietrich’s hand in hers.
He didn’t allow it, “leave him be, dear. There are those who often disagree with what I do. Are you part of the Human Only Organization? It would certainly explain your profession.”
“No, I don’t much agree with them either.” I said, “but while we’re on the topic of my profession, why am I here Mr. Dietrich?”
“About a week ago, my boy was inured during recess at school. Normally, they’d have patched him up at the nurse and I’d have never heard a word of it. Boys tend to get into all kinds of scrapes. But this time, he-”
I knew where this was going, “he didn’t bleed blood?”
Dietrich nodded and took a moment of silence, his hands shook furiously. The woman beside him reach down to hold them tight.
I kept a small notepad and pencil in the breast pocket of my coat and withdrew it. There were a few pages left that I began to take notes on while he collected himself. I waited for him to regain his composure then start again., "what did he bleed Mr. Dietrich?"
He bit his lip. And the woman beside him spoke up, "Straw. Mr. Reardon. He bled straw."
I wrote that down, "that would indicate he's a fetch made by the Earth Court. And you are?"
"She's my fiance." Dietrich reached out and took the woman's hand, forcing a smile for her then turning back to me. "Yes, straw is the usual indicator for the Earth Court."
"So, the question then is Mr. Dietrich," I set the pencil aside and focused on the two of them. "Why would the people who you often deal with steal your child and set you up with a replacement?"
He shook his head, "it's growing closer to the final harvest. Days away, in fact. Then we'll negotiate our contract. Maybe, maybe it's a bargaining chip. Uh, something to get a little more out of the deal." He blinked back tears, and shook his head while his eyes darted from side to side.
"Dad?" A small voice asked from the side of the room. There they stood. A small boy and girl, both with their fathers blonde hair. They weren't older than six or so, from what I could tell they were both the same age. Twins. Same height. Mostly the same features in every way.
"Is everything alright?" asked the boy, clinging tightly to his sister.
"Everything is fine," the woman rose and walked over to the two. Dietrich kept his eyes averted, trying to hide his trembling lip. "Mommy and daddy are just talking with a guest. Please, go back to bed now."
Their eyes met mine, before the boy turned to the girl and led her away. They departed down a hallway and I heard the door closing. A final audible click of the handle. I turned back to the man, he looked at the breaking point. He couldn't stop shuddering.
"Have you told your daughter yet?" I asked while adding another note to the book.
"That's the thing Mr. Reardon," the woman moved back to the couch and held Dietrich tightly, again with clenched fists. "Once we heard about Jacob we tested Margret that same night. She bled straw too Mr. Reardon. Both those children you saw, are fetches."
