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maderrNothing spectacular, but it's something I've wanted to write for ages. Sweet and fluffy, and it opens with nekkid consort.
Chris opened one eye and glared in the general direction of the phone on the far side of the room. When it didn’t obey his silent command to stop ringing, he muttered a few choice words and begrudgingly disentangled himself from warm blankets and clinging demon.
Beyond the floor to ceiling windows everything was still pitch black, or close enough to it he resented wholly being woken – and that Sable was still sound asleep. Damned demon.
Padding across the plush carpet, realizing belatedly he was completely naked and the room was chilly, Chris snatched up the phone and snarled into it. “What?”
Long used to her boss’s consort and his manners, Sable’s secretary calmly replied. “Mr. White, there’s an Agency call for you.”
Chris scowled at the clock over the mantel. 6:03. Someone was going to die, including Doug and Vincent for not being around to field the late night and early morning calls. “Fine.”
A moment later the secretary connected the calls. “White Detective Agency,” Chris said, forcing himself to speak with at least a modicum of patience and politeness. “Chris speaking.” He pined for a cup of coffee. Clothes would also be nice. Going back to bed would be divine. He glared at the fireplace until the flames roared to life, his ring shimmering in the dark room. “How can I help you?”
“Yes…I’m sorry to be calling you at such an awful hour. I wanted to do it before I convinced myself I was being foolish. I’m sure it’s all in my head, but Ms. Waverly insisted I call you… I really shouldn’t have bothered, but it’s been so frustrating and I don’t like to think I’m crazy though I suspect I rather am…”
Chris rubbed his forehead and thought longingly of his pants. Or a cordless phone, but Sable hated them and they tended not to work as well in magic-infested areas. It was so beyond unfair and ridiculous to make him work both half-asleep and naked. The fact he wasn’t certain which of those was worse proved just how not awake he was. Damned demons keeping him up all night.
He forced his mind to work whether it liked it or not. Waverly. He knew that name. A case…ah, an infestation of gremlins. That had been it. Millerton. Fifteen miles east of the city, right along the river where it curved. “Sir, calm down. It’s perfectly all right. Let’s go one step at a time.” It wasn’t alright, but a client was a client and they came first no matter how much he wanted to maim them and go back to bed.
The guy sounded young, but definitely adult. Mid-twenties or so, likely. “My name is Christian White. Chris, please. You are?”
“Oh. My apologies. I’ve been so off balance with all this… My name is Blake Saunders…Father Saunders, though you can certainly call me Blake. I lead the parish here in Millerton.”
Chris snapped awake. Father. A priest. Bitterness tried to rise up, but in this one thing he would never give up. “What is your problem, Father?”
“I…to be honest, I’m not certain. This probably is going to sound incredibly stupid and I hate to trouble you with it but I’m at my wits end…I believe my garden is haunted. Ms. Waverly, the dear woman, actually listened to me ramble and then suggested I call your Agency.
“What makes you think it’s haunted?”
“Things…move. They shouldn’t, but they do. Plants completely change positions over night, and my furniture is always being rearranged. I know it’s none of the local kids, I’d have figured it out already. Voices, too. I hear whispering when no one is around. Always I feel like I’m being watched when I’m out there and even occasionally when I’m inside. Drat, I really do sound as stupid as I’d feared. I apologize again for bothering you, Mr. White—“
“No,” Chris said sharply. “You’re not stupid or crazy. It sounds as though you may indeed have some sort of problem.” Not a ghost, unless it was a particularly strange one, but something. Any number of things, especially as Father Saunders was obviously a normal…though not for long if he was noticing things most normals wouldn’t see if their lives depended on it. Which gave him a chance…
“…You don’t think I’m crazy?”
Chris almost snorted in amusement. “Far from it, Father, I assure you. This is precisely the sort of thing I do for a living.”
He sensed Father Saunders was nodding on the other end of the phone. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Ms. Waverly was most sincere in her insistence upon my calling you. There was no deceit or mockery in her at all.”
That was a peculiar thing to say. Perhaps this priest wasn’t as normal as Chris has surmised. “I would need to know more details of your problem,” he said. “How about I come out and see your garden? You can elaborate on the problem for me. Does nine o’clock sound okay?” Damn it, he’d hoped to spend all of today with Sable. Unfortunately, he wasn’t so cruel as to sic Myra or Phil on a poor priest. Besides, this could be his chance…Chris shook the thought off and set it aside. He would deal with that when he’d done his job.
“Nine would be fine,” Father Saunders replied, relief plain in his voice. “Thank you very much.”
Chris grunted, mind already beginning to turn fully toward work. “Thank me when I’ve solved the problem. We’ll discuss payment then as well.”
“Of course. Thank you again. I will see you at nine.” The phone went dead.
The soft swish of fabric was his only warning before Chris found himself draped in demon and wrapped in the bed’s crushed velvet coverlet. He pressed back against his lover, humming as a hot mouth lavished attention upon his throat. “I have work, Sable.”
“Not until nine,” Sable murmured, teeth grazing his ear.
Chris shivered and reached his hand back to stroke Sable’s thigh, the curve of his ass, absorbed by the contrast of warm skin against his palm and the rough-smooth crushed velvet against the back of his hand. “Then take me back to bed, you damnable demon.”
Sable laughed softly and obeyed.
This far from the city, the storm clouds eased back and sunshine got through. As it was early spring, the temperature was perfect. Chris left his jacket in the SUV and took off his sunglasses as he approached the little cottage-looking house not far from the church proper. Quaint, old-fashioned little town, Millerton. Not too far away were the mountains that served as home to a couple of dragons.
He was halfway up the stone walkway when the door opened and a man who looked to be in about his mid-twenties stepped out, dressed in a dark brown long-sleeved t-shirt, faded jeans, and a beat up pair of flip-flops. His hair looked as though it had fought valiantly against a comb and not taken the loss gracefully, dark brown and wavy, falling into pale green eyes. Strange green eyes. That color nagged at him. Something familiar…
Chris blinked and forced himself not to stare. This was Father Saunders?
“Are you Mr. White?”
“Chris, please. I only get called Mr. White by people who get paid to do it. Father Saunders?”
Saunders laughed. “Blake is fine, really. I’m ever being told I’m too informal, but where I grew up we were only formal with the people we didn’t like.” He laughed again, an infectious sort of laugh that Chris bet went a long way toward making people listen to him. “Including the priests. They were the brimstone kind though. I’m more into picnics.”
Chris fought a smile. “You sound far less upset now than you did on the phone.” He held out his hand to shake Blake’s as he reached the man.
“Now that I’m more awake and you don’t think I’m insane? I feel much better.”
“So show me the garden and tell me everything. Leave out no detail.” Chris wished Doug were here, he was used to having the imp always with him – but if he dragged him away from the DeLovely estate now the vamps would kill him.
They walked around the side of the house to the backyard, and Blake led the way through a rickety gate in a high stone wall. The garden was beautiful, one of those old style ones never really seen anymore. About the only flower Chris recognized was one of the rosebushes. A small table and chairs were set up near the house.
“I just put those back this morning,” Blake said, seeing where his gaze fell. “They were there last night, but when I woke up they were over there.” He pointed to the far back corner of the garden, beneath a magnolia tree.
Chris frowned in thought, taking a closer look at the garden. His mom had a garden, one he’d finally convinced her to let him pay for. One of the few things he’d vowed to do for her and had accomplished. She was so damned stubborn.
Flowers weren’t his thing, but she’d tried to beat it into his head from time to time. Some of these flowers…he was pretty certain they weren’t all compatible. Hell, he thought maybe one or two weren’t right for the climate. Who knew? Not him.
He did know, however, what that might mean.
“Tell me, Father – Blake – did you plant this garden?”
Blake laughed. “Heck no. I take care of it best I can, but I bet I’m doing more harm than good. My predecessor died in his sleep about a year and a half ago. He loved this garden, or so I’m told, and I’ve tried to keep it up…” He shrugged and smiled. “Maybe the ghost is trying to tell me I’m doing it wrong.”
Chris smiled briefly. “You may be closer to the truth than you think.”
“So…” Blake tilted his head, causing his hair to flop into his eyes. He brushed it aside impatiently. “You’re a…strange sort of detective, aren’t you? I had no idea paranormal detectives really existed. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were scamming me.”
“You said something similar on the phone,” Chris said, suddenly recalling it. “Why do you say that?”
Blake looked embarrassed. “My mother always said I got it from my father. She said he could sense a lie from a mile away.” He shrugged, discomfited. “I’m usually more careful about letting that slip. Perhaps this ghost has me more shaken than I thought.”
Ah.
Now everything was falling into place. Chris blamed being slow on not getting his coffee soon enough. And demonic distractions.
He looked at Blake, those pale green eyes. As fine and pale as mist, but with the color of new spring. Of course. It seemed so obvious now. Chris smiled slowly. “Did you know your father? If you don’t mind my asking. I intend no harm.”
Blake stared at him for a long moment, and Chris could see the man reading him. “No,” he said at last. “I never did.” He shrugged again. “My mother said he was a nomad she met in the mountains. They spent two days together and then he was gone.” A trace of sadness there, but oddly no bitterness. Either he was hiding it, or had let it go. His gaze never wavered from Chris’s face. “You know something, though I’ve no idea how or what it has to do with anything.”
“Not much, really, but enough.” Chris smiled faintly then moved further out into the garden. His ring flashed in the sunlight as he focused his power to search…yes…such a tiny presence, he couldn’t pick them out without looking for it. He turned back to his client and smiled again. “Blake, this isn’t an ordinary garden.” He waved his hand at the flowers. “I don’t know much about flowers, but I’m fairly certain many of these shouldn’t grow so well together. It takes magic to make it work…a very specific kind of magic.”
“…Magic…” Blake frowned in thought. “This is all…hard to take…but I am nothing if not a man of faith. I also know you’re not lying. Please, continue your explanation.”
Chris nodded. “This is a faerie garden. It was made with the help of faeries. They keep it flourishing. However…” He moved back to stand with Blake. “Ordinary people can’t see or hear them. They’re too small; even I have to pay attention to feel them out. Faeries are delicate, and simple. They like plants, they like playing and tending those they consider under their care.”
“Okay…” Blake looked horribly confused, but he was obviously trying hard to follow.
“Their most favored companions…are elves.”
Blake stared at him, shock flitting across his face. “E-elves?”
“That doesn’t surprise you?”
“I…my mother used to call me her little elf when I was a child. She stopped when I got older, but I never forgot. I used to like playing…” Blake shook his head. “I’m not an elf. I would say ‘even if they really did exist’ but I think I’m beyond that point.” He sighed. “So my garden is filled with faeries? Why do they keep moving things?”
Chris smiled faintly. “They’ve probably been trying to talk toyou. If they were not so scared of me, as I sense they are, we could ask them.”
“Scared of you?”
Chuckling, Chris did not reply, but cast his power out to reach the person who could help them. Faeries were simple, child like. They liked elves best, but would talk to another childlike creature…even if said childlike creature was a smartass. He spoke aloud, laughing at the confused look on Blake’s face. “Hey, shopaholic!”
“Haha. Demon-loved still not funny. I’m at work and was here early, if that’s why you’re being obnoxious.”
“Good. Grab that miscreant of yours. I need your help here.”
“Where’s there?”
“Here,” Chris said, and reached out with his power to draw Phil and Jester to him.
Blake jumped about half a mile and stared wide-eyed.
Chris almost snickered as the man’s eyes widened. Phil did nothing but drive him crazy. Most men, she drove crazy in an entirely different way.
It would seem poor Father Saunders was not entirely immune.
Of course, Phil was dressed in a clingy pale blue skirt and slightly darker halter top, with only a thin, cream-colored cardigan over that. Her boots were dark brown and only made her long legs longer.
In her arms, Jester stirred, stretching briefly before launching himself into the air.
Phil’s laugher broke the silence. “Jester says he wants to play with the love-green. Half-elf should sit before fall.”
“Half…elf…” Blake stared at Jester, eyes the size of saucers as he took in the miniature-gargoyle-looking creature with rainbow-colored wings. “What…what in the name of heaven in that?”
“A pixie,” Phil replied fondly, holding a hand up to Jester, who fluttered down far enough to grip and kiss it briefly before zooming off to the trees. “His name is Jester. My name is Philippa – Phil, please.”
Blake seemed to shake himself. “A pleasure to meet you. My name is Blake Saunders.”
“Father Saunders,” Chris interjected “He thought his garden was haunted.”
“Ah,” Phil said. She turned around, intricately braided blonde hair bright beneath the sunlight. “Jester!”
A moment later the pixie came zooming back to her, moving around restlessly, excitedly, then raced off right back into the bushes and trees.
Phil laughed softly and shook her head. “Love-greens vexed. New man no tea. Stuff wrong place.” She looked around, her eyes landing on the table and chairs. “Stuff wrong place,” she said again, then shifted to point to the back corner beneath the magnolia tree. Right place. Tea place.”
“I think at this point I’d prefer something stronger than tea,” Blake said with a long sigh. “So I should leave the table and chairs there?”
Chris nodded. “I am betting that to them, the furniture is a weird sort of plant and it ‘looks prettiest’ back there.”
Blake nodded, then frowned. “So why do they keep moving the plants around?”
“To please you,” Phil replied. “They’ve probably been trying to communicate with you for a long time. You’re half elf, but all they see is the elf part. They’ve been trying to talk to you, and in their eyes you’ve been ignoring them…which they then take to mean that something about the garden must displease you.”
Chris smiled briefly, pleased with Phil’s progress. Amazing how much someone could change when they found their element. “See if you can’t get Jester to talk them into coming out of hiding.” He turned to Blake. “Focus like you do when you’re lie-detecting someone, only instead of stopping like you would when you’ve figured it out, keep doing it. Try harder than you ever have. Don’t stop doing it. Watch the garden, and most importantly Jester, as you do it.”
Slowly Blake nodded, and obediently turned to the garden, watching Jester as he came out several minutes later. He gasped. Chris could tell by the shimmer that appeared in the man’s pale green eyes that it was working.
The man’s mother had obviously known what his father was…why did she keep her son from the truth? Strange that Blake’s mother had known but never told her son he was half-elf. Then again, she wouldn’t be the first to resent a wanderlust elf for failing to stop feeling said wanderlust. At any rate, that was hardly his business. He’d solved the mystery of the haunted garden.
He couldn’t ignore the lost look on Blake’s face though, not when he knew all too well how that felt. At least his parents loved him enough to be honest.
“They’re beautiful,” Blake said softly, moving forward as though in a trance, holding his hand out as a group of faeries fluttered toward him, smiling like a little boy as one landed on his hand.
The faeries had light green skin and wings of translucent green-gold. Their eyes were dark gold, hair like the most delicate, twisting vines, decorated with tiny honeysuckle and periwinkle. They crowded around Blake, petting and fluttering, chattering quite clearly now that he could hear and see them…and hopefully understand. Like pixies, they were only understood by those they felt like letting understand them.
Chris smiled faintly. “They’ve probably been here as long as the garden, and I wouldn’t doubt they adopted all your predecessors as part of the garden. Everything is some sort of plant or enemy to plants in the eyes of faeries. That you’re an elf means they’ll do anything for you – so long as you take care of them in return.
“Of course,” Blake said, clearly offended by the implication that he wouldn’t.
“As to you,” Chris said, “Elves tend not to settle for very long. Three days is the longest I’ve ever see an elf stay in one place. I don’t think they’d go longer than a week. I know someone who is passing friends with an elf who travels periodically through his territory. If you wanted, I could get him to let the elf know about you, and that you’d like to talk. The elf probably wouldn’t mind, they’re overall friendly and easy going. Just can’t stand still.”
Blake smiled gratefully, dragging his eyes away from the faerie in his hand. “I would appreciate that, if it is no trouble. This morning has left me completely overwhelmed.” Another faerie landed on his shoulder and tugged playfully on his hair. Blake looked as though he wasn’t quite certain what to do. He also looked as though he were in pain.
“Headache?” Chris asked.
“Yes,” Blake said, startled.
“It’ll ease. You’re not used to using your abnormal abilities – what most folk call supernatural abilities. The more you do it, the easier it’ll get. A week or so, it’ll be as natural as breathing.”
Slowly Blake nodded, obviously nervous and pushed to his limits – but hanging in there. “I truly thank you – for everything. Whatever I can do to show that gratitude, you’ve only to say.”
“I’m not sure I’ve done you a whole lot of good in the end, and I hardly considered it work to point out faeries.” Chris said. “However, I would like to try and ask you for a favor.”
“By all means,” Blake replied with a smile. “What is it?”
Taking a deep breath, steeling himself for an all too familiar rejection, Chris explained.
“Chris,” Glenys said in surprise. Afternoon sunlight spilled in through the window behind her, brightening the green and pink of her ‘private parlor’. Really it was just the room where she liked to enjoy afternoon tea while skimming silly magazines and talking with his father. Years and years ago he’d wondered how they never got bored just talking. It was no longer a mystery, though talking wasn’t Sable’s favorite activity. “What in the world are you doing here? Are you on a case? Did Sable actually have something else to do?” She smiled as she said the last.
Chris rolled his eyes. “I’m not allowed to drop in and visit my parents?”
Daniel mimicked his son. “You’re up to something.”
Resisting the urge to stick his tongue out, something only his father ever made him feel like doing, Chris rolled his eyes again and gave up. “As it happens, I have a surprise for both of you.” He’d been working years on this surprise, trying and failing for longer than he liked. The constant lack of success had been pissing him off for ages. Now, though…
“A surprise?” Glenys asked. “What on earth are you up to, Chris?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Chris said with forced patience. Damn he hated when people asked that. He crossed the room and took the delicate green china teacup from his mother’s hands, then tugged her gently to her feet. At least she was dressed as beautifully and carefully as always. She’d have killed him if he’d come while she was still in her robe and slippers.
He turned to glare at his father. “You. No cheating.”
Daniel gave him an affronted look and did not deign to reply. Only his father could manage to look so thoroughly intimidating while being transparent and standing in front of seashell pink curtains.
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes again, Chris kept hold of his mother’s hand and led them through the house to the back. He threw the back door open with a flourish and motioned for them to precede him onto the wide porch.
Beyond the porch was the garden his mother had finally let him pay for – a gazebo, fishpond complete with little footbridge, more plants and flowers and trees than he had names for. It looked exactly as it had when his father had been alive.
All around the clearing before the gazebo were her friends, Sable, and Chris’s detectives.
Blake broke away from where he’d been talking to Sable and took Glenys’ hand. Dressed now as a priest, he bore little resemblance to the scattered young man Chris had helped only days ago. Blake kissed the back of Glenys’ hand. “You must be the lovely bride. I can see where your son gets his looks.” His eyes flicked to Daniel, and he bowed his head in greeting. “Sir.”
Glenys stared at Blake, around the packed garden – then burst into tears and threw herself into her son’s arms. “Chrissie! How—I can’t believe—“
Chris hugged his mom tight and smiled in a way that few ever saw. He kissed his mom’s cheek and held her, looking over her shoulder at his father, who merely smiled and nodded. Giving his mother another peck on the cheek, Chris finally pushed her gently away. “Come on, now. We’d best get started before somebody makes me find their lost cat or something.”
“You!” Glenys reached up to kiss his cheek and tug fondly at a strand of hair. They waited on the porch a moment as everyone settled into place, then Chris offered his arm and led his mother to where Blake and Daniel waited at the gazebo.
Chris opened one eye and glared in the general direction of the phone on the far side of the room. When it didn’t obey his silent command to stop ringing, he muttered a few choice words and begrudgingly disentangled himself from warm blankets and clinging demon.
Beyond the floor to ceiling windows everything was still pitch black, or close enough to it he resented wholly being woken – and that Sable was still sound asleep. Damned demon.
Padding across the plush carpet, realizing belatedly he was completely naked and the room was chilly, Chris snatched up the phone and snarled into it. “What?”
Long used to her boss’s consort and his manners, Sable’s secretary calmly replied. “Mr. White, there’s an Agency call for you.”
Chris scowled at the clock over the mantel. 6:03. Someone was going to die, including Doug and Vincent for not being around to field the late night and early morning calls. “Fine.”
A moment later the secretary connected the calls. “White Detective Agency,” Chris said, forcing himself to speak with at least a modicum of patience and politeness. “Chris speaking.” He pined for a cup of coffee. Clothes would also be nice. Going back to bed would be divine. He glared at the fireplace until the flames roared to life, his ring shimmering in the dark room. “How can I help you?”
“Yes…I’m sorry to be calling you at such an awful hour. I wanted to do it before I convinced myself I was being foolish. I’m sure it’s all in my head, but Ms. Waverly insisted I call you… I really shouldn’t have bothered, but it’s been so frustrating and I don’t like to think I’m crazy though I suspect I rather am…”
Chris rubbed his forehead and thought longingly of his pants. Or a cordless phone, but Sable hated them and they tended not to work as well in magic-infested areas. It was so beyond unfair and ridiculous to make him work both half-asleep and naked. The fact he wasn’t certain which of those was worse proved just how not awake he was. Damned demons keeping him up all night.
He forced his mind to work whether it liked it or not. Waverly. He knew that name. A case…ah, an infestation of gremlins. That had been it. Millerton. Fifteen miles east of the city, right along the river where it curved. “Sir, calm down. It’s perfectly all right. Let’s go one step at a time.” It wasn’t alright, but a client was a client and they came first no matter how much he wanted to maim them and go back to bed.
The guy sounded young, but definitely adult. Mid-twenties or so, likely. “My name is Christian White. Chris, please. You are?”
“Oh. My apologies. I’ve been so off balance with all this… My name is Blake Saunders…Father Saunders, though you can certainly call me Blake. I lead the parish here in Millerton.”
Chris snapped awake. Father. A priest. Bitterness tried to rise up, but in this one thing he would never give up. “What is your problem, Father?”
“I…to be honest, I’m not certain. This probably is going to sound incredibly stupid and I hate to trouble you with it but I’m at my wits end…I believe my garden is haunted. Ms. Waverly, the dear woman, actually listened to me ramble and then suggested I call your Agency.
“What makes you think it’s haunted?”
“Things…move. They shouldn’t, but they do. Plants completely change positions over night, and my furniture is always being rearranged. I know it’s none of the local kids, I’d have figured it out already. Voices, too. I hear whispering when no one is around. Always I feel like I’m being watched when I’m out there and even occasionally when I’m inside. Drat, I really do sound as stupid as I’d feared. I apologize again for bothering you, Mr. White—“
“No,” Chris said sharply. “You’re not stupid or crazy. It sounds as though you may indeed have some sort of problem.” Not a ghost, unless it was a particularly strange one, but something. Any number of things, especially as Father Saunders was obviously a normal…though not for long if he was noticing things most normals wouldn’t see if their lives depended on it. Which gave him a chance…
“…You don’t think I’m crazy?”
Chris almost snorted in amusement. “Far from it, Father, I assure you. This is precisely the sort of thing I do for a living.”
He sensed Father Saunders was nodding on the other end of the phone. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Ms. Waverly was most sincere in her insistence upon my calling you. There was no deceit or mockery in her at all.”
That was a peculiar thing to say. Perhaps this priest wasn’t as normal as Chris has surmised. “I would need to know more details of your problem,” he said. “How about I come out and see your garden? You can elaborate on the problem for me. Does nine o’clock sound okay?” Damn it, he’d hoped to spend all of today with Sable. Unfortunately, he wasn’t so cruel as to sic Myra or Phil on a poor priest. Besides, this could be his chance…Chris shook the thought off and set it aside. He would deal with that when he’d done his job.
“Nine would be fine,” Father Saunders replied, relief plain in his voice. “Thank you very much.”
Chris grunted, mind already beginning to turn fully toward work. “Thank me when I’ve solved the problem. We’ll discuss payment then as well.”
“Of course. Thank you again. I will see you at nine.” The phone went dead.
The soft swish of fabric was his only warning before Chris found himself draped in demon and wrapped in the bed’s crushed velvet coverlet. He pressed back against his lover, humming as a hot mouth lavished attention upon his throat. “I have work, Sable.”
“Not until nine,” Sable murmured, teeth grazing his ear.
Chris shivered and reached his hand back to stroke Sable’s thigh, the curve of his ass, absorbed by the contrast of warm skin against his palm and the rough-smooth crushed velvet against the back of his hand. “Then take me back to bed, you damnable demon.”
Sable laughed softly and obeyed.
This far from the city, the storm clouds eased back and sunshine got through. As it was early spring, the temperature was perfect. Chris left his jacket in the SUV and took off his sunglasses as he approached the little cottage-looking house not far from the church proper. Quaint, old-fashioned little town, Millerton. Not too far away were the mountains that served as home to a couple of dragons.
He was halfway up the stone walkway when the door opened and a man who looked to be in about his mid-twenties stepped out, dressed in a dark brown long-sleeved t-shirt, faded jeans, and a beat up pair of flip-flops. His hair looked as though it had fought valiantly against a comb and not taken the loss gracefully, dark brown and wavy, falling into pale green eyes. Strange green eyes. That color nagged at him. Something familiar…
Chris blinked and forced himself not to stare. This was Father Saunders?
“Are you Mr. White?”
“Chris, please. I only get called Mr. White by people who get paid to do it. Father Saunders?”
Saunders laughed. “Blake is fine, really. I’m ever being told I’m too informal, but where I grew up we were only formal with the people we didn’t like.” He laughed again, an infectious sort of laugh that Chris bet went a long way toward making people listen to him. “Including the priests. They were the brimstone kind though. I’m more into picnics.”
Chris fought a smile. “You sound far less upset now than you did on the phone.” He held out his hand to shake Blake’s as he reached the man.
“Now that I’m more awake and you don’t think I’m insane? I feel much better.”
“So show me the garden and tell me everything. Leave out no detail.” Chris wished Doug were here, he was used to having the imp always with him – but if he dragged him away from the DeLovely estate now the vamps would kill him.
They walked around the side of the house to the backyard, and Blake led the way through a rickety gate in a high stone wall. The garden was beautiful, one of those old style ones never really seen anymore. About the only flower Chris recognized was one of the rosebushes. A small table and chairs were set up near the house.
“I just put those back this morning,” Blake said, seeing where his gaze fell. “They were there last night, but when I woke up they were over there.” He pointed to the far back corner of the garden, beneath a magnolia tree.
Chris frowned in thought, taking a closer look at the garden. His mom had a garden, one he’d finally convinced her to let him pay for. One of the few things he’d vowed to do for her and had accomplished. She was so damned stubborn.
Flowers weren’t his thing, but she’d tried to beat it into his head from time to time. Some of these flowers…he was pretty certain they weren’t all compatible. Hell, he thought maybe one or two weren’t right for the climate. Who knew? Not him.
He did know, however, what that might mean.
“Tell me, Father – Blake – did you plant this garden?”
Blake laughed. “Heck no. I take care of it best I can, but I bet I’m doing more harm than good. My predecessor died in his sleep about a year and a half ago. He loved this garden, or so I’m told, and I’ve tried to keep it up…” He shrugged and smiled. “Maybe the ghost is trying to tell me I’m doing it wrong.”
Chris smiled briefly. “You may be closer to the truth than you think.”
“So…” Blake tilted his head, causing his hair to flop into his eyes. He brushed it aside impatiently. “You’re a…strange sort of detective, aren’t you? I had no idea paranormal detectives really existed. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were scamming me.”
“You said something similar on the phone,” Chris said, suddenly recalling it. “Why do you say that?”
Blake looked embarrassed. “My mother always said I got it from my father. She said he could sense a lie from a mile away.” He shrugged, discomfited. “I’m usually more careful about letting that slip. Perhaps this ghost has me more shaken than I thought.”
Ah.
Now everything was falling into place. Chris blamed being slow on not getting his coffee soon enough. And demonic distractions.
He looked at Blake, those pale green eyes. As fine and pale as mist, but with the color of new spring. Of course. It seemed so obvious now. Chris smiled slowly. “Did you know your father? If you don’t mind my asking. I intend no harm.”
Blake stared at him for a long moment, and Chris could see the man reading him. “No,” he said at last. “I never did.” He shrugged again. “My mother said he was a nomad she met in the mountains. They spent two days together and then he was gone.” A trace of sadness there, but oddly no bitterness. Either he was hiding it, or had let it go. His gaze never wavered from Chris’s face. “You know something, though I’ve no idea how or what it has to do with anything.”
“Not much, really, but enough.” Chris smiled faintly then moved further out into the garden. His ring flashed in the sunlight as he focused his power to search…yes…such a tiny presence, he couldn’t pick them out without looking for it. He turned back to his client and smiled again. “Blake, this isn’t an ordinary garden.” He waved his hand at the flowers. “I don’t know much about flowers, but I’m fairly certain many of these shouldn’t grow so well together. It takes magic to make it work…a very specific kind of magic.”
“…Magic…” Blake frowned in thought. “This is all…hard to take…but I am nothing if not a man of faith. I also know you’re not lying. Please, continue your explanation.”
Chris nodded. “This is a faerie garden. It was made with the help of faeries. They keep it flourishing. However…” He moved back to stand with Blake. “Ordinary people can’t see or hear them. They’re too small; even I have to pay attention to feel them out. Faeries are delicate, and simple. They like plants, they like playing and tending those they consider under their care.”
“Okay…” Blake looked horribly confused, but he was obviously trying hard to follow.
“Their most favored companions…are elves.”
Blake stared at him, shock flitting across his face. “E-elves?”
“That doesn’t surprise you?”
“I…my mother used to call me her little elf when I was a child. She stopped when I got older, but I never forgot. I used to like playing…” Blake shook his head. “I’m not an elf. I would say ‘even if they really did exist’ but I think I’m beyond that point.” He sighed. “So my garden is filled with faeries? Why do they keep moving things?”
Chris smiled faintly. “They’ve probably been trying to talk toyou. If they were not so scared of me, as I sense they are, we could ask them.”
“Scared of you?”
Chuckling, Chris did not reply, but cast his power out to reach the person who could help them. Faeries were simple, child like. They liked elves best, but would talk to another childlike creature…even if said childlike creature was a smartass. He spoke aloud, laughing at the confused look on Blake’s face. “Hey, shopaholic!”
“Haha. Demon-loved still not funny. I’m at work and was here early, if that’s why you’re being obnoxious.”
“Good. Grab that miscreant of yours. I need your help here.”
“Where’s there?”
“Here,” Chris said, and reached out with his power to draw Phil and Jester to him.
Blake jumped about half a mile and stared wide-eyed.
Chris almost snickered as the man’s eyes widened. Phil did nothing but drive him crazy. Most men, she drove crazy in an entirely different way.
It would seem poor Father Saunders was not entirely immune.
Of course, Phil was dressed in a clingy pale blue skirt and slightly darker halter top, with only a thin, cream-colored cardigan over that. Her boots were dark brown and only made her long legs longer.
In her arms, Jester stirred, stretching briefly before launching himself into the air.
Phil’s laugher broke the silence. “Jester says he wants to play with the love-green. Half-elf should sit before fall.”
“Half…elf…” Blake stared at Jester, eyes the size of saucers as he took in the miniature-gargoyle-looking creature with rainbow-colored wings. “What…what in the name of heaven in that?”
“A pixie,” Phil replied fondly, holding a hand up to Jester, who fluttered down far enough to grip and kiss it briefly before zooming off to the trees. “His name is Jester. My name is Philippa – Phil, please.”
Blake seemed to shake himself. “A pleasure to meet you. My name is Blake Saunders.”
“Father Saunders,” Chris interjected “He thought his garden was haunted.”
“Ah,” Phil said. She turned around, intricately braided blonde hair bright beneath the sunlight. “Jester!”
A moment later the pixie came zooming back to her, moving around restlessly, excitedly, then raced off right back into the bushes and trees.
Phil laughed softly and shook her head. “Love-greens vexed. New man no tea. Stuff wrong place.” She looked around, her eyes landing on the table and chairs. “Stuff wrong place,” she said again, then shifted to point to the back corner beneath the magnolia tree. Right place. Tea place.”
“I think at this point I’d prefer something stronger than tea,” Blake said with a long sigh. “So I should leave the table and chairs there?”
Chris nodded. “I am betting that to them, the furniture is a weird sort of plant and it ‘looks prettiest’ back there.”
Blake nodded, then frowned. “So why do they keep moving the plants around?”
“To please you,” Phil replied. “They’ve probably been trying to communicate with you for a long time. You’re half elf, but all they see is the elf part. They’ve been trying to talk to you, and in their eyes you’ve been ignoring them…which they then take to mean that something about the garden must displease you.”
Chris smiled briefly, pleased with Phil’s progress. Amazing how much someone could change when they found their element. “See if you can’t get Jester to talk them into coming out of hiding.” He turned to Blake. “Focus like you do when you’re lie-detecting someone, only instead of stopping like you would when you’ve figured it out, keep doing it. Try harder than you ever have. Don’t stop doing it. Watch the garden, and most importantly Jester, as you do it.”
Slowly Blake nodded, and obediently turned to the garden, watching Jester as he came out several minutes later. He gasped. Chris could tell by the shimmer that appeared in the man’s pale green eyes that it was working.
The man’s mother had obviously known what his father was…why did she keep her son from the truth? Strange that Blake’s mother had known but never told her son he was half-elf. Then again, she wouldn’t be the first to resent a wanderlust elf for failing to stop feeling said wanderlust. At any rate, that was hardly his business. He’d solved the mystery of the haunted garden.
He couldn’t ignore the lost look on Blake’s face though, not when he knew all too well how that felt. At least his parents loved him enough to be honest.
“They’re beautiful,” Blake said softly, moving forward as though in a trance, holding his hand out as a group of faeries fluttered toward him, smiling like a little boy as one landed on his hand.
The faeries had light green skin and wings of translucent green-gold. Their eyes were dark gold, hair like the most delicate, twisting vines, decorated with tiny honeysuckle and periwinkle. They crowded around Blake, petting and fluttering, chattering quite clearly now that he could hear and see them…and hopefully understand. Like pixies, they were only understood by those they felt like letting understand them.
Chris smiled faintly. “They’ve probably been here as long as the garden, and I wouldn’t doubt they adopted all your predecessors as part of the garden. Everything is some sort of plant or enemy to plants in the eyes of faeries. That you’re an elf means they’ll do anything for you – so long as you take care of them in return.
“Of course,” Blake said, clearly offended by the implication that he wouldn’t.
“As to you,” Chris said, “Elves tend not to settle for very long. Three days is the longest I’ve ever see an elf stay in one place. I don’t think they’d go longer than a week. I know someone who is passing friends with an elf who travels periodically through his territory. If you wanted, I could get him to let the elf know about you, and that you’d like to talk. The elf probably wouldn’t mind, they’re overall friendly and easy going. Just can’t stand still.”
Blake smiled gratefully, dragging his eyes away from the faerie in his hand. “I would appreciate that, if it is no trouble. This morning has left me completely overwhelmed.” Another faerie landed on his shoulder and tugged playfully on his hair. Blake looked as though he wasn’t quite certain what to do. He also looked as though he were in pain.
“Headache?” Chris asked.
“Yes,” Blake said, startled.
“It’ll ease. You’re not used to using your abnormal abilities – what most folk call supernatural abilities. The more you do it, the easier it’ll get. A week or so, it’ll be as natural as breathing.”
Slowly Blake nodded, obviously nervous and pushed to his limits – but hanging in there. “I truly thank you – for everything. Whatever I can do to show that gratitude, you’ve only to say.”
“I’m not sure I’ve done you a whole lot of good in the end, and I hardly considered it work to point out faeries.” Chris said. “However, I would like to try and ask you for a favor.”
“By all means,” Blake replied with a smile. “What is it?”
Taking a deep breath, steeling himself for an all too familiar rejection, Chris explained.
“Chris,” Glenys said in surprise. Afternoon sunlight spilled in through the window behind her, brightening the green and pink of her ‘private parlor’. Really it was just the room where she liked to enjoy afternoon tea while skimming silly magazines and talking with his father. Years and years ago he’d wondered how they never got bored just talking. It was no longer a mystery, though talking wasn’t Sable’s favorite activity. “What in the world are you doing here? Are you on a case? Did Sable actually have something else to do?” She smiled as she said the last.
Chris rolled his eyes. “I’m not allowed to drop in and visit my parents?”
Daniel mimicked his son. “You’re up to something.”
Resisting the urge to stick his tongue out, something only his father ever made him feel like doing, Chris rolled his eyes again and gave up. “As it happens, I have a surprise for both of you.” He’d been working years on this surprise, trying and failing for longer than he liked. The constant lack of success had been pissing him off for ages. Now, though…
“A surprise?” Glenys asked. “What on earth are you up to, Chris?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Chris said with forced patience. Damn he hated when people asked that. He crossed the room and took the delicate green china teacup from his mother’s hands, then tugged her gently to her feet. At least she was dressed as beautifully and carefully as always. She’d have killed him if he’d come while she was still in her robe and slippers.
He turned to glare at his father. “You. No cheating.”
Daniel gave him an affronted look and did not deign to reply. Only his father could manage to look so thoroughly intimidating while being transparent and standing in front of seashell pink curtains.
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes again, Chris kept hold of his mother’s hand and led them through the house to the back. He threw the back door open with a flourish and motioned for them to precede him onto the wide porch.
Beyond the porch was the garden his mother had finally let him pay for – a gazebo, fishpond complete with little footbridge, more plants and flowers and trees than he had names for. It looked exactly as it had when his father had been alive.
All around the clearing before the gazebo were her friends, Sable, and Chris’s detectives.
Blake broke away from where he’d been talking to Sable and took Glenys’ hand. Dressed now as a priest, he bore little resemblance to the scattered young man Chris had helped only days ago. Blake kissed the back of Glenys’ hand. “You must be the lovely bride. I can see where your son gets his looks.” His eyes flicked to Daniel, and he bowed his head in greeting. “Sir.”
Glenys stared at Blake, around the packed garden – then burst into tears and threw herself into her son’s arms. “Chrissie! How—I can’t believe—“
Chris hugged his mom tight and smiled in a way that few ever saw. He kissed his mom’s cheek and held her, looking over her shoulder at his father, who merely smiled and nodded. Giving his mother another peck on the cheek, Chris finally pushed her gently away. “Come on, now. We’d best get started before somebody makes me find their lost cat or something.”
“You!” Glenys reached up to kiss his cheek and tug fondly at a strand of hair. They waited on the porch a moment as everyone settled into place, then Chris offered his arm and led his mother to where Blake and Daniel waited at the gazebo.
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Date: 2007-02-14 11:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-14 12:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-14 02:41 pm (UTC)awww
Date: 2007-02-14 02:43 pm (UTC)and it's great you finally tied up this loose end. you really don't miss a thing, do you? i guess that's also partially why i love reading your stuff so much. this pretty and unexpected closure just about did me in.
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Date: 2007-02-14 03:19 pm (UTC)...
of the slashy kind.
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Date: 2007-02-14 11:17 pm (UTC)LMAO. He'll probably get the slashy kind regardless. Tygati made threats to my person if I dared to make him het.
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Date: 2007-02-14 11:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-15 04:12 am (UTC)Blake likes pretty blond boys who are exhibitionists and have no concept of personal space and non-public groping.
^____________________________^
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Date: 2007-02-14 03:38 pm (UTC)Happy Puddle Mode GO!
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Date: 2007-02-14 04:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-14 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-14 04:59 pm (UTC)Also, love Blake. Would be supercool if he ever showed up again. *pause* I love how I'm just assuming there will be more someday. This universe is way too awesome to ever leave. ^_^
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Date: 2007-02-14 07:18 pm (UTC)(And starting off with a naked Chris and then the half-elf priest wasn't half-bad either. ^__~)
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Date: 2007-02-14 09:31 pm (UTC)*wails*
*cries*
That was so sweeeeeeeeeeeetttttttttttttttttt!!
Happy Valentine's Day!
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Date: 2007-02-15 03:17 am (UTC)I don't know what's cuter, that Chris's parents finally were able to get married or Blake, the half-elf priest (oh, dear lord, that boy needs a story. *_______* Yeah, I don't think we'll ever stop pestering you for stories in this verse. XD)
Oh so sweet and oh so perfect! *hearts* You rock the world! ^_________________^!!!!
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Date: 2007-02-15 03:51 am (UTC)It would be nice if the elf mentioned is Blake's father. *sigh*
Daniel and Glenys finally get a wedding day. *pets the Chris for being such a good son*
Is dieing of the sugar but..
Thankyou thankyou thankyou.
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Date: 2007-02-15 03:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-15 04:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-15 04:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-15 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-17 09:58 am (UTC)Oh, yes. Half-elven priest. Mmmm... The potential of it all!
Sweet Valentine's Day fic! Chris' mom and dad make it official--so sweet I can cry.