A MINOTAUR IN NEW ORLEANS: Part 5

AS IF NICO had seen them coming, the door opened and he stood there, barefoot and sleepy-eyed. "Hey."
   "Nico, Phoebe. Phoebe, Nico." Z.J. slid past Nico with Phoebe and, as Nico bemusedly shut the door, Z.J. glimpsed the horned shadow standing across the street.
   "Hey, Phoebe." Nico smiled suavely.
   "Your gran home, Nico?" Z.J. backed toward the china cabinet.
   "No. she's playing bocci ball with her friends at Crew's Bar--what are you doing?"
   "This is real silver, right?"
   "Uh . . . I'm supposing."
    Phoebe snatched a butter knife from Z.J. and checked it. "It's real silver."
   Something struck the door. Nico whirled. "What--"
   "Nico." Z.J. dumped two drawers of silverware on the table. "I need you to take some forks and knives and just hold onto them."
   Nico turned and stared at him. "Z.J. . . what's going on? Are you messing with me?"
   "This is real." Phoebe grabbed a handful of forks and glanced at Z.J. "Does silver really work?"
   "Put it at every window and door--"
   Something shattered in the kitchen. Nico swore.
   Z.J. and Phoebe turned to stare into the kitchen.
   "They can't get in unless they're invited, right?" Phoebe whispered.
   "Hey." Nico's voice was weak. "Are you guys being chased by, like, a werewolf?"
   The front door flew open, slamming against the wall behind it.
   The man who stood in the doorway was young despite the white hair pouring over his shoulders. He was also a giant. He wore jeans and a T-shirt. A belt of what looked like teeth draped his hips. His eyes flashed silver as his gaze drifted from Nico, to Z.J., to Phoebe. He pointed at Phoebe with one sharp silver fingernail. "I want her."
   Nico panicked and flung a handful of silver spoons at the intruder.
   The intruder stumbled back from the threshold. Z.J. saw a crevice open up across his face and the shadow of a horn twist from the white hair.
   Z.J. lunged with a silver fork in each hand and slammed them into the Fata's chest. The white-haired man shoved him back and Z.J. fell back into the house. He saw the Fata gripping the forks in his chest and yanking them out. Z.J. kicked the door shut.
   There were eight windows and two entrances to the house. The three of them scrambled to set handfuls of silver at each.
   When they were done, they slouched on the sofa together, staring blankly at the wide screen TV which was set to HGTV.
   "Was that the Devil?" Nico asked.
   Z.J. exchanged a look with Phoebe, who sat between them. She said, "Why isn't he trying to get back in?"
   "Probably licking his wounds." Z.J. had peered out the windows and seen no sign of the Fata.
   "You asshole." Nico took a deep breath and twisted to glare at Z.J. "How long you've known about things like that monster?"
   "Since I was sixteen." Z.J. was surprised it didn't hut anymore, that memory of the dark, and the terror, and the blood . . .  Anger surged though him. He stood and faced Phoebe. "Why is it chasing you?"
   "I don't know. I thought she sent him."
   "No." Z.J. rubbed his head. "No."
   "How do you know/' Phoebe demanded. "How long have you known her, this Clementine? She's one of their queens--"
   "She doesn't have the vibe." Z.J. narrowed his eyes at Phoebe. "She asked me to find you, to help you."
   With Nico open-mouthed and Phoebe sitting up straight, Z.J. told them about the Black Scissors, who was a witch doctor, Shaman, and spiritualist, and cursed with immortality by a Fata queen. He told them how the Black Scissors had come to him one night, after Z.J. had encountered a bad Fata.
   He didn't tell them about the hospital, about the terrible scars on his back that Nico thought were from a car accident, about what he'd lost that night, two years ago. He told them what the Fats were, the children of Night and Nothing and all the tribal names given them around the world.
   Nico called his grandmother and asked her to stay overnight at a friend's. Z.J. could hear her demanding to know why.
   "Just do me a favor and stay at Mimi's, okay? No. No. I don't have a girl here." He sighed. "Okay, I had a party and I've got to clean up."
   Nico set down his cell and gazed resignedly at Z.J. "So what's out there? What kind of demon or fairy spirit or whatever?"
   "It's the minotaur," Phoebe spoke up at the same time that Z.J. said, "It's a minotaur."
   The minotaur didn't attack again. They huddled on the sofa, taking turns sleeping, until daylight cast the darkness away.
                                                                  ***
  

A MINOTAUR IN NEW ORLEANS: Part 4

Z.J. DIDN'T invite Nico to the Fata party at The Beautiful House, the lure Clementine had set up for the girl foolishly hunting her.
   He didn't have much in the way of fine clothing and he couldn't afford to buy any. He selected a long-sleeved gray crew shirt from the back of his closet, his newest jeans, and his best boots. He didn't see the point of going armed, but he put one of the silver misericorde daggers in his left boot.
   As he approached The Beautiful House, he studied the guests handing their invitations to Bruce. They were all young. Most were mortal. A few moved with unnatural grace and their eyes flashed silver. As he handed Bruce the invite, he asked, "Did you send one to the girl you want me to catch?"
   Bruce looked at him sternly. "Of course not. She'll find a way in. Clementine says she's resourceful."
   Z.J. sauntered into the enormous lobby while Blues music swept over the people mingling and conversing in evening finery with an antique flair. The doors to the public courtyard were flung wide and more people drifted in and out.
   Clementine had given him a picture of the girl. She looked so ordinary, no older than he was, a girl who should be enjoying her final year of high school. He was worried for her. Very worried. If she did something--
   --and he saw her, suddenly, standing awkwardly in a white dress that reminded him of something Alice in Wonderland might wear, with a rhinestone headband in her short russet hair.
   She didn't know, then, that the Fatas knew.
   Z.J. moved toward her, from the side, so she wouldn't see him coming.
   But she was wary as a deer. Her gaze flicked over the crowd and met his. He attempted a smile.
   She bolted.
   He swore and slid after her, into the lobby, where the moody light flared silver in some eyes. He never got used to that, and a shiver ran through him.
   He saw Phoebe heading for Clementine. He saw a glint in the girl's hand--
   He shoved aside a girl in white velvet and nearly knocked down a young man with red curls. He lunged and caught hold of the girl intent on murder. She whirled on him, wide-eyed.
   "No," he told her.
   She grimaced and tried to jerk away. He whispered, "Way to draw more attention to yourself."
   She gave up. Aware of the Fata queen's eyes upon him, he led her away from Clementine and into the public courtyard. When they had moved into a spot where they wouldn't be overheard, he said softly, "Phoebe. I'm Z.J.--"
   "You're one of theirs." She spoke through clenched teeth.
   "I'm not. But you were about to attack one of their queens and I'm here to stop that mistake."
   "My brother disappeared because of her. He's missing."
   "And how will killing her bring him back? She doesn't know where he is. He left her."
   "So she says." Phoebe was trembling. He realized that what she'd been holding, now tucked into her hair--a silver needle. She asked, "What are you?"
   What was he? Border patrol? An ambassador? A shaman? He spoke the truth, "Taltu."
   She clearly had never heard of them. She narrowed her eyes. "You are one of theirs. A traitor."
   "Your brother went to Clementine willingly."
   Her eyes widened as she focused on something behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw several of the queen's young elegants heading their way.
   He grabbed Phoebe's hand and they ran.
   They went over the wall. Z.J. heaved her up. She grabbed the branch of an oak and swung over. He followed. They raced up the street.
   "Car?" She looked back at him.
   "No," he told her. "I took the bus."
   She stopped running and cast him a look. He pointed at her. "Don't be judgy with me. Where are you staying?"
   She looked lost. "Nowhere."
   "Where are you keeping your things?"
   "In a backpack behind a school--" She broke off and went pale.
   At first, he smelled it, a rank odor like dirty, blood-stained ice. But there was, beneath the reek, a flowery fragrance, even more disturbing. His Greek grandmother had once had a tree in her yard, a fig, and this is what he smelled when it blossomed.
   "It's here," Phoebe whispered.
   Z.J. bent and drew the misericorde from his boot. "What's here?"
   "The monster."
   He didn't ask her why she called it a monster. He turned his head.
   Following a block behind was an inhumanly tall shadow, its fingers too long and too sharp. Its head was strangely shaped, a 'V' forming two points. He knew what it was. He had seen its kind before.
   He and Phoebe ran.
   When they turned a corner and Z.J. saw Nico's grandmother's shotgun house, he caught Phoebe's hand. "There."
   They ran toward it.
                                                                        ***

A MINOTAUR IN NEW ORLEANS: Part 3

PHOEBE had seen her.
   The busy French Quarter was the one place Phoebe felt safe at night from the thing that was hunting her. She was shyly sliding past a flock of honey-haired girls in little dresses and platform sandals when she saw the regal girl moving through the crowds like a queen of the Nile. How could anyone not notice the silver shine of her eyes, the inhuman grace with which she and her four companions moved, as if they'd walked the earth for centuries, immortal monsters in human-like skins?
   One of the young men swept his silver gaze across the crowd. A diamond glinted in the side of his nose and his skin glimmered. Phoebe looked quickly away and tried to hide herself in the mass of people.
   The queen and her shadows moved onward and Phoebe followed.
                                                                   ***
Z.J. worked in his mother's shop on weekends. He liked to organize the various tourist trap junk, as well as the authentic voodoo/hoodoo/Wiccan/New Age items. The shop sold candles, spooky dolls, books, Tarot cards, and chintzy souvenirs. He'd convinced her to carry other items, which made her eye him warily sometimes, as if she worried he'd joined some sort of cult.
   After last night's weirdness, he needed normalcy.
   The girl who entered the shop before sunset looked fifteen, her dark blonde hair in two braids. She glanced at him, nodded once. He nodded back. She began to wander around the shop, hands in the back pockets of her jeans. She selected a deck of the most expensive cards and he moved behind the counter as she walked to him. She set the cards down and shrugged off her plaid backpack. "How much are these?"
   "Thirty bucks." He squinted at her face. "Do I know you?"
   "I'm visiting from New York."
   "Where in New York?" He rang up the cards.
   "Fair Hollow."
   He froze. He met her gaze. He supposed she looked alarmed because he did.
   Fair Hollow. Where a Fata version of a very dark A Midsummer Night's Dream had played out.
   "I was there," he ventured. "Two years ago."
   "Were you? I'm Anna." She held out her hand.
   "Z.J." He had a feeling she knew. He tapped the Tarot cards. "Can you really use these?"
   "They're for a friend." He realized her gaze was fastened on the black scissors tattoo he and the other taltu wore to let the Fatas know they'd best behave.
   She leaned forward and whispered, "Are they here, too?"
   "Silver eyes? Shadowy? Love/hate relationship with poetry? Yeah, Anna, they're here."
   She solemnly accepted the Tarot cards and receipt. "I don't see them anymore."
   "Anymore?"
   She shrugged. "I can sense them, but only if they want me to."
   "The ones I met here"--He thought of elegant and lovely Clementine--"seem okay."
   She nodded. "Someone told me once that the one who rules here came from Ethiopia. That she's one of the good ones."
   "Who told you--"
   She shook her head and looked wistful. "I had friends, once, among them. Things changed. Good bye, Z.J."
   He watched as she left.
                                                                    ***