Box of Frogs

  He stomped towards me. ‘What are you doing?’ he shouted, finding his voice.

  I read the details on the small card. ‘Julian Mayweather,’ I said aloud. ‘23 Grand Bellock Road, Manchester. Date of birth…’ I paused. ‘Wow, you look younger than you really are. Do you use Botox?’

  His steps faltered. ‘What do you want?’ he whispered. ‘What are you really after?’

  ‘I told you,’ I said pleasantly. ‘I want you to be a better driver.’ I waved his driver’s licence in the air before tossing it in his direction. ‘If not, I know where I can find you. I might just pop in from time to time to make sure you’re behaving.’

  I reached up and patted him on the shoulder. He flinched in response. That was weird. It made an odd kind of sense that people who knew who I was were afraid of me – or at least of my connection with the mysterious Rubus – but this guy didn’t know me from Adam. Yet I’d still managed to terrify him into submission with very little effort. It had to be my demeanour, I decided. Yep. I was evil through and through.

  Whistling, I returned to my car and closed the door before pointedly clicking my seatbelt into position. It was important to abide by the laws of the land. Then I checked my rear-view mirror and started: the face I’d started to get used to wasn’t looking back at me. I was no longer Madrona of the pale skin, freckles and mousy brown hair; the face in the mirror was that of a swarthy man with a bushy beard, harsh eyes and, when I glanced down at my body, the most enormous bulging biceps.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was strange. I still felt the same. I still sounded the same. When I parked Julie’s car, got out and tried to lift it, my pathetic lack of strength was the same as ever. Most of my upper torso and right arm were still in agony from the poisoned cut on my finger, so that hadn’t changed along with the rest of me. Neither did I feel like a thirty-something man and, when I scratched my chin, my skin felt as smooth as usual. Yet, in the mirror, I still looked like a thirty-something Hell’s Angel, with a ridiculous scratchy beard, who should know better. Apart from my eyes, that was. They were still a bright Fey green despite the hard light which shone within them.

  Not taking anything for granted – after all, Julie might have bewitched her car mirrors along with the blood-magic imbued NDA – I went into a public toilet in the nearest shopping mall to double-check my reflection. Yep: I was still a burly male. No wonder the red-car arsebadger had seemed intimidated; I looked like a brute. I even had several missing teeth and a cauliflower ear. The attention to detail was extraordinary.

  Undoing the zip on my jeans, I peered down. Well, you would, wouldn’t you? A squat, ugly penis, surrounded by coarse black pubic hair, hung there. I jiggled my hips and the penis jiggled in turn. I was reaching for it, hoping to experiment to see how hard it was to aim correctly while peeing standing up, when the door opened and another woman entered. Comically, she froze and gazed at me open-mouthed before letting out a tiny squeak, whirling away and skedaddling as fast as her high heels would let her. I followed quickly, zipping myself up again. It wouldn’t be wise to find myself on the wrong side of the law for indecent exposure and entering the ladies’ restrooms when I was, apparently, a man.

  It was obvious what had happened: I’d stumbled across more of my superhero – or rather Fey – powers. I’d wished I could look like a swarthy man and now I did. The trouble was that I had no idea whether I could change back again. Amusing as this body was, I had zero desire to look like this in the long term. But it didn’t matter how hard I concentrated; I couldn’t seem to change myself back. I wondered if the genuine owner of my new body was now walking around somewhere looking like me. I had no idea how any of this worked.

  While I didn’t want to stay like this, I was beginning to enjoy it. I had to concentrate on walking in an appropriate fashion, strutting with my groin pushed out in front of me and my arms swinging. People took one glimpse at me and veered away. I was no longer the Madhatter; now I was the Mad Man – and, as Julie had suggested, it was far more fun playing the villain than the hero.

  I swaggered down the mall’s concourse. A small child wearing a pink frilly dress dropped her lollipop as I passed and started to cry. Her mother put out a protective arm to guard her against me. Even the security guard in front of one of the more well-heeled shops appeared intimidated. I could get used to this.

  I looked around. If Morgan thought I was evil – and if I looked evil – then, darn it, I was going to be evil. A girl needed to have some fun, after all.

  I wound out of the mall and headed down the street towards the Travotel. As I passed a row of parked cars, I thumped each one, setting off various car alarms. Their piercing shriek was remarkably gratifying. I swung left and entered the hotel, marched straight up to the front desk and leaned against it. I allowed myself a brief sweep with my eyes. No sign of any ugly goonies – not that they’d have spotted me even if they were here. There was some advantage to looking like a slightly pinker version of the Incredible Hulk.

  Although I recognised the woman behind the desk, she obviously didn’t recognise me. ‘Good morning, sir,’ she said with a forced smile. ‘How may I help you?’

  ‘I want to see the manager.’ The voice that came out of my mouth was entirely my own. Ah. Clearly it was only my appearance that had been altered. No wonder the red-car arsebadger had looked so flummoxed when I’d first spoken. I deepened my voice to a hoarse, gruff tone and tried again. ‘Get me Mike Timmons.’

  She blinked rapidly, revealing her nervousness. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

  I smiled at her and displayed my lack of good dentistry. ‘No. Tell him…’ I paused and thought about it. ‘Tell him Rubus is here to see him.’

  ‘He’s very busy,’ she began.

  ‘Look, lady,’ I said, enjoying myself immensely. ‘I want to see Mike Timmons and I want to see him now. When he hears that I’m waiting, he won’t be happy.’ I made a shooing motion. ‘Go and tell him.’ I checked my watch, realising too late that I wasn’t wearing one, although the Rolex I’d taken from one of the McNasties was still in my pocket. Then I simply growled, ‘He’s got five minutes.’

  Her eyes widened. I could tell she desperately wanted to tell me to piss off but fortunately, afraid of what I might be capable of if refused, she decided to do as I asked. She turned away and opened the door leading into an office behind her.

  I leaned over the desk and saw a nice pen on the other side. ‘I’m having this,’ I declared to no one in particular, swiping it and placing it in my pocket. I looked round. Unfortunately no one was in the lobby so my theft went unnoticed. Being evil was only really fun when other people were around to be horrified. Perhaps I could find an animal shelter and kick some kittens in front of would-be adopters. Then I grimaced; I was evil but I wasn’t that evil.

  The receptionist re-emerged. She kept her distance, even though the desk was already acting as a barrier between us. ‘Mr Timmons will be out shortly.’

  Again I checked my invisible watch. ‘He’s only got three minutes and twenty seconds,’ I said, making it up as I went along, ‘before I kick up some hell.’ I paused. ‘Make that three minutes and ten seconds. Nine seconds. Eight seconds.’ This could go on for some time.

  Towards my left there was a cough. I turned in its direction, spotting the man himself. ‘You … you’re not Rubus,’ Timmons stammered.

  I pasted on a gruesome smile and stalked towards him, my arms held out wide. Before he could do anything, I drew him into a massive bear hug, squeezing him tightly so that all the air was pushed out of his lungs. ‘Appearances can be deceptive,’ I murmured in his ear. After all, if Rubus and I were both Fey, it stood to reason that Rubus could alter his appearance just like I had. I could be him, regardless of how I looked.

  When I eventually released Timmons, he sprang backwards. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s been a long time. I didn’t recognise you immediately.’ He was virtually bowing and scraping at my feet. At least my ploy was working. ‘Come,’ he
said. ‘I’ll show you to my office.’

  I let him lead the way round the back of reception into a small, dingy room with only a tiny window to provide some natural light. Once inside, I stepped past him and sat at his desk. If he was thinking about arguing, it didn’t show on his face; he simply took the chair opposite.

  ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ he asked, twisting his hands in his lap.

  I lifted my legs onto his desk and crossed them at the ankle after kicking away some papers that were in my way. ‘Before we get into that,’ I drawled, trying to remember to alter my voice, ‘do you recognise me now?’ I had to be sure before I fully relaxed; those McNasty bastards might still be around.

  Timmons swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. ‘Rubus?’ he asked tentatively. ‘But obviously wearing a glamour.’ He swallowed again. ‘A very effective glamour, I might add. I’ve not seen one so well thought out before.’

  I regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, absorbing the word ‘glamour’ and wondering whether he was telling the truth about its effectiveness or merely massaging my ego. Either way, I had to take full advantage of this situation while Timmons still believed that I was big, scary Rubus. Whoever Rubus was, I knew that Timmons was afraid of him. I could work with that.

  ‘It has come to my attention,’ I said gruffly, ‘that you recently had dealings with one of my … employees.’

  Timmons’ green eyes flickered. ‘The Madhat— uh, Madrona. She was staying here, yes. But she sought me out, not the other way around. I would never approach one of your Fey, Rubus.’

  ‘Really?’ My voice was flat. ‘So you didn’t go to her room and demand that she gave you some dust?’

  ‘No! I wouldn’t do that!’

  Lying arsebadger. ‘Madrona is a much-trusted employee. She asserts quite the opposite.’ I regarded Timmons with a steely eye. ‘Is she lying then?’

  ‘I…’ He loosened his collar and coughed. ‘Um…’ His face fell. ‘I just wanted some dust.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  I nodded. ‘As you should be. I can’t abide liars.’ Taking a stab in the dark, based on what else I’d learned about this strange Fey society, I raised an eyebrow. ‘I see you’re also lying about your name.’

  ‘It’s not a lie!’ he protested. ‘The Fey know who I am. I couldn’t use my real name here. I’d never be taken seriously! Not by the humans anyway.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ I tried to look as if I knew exactly what he was talking about. ‘You real name being…’

  ‘Begonius.’

  Yeah, okay. I could see why he’d changed it. I didn’t have time to comment, though, because Timmons looked wildly from side to side and hastily interjected with an explanation of his own. ‘We’re supposed to maintain a low profile. We’re supposed to keep our true selves quiet.’

  ‘So we are.’ Maybe that was why altering time was frowned upon. With the proliferation of CCTV cameras in this country, any untoward or inexplicable action could be flagged up by powerful humans. Given what Julie had revealed about the vampire hunters, it made sense. The Fey probably possessed zero desire to be hunted down in the same manner. ‘Well,’ I continued, ‘you still lied to me. You also alerted others to Madrona’s presence.’

  Timmons’ panic flared further. ‘What? No! I didn’t tell anyone she was here!’

  ‘Then why did three gargoyles show up at her room moments after she left?’ I spat, watching his reaction carefully.

  ‘Three what?’ He paused. ‘Wait. The Redcaps. They were here for her?’

  What the gasbudlikins were Redcaps? Some other sort of supernatural being? Maybe humans didn’t exist at all; maybe everyone living here was something else entirely. I wasn’t sure I’d met anyone normal since I’d woken up on that bloody golf course. I sucked in a breath and tried to focus. ‘Who were they?’ I demanded. ‘Who were these Redcaps?’

  He shook his head, terrified. ‘I don’t know! I’d never seen them before! They showed up, ran through the hotel and then left. They were nothing to do with me, I promise! I didn’t even connect them to Madrona.’

  He wasn’t the brightest star in the sky – unless he frequently had grotesque creatures sprinting through his hotel during the day. But it seemed that he was telling the truth. He was too scared not to. Shame.

  ‘It doesn’t change the fact that you lied. We’ll have to find a way for you to make it up to me.’

  Timmons’ eagerness was pathetic. ‘Of course, of course! I’ll do whatever you want. You’re so amazing, Rubus. I’ll follow your lead. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.’

  Ick. I had the feeling that if I asked him to lick my shoes, he would. I tapped my mouth as if thinking deeply on the matter. ‘How about some nux?’

  Momentarily befuddled, he stared at me. ‘Nux?’

  ‘Yes.’ I drifted a lazy hand through the air. ‘Give me some nux and I can be persuaded to forget this little matter.’

  Timmons’ growing puzzlement transformed abruptly. He stood up, pushed his chair back and glared at me. ‘You’re not Rubus!’ he accused.

  Gasbudlikins. ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘No, you’re not. Rubus wouldn’t come to me for nux. You’re her! You’re Madrona!’ He pointed at me. ‘You thought you could fool me!’

  To be fair, I had fooled him. Just not for long enough. ‘Now, listen—’

  He shook his head in sudden, stubborn defiance. ‘Has Rubus excommunicated you? Is that why you’re here? Because I’m not helping one of his enemies.’ His mouth tightened. ‘No way. And how the hell are you maintaining that glamour? No faery – apart from maybe Rubus or Morganus – can keep up a spell of that intricacy for more than five or ten minutes. What are you?’ He said this last part as if I were a slug that had crawled into his cornflakes.

  ‘Stronger than you,’ I answered. ‘Obviously.’ I sighed. ‘Fine. If you won’t give me any nux then tell me where I can find Rubus.’ This other Fey who everyone kept mentioning couldn’t be that bloody scary. And no doubt I’d have to meet with the man sooner or later, especially as I supposedly worked for him.

  ‘I’m going to tell Morgan about this,’ Timmons or Begonius or whatever he wanted to be called said in a high-pitched whine.

  I gritted my teeth, suddenly irritated. ‘Morgan Shmorgan.’ I yanked my legs down from the desk and stood up before leaning across and grabbing Timmons’ collar. ‘I need nux,’ I hissed.

  ‘I don’t have any!’ he yelled in my face.

  I raised my hand to backhand him. I wasn’t intending to actually strike him he still staggered and clutched his face as if to protect his middling good looks. ‘You can’t do this. You can’t hurt me. The truce…’

  I was getting mightily fed up of being told what I could or could not do. ‘I don’t give two hoots about the stupid truce,’ I said. My grip tightened on him, my fingers digging through the material of his shirt and into his skin.

  Timmons began to shake. If this was what most Fey were like, it was a wonder we’d survived this long. ‘You’re not a good person at all,’ he whispered.

  I rolled my eyes and wished I didn’t feel sorry for the ridiculous man. He’d tried to intimidate me when it suited him but now he was a blubbering wreck. He was the worst kind of bully, using his own fear to manipulate those weaker than himself while brown-nosing anyone stronger. I might be evil but at least I was trying to be honest with myself. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m not a good person.’ There was a strange wrench in my stomach. ‘But they say only the good die young. I’d rather be bad and live longer.’

  Timmons cowered. I was highly tempted to slap him properly. Waterboarding was an option. I glanced back at his desk; maybe I could use the stapler on his hamster-like cheeks. Or pull out his fingernails. There had to be a pair of pliers around here somewhere.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whined. ‘I don’t have any nux. I don’t know where Rubus is. All I wanted was some dust, a little pick-me-up to keep me going. The ac
he is so bad. I’ve not had dust for months and when I saw you were staying here I thought you’d come to sell me some. I’m sticking to the rules. Don’t hurt me.’ He covered his face with his hands. ‘Please don’t hurt me.’

  Good grief. Forget kicking kittens, this was like throwing sharpened daggers at a defenceless baby. I cursed to myself then gently pressed Timmons back into the chair. ‘You need to grow a spine,’ I told him sternly. ‘What kind of Fey are you?’

  ‘The good kind!’ he sobbed.

  ‘Then act like it,’ I snapped. ‘When we first met, you virtually threatened me to get what you wanted. Then, when you thought I was Rubus, you grovelled like a worm.’

  ‘I don’t understand. What do you want from me?’

  I pulled his hands away from his face. ‘I want you to be yourself. If you need dust, go and get some bloody dust. If you want to be a good faery, be a goddamned good faery. Don’t compromise yourself or your morals.’

  Timmons stared at me. ‘Huh?’

  ‘You feel the ache for home. Of…’ I struggled with the words ‘…Fey Land. Everyone feels that ache. We all miss it.’

  Tears filled his eyes. ‘It hurts.’ He clutched at his chest. ‘It hurts in here.’

  ‘I know,’ I soothed. ‘But you’re not alone. Meet with others. Form a support group or something. Draw strength from each other.’

  ‘Yes.’ He bit his lip and nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, that’s a good idea. A support group. I can do that. People would like that. Other Fey would like that.’

  ‘You need to stand up for yourself, too. This is your office, Begonius. You shouldn’t have let me sit in your chair in your office.’