Page 26 of By the Fae

“Under no circumstances whatsoever are you allowed to,” I said, drawing out the last part so she understood I was being serious, “fall in love with me.”

Holly wrapped her arms around her stomach and burst into laughter. “No problem,” she said, wiping away tears. “And, uh, ditto.”

Chapter 9.

Goldie

I found Dima in his bedroom. Black shoulder length hair, moonlight-pale skin, blood-red eyes, and fangs. He'd been in his early twenties when he was turned so was eternally baby-faced. He stood next to his couch, an army of floating quilts hovered in front of him like a sports-team line-up of colourful, patchwork ghosts. Dima never sat down. A vampire thing, I think. I didn’t know any other vampires, so I had no one to compare him with. But he only ever sat for three reasons. Either he was trying to make Sugar Paste feel more at ease, he was ‘having dinner’ with us, or he was high.

He fixed his definitely-not-creepy eyes on me. “Sure, I’ll do it,” he said, answering my unspoken question out loud.

I may not have known many vampires, but I was aware that Dima’s twin gifts of telepathy and telekinesis were extremely rare. So rare in fact, no one, apart from his flatmates, knew about them. Telepathy, especially, came with many rules and regulations. Invited too many questions. Inspired too much jealousy. So much so, Dima had shunned his own kind in favour of us three. Now four if you included Sugar Paste.

“But you know what I want in return,” he said, a smile slipping across his deathly white cheeks.

And I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what Dima would accept as payment. “Sure. But can you tidy it now? She’s coming over tomorrow.”

“Ooh, this is exciting.” He let his quilts drift over to the couch and surged behind me out of his room, evidently forgetting to lift his legs and feet as he ‘walked’.

“What makes this one different?” he said to me once we got to my bedroom. “Why don’t you simply glamour over the mess like you usually do?”

I shrugged, and waited for Dima’s minty mind-reading presence, but it never arrived. “I’m doing this for her, to help her.” Though, the truth was, I had no idea why I wanted the room tidy instead of using my magic. It was a different situation. Holly was different from the people I normally brought home.

His grin returned. A black bin-bag opened itself up, and all at once items rose from the floor, zooming about the room. Placing themselves back on shelves, throwing themselves into the trash bag. The bed clothes stripped themselves. The curtain pole righted itself. The windows flew open, letting the cool night air rush in. The rug shook decades of accumulated dust into the dark city. Cleaning products arrived from the kitchen cupboard and wiped down the surfaces and mirrors. A duster floated about, brushing things. Dima hummed to himself, tapping the top of his thigh with his fingers. My clothes, along with the bedsheets, hurtled past my hip out the door and down the stairs as though strung to an invisible thread.

“You might have to do two washes. And Taur’s got some of his work stuff in the machine at the moment. I’ve left your stuff in the baskets.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said, unable to take my eyes away from the actual living space emerging from the mess. “Wow.” I crossed the room and ran my finger along the shelf. It had maybe been a quarter of a century since I had a properly tidy bedroom. Since we all moved into this apartment when it was first built.

As a finishing flurry, Dima brought up a vase with some of Mal’s cut flowers, yellow and purple, not sure what they were but they smelled impressive, and placed them on my chest of drawers.

“You’re helping her?” Dima nodded at his job well done and floated himself out of the room. I followed behind him. “How will you be helping her, exactly?”

He could have invaded my thoughts and gotten the answer straight away, but I appreciated the fact that he always tried with us.

“She likes a guy at work.” I sat myself on the sofa opposite the TV and pulled the dented tin out from underneath it. “But he’s fae, obviously, and she’s human, and she wants me to show her how fae men like to fuck.”

“Isn’t that the same as how human men like it?”

“Exactly the same.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “And what’s in it for you?”

“Other than no strings fucking? She’s going to help me with my game. There’s tenure on the line, and I’ll be fucked if Seth gets tenure before me.”

I rolled a joint, lit it, and took a drag. I rolled another two, one standard-sized, and one at least triple that, and tucked them both back inside the tin.

“Ready?” I said to Dima, taking another lungful and holding it inside. Vampires couldn’t smoke weed, not in the way people with functioning lungs usually did. So Dima’s repayment for any favours he did for us was always to get high by proxy.

He nodded, his fangs unsheathing themselves.

“Okay, I’ve got one for you. Drink a pint of Taur’s sweat, or eat a bowl of his hair?” Dima said, now laid out on the smaller couch. Though if I looked carefully, I could make out at least an inch of space between his body and the sofa cushions. He obviously couldn’t help himself from floating.

I watched the little bloody crescents on my wrist scab over, the scabs flake free, and the redness vanishing into normal unblemished skin once again. Thank the Gods for my rapidly healing fae body.

“Drink a pint of his sweat. What about you?” I said.

“Both would make me violently ill, so whichever is easier to bring back up. Probably the sweat.”

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