1
Fin
The human world has no redeeming features. It’s noisy and full of people. While the other riders think I volunteered to come here and fight the creatures that break free of faery, it was more of a forced volunteering situation.
A way for me to save face.
Now that I’ve been here more than a year, I think I’d have rather been shamed to the first outer realm, at least then I’d still be in faery.
I’ve been tracking some poenpoeth for most of the day. They’d hopped out of the river like overgrown, fanged, furred frogs and made their way downtown, pausing only to dumpster dive for food.
That pause gave me enough time to take out two of the pack, or should that be colony? I have no idea what to call them, but I do know enough to stay clear of their stinger. I have a welt the size of a fist on my arm as a reminder. I swear the bastards are full of lava or something because my arm is hot and painful to touch.
I’m tempted to quit the hunt and walk away, but if left to roam the poenpoeth will cause havoc and hurt people and then there will be a bigger mess for me to clean up. Then I’ll need to call another rider and I’ll be chewed out for not doing my job. I don’t want to be that guy. The other riders take their job very seriously.
No doubt they all want a tale to tell when they go home about the biggest, baddest monster they slayed. They’ll leave out the bits where they got wounded. They’ll skip the bites, the blood, and the fear.
I wait for a poenpoeth to stick its head out of a dumpster, then take the shot. The crossbow pings, the poenpoeth looks up, then the arrow slices through its head and it explodes in a cloud of black soot.
The poenpoeths on the roof chatter at me as though distressed. If they went back to faery, I wouldn’t need to hunt them, and we could all get on with our lives. I load another arrow, expecting them to jump down and attack me, but they disappear from sight.
Not good.
I curse and shove the crossbow beneath my jacket, before retrieving the used silver tipped bolt and getting on my bike. I cruise slowly around the block, keeping my eye on the roofline, waiting for the little yellow striped assholes to jump down and make a nuisance of themselves.
After driving down three sides of the block I can’t go any further, as it’s a pedestrian only mall, no vehicles. I park the bike and get off, not really wanting to give chase on foot.
“Fuck me,” I mutter under my breath and hope I don’t look like a deranged serial killer. If I’m pulled up by a cop, I’ll either have to use my magic which I don’t like doing, or be bailed out by a rider, which means I’ll owe them drinks.
I might hate it here, and hate this job, but I do not like being seen as incompetent.
This time of day the shops are in the process of bringing in their signs and closing. Only a few people drift through the mall holding shopping bags. A man strides through on the phone. At least there won't be too many witnesses.
I watch the roofline, hoping the furry little shits show themselves soon. But for all I know, they could be on the other side of the block and hopping away while I’m on the wrong side. I don’t know how smart they are, but too smart is the short answer. I’m debating climbing onto the roof when one bounds down to street level and hops through the mall.
None of the humans turn to stare at the knee high bright yellow creature. As faery creatures go, they aren’t too bad to deal with. They will only sting if they are attacked, but people will ask questions when things start to happen.
The humans will only see me shooting at nothing. They’ll call the cops thinking I’m a danger when in fact I’m keeping them safe.
Two more poenpoeth leap down, one lands on a table the café hasn’t brought in yet, and the table unbalances and falls over. That makes people turn and look. In a panic, the poenpoeth then takes out both chairs before getting free of the metal legs and joining its friends.
The humans have paused and are looking around. I mimic them, and only when they shrug do I move on. I don’t want them to notice me, because if asked they’ll talk about the dangerous man, not the way things were falling over all by themselves.
The poenpoeth see me and hop away as though remembering I’m the man after them. If I knew how to herd them back to faery, I would. Each bounce takes them further away from my bike. Chasing them on foot through the city is going to suck.
I glance around and make sure no one is watching, then pull out the small crossbow from beneath by jacket and take out two more of the creatures.
Behind me I hear several more land with heavy thuds.
One sting isn’t fatal, but if they all stung me, I’m pretty sure the amount of swelling would do me in. I run, leaving the bolts on the ground near the inky dust that will be gone by morning.
I scan the shops, looking for one that is open.
The poenpoeth are getting closer. Six, I think from the sound of their bounds. I can’t shoot that fast.
I see a shop door propped open and rush in, shutting it behind me. The poenpoeth chatter on the other side. Two hop closer, their stinger distended with displeasure.
Well, if you fuckers had stayed in faery, we’d all be a lot happier.
“The shop is closed,” a woman’s voice says from behind me.
I turn. It’s then I realize where I am. I’m in a store that sells fairy paraphernalia. This is what humans think faery is like. All glitter and gauze. Wings and wands.
The woman is dressed in a lilac gown that floats around her. She has wings and a tiara, and she looks like she’s about to hex me into next year.
