Faeling

Merritt’s eyes went wide. She’s a human, was all he could think again and again until, I just told her the passphrase.

“Shit.”

She started to back away from him, saying, “I’m just gonna go now, okay?” in what she seemed to think was a soothing voice.

“No, no, wait, Oz...” He racked his mind for an excuse. He couldn’t remember being this flustered... Ever. “I just thought you’d know what I meant. It’s just a joke from David’s group of friends. He runs a Shakespeare book-club.” She raised her eyebrow like she didn’t believe him. Fortunately, the passphrase was almost always Shakespeare, so most faelings had read the majority of his works. Still, Merritt would have to warn David that he’d invented a book club. He kicked himself for ignoring the rules about meeting a faeling you hadn’t confirmed yet. There were other ways to tell who was of fae and who wasn’t, but in public the passphrase was easiest. Still, you weren’t supposed to blurt it out to everyone you met on the street.

But she’d been in the coffee shop... Merritt knew that not everyone there was a faeling—especially during such a storm—but Jennifer clearly knew who Oz was. It wasn’t like the coffee shop was a safe-house or anything, but because the owner and employees were all of fae, it became a popular meeting place for their kind. Merritt had never known Jessica or David to be friendly with any humans—no matter how often they came in for coffee.

If also didn’t explain how she’d been able to ignore his mental touches. Merritt couldn’t read minds or force people to do things, just push them a bit in the right direction. His looks and easy charm usually sealed the deal.

Except for this time. He’d just told a human the passphrase, and he was fairly certain she was about ten seconds from pepper-spraying him and running.

“Look,” he said to her softly, adopting a slightly defeated air, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I liked your artwork, and was going to take you on a date to discuss a business proposition.” She still looked cautious, but seemed less likely to flee. “My friend and I own a gallery in the city. I’d like to see some of your work and maybe get you exhibition.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Just because you saw some sketches I had with me?” She still seemed suspicious.

“Maybe,” he said, reluctantly. “I would have to see more of your work, like I said.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted, “But I’ll need to get to know you a bit first. I don’t work with artists I don’t know—too many of them can be flakey buffoons.” Merritt made a show of eying her as if unsure he wanted her after all. He felt a slight swell of triumph as she turned pink.

“I have plenty of paintings. Probably more than enough to do an exhibition all on my own. I can hardly walk through my apartment there are so many cluttering up the floor.” She looked up at him, her eyes much softer now. It was clear that this was something she wanted badly.

“Would you be able to show them to me?” Merritt asked. He realized it wasn’t entirely professional to ask to come to a young woman’s apartment, but he needed to ask her more about where she’d seen his symbol. His heart thudded frightfully in his chest just thinking about it. This girl might have answers, he thought. She was the first lead he’d found... Ever.

“Uhm...” She bit her lip, clearly battling with herself. “Yes,” she said hesitantly, and his heart leapt into his throat before she amended, “but not right now. I actually have to go.”

He felt the opportunity slip through his fingers. He was determined to make this happen.

“What’s so important that you’re willing to put off your art career?” He asked coldly.

She blinked at him as he pushed her mind. “I have a dog-walking job.”

“A dog-walking job?” He asked, incredulous. Merritt shook his head. “Fine,” he decided shortly, “I’ll come with you.

She raised both eyebrows at that. “With me?” He nodded. “I’m not going to change your mind, am I?” He shook his head. “Okay,” she said, her voice resigned, “but don’t send me the dry-cleaning bill if you get mud on your suit.”

He smirked at her and gestured for her to lead the way. She sighed and began to walk down the street.

“So,” she asked conversationally, “do you work at your gallery full-time, or is it more of a side-project?”

“I’m in politics, actually,” he said smoothly. And I’m damn good at it.

“Ah,” she replied quietly, her eyebrows raising in a way that made it rather clear that she wasn’t entirely pleased with that.

He quickly changed the subject, putting the focus on her. “And what do you do for a living?”

She tilted her head back and forth as though considering the most concise answer. “Lots of little odd-jobs, really. I walk dogs and take graphic design jobs where I can and try to sell my paintings. Lately I’ve drawn and sold a lot of portraits. The one I was working on in the coffee shop was actually meant to be a present from my friend to her mother—it’s her mum’s favorite picture of Janna’s late father.” He nodded in understanding, hoping he was winning her over. “Uhm, I also sort of bake pies. There are a few little places in town who agreed to sell them. It’s not huge, but it helps pay the bills… And I nanny from time to time—when people need me. That’s it, really.”

He chuckled lightly and she gave him a look that could easily turn into a glare. “That’s it?” He asked, “are you sure there aren’t any more jobs?” He gave her another butterfly-inducing grin to let her know he was teasing. Again, it seemed to have little effect on her. “Now,” he said in a slightly more business-like tone (not that his voice was ever far from business-like), “do you have a manager who I should be speaking with about the possibility of you showing an exhibition at our gallery?”

“Uhm,” she stuttered, her cheeks going rosy again. “It’s actually my friend Janna Mason. She’s young, but she’s always had a brilliant business mind—she was top of her class at Harvard, and frankly, she’s doing me a favor even paying me any mind business-wise. She’s the one who’s been getting me graphi-“ she stoutly defended her friend before Merritt interrupted.

“Janna Mason?”

She stopped in her tracks and answered as though it was a question. “Yes?”

“The Janna Mason?”

She laughed this time. “Yes. I guess she’s making more of a splash in the business community than I gave her credit for.”

He nodded solemnly. Not only was Janna Mason one of the biggest up-and-comers in the local business population, but she was also a faeling.