The Eclective: The Celtic Collection

The Celtic Collection

  The Eclective

  Copyright © 2012 by the Eclective

  The six authors in this collection retain and hold their individual respective rights to their stories.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

  Cover Art by Jack Wallen

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Shéa MacLeod—Irish Kiss

  M. Edward McNally—The Luck of the Irish Brigade

  Heather Marie Adkins—Song of the Banshee

  Jack Wallen—The Red Veil of Vengeance

  P.J. Jones—Zombies Eat Leprechauns

  Alan Nayes—Five Shamrocks

  The Eclective

  Irish Kiss

  Shéa MacLeod

  “You can’t be serious.” I gave Kabita a death glare across her desk before turning my attention back to our prospective client who was lounging in the chair next to me.

  Many strange clients had walked through the doors of Kabita Jones’s private investigation firm where I worked as a vampire hunter, demon spawn slayer, and general bad-guy ass-kicker. But seriously? This latest client pretty much took the cake for weirdness.

  “Oh, I am quite serious, I assure you.” He folded his hands calmly over his slightly rounded stomach and returned my glare measure-for-measure from under his bushy red eyebrows.

  “You want us to find your … ” I couldn’t say it. I really couldn’t say it. “ … pot of gold,” I finally choked out. It was all I could do not to bust a gut laughing. I’d finally heard it all. Next he’d want me to follow a damn rainbow or something.

  “Yes. I want you to find my pot of gold.”

  “Mr. O’Leery is one of the Leprechaun people, Morgan,” Kabita interrupted. Her voice was calm and even, but her eyes promised murder and mayhem if I didn’t behave. She was probably afraid I’d open my big mouth and say something stupid. She was right to be worried.

  I eyeballed him. “You don’t look like a leprechaun.” Actually, he looked pretty much exactly like a leprechaun except that he was nearly six feet tall and was wearing jeans and a gray cable knit sweater. I was just trying to be nice.

  He heaved a sigh that spoke of long-suffering. “What do you expect a Leprechaun to look like? Short, red beard, green suit, holding a shoe?”

  He’d pretty much nailed it. I mean, come on, we’ve all seen the Lucky Charms guy, right? Okay, Lucky didn’t have a beard, but still.

  Our new client looked nothing like the Lucky Charms guy. Not only was Mr. O’Leery too tall, there wasn’t a speck of green in sight. No beard, either. Heck, he didn’t even sound Irish.

  “Okay, fine, so you’re a leprechaun … ”

  “Leprechaun,” he corrected.

  “What?”

  “Capital ‘L’. Like American.”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  He heaved another long-suffering sigh. “I’m not one of those moronic fairytale people you humans like to make fun of. I am Leprechaun and I’ve come to you because I need your help. Now are you going to help me or not?”

  Render me speechless. I glanced over at Kabita who gave me a slight nod. “Of course,” I gave him my best professional smile. “That’s what we do.”

  “Good,” he said with a slight nod.

  “Right.” I settled back in my seat. “So, when was the last time you saw your, um, property.”

  “Last Tuesday.”

  I blinked. “You waited a week to come see us?” If I lost a pot of gold, I certainly wouldn’t be dilly-dallying around. I’d have called the cops. Scratch that, I’d have called my friends and follow crime solvers, Kabita and Inigo and Jack. I’d have had the whole gang on the case within minutes.

  “Well, I know who has it,” O’Leery admitted.

  Kabita and I exchanged looks.

  “You do?” Her voice was just this side of testy. Kabita did not like when clients withheld important details.

  “Oh, yes. I thought I would try to recover it myself. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any luck.”

  I really, honestly tried to keep a straight face. I swear I did, but I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “Right, you lost your luck.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be ridiculous. The pot of gold has nothing to do with luck. I’m not talking about some ridiculous children’s story.”

  This from a leprechaun. Excuse me. That would be “Leprechaun.”

  “Fine, so who has your gold? And if you know who took it, why didn’t you have any … luck getting it back from him? Or her.” If he beat around the bush any more I swore I’d grab the stapler off Kabita’s desk and bash him over the head with it. Why clients always insisted on being clever and mysterious was beyond me. If you want a crime solved, being clever and mysterious is not the way to get it done.

  O’Leery leaned forward in his chair and glanced around the office like he thought men in black might come popping out of the walls or something. “I’m pretty sure it was the mermaid.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She’s had it in for me for ages,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  Seriously? I needed a drink. A really big drink. Or maybe I needed to go back to bed and pretend this day never happened.

  “What mermaid and why does she have it in for you?”

  O’Leery gave me a glare that clearly said he thought I was thick in the head. “The one down at Fringe,” he named the local club frequented by members of the supernatural set. “We used to date, you know.”

  Now I could say see why a woman who used to date O’Leery might want to key his car or TP his house or set his garden gnomes on fire. But steal his pot of gold? He must have done something really bad.

  “So, you tried to get it back from her and she wouldn’t give it to you,” I said.

  “She claimed she didn’t have it. Obviously she must be lying.” His voice dripped with disdain.

  Kabita and I exchanged another look.

  “Exactly how do you think she stole the gold, Mr. O’Leery?” Kabita finally asked the burning question.

  How on Earth would a mermaid get out of a fish tank and steal a pot of gold presumably stored on land? For that matter, how on Earth could the two of them … ew, never mind. The thought made my stomach turn.

  “Well, obviously she grew legs,” he said, as if that solved everything.

  “Mr. O’Leery,” Kabita’s voice took on an edge I was very familiar with. She was obviously at the end of her patience. “Mermaids cannot grow legs.”

  Kabita was right. The whole mermaids growing legs thing? Total myth. They couldn’t breathe on land, either. Like fish, they could only breathe underwater.

  “Well, then, no doubt she had help,” O’Leery said.

  “So, you have no actual proof your ex-girlfriend stole your gold?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “She must have done it.” Damn but he was stubborn.

  “Okay, fine, you’re probably right, she probably did it,” I decided to humor him. “But let’s just suppose for a minute somebody else might have had something to do with it. Helped her, maybe. Who else might have done it?”

  He tugged at his lower lip, a frown creasing his forehead. “Well, there’s that sorcerer.”

  Kabita flipped open her laptop and started tapping at the keys. “Which sorcerer, Mr. O’Leery?” She had an entire database of all witches, sorcerers, and magic practitioners in the area. Which wasn’t entirely surprising seeing as how Kabita was a natural born Witch.

  “Oh, what’s his name … Megatron.”
>
  We both stared at O’Leery our mouths hanging half-open. I was pretty certain there weren’t any sorcerers anywhere in the world named Megatron. If there was, the guy needed to seriously rethink his moniker.

  Kabita peered at her screen and tapped a few more keys. “Do you mean Margeon?”

  “Ah, yes,” O’Leery nodded. “That’s the one.”

  I stared at him. Seriously? What the hell kind of name was Margeon? “Um, why would this Margeon guy steal your gold?”

  “Well, he’s my neighbor.”

  “And?”

  “And I might have accidentally killed some of his roses.”

  I rolled my eyes. Great. A pissing match between a leprechaun — excuse me, Leprechaun — and a sorcerer over gardening. That was all I needed.

  “Anyone else?” I was half afraid to ask.

  “Well … ” he hesitated.

  Great. Just great. “Spill it, O’Leery.”

  “There’s this vampire, you see.” He shifted in his seat rather nervously. “He might have a slight grudge.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

  “I might have sort of cheated him at cards.”

  That was a new one. “Vampires don’t play cards.” They cared about one thing: Drinking human blood. Playing cards wasn’t in the cards, so to speak.

  “Oh, no, this was while he was still alive.”

  Oh, hell. It wasn’t just any grudge, then. Not if the vamp had carried over into undeath. Shit. I did not like this case, not one little bit. “You got the vamp’s address?”

  O’Leery gave it to me. “So, you’ll help me, then? You’ll find my pot of gold?”

  I glanced over at Kabita, shrugged, then turned back to our new client. “Yeah, we’ll help you.”

  “Excellent. You best get to work then. Time’s wasting.” And with that he was out the door before I could catch my breath.

  A Leprechaun. Fabulous. Must be my lucky day.

  ***

  I decided to hit Fringe first. It was midafternoon which meant the club would be closed for the day. Fortunately, the bartender lived above the club. He knew me. Sort of.

  I stopped in front of a blue door sandwiched between the club’s entrance and the travel agent next door. The button for the doorbell was half hidden behind some planter thing filled with what looked like dead geraniums. I pressed it. One quick ring, nice and polite.

  I waited. Nothing. So, I gave it another quick ring, just in case. Still nothing. So, I leaned on the bell.

  From somewhere inside the building I heard a thump followed by a crash, followed by a few more thumps and a whole lot of cussing. Finally the door swung open and I was greeted with a snarled, “What?”

  “Hey, Nate. How’s it going?”

  He glared at me, squinting in the late afternoon sun. “Was going fine until you showed up.”

  Nate wasn’t a large man. He was wiry and quick with a ridiculously sharp memory recall, which made him an excellent bartender. He was an average-looking guy with dark hair cropped short and intelligent brown eyes. He obviously hadn’t bothered taking off last night’s eyeliner. It was smudged around his eyes like a raccoon.

  “What do you want?” It was just this side of a snarl.

  “Come on, Nate, is that any way to treat a guest?”

  “Seriously, Morgan, it’s way too early in the fu … ”

  “I just need to talk to the mermaid,” I interrupted.

  He blinked. “The mermaid? Morgan, mermaids don’t talk.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you have to communicate with her somehow, right?”

  He frowned. “Not really. The Boss sort of takes care of all that. The rest of the time she just swims around in that damn tank.”

  “I’ll figure it out, but I need to talk to that mermaid. Please?”

  I wasn’t going to get into an argument with Nate over the morality of keeping a living, intelligent being locked up in what amounted to a giant fish tank. I’d seen her before on my visits to Fringe and nobody, least of all the mermaid herself, had ever seemed bothered about it. I’d have to ask Kabita. Maybe she knew something about the situation.

  I finally managed to convince Nate to let me into the club for a few minutes. He didn’t know the mermaid’s name or anything about her, and he claimed he’d never seen O’Leery before. I had no idea how O’Leery had managed a relationship with the mermaid if she never left the club and he’d never been there. Guess I’d have to ask her. If I could figure out how to communicate with a being who couldn’t talk.

  Nate flipped on a few low lights and left me to do my thing while he messed around behind the bar. I slowly approached the giant tank which took up most of one wall of the club. Inside, I could just make out the curled form of the mermaid. She was still, as though sleeping, her arms wrapped around her chest, her long hair waving gently in the water.

  I pressed my face up close to the glass like a little kid at a fish tank. I’d never gotten a really good look at her before. The club had always been too crowded.

  She basically looked like you’d expect a mermaid to look. Girl on the top half, fish on the bottom. Her long tail was covered in scales that shimmered ever so slightly in the dim light of the club. I knew from before that her scales were purple and blue with hints of green, just like her hair. Her skin was milky white. I could even see the blue veins just under her skin.

  Suddenly her eyes flew open and I found myself staring into a pair of golden orbs. I’m talking true gold. Like the metal. The eyes were flat, expressionless, and very not human. Frankly, they freaked me out.

  “Um, hello,” I kept my face close to the glass and my voice low. I knew fish were sensitive to sound, and that sound carried underwater. I had no idea if mermaids were the same.

  She opened her mouth, peeled back her lips, and hissed at me like a freaking cat. Her mouth was full of razor-sharp teeth. Like the kind only found in predators. So, mermaids weren’t the pretty fairy princesses of the underwater kingdom, after all. I’d hate to think what her idea of a good meal was.

  “Sorry to wake you,” I tried again, “but my name is Morgan Bailey and I’m a private investigator. I need to ask you a few questions.”

  She hissed again and made a run — er, swim — for the glass. My instinct was to duck back, but I held my ground. I knew I was safe on my side of the glass. With a snarl she whipped away deeper into the tank. I stared after her, wondering what to do next.

  “She doesn’t understand you, you know.”

  The voice that interrupted my thoughts was light, feminine, but not necessarily female. Definitely not Nate. I turned around, but the speaker was well hidden in the shadows.

  “Sorry, who are you?” I asked.

  I made out the vague wave of a hand. Still not sure if it was a woman’s or a man’s. “This is my place.”

  “You’re the Boss.” The one Nate and the bouncers always talked about but no one had ever seen.

  “Yes. The Boss. I like that.”

  I could almost hear the smile in his or her voice. “I’m sorry for intruding, but I’m … ”

  “Morgan Bailey, private investigator. Vampire Hunter.”

  I frowned. “Yeah. That’s right. How did you … ”

  “How did I know?” said the voice. “I know a great many things. I also know you don’t speak Merr, so you will never be able to communicate with our little friend, there.”

  “But you can,” I said.

  “Of course.”

  “And if I tell you what I need to know, can you ask her for me?”

  There was a pause. “Perhaps. It depends what you need to know.”

  “I have a client named O’Leery. He claims he’s,” I paused. The whole thing was so ridiculous. “He claims the mermaid is his ex and that she stole something from him.”

  There was a light chuckle from deep within the shadows. “Oh, yes, Mr. O’Leery. He claims, I believe, that our little friend stole his pot of gold.”

  “Yes, that’s right. Frankl
y I don’t understand how a mermaid and a Leprechaun can possibly have a relationship to begin with, let alone enough of one that she’d steal his gold. Still,” I shrugged, “I have to ask.”

  “Of course.”

  There was a moment of silence followed by a strange humming sound which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up and goosebumps break out all over my arms. Freaky, that’s what it was. Spooky.

  Finally the humming stopped and the voice of the Boss spoke again. “It is true Mr. O’Leery and she were once … a couple, but that has been over for many years. She has not left this tank. She has not touched Mr. O’Leery’s gold and she does not know who has or where it is now.”

  “So, she didn’t maybe hire someone or, uh, something?”

  Another chuckle. “No.”

  I didn’t know if I could trust the Boss or not, but frankly, I didn’t have much of a choice. It was obvious the mermaid wasn’t going to speak to me, even if I had been able to speak Merr. “Okay. Thanks for your time. I very much appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem,” said the Boss. “Any time. Any time at all, Morgan Bailey.”

  I left the club as quickly as possible without making it obvious, and took a deep breath of fresh air the minute I was outside. The Boss totally freaked me out. I’d be quite happy if I never saw him, or her, or it, again.

  ***

  Since it was still light out, I decided to head for the sorcerer’s house first. Last thing I needed was for my suspect to go up in flames before I had a chance to question him.

  As I got into my car, my phone rang. It was Inigo, the third member of our investigation team and my boyfriend.

  “Kabita tells me you have a new client. You going to ask for your three wishes when you find his pot of gold?” He was all but laughing out loud on the other end of the line.

  “Very funny.”

  “Seriously, is there anything I can do to help?”

  I almost said no, but figured I might as well put him to good use. “Yeah. Can you check with local pawn shops, see if anyone has brought in a large amount of gold recently? Or some unusual gold?”

  “Like a big pot of it?” He went off into gales of laughter.

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh you are very funny. Can you do it?”

  “Sure thing, love. Let you know what I find out.” He was still laughing when we hung up.

  I gave Kabita a quick call. “It’s a no-go on the mermaid angle. Have you found out anything about this Margeon character?”

  “Not a lot,” Kabita admitted. “His real name is Melvin Smith and he’s from Omaha. He works for the Wal-Mart out in Troutdale.”