Page 18 of Touched

Pretty sure you have to be physically present to fuck.

Memories of yesterday… and what I must have looked like to that woman who thought I was talking to myself in the middle of the street has me chuckling aloud. Aeris’s eyes rise to mine. I see the question lurking there but am still processing the words she uttered a few short minutes ago.

A fairy.

A freaking fairy?

I’m sitting here behind Jackson Square talking to a real-life Feu Fallot.

No shit?

Taking another sip from my water bottle, I look at her and ask, “So, you’re a fairy? Like Tinker Bell in the moviePeter Pan?” I chuckle when I see her nose wrinkle in disgust.

“I don’t know what a movie is. But I have read the colorful, illustrated book with thetinylittle blonde who accompanies the boy who can fly with her magickdust.” She grimaces. “There’s so much wrong with that character, I’m unsure where to even start. It’s absurd.” I chuckle at her vehemence. She blushes before grinning back at me and retorting, “First of all, unless we want them to, humans are unable to see us when we’re using our Glamor.”

“I can see you just fine,” I point out, allowing my gaze to traverse her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She’s luscious, like a decadent dessert. I suspect she would keep my sweet tooth more than satisfied.

Down, boy! This isn’t the time or the place.

“Well, there’s one exception to that rule,” she murmurs, almost hesitantly. Almost as if she’s afraid to reveal the exception. Fearing I’ll run or something… else.

She has no idea some of the shit I’ve faced in my years… first from growing up here, and now, working in this city. I’ve seen some shit that can’t really be explained. I’ve worked more murders and gang crimes than anyone should ever have to. I’ve run into the “Lost Boys” more than once, though they aren’t always male. They truly believe they are vampires and frequent the Quarter. I’ve faced down drunken partygoers who went on a rampage when they were kicked out of bars for fighting. I almost ended up getting trampled one time by the supremely dangerous dude who was built like a Mack truck. He got loaded, was refused service at a bar, said he was a mystical bull, and just bulldozed his way down Bourbon. Thankfully, a local bouncer pulled me into a recessed doorway. Once the cavalry arrived, armed in riot gear, we were able to take control back from the asshole and the enraged crowds. But “the bull’s” strength was certainly questionable. So many people were arrested and hospitalized that fateful night that our jail was beyond full. We had to start shipping them into other parishes to use their jails until everyone was arraigned and either released or bonded out due to other issues.

Part of their community service was having them clean the school buses we used to transport them from the jail to the courthouse or the hospital. Well, the folks who get sick, anyhow. Poetic justice is having them clean up their own mess in the sweltering heat. Maybe next time they decide to drink, they won’t overindulge.

Hell, who am I kidding? That seems to be the name of the game in the Quarter.

Yeah right. When in Nawlins... as the saying goes.

I suppose if I were interested enough, I could check on the rate of alcoholism in our neck of the woods. I simply don’t care enough, unless, what someone does causes them to do something illegal and the detectives are called in. Only then, do I care. At that point, I have to care. When someone does something that endangers others, I care.

But what someone does to their own body is none of my business. You want to poison yourself, that’s on you.

Shaking my head, I bring myself back to the here and now. Out of my wandering head.

Get back on track, Callum.

An exception to the rule she says… Interesting.

“An exception? What would that be?” I question. There’s a calmness about her that’s soothing, almost restful. It puts me at ease despite the upcoming shit we need to orchestrate to start dismantling the Trahan brothers’ operation.

This conversation is a welcome reprieve.

“Well, if a mythical creature um… well, uh… if one of themmateswith a human, then, their offspring, as well as future generations, will be able to see us regardless of whether or not we’re using our Glamor,” she hastily replies. Her cheeks flush brightly before she straightens her back, centering her inquisitive gaze on me. “Since youcansee me, I suppose the real question is… what areyou?” She asks matter-of-factly.

What am I?

The hell does she man what am I?

The shock now coursing through me has me momentarily speechless, which definitely doesn’t happen that often. The stories that I thought were just that…stories… are apparently true if what Aeris is telling me can be believed.

Is this a joke? Is someone pulling a fast one on me?

Yet instinctively, I know she isn’t lying to me.

She isn’t. At all. She’s being truthful.

My own sixth sense, or bullshit detector, depending on who you ask, makes me confident of that fact.

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