Book One: Theft of the Garter
Chapter 1 Partying and Parting

We begin our tale in August. August 17th to be specific, a Saturday.

As every Saturday I've been at Heloise's repair shop, a place where I've been picking up a lot of extra hours lately thanks to all the extra free time I've had throughout the summer. Figured this was a good way to get a little extra spending cash, as well as impressing my mentor, Heloise the nocker. She's a well respected inventor amongst the local faerie courts and I'm lucky to have been taken on as her apprentice, even if it is a lot of tough work. After all the long hours I've managed to save a small wad of cash but haven't a clue for what to spend it on yet. Until I do decide, I've kept the extra income secret from my parents, who would almost certainly toss it right into my college fund.

Anyway, today is out of the ordinary only because Heloise herself has barely shown her face all day, and I've been forced to practically run the shop myself. Which isn't impossible, just a pain in the ass, but still better than getting on my boss' bad side. I happen to know Heloise keeps a collection of devices designed to deliver scientifically-exact quantities of misery, and I would prefer never to be on the receiving end of one.

As the sun sinks towards the horizon and I start to close up shop in the last thirty minutes before the end of my shift, Heloise finally emerges from the back rooms to speak with me. She is wearing her typical form-concealing burgundy robes, a more comfortable version of the garb reserved for those rare days when she isn't laboring on something in the workshop.

I immediately notice that Heloise isn't her usual self; her eyes are bloodshot and droopy, and she's carrying an ice pack kept pressed against her head. Loud noises from passing traffic on the street makes her wince. And to my changeling senses, even Heloise' fae mein is faded and worn out looking, her skin paler than usual and the fire in her eyes dimmed.

"Hey," she mutters. "Thanks for watching the shop today. I was almost going to close the place completely. Least we weren't busy."

"Sure thing, Heloise," I reply. "Umm... you want anything?"

"Hair of the satyr that bit me," she says, speaking freely as long as there are no mortals around to overhear.

My face quirks into an unsure expression. Though Heloise can be sarcastic, sometimes she is very literal and serious. But she doesn't seem particularly vindictive, at this moment anyway, so I shuffle towards a nearby freezer to grab something refreshing for her. "I haven't seen you this worn out in a while. What are ya workin' on?"

Ever observant, she spies my action and bids me do otherwise.

"In the office," she instructs. "In the desk there's a bottle of tequila. That'll do for now. Uhhggg..."

I obligingly fetch the beverage as well as a shot glass. Meanwhile she goes on, "This isn't from overworking; it's from overdrinking." She casually waits for me to pour her a shot. "Well, both."

She fondles the glass as I slowly fill it, continuing at the same pace as my pouring. "I finally finished a big order this week, so last night I decided to have a little celebration."

I give her a smile and a sidelong expression. "This doesn't look like 'a little' anything."

Heloise rarely does anything 'little'. I think it's to make up for the diminutive body that nature blessed her with. She is quite short, has pale blonde hair with highlights of honey yellow in them, and greyed blue eyes. Her body is always concealed under her work clothes (well, robes), so it's difficult to describe her apart from "short". But you could say her face is rather pretty, being smooth skinned and with a cute little nose. But then again, it's a face that can grin pretty evilly when she wants to. The scar on her forehead contributes to her intimidating qualities (I have no clue how she got it).

"I had a standing invitation to Castle Sapphire, which has weekly parties while the summer court is in session..." she explains.

I'm still fairly new to the world of faeries but I know enough to recognize the name of one of the Sidhe's nearby freeholds, though I've never been. "I did some work designing traps for the dungeon when it was built, and they've been trying to get me to party with them ever since. Normally I was too busy, or I'd just make an excuse cause I'm not much of a party girl, but, ehh..." she slugs down a shot, and shudders as the spirits slip down her throat.

A few stray strands of her blonde hair fall out of place, dangling in front of her face. She smiles weakly, and pays them no mind. "Anyway, I finally took them up on their offer last night. I had no idea what I lightweight I am..."

"Sounds like fun. But surely there was more than drinking?"

"Oh sure. Lemme tell ya, the sidhe spare no expense when it comes to showing off for their party guests. There was music, and food, and dancing, and performance art, and games of croquet played with flamingos instead of mallets... that last one might have been after I'd had a couple drinks."

From what little I have learned of the sidhe, this lavishness doesn't surprise me. The sidhe are the ruling fae among the changelings of Earth, and the most celebrated too. Beautiful, rich, and often famous. Appearances and social status are of great importance to them, so as you might imagine their galas are quite a spectacle. Feast and festivities, costumes and pageantry the likes of which you've only ever dreamed about, if you're lucky.

Fun until you take it that one step too far, like my poor boss just experienced firsthand.

"I was actually having a really fun time. Until I passed out."

I sit down in a chair across from her and lean back. "Did they send you home, or did you crash there until morning?" I'm more than slightly interested, this being the most exciting thing to happen to either of us all summer.

"I..." Heloise has to stop and think for a moment, which apparently requires a good deal of effort. "...woke up here in the workshop, so I guess someone took me home."

She's not quite being literal here, but it makes sense to me; Heloise doesn't actually live in her workshop, but it does contain the entrance to a trod that leads directly to a small house in the Dreaming where she actually does have a bed and a kitchen and all the other living amenities. It's in a place called 'Miseryville' somewhere... she's never offered to show me around. But more than once I've come in to work on Saturday morning to find her snoozing on her workbench in the back, so even that short trip is sometimes too much hassle when she is in the grip of a creative fit of invention.

Speaking of inventions, finding the concept of the party interesting but her details about it not as vivid as I could hope, my mind wonders to her 'big order' this past weekend. While I've been minding the shop for the past few months, Heloise has been keeping this job completely under wraps. Even from me, her own apprentice. "Do you always get hammered after completing a project?"

Whether because of the hangover or the tequila she was currently downing, or just because the project was finished, Heloise was no longer so secretive.

"This wasn't just any project, I worked really hard on it. At first it was another enchanted trinket for a noble, this one in the form of a frilly lady's garter. The nobles are always trying to upstage each other, so it's not surprising to get an order for one built to enhance the wearer's sex appeal. So I based the design on the girdle of Aphrodite."

"Ooh," I coo, indeed interested. "Was it difficult?"

"Not in theory, but I'm much more practiced at working with metal. Lacy froo-froo underwear isn't really my thing. So it was a bit tricky to work all the little mechanisms into a piece of clothing and still keep it comfortable."

Heloise takes the bottle in hand and gets off her stool, leading me into the workshop. I've worked there many times before, but I don't typically approach Heloise's private draft board unless invited, such as right now. Her work area was big enough to comfortably work on something... about the size of standard consumer car. The walls bore a few dozen tools, were adjoined by numerous workspace surfaces, and a ready supply of mundane power-tools tucked neatly in the corners. It had a worked-in-regular-use feel, but was fairly tidy. The only personal item I'd ever seen was a small framed photo on a tiny desk in the corner.

Pinned up in front of a messy semi-stack of blueprints is a clearly ancient bit of yellowed parchment, looking like it something swiped from the the sketchbook of a renaissance architect. The parchment bears an illustration of the Cestus, the original girdle forged by Hephaestus and worn by the goddess Aphrodite.

"I also had to scale down the design, which worked out since the cantrips I have access to are nothing near the magnitude of the original," Heloise goes on, lifting up the scattered papers and looking around for something. "I used silver-thread for the wearer's grace, and crystallized moonlight sewn into the weave for a veil of mystery, and I had to get imported ... uumm... from the satyrs of... uhm. Hmm. Where is it?"

Heloise sweeps the messy drafting board clean, then hurries over to the nearest workbench overturning tools and pulling open every drawer within reach. Screws and wrenches and nuts and drill bits scatter through the air as Heloise rampages around in a panic.

" $&#!" Heloise barks, loud enough that she winces in pain from the sound of her own voice. Her face grows increasingly frustrated and worried. "Mother-#&*$-fuckking-dog-&*^$#!"

"What? What is it?" I ask by way of placating her, knowing she can really cuss up a good streak when she's agitated. However all she does is growl loudly in frustration for an answer. Taking a second to think, it clicks. "... wait, you mean you ... oh." I stammer, quickly realizing that she has lost the garter itself.

I quickly begin looking with her, checking every nook and cranny and crevice in sight, and soon drop to the floor looking under desks and tables and peering into dark corners. Heloise continues to cuss and fume, but it is futile. The girdle is not there.

"Ohhhh no." Heloise moans, slumping to the floor in defeat. "Cliff, do me a favor and shoot me now. Just put me out of my misery."

"Wait," She pauses, and takes a swig straight from the bottle she holds. "Okay, now shoot me. Use the blunderbuss we keep next to the safe."

"Hang on Heloise. Let's think." I sidle close to her, until my knee is touching hers. Close enough to grab the bottle away from her if I need to. "It's not here, Heloise. Someone or something took it, and I'm betting I know when." I grab her by the shoulders (albeit gently) and look closely into her face, meeting the gaze of her metallic blue eyes.

"Huh?" she picks up her eyes level with mine, ready to listen.

"I think someone from the party must have taken it, probably when they brought you home. You didn't... happen to tell anyone at the party about this invention, did you?"

"It's kind of a blur," she begins, but realizes that isn't helpful. She offers a weak, shamed smile. "It's also possible someone took it before I arrived here." She pauses and then adds. "I kinda... took the garter to the party with me."

"I suppose someone could have followed after you were dropped off too-." I begin to say, before this registers. "Whaaat..." I drawl, unable to keep the shock out of my voice. "Why?"

"I needed to test it! To make sure it was working correctly!" Heloise offers up as an excuse. "And there's this guy, whose attention I was hoping to catch..."

She hangs her head and buries her face in her arms. "And now I can't even remember if he flirted with me or not."

From within her arms, she half moans. "...But that doesn't even matter now because I'm DEAD without that garter! I'm supposed to hand it over to the client at the end of the month!"

"... and you can't make another in that time?" I ask.

"IF I work around the clock, AND I had more of the very select components I used in its construction."

She huddles into her arms more. "And he paid up front!" Heloise bemoans. "I already spent that money, I can't even give a refund!"

Undaunted, I stroke my chin in thought. "Well, if you really don't think making a duplicate is an option, why don't we try to find it? Surely you've got something around here good for searching, and if not, SOMEONE has to have a good cantrip for finding lost things."

Within her arms, Heloise's head twitches, and I can almost hear the gears of her thoughts clicking into slow motion.

"Maybe, hmm..." Heloise stops to consider this idea. "I could key it to respond to the lodestone buttons..."

She tugs on her robes and ponders her options for a minute. "This might not work, if whoever grabbed it was smart enough to conceal it with an illusion spell. That could mess my tracker right up. But it's worth a shot."

"...But I need to at least TRY to make a replacement. If I skimp on some of the more exotic parts I could still turn in a mediocre product. Which means I won't have time to hunt around town looking for the thief."

Her eyes twitch as she thinks of the details of construction. I know she dislikes making less than premium work, but in this case she'll have to set her pride aside.

"But you! Cliff, YOU could take on searching for the lost garter?"

Heloise is starting to look a smidge better now that she has a glimmer of hope, though she's still quite worn. I give her an impulsive hug as a token of solidarity. "Sure. How can I refuse a quest from my mentor?"

"Urk!" The diminutive nocker grunts, the breath squeezed out of her by my trollish hug. Sometimes I forget my own strength. "Okay, thanks, you can put me down now."

"I'll do my best to find it, Heloise." I assure her in a more serious tone, after releasing her.

"I'm gonna need to get some rest before I can whip up a tracking device for you," Heloise says, her mind already devising what such a gadget might look like. She stalks off towards the center of the room, stepping over a fairy ring disguised to look like a manhole cover.

"Go ahead and lock up, and head home for tonight. But swing by here tomorrow at sundown and I'll see that you're properly outfitted for this quest."

Heloise performs a spirited tap dance upon the fairy ring, upon the completion of which the floor disappears from under her and swallows her up in a flash, transporting her off to her domain in the Dreaming. She's tired and fatigued at the moment, so her movements weren't the most graceful I'd seen from her. It's strange to see your dour, grumpy boss dancing, especially tap dancing, but the funny thing is... Heloise is actually pretty light on her feet. Go figure.

Now alone in the shop I do as she has bid, closing up the store, and head home on the little gas-powered scooter that I own. The exterior of the shop looks just as I expect it to, and none of the other stores downtown are anything new or different. There is the usual assortment of fashion shops, book markets, restaurants and trinket stores on this street, which sees a fair bit of traffic but thankfully isn't in the downtown city core.

The trip home is pleasant. I pass through a portion of the city of Ashland as I go; it's a cozy little town nestled in a valley between some fairly steep hills and wooded mountains, and for the past three years it has been home. And it does have its attractions. There's a small mall with a cinema & arcade, a public park, a robust theater community and even a "Mystery Shack" on the outskirts of town. And that's just what the mundane world has to offer. My trip home takes me by within view of a spot of magical interest: Castle Sapphire. It is one of few faerie freeholds I'm aware of in the valley, and easily the most powerful. Not surprisingly, it's the stronghold for the local Seelie court. To human eyes, the castle appears as a gated community on the west side of town, the part of Ashland with the high property values where the wealthiest families live. My route doesn't actually take me through that neighborhood but the tall gothic spires and minarets are impossible to miss even blocks away.

Castle Sapphire is also where Heloise went partying last night. For the most part the denizens of the Castle let the fae of the city do as they will, stepping in only to keep the peace and address troublemakers, and host regular parties to dole out favors of course. Our community is ruled by a Sidhe noble family that I've never met in person, members of house Dougal. Seeing the collection of rich modern looking houses clustered together in a literally gated area, I recall my times there, and know I may visit there again soon on my quest to for Heloise' lost item.

I've been to the castle twice, first after my Chrysalis for my saining (where I took the name Rax) and once when Heloise formally took me on as apprentice. Both occasions were handled by a member of the royal retinue and not one of the noble family themselves though. It was really more of a bureaucratic hassle, since I was not of noble blood there was no cause for a celebration and those of higher station are busy people I suppose.

Riding away from the bustling center of town, up into the hills and nearing the crest of what might be considered civilization, I have a lovely view of the city nestled in the Ashland valley. Soon though the view shifts and the area is out of sight as I really head out of the city. As I get farther out to the homesteads tucked into the countryside there's more and more trees I'd probably get lost if I hadn't worn the route so many times already.

The trip home is uninteresting and mostly uninterrupted, at least until I pull up to my home, the "Pink Palace" Apartments. I am surprised to see a large van idling in the parking lot, the rear doors open to accept the last few cardboard boxes being loaded into it. Rumbling to a halt on the dirt driveway of my home, I tilt my head and survey the scene.

"Careful dear!" calls out Ms. Spink, making her way up from her downstairs apartment. "Some delicate pieces in that one!"

I turn my scooter off, and walk it over to where the aging redheaded stage actress is standing. "Hello Ms. Spink. What's going on?" I ask, gesturing to the van.

"The van's come to load some of our old props up to take into town," she says with a glassy-eyed smile. "For the show, you know. Be a good boy and lend a hand, would you? There's a toffee in it for you."

Ms. Forcible comes shuffling up the stairs after locking the basement door behind her. "Is it still not finished?" she asks. "Surely we didn't have THAT many costumes left after all these years."

I oblige the elderly ladies, finding an unloaded box still waiting to be packed away. But I'm dubious of their promised candies; my sister told me they are as aged as the two geriatric actresses.

"So you'll be gone for the weekend or something? What show?"

"Oh didn't I tell you? Perhaps it was your father I was talking to. You look so much like him!" Ms. Spink laughs, pinching my cheek before I can dodge her. "Miriam and I are lending our venerable theater experience for a production that's being put on."

It's at this point that I realize that the two old ladies are far too feeble to have been loading boxes, or even driving by themselves. A young woman with deeply tanned skin and large gold hoop earrings is putting boxes into the back, and nearly finished. Her limbs are thin enough that the boxes couldn't be all that heavy.

Interested, I take a step towards her. "Hey, wants some help?"

"Knock yourself out," she shrugs. There are only a couple boxes left but I am able to easily lift them into the back, where the young woman stacks them for transport. When the job is done she pauses and says, "Thanks. You coming to the show?"

"Oh heavens no!" Ms. Forcible interjects. "The young Mr. Jones here is a minor, we'd be shut down if we were caught letting him in! Ho ho ha!"

I immediately wish the two older ladies hadn't answered that.

"Oh, too bad," the island girl says, her expression mostly neutral. I look the girl up and down a few times, wondering if she might be performing in this mystery show.

"Lu, help me in would you dear?" asks Ms. Spink, and Lu comes around the side of the van to help the elderly woman climb inside and find her seat.

While she's occupied I have a minute to observe her surreptitiously. Lu is blessed with long legs and slender arms, toned by frequent exercise and tanned by a great deal of time in the sun. In the heat of august it's not unusual to see people wearing little, but Lu seems to be accustomed to wearing practically nothing; on her feet are loose sandals and a tight pair of cut-off denim shorts hug her compact little backside as she leans into the van. A forest green tube-top wraps around her bust, which is probably only a C cup but looks larger because of her thin skeleton. A set of jangling bracelets match the gold hoops in her ears.

Curious about her age, if I had to guess, I'd estimate Lu to be 18 or 19... she has a rather youthful face at least. But I am sure Spink and Forcible wouldn't allow a minor to perform in their show if they won't allow minors to attend it.

The view of her short brown form is very delightful, and I find myself struggling for something witty to say. The best I'm able to come up with is, "Are you performing in this show...?"

"She will if we can get to rehearsal on time!" says Forcible. "Get the lead out April!"

Lu herself barely noticed my question, and I feel compelled to take another misguided swing at getting this exotic young woman to notice me. "Uhm… That's a lovely tan you have, Miss Lu."

"Thanks, golden brown tones this nice are hard work," Lu agrees, though she is still preoccupied with Spink's bulk.

Forcible seats herself in the passenger side seat and at last the two elderly ladies are ready to go. Lu climbs in over Spink and I catch sight of a small tattoo on Lu's lower back, a decorative green oval about the size of a can of soda, more or less. Lu makes her way into the driver's seat and starts the vehicle.

I walk over the driver side window. "Take care ladies," I bid the two older women. "Nice to meet you. See you around," I say directly to Lu, smiling at her amiably.

"Fur sure," she drawls, gives me a friendly but dismissive wave, and drives the van off down the road into town.

I watch them go for a second, before turning back to put my scooter safely away. My thoughts linger on that tattoo for a few seconds, then to the rest of the fetching island girl's body, as I head inside. She doesn't even know my name, yet I can't help but replay the brief meeting over and over in my brain as only a teenage male could. Hopefully something will distract me soon before this gets embarrassing.