Chapter 18 – The Forgotten and the Bodacious

"Hello lovely." Vex grinned as his sultry teammate strode – stomped, really – into their basement lair. "You're looking suitably bitchy this evening."

She kicked off her boots and sank into the leather recliner in the corner. "Kiss my ass, V."

"I'd love to, but something tells me there isn't enough Vaseline and Chapstick in the known universe to protect my lips from that lava tube you call an asshole."

She held out a palm and sent a fireball flying at Vex's head. He ducked just in time. The fireball hit a painting on the wall, instantly turning a priceless Renoir into a pile of ashes on the carpet.

Vex chuckled. "Good riddance, I never liked the Impressionists anyway. Now Francis Bacon on the other hand…that was a screwed up and amazing artist. Bleak, abstract, and wonderfully grotesque. Do you know his work?"

"I have better things to do with my time than look at pretty pictures on walls." She took a drink of water then threw the glass against the wall, shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces.

"Something have you hot under the collar, love? Are you steamed? Burning with rage?"

"Hey! I'm the only one allowed to make fire puns around here." She held up a finger and blew out the last remaining flicker of flame.

"And you wonder why you haven't got any friends. Bad puns, and no sense of humor." Vex flicked his wrist, and his partner poked herself in the eye.

"Ow! I'ma kill you, motherf-"

"Excusssse me." A hooded figure emerged from the shadows. He was slumped forward and hidden under a brown hood, like a Franciscan monk. "If I may, Vex and S…S…" The hooded figure struggled with her name.

"Oh for the sake of…it's Serena! Se-Re-Na! How many times do I have to tell you that, you worthless fool?" She kicked the coffee table as she rose from her chair. "You'd think that being head of security for the Light Fae – head of freaking security – would be enough that lowly idiots like you would at least have the decency to remember my name. Head of security, man!"

Vex shrugged. "You're never around. You're easy to forget."

"That's because I'm doing my job! Doing what I'm supposed to do! A good security chief goes unnoticed, working in the background, seeing without being seen! Ready at any second to protect the Ash, not prancing around town waving swords and picking fights and acting like an attention whore."

"I quite like whores," Vex replied.

"Assssss do I."

"Yeah, you'd need to pay for it, mate. With a mug like yours you'd need a ten foot wang to get a girl close enough for sex. Pain Eaters are not an attractive species." Vex clapped him on the shoulder.

"Sssssscrew you." The Pain Eater slashed Vex's cheek with a fingernail, drawing a trickle of blood.

"You know I like the rough stuff." Vex winked. "And as for you, don't even pretend that you care if something happens to the Ash. If you gave two flying fucks about the Ash you wouldn't be here now."

"It isn't my fault. Everyone knows that the Clan Zamora only takes care of their own. As soon as the Ash finds some Zamora crony to take my place, I'll be out of a job. It's all favoritism; qualifications don't count for a damn thing. I'm just looking out for my future interests. Now Lachlan…there was a leader I could get behind."

"Or below or above or bent over or reverse cowgirl…"

"Shut up, Vex."

The Pain Eater sighed. "Helloooo? I'm here to deliver a messssage. Our bosss is displeased with our performance. He demandsss the final ssstone."

"He can demand all he wants, but without more information I can't find it. I. Can't. Find. It." Serena enunciated each word. "Anyway, what the hell? We brainwashed a Boraro, broke the boss into the Santiago ball, and barbequed a light Fae elder. You two broke into the damn Dark Fae compound! We found two of the three. I'd say that's decent work."

"We agree on something for once," Vex chimed in. "How are we supposed to find a centuries old rock when it could be anywhere on the face of the earth? Google it?"

"What'sss a Google?"

Vex shook his head, pitying, at the Pain Eater. "You need to spend less time in people's heads and more time in the real world."

"Don't mock me. I'm hip. I've ssseen Fresh Prince of Bel Air. I know who the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtlesss are. I'm radical and tubular and bodaciousss to the maxx. You can't touch thissssss." The Pain Eater broke into MC Hammer shuffle, particularly awkward as his thin, scaly legs poked out from under his brown robe. "You can't touch thisssss."

Vex looked on in horror. "Ever wish you could unsee something?" He asked Serena.

"Every time I look at your face," she replied, as the Pain Eater Hammer-danced back into the shadows.

Five Hours Later

The Morrigan strutted down the sidewalk in a pair of stilettos and a tiny, blood red Alexander McQueen dress. She felt people's eyes on her as she walked. How she adored it. Craved the attention. She sometimes wondered if she had an ancestor who fed off the adulation of others. A fame whore of the Fae variety.

She spotted The Ash sitting under an umbrella at a small café. The Morrigan removed her dark sunglasses, and flashed her rival an ultrawhite grin before joining her. "You've picked a rather public place to meet. Very brave."

"My people own this coffee shop. Most of the customers are members of my security staff. I feel perfectly safe here." She glanced sideways at Serena, her chief of security, who was currently sipping a green tea latte and doing the daily crossword puzzle. "And I have news."

"Do tell."

"Trick thinks he might have a lead on the location of the Siancyn Stone. I'm sending in a team to investigate," Val whispered.

Serena's ears perked up, and she leaned imperceptibly closer to the Ash's table.

"And where might you be sending them?" The Morrigan spoke in a whisper.

"Trick discovered an ancient text that mentions an object of great power, fitting the Siancyn's description, in the Congo."

"Africa?"

"Yes, the Congo is in Africa. Ten geography points for The Morrigan." Val rolled her eyes.

"Honey, I don't need a map to tell me where to go." The Morrigan winked at their waiter; he gulped and set a small cup of coffee in front of her before backing away slowly. "Your wait staff is intimidated by me. I like it." She never took her eyes off of the young man. "He's not bad looking. Can he sing?"

"I wouldn't know anything about him."

"Oh, come on." The Morrigan leaned back in her chair. "You mean to tell me you don't dip into the human help? It's one of the perks of being in charge. Free food. All these old ideas about human and Fae relations are going the way of the dinosaurs, snap bracelets, and perms." She sipped her coffee. It was scalding hot, but she barely noticed.

"I try not to take advantage of people."

"How on earth did you gather enough votes to become the Ash? Politics is built on taking advantage of people. Bribes. Blackmail. Boning. The three B's."

"Lucky for me, I have an unscrupulous father who takes care of that for me." Val grinned.

"Not the boning, though."

Val's coffee mug stopped halfway to her face. "I sincerely hope not."

The Morrigan laughed. "We seem to have gotten off track. You are putting together a team, correct? I have just the woman for the job – resourceful, powerful…"

"Actually I already have a group in mind. I think you know them. My sources tell me you've used their services on several occasions."

The Morrigan had to sit and think. She frowned, as realization struck. "The human doctor? Her team?"

"The very same." Val narrowed her eyes. "You seem unhappy."

"I'm just surprised. I would have thought you could find a group that's a little more professional and a little less…Scooby Doo. I only use them because they're cheap."

"Cheap, yes. But also effective." Val took a sip of coffee. "Of course, I'm not supposed to know any of this. My brother thinks he's keeping it a secret, these illegal dalliances with his crew. If our father knew his son was a thief, he'd probably wring Hale's neck and leave him for dead in a dumpster."

"How did you find out, then?"

"I'm the mothafuckin Ash, bitch." Val grinned. "All seeing and all knowing."

"Ooohh…I like that attitude." The Morrigan raised her coffee mug, and they clunked glasses. "Although, I'm still not sure I like your choice, here. We're in a struggle for our survival, and you want to put our fate in the hands of a human, a glorified cockatiel, a rather useless shape shifter, and a fairy queen. Is there anything more fragile sounding than 'fairy queen'?"

"She's tough. Don't let the title fool you."

"Actually you're right," The Morrigan leaned back, "I've known a few fairy queens in my day. I used to go down to the Church Wellesley Village…some of those bitches would break a heel over your head and not think twice about it. I was very popular there."

"Anyway," Val tried to scrub the image of The Morrigan, dark princess of the 'fairies', out of her mind. "Hale asked me for a few days off. I'm told they're headed to Barcelona to find a pair of handcuffs."

"Kinky."

"What they're looking for isn't important. What matters is that I have a group of my own tracking their movements and reporting back to me. If their performance impresses me, the job is theirs. I just have one small problem. An unknown, if you will."

"I don't like the sound of that. What is it?"

"It isn't a what, it's a who. It appears an unaligned Succubus slept her way into the group. I don't know anything about her, and that makes me nervous."

"You're talking about Bo? Funny, that's who I was going to suggest in the first place. She's not too bright, but she's street smart. Seems loyal enough."

"To who?"

"To herself, and whoever her employer is. I've used her quite a bit since she and that strange little human showed up in Toronto. It doesn't hurt that she's easy on the eyes, either."

"You trust her?"

The Morrigan laughed, with an modulation and pitch that sounded a little too much like Cruella de Ville. "I don't trust anyone. And neither should you. But she's tough, and fearless. Fearless. And that has to count for something, right?"

Val, The Ash, frowned at her still steaming coffee mug, not wholly convinced. She was eagerly anticipating the first report from her team in Spain, half-expecting the trip to be an unmitigated disaster.

Serena sat nearby, tapping her pencil on the crossword puzzle in front of her. She'd heard the whole thing. Every word. She pulled out her cell phone and shot a quick text to her employer, simultaneously excited and relieved. In the end, she hadn't even gone looking for information, it had come right to her in the form of a loose-lipped politician. And that information may have just saved her life...or at least kept her boss from turning her into KFC style Extra Crispy.