The whole way back to her motel she was deep in thought. She even forgot to grap her receipt for the bicycle when she returned it to the rental place. Trade someone's life for information. Well, the Kelpie was right, information was a powerful thing, and expensive depending on what it was, but WAS it worth the risk? Who knew he lived out there for starters, and did she really want to have that on her conscience? True she could know everything she wanted to, and it would be doing him a favor, everything had to eat… but if the person she decided to bring out there just happened to try to fight and lost, well then survival of the fittest… right?
The thoughts chased themselves all around her brain even after she'd got "home" and sat on the end of the bed. Well, hypothetically, if she did this thing, who would she bring? A homeless person, surely would be missed less? But how to lure one there? And what if the Kelpie had been lying? The fae were out to the public, people know they existed now, but they never really made the papers. They mostly kept to themselves. People SAID they couldn't lie, but others had started coining the phrase "never ask a fae, for they'll say both no and yes".
So a homeless person… perhaps she could tell them there was a buffet or a carnival out that way and did they want to go? But she had to make it sound convincing. She COULD always just turn horse and abduct someone, very much like the kelpie were rumored to, but that would probably get noticed. Most definitely. That and she didn't have adhesive skin or whatever it was.
Once again she had to really think about this, because whoever she decided to bring with her would almost certainly have a very unpleasant death, but there was so much she wanted to know… getting straight facts out of anything not human was like pulling teeth. Finally she resolved herself… she would do it, but just the once! Anything more than that and she not only risked getting caught, she risked getting into the habit, and habitual offenders of ANYTHING messed up eventually. That was why serial killers never ran free for long. But she wouldn't be a serial killer that was ridiculous… she was just a morally-questionable Wiccan who happened to be a werehorse.
Her dreams that night weren't very pleasant. She would NOT feel guilty about this, she would NOT. It was for the pursuit of knowledge and there had to be some poor homeless schmuck that was about to bite it any day, wasn't there? Hell she'd be doing them a favor.
As she dressed and things for the next morning she thought about it. No she was resolved… and she thought she knew where to start her search. There was an overpass near the train tracks not far from here, she thought it looked like a place a homeless person would hang out. She started making her way there.
The day was sunny, and the sky had that white look that it got when things were trying to be nice out, and it WAS nice out. A pleasant breeze lifted her honey-colored hair off the back of her neck and if her mind hadn't been so clouded, if her gut hadn't been so fluttery, she might have felt that same euphoric light-heartedness she'd felt since she got here, but no.
She felt like she was being watched still. She remembered the creepy pretty lady's warning yesterday and wished she didn't stand out so much. She wore a bright yellow strapless sundress and tennis shoes and had a sunflower headband in her hair. She thought she looked cute. But she stood out. Why did she have to look so cheerful today?
She looked especially out of place for the place she wound up. The underpass was dirty, dingy and very vandalized. Sure enough there were a few people milled about, two men and one woman. They wore dirty clothes that showed signed of having been washed, like so many homeless people did. They were filthy despite the fact. One of them men approached her when he noticed her. His beard was overlong and his hair was that bright carrot orange unique to the celts that you just couldn't find in a box.
" 'Ere now, what's a pretty thing like ya' doin' down 'ere, 'tain't safe this end 'o town lassie," he grumbled. She could see through the grime on his face. His eyes were a pale blue. She frowned to herself. If she was going to go through with this she couldn't get emotionally involved, not at ALL. WHY was she doing this again? Oh right. To get information out of a rare, probably-ancient mythical creature.
"Uhm, actually I was hopin' ta bring a few people t'this new fairground they're thinkin' 'o settin' up out near the moor. They're wantin' volunteers, an' I thought 'o you lot," she told the man. She winced inwardly at the improvised Irish accent she forced between her lips. She was thinking of the people here, and Mike Myers in Shrek when she did it, and she only did it because she was fairly sure no one would follow a foreigner out to the middle of nowhere.
"Eh, what's that then? A carnival needs help, y'say? I've not heard 'o no carnival, but… some extra cash would sure be nice…. " the old man seemed to muse to himself for a moment. PLEASE buy this, Zoe found herself thinking in her head. Maybe his death would be quick. She hoped it would be. Somewhere else, too she wondered if this was the all time worst thing she'd ever done, even worse than trying to stab that cat when she was 3.
"Eh, why not? 'T won't be the worst job I've ever had, an' a hot meal tonight'd be mighty nice. I'll follow ye, lass. Name's Sean," said the man at last.
"Abby," said Zoe, the lie slipping off her tongue like honey. Abby was the name of one of her favorite tv-show characters.
"Well it's nice t'meetcha Abby. Yer not from 'round here. Americas, aye?"
Zoe began walking in the direction of that lake, leading him on. It was only a couple miles outside of town, and half a mile off the main road. If she kept him talking it shouldn't take that long.
"Yeah. Oregon," she said. Quite apart from lying, she found that telling some of the truth just sounded more natural out in the open. She knew the way towards the lake by heart now. It was just about a mile and a half outside of the town. The lake, too was so small she was sure not many of the locals knew about it, and if they did she was equally certain that Mr. Kelpie kept them well-away.
Most of the way there she just made small talk. Eventually thought she thought she'd hit a snag. Once they got within sight of the lake, he'd see there was no carnival or fair, no nothing. She might have to go horse and push him there.
Just as she suspected, the lake came into sight, ringed by the occasional shrub or dead tree, and the great boulder that looked as if it'd been dropped there from the sky. The man stopped just in front of her. She had to, before he turned around… she dropped her dress and a few seconds later, she jammed her enormous head into his back, urging him forward.
He feel, scrambled to his feet and saw her at last.
"What the? Where'd you come from? What d'ya think you're doin'? Where's the girl?" he demanded. He still hadn't made the connection. She didn't want to give him a chance to see her dress in the grass behind her and put two and two together. She took two steps forward, lowered her head and gave him another nudge, not being gentle about it. She wasn't wearing horseshoes and hadn't ever.
He rolled in the grass, but she had to get him off the dirt road and into the field. She reared up a few inches and landed with a whinny, come on get up, move get going, walk she wanted to say. He tried, and stumbled again, and she tossed her head and snipped at him with her big, horsey teeth.
"The hell's wrong with ya, get off, go home! " The homeless man tried to shoo her off, but she wasn't just a horse. She had to get him closer to the lake.
She gave another whinny, and it was answered from over by the lake. The man's head whipped around and he saw what he thought was just another horse. "What is it with you bloody nags, it ain't pick on Sean day, get off!" he growled and took a swing at her. What the hell kind of maniac tried punching a horse!? Sure she wasn't being very nice, but to him she was just a horse, which meant he thought he was punching a damn horse. Who DID that?
Annoyed now, she lowered her head again and got her teeth clamped around his pants leg. It didn't taste nice, but she could drag him that way, as awkward as it must have looked. She walked backwards that way, dragging him across the grass. She was about five feet from the shore of the little lake when she finally let him go, and parried to block his path back to the road. His only route now was towards the water, but he seemed to know something was up.
"I don't feel like swimmin', ye stupid beast!" he shouted. Stupid, huh? She gave a raucous shriek and the Kelpie answered her.
The man spun around and there he was, a hulking, handsome looking stallion if it weren't for the lake weeds and the gills, the wild green eyes or the fangs. He lowered his head, got the man between the legs so he was bowled back and landed sidesaddle, and then it was a short jaunt to the water. The man, despite being very unbalanced, couldn't seem able to fall off, and Zoe could only watch as the Kelpie dragged the man she'd lured down below the water and didn't surface for fifteen solid minutes.
She stood there the entire time and just waited, a cool breeze blowing her mane and tail around her. She was just another dappled silvery gray and white horse with oddly colored hair, standing on the edge of a small lake.
Eventually there were bubbles to be seen and she watched as something floated to the surface. A sopping wet shirt. A boot. A piece of something long, gray and bloody looking. Entrails. Finally the kelpie himself surfaced, as a man, watery bloodstains around his lips like some kind of aquatic vampire. He washed his face off, getting rid of it all, and walked ashore to sit in the grass before her. He didn't look nearly so grumpy.
She backed up a few paces, and changed back, sitting across from him in the nude. She had to remember to drag her clothes with her sometime.
She felt a little sick, but she had to remind herself, this was for the sake of knowledge, of adventure, of potentially being part of something so much bigger and more spectacular than just herself. And none would probably miss the man.
"So I brought you what you wanted… against some pretty good judgement I might add," she began. She thought the first thing she might ask was why the kelpies never ate the hearts or entrails, in the old stories.
"You did… so now you get to interrogate me," he replied, with a smirk she didn't care much for. It said that he HAD got what he wanted, and he had every confidence he could get it again. She would just see about that. As handsome as his human form was, he wasn't winning HER over, she knew what lurked beneath. And besides, his breath probably smelled like dead fish.
"Why don't you ever eat the heart or the entrails?" she asked.
He took a moment to answer.
"Entrails, bowels… nasty stuff. Filters. Not remotely appetizing. As for the heart, that one is trickier. It's….," he frowned a moment, while he thought. "an emotional organ. By itself, just another muscle but the importance people place on things gives them a power all their own. We can't bear to stomach such things. Love is a powerful magic all its own" he said at last. She scoffed.
"Right, all that true love garbage… how cliché," she made a gag-face.
"Don't. There's more truth to it than Hollywood would have folk believe," he waggled a finger at her.
Storm clouds rolled by overhead, as if summoned by the horrible deed she and the Sidhe before her had just committed. She felt that faint zinging sensation across her arms again and knew this one was going to be bad. It got chillier, and she decided to get up, breasts swinging, and job back across the grass to grab her sundress before it got too wet to put on. She came back wearing it and resumed her place, completely shameless. If he'd been watching, he didn't make it obvious.
"Was that all?" he asked.
She frowned at him. "Hardly. Tell me about you, about this place," she invited.
"…. Which would you prefer first?"
She heaved a great sigh. Fairies, fae, Sidhe, Sprites, Fair Folk, call them what you would. Damn things were specific.