Something Wikkid This Way Comes
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Synopsis
Capitola, Moo, and Shar are the halfling ladies of Triptych: supernatural private investigators who get paid to clean up paranormal messes. Normally Cappie doesn't take human cases, but who can resist a priest, missing Catholic school girls, and a creature that may or may not be the Prince of Darkness? A story set in the world of Nicole Peeler's Jane True series.
Release date: January 17, 2012
Publisher: Orbit
Print pages: 70
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Something Wikkid This Way Comes
Nicole Peeler
The chubby little human was doing his damndest to hump my leg, but the palm I’d placed on his forehead kept him at arm’s length.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, panting up at me as he air-humped, his eyes glazed.
I sighed, feeling bad for the guy. He was wearing full nerd garb, including a pocket protector and an extremely unfortunate, thin, brunet comb-over. One leg of his corduroys was pegged for biking, and I thought I could see a fanny pack peeking at me from over his rounded hips.
He was hardly Purgatory’s average customer, since our clientele was more apt to sport fangs, gills, or claws than this guy’s sad clip-on tie. This dude was all human and also, considering his dilated pupils and complete lack of reserve, very obviously glamoured out of his mind. He wasn’t here by choice.
“Mister, you’ve got so much mojo in your system you’d hit on a grizzly. Who brought you here?”
The man jerked his head toward the bar, where a blonde wearing a pornographically tight silver dress flirted with Trey, tonight’s werewolf bartender. I’d seen her around a few times—the daughter of a succubus and a human, she’d sought refuge in steel-stained Pittsburgh after being rejected by her mother’s Tribe.
But a sad childhood was no excuse for a messy feed.
“Let’s get you home safe,” I said, putting an arm around the human to lead him to the door. He acquiesced willingly, his arm fumbling around my waist, one hand moving to my ass. I gave a warning shimmy, the coins on my scarf-belt jingling like a rattler. He jerked his hand back, only to sweep it up my bare back.
“Lyla, what the fuck?” The voice came from behind me, pitched to a petulant whine. I turned to find the silver-clad hoochie eyeing me reproachfully.
“He’s my catch,” she said. “You don’t even eat people.”
My lips pursed as I sought her name. I never forgot a face, but after a thousand-something years on this earth, names weren’t my strong suit.
“Crystal?” I hazarded. I knew it was something strippery.
“Diamond,” she said, hissing like a cat and taking a step toward her prey.
“Right. Sorry, Diamond. I wasn’t poaching, just helping this gentleman outside. You know the rules.”
Diamond’s wide red mouth bowed in a frown. “This place has rules?” A long, graceful arm swept open, indicating the pool table, where a pooka was currently snorting a line of faux-brosia off the bared tits of a weredeer.
“Granted, not many,” I acknowledged. “But there are a few. One of which is no luring humans on premises. If they wander in on their own steam, they’re fair game. But something tells me that’s not the case here, is it?”
As if to prove my point, the human stared fixedly at my cleavage, one glassy pupil dilated, the other a pinpoint. He looked like the CPA version of Marilyn Manson.
Narrowing her eyes, Diamond took a step forward. “I’m sure we can work something out. I just want a little of his vitality. You can have his wallet.”
I moved between her and the little man. Annoyingly, he took his opportunity to grind up on my behind like a corpulent schnauzer.
“That’s generous,” I said, swatting him away. “But no. What we are going to do is put this guy in a taxi and send him home to his wife.” I grabbed for the pudgy hand groping for a boob, raising it so Diamond could see the gold wedding ring glinting on the human’s finger. “As for you, feel free to stay for the show. I’ll buy you a drink. But you’ll have to find your next meal elsewhere.”
“Fuck you, Lyla,” Diamond said, her red lips receding alarmingly, succubus-style, to reveal her hitherto-hidden fangs. “You’re not the boss of this place.”
“No,” I said quietly. “I’m not.”
And with that I let my Fire flare as much as my unBound state would allow. Unnatural black flames licked along my pale skin, blending upward to ignite my long tresses till they lifted like raven wings framing my face.
Behind me I heard the human groan. I hoped he hadn’t soiled his pegged corduroys.
“But I can easily be the boss of you, dear Diamond.”
She crouched, hissing at me again, but my flames were already licking at her skin like thirsty tongues. Not burning, though. Not yet.
Her head drooped and she dropped to one knee, submissive.
“Bertha, call this gentleman a cab,” I said to the bouncer lurking at the corner of my vision. Big Bertha nodded, her massive frame lumbering over to where the human stood, quivering in genuine fear and glamoured lust. Bertha’s fuzzy monobrow twitched at me, waiting for my next move. This was why we all loved her: despite her size, she let us fight our own battles, unless we needed her.
“Diamond, release him,” I said, keeping my voice pleasant.
Resting on the carpet, Diamond’s hands clenched into fists, but I felt a small pop as her magic fizzled.
“Wha’?” said the human, Bertha already leading him up Purgatory’s stairs, toward the entrance guarding the outside world from the freaks that found shelter behind our doors.
I approached the figure hunched on the carpet. “Thank you, Diamond. Like I said, your next drink is on me. But please remember not to bring your own dinner into the bar next time.”
She didn’t look at me. I felt the resentful shift of her power, but she didn’t attempt another challenge. An Immunda, Diamond was no real opponent. She could glamour using the magic she took feeding from humans, but other than that she may as well have been one.
Her vulnerability made me sad. I’d been powerless once, after all.
Pushing thoughts of my curse aside, I stepped over Diamond and headed backstage to our dressing room.
The show must go on.
I could hear Rachel’s bass voice crooning even before I opened the door.
The not-so-eensy willy
Went up between my legs
Up go my berries,
So pretty like Old Gregg’s
“It’s tucking song time!” I called as I entered the dressing room I shared with my best friend Yulia, our resident will-o’-the-wisp, and Rachel Divide. Rachel was a human, but a powerful psychic. She was also a drag queen and the lover of my oldest friend and current boss.
“You bet yo’ white ass it’s tucking time.” Rachel’s syrupy Southern accent wrapped around me almost as tight as the gaff she was hauling up between her legs. She reached for her Spanx as I sat down at my dressi. . .
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, panting up at me as he air-humped, his eyes glazed.
I sighed, feeling bad for the guy. He was wearing full nerd garb, including a pocket protector and an extremely unfortunate, thin, brunet comb-over. One leg of his corduroys was pegged for biking, and I thought I could see a fanny pack peeking at me from over his rounded hips.
He was hardly Purgatory’s average customer, since our clientele was more apt to sport fangs, gills, or claws than this guy’s sad clip-on tie. This dude was all human and also, considering his dilated pupils and complete lack of reserve, very obviously glamoured out of his mind. He wasn’t here by choice.
“Mister, you’ve got so much mojo in your system you’d hit on a grizzly. Who brought you here?”
The man jerked his head toward the bar, where a blonde wearing a pornographically tight silver dress flirted with Trey, tonight’s werewolf bartender. I’d seen her around a few times—the daughter of a succubus and a human, she’d sought refuge in steel-stained Pittsburgh after being rejected by her mother’s Tribe.
But a sad childhood was no excuse for a messy feed.
“Let’s get you home safe,” I said, putting an arm around the human to lead him to the door. He acquiesced willingly, his arm fumbling around my waist, one hand moving to my ass. I gave a warning shimmy, the coins on my scarf-belt jingling like a rattler. He jerked his hand back, only to sweep it up my bare back.
“Lyla, what the fuck?” The voice came from behind me, pitched to a petulant whine. I turned to find the silver-clad hoochie eyeing me reproachfully.
“He’s my catch,” she said. “You don’t even eat people.”
My lips pursed as I sought her name. I never forgot a face, but after a thousand-something years on this earth, names weren’t my strong suit.
“Crystal?” I hazarded. I knew it was something strippery.
“Diamond,” she said, hissing like a cat and taking a step toward her prey.
“Right. Sorry, Diamond. I wasn’t poaching, just helping this gentleman outside. You know the rules.”
Diamond’s wide red mouth bowed in a frown. “This place has rules?” A long, graceful arm swept open, indicating the pool table, where a pooka was currently snorting a line of faux-brosia off the bared tits of a weredeer.
“Granted, not many,” I acknowledged. “But there are a few. One of which is no luring humans on premises. If they wander in on their own steam, they’re fair game. But something tells me that’s not the case here, is it?”
As if to prove my point, the human stared fixedly at my cleavage, one glassy pupil dilated, the other a pinpoint. He looked like the CPA version of Marilyn Manson.
Narrowing her eyes, Diamond took a step forward. “I’m sure we can work something out. I just want a little of his vitality. You can have his wallet.”
I moved between her and the little man. Annoyingly, he took his opportunity to grind up on my behind like a corpulent schnauzer.
“That’s generous,” I said, swatting him away. “But no. What we are going to do is put this guy in a taxi and send him home to his wife.” I grabbed for the pudgy hand groping for a boob, raising it so Diamond could see the gold wedding ring glinting on the human’s finger. “As for you, feel free to stay for the show. I’ll buy you a drink. But you’ll have to find your next meal elsewhere.”
“Fuck you, Lyla,” Diamond said, her red lips receding alarmingly, succubus-style, to reveal her hitherto-hidden fangs. “You’re not the boss of this place.”
“No,” I said quietly. “I’m not.”
And with that I let my Fire flare as much as my unBound state would allow. Unnatural black flames licked along my pale skin, blending upward to ignite my long tresses till they lifted like raven wings framing my face.
Behind me I heard the human groan. I hoped he hadn’t soiled his pegged corduroys.
“But I can easily be the boss of you, dear Diamond.”
She crouched, hissing at me again, but my flames were already licking at her skin like thirsty tongues. Not burning, though. Not yet.
Her head drooped and she dropped to one knee, submissive.
“Bertha, call this gentleman a cab,” I said to the bouncer lurking at the corner of my vision. Big Bertha nodded, her massive frame lumbering over to where the human stood, quivering in genuine fear and glamoured lust. Bertha’s fuzzy monobrow twitched at me, waiting for my next move. This was why we all loved her: despite her size, she let us fight our own battles, unless we needed her.
“Diamond, release him,” I said, keeping my voice pleasant.
Resting on the carpet, Diamond’s hands clenched into fists, but I felt a small pop as her magic fizzled.
“Wha’?” said the human, Bertha already leading him up Purgatory’s stairs, toward the entrance guarding the outside world from the freaks that found shelter behind our doors.
I approached the figure hunched on the carpet. “Thank you, Diamond. Like I said, your next drink is on me. But please remember not to bring your own dinner into the bar next time.”
She didn’t look at me. I felt the resentful shift of her power, but she didn’t attempt another challenge. An Immunda, Diamond was no real opponent. She could glamour using the magic she took feeding from humans, but other than that she may as well have been one.
Her vulnerability made me sad. I’d been powerless once, after all.
Pushing thoughts of my curse aside, I stepped over Diamond and headed backstage to our dressing room.
The show must go on.
I could hear Rachel’s bass voice crooning even before I opened the door.
The not-so-eensy willy
Went up between my legs
Up go my berries,
So pretty like Old Gregg’s
“It’s tucking song time!” I called as I entered the dressing room I shared with my best friend Yulia, our resident will-o’-the-wisp, and Rachel Divide. Rachel was a human, but a powerful psychic. She was also a drag queen and the lover of my oldest friend and current boss.
“You bet yo’ white ass it’s tucking time.” Rachel’s syrupy Southern accent wrapped around me almost as tight as the gaff she was hauling up between her legs. She reached for her Spanx as I sat down at my dressi. . .
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Something Wikkid This Way Comes
Nicole Peeler
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