The Greylands: Modern Edition

By Susan Skylark

A land of shadows, of mystery, of obfuscated Truth. Welcome to the Greylands, that strange world, within the bounds of Time, peopled by mortal men. We cannot see truly, only as through a glass, darkly. There are things that move and have their being completely beyond our ability to perceive them. There are things beyond our mortal ability to comprehend. There are hints and glimmers hidden within the body of revealed Truth, but there is much we do not know, cannot yet understand, and could never dare dream. These stories are mere fancy, with a seed of Truth at their core. They play with the ideas of mortality and Eternity, Time and things beyond it, and of course the epic battle of Good against Evil. Each stands alone, and though there are common themes, threads, names, and concepts, each story is an entity unto itself and should not be seen as occurring in the same world or mistaken for installments of a series. These are random musings, not Gospel Truth, and should not be taken as such. Joy, hope, and encouragement are hopefully a byproduct, but certainly not sound Theology. If you would know more of the true world beyond these Greylands, one must be a careful student of the Scriptures, not of silly stories such as these. While still fairytales, these stories are set in modern surroundings rather than the land of Faerie!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Skylark
• Release date: Sep 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005005962

Susan Skylark

Once upon a time there was a sensible young lady who pursued a practical career, but finding it far less fulfilling than the proponents of the modern fairytale promulgate, she then married a clergyman, much to everyone’s astonishment, including her own, and in proper fairytale fashion keeps house for the mysterious gentleman in a far away land, spending most of her time in company with a very short, whimsical person who can almost speak English. She enjoys fantasy, fairy tales, and adventure stories and her writing reflects this quaint affectation. She considers Happy Endings (more or less) a requisite to good literature and sanity, though real stories never, truly end.

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The Greylands: Modern Edition

Susan Skylark

Copyright 2022 Susan Skylark

Smashwords Edition

Author’s note: each story is unique to itself and not related in any way to any other story, character, or world in this or any other series. Unlike the other volumes in this series, though still fairy tales they be, the setting is modern.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an authorized retailor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents:

Shaboom Kazum

Shrike

Modern Convenience

Hunter

Dangerous Games

Ingleside

Other Books by this Author

Excerpt From ‘Where Eagles Gather’

‘In Which Iris Misses Tea,’ excerpt from ‘Of Tea…and Things

‘The Pallid Knight,’ Excerpt from ‘The Greylands’

‘On Sleeping Beauties: A Foible,’ excerpt

Excerpt from ‘Shadow of the Unicorn’

Excerpt from ‘Over the Hills and Faraway’

Excerpt from ‘The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I’

Shaboom Kazum

Shaboom Kazum, it sounded like an ‘as seen on TV’ miracle stain removing product on one of those late night infomercials back when the world still watched cable and somehow an hour of advertising was also considered entertainment, though our cultural definition of entertainment certainly hasn’t improved any since those simpler days, at least in this case they weren’t vending alpacas. Whether it was an inadvertent typological disaster on his birth certificate, parents who had apparently been high at the time of his naming, or a modern creation of his own derivation, part artform, part brand, I’m not sure anyone knows, but considering his personality and position in life, the latter wouldn’t be surprising. The man possessed of this curious moniker, yes a man, no laundry product was this, was my first target, whatever his taste in late night television or his opinion of camelid husbandry, the man was going to die.

Don’t get me wrong, I might be a hitman, er hitwoman?, but I’m no murderer, if a killer I be, though I haven’t technically killed anyone, on purpose at least, though as a former medical student I can only hope the supervising physicians and professors caught any of my mistakes that might somehow be life threatening to the few patients I had the chance to actually work with during my education, not that anyone would even think to give so pathetic a thing as a third year medical student any greater responsibility than paperwork, late night vital sign checks, and floor sweeping, but perhaps an unwitting cloud of dust left behind in the room of a touchy asthma patient might have proved fatal and I would never know. How Shaboom Kazum was to die really didn’t matter, be it trampling by a herd of diminutive camelids or asphyxiating after an attempt at cleanliness, I only knew that he must and it would not be very long in coming.

You might wonder how such a trifling creature as an aspiring physician suddenly changes her mind to become a world-class assassin, especially with all those school loans to pay off and there being rather dubious compensation for up and coming murderers for hire, especially those with no kills to their name? That’s a great question, one I’ve asked myself dozens of times in the last three hours, because prior to that I was just a plain, forgettable, slightly absurd medical student and now I’m the penultimate secret agent, complete with ninja skills, and I didn’t even have to waste seven years of higher learning and accrue six figures worth of school debt in the process.

It was just another Tuesday, as most Tuesdays are, as I slipped out of my third floor apartment into the wan grey of a frosty predawn, ready to trek the three blocks to campus for another rousing day of academic narcolepsy. My classes, clinical duties, homework, and basic life support activities, not including sleep, left me only two or three hours a day to indulge in just that, leaving me and my compatriots rather groggy most of the time, and when our professors insisted we take classes like neurology and embryology in a darkened room while listening to the soft-spoken professor ramble on in a strange and rhythmic language we little understood, even if it was English, for an hour or so, especially right after lunch, well you understand. Stifling a yawn, I trotted off to class, trying to get my sludgy blood pumping, but unable to outrun the nippy morning or even another yawn.

I stopped suddenly and glanced off to my right, thinking perhaps there was a slinking cat or a feral dog that I had caught out of the corner of my eye, but there was nothing there. I shivered, thinking the day was strangely growing chillier by the minute, I set off again, but had not gone more than three steps when I thought I almost saw another blackish shape, vaguely the size of large cat, this time in the shadows abutting the storefront to my left, but again it was just my dire lack of sleep and that three day old pizza I had choked down for breakfast playing tricks with my mind. I smiled wryly at my own jumpiness and took another step, but this time when I stopped, it wasn’t a barely perceived shadow but a guy in a business suit and sunglasses standing immediately to my right, looking almost exactly as the famed Mr. Smith in The Matrix, though I can never now watch the same actor as Elrond and suspend the necessary disbelief to admit he never actually says, welcome to Rivendell, Mr. Baggins, talk about type casting!

But this guy didn’t look like he was interested in a rousing conversation of nerd culture crossover potential or its impact on internet memes, but he certainly looked as intimidating as ever his namesake did, and his speech pattern and tone were just as sharp, stern, and precise, as he ordered, please get in the car, Ms. Brooke. I couldn’t see a gun but that didn’t seem to make his insistence any less daunting, and while I doubted this was a surprise trip to Rivendell or anywhere near so pleasant, I really didn’t have much choice. I got in the car, a dark sedan of venerable years, parked alongside the adjacent curb. I scooted to the middle next to Mr. Smith II while the first climbed in and shut the door behind him. Mr. Smith III revved up the nicely quiet engine, and off we drove, a fourth of the same persuasion sitting in the front passenger seat, all staring blankly out the window, menacingly silent, and as alike as most Tuesdays are rumored to be.

Twenty minutes later, though it felt like eons in that heavy and awkward silence, I’m not even sure the guys were breathing, and certainly not flipping through the local radio stations sampling the morning fare, we pulled up alongside a nameless, colorless, three story office complex. I was marched inside, as if for interrogation, but what could I know to interest the Smith clones? I wasn’t that exceptional of a student that I was worth hassling to steal test answers for our upcoming pathology exam, and I’m sure they most certainly weren’t interested in the last two slices of pizza now moldering in my fridge.

We entered an equally unremarkable and drab office, grey being the predominant and only color scheme. Two took up posts on either side of the door while one stood behind my chair, a rather rickety plastic thing, the chair not the Smith, and the original speaker, I think, sat across the equally chintzy table from me; nobody took off their sunglasses or even offered me coffee, the thought of which brought on yet another yawn.

I am sorry if this bores you, Ms. Brooke, said the spokes-Smith, I was rather surprised his dripping sarcasm wasn’t pooling on the table, but you are in grave danger. At my wry, but grim, smile, he hissed, but it isn’t from us, rather we want to help you. I wanted to smirk and say sarcastically that this sure was a funny way to go about it, but I wasn’t given a chance to speak, nor is it as easy to be snarky aloud as it is in the secret halls of your mind when under the eyeless stares of Smith, Smith, Smith, and Smith Inc. I schooled my features to a solemn neutrality and allowed the foremost Smith to resume his curious offer, said he, you have been targeted by a group of radical fundamentalists who are determined to destroy you over your professed faith.

I blinked at him in disbelief, almost confident this guy could pull off playing a believable elf before I’d be the target of such a menace, but then again I was here with the Smith Clones when I should be sleeping through the finer points of immunology, unless this was a dream, and one only slightly less disturbing than my neglected class. He smiled, a terrible sickly thing, as if he had learned to do it by watching himself in a distorted mirror, but he meant it to be reassuring, as he continued, I know it is hard to believe, but so it is. I am authorized to negotiate with these villains, and I believe there is every chance that they will desist in their intentions, if you can correct their misperception about your supposed faith.

I frowned at him in incomprehension, are you saying the only way I get out of this alive is to disavow my religious beliefs, if any?

Yes, replied he, but that should be of little matter in this enlightened age, especially to a woman of your intellectual prowess. There is no longer any social stigma for not belonging to one church or another, indeed, it is rather the opposite, as serious church attendance or devout belief will mark you, in the eyes of the world, as radical an extremist as those threatening your very existence. You are free to dabble in a little spirituality if you like, certainly an innocent diversion in small doses, especially with enough variety of breadth and experience, but it certainly can be nothing serious enough to bet against your life. His smile was lousy at projecting comfort or commiseration, but he had a malicious grin down pat, as he added, and if you are interested in such things, perhaps we could tempt you down a different path, one that leads to power and even immortality rather than death!

I shuddered at that smile and whatever it portended should I be foolish enough to accept, but said only, and if I don’t feel like rescinding my personal beliefs or discovering yours?

He shrugged, then I can do nothing for you, Ms. Brooke. These malevolent killers will fall upon you without mercy and you will die. But can your faith, such as it is, really be of more value than your life? I wanted to quip something cheeky about then not having to pay back my student loans, but all I could do was shudder again. Finished he, so be it, Ms. Brooke, enjoy the rest of the day, for verily, it is your last. He stood, one Smith opened the door and the one behind my chair manhandled me through it and down the stairs and outside. They all hopped in their car like a bunch of militant clowns clothed as undertakers but I highly doubted they were off to something so vibrantly colorful and alive as a circus, leaving me standing on the corner wondering if it was all a ridiculous dream or if perhaps I was unwittingly starring in the fifteenth Matrix spin-off. Even if my hours were numbered, and whatever Mr. Smith meant by his offer of immortality, at least profitable film franchises would never die, no matter how much the audience might wish to when forced to pay for the privilege of watching another installment of bad cinema that makes the Teletubbies look profound.

As I was mulling over the ramifications of such a metaphysical conundrum, or more likely just standing there vacant eyed in shock, a merry voice, that sounded like kindness itself, asked politely, you seem lost or in trouble, can I help?

I turned wondering eyes on this astonishing apparition, who didn’t seem at all out of place or remarkable, save her complete lack of social indifference which one urban dweller unconsciously bestows upon another, no matter their respective troubles, worries, or fears, making me wonder if she was a small town lady just moved to the metropolis, as yet unaware of the unwritten rules of urban living, but her real warmth and concern was a balm to my stymied emotions and mental shock, strangers though we be. I could at last quirk that wry smile and quip, just as long as you aren’t a radical extremist set to kill me, something that was impossible in the presence of the Smith gang and their cold, cruel indifference and contempt for all others, almost reptilian in its malice, though certainly far more rattlesnake than gecko.

She smiled hugely, as if at some private joke, but said cordially, I’m afraid I will have to kill you, but it doesn’t have to be quite yet. You look like you could use some coffee? My mouth fell open in a silent rebuff to this obvious joke, though I did nod my head wanly in acceptance, vaguely thinking it rather strange that this seeming assassin would offer the condemned a last cup of coffee when the Smiths, seemingly my potential protectors, couldn’t be so bothered. She smiled in kind understanding, placed a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder, and the next moment we were standing on a far different street corner, perhaps a quaint little tourist town rather than a grey urban office park, outside a ridiculously quaint tea shop, one apparently quaint enough to have a bouncer.

I’m sorry Gloria, said the frazzled hostess to my companion, as she attempted to do such an egregious thing as enter the front door of a public business during normal hours, as if it was some sort of exclusive nightclub rather than a neighborhood café, but I can’t allow your companion to come in, even for you! The rules are the rules. The woman smiled grimly and finished, though she certainly looks like she could use a good dose of the house special.

The worst it could do is kill her, persisted my assassin friend, and as I’m going to do that anyway, what is the problem?

I’m sorry, truly I am, replied the firm but gentle hostess, but you can no more defy the rules than I can, adding wryly, though come to think of it, I at least have the option to break the rules, you have no choice whatsoever!

Quite, smiled Gloria grimly, as if about to have a tooth pulled with no anesthesia of any sort, but adding brightly, but then again, why not be about my business and then have coffee afterwards, though I truly did want to speak to you about it beforehand, but in your current state you would hardly be able to process anything, to say nothing of my inability to actually tell you anything interesting ahead of time. The barista bouncer nodded happily, as if any of this made sense, as the kindly but mad woman placed her hand on my shoulder, you really don’t mind, do you dear? I could only blink in wonder before the woman smiled in anticipation and the hostess disappeared into the shop, a sudden, terrible light engulfed everything, as if a painless shaft of lightning fried me where I stood, and then I blinked again, mostly to clear the after effects of such brilliance from my eyes.

Come right in, ladies, smiled the hostess broadly, as she escorted us to a cozy little nook in a quiet corner of the shop. She hastened off and returned with two steaming mugs, apparently of the house special, but I had eyes for nothing but the curious occupants of the place. Tiara smiled knowingly at my wide-eyed bafflement, as if a kid face to face with a real oliphant, elves mostly, laughed she, as if a pixie herself, along with a couple fairies, a leprechaun, and a trio of dwarves, added she with a wink, as she trotted off for the carafe to refill the latter group’s mugs, they prefer a dark roast with no additions, while the fairies take almost straight cream and sugar with just a dash of coffee!

What’s going on?! said I, though I feared it was rhetorical and I’d be trapped in this insane fantasy movie forever, at least if it was a successful franchise and spawned countless spin-offs, sequels, and the inevitable prequels.

Try some of the coffee, assured Gloria, already half done with her own.

I shrugged, figuring at least if it killed me there were probably less pleasant ways to die, a strange pleasure washed through my being and across my face as I sampled the brew, my turbulent and wondering mind was suddenly clear, quipped I, now that’s coffee! Gloria could only smile the more and finish her own even as Tiara dashed up to offer seconds, I could only savor mine and muse that if one must be sucked into a fantasy movie, this certainly seemed like a pleasant and interesting one, and rejoice that it wasn’t the Matrix or peopled only by an unending parade of Smiths.

Mr. Kazum? I inquired, finding myself in the man’s extensive office suite and much marveling thereat.

The man looked up in surprise, probably even more startled than me to find an intruder suddenly within his private and sacrosanct demesne, his own holiest of holies, though with far too much gilding for my taste, but seeing something in me that apparently intrigued him, he smoothed back his thinning hair, straightened his shirt, and leaned back in his massive wing-backed chair, sorry, Miss…?, I didn’t realize I had an appointment, usually my secretary reminds me of such important matters, but apparently she forgot to remind me, now what can I do for you? That’s what he said, but his knowing wink and self-assured attitude rather implied, ‘what are going to do for me?’

Autumn Brooke, Mr. Kazum, quoth I, and I’m here to discuss… I trailed off as he seemed to take sudden offense, as if astonished I aspired to discuss anything rather than to just stand there and look gorgeous or something equally tedious.

Interrupted he, that would be the Reverend Doctor Kazum, miss, now if you would excuse me, I have a lot of work to do, but if you have any other questions, please feel free to pick up an autographed copy of one of my several autobiographies in the gift shop, on your left as you exit the building.

But Reverend Kazum! protested his astonishing guest, This is important!

Whatever it is, miss, I am sure it will be addressed in my books, replied he, starting to get snippy at my persistence, but the truly important thing is allowing me to get back to work; some of us have multi-billion dollar international ministries to run! I could do nothing except annoy him further at the moment, so I left by the door, which certainly wasn’t how I had gotten inside, but as I exited the inner sanctum, at least I saw that the secretary wasn’t at her usual post at the moment, happily preventing that much of an awkward interlude, though her phone buzzed repeatedly, probably her boss wondering why she let me in in the first place. I grinned in amusement and actually stopped by the gift shop, curious to learn more about my target.

Gloria met me at the coffee shop in the lobby, one of three in the massive structure, the whole thing seemingly as garish as Shaboom’s startling office, her smile pure mischief as she took a sip of her cocoa, absolutely refusing to drink any sort of coffee not served by a pointy eared barista, said she, as I settled down beside her at the tiny little table, I don’t even need to ask how it went.

It didn’t, I replied, smiling grimly and strangely not envying her her substandard beverage, now what oh ingenious one? I have the feeling that I’m not allowed off this case until we’ve had our little tete-a-tete?

Precisely, grinned she like a wizened and impish gnome, or perhaps a gnomish imp? I smiled predaciously as I showed her my recently acquired homework and she nodded in approval, know thy enemy, you’ll get the hang of this in no time!

Asked I glumly, but what happens after I give him the spiel and he still isn’t interested?

What happens to everyone who rejects Him, dear, sighed she, such is mankind’s great gift and his great tragedy.

Isn’t this a rather difficult first assignment for a neophyte? asked I, All you had to do with me was invite me out to coffee!

That’s why I’m here, grinned she.

I feel like a student driver! I protested but could not hide the relief in my voice, at which we both laughed long and hard.

The Doctor Reverend Shaboom Kazum, as he styled himself, was quite an intriguing character, the very head of a huge multinational nonprofit that included the Kazum University, from which Shaboom had received his honorary doctorate and whatever he possessed of theological knowledge, which might be as thorough an education on the subject as one can get by reading the back of a box of cereal. While there was just enough Jesus name-dropping going on to make Kazum’s organization sound like a legitimate church and ministry, it seemed far more like He was a corporate sponsor and enthusiastic endorser of the Reverend Doctor Kazum rather than the recipient of his worship and reverence, which was obviously Shaboom himself.

I wasn’t quite sure how to get back in with the man, as obviously a sneak attack hadn’t worked, but then I saw a poster for an upcoming ‘Celestial Beings Conference’ and eagerly assaulted my grinning mentor, who thought it an excellent chance to try accomplishing my task once more. I glanced around at the spacious but mawkish lobby, the main auditorium just visible down the corridor, its cavernous maw ready and waiting to swallow unwitting souls whole like a pit of unrelenting night. I sighed, to think what good this man could have done, all the damage he has inflicted!

Quite, shuddered Gloria, but no more need be said between us on the topic, for that great empty blackness was an excellent metaphor for itself and this man’s tragic career and seemingly inevitable fate, though the world applauded him, we two at least knew the truth. Perking up, Gloria said in a far brighter tone, let’s go visit Tiara and have some coffee whilst we muse upon the whithertos and whyfors. We exchanged a smile as brilliant as the light that suddenly consumed us.

Tiara was just locking up, turning the open sign around to closed, and preparing to go home for the day, but as we appeared with an equally glorious burst of radiance, rather than something a little more muted and better suited to a dusky autumn twilight and the end of a busy day, she had no choice but to entertain us and our madness, whatever it might turn out to be. She winked knowingly and scampered off to put the coffee on, while we made ourselves at home in our former nook. She meandered over with some leftover pastries and sat down between us in the empty chair, the coffee’ll be right out, but what can I do for you ladies?

Gloria shook her head in bemusement, that I wish I knew, but then that’s only too typical in this business. Autumn has found herself a most difficult client and I’m forced to tag along as it is her first time.

You are the one who got me into this, smiled I, taking a bite of an apple cinnamon pastry, happily not the least bit dry, but then this was an elvish pastry, it was probably six months old, so you cannot say it is undeserved.

That I cannot, smiled she, like a pixie plotting trouble, suddenly I wondered why it was she didn’t have a mentor or a keeper in tow to prevent any mischief on her part, at least I had no clue what I was doing so had very little chance of accidentally blowing anyone up, much like my life as a medical student, but she looked like she was ready and willing to do just that to any number of unwitting folks, reminding me eerily of a couple of my more cantankerous professors and their thoughts concerning students and interns. My smile deepened, for had she not just done that to me this very morning!

Tiara left us to our banter but returned shortly with the necessary beverage, pouring for each of us as she said, so you’re only here to plot and plan and perhaps get away from worser surroundings? You aren’t here to murder anybody or stop some nefarious plan?

You know I try not to bring my work with me when I visit, grinned Gloria over her cup, glancing sideways at me, save when said work needs a bracing cup of the very best!

Asked I of that imp in human guise, just what do you do besides kill people?

Gloria shrugged, mostly that’s it, though anything and everything may be asked of any and all of us at any time, but certain individuals have a more consistent duty than the rest of us.

Who is us? I asked, too baffled and eager even to take another bite of that enchanting pastry. Gloria only grinned like a smug cat, and if she had been a cat, I might have whacked her, but not knowing her full proclivities at the moment, I didn’t dare, she might unmake the universe or something, or worse: spill her coffee and upset Tiara thereby, to say nothing of wasting such a fabulous brew!

But happily Tiara took pity on all of us, perhaps anticipating just such an outcome, and said with a knowing smile, as that dread mentorish thing grinned all the smugger, don’t worry about her dear, extracting information from her is worse than pulling teeth, but I can tell you a little bit and the rest you’ll figure out as you go along. Just let her grin as much as she wants, it’s best just to ignore her when she’s in such a mood. She met my eager gaze with a very motherly smile, all kindness and warmth, and continued, I suppose you were rather confused as to why I wouldn’t let you come in earlier? At my nod, she continued, it is all part of the rules that govern interactions between immortal and mortal folk, namely we can’t alert the mortal residents of the world to their fairyfolk neighbors, which means this exclusive café is off limits to mortal folk.

I nodded in understanding but glared good naturedly at that still smug but silent woman to Tiara’s right, I wondered what she did to me, I suppose she fulfilled her promise of murder and mayhem at that precise moment?

Exactly, agreed Tiara, taking a sip of her coffee from a most dainty and elegant little cup, perfectly elvish though rather grandmotherly in taste, she unmade your mortal self, and henceforth, at least while you linger this side of eternity, you are beyond time, death, and corruption. You’re a Lightbearer, that’s the name of your peculiar but noble occupation, and your grinning patroness over there is a Recruiter, which it seems you are like to be as well, as your first assignment is of just that sort and she’s stuck following you around for a mission or ten.

My eyes narrowed as I asked that widely grinning Gloria, will you tell me what a Recruiter is or make this poor lady do all your work for you?

We kill people, smiled that marvelous murderess but with nary a trace of malice.

Which people? asked I, rather aghast.

Whomever He sends us to kill, shrugged she, at my continuing horror, she smiled wanly, set down her cup, and placed a concerned hand on my shoulder, easy dear, it isn’t as bad as all that. It isn’t as if they’d go on to lead long and happy lives save for our meddling, rather when He says a life is over, it is over, be it our light or a stroke or lightning, it is ended.

At this astonishing thought, I sat back and took a bracing sip of coffee to settle my reeling mind, what a difference a day could make! They let me process in silence for a few minutes before I leaned forward and asked, what are we recruiting for, the Lightbearers?

Certainly not, chuckled she like a pixie with hiccups, we have no say as to who is recruited into this strange business, rather for His Kingdom. Some of your jobs will be easy, like mine this morning, the victim was already His and merely needed to be permanently importuned. But often our targets are a far harder nut to crack, like your friend Shaboom. Our job is to make sure he knows his choices before the final moment of his mortal life, but only he can choose. You may be asked to kill the man or something else may happen, but your most important duty is to see that he knows what’s looming, even if he refuses to believe it.

What if he gets a better offer? asked I, after licking the cinnamon residue from my fingers, apparently not a faux pas even in fairyland, at least if Tiara’s very satisfied smile meant anything, though she frowned slightly, not understanding my question, and I was pretty sure that was something we had in common, little knowing from whence the words had come.

You mean the Smiths with whom you had an interview just this morning? asked Gloria, doing a valiant job suppressing a looming bout of smug triumph.

My jaw dropped, you mean that’s their real name?!

She didn’t bother to hide her amusement this time, after the first movie came out, how could we call them anything but? Perhaps in another generation the name will evolve again, but the nature of the beast doesn’t change, it is still the same foe. What did they offer you, protection from me?

Pretty much, I agreed, though only at the cost of my faith. I picked up my cup and grinned widely, and look what it earned me, the best coffee in the world!

No, replied Tiara staunchly, but mischief glinted in her bright eyes, the best coffee in the known worlds, I’m sure there’s a better brew out there somewhere, Beyond all this, but while we tarry here, we might as well enjoy the best. We raised our cups and toasted to just that before indulging in a hearty sip and a merry laugh.

As we calmed to some semblance of rationality once more, Gloria finished, the Smiths will certainly be after your difficult friend, they’ll certainly want to make him into another of themselves but also maintain his influence in society. As she spoke I dug around in my bag of recently purchased literature, tossing a couple of the autobiographies on the table to get them out of the way, as I fished around for the flyer I had picked up at Kazum’s headquarters, I couldn’t call it a church.

Tiara barked a laugh as she looked at my choice in reading material, even the fairyfolk have heard of this guy! It seems like a strange obsession for a Lightbearer, unless he’s your target?

That he is, agreed Gloria, looking longingly into the depths of her empty cup, but joy comes with not only the morning but third helpings; Tiara being an excellent hostess, didn’t leave her to suffer over long.

No wonder the poor girl needs help! cried the elf lady in wonder, He’ll be one impossible nut to crack! She glanced thoughtfully at the both of us, I take it ambush didn’t work and that’s why you showed up here to drown your sorrows?

Precisely, agreed Gloria, though she might insist that you think things through for yourself she is never averse in telling you when you’re right either.

Finally finding the flyer, I put it on the table where everyone could read it without having to stand on our heads or perform any other feat of literary gymnastics, that we could plan our next move. Asked Tiara with a slight frown, does this guy really think he can boss angels around?

I smiled grimly, it wouldn’t surprise me, but rather from what little I’ve caught from clips of his services and conferences, rather he’ll use the promise of such a visitation to extort more money and devotion from his followers, if they will just send enough money and have enough fervent excitement, the angel will appear. And even if the angel doesn’t appear, he’ll have a couple folks on the stage who claim to be able to see and communicate with them even if they won’t reveal themselves to the unwashed masses. I glanced at Gloria, who was in nowise feline at the moment and asked, have you ever met one in your undoubtedly long and glorious career? Do we work together on occasion, or is that a whole other branch of the service?

They’re around, smiled Gloria, most of the time you can’t tell them apart from any other average Joe, though you’ll never mistake one for a Smith.

Or a Smith for anything else, laughed Tiara.

"Just what is a Smith, oh sagacious one? Just before my capture, if I can call it that, I had the impression of being stalked or herded by a shadowy dog that I could only glimpse from