“A friend with a legitimate problem. And you can always go wait in the car.”
Kiyo said nothing, merely steeling himself as we approached the door. Wil Delaney was a former client of mine. He was a conspiracy theorist who almost never left his home and whose sole income depended on a blog he ran that furthered his ideas on the government, aliens, mind control, genetic manipulation, and a whole host of other wacky premises. He was quite possibly the most paranoid person I’d ever met.
He was also Jasmine’s half-brother. It was how we’d met. He’d been the one to hire me to go find her in the Otherworld, long before I’d known anything about Storm King and the prophecy. Apparently, Wil and Jasmine’s mother hadn’t been so virtuous and had cheated on Mr. Delaney a lot-even with gentry warlords.
About a dozen locks unclicked before we were allowed into the house, which was almost as many as Wil had at his own home. The person who greeted us was a woman, a very young one. She was short with plump cheeks, cropped brown hair, and pink cat-eye glasses. “Is this her?” she asked.
A moment later, Wil’s head peered around the doorway’s side. He looked the same as last time: pale blond hair in need of cutting, glasses, and skin that never saw the sun. “Yup.”
“Who’s the guy?” asked the woman suspiciously.
“Her boyfriend. He’s cool. Cairo.”
“Kiyo,” I corrected. I held out my hand to her. “You must be Trisha.”
“I prefer to be called Ladyxmara72,” she said. “Because really, we’re all just anonymous faces in this society, as far as the government is concerned. Plus, Ladyxmara72 is one of my World of Warcraft character names. Ironic that a virtual society like that can be more honest and egalitarian than our own. Or maybe…” She paused dramatically. “It’s not so ironic.”
Wil stared at her adoringly. Beside me, Kiyo made some sort of strangled noise.
They led us inside a home nearly as dark as Wil kept his. I guessed Trisha-I refused to call her Lady- whatever-worried about the same issues with radiation that he did. Her home was neater, however, and bore slightly more feminine touches, like furniture that matched and a few scented candles. The candles appeared to be homemade, undoubtedly so they wouldn’t poison the air with artificial scents or be laced with trackers that the government could use to listen in on Trisha’s conversation.
“So,” said Trisha as we entered the living room. An episode of The X-Files was paused on the TV. “You’re here to take care of the alien problem.”
“I’m here to-what did you say?” I looked back and forth between Wil and her.
“Aliens,” she said. “My house is infested with them.”
I peered around, half-expecting to see E.T. hanging out on the loveseat. All was empty and still. “I don’t really understand. Didn’t Wil tell you what I do?”
“We don’t know for sure that they’re aliens,” he said hastily. “But there is something here.”
“Of course they are!” she exclaimed. He cowered a little under her glare. “I’ve seen them looking in the windows-just like on that documentary.”
Immediately, his chagrin turned to outrage. “Oh, come on! You know that’s a hoax. The evidence is overwhelming.”
“The hell it is! There’s no way anyone could fake that kind of-”
“Um, hey, you guys?” I said. “Can we just get this taken care of? Tell me more about the ali-whatever. Have you both seen them?”
They nodded. “They’re short with big eyes,” Trisha said triumphantly.
“But they wear paisley suit coats,” added Wil. “And they do chores at night.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad to me,” murmured Kiyo. “Why get rid of them?”
“Kobolds,” I said after a moment’s thought. “You’ve got kobolds.”
“There is no known planet by that name,” argued Trisha.
I sighed. “Just take me to your basement.”
Trisha led us through the house, and Wil drifted over beside me. “Isn’t she amazing?” I swear he was on the verge of swooning.
“Your first girlfriend?” I asked.
“How’d you know?”
“Instinct.” Engaging Wil in conversation was always dangerous, but seeing as he never left the house or had much social interaction, I just had to ask the next question. “How’d you guys meet?”
“On a forum. We were both in this thread and kept arguing about whether there was a government connection between the overdoses of Marilyn Monroe and Heath Ledger, and then we-”
“Okay,” I said, grimacing. “That’s enough. Really.”
We reached the basement door, and Trisha started to go down. “Don’t,” I warned. “You guys need to stay up here.” I gave Wil a stern look. “Don’t let her down there until we’re done. You of all people know I’m not fucking around.”
Wil blanched further-if that was possible-and gave a hasty nod. Wil had traveled with me to the Otherworld and fully understood the perils of my job. I could hear Trisha arguing with him as Kiyo and I descended the stairs, yet somehow, Wil managed to do his job and keep her away.
“I never thought it was possible,” said Kiyo, once we were out of earshot. “He’s found and fallen in love with someone exactly like him. I guess there really is someone for everyone.”
“She’s a little more assertive than he is, I think.”
“Good. He needs it.”
“On the bright side, this’ll be cake. Kobolds aren’t an issue.”
Kiyo nodded his agreement but wrinkled his nose when we reached the bottom of the steps. “They’re bad- smelling ones, though.”
The basement wasn’t finished and bore the usual clutter one found in such places. Lots of hiding spots for kobolds. I pulled on a hanging chain, and a bare bulb offered meager illumination. Taking out my wand, I extended my arm and swept the whole basement.
“By the earth and fire you serve, I command you to reveal yourselves.”
Shamanic magic tingled from me, through the wand and its gems, and into the room. A moment later, three forms materialized. They were about three-feet high, male, and hardly resembled the big-eyed aliens popular in modern culture. These guys were wizened, with patchy yellow hair. Wil’s comment about the paisley coats wasn’t entirely accurate either. One wore plaid.
“Why did you call us out?” the one in plaid demanded in a high-pitched voice. “We haven’t done anything to you. We haven’t done anything to anyone.”
“You guys, you can’t stay here,” I said. “Not in this house. It’s not yours. This world isn’t yours.” I was a stickler for world ownership.
“We’re helping,” argued one of the paisley ones. “Do you know how messy these people are? Books and paper everywhere.”
If Trisha’s house had resembled Wil’s before the kobolds arrived, I could well imagine it. Kobolds were kind of like benign goblins, originating in northern Europe and rarely given to maliciousness unless provoked. My hope was that they could simply be talked into leaving.
“That’s really nice and all, but I mean it: you can’t stay here. I’ve got to send you back to the Otherworld. Give me a hard time about it, and I’ll make it the Underworld.”
The plaid one scowled. “You’re as cruel as they say, Eugenie Thorn Queen. We’ve done nothing to deserve this.”
I tried not to scowl right back. Before learning about my gentry blood, I’d often conducted shamanic business under the pseudonym Odile Dark Swan. It was what Otherworld denizens had known and feared me as. I wasn’t thrilled to know that no part of my identity was a secret anymore.
“You guys, I am not screwing around. You know who I am. You know what I can do, so stop wasting time.” Wand still in hand, I began to channel an opening to the Otherworld. “You can’t take on both of us, let alone one.”
“No,” agreed the other paisley one. “But he can.”
“He-ahh!”
Furry hands reached around from behind me just seconds after Kiyo exclaimed, “Eugenie!”
Kiyo was normally on high alert but had been as cocky as me about dealing with the kobolds. His attention
