Light, Luz Mala, Pinket, Ellylldan, Spook Light, Ignus Gatuus, Orbs, Boitata, and Hinkypunk)
Introduction
Welcome to Harborsmouth, where monsters walk the streets unseen by humans…except those with second sight.
Whether visiting our modern business district or exploring the cobblestone lanes of the Old Port quarter, please enjoy your stay. When you return home, do tell your friends about our wonderful city—just leave out any supernatural details.
Don’t worry—most of our guests never experience anything unusual. Otherworlders, such as faeries, vampires, and ghouls, are quite adept at hiding within the shadows. Many are also skilled at erasing memories. You may wake in the night screaming, but you won’t recall why. Be glad that you don’t remember—you are one of the fortunate ones.
If you do encounter something unnatural, we recommend the services of Ivy Granger, Psychic Detective. Co-founder of Private Eye detective agency, Ivy Granger is a relatively new member of our small business community. Her offices can be found on Water Street, in the heart of the Old Port.
Miss Granger has a remarkable ability to receive visions by the act of touching an object. This skill is useful in her detective work, especially when locating lost items. Whether you are looking for a lost brooch or missing persons, no job is too big or too small for Ivy Granger—but you may be on her waiting list for awhile. Hopefully, you are not in dire need of her immediate services. After her role in recent events, where she was instrumental in saving our city, Miss Granger’s business is booming.
If matters are particularly grim, we can also provide, upon request, a list of highly skilled undertakers. If you are in need of their services, then we also kindly direct you to Harborsmouth Cemetery Realty. It’s never too early to contact them, since we have a booming “housing” market. Demand is quite high for a local plot—there are always people dying for a place to stay.
Chapter 1
What do the names
I had recently discovered that I was half fae. My faerie half is wisp, as in Will-o’-the-Wisp—my father, king of the wisps. It was a lot to digest.
Dealing with my newfound princess-of-the-wisps status was stressful, but business was booming and I didn’t have time for random panic attacks. I used to see a therapist to help deal with my anxiety. Lately, I visited Galliel at Sacred Heart church.
Galliel wasn’t the priest at Sacred Heart, though I usually stopped and said hello to Father Michael while there. Father Michael had helped me with my recent demon trouble, but spending time with him didn’t relieve my anxiety like Galliel did. It wasn’t Father Michael’s fault. He was a good priest, as far as I could tell, but he was only human. Galliel was a unicorn.
I was indulging in my guilty pleasure, Galliel’s adoring head resting in my lap, while Ceff spoke with the priest. This was bliss. I had always wondered what true happiness was like, but never thought I’d have the opportunity to experience it for myself. Somehow, during a catastrophic week that nearly brought my city to its knees, I had found my own. Galliel was a big part of that. So was Ceff.
If I were looking for love on Craig’s List, my singles ad would begin something like, “Must Love Unicorns.” Of course, I didn’t have to look for love online. My heart now belonged to Ceff.
Ceffyl Dwr, or Ceff, was a kelpie. In fact, he was king of the local kelpies. Since discovering my wisp princess birthright, that seemed somewhat fortuitous. It was also extremely dangerous. The kelpie king had plenty of enemies. He also had a murderous, sociopathic wife.
I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I felt like I truly belonged. I had so much to be thankful for; a gorgeous date; an amazing best friend, business partner, and roommate; a wonderful mentor; fabulous new friends; numerous clients; and a pet freaking unicorn.
I should have known that something bad was coming. I have said it before and I’ll say it again; Fate is a fickle bitch.
Most people have skeletons in their closets. I wasn’t born yesterday, and I am fully aware that my boyfriend was born more yesterdays ago than I can count. Since Ceff is a few millennia old, I expect some dusty bones lurking behind the perfectly pressed shirts, faded jeans, and tailored suits—no shoes of course. What I didn’t expect was for Ceff’s skeletons to come storming from the dark corners of his closet with finger bones raised in anticipation of clawing my eyes out.
Ceff was married once. To put it nicely, the woman was a freaking bitch. I’d say the chick was a harpy, but that would insult harpies everywhere and I didn’t want to piss off potential clients. Melusine, Ceff’s ex-squeeze and former queen, was pure malicious evil.
Judging from the memories I witnessed in a psychometric vision I had while hunting for Ceff’s bridle, the woman was also bat-shit-crazy. Coming from me, that’s really saying something. But seriously, what other reason explains a mother murdering her infant child in front of her husband?
Their union, an arranged marriage based on fae politics, may not have been based on love, but Ceff hadn’t been a bad husband. He was attentive to his wife and lavished her with gifts befitting a queen. But his true love was reserved for his sons. Unfortunately, that love would spell their doom.
Melusine became so filled with jealousy that she began scheming how to remove her eldest son from his prized role as heir to the kelpie throne. She framed him as a traitor—a crime punishable by death under kelpie law—and watched with glee as her husband meted out the punishment. But her eldest son’s public execution was not enough.
Melusine wanted Ceff’s love and undivided attention, but even in his grief, Ceff didn’t turn to his wife. Instead he shone his affections on his youngest son who was then still just a babe.
Melusine seethed with envy for the love she felt was rightfully hers. What kind of child steals a parent’s love from the other? Enraged, she dangled the child over a pit of flames and watched as Ceff struggled to save him. His attempts to plead with her, for the sake of their child, only maddened her further. She threw their baby into the fire and, with a flick of her serpent tail, disappeared into the sea.
I had hoped that the bitch had been eaten by a shark, or run over by a motor boat. Maybe she’d remarried some other poor guy and was making big with the crazy in his ocean. I didn’t care, though I was fond of the shark scenario, so long as Melusine was out of the picture.
Too bad she didn’t stay that way.
Have you ever taken pictures with friends and everyone is smiling, but when you see the photos later they are dotted with white orbs? Okay, sometimes those are my people, wisps, but more often they appear like ghosts haunting the picture’s inhabitants and making the smiles seem grotesque rather than cheerful.
Melusine was like one of those photographic ghosts. She was back in the picture, haunting me and tainting the near-perfect relationship that Ceff and I had with painful memories and the threat of violence. The honeymoon was over before it began—and that really pissed me off.
I’ll be turning twenty-five soon and I have never dated anyone until now. I’ve also never been intimate with anyone. The closest I’ve come to intimacy was one magical night with Ceff during the winter solstice. Jinx thinks I’m nuts for cuddling on the couch all night when I had the chance for something more, but for me being held was a huge first step. Nearly twenty-five and never been kissed. But I was getting closer to achieving that with Ceff, until his ex-wife showed up.
