A Second Generation Whateley Academy Story

A Leprechaun Walks Into A Bar

by

Domoviye

 

Boston,
March, 2016

The small Irish pub had seen better days. The entrance was so new it still smelled of fresh paint, but everything else was old, heading rapidly to run down, that included the few patrons who sat on the cracked bar stools or leaned on the scarred old tables, drinking beer from mugs that were almost as old as they were. One red haired man, on the small side and prematurely aged, wearing a green suit, sat apart from the rest, smiling, drunkenly content with the world.

He was Darby O'Gill, leprechaun, mage, and as far as he was concerned, the most important person at the bar. No one could remember a time before he'd been at the place, and his bar stool was reserved only for him. Even new patrons who came in for a cheap glass of Guinness instinctively avoided using that stool, no matter how crowded the pub might be.

The door opened and a newcomer came into the pub. He didn't fit in with the usual clientele. He was too young, too clean, he needed another decade or two of hard living, and a few disappointments, than he'd be perfect.

The young man walked straight over to Darby. “Mind if I have a seat,” he asked.

Darby's wrinkled face and bloodshot eyes lit up. “Please do. It's always a pleasure to see a new face. What brings ye here?”

“I'm Tim Pierce. And I'm here because I'd like to talk to you, actually. ”

“Ah yes,” the tiny man said, his chest swelling with pride. “You must of heard how I defeated a supervillain. It's quite a tale if I do say so myself.”

“I did hear about that. But I'm more interested in learning about you.”

“Tell ye what, laddie. You buy the drinks and I'll tell you my story. It's a good tale if I do say so myself. You probably won't believe me, but in my youth, I was quite the looker, if I do say so myself.” He gave a theatrical sigh. “Alas, time is a harsh mistress.”

Grand Rapids, Michigan
April, 1974

Kimberly O'Connor wheeled her bike around the garage and went inside her best friends house. “Hi, Mrs. Moore,” she said.

“Hello, Kim. Amber is in her room, there's snacks on the table for you,” Mrs. Moore said, not looking up from some papers she was looking at.

“Thanks,” Kim said, grabbing the bowl of chips and heading upstairs.

Amber was laying on her bed, looking through a Rolling Stones magazine. Kim dropped down beside her. “I come with chips,” she said.

Her friend ignored the food. Instead she asked, “What's the big news that you couldn't tell me on the phone?”

“My eyes changed colour! They look so cool now.” She opened her eyes wide revealing the pretty clover green iris's that seemed to be glowing.

“Whoa! That is amazing. How did you do that?”

She shrugged. “Haven't a clue. I woke up this morning and they were like this. Mom said it's probably something to do with puberty, and since it doesn't hurt and I can still see, I shouldn't worry about it.”

“You know that everyone at school is going to be so jealous of you.”

“I know!” she squealed with glee. “What do you think Mitch will say about them?”

“Since he's already head over heels for you, he'll love them. Want to go to the mall and get something that'll go with the new look? We can stop by Camelot Music and pick up the new tape by the Bee Gees.”

“Yeah!” Jumping off the bed, the chips forgotten, Kim was heading for the door when a wave of dizziness came over her. “Whoo! Head rush,” she said, clinging to the door frame to keep from falling.

“What is that?!” Amber screeched, pointing at a basket of dirty clothes in the corner of her room.

A tiny figure dressed in green with a bulbous nose was digging through the clothes like a rat. It squeaked with glee and held a pair of dirty panties like they were a treasure. Then it hopped down to the floor and ran under the bed.

Amber was too scared to get off the bed, and could only scream. Kim wasn't much better, using the open door as a shield in case it came towards her.

Mrs. Moore came running up. “What's wrong?” she demanded.

Pointing under the bed, Kim managed to say, “It's under there.”

Grimacing the woman got on her hands and knees and looked under the bed. A few moments later she reached under, pulling the underwear out. “I didn't see anything but this. What exactly did you see?”

For some reason she didn't believe the two girls as they tried to tell her a little man had stolen the panties and ran under the bed. Twenty minutes later Kim was sent home, so Amber could have a nice long rest.

“I'm telling you Ashley, I really did see little man. He looked like a leprechaun,” Kim said, trying to make her older sister believe her.

“Did you hit your head in the last week?” Ashley asked, not looking up from one of her medical textbooks. She was in her second year of college to become a doctor and had a bunch of medical texts, which she read religiously. Whenever she got the chance to play doctor she leapt at it.

She rolled her eyes, no one was listening to her. “No. I just woke up and my eyes had changed colour. And I'm not seeing things, Amber saw it too, and she saw it first.”

“Your eyelids aren't drooping and your eyes aren't recessed. So it doesn't seem to be Horner Syndrome.” Her older sister reached out to grab her head, making Kim lean back. “I just want to check that you don't have any bumps or bruises you didn't notice.”

Rolling her eyes again, she said, “I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting hit in the head.”

“Maybe not. If it was bad enough the trauma could make you forget and you'd just think you have a headache when you recovered. I'm going to tell mom and dad you need a doctors’ appointment. This could be serious.”

“I hate doctors.”

Ashley rubbed her hair, which Kim hated, she wasn't a kid anymore. “Do you hate me?” her sister asked.

“No, but I'd hate having you as my doctor.”

“And that's why I'm insisting you go to another doctor, instead of relying on me.”

She snorted as her sister left the room to talk to their parents. This whole thing sucked. She'd just wanted to spend the day with her friend and show off her cool eyes and now there were weird things running around, she was going to the doctor and no one believed her.

A knock on her door took her away from her moping. David her sixteen year old brother was standing in the door with one of his books. “What do you want?” she demanded.

“I think I know why your eyes changed colour twerp,” he said. Without waiting for permission he walked over to her bed and put his book down. It was one of his hero and villains books, open to a page with what looked like a superhero team on it. He pointed at two of them, one man who looked a little like a fantasy dwarf, from one of the books David was always reading, the other a cat-like woman.

“These are Bantam and Scratch-The-Cat, they used to be members of the St. Louis hero team, The Gateway Guardians,” he said. “Look at his eyes, they're slate blue, and her eyes are like a cat, a lot of mutants have eyes like that. And you woke up with green eyes, no one normal has eyes that colour of green.”

“You're saying I'm a mutant?” Kim wasn't sure if she should be interested, annoyed or disgusted that he thought she was a mutant. Those guys were kind of scary, and a lot of them seemed to end up being supervillains. She didn't want to have anything to do with that kind of stuff. But having powers could be cool.

“Yeah, it makes sense. My superhero books say that most mutants start to change around your age, you have the weird eyes, and you said a little man was running around. I haven't heard of that power, but it could be you created a construct or summoned something.” He was talking quickly, his voice getting a bit squeaky, he was excited to have a chance to talk about one of his favourite subjects.

“If I was a mutant, shouldn't I be able to fly or lift a truck over my head or something?”

“Not all mutants have those types of powers. Mephisto the Mentalist was all about mind control, and Dr. Amazing creates incredible machines. Maybe you have magic.” He pointed at a Black woman in his book. “She's Madame Mystique, she said she wasn't a mutant, but who knows if she's telling the truth.”

Somehow it seemed that her annoying brother might have a point. Her eyes really weren't a natural shade of green, and mutant superheroes and villains had to come from somewhere. “So if I'm a mutant, how can I learn what I can do?”

“Have you felt anything weird?”

“I felt pretty dizzy when the creepy little man appeared,” she admitted.

“OK. You said the man was really small, like the size of your hand right?” She nodded, which made him grin. “Maybe you opened a portal to somewhere else and brought over one of the little people that pop up in folklore. A leprechaun or brownie or something.”

“But I didn't do anything except walk to the door.”

“Maybe it was like a muscle spasm, you just did it automatically. Lisa has a lot of fantasy books, and a few books of spells. They never worked for her, but they might work for you. I'll see if she can come over tonight after supper.”

She nodded, a smile creeping onto her face at the thought of casting magic. “OK, let's try it.”

Sitting in the backyard because she didn't want David or his girlfriend in her room and she refused to go into his filthy room, Kim looked doubtfully at the so called spell book. It didn't look like a real spell book. It was made of cheap photocopied pages, with a poorly done cover. The title, 'Modern Sorcery and Spells' was smudged, and crooked.

“You're sure about this?” she asked.

“Yeah, the Wiccan newsletters all rave about it,” Lisa said.

That wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement coming from the flaky girl who wore too much purple and black, and jangled when she walked from all the jewellery she wore. Still, it couldn't hurt to try a spell.

Opening the book, she saw a spell for creating a dancing light, it looked simple enough. She just had to wave her hands around in a certain way and say some words that were spelled out phonetically. Easy.

Taking a few minutes to look it over, practice the words and hand motions and she was ready. Picturing a small glowing light in her mind, she went through the motions and said the words. When she finished it felt like she'd run a couple of laps at gym class.

Gasping for air, she didn't notice the feeble light at first, or David cursing in shock, while Lisa giggled. Then she looked up and saw a tiny firefly like light dancing in the air. It quickly faded away as if it never existed, but no one could deny it had been there.

“I did it!” she whispered.

The moment was ruined when the tiny green man appeared again in the flower bed, yelling curses at all of them.

August, 1974

Looking at herself in the mirror, Kim wondered what was happening to her. Throughout the summer she'd been changing, and not for the better.

She turned away for a minute to squash one of the tiny men that kept popping up near her. They'd become so common her family treated them like an annoying bug now, either ignoring them for a minute or two until they vanished or hitting them so they popped. It was just another bad thing that came from her being a mutant.

Turning back to the mirror, she studied her reflection. Her sandy hair was turning red. Not outrageously red, but as her long hair fell out it was quickly replaced by thick red strands that grew halfway down her neck and stopped. Her cheeks were getting puffy and her jaw and cheekbones were thickening. Worst of all she was starting to get facial hair.

Running a finger down along her chin, she sighed in disgust, she'd have to shave soon. Her fingers were weird too. They seemed to be getting wider and blunter, and her knuckles looked more like her dad's, big and thick.

If this was part of being a mutant, she didn't want it.

The doctor couldn't tell her much. He'd never dealt with mutants before, and her parents weren't sure about going to a specialist. So she was stuck, not knowing what was going to happen, or what she was going to look like.

Going to her bookshelf she pulled out one of her newest spell books. Lisa had given her all the ones she owned, some worked better than others, but this one was one she'd gotten on her own. It was a properly published book at least, with a hardcover and everything.

Opening it up to the bookmark, she looked over the spell again. It was supposed to show what she would look like in the future. Nothing else, no details of what she would do, who she would meet, or something important, just the most likely appearance barring accident or death.

Going to the kitchen, she got the glass salad bowl and a steak knife. Fortunately everyone was out, so she didn't have to explain what she was doing. Filling the bowl up in the bathroom sink, she brought it to her room placing it in the middle of her floor. Lighting ten candles, she marked out each point of a pentagram and the vertices of the inner pentagon, making sure the bowl was in the very center of it.

Taking a seat with the bowl in front of her, Kim said the words, not understanding what they meant, but believing they would work. With the knife she slashed her thumb, letting the blood drip into the water. Still speaking, she watched the blood swirl in the water, becoming cloudy. The outline of a face began to take shape.

Pushing her will into the water, she kept speaking, demanding the face appear in detail.

Instead of a womans face, an old, red haired man appeared. He was wrinkled, with bloodshot eyes, a bulbous nose, and cheeks that were covered in thin red marks. The eyes were sad, a clearly fake smile was plastered on his face. Opening his mouth a large mug full of what looked like beer appeared and was drained in one long gulp. The man burped and laughed, wiping foam, beer and drool from his lip with the back of his hand.

Screaming, Kim scurried backwards to get away from the image.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “That can't be me. That can't be me,” she said, practically chanting to herself.

Deep inside, she knew she was lying to herself.

November 1974

Kim finished packing her bag. Her family was all out, going to school or work, she'd stayed home claiming to be sick. That wasn't a lie, her stomach roiled and cramped.

She knew why it was happening and the thought sickened her.

Her face didn't look like her anymore. She didn't look like a boy yet, but she was going in that direction. She could feel her body changing, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Taking the letter she'd written earlier, she placed it on the bed. She couldn't properly explain why she was running away, it was too humiliating, but she had done her best.

Taking one last look at her room, she wiped away the tears that threatened to fall. Closing the door, she went to put on her winter clothes. She had to hurry if she was going to catch her bus out of town.

It was best for everyone that she leave before she became a freak.

Boston,
March, 2016

Darby O'Gill broke into a grin when the door to the pub opened and the handsome young man from the previous night entered the establishment. “Finley, a pint o' Guinness for my young friend, and a new one for me,” he said.

“Thank you, Darby,” Tim said, taking a seat.

“I'm surprised ye came back after I talked your ear off last night. I guess me storytelling skills are still as good as ever, if I do say so myself.”

The young man smiled, making Darby's heart surge with delight. “You are a very interesting man. You said yesterday that you were once a superhero, can you tell me a bit about that?”

“Oh I wasn't one for very long. It didn't really suit me, ya see. I'm not one to go looking for a fight, I'm more of a lover than a fighter, if I do say so myself. But if ye really want to know, I can tell you a bit of it,” he said.

“It sounds like a good tale, especially if you're the one telling it.”

Puffing out his chest, Darby beamed with delight. “Well, I'm not one to turn down a chance to tell me story. Let's see, it was quite a while ago.”

Greenwich Village,
New York,
November, 1980

Liam rested his head on his newest dates shoulder. He couldn't remember the man's name, not that he really cared, it was only for the night. And the man wanted to be called Daddy anyways. It was all the same to Liam, a way to pay the bills, and get a free meal along with some drinks. The drinks were the best part, being close to someone was almost as good.

His tiny size and boyish good looks made him popular in the area. The red hair, done up in a neat ponytail was a nice touch, it was all natural and went well with his bright green eyes. He was known as the Leprechaun by most of his clients and friends. He liked the nickname, it helped put everything at a distance. Mixed with the alcohol and he could slip away into his persona, the happy, fun-loving little man who was always ready for a party.

Taking a sip of his margarita, he dutifully laughed at the joke 'Daddy' had made, running his hand over the man's bald head. His date was supposed to be some businessman or lawyer, getting away from his family for a night of hedonistic fun. It fit with how handsy he was.

Putting the drink down, Liam got up, grabbing his dates tie and dragging him to his feet. “Time to dance, Daddy,” he said, planting a big kiss on the man's lips.

On the dance floor he did most of the work, the man had two left feet. That was fine with Liam, he lost himself in the music, not caring where he was, who he was with, or anything else. The alcoholic buzz and the sensation of the moment was all he needed.

Screaming brought him back to reality.

Gunshots rang out and Liam had to struggle to stay on his feet as people rushed past him. His 'Daddy' had already vanished, leaving him alone.

Through the chaos he saw a man holding what looked like a machine gun. He was shouting something that was impossible to hear over the music and screams. Raising the gun to his shoulder he took aim at the fleeing patrons.

Liam raised his hand and channelled essence into the spell he'd placed on his watch. The gunman froze, locked in place by a skintight shield of hardened air. The only gap in it was at his mouth so he could breathe. The spell had helped keep Liam alive on the street and as a prostitute for years, he knew the man wouldn't be able to move for at least ten minutes, no matter how hard he fought it.

There was no one between them, so he walked up to the maniac and placed a hand on his shoulder. Whispering a spell, the gunman fell asleep, still held up by the shield. Releasing the first spell, the man fell bonelessly to the floor. Liam grabbed the machine gun, placing it well away from them. Then he checked to make sure there weren't anymore weapons, taking anything that could be dangerous, and pocketing all the money in the man's wallet.

Seeing that everything was safe, he turned his attention to the two wounded people. They were being looked over by some guys that had come back when they realized the gunman was dealt with.

“Step back,” he said, kneeling down beside the man who seemed to be in the worst shape.

Healing spells hadn't come easily to him, but he'd needed to fix his own injuries and illnesses often enough that he'd picked up a few tricks. Taking a knife out of his pocket, he slashed his palm and began chanting. Using the blood that dripped onto the floor, he drew some runes he'd learned from a madman in a bitterly cold warehouse in Detroit when he was fifteen. The bloody symbols glowed, the light twisted and bent, lighting up the injured man.

Over the next minute the bloody wound in the mans chest stopped bleeding, and his breathing became a little less laboured. He was still pale and unconscious, but it looked like he might have a chance.

The other man was holding a shirt on his thigh, cursing and sobbing in pain. It looked like he'd live without any help. Going back to grab his coat, Liam headed out the backdoor, not wanting to attract any attention. He'd probably need to leave town, maybe he would go to San Francisco, it was warmer than New York.

Late the next day Liam was packing his few possessions into a battered duffle bag. He didn't feel great about leaving so suddenly, his roommates would be stuck trying to pay the rent without him until they found a replacement, but ultimately that wasn't his problem. They shared a bathroom, a kitchen, and talked sometimes. It wasn't like he hadn't left people in the lurch before.

There was a knock on the apartment door. Sighing, he went to answer it. Looking through the peephole he gasped in shock, at seeing the very last person he'd expect. The Guard stood there in his dark blue and white suit, complete with a full face mask. The relatively new superhero wasn't one of the big shots in New York, he mostly dealt with street crime around The Village and surrounding area, where he was gaining a growing number of fans.

“Liam Murphy, can you open the door? I'd like to talk to you about last night,” Guard said.

Not sure what to say, Liam opened the door and stood there, speechless. Was he going to be arrested? He hadn't done anything wrong, just defended himself and others. He hadn't even hurt the gunman.

The superhero held out his hand. “If you don't mind, I'd like to shake your hand. You did a hell of a job last night and saved a lot of people.”

In utter disbelief he took the hand. It was large and strong, but even though it engulfed his tiny hand, it was gentle and felt protective. “Uh, thanks.”

“Do you mind if I come in? There are some things we should discuss.”

“Right, right. Come in. Would you like a drink?” It felt like a dream where nothing made sense and he couldn't do anything right.

“No thank you,” Guard said, clearly holding back a chuckle.

They took a seat at the battered kitchen table without saying anything for what felt like hours. Liam ran his finger over some of the scratches, looking at everything except the hero. What was he supposed to say?

Guard broke the silence. “I've been watching you for a while. Seeing you in person, you really don't match the person I had envisioned.”

“What?! Um, why were you watching me?”

“You've used magic to protect yourself before. Finding a known criminal held in a magical trap, having a few claiming they were attacked by a small guy with red hair that could cast magic, it caught my attention. I started asking around looking for people who fit the profile. You were at the top of my list.”

“I was just defending myself! I never looked for trouble,” Liam said.

The hero held his hands up, motioning for him to calm down. “I believe you. Young guy like you, fake ID, the dangerous way you make money, I'm guessing you're a runaway.”

Looking away, Liam didn't deny it. It wasn't like it mattered.

“It's OK, I'm not judging. I have a good idea of what you went through and what you're going through now. You haven't hurt anyone, and are just trying to get by, I respect that.”

For the first time Liam looked the hero in the face. It sounded like the man really meant it. It had been so long since someone said they respected him he didn't know what to say.

“You have a talent with magic, it could be a big help to everyone if you used it properly. Healing people, safely stopping criminals so no one, not even they get hurt, with the proper training you could become someone great.”

The hateful face of what he'd become filled his vision for a moment. Drunk, living a lie, pretending to be happy. He thought of how he went to bed drunk or nearly so every night. He was racing ahead to that future. Was this a chance to break out of it?

“I'm not a hero,” he whispered.

“The news is saying differently,” Guard said, reaching out to hold his hand. “And if you want I can take you on as a partner, teach you how to use your powers for good. You don't have to be a superhero, your healing spell would be very valuable in the right situation. Did you graduate high school?”

The sudden question threw him for a moment. “No. I ran away when I was fifteen.”

“How about this, you come live with me, officially working as my personal assistant. I'll hire some tutors so you can get a diploma, and get you some proper ID that will pass a regular background check. In return, you stop drinking so much, and you begin training. You can train to become my superhero partner, or work on your healing magic to help people. Either one is good for me.”

“Why would you help me like that?”

“Because I nearly ran away from home when I was fourteen. My parents weren't keen on my being a mutant or gay. When they caught me packing up to run away, they had a change of heart. They still aren't thrilled, but they accept it and let me live my life with their support. So when I was following you, saw how you were living, and your potential it made me think how easily I could have ended up in the same situation.

“If you agree to this, you will be working. My parents gave me a nice graduation gift, and I used it to start day trading. I do quite well at it, but between it and being a superhero, I don't have much time for taking care of daily things, like eating, properly cleaning, remembering appointments, and things like that. You'll be expected to keep things running smoothly, and I'll work with you in the evening and into the night. If you hold up your end, in a year or two you'll be ready to go to college, join me as a superhero, or get a job using your magic.”

“I-” Once again Liam found himself tongue tied, What was he supposed to say to an offer like that? Really there was only one thing he could say. “OK.”

Guard took his mask off, revealing an Adonis-like face with brilliant jewelled eyes. He was grinning which made Liam's heart race. “I'm happy to hear it. You won't regret this, Liam. And when I'm not in costume you can call me Eric.”

He started to cry. He couldn't help it, he wanted them to stop, he hated crying, but his eyes refused to obey his brain. “Thank you,” he sobbed.

New York,
March, 1982

Leprechaun looked down from the rooftop where Guard had left him. His partner had gotten word that a gang war was about to break out, and the opening shots would be an attack at the rival hangouts. So he was now sitting out in the rain, getting a cramp waiting to see if the tip was good or not, when he really just wanted to be at home wrapped up in a warm blanket holding his lover and forgetting the outside world existed.

At least he was dry, his anti-rain spell worked as well as ever. That spell had proven very helpful during his years on the street, at least as important as his warming spell.

He was about ready to call it a night when three cars pulled up to the dive bar and a bunch of men with guns, got out. A few of them started firing as soon as they were out of the car, not caring if they hit their rivals or innocent patrons.

Slapping the runes he'd drawn on the roof earlier, Leprechaun channelled a large amount of essence into the prepared spell. A wall of force covered the side of the building, stopping the bullets in midair. Taking a marble from his pouch, he charged it with essence and whipped it at the gang members. When it hit the ground the spell activated, creating a thick green cloud that was nearly impossible to see through.

Guard who had been under cover on the building across the street flew down into the cloud and disappeared from sight.

While he was worried that his partner would get hurt, Leprechaun was pretty sure things would be OK. Guard couldn't handle the whole gang by himself normally, but with the smoke making the gang effectively blind, it would be a pretty easy fight.

When the smoke faded away, Guard was sitting on the hood of a car, surrounded by restrained and battered gang members. Leprechaun jumped down from his position, using a spell to make the landing not only survivable but easy. Now that the fighting was over it was his job to make sure no one was going to die.

By the time the police arrived, he'd checked that no one in the bar had been hit by the few bullets which had gone through the windows. The attackers had also had any major broken bones or dangerous concussions dealt with. The bruises, cuts and broken fingers were left as a reminder of their stupidity.

They went with the police to file a report, and sent a report to the MCO. Then near dawn they were able to return home.

Stripping out of his green costume with its white trim, Liam couldn't wait to hit the shower. But first he needed to check something.

“OK, let me get a look at you,” he said, turning to his partner and lover.

Eric, who looked as beautiful as ever, spread his arms letting him get a good look at his naked body. There were a few bruises, nothing too bad, but he'd do a minor healing spell on them just to be sure. Going to his back, he winced at a nasty welt near his spine.

“You were shot. Why didn't you tell me you got hit?” Liam demanded.

“I didn't feel it at the time, and then we were busy with the police. It only hurts a little,” Eric said.

Sighing, Liam placed his hand on the bruise and spoke a healing spell. “There, but I want you to take it easy today. Give your body a chance to heal.”

Eric picked him, kissed his lips and grinned. “That works for me,” he said, tossing Liam onto their king sized bed.

Laughing, Liam held his arms out as Eric landed on top of him.

Leprechaun and Guard sat together on top of a building, watching the world go by below them. They were supposed to be on patrol, but since they were their own bosses, they were taking it easy, treating it more as a casual date than actual work.

“So now that you've got your GED, what do you plan on doing?” Guard asked.

Leprechaun shrugged. “I don't really know. I'm thinking that going to study medicine as an adult student could be good. I don't know if they'll let me use magic, but something like a paramedic, or a nurse, or a physical therapist would be nice. I don't think I could be a doctor like my sister.”

“Your sister's a doctor?”

“She was studying to become one. She'd just started her third year when I ran away.”

“You've never told me about your family. Do you have anymore siblings?”

“A brother, he was sixteen when I last saw him.” He smiled under his mask. “He'd be so jealous of me right now, he was a big superhero nut. His girlfriend was too, but she was also into magic. She gave me my first spell books.”

Guard touched his hand. “They sound nice. So did you run away because of your parents?”

He shook his head. “They were mostly clueless. They didn't know what to do about my magic, so they just told me no summoning demons and no spells that could hurt someone.”

“So... why did you run away?”

Biting his lip he wondered if he should tell Guard, Eric, what he had once been. “Because I was changing. I didn't want them to see what I was becoming.”

“You didn't want them to see you with red hair and green eyes?” Guard asked, the confusion was obvious in his voice.

“I changed a lot more than that. My name was Kimberly.”

He waited for the explosion. The threats. Being told to leave and never come back. Liam knew they were coming, he was a freak. But he couldn't lie to Eric, not after everything the wonderful man had done for him.

“Huh. That explains a lot,” Guard said, sounding more surprised than disgusted.

“You're not mad?” he asked.

“What you expect me to go, eww, you have girl cooties!?” Guard asked, wrapping him up in a hug. “I've met people who have turned into metal, a fish girl, and a rat man. My own eyes turned into actual gem stones, which still have the doctors scratching their heads over how I can see. You at least are still one hundred percent organic and human.”

Sniffling, he hugged Guard back. “You mean that?”

Kissing his mask, Guard nodded. “Yes I do.”

Curling up in his arms, Leprechaun took off his mask so he could wipe the tears from his eyes. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. So your parents and family don't actually know why you ran away?”

“I left them a letter, saying I was changing. But they didn't know I was becoming a boy,” he admitted.

“I think you should send them a letter.”

He froze as every muscle in his body tensed up.

Guard rubbed his back and kissed his forehead. “You miss them, and you didn't give them a chance to see who you were becoming. Send them a letter, I'll give you an anonymous return address so they can't track you down, but can send you a letter back. Ease them into things, see how they take it. If things go well we can set up a meeting and see them. I'll be by your side the entire time, and we can take it slow so you're not overwhelmed.”

“What if they hate me?”

“Then at least you'll know, and can leave them in the past with a clean conscious.”

He thought about it. He did want to see his family again, but what would they say when they saw him? How could he handle their looks of disgust? What if they yelled at him? He wasn't their daughter anymore. He was a freak. The image of his future self rose in his mind, laughing at him.

Guard gave him a squeeze. “Think about it. You have time, I'm not going to push you.”

Taking a leap of faith, Liam said, “I'll do it.”

Amazingly the world didn't open up and swallow him. The sky didn't fall. No one even laughed at him. Instead for the first time in years a weight seemed to be lifted off his shoulders.

It had taken hours to write, and several false starts as the crumpled up paper that littered the writing desk proved, but Liam was finally done writing his letter. It was shorter than he'd thought it would be, but he didn't know how much he should reveal right away.

Mostly it was an apology about running away, a few things to prove it was him, and letting them know he was safe, but thanks to his mutation looked very different. He didn't know if he hoped they'd reply or they'd refuse to even look at it.

Sealing it in the envelope he wrote their address on it. Eric had called someone to make sure his family was still at the same place, so that was one less thing to worry about. The return address was to an anonymous P.O. Box, also set up by Eric. If things went bad, it would be hard for anyone to track either of them down.

“All done,” Liam said, taking a seat beside Eric who was reading some files about stocks. Since he wasn't in his office, Eric wasn't in the middle of anything important and could be bothered.

Kissing his cheek, Eric grinned, which still made Liam feel weak in the knees. “Great, I'm really proud of you. We'll mail it when we go out for dinner. Where would you like to go to celebrate?”

“How about that new Italian place around the corner? Then maybe we can go dancing and get some drinks in the Village.”

That earned another kiss. “Sounds good to me. And you can have three drinks tonight because we're celebrating and you've been so good.”

Liam nodded and kissed him back. He had been a borderline alcoholic when they'd first met, and one of the hardest things had been going mostly sober. Now he could take a drink or leave it without a problem, but it was still better to play it safe.

Eric went back to his files, so Liam turned on the TV, keeping it low to avoid disturbing him. Flipping through the channels he stopped at the news. In big letters was 'Live Breaking News', on screen an armoured figure was fighting the Red Rocket outside of a bank.

“That's just two blocks away!” Liam blurted out, recognizing the bank.

“Is that the Iron Warlord?” Eric asked, getting closer to the screen to get a good look at the jerky picture. “It is.”

The Iron Warlord was a new villain to the scene, and very tough. He'd been making a name for himself in a series of large robberies along the East Coast over the last few months. Seeing him slash through a car with his sword, made Liam's blood run cold.

“What should we do?” he asked.

“I can't take him alone,” Eric admitted. “But with you and Red Rocket, we could slow him down until the big shots get there. We can be there in less than a minute.”

“Are you sure? We've never fought anyone this strong.”

“If we can help take him down, we'll really make a name for ourselves. We'll have a chance at getting sponsors, contracts, interviews.”

Liam could hear the need in Eric's voice. The need to prove himself, to be the best. This was his best chance to do it, supervillains didn't come around everyday, and dealing with street level crime while helpful wasn't exactly a way to draw a crowd.

Despite his fears, Liam smiled. “Let's get our suits on.”

Ten minutes after hearing the news, Leprechaun and Guard landed by the fight. The police were well back, keeping civilians from getting hurt, there wasn't much they could do against Iron Warlord. Anything short of anti-tank weapons probably wouldn't scratch the armour.

Red Rocket was looking the worse for wear, but he was still in the fight. The red clad hero swiftly moved around the slower villain, using rocket propelled jumps to keep ahead of the energy beams and bullets. Whenever there was an opening he surrounded himself in a glowing red aura and rocketed at the armoured villain, hitting like a truck, then jumping away.

“What do you want me to do?” Leprechaun asked.

Guard took a moment to think. “Create some illusions to draw Warlord's attention. I'll let Red Rocket know we're here and work on a strategy. Stay back, keep him distracted, use shields as you see fit, if we get knocked down, set up a smoke cloud.”

Ducking behind a car, he chanted and drew a symbol in the air. Five little men dressed in green, each one no more than three feet tall, jumped out from behind some cars and ran towards Iron Warlord, shouting curses and waving shields and clubs. For a moment everyone stopped, staring in confusion at the crazed little people.

Then the little men started shooting green and red fireworks from their clubs. They exploded around Warlord, likely blinding his sensors, and making a horrific racket. The villain retaliated with his own weapons. Most of them missed, the illusions dodging out of the way like acrobats on crack, hooting and hollering at each 'miss'. The few shots that hit were seemingly  absorbed by the shields, resulting in more cursing and taunting.

Guard and Red Rocket took cover in an alley behind Iron Warlord. Leprechaun couldn't tell what was being said, but it looked like they were working together. He'd need to keep the villain distracted just a little bit longer then the two front line fighters could take over.

Since his magic was doing so well, Leprechaun followed up his major spell with a marble. Pushing a bit of essence into it, he threw it towards Warlord, watching as it bounced and rolled towards the villain. When it was close enough, he gave it a final burst of essence and released the spell.

There was no obvious change, but if the spell worked properly only people in a twenty-foot radius would be affected. Anyone in the circle would feel like they'd just finished an epic bender, at least when it came to their vision and balance.

He had to laugh as Iron Warlord began stumbling around like a drunk. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Guard and Red Rocket left cover, circling the confused villain. Seeing Rocket surround himself in the red aura, Leprechaun dropped his drunken spell, so no one else would be caught in it. The after affects of it still had Warlord dizzy, so he was knocked flying by the crimson hero.

Dropping out of the sky, Guard hammered the armoured villain into the pavement. He didn't risk sticking around, and flew away at head level in an erratic pattern getting out of sight behind some cars. Bullets tore through the car, but Guard hadn't stopped moving, and the gunfire came nowhere near him.

The five illusionary men were still yelling, cursing and sending fireworks at Warlord, adding to the villains confusion. The man sat up and started getting to his feet, when Red Rocket slammed into his back, knocking him onto his face.

Guard flew up into the sky and dove planting his feet into the back of Warlords head. The metal helmet actually got a small dent in it.

Seeing another chance to cause trouble, Leprechaun cast a shield spell over the villains foot. Warlord tried to stand up and found his right foot stuck to the pavement. Red Rocket roared in hitting the villain in the back again and Guard followed it up with another stomp.

They didn't need to wait for the big guns. They were going to take out the dangerous villain by themselves.

Warlord lay face down on the ground, seemingly immobile and down for the count.

“Surrender Iron Warlord. You can't win against the three of us,” Guard said.

“Go to hell,” the villain growled. With his head still down, he tossed a large ball away towards Guard.

Leprechaun raised his hand and began casting a shield spell in front of his lover. Red Rocket blasted away. Guard flew straight up.

The ball exploded, sending a wave of plasma in all directions.

The blast of heat was mostly spent by the time it reached Leprechaun. It still set fire to his costume and burned his flesh. He was able to turn his head away in time to save his eyes. He fell to the ground screaming in agony.

White foam enveloped him. Red Rocket, his suit badly singed was standing over him spraying him down with a fire extinguisher. “Stay down, paramedics are coming,” the hero said.

“Guard?” Leprechaun asked.

Red Rocket knelt beside him, grabbing his hand. “He's going to be OK. You've been pretty badly burned. Just stay down. The paramedics are going to help you, and Guard will be here in a few minutes.”

He had to see Guard. Pushing Red Rocket away, he struggled to his feet. The street was a blackened ruin, the cars that had survived the fight were half melted, some of them were on fire. Iron Warlord was nowhere to be seen. And then he saw Guard.

The blackened figure was barely recognizable as human. Guard had been turned to charcoal, when he fell his body had broken. A few parts could be found, a part of his arm, his helmet, part of his torso. The rest was shattered into small chunks and powder.

A wail ripped its way out of his throat. Ripping the burnt mask from his face, tears fell from his scorched eyes, bringing some small relief to his burned and blistered cheeks.

Red Rocket hugged him, trying to give him some comfort. Not understanding just how Guard's death had broken him, but realizing it was well beyond a simple friendship. “Hey, stay with me,” Rocket said. “We're going to get you healed up. I'll help you out anyway I can. Then we'll go after the bastard. But first you need to heal. Got that. Let the paramedics help you.”

The words were meaningless to Leprechaun. Who could help him now? Eric was all he had. Without him, he was nothing. Whispering a spell, he stunned Rocket for a second, just long enough to slip out of his arms. Grabbing a marble he dropped it to the ground filling the street with a green mist.

Leprechaun ran away.

There was nothing for him now. The burning pain that made every movement agony matched the pain in his heart.

He had to get away. If he got far enough away maybe the pain would stop.

Boston,
March, 2016

Tim was sitting at the bar when Darby came out of the bathroom, two glasses of Guinness sat waiting for him to take a seat.

“Well hello again. It seems like we've got a new regular,” Darby said, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Is it the Guinness or my charming personality?”

“It's mostly you, Darby,” Tim said. “You've gotten me curious, you've lived such an interesting life this seems like a step down.”

He didn't answer right away, taking his time to drain his glass. “Ah, that hit's the spot. Aye, this is a step down. But everyone has to retire and take it easy eventually. Still I keep myself busy. Can't just lay around too much, that's how the Dullahan gets ye before your time. Nope, gotta be doing something good, if I do say so myself.”

Boston,
January, 2016

Looking at the pile of bills that lay scattered on his kitchen, Darby sighed. He'd spent too much at the pub again, now he had to worry about the rent, electricity, gas, phone, food, and most importantly alcohol. Shuffling over to where he'd left his cheap second-hand phone, he called his occasional employer. It was the only number he knew that wasn't for a take out place.

“Good day, sir, it's Darby. I'm wondering if ye need my services?”

It wasn't a nice day, it was cold, blustery and damp. The kind of day that made Darby's bones hurt. Still he walked down the street towards the old brownstone building, his old, worn out coat zipped up tightly, his gloved hands in his pockets, trying to stay warm. He desperately wanted a drink, but it was easiest to do the job while sober, or at least as sober as he ever got these days.

He saw the eyes watching him from the windows. The people thought they were being careful, to most people they were. Darby wasn't most people, he'd had survived a long time on the street, avoiding the people who preyed on the weak and hopeless. He hadn't lost the skills he'd learned in that unforgiving school.

He knocked on the basement apartment door that was tucked away beneath the stairs leading to the brownstone proper. His body tingled a little, he didn't know what they did in the building, but whatever it was required a lot of magic.

The door opened, a handsome middle-aged man in a smart button up shirt and trousers smiled down at him. “Darby, it's a pleasure to see you again. How have you been?”

“I've been well, Noah. Thank ye for asking. I hope you've been well,” Darby said, gratefully stepping into the warm room.

“I have been. Let me take your coat, would you like anything?”

Handing over his coat, Darby headed for his usual seat. “A cup of tea would do me a world o' good, if I do say so myself.”

A woman came out of the kitchen, carefully balancing a tray with three cups of tea in her good hand. Her left arm was in a sling. Darby had never asked what had caused it, he was too polite. But from the pale left eye and the small dent on her temple, combined with the gun under her sweater, which he had never seen her without and the knife hidden in her sleeve, he assumed it had been violent.

“Thank ye kindly, Nancy,” he said, taking a sip of the tea.

“It's my pleasure, Darby,” she said.

When he'd first been hired by Noah, he'd been watched by three large men, and they hadn't hidden their weapons nearly so well. They'd slowly dropped away, and three years ago Nancy had appeared. He assumed they finally trusted him enough and knew he wouldn't do anything stupid, but since he was a free agent, they would never trust him enough to be alone with just Noah. He sometimes had to laugh at the thought that anyone would consider him dangerous.

They talked about the weather and sports as they sipped their tea. Safe, simple topics, that didn't reveal anything important, and gave him a chance to warm up. In his ten years of visiting every month or two, Darby still didn't know if Noah had a family, or why they needed his essence. He knew better than to ask too many questions. They paid him good money and never judged him or threatened him. It was a good partnership for both of them.

Finally, he put down his empty cup. “I suppose we should get this over with,” he said.

“If you’re ready,” Noah replied. Leaving the room, the man returned a minute later with a locked metal box. Placing his left hand on a black pad, Noah tapped a code into the digital lock, making sure Darby couldn't see what the code was. With a click the box unlocked.

Lifting the lid up, Noah carefully removed a clay jar. It was painted in patterns that made no sense, and if Darby tried to look at it for too long his eyes watered and ached. It looked ancient, the red, yellow and blue paint had faded and was scratched in places, but there were no cracks or chips in the clay.

Placing his hands on the jar, Darby could swear he felt the eons that had passed from the time the jar had been made to the present day. It was special in ways he could barely fathom. It had seen civilizations rise from the mud and die, and it would see many more after Darby passed on.

He opened himself to the jar. The power within grabbed hold of his essence and began taking it in. It didn't hurt, it wasn't even uncomfortable. The jar didn't want to harm him, it was merely a container, taking what he was giving freely.

Pictures flashed through his mind of others who had done the same. Some weren't human, they were similar in appearance, but they would only be called human by a fool. Most however were human, they wore a wide range of clothes, from furs and hides, to simple skirts, togas, robes, and more modern clothes. He never saw the same images twice. He wondered how many people had given their essence to the jar in the past.

Finally he was done. He wasn't quite drained, but it had taken a lot out of him. Another cup of tea, still steaming, was waiting for him as he came back to the present.

Noah put away the jar and took it out of the room, while Nancy silently sipped her own tea, giving him time to recover.

With shaking hands, he sipped his tea. Some of his energy had returned when he was finally done. He didn't ask about the money, six thousand dollars would be waiting in his bank account as usual. It would cover his bills and beer for at least a month. Smiling at his host, he got to his feet. “Well thank ye for the tea, but it's time I get going. Lots of things to do and I'm not getting any younger,” he said.

Noah walked him to the door and got him his coat. “Thank you for coming, Darby. If you need anything give us a call.”

“I will.” He was about to leave, but something made him pause. “If ye don't mind my asking, you've been getting my essence for going on ten years now. And I know I shouldn't ask questions, but I'm getting old and curious. What exactly do you do with it?”

There was a long pause, the man's eyes looked him over, judging him, then he smiled. “We use it to help protect people, Darby. We know the spells but we don't have the essence. With what you gave us today, we can set up wards of protection, fight the monsters that hide in the darkness, and heal people who need it.”

Darby didn't know if he believed Noah. He liked to think he was good at reading people, but he had made many mistakes in his life. Still he trusted the man, and he still had a little hope in his heart. Smiling back, he patted Noah on the shoulder. “Thank you, that helps put my mind at ease. I'll see you later.”

Stepping back out into the cold, he headed for the bus. He needed a drink.

Boston,
March 2016

Once again Darby was sitting in his pride of place with his new friend Tim sitting at his side. The TV was showing the basketball game between the Boston Celtics, and some team with a stupid dinosaur. Basketball had never been Darby's favourite, but it was something to watch and talk about, as he ate his supper of shepherds pie.

“Can't wait for baseball to start. That's a good Boston game,” he said.

“That it is, Darby. Basketball is OK, but nothing beats watching a baseball game at the stadium with a beer and hot dog,” Tim said.

He nodded in agreement.

“Tell me, you were in the news for taking down that supervillain. What exactly happened?”

Darby chuckled. “Well it's a fine and exciting story, if I do say so myself. It was a night much like tonight...”

February, 2016

Sitting at his stool, Darby could barely keep his head up. He didn't remember how many beers he'd had, he didn't care. He just wanted to get so drunk he'd forget everything. The dreams he'd had last night had kept him awake, and brought back old memories he didn't want to remember. The only way to deal with them when they became too loud was to drink as much as he could, as quickly as he could, until they went back into their hole.

Looking up at the TV, the hockey game wasn't there anymore. When had they stopped showing it?

In its place was the news. Some special live broadcast. Two men in funny suits were chasing and fighting each other while flying just above street. One of them, he thought it was the bad guy from the skulls on his costume, was shooting laser beams from his eyes. The other one was flying in an armoured suit, he had a force field or something absorbing the laser, and was firing missiles at the skull man.

The sight of the armour filled Darby with disgust.

“Finley, bring me a bottle of whiskey and leave the bottle,” he shouted. All of his work that day was wasted, his memories were stronger than ever.

“I think you've had enough, Darby,” the bartender said.

“I'm still talking, I can handle more.”

Finley snorted. “If you tried to stand up you'd fall over and bleed all over my floor. You're cut off for the night. Sit back and rel-”

The building shook, and a loud crash rocked the room. The skull man from the TV was laying in a pile of debris where the door had once been. He got to his feet in an impossibly smooth motion. “You're all my hostages,” the villain shouted, his eyes glowing.

“Oh no!” Darby roared. “Ye don't get to crash into my pub and start shouting that garbage.”

The supervillain glared at him. “I see I have to make an example.”

Darby channelled essence into a shamrock pin he wore on his shirt. A shield popped up, absorbing the laser beams that would have burnt a hole in his chest.

Struggling to remember his restraining spell, Darby began to chant. Then he trailed off, his alcohol addled brain couldn't recall the words. Instead dozens of tiny leprechauns appeared. The tiny things ran riot through the pub, drinking the spilled beer, tossing food around, and attacking the supervillain. They couldn't do much, but having two dozen little men crawling all over him, biting, pinching and clawing as they did, was distracting.

“Get these things off of me!” the villain shouted, slapping and zapping them with his lasers.

“I warned ye! I said you don't get to crash into here. You got Darby O'Gill angry, and no one wants to get Darby O'Gill angry. I'll always get mine in the end!” Darby roared.

A net came down from the sky, hitting the villain and zapping him quite loudly. The villain hit the ground and shook, wrapping the net tightly around him.

The armoured hero landed beside the villain, and after checking to make sure he wouldn't escape, turned to the astonished patrons. “I'm the Boston Knight, who summoned the hobgoblins?”

Darby raised his empty glass. “That would be me, Darby O'Gill.”

“Thanks for the help, old timer. Black Skull is a tough supervillain, your distraction was exactly what I needed. You're the hero of the hour!”

“Damn right I am!”

Boston,
March, 2016

Darby was almost excited as he sipped his Guinness, the young man who came every night was a wonderful listener. Having someone new to talk to was a nice treat, the fact that Tim was a bit of a looker was an added bonus. When the door opened at the time Tim would usually arrive, a smile came to his face, only to dampen slightly at the sight of the pretty woman holding his young friends arm.

Through the pleasant alcohol induced warmth, he noticed the woman was holding a white cane in one hand, sweeping it along the floor in front of her. She was also wearing rose tinted glasses that didn't do much to hide her blank white eyes. The way her sandy brown hair fell around her face reminded him of someone, but he couldn't place it. It wasn't important, he'd met many people in his time, and his old brain liked to play tricks on him.

“Well hello again, laddie. Who is this pretty young lass?” he asked politely.

“This is Dr. Katherine Chance, she's actually the reason I've been talking to you, Darby,” Tim said.

“Hello, Mr. O'Gill,” Dr. Chance said, effortlessly taking a seat and looking right at him. Despite her apparent blindness, he had a strange feeling that she was looking straight into his soul.

He nodded his head in greeting, and then realized she couldn't see him do it. “Pleasure to meet ya, though I can't see why you'd be interested in me. I haven't been to a hospital in years, and I'm still as fit as a fiddle, if I do say so myself. Maybe you're here to give me a physical?” he said, chuckling at his little joke.

She gave him a small smile. “No, I'm here on family business. Do the names Kimberly, David or Ashley O'Connor sound familiar to you?”

For just a moment Darby felt his heart stop. The smile never wavered however, and anyone looking at him would swear he was just thinking. He shook his head. “I'm sorry, lassie, I've never heard of them.”

“Mr. O'Gill, I should tell you I'm a mutant like you. I see auras, and I cannot shut it off.”

The smile began to slip. He took a sip of his drink, it wouldn't do to run away. He had an image to uphold and this was his favourite place. Still as he looked at Dr. Chance now, he could easily see Ashley in her face. It had been decades since he'd seen his sister, yet her image still came easily to mind. “That sounds interesting.”

“I can tell how someone is feeling, if they're lying or telling the truth. I'm your niece, Ashley's daughter.”

“Nope. I can't be your uncle. I'm an only child. Sorry for wasting your time lassie, but I should be going.” He got to his feet, he couldn't stay any longer. She moved like a snake grabbing his hand.

“Ashley and David have spent a long time looking for you. When they saw pictures of your hobgoblins, they thought it might be you. They miss you. You don't have to visit, just a phone call to let them know you're OK will help. Please. David misses his little twerp and mom wants her family back together.” Her voice was gentle, not angry or condemning, just sad.

“I'm not Kimberly,” he whispered. “I'm just an old drunk who wants to be left alone.”

“Uncle Darby,” Katherine said, taking both his hands in hers, “I can tell you're lying. You're one of the loneliest people I've ever seen. We have some idea of what you've gone through. We know about your partner Eric, his parents contacted our family after he died. They showed us the letter and told us about you. You shouldn't have to live with that all alone. Please let us help.”

He wanted to run. A spell came to his lips, it would let him escape. He could get his money and go somewhere else, anywhere else. They'd never find him again. They'd never learn how low he'd sunk, or see what a broken person he'd become.

He couldn't do it. There was no voice in his head telling him what to do. No great insight or hope. He was just too tired to run again. Standing there by the bar, with all eyes on him, he didn't know what to do.

His niece let go of his hands, he let them fall limp at his side. A moment later the niece he hadn't known existed two minutes ago hugged him, he hadn't been held like that in decades. He felt water running down his face and realized they were his tears.

Whateley
Evening,
September, 15th

Shisa walked through the forest, not sure what she wanted to do, just needing to get away from the crowd of students, obligations and rules. She thought about hunting, but she wasn't that hungry. Climbing a tree and taking a nap didn't appeal to her either. She was trying to get a regular sleeping schedule so she wouldn't fall asleep in class.

She stopped, her ears flicking as she heard what sounded like singing. Quietly stalking through the bushes, she found a small dirt path that led to a large tree. Underneath the tree was a small, old man, who looked a little like a leprechaun. He was smiling happily as he sang to himself, something about a lady he had known in his youth, and occasionally taking sips from a flask.

She came out of the bushes and watched him, trying to figure out who he was and why he was there.

“Well hello there kitty,” he said softly, finally noticing her. “Why don't you come over and say hello, I'm Darby O'Gill.”

She cautiously went a little closer.

“You're a big cat, and from the looks of ye, smarter than most if I do say so myself. My niece, Katherine is a teacher here, she's letting me live with her while I get things all sorted. She's a good girl, if I do say so myself. She's told me about one of her students, goes by the name o' Shisa. A shy girl who looks like a cat. Would that be you?”

Shisa nodded.

“Ah well then, any student of Katherine's is a friend o' mine. Come on over and sit. If you like you can have a sip o' my cider. It's the soft kind, I've sworn off anything hard, except a cup o' Guinness before bed and on special occasions. And Darby O'Gill always keeps his promises.”

Taking a seat beside him, she began purring when he stroked her back.

“You're not very talkative. I understand, some people like being the quiet type, and it takes all kinds to make the world. If ye don't mind I can tell a story of my youth when I was much better looking. I've got lots of stories to tell and too few people to tell them too.”

As he nattered on, Shisa listened with half an ear. A friendly person, nice grass, and a cool breeze, what more could she want?

 

The End