The Writings of Mary Lewys

“Light bulbs.” In the small storage room, Zee pulled down the boxes and tore at the tape. She opened one and tossed it away. She pulled down another box. Her black hair blended in to the ill-lit room. She puffed air like she did after her morning run on the treadmill.

“Really? Light bulbs?” After another swing, Matt paused long enough to see what Zee did.

“What?” She threw another small box filled with smaller boxes of bolts aside.

“Light bulbs – you know,” he swung with another grunt. The pipe knocked the fluttering light straight into the wall. It stuck before sliding slowly down to the floor. It flickered on and off as it went down. “Light bulbs are the fairies weakness?”

“What? No!” Her big, black boot buried itself into a box. Zee grunted as she struggled to pull it out. “Lead. We need lead and lots of it.”

“We’re not going to find it in here.” He grabbed her hand. She reached to touch his black eye, but stopped herself. Matt tugged on her hand as he swerved around the boxes to the other, old door. “We need to get out of here.”

Zee leaned forward as she sat in an old, school desk chair. Her deep, cherry lips reached for the plastic straw. The handcuffs encircling her wrists reminded her of how far she could go. Luckily, she could reach and sip the water in the store-purchased bottle.

“Thank you.” She wiggled her bottom to sit back. The metal of her metal restraints rattled against the metal of the back of the chair. “So, where were we?”

“Why, we went underground instead of under knoll.” It sat across the table. When the light from the dangling, single bulb caught its face, shadows ran into the deep crevasses. It looked human with two eyes, two ears, a nose, and a mouth, but the eyes were large and milky. The nose overshadowed its face, shaped like a summer squash. Square, odd-angled teeth jutted out between thin, chapped lips. Dark hair framed the gruesome face.

“Right.” Zee looked up at the lights dancing over head. Bruised purple, sickly green, and baby-shit brown lights wobbled back and forth. One landed on a rusty, slimy piece of pipe. As it fed, sucking up the filth and decay, the light grew larger. If Zee squinted, she could see a wee human form at the center of the light. As muck and gunk disappeared, the fairies grew in size and shape.

“The green is soft. The green makes us gentle and kind.” It rested its glittered arms on the table. Its skin was as gray as long dead flesh. “We came to the city to grow strong. We are strong.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Matt grunted as a large ball of light struck his bare stomach. His arms pulled on the chains wrapped around his crossed arms and tied to the pipes on the ceiling. He coughed a few times. Light glistened off his sweaty skin. “You’re not so tough.”

“Quiet, human!” It pointed a finger at Matt. Another ball of light struck at his back above the kidneys. He gritted his teeth against crying out.

“You know, I’m not going to argue with you.” Zee sucked on her straw. She smiled when she finished with her drink. “But I have to ask a question. Why so many? You live like forever. Why do you need so many?”

“We are strong. We make a home. We call it ours.”

“Ah. And you’re unwilling to share?”

We are strong.” It beat a fist onto the table.

“That’s all I wanted to know.” Zee slammed her fist down on the table as well. The handcuffs fell to the floor behind her chair.

“If a train comes by.” She glanced behind but only darkness followed. Her eyes were wide. “Doesn’t it seem weird that a train hasn’t come by?”

“Now that you mention it.” Matt stepped in a way to keep the noise of his shoes against the gravel down to a murmur. “An awful lot of people at that last station waiting for a train.”

“Is it making you nervous?”

“Yes.” With a twist of his wrist, Matt lit a small walkway on the far side of the subway cavern. The dull metal handrail tried to glitter in a light it rarely saw. “Want to try again?”

Zee sighed. Her hand rested on his shoulder as she stumbled. “Not really.”

“Please?”

“Matt.”

“Pretty please with sugar on top?” He rolled his eyes. Zee clapped her hands together as quietly as she could before stomping her way across the tracks to the short steps up to the archway. Set deep into the arch, a green, utility door reflected the light from Matt’s flashlight.

She peeled off the fishnet glove that matched her fishnet armbands. With one deep breath, she reached out and touched the rail. Matt held his breath. He stepped closer the longer Zee stood.

“And?”

She blinked.

“Zee?”

“I think we found our door, Matt.”

“It makes sense.” Matt stopped and listened. The factory floor was silent as the grave. Street lights from outside gave enough light through the windows high on the factory walls for Zee to make out the forgotten toys on the conveyor belts, boxes, and floor. She grabbed onto the bottom hem of Matt’s suit coat.

Matt glanced back at her before walking towards a dark, gray door against the back, cinderblock wall. “It was centrally located to all the murders. It would be a good gathering point for newborns.”

“Younglings.”

“Whatever.”

Zee tugged on his coat. “But fairies gather in knolls, under fallen trees, grassy areas.”

“Not if you’re building an army.” Matt wrapped his hand around the rusting door handle. He glanced back. He searched behind him as if he was certain someone or something was following. He squinted his eyes and sharpened his ears.

With a brief glance back, Zee stepped into Matt’s line of vision. She nodded. He pulled the door handle. The metal on metal sound of a large, door grinding against its doorframe filled the air. Zee swallowed as Matt took a deep breath.

The stairs on the other side of the door led down. “What army?”

A clerk with a red poof of dry, frizzled hair approached. She wore a clashing orange sweater that could have been off one of the racks. Her small, brown eyes stared at the black eyeliner, black eye shadow and deep, red lipstick with a certainty that Satan would soon appear. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, no, thank you.” Zee smiled. She held back the laughter from the thought of what she must look like against the setting. “I’m just looking.”

Since she said it, she started doing it. With two strides, her black fingernail polished fingers pushed the soft, tightly woven sweaters along the circular, chrome frame of the floor stand. The clerk didn’t move but watched her – not with the look that Zee sometimes received: the look as if she was no better than a common criminal, perhaps worse. Out of the corner of her eye, Zee saw that the clerk held no contempt or judgement on her face.

When Zee moved on to the next rack, the clerk mimicked her movements. The red-head rested her elbow on the center isle rack and continued to stare. Zee bit her lip and glanced at her once to offer a brief flash of smile. By the third rack, Zee stopped smiling. She stopped pushing hangers and stared back.

“Waiting for your boyfriend?”

“What makes you say that?” Zee turned to pick up a neatly folded, white silk shirt from a white boxed shelf.

“You don’t look like you usually shop here.”

Zee smiled with teeth over her shoulder. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

In her mind’s eye, she could see Matt in his conference room with the guys. All around was evidence collected from the crimes: a map of the city with pin points for body locations, pictures of the women hanging on a cork board by brightly colored push pins, and hand written ideas and notes on a whiteboard. She knew he was pouring over all the information with a new set of eyes. What she hoped for was something that could point them in the right direction.

“Oh.” As if she had all the information she needed, the clerk returned to her post behind the back counter register. She fiddled with the loose hangers in a bin under the counter top.

Zee put the shirt she had no intentions of buying back on the shelf. She walked along the wall and looked at all the pretty clothes other girls wore. The corner of her mouth lifted at the memory of picking out clothes like this when she was so much younger and with her mother. She sighed and shook her head.

From within her square, shiny granny purse, her cell phone rang – not like a bell ring, but it played the Violent Femmes’ song, “Blister in the Sun.” She clicked the two metal balls to open her purse and pulled out the slim, black phone. Its digital display read “Matt.”

“Hey.” Her head tilted to pin the phone to her shoulder. She slipped the handles of her purse over her arm so she could pick up a pair of black pants. “No, I’m done at the coffee bar. I’m shopping. What did you find out?”

The clerk stood behind the counter and watched the pair of pants in Zee’s hands. When Zee placed the pants back on the shelf, she stepped to the return rack and started sorting through the clothes on plastic hangers.

“I’m on my way.” Her finger pressed the button. She dropped the phone into her purse. She clicked it closed and walked out the front door.

“Yeah.”

“Seriously.”

“Used to be.”

Matt walked with a long gate. His practical, soft-soled shoes stepped in light and shadow along the walkway leading out of the monetary. Zee half-skipped to keep up with him. She clapped her patent leather purse with both hands. It bounced from one fishnet stockinged thigh to the other. Her black ponytails bobbed.

“Zee, you’re asking a lot of me.” Matt set to double-checking his person: his gun was tucked under his left arm. His wallet with his identification and badge rested in his front, suit coat pocket. His St. Michael medal was attached to his keys in his pants’ pocket. “Fairies. Wizards. What’s next, the Easter Bunny?”

“Funny.” With a small giggle, she hooked her arm through his and bumped his shoulder. “Everyone knows there’s no Easter Bunny.”

“So, who’s Bendith?”

“Not who. Bendith Y Mamu. Sir Gaerfyrddin found them in the 13th Century in Carmarthenshire, one of the thirteen historic counties of Wales. Bendith Y Mamu means ‘Mother’s Blessing’ which is very funny.” She rounded the corner with him as Matt marched towards the front gates.

“How is that funny?”

“Well, according to most books, these fairies were known for stealing babies and toddlers to raise as their own.”

The mid-morning sun beamed on Matt’s scowl. Zee tilted her head as she watched what she knew where his wheels churning away. His lips grew thinner and thinner.

“What do they want? Babies?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why breed in the women then?”

“I don’t know.”

“What are they doing in my city?”

“Don’t know.”

Matt grabbed the black iron bar attached to the large, wooden door. His knuckles turned white as he yanked. “Zee, what good are you?”

“It seems to me, Mister Detective, this is where you come in.” She patted his cheek before walking out the door.

“Zee, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m a monk, not a priest.” His light blue eyes brought Matt up short as he approached the old, well-polished reading table. The high, stone walls of the monastery library acted like an echo chamber. Luckily, the high, wooden book shelves filled with ancient tomes muffled what little noises the monks manufactured.

“You know I’m just funning you, Marv.” She patted his white, boney hand across the table while wearing her fishnet, black gloves. The monk clutched the corner of a thick book. The characters on the page didn”t look Earthen. Zee grinned her cute little grin. “This is my friend Matt.”

“Ah, the guardian.”

“Something like that.”

Matt nodded at Marv once. He noted the new growth of stubble on the monk’s chin and the mussed black hair underneath the hood. If he had to bet, Matt would have said that Marv the Monk was an ex-junkie on the road to redemption, but he waited for more information before making a decision. Matt pulled out a hard, oaken chair opposite the monk. He waited for Zee to sit before taking a seat in the chair next to her.

“What can I do for you, Zee?”

“Fairies.”

Marv glanced at Matt. He rubbed his chin while leaning back. His chair creaked. “And?”

“We have had a rash of murders.” Matt rested his forearms on the table. The white cuffs of his clean shirt were the perfect length beyond the cuff of his fresh, dark suit. “Women of all races, ages, backgrounds, tax brackets, have been found torn to pieces. We haven’t been able to connect the cases or find a pattern with the killer other than leaving the remains unidentifiable.”

“And you suspect fairies.” Marv folded his hands over his flat belly. His bottom lip stuck out as his closed his eyes.

“We saw close to forty last night,” Zee pulled the book over without taking her eyes off the monk. “That’s really a lot.”

“It is.” Marv rubbed his thumbs together.

“Could the things we saw last night – ”

“The younglings, you know, small, light – ”

Marv sighed. “I know, Zee. I know.”

“Could they be responsible for these murders?” Matt tilted his head as he stared at Marv. He waited and watched, almost ignoring Zee to his right. She flipped the pages of the book without spinning it around. Marv sat, rubbed his thumbs, and pooched his bottom lip over and over.

The trio sat in silence until the last monk left the library. The thick door closed with the softest of wood-against-wood sound. Marv lifted his head. “Yes. When certain fairies enter this world, they require a human host to transcend. But to have so many – fairies are ageless and timeless, walking worlds humans cannot. Our blood assists in their births while it ties them, but they can do things greater than we ever can.”

With a sudden jerk, Marv closed the book before he lifted it up. He cradled it in his arms as he rose from his chair. If he noticed Zee’s fast frown, he gave no indication. “So, to make so many, it would be almost wasteful.”

Matt opened his mouth but Zee’s fingers touched his lips. She shook her head and returned to the dutiful student pose. Matt pursed his lips as he watched Marv the Monk slip the book back into its home on the bookshelf behind him. He turned with a gasp. His light blue eyes turned white. “Bendith. Bendith is here.”

“Bendith?”

“Who is that?” Matt scowled. “And for that matter, who are you?”

With a quirk of his head, Marv blinked as he froze. Zee touched her partner’s hand. “Marv used to be a wizard.”

“Coffee?” Her voice was as pert and chipper as the previous morning when he’d picked her up. Matt lifted his head to focus on the white, take-out cup with a white plastic lid. He took the cup and drank deep of the straight, black coffee.

Zee plopped onto the bench. Her knees knocked as she sipped at her café mocha. She hummed as the delicious mixture of steamed half percent milk and chocolate warmed her belly. “So, do you want to go over it again?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Most people do. Even people who seek out psychics to help with their cases.” She took another sip before cupping her drink in her lap with both hands.

“There are fairies.”

“Yep.”

Matt pushed with his legs until he sat up. He bent to rest his forearms against his knees. He took another long drink. “There are fairies.”

“Matt.” With a soft sigh, she touched the shoulder of his wrinkled suit coat. “You know I can read things by touching them. I’ve helped you before. Is it such a leap to believe in fairies?”

His hand sunk into the armpit under his coat. Metal sliding against rough leather turned her head as he dropped his gun into her lap. She lifted her coffee and pressed her thighs together.

“That’s my life, Zee. That’s what I do. That’s what I am.” He pointed at the gun. His cheek muscles ripped with tension. “Explain to me how fairies fit into that.”

She used her index finger and thumb to pick up his gun by the handle. It hung in the air for a moment before he put it away where it belonged. After another drink, she rubbed his back. “Think of them like a virus.”

“A virus?”

“That’s what fairies do to, well, make more fairies. They infect a host and when it’s time, a fairy emerges and kills the host.”

Matt tilted his head and twisted his neck. “You mean like Alien?”

“The movie or actual aliens?”

“The movie.”

“Oh.” Zee sipped her drink. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Fairies have been killing the women I’ve been investigating as victims of a serial killer.” Matt shook his head. “You know, vampires would’ve been more believable.”

“Vampires are like transfusions.” Zee shifted until she was scrunched against him. “They drain you and if they want to keep you, they give you their blood.”

He didn’t move. His eyes started where her thighs pressed against his and stopped at her shoulders. Matt lifted his chin to stare into her eyes.

“What? I don’t like vampires.”

“You dress like a vampire.”

“It’s so obvious you’ve never met a vampire.”

“Now, don’t look at the lights.” Zee explained with both hands. Her black and white stripped arm bands added the much needed accent to her instructions.

Matt stared. His eyes had dark circles. His hair was a mess. His suit was rumpled from a long day’s run. He stared at her like the last of his patience had just run out.

“I’m serious. Don’t look at the lights. Look over there.” She pointed to a shadow of a leafless tree near the center of the grassy square. Her hand darted away from the corner of her eye. “Look over there but look with – you know, your side vision thingy.”

Matt stared harder. “Peripheral vision?”

“Yeah, that thing.” She squatted lower to wrap her arms around her knees. Her eyes bore into the bark of the tree.

Matt opened his mouth to say something but waited with his jaw hanging open. He studied her for a long, quiet moment before closing his mouth and staring at the tree.

Out of the corner of his eye, Matt saw a shadow and a light move up to the old fashioned streetlight. He didn’t move when it moved away.

“Did you see that?” Zee clutched his hand.

“What was that?”

“Wait for it.”

A few minutes later, three shadowed lights fluttered into the soft glow of the streetlamp before continuing into the dark of the night.

“Zee?”

She turned to face him. “Fairies.”

“Running out?” Zee spit bits of pastry as she dodged a refuse bin. The hem of her pleated skirt brushed the green plastic lid.

“Running out for the girl.” He pulled on her hand until they both stopped. His chest heaved as he stared hard. “You know, the one who’s gone missing? If we don’t find her in seventy-two hours – ”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think?” He shoved his hands into his pockets before he did anything else. He bent his waist to lean over to match her eye level. “Would you like me to escort you down to my office to see crime scene photos?”

“No.”

“He tears them apart. No one has ever seen this much blood at a crime scene.” Matt’s voice echoed off the walls like steel hitting brick. In the far off distance, a dog barked. The thumping of bass called from the end of the alley. With another large bite, Zee stuffed her cheeks until her face billowed.

“No, he doesn’t. They’re not dead. Well, okay, they’re no longer human, but they’re not dead.”

“You’re all right.” Matt grabbed her shoulders and held her away. He scanned her thin frame for any signs of damage. His chest heaved from the flights of stairs and parking lot ran.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shook his head. He stepped back. “I – he – he said that he had you.”

“Who did?” She ran her hand along one of the pieces of pine wood that made up the set. Without a second glance, she looked up at the fly system overhead.

Matt realized that he was in the downtown Shakespeare Theater. He stood back stage lit by a single, bar bulb on a tall, metal stand. Bare of another living soul, the silence and strangeness of seeing the set from behind left Matt with his mouth hanging open. “That man. In the top hat.”

“Oh. Leslie didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“He was helping me.” She pushed aside the purple satin curtain that hung in one of the archways that led to the stage. Zee passed through with her eyes focused a thousand miles away. “He’s playing Don Pedro in the up-coming production.”

“Well, he’s downtown in lock-up.” His hands found their way into his pants pockets. His suit coat rumpled. He followed behind her. “He won’t be doing anything for a while.”

“Really?” Zee pushed on his shoulder as the curtains closed behind him. “What did he do?”

“He said that the girl was dead and that he had you.”

She stopped. Her boots thumped like a drum on the stage as she spun and ran into his arms. Matt stumbled back but managed to catch her and stay up right. He smiled when she squeezed him tight.

“I’m so sorry. He was helping me. He was being, you know, him, and helping me reenact. Oh, Matt, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you and him.” She babbled as she bounced and rocked him like some over-enthusiastic mother. “I found out that he’s an actor, or at least he thinks he is. He’s been here, Matt. I know he’s been here.”