Lattes and Spirits: A Witch & Ghost Mystery by Alyn Troy

Author:Alyn Troy [Troy, Alyn]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Mystic Brews Publishing LLC
Published: 2020-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

14

“My apologies, Mister Rustle,” Elain softened her tone. “Sir Reginald was a dear friend of my family. It was our manor house he left the night he drove off the road.”

“Oh, you’re Macsen’s little girl,” Rustle gave her a smile and sat. “I sit with him on the fae-human racing council. Forgiven if you’ll let me buy you all a good Australian beer.”

“I’m not sure it will go with my salad. Happy to accept, though.” Elain returned his smile.

Rustle ordered a round for us.

Io cleared his throat. “I’ll apologize on behalf of everyone else in the village. We couldn’t find anyone else to run for mayor. Mr Yardley won by default.”

“If that’s the least of your worries, you’ll be fine, mate,” Rustle grinned. “You should try living down the road from a demon portal. Driving like a bat out of Hades to contain the big beasties inspired me to go on the racing circuit. With a cauldron like yours, I fancy you’re a racer too?”

“Only on the lower amateur circuit. We’ve got some smaller races here in the Welsh countryside, but only for fae drivers.”

“That’s what Yerdhead wants, an open race. A big spectacle.” The pixie set pint glasses of beer in front of each of us. “We’ve got the votes to stop it in the Human-Fae Racing Commission meeting this week.”

“Father is looking forward to that meeting. He’s not fond of the idea. Neither is Lieutenant Colonel Reece.”

“We’re back to friends again?” Rustle raised his pint. “Cheers, Big Ears!”

“Same to you, Big Nose!” Elain proclaimed. She raised her glass. I followed along but looked at Io. Each of us raised an eyebrow in our confusion over the insults.

“Excellent,” Rustle tipped his glass to her. “You have been down to Oz, girl?”

“Amongst other places.”

“About the mayor’s idea for a race,” Io said. “You don’t like the race idea?”

“Only dislike the mixing of mundanes and fae. And Yardley. Not fond of him, mate. He was trying too hard to leverage Reg’s name into the event. He wants the race to put a feather in his own cap, not to honor a good man and a good competitor.”

His statement puzzled me. “So you want to block it? Aunt Rose said the valley wants tourism to grow.”

“I’ve a seat on both the board of the Fae Racing Authority, and on the Human-Fae Racing Commission. We try to allow fae and mundanes to compete together only where there won’t be a big spectacle if something goes wrong. Cricket is easy. As are hockey and football—the real kind, not your American pigskin variety.”

“You mean ‘go wrong’ like an almost-military-grade demon escaping in a crash?” I shook my head at the idea of that happening where TV cameras would catch it.

“Exactly,” Rustle nodded. “I keep trying to convince people to separate the few racing events we’ve merged into already. Break them to fae on one day, and mundanes on another. Like we do in Indy.”

“Wait,” I shook my head. “I’ve been to Indy for the 500-mile race.

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