then get out of there. The sooner we're back in the park the better.'
'Harlem's Friendliest Bar' said a newly painted sign outside. They hurried in. The bar was quiet. A few customers sat with beers, watching the television up on the wall. Unseen, the fairies set to work. They pressed their wine skins to the whisky optics and gathered up tobacco from behind the bar.
'Just like the time we raided O'Shaugnessy's in Dublin,' whispered Maeve, and Padraig managed a nervous grin.
'And did we not get ruined that night!'
It was a smooth operation. Within minutes the five of them were gathered at the door ready to return to their sanctuary.
'Everyone ready?' said Brannoc. 'Okay, let's go.'
'Correct me if I'm wrong,' said a voice behind them, 'but have you just been robbing this bar?'
They spun round, shocked. Standing there were two black fairies, and they did not seem at all pleased.
Unaware of the other-worldly drama on the sidewalk, humans walked back and forth. A group of three men, fresh from a meeting concerning the setting up of a fund to help destitute former baseball players, strolled into the bar to discuss the day's progress. Two construction workers walked in to spend the rest of the afternoon eking out one beer each, because these days the construction business was terrible.
'Construction spending fell 2.6 per cent last year', it said in their trade paper. No one seemed to have any money to give them work.
The barman sympathised with their troubles. His trade was not good either.
Outside, the fairies fled.
Forty-two mercenaries gathered at nightfall on Bodmin Moor in Cornwall. Magris looked down at them and up at
the clouds. Muttering a few words of the old tongue he magicked up a light fall of rain. As a scientist Magris disliked magic, but it had its uses. He waited for the moon to appear.
The mercenaries were homeless fairies from around the British Isles — Scottish Red Caps, English Spriggans,
Welsh Bwbachods, and Irish Firbolgs. They stood, silent and grim, and waited. Twenty-one of the mercenaries
would begin a determined search-and-destroy mission against Aelric, while the other twenty-one were to cross
over to America on the moonbow and capture the fugitives.
Back in Central Park, Tulip was gloomy.
'That was very unfortunate.'
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'Yes,' agreed Petal. 'It should have been nice meeting other fairies. I'd no idea there were any here.'
'I tried my best to be friendly.'
'So did I.'
'I hated it when they threatened us with death.'
They all looked accusingly at Maeve.
'It would have been fine if you had not acted in such a hotheaded manner,' said Brannoc, angrily.
Maeve tossed her red hair.
'They threatened us. No one threatens an O'Brien fairy.'
'Well, it was completely unnecessary to threaten him back with tearing his head off. Is that the way you act in Ireland?'
'Yes.'
Brannoc turned away in disgust. The episode had been a disaster. They had succeeded in gathering supplies but, thanks to Maeve's temper, they had alienated a previously unsuspected clan of black fairies.
'They could have been helpful, you know. Now we'll have to avoid them.'
Maeve would not give in. She said she did not care how helpful they could have been, no one threatened an
O'Brien fairy and got away with it. She drank some whisky and told Brannoc he could go back and make peace if he wanted.
'Though I hope you make a better job of it than the English have done in Ireland so far.'
She donned her uillen pipes and started up a jaunty jig to demonstrate her lack of concern. Padraig joined in on his tin whistle, but the tune he introduced was 'Banish Misfortune'. Although he would not speak against Maeve, he felt that she had not handled things very well. After all, the black fairies did have reason to object. Maeve and he would not have been
'Harlem's Friendliest Bar' said a newly painted sign outside. They hurried in. The bar was quiet. A few customers sat with beers, watching the television up on the wall. Unseen, the fairies set to work. They pressed their wine skins to the whisky optics and gathered up tobacco from behind the bar.
'Just like the time we raided O'Shaugnessy's in Dublin,' whispered Maeve, and Padraig managed a nervous grin.
'And did we not get ruined that night!'
It was a smooth operation. Within minutes the five of them were gathered at the door ready to return to their sanctuary.
'Everyone ready?' said Brannoc. 'Okay, let's go.'
'Correct me if I'm wrong,' said a voice behind them, 'but have you just been robbing this bar?'
They spun round, shocked. Standing there were two black fairies, and they did not seem at all pleased.
Unaware of the other-worldly drama on the sidewalk, humans walked back and forth. A group of three men, fresh from a meeting concerning the setting up of a fund to help destitute former baseball players, strolled into the bar to discuss the day's progress. Two construction workers walked in to spend the rest of the afternoon eking out one beer each, because these days the construction business was terrible.
'Construction spending fell 2.6 per cent last year', it said in their trade paper. No one seemed to have any money to give them work.
The barman sympathised with their troubles. His trade was not good either.
Outside, the fairies fled.
Forty-two mercenaries gathered at nightfall on Bodmin Moor in Cornwall. Magris looked down at them and up at
the clouds. Muttering a few words of the old tongue he magicked up a light fall of rain. As a scientist Magris disliked magic, but it had its uses. He waited for the moon to appear.
The mercenaries were homeless fairies from around the British Isles — Scottish Red Caps, English Spriggans,
Welsh Bwbachods, and Irish Firbolgs. They stood, silent and grim, and waited. Twenty-one of the mercenaries
would begin a determined search-and-destroy mission against Aelric, while the other twenty-one were to cross
over to America on the moonbow and capture the fugitives.
Back in Central Park, Tulip was gloomy.
'That was very unfortunate.'
file:///Users/lisa/Downloads/Martin%20Millar%20-%20The%20Good%20Fairies%20of%20New%20York.html
Page 36 of 99
Martin Millar - The Good Fairies of New York.html
6/5/11 2:11 PM
'Yes,' agreed Petal. 'It should have been nice meeting other fairies. I'd no idea there were any here.'
'I tried my best to be friendly.'
'So did I.'
'I hated it when they threatened us with death.'
They all looked accusingly at Maeve.
'It would have been fine if you had not acted in such a hotheaded manner,' said Brannoc, angrily.
Maeve tossed her red hair.
'They threatened us. No one threatens an O'Brien fairy.'
'Well, it was completely unnecessary to threaten him back with tearing his head off. Is that the way you act in Ireland?'
'Yes.'
Brannoc turned away in disgust. The episode had been a disaster. They had succeeded in gathering supplies but, thanks to Maeve's temper, they had alienated a previously unsuspected clan of black fairies.
'They could have been helpful, you know. Now we'll have to avoid them.'
Maeve would not give in. She said she did not care how helpful they could have been, no one threatened an
O'Brien fairy and got away with it. She drank some whisky and told Brannoc he could go back and make peace if he wanted.
'Though I hope you make a better job of it than the English have done in Ireland so far.'
She donned her uillen pipes and started up a jaunty jig to demonstrate her lack of concern. Padraig joined in on his tin whistle, but the tune he introduced was 'Banish Misfortune'. Although he would not speak against Maeve, he felt that she had not handled things very well. After all, the black fairies did have reason to object. Maeve and he would not have been
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