Interlude

"Destination. Two hundred meters. On your left."

Even with her phone's GPS giving her directions, Joan nearly missed the turn. It was a damned odd place to put a fancy restaurant, out in the middle of nowhere off a country road. The place was practically invisible from the street at this time of night, hidden behind a thick stand of trees.

She grumbled about the lack of street lights, and the lack of signage. As she followed the winding driveway through the woods it crossed her mind that maybe the place was closed and this whole trip had been a waste of time. After all, what sort of fine-dining establishment was open at two in the morning?

For the hundredth time since she left the house, she thought about turning around and just going home. And for the hundredth time, she decided to keep going. She was desperate, she needed that money or she was well and truly screwed.

She swore to herself though, after tonight she was done and she was out. She'd make the exchange tonight and get the money, then pay off her debt tomorrow and she'd be free.

The driveway took one more turn, then the woods opened up and she saw the place. There were lights outside, and the small parking-lot was fairly well lit. It was a bit of a shock, none of this was visible at all from the road.

Joan pulled her minivan into a spot and took a few deep calming breaths before she cut the ignition. She grabbed her phone and her purse, then left the vehicle.

There was a slight chill in the air, but at least it was dry and the sky was clear. In truth it wasn't that bad for the end of September. Still, she pulled her hoodie a little closer around herself as she approached the front entrance.

Once inside she felt warmer, and the place was certainly posh. The lobby area was decorated with wood panelling and deep red and gold wallpaper. There was a small podium but no maitre d' around.

Joan hesitated, she knew better than to just walk in and start wandering around. She wasn't even sure what she'd say though, she didn't have a name to ask for. The text just gave her the address and said to be here at two o'clock Saturday morning.

She was still fretting what to do when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the text message and felt a slight chill.

"Through the door on your right, turn left, then right. Last booth on the left, by the windows."

Joan glanced around, but she couldn't see any security cameras. There was no indication how the contact knew she was here. She figured, the cameras must be hidden. Or they were outside and she didn't notice as she came in.

After another deep breath she followed the directions. The doorway led to a little hall that went both left and right. She went left, then through another doorway on the right. That led her into the restaurant's dining room. It was dimly lit, quiet, elegant. There were five large booths on either side of the room, and six tables spread out in the middle of the room. Three of the tables had diners seated. The men wore tuxedos or dark suits. Some of the women did too, but others were in gowns or designer dresses.

Joan never felt more out-of-place in her life, and she avoided their stares as she tried to sneak past in her yoga-pants, hoodie, and running-shoes. She hurried to the far end of the room by the windows, and stopped at the last booth on the left.

The booths here were large and deep, and were separated with thick wood panelling that reached up to the ceiling. It made them very private, almost like small private rooms on their own. The table and benches were big enough to seat three to a side.

Her contact was here, sitting alone on the right. It was hard to judge his height as he was seated, but he looked tall and slim. Joan figured he was probably stood about six feet tall. What caught her eye though was how handsome he was. He looked like he should be an actor, or a model maybe.

His hair was jet-black and a little on the long side, and slightly messy. It gave him a bit of a rugged care-free look though. His face was clean-shaved and his skin sort of dusky, and he had dark eyes. He looked to be around thirty, but she knew enough about his kind to know he was probably closer to three or four hundred. He was wearing a long black overcoat even in here, seated at the table.

He looked up at Joan and she felt her heart skip a beat. He was hot, but she was scared. It left a strange feeling in her gut.

She gulped and tried to keep her voice steady as she asked, "I understand you're looking for information?"

His eyes slowly moved up and down over her. After a few moments he gestured at the other side of the booth, "Have a seat."

His voice was kind of deep, but smooth and soft. Joan felt her heart skip another beat as she nodded and slipped into the booth across from him.

He continued watching quietly as she got herself settled. She was trying not to let on how nervous she was, but she was sure he could tell.

After another few seconds he asked, "What do you have, and what's your price?"

Joan gulped then licked her lips. Her mouth was dry. This was it though, she couldn't back out now. She leaned forward slightly and half-whispered, "I believe there's a changeling recently emerged. I know where to find them. Ten thousand, and you'll have their name, address, and picture."

He watched her for another few seconds, then asked "You ready to trade right now?"

She glanced around again but these booths really were private. She couldn't see anyone else in the restaurant from here. Finally she nodded to him, "Yes."

For a moment she thought he was reaching for a weapon. His hand slipped under his overcoat, but then when he pulled it back out he was holding a tightly-wrapped stack of cash. He set the bundle down on the table between them, though his hand stayed resting protectively on the money.

Enough of it was exposed that she could see it clearly. It was a stack of hundred-dollar bills, brand-new and fresh from the bank. They still had the band around them with the count and value. One hundred bills, ten thousand dollars.

Joan felt her eyes widen and her heart-rate jumped slightly. That was it. That's all she needed, and she'd be done. This time tomorrow she'd be a free woman, and she'd never have to see or deal with the fae ever again.

Her hands shook slightly as she unzipped her purse and pulled out the sheet of paper. She'd printed it off last month, and kept it to herself as insurance. It was a student transfer form, from a local college's administration computer. The student in question was one Tegan Vale, aged twenty-two. It had her address, some posh condo-tower on the lakeshore downtown, and it had her picture in the corner. She was a cute girl, with strange purple hair.

Joan hated to do it, but she was desperate. She had the page folded over, so the information was hidden inside. She set it down on the table, with her hand on it the same way he was holding the cash.

Her eyes lingered on the money as she thought to herself, just take it and go. Take it and go. Don't wait, don't delay. She knew how dangerous these situations could get.

The man was watching her again. He seemed to hesitate, and Joan started to worry it was a set-up. She could just run for it. Take her piece of paper and leave. Or fuck it, leave the information and run.

She was getting more nervous until he finally slid the money towards her and reached for the piece of paper.

Joan let out a quiet sigh of relief as she took her hand off the page and grabbed the stack of money.

"You best count that," he commented.

She nodded. Of course. That's what you do when you're making a deal, you have to make sure the money's right. She needed ten grand, it wouldn't do if he short-changed her.

She focused on the stack of bills in her hands and started counting. One, two, three, four.

The man was reading over the sheet she just gave him. Even focused on her counting, she could tell he was pleased. The corners of his lips twitched slightly, like he was fighting a smile.

For now Joan kept counting. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

"If you don't mind my asking, how'd you come by this?" She couldn't get over his voice. He could definitely be a movie star. Or heck even a voice-actor.

Joan frowned, "Oh uh, I did a job. For a half-fae woman, Kelsey Connolly? She hired me last month to hack the college computer, to set up the changeling's transfer. Kelsey's taken charge of the girl."

She went back to her counting. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

The man was frowning now too, and commented "I'd steer clear of that lot if I were you."

"Why?" Joan asked, looking up from her counting. "Do you know her?"

He shook his head slightly, "Never met Kelsey. I know her father though. There's a fae you want to avoid. He's not a good man."

Joan just nodded. This time tomorrow she'd be free, she wouldn't have to deal with Kelsey or any other fae ever again. She went back to her counting. Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six.

The man tucked the sheet of paper under his coat as he said, "Thank you Joan. You've been most helpful."

She just nodded, focusing on her money. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four.

She was distracted a moment later by a waitress who set the bill down on the table in front of her. Joan looked up in surprise and glanced around. The man was gone, though there was an empty plate and glass where he'd been sitting. And he'd stiffed her for the check. She frowned at the waitress, then looked back at the money she'd been counting.

Her stomach lurched and her hands shook. She was holding a pile of little paper rectangles, each one had the word 'money' written on it in pencil.

PurpleCatGirl