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Fairy Gothmother

by A. Fraser
Part 3

© Copyright 2002 A. Fraser, et al. All rights reserved.

There was also a depressing lack of a handy Time-Life "build your own light 
proof shelter using only a pirate sword, long knife, palm fronds and rocks" do-
it-yourself book. There were coconuts and some berries on the bushes and fish in 
the lagoon. This was the downside of not being human. He could eat the berries 
and the coconuts, but they wouldn't provide him necessary nutrition he only got 
from mammal hemoglobin.

Why, oh, why had he spent his formative years in sloth and indolence, drinking, 
gambling and whoring, instead of volunteering for Habitat for Humanity or at 
least studying architecture?

His fifth walk around the island, he started singing to himself and talking to 
the spider as he passed it. The eighth walk, the spider went and hid rather than 
listen to him again. The birds were nearly killing themselves laughing in the 
palm trees.

By his twelfth time around the island, Alex realized that Noni had worked some 
fairy enchantment on his predicament. It should have definitely been morning by 
now, no matter what time of night he'd been marooned; yet the stars still 
twinkled above in a black velvet sky. So the need for shelter was eliminated.

But he was bored out of his mind, having nicotine withdrawal fits, and worried 
about the fact that the birds were all gathering in one tree, staring down at 
him and whispering to each other under their wings. One of them squawked at him. 
He threw a stone at it and missed by a country mile.

It splashed into the lagoon, starting a ring of ripples that undulated across 
the dark water, lapping against the hull of the pirate ship that was gaining 
rapidly on the island.

"NONI!"

"What?"

Alex clutched at the side of his typing table, toppling the overloaded ashtray 
and causing a minor avalanche to the floor. He didn't care.

"That wasn't funny," he snarled, grabbing for his cigarette case. He extracted 
and lit one of his specially made panatelas and took a deep drag on it, feeling 
his whole body tremble.

"You should be a bit more specific next time," she sniffed, leaning back on the 
couch.

"Next time? Why would I be stupid enough to make another wish?"

"Because three is traditional?" she asked.

"You're a fairy godmother, not a genie."

"Because how often do you get wishes granted?"

"But everything I wish for turns out wrong," Alex said. "I'm obviously as bad at 
wishing as I am at everything else."

"You're not bad at *everything*, moron," Noni replied. 


"Oh, yeah? I'd like to know something I'm good at."

"Granted!"

Alex groaned as the scenery changed. His comfortable study faded out and he was 
in what looked like a hotel convention room. At least he was no longer in a 
ragged, bloodied pirate costume. He wore a neatly tailored suit, shirt and tie 
and good shoes. People were gathered around, shoving things towards him. With a 
sinking feeling, he recognized copies of *Stormwing*. 

"Mr. Daniels." It was like a tribal chant. "Mr. Daniels, would you sign this, 
please? It's for my son, my daughter, my aunt, my poodle. Mr. Daniels, where do 
you get your ideas? Are the characters based on anyone you know? Mr. Daniels, 
are there plans for a sequel? Why did you make your hero's best friend gay? Are 
you gay? Do you believe in vampires?"

Alex stopped backing away from the admirers and stared at the person who had 
asked this last question. She was a short, plump middle-aged woman with short 
fair hair, wearing a Forever Knight t-shirt.

"Actually," he said, just to her, "yes, I do. Excuse me, I need to call my 
agent."

He turned and ran. When he'd covered enough distance, he called out for Noni to 
rescue him.

"Can't handle fame, huh?" the fairy godmother blew clove cigarette smoke at him. 
"Nothing makes you happy."

Alex sank into the nearest chair. "I was just asked if I believe in vampires," 
he said. "Be glad they didn't ask if I believe in fairies."

"I'm doing my best," Noni replied. "You're the toughest case I've ever had."

"Do you not enjoy the challenge?" Alex asked, grinning at her as he lit 
another slim black panatela.

"No."

Their eyes met, glaring, then they both looked away at the same time.

"So now what?" Noni asked.  "Cowboy?  Cavalier?  Cossack?"

"Are you stuck on the letter 'c'?"

"What do you believe you are good at, Alex?" Noni asked.

He shrugged.  "Good at being a defunct type," he said.  "The international 
playboy gambler seems to be a specter of the past."

"Playboy?" she snorted.  "Oh, yes, I've seen your way of handling women.  As  
smooth as gravel, you are."

"Not all women are as irritating as you."

"Let's see you in action, hotshot."

He was wearing a burnoose and a turban.  He was entering a tent in which a 
scantily clad, slightly plump woman with too much eye make-up was lying in an 
abandoned posture on a long fainting couch. Desert winds howled outside the 
tent, except that they weren't howling because although the tent shook in the 
wind, there was no sound.  There was also no colour.  Everything-the tent, the 
couch, the scanty outfit, the woman, the burnoose-was glorious black and white.  
The woman was probably beautiful in colour, she had long fair hair and nice 
curves.

"What the hell?" Alex asked.  His lips moved, and that was what he meant to say, 
but no sound came out.

Words appeared on a card projected onto the tent wall.  "Have no fear, my desert 
blossom, I am here to rescue you!"

The woman read the words, and looked at Alex.  "Who the hell are you?" her lips 
formed.

The tent wall accordingly projected, "Ah, my hero!  But beware the evil sheik 
Jafar al-Wampyr, for he will kill you if he finds you here."

Alex stared at the shaky projection of words, then looked down at the woman. She 
shrugged.  "Jafar al-Wampyr?" he repeated incredulously.  "Are you kidding?"  He 
moved his lips carefully, so that she might be able to read the actual words he 
was forming.

The tent, on the other hand, cheerfully interpreted his response as "Hah hah!  I 
laugh at that pathetic villain! He shall not defeat me and my stalwart brothers 
of the desert!"

"What brothers of the desert?" said the woman's lips.

"Oh, you are so brave, my hero!  Kiss me!"  The tent wall interpreted.

"Okay," Alex grinned and kissed her.  Even in black and white, she was pretty 
and he was on trial to see how well he did romancing women.

"What are you doing?" she mouthed at him when her lips were free.  "Who are 
you?"

"Oh, there is no time, my brave, passionate fool!"  This was from the tent, 
which Alex was beginning to dislike quite intensely.  "Jafar al-Wampyr will be 
here any moment!"

"I'm Alex Goldanias," he told the woman.  "Who are you?"

"I fear nothing!  Bring him on!"  This, predictably, from the tent.

"Deb Haydon.  Nice to meet you, I think.  What are you doing here?"

They were getting quite adept at lip-reading and were actively ignoring the 
tent, which interpreted Deb's response as "I hear his evil steps outside the 
tent.  Quickly, my love, draw your scimitar!"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Never fear, my desert rose!  I will protect you!"

"I'm not even sure what I'm doing here."

"Oh, he is coming in!  Help, help!"

Indeed, the tent flaps parted and a tall, menacing figure in a hooded black 
burnoose entered.

"Hah hah, my pretty!" chortled the tent wall.  "You think your true love can 
protect you from the evil sheik Jafar al-Wampyr? I shall challenge him to a duel 
to the death on the sands!"

All three of them stared at the wall.  The black-clad intruder had not, as far 
as could be determined, actually said anything.  He cast his hood back and drew 
closer to the projected card.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, turning around.

Alex's jaw dropped.  Jafar al-Wampyr had shoulder-length platinum blond hair and 
eyes that looked like they might be blue if there was colour in this peculiar 
setting.  He had the sort of beautiful features usually only seen on figures on 
Christmas cards with captions like "Hark" or "Fear not", but he also had fangs 
and undoubtedly there was a heavy-metal rock band brand name somewhere on that 
burnoose.

"Francis?" Alex asked.

The tent wall projection wavered a bit, but gamely shot up the words "Your evil 
ploys are at an end, Jafar al-Wampyr!  I, the Son of the Desert, challenge you 
for this fair maiden."

"Alex?" The younger vampire shook his head.  "What is going on here?  One 
minute, I'm walking out to my Harley, next minute, I'm wearing a damn dress and 
everything's black and white."  He noticed Deb Haydon.  "Hey," he nodded.  
"Francis Calvert."

"Deb Haydon," she said faintly.

They all turned to the tent wall.  It flickered and began to project, "Your puny 
efforts strike no fear into me, Son of the Desert!  I am Jafar al-Wampyr, 
possessor of the secret of-" and then it gave up and smoke rose from the tent 
wall.

"Did you, by any chance, happen to wish for a fairy godmother?" Alex asked the 
confused Deb Haydon.

"How'd you know?" she asked.

"Fairy godmother?" Francis stared at them both.

"Long story," said Deb.

"Be grateful you didn't ask to be a pirate," Alex told her. "You really don't 
want to go there."

"I just wanted a little romance in my life," Deb sighed.  "Something out of the 
ordinary."

"I wanted a change from routine, too," Alex nodded.  "It does prove what they 
say about wishing is true."

"Why is everything monochrome?" Francis asked.  "Where are we, anyway?"

"Somewhere that our respective fairy godmothers cooked up," Alex grunted.  
"Say," he said to Deb, "your fairy godmother wouldn't happen to be a smart-
mouthed punk girl named Noni, would she?"

Deb sat up on the couch.  "Yes," she replied.  "Looks like she's got a hell of a 
sense of humour."

"Where do you live?" Alex asked, sitting beside her.

"Boston.  How about you?"

"A little place in Maine.  Do you like vampire novels?"

Francis snorted.  "This is all very cute and romantic, but I've got a hot date 
waiting for me at the China Clipper," he said.  "So can we get the fuck out of 
here?"

"I've never read any," Deb admitted.  "But I've seen a couple of vampire movies.  
Why?"

Francis threw up his hands and stormed out of the tent.  He was back in under a 
minute.  "There's nothing out there," he said.  "Literally nothing.  Seriously 
creepy.  Can we go home?"

Having discovered a serious lack of writing materials to get Deb's phone number, 
Alex sighed and agreed.  "Noni!" he called out.

And he was back in Valley Mansion, dressed in his more usual clothing, without 
either Deb or Francis.

"What was that all about?" he demanded.

"Testing your playboy instincts," she said.

"As Rudolph Valentino?" he replied.  "Wasn't he gay?"

"It was supposed to be a romantic setting!  Most guys would kill to play the 
Sheik."

"I liked Deb Haydon.  Can you get me her phone number?"

"You haven't learned a damn thing from all of this, have you?" she demanded, 
getting up and glaring at him.

"Yes.  I've learned that having a fairy godmother can be hazardous to your 
health."

"Fine!  I'll just go away and let you go back to your miserable existence, 
then."

"Fine!" Alex yelled back at her.

And she was gone, leaving only a hint of clove and PVC in her wake.

Alex searched the entire house, even the locked tower rooms.  He apologized for 
disturbing Mrs. Jenkins.  There was no sign of Noni.  He picked up the phone and 
called the China Clipper, asking the receptionist if she'd seen Francis Calvert 
come in that night.  She had, and asked if there was a message, but Alex decided 
against it.

Had it happened at all?  He went back to his study, a bit perplexed.  Maybe it 
had been a dream, although vampires weren't noted for having them.  And there 
were those unfiltered clove cigarette butts in his ashtray.  He looked at the 
pile of papers beside his typewriter.  At least he had a few new ideas for 
*Killing Cousins*.

The telephone rang, and he strode towards it.  "Got it, Mrs. Jenkins," he called 
out and picked it up.

"Is this Alex Goldanias?" asked a hesitant female voice.

"Speaking," he replied.  "Who's calling, please?"

"This is Deb Haydon," she stated.  "We met in a tent?"

A slow smile began to form at the edges of Alex's handsome mouth.

"Thanks, Noni," he whispered.

There was a definite twinkle in the air.

~ The End ~

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