Page 8 of Midnight Auto Parts
“Why couldn’t they glamour themselves and hide among the populace like everyone else?”
Lord knows the fae had done it since the beginning of time. For survival. For amusement. For snacks.
“Glamour is a defense mechanism developed by the inhabitants of worlds that intersect with Earth to camouflage themselves among the most abundant species. To cultivate it in the modern age, with every slip of the mask broadcast worldwide on social media, would result in generations of casualties.”
The theory glamour evolved primarily to mimic humans, and human-adjacent species, had never crossed my mind. I saw it as a magic trick for anyone wanting to appear as anything. But it made perfect sense to blend with the dominant lifeform. Huh. We really do learn something new every day.
“Everyone and their momma,” Carter added, “would livestream alien autopsies from their phones.”
“That’s a bit harsh.” I reflected on world history for a beat. “Okay, so, you’re probably right.”
Nonhumans, without basic rights to protect them, would be classified as animals or worse. But that was after the initial wave where lawlessness would reign and mass graves would be filled with the victims of mortal curiosity.
“I’ve seen humans dissect enough fae to know I’m right.”
A hush fell over us then, a moment of silence for the lost, but she was quick to break it.
“Your loaner vanished.” She produced a bag of cheddar puffs from wherever she kept her endless stash of emotional support snacks. “The monster truck driver.”
Josie staying with Carter was her choice, but I would have to talk to her about safe topics. I doubted that Josie would volunteer any information on Tameka, given how little Josie had to do with running theotherfamily business, but Carter might have questioned her after she mentioned we had a runner. Still. I knew from experience Carter was an expert at getting people talking, and our survival hinged on aless is morepolicy when it came to how much was known about what happened below the shop.
“Yes.” I kept my tone businesslike. “Tameka Ezell.”
One-handed, she typed away in a note app while crunching her snack. “What was she in life?”
“A gremlin.”
Gremlins were first documented during World War II when their mischievous streaks resulted in aircraft, and other mechanical, malfunctions. No one was sure where they came from, but they arrived in droves. They tended to be more populous in war-torn regions, but America had its enclaves. Though American gremlins usually applied their talents in the automotive industry or in R&D for big tech companies.
And, apparently, they also built and drove competition monster trucks.
“The other victims are human.” She sucked her teeth. “One married into the Hardeeville warg pack, here in South Carolina. The other is a feeder for a vampire in Hilton Head.”
Hardeeville rang a distant bell, but I wished it unrung after recalling why it struck me as familiar.
Harrow had inherited land from his uncle in Hardeeville, but that pointless reminder certainly wasn’t my guilt talking because I had been thinking how I hadn’t visited Harrow or even sent him a fruit basket.
Before my thoughts galloped too far down that path, I pulled on the reins. Hard. I didn’t have time for regrets or whatever had the gall to make my chest pinch whenever I thought of him.
Right now, Tameka was my more immediate concern.
For the mother and daughter duo to have disappeared on the same stretch of road, under the same conditions, there must be some commonality between them and the other victims.
Prior to offering Tameka lease terms, I had consulted with her in person, well, inspirit. No red flags there. No flash of crimson when I performed my due diligence on her situation to verify the facts she gave me either. I had even spoken with Keshawn over the phone to get a better sense of the family dynamic, but I had felt good about Tameka. I never would have pegged her for a runner.
Kierce angled his head toward Carter. “When were the others taken?”
“The wifey was talking to her husband when the call cut out, so we have that one pinned down. It was at 3:45 yesterday.” Carter checked her notes. “The feeder was reported missing later that night. Near nine. Her master is paranoid about cellphones, so she keeps the tracking features turned off on hers.”
“It’s 2:12 p.m.,” Kierce read off his phone. “There’s no synchronicity there either.”
“When did you go modern?” Carter snatched the cell out of his hand to examine it. “And why is it in one of those bumper cases like you buy for toddler tablets?”
“Badb,” he and I answered together.
“She has a habit of stealing it, getting mad it doesn’t recognize her face, then throwing it.” I shrugged. “A tactical case felt like a smart investment, even if the phone was free when I signed up for a fourth line.”
“Have you ever considered telling herno?” Carter passed it back. “Or punishing her when she’s bad?”