His doorbell rang. The birdcall sang twice before he had made it to the peephole.
Two elvish guards were pressed up against the door, gripping another with a stranglehold. They had caught Nervina.
Puck let the three in, asking Gordon to take Charley up into the nursery first before they would talk. He motioned the security elves to the cake cabinet and coffee bar.
Nervina coughed, his throat was red. Puck noted his weight had changed dramatically - he now wore a middle age girth and a double chin as an accessory. His chi was depleted, his eyes were bloodshot. Puck guessed that Forsythe had sucked the very life out of him.
"What is it you want?" he asked disparagingly.
"I want nothing from you Puck - I came only to bring you something I thought you should have."
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
"She can't go back - she can never go back,” Puck said solemnly to Goober who was feeding Charley her morning porridge, on which he sailed little rice paper boats, and would sink with sultana missiles.
"But it's her home there" Goober persisted.
"No more than it is here" replied Puck firmly. "She can be raised as I was, and no one ever needs to know."
Goober conceded. Charley was growing more and more faery-like by the day living in the etheric woods.
"Besides, if she develops, she will be able to see Marley when she returns to us. Better to have a mother in spirit than none at all."
They had still not seen or heard from Marley. Puck had searched, but could not locate her - it was as though the link between them had been entirely broken.
He had much to occupy himself with however, and as ever, poured himself into the first matter at hand. Life as a full-time father was more demanding than what he was used to - but it was growing on him.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Puck just sat there, not moving. He could not move, and no words came.
He told himself that she must not have been suffering any pain, or fear, for he would have felt it if she had.
But how could this have happened? They had been with each other just moments before. It did not seem possible. This world was becoming a place of shadows for him yet again.
"Sir", the officer persisted, "do you recognize the young woman in these photographs?"
He nodded yes, unable to respond any further.
"We will give you a moment - would you like a cup of tea or coffee?"
He did not reply.
Puck suddenly became diminutive in size, losing twelve inches from his height. His magnetism waned and the officers became disenchanted – now far more attentive to their duties.
"I am, I was, Marley's partner" he knew as he was saying this that it would be hard to prove. No one had ever seen him enter and exit her flat and there were no belongings of his at her place. Added to all this, he had no DNA to prove Charlene's parentage. There was nothing, absolutely nothing to connect him to Marley at all. When the dialogue continued, both women had now become much sterner.
"And how long had you and Ms Marian Silver been seeing each other for?"
"On and off for years" he replied blandly. He could see where this was going.
"Am I a suspect?" he asked bluntly.
"No, and I apologize if we have implied that in any way at all. The entire crime was captured on CCTV. It was almost as though the murderer had wanted his activity filmed - he actually faced the camera deliberately several times smiling at it."
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"We believe that Ms Silver was running a bath when Mark Forsythe entered her apartment. We cannot ascertain if he broke his way in, or if she had opened the door willingly. They were business acquaintances, and so in all probability she just let him in."
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Puck was invited into interview room 2. There was no recording there they said, it was just a quiet space for them to talk in. Puck saw cameras and could only assume they had audio too.
The officers - one young and one older - were both women. They seemed to enjoy looking at him, he noticed, and would pause in-between sentences with deliberate, flirtatious glances. His charisma was magnetically potent - this always happened when he was intent on something especially, and when his energy levels were high.
"Name and address please Sir,” purred the younger one, fidgeting playfully with her pen.
"We ask this of all of our visitors, even though there is no legal requirement at this time ... it's just a formality."
Puck obliged - he wanted information as badly as they did - if there was any to be had.
"R. G. Hode, Apartment A 177 Blaxland Terrace, South London."
The older policewoman shot a glance at him and excused herself momentarily from the room ... she then returned with a grey folder in her hand.
When opening it onto the table in front of him a pile of photographs tumbled out. They were body shots of a woman lying in peculiar angles; twisted, slumped, unnaturally, like a rag doll, in peach satin pyjamas.
The policewoman gingerly picked up a picture from the file that showed the face of the deceased. She asked softly, "Do you recognize this woman Sir?"
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Puck felt so much more 'together' when he was wearing his war-suit undergarment. This shimmering body-hugging gunmetal barely covered his nudity and sat upon him like a silvery second skin. The Fey use them for protection, concealment and containment.
For it is that the immortals' sense of consciousness is so expansive that it reaches far past their own body's perimeters.
If you were to ask a man where he is, he would point to himself. If you ask him where he thinks from, he would point to his head. If you ask him where he loves from, he would point to his heart.
If you asked the same from an immortal they would tell you that their being is everywhere, and that their thinking travels to the person or place or thing that they are thinking of at that time.
Their awareness is far-reaching, comprehensive and sensitive to that which they engage with. And as for their love - it resides with that which they love. They feel their love in the beings of others.
And so, when the Fey need to be more alike to mortals and focused upon themselves, they slip into their war-suits.
Puck also resumed his real height of six foot eleven inches. He now stood out from the crowds, dwarfing practically everyone on the street around him. They kept their distance and it psyched him to walk tall. Needless to say, his war-suit was a one-size-fits-all.
His street clothes bore a strong resemblance to Neo - black with a tailored long coat, dark glasses, and well-polished boots.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
"Did you leave someone to watch the apartment in case Marley returns back there tomorrow? She has no where else to go right now." Goober asked, just as Puck was about to leave.
"Oh, the rabbit will be fine" he said, "he knows how to get hold of us if she does."
"No, that can't be right, he's back here with us - Charley has him in her room upstairs."
"She must have wished him back. That's alright, I'll stop by and leave a note."
"Message me with any updates."
"I'll do the same" he was tense now - and as he walked out into the half-light of the forest he was feeling very definitely that he could kill someone right now.
The ages weighed on Puck's heart and all of the harm this Demon had done was crushing him. He wanted Forsythe to be gone for good, expelled from the world - to another cosmos preferably.
He looked back at his woods and saw the ethers flicking around the base of the trees like misty flames. The flowers were expiring rich fragrant vapors from their labella and their perfumes of twilight were hazing all over the ferny growth. There was a certain peace one could find with immortality, he mused.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
"Your uncle Gordon will take care of you until I come back" Puck softly said to Charley, who was drinking her juice contentedly.
They had returned to the treehouse immediately after their escape. The air there seemed to agree with the infant's temperament, and she had settled there quite happily.
The Troll Security Services were replaced with a blue ribbon, top Elvin Guard, who were more costly to hire, but well worth the peace of mind that came with them. Unlike the Trolls they were faithful to their employers and would not be paid off.
Puck was angry, yet cool minded. His ringlets had grown wildly down his shoulders; his eyes had turned indigo with sadness.
From his storeroom he retrieved a fighting suit that the Fey often wore under their street clothes when danger is felt to be imminent. It was woven from a fine spider thread, yet its outer was stronger than steel. It was the very kind that comic books based their costumes for superheroes upon, but much better looking compared to a Lycra counterfeit.
Three hours had passed, yet he still had no feeling as to where Marley might be or how she was. Losing this connection with her was making him agitated. He mentally ran through his plans.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
