The start of this story is here.
Chris had been reading about the Fae too. “Sith? Like in Star Wars?” He said.
“It’s pronounced Shee. Like Banshee.” I said.
“So are Banshee’s Fae? I thought they were a kind of ghost.” Said Chris.
“Banshee just means Faerie woman.” I said. “I don’t know how they got a reputation for screaming from rooftops when someone’s going to die.”
“Nothing about the Hob mafia though.” Said Chris.
“Well all our material dates to before the rebellions of the lesser Fae. Perhaps it’s something that the Hob started after they broke away?” I said.
Mycroft was propped up on the table and experimenting with a face. I think he hoped that it would make him seem more human and less awkward to talk to but the positioning of the yPhone was so low that just made it feel like talking to an exceptionally bright toddler. Currently he was trying generic animated features and a voice like Stephen Hawking. It was fairly disconcerting.
“I have an idea what to try next.” Said Mycroft
“Yes?” I said.
“Take me to the scene of the crime.” He said.
I couldn’t help glancing up at the St Nick’s Tower. It looked even grimmer than it had the last time I sat there. The broken window still had not been fixed.
“Why?” I said.
“Maybe I’ll spot something you missed. I should be more resistant to glamour.” Said Mycroft.
“I don’t see why. Glamour interacts directly with intelligence. You have a mind for it to work on.” I said.
“Yes but my mind is back in London.” He said.
“Could work.” Said Chris, though he sounded unsure.
“Hey check this out.” Said Mycroft and switched the face on the yPhone screen to Mark Gatis. From the look of his hair it was taken from the recent Sherlock TV series.
“What do you think?” He said. He had nicked the voice too.
“Oh please not him.” I said.
“You don’t like Mark Gatis?” Said Chris.
“It’s the opposite problem. I have a man crush on him.” I said.
Chris and Mycroft exchanged a look. “How can you have a man crush on anyone?” Said Chris.
“You know how you feel about Professor Brian Cox?” I said.
Chris looked shifty for a moment. “Yes?” he said.
“Well that’s exactly how I feel about Mark Gatis.” I said.
“How do you feel about professor Brian Cox?” Said Mycroft.
“Well lets just say my kids try to stop me watching his programs cause they’re worried I’ll dump their dad for him.” I said.
“Ok is this better?” Said Mycroft. He’d switched to Stephen Fry.
“Ooh good choice.” Said Chris.
“Much better but you’re going to have to build your own face you know.” I said.
“I know,” said Mycroft, “but now is not the time. Now is the time for going back to the murder scene.”
“But why.” I said.
“Because it’s never been searched properly. The police and the SOCOs didn’t do it because of the glamour. You searched the room she fell from but not the outside because when you got down you were too tired from the climb and probably the second layer of the glamour was affecting you.” Said Mycroft.
“Do you think there will still be anything there?” Said Chris, mostly to me, I think.
“Don’t see why not. The Glamour’s been keeping most people away and the weather has be pretty good.”
“Onward.” Said Mycroft.
“Hold your horses. First I’m getting a coffee to take with me. I am insufficiently caffinated for this shit.” I said.
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