Kicking It(85)

“Yeah, I get it. Let’s not attract any more attention than I already have, right? I don’t even know where to start,” I said. “It’s not like Lucifer sent a picture of the shoes with that letter.”

“I can help with that,” Beezle said. He flew out of the kitchen, into the dining room and to the small table that I had set up as a computer desk next to the front door. He pushed the keyboard forward to make room for his belly on the table and then started tapping at the keys.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Best place for rumors is the Internet,” he said.

“You think the Internet is a reliable research tool to find the location of a mythical artifact?”

“It’s not a myth if Lucifer wants you to find it. He must know for sure that the Red Shoes are real. And you would be surprised at how many immortal creatures have Twitter accounts or hang out on message boards. Just because you’re too analog to enter the twenty-first century with the rest of us doesn’t mean that ancient beings disdain social media.”

“Just make with the Google,” I said. “You can mock my tech skills later.”

“What tech skills?” Beezle muttered, his claws flying rapidly from the keys to the mouse.

He had several browser windows open and clicked back and forth between them so quickly that I couldn’t begin to follow what was going on. I thought it wisest to back away slowly and wait for him to triumphantly present me with the required information.

Fifteen minutes later I stood in the kitchen, peering hopefully inside the refrigerator. No food had magically appeared there since the last time I looked.

“I got it!” Beezle said, flying into the kitchen with a slip of paper clutched in his little fist. “They’re right here in Chicago.”

“The shoes?” I asked. “Why would they be here?”

Beezle shrugged. “Because the creature that currently possesses them is living here temporarily.”

“And who—or what—would that creature be?”

“That would be Sammy Blue,” Beezle said. He seemed to enjoy teasing out the suspense.

“Are you going to tell me what’s so special about Sammy Blue?”

“Sammy Blue just happens to be an ambassador from Amarantha’s court. Her favorite ambassador, in point of fact. The one that she trusts with her most sensitive matters.”

Amarantha. Of course it would have something to do with Amarantha.

“So what’s this guy here for, anyway?” I asked. “Lucifer considers Chicago to be his territory and he’s not been very happy with Amarantha since she tried to have me killed. Isn’t she defying some ancient law about not crossing into another court’s borders without permission?”

“Technically, she’s not here. Her ambassador is. So they’ve got some wiggle room there, ancient-law-wise. Sammy is here to negotiate with some local witches. Amarantha apparently wants to retain their services,” Beezle said.

“Gee, you think she’s looking to get some spellthrower to put a curse on me?” I asked.

“Probably. That’s the kind of effect you have on people.”

“When I go to see Sammy Blue about these shoes, what are the chances that he’ll go into a berserker rage once he sees me?”

“Hmm,” Beezle said, tapping his finger on his chin. “You humiliated and disrespected his beloved monarch in a very public way. Then, when Amarantha tried to have you killed by proxy in the Maze you didn’t even have the decency to die there the way everyone else in history has done.”

“Yes, I’m annoying that way. I refuse to roll over and let some bully in a designer gown step on me.”

“It is annoying to royalty. They’re used to getting their way. Especially the fae.”

“In summary, diplomacy is unlikely to be an effective tactic for extracting the shoes from Sammy Blue.”

Beezle gave me an exaggerated look of surprise. “Was diplomacy even an option? I just thought you would do what you usually do—insult everyone present, break the furniture, set the building on fire.”

I had no snappy comeback for that one. Beezle had listed the extent of my skill set.

“What kind of a name is Sammy Blue, anyway? He sounds like a small-time drug dealer with a toothpick hanging from his mouth.”

“Sammy is short for some flowery fae name that starts with ‘Sam.’ I can’t remember it exactly. And Blue is a nickname that Amarantha gave him. See, Sammy likes to strangle people who make him unhappy.”

“He likes to see them turn blue,” I said.

“Yes,” Beezle said. “He likes to see them turn blue verrrry slowly. As in hours and days kind of slowly.”