Tribute

Getting her oil changed wasn’t exactly Hazel’s idea of a fun chore for Friday afternoon, but the sixteen-year-old drooling over her made it nearly unbearable this time. Literally, drooling.

She shot him a short-tempered look as she put on her sunglasses, the Portland sun requiring it for once, though a deep gray line of clouds already clustered along the western horizon. “Can you just finish with the car already?”

He gulped. “Hey, when I’m done do you want to go to dinner or something?”

Hazel sighed and cast him a sweet smile. “You don’t want anything to do with the likes of me, kid.”

He just smiled at her and nodded, his brain obviously addled.

“So that’s a no. No dinner. Just finish my car. Thanks.”

Confused and deflated, he shook his shaggy hair into his face so she couldn’t see his profile as he worked. He called out to his pit crew, his tone wistful and sad.
Gods. Wouldn’t it be great to be normal?

Crushing men wasn’t Hazel’s idea of a good time. It was just that many of them had no control over themselves when she was around. The drooling was not attractive. But they didn’t know that. They didn’t even realize how silly they looked. It was part of her draw; men tended to be totally focused on her, unable to string together more than a sentence, much less keep her entertained for a date. They were compelled to look, to touch if she’d let them, hovering over her the entire time.

She’d heard she was lucky. Some Sidhe drew humans to madness, despair – even violence. They just wanted to love her.

Still, it was annoying.

A buzzing from her purse cast a wave of relief over her. Blessed distraction. She looked up and caught the boy staring again, and frowned at him as she reached into her purse.

Checking the number that had just flashed on her cell phone, Hazel sighed. The age-old question: to answer, or not to answer? Swallowing, she hit send.

“Hello?”

“Hazel. Glad I caught you. Got a little problem I could use your help with.”

“Thankfully, your problems don’t have anything to do with me anymore.”

“They do when they’re not mine specifically, but more, you know, ours.”

“Great,” Hazel said. If he meant what she thought he did, her hope of getting out of whatever this was had just faded fast.

“There’s a human over here who needs to get in touch with the Fomorii. Has to pay a tribute of some kind, but hasn’t been able to get through. Think you could take him?”

“Can I take him?” Like she didn’t have enough to do. “Drake, this is your job. You know I was never into this stuff.”

“You’re missing the point. He needs to go. I can’t take him, so I thought of you.”

“Why can’t you take him?” Drake was the obvious choice. After all, he worked for the Sidhe Authority, taking care of the Otherworld government’s business in the human world. Hazel had as little to do with Otherworld affairs as possible.

“Let’s call it a little interpersonal issue between me and the Fomorii contact. I’m waiting another decade at least before I meet up with that guy again, for everyone’s sake. I’m supposed to be smoothing relations, remember?”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. When we were together, I dealt with your interpersonal issues. Now that we’re not, I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“You’re Sidhe, so you’re in. Our problems are your problems, and this falls into that category. Just think, what would Aunt Brigit say?”

“Damn,” she growled. He had to bring her aunt into it. Of course she knew what Brigit would say. You get the benefits; a certain amount of dirty work comes with it. Help your people. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do again?”