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Big thanks to Mr. Donahue for the episode!
Tonight Lazarus Caine, lone Defender charged with holding back the night, is persuaded to assist a concerned parent.
The Skinner Co. Network
FPGE17 - HomeSick by John Donahue
Some days, gloomy, my hours are slumberless. Dear is the shadows I live with by nonetheless. Little white flowers are never waking in. Not where the bright coach of sorrow lands taking you. Angels have no fire of ever turning you. Or they'll be angry if I so don't join in you. Welcome to Flashpulp, guest episode 17. Tonight we present, Homesick, by John Donahue. This episode is brought to you by the FlashMob. Candy, money, power, love. Some of these things can be found only in the company of fellow mobsters. Find out which at skinner.fm/mom. Flashpulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age. Three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. Tonight, Lazarus Kane, lone defender charged with holding back the night, is persuaded to assist a concerned parent. Homesick, by John Donahue. [Music] The door chime rang as the man entered the shop. Welcome to Saint Sebastian's Collectibles and Audities. How can I help you? Lazarus said on reflex as he placed the box he was carrying on the counter and gave the man his full attention. The shorter man who entered the store had greying hair, a round face with a caterpillar mustache, and the start of a spare tire. He was carrying a small release. "Uh, I'm not sure if I'm in the right place," said the greying haired man, looking around. The store was filled with shelves and bookcases, all stocked with every manner of floatsum and jetsum, from normal tourist fare at the front to the more unusual towards the back. "I was looking for a Mr. Kane?" "You're speaking to him," Lazarus said flatly. Lazarus Kane, proprietor. "I, um, I was told you offer, um, services for unusual problems," Lazarus raised his brow. "Well, that depends on the problem, mister," he let the question hang in the air. "Oh, um, I'm sorry. Stevenson, Wallace Stevenson. You can call me Wally," he offered his hand. Lazarus took it, and they exchanged a firm shake. "It has to do with my daughter." "First," Lazarus said, holding up a finger to stop him. "How did you hear about me, mister Stevenson?" "My housekeeper, Consuela, she gave me your card," he said with a bit of a frown as he pulled it from his jacket pocket. "Ah, Miss Santiago. Yes, I helped her in the past," Lazarus said with a nod, his voice getting a little softer. "Let's go to my office then. This will need some privacy." He half-turned and shouted towards the back of the store, making Wally jump a little at the sudden rise in volume. "Maggie!" A teenage girl of about seventeen poked her head out from behind one of the bookshelves. Wally noticed she had several facial piercings, and most of her hair was blue. "Yank-a-las!" "Don't call me that. I'm going to the back for a bit." "But I was about to head downtown to check the PO box," she said with a bit of a whine. "You can waste time with your friends later. I need you to watch the store." She gave an exaggerated sigh. Then came around the back shelf towards the counter. She wore a vintage black flag t-shirt and cut jean shorts. Lazarus nodded to the man. "This way, please." Wally followed him towards the back of the store. The items on the shelves became the only word he could think of to fit was "more arcane" the further into the store they went. Lazarus opened the door to his office. It was a smaller room filled with a fair amount of clutter, a couple of filing cabinets, and an old desk with a bookcase behind it. Two things caught his attention as he looked around the room. The first was a large whaler's harpoon in the corner. It had what he swore was dried blood on it. The second was on the shelves behind him. In a glass case, it sat a huge ruby the size of a goose egg. It tapered at the ends and gave the appearance of a great eye. He could swear it was watching him with a baleful gaze. Lazarus followed the man's gaze as he sat down behind the desk. "The eye of Feroemegaze, the second most dangerous thing I own." "No, about your daughter." "Um, yes, it started about six months ago after my aunt Anna died," he said, pulling his eyes away from the gem. "My condolences." "Thank you. Elizabeth and my aunt were close, I would say. We didn't get to visit as much as I would have liked to. She lived in England, you see." Lazarus nodded for him to continue. But they talked fairly often, email, and on the phone. I mean, it's good to know family. Lizzy took it pretty hard when we got the news. About a month after the funeral, she changed, and things started getting... I guess the word is... weird. Weird, how? Lazarus gave him a questioning look. Elizabeth started acting different. Changed her looks and started hanging out with this new girl I'd never seen before. He had worry in his voice, but his gaze deferred back towards the eye. "Are you sure it's not just angst and grief, Mr. Stevenson?" "She has such dark hair. Eyes like a cloudy day. She makes such promises. If I were a younger man, I'd..." He was cut off as Lazarus slapped the top of his desk, woolly. The man seemed to have forgotten what he was talking about, then gave his head a shake. "Um, I uh..." "Brought some of my paperwork and photos for you to look over. Mostly some of my aunt's old affairs. I don't know if it will help or not." Wally said as he brought his volleys into his lap. "Almost pleading," he asked. "Can you take my case?" "Mr. Stevenson. I'm not a private eye. I don't take cases." Lazarus said, making air quotes with his fingers. "Oh," Wally said, a little crestfallen. "I guess you...but I'll see if there's anything I can do for you." "Oh, thank you. It is such a relief to hear that." I thought... "Well, thank you." He said, standing and placing the case on his seat. The nod Lazarus stood and motioned towards the exit. "I'll see you out. Then I'll get back with you in a couple of days." He walked the man back to the front of the store. Wally Stevenson thanked him again before leaving with a clang of the door chime. Maggie looked up from behind the counter. "Is this more of your voodoo shed, Uncle Laz?" she said as she popped a piece of gum into her mouth. "First off, watch your mouth, young lady." And...maybe. "It won't hurt to look into it for the man in any case," he said as he looked down at the book she was reading. "Monelia's Astronomica?" "He's got some interesting ideas." "Yeah, and they're all crap." "Then after a moment, you feed Steve?" "Not yet." "I'll get at them," he said with a nod. "Go ahead and drop the till." We're closing really today. She gave him a questioning look as he changed the door sign from open to closed and locked the door. "Voodoo shed?" "Maybe." Lazarus switched on the light next to the chair he was sitting in. He was wearing his armor with half-cape. Both of the girls turned and flinched as the light came on. It was around four in the morning, and they were in the Stevenson's living room. He couldn't be certain, but from the way it was decorated, it had an air of the Nuvo Riche. Wally sat next to his wife on the couch with a look of concern on his face. She was not pleased that some whack job and a cape her husband had hired had kept her up all night in the dark. "I didn't put it all together at first," said the oddly dressed man. "I mean, sure, there was the whole teenage misanthropes suddenly becoming popular. But it didn't gel, you know. Good kid, smart, did well in school, whose grades just plummet suddenly after a pretty radical makeover. And staying out till all hours of the night, that's just normal teenage angst, right?" He asked as he steepled his hands and leaned forward in the chair. It wasn't till I saw those photos your father kept. Then it came together. Imagine my surprise to see your new friend Sylvia in a picture from a hundred and forty years ago. He pulled out an old photograph and tossed it onto the coffee table. The picture was of two women, the first seemingly a stately mother, the second looking exactly like the young girl before him. Unchanged, but for her style of clothing. Elizabeth, a plump girl taking after her father a bit in appearance, first looked shocked, then furious. Sylvia, on the other hand. Her expression never changed from slightly amused. Wally had been right. The girl was beautiful with long black hair and pale skin. She was like a living china doll, but it was her eyes, fierce and proud that caught you. As she began walking over to the table, Elizabeth spoke. "What the hell is this shit, Dad? Some kind of intervention or something? Who is this freak?" "Lizzy, we just want to make sure you're all right." "God damn it, Dad! Don't call me that anymore! I said I was okay! Stay out of my life!" Lazarus ignored her, instead watching Sylvia as she picked up the photo and gazed at it with what seemed a mix of admiration and loathing. "Ah, Marianne. She was so clever, and how I hated her." Her voice, like a choir, dripped with a venom for the woman in the picture. She let it fall from her hand to the table. "So you're the defender, I take it." "I am, yes," Lazarus said, with an even tone. He didn't look directly into her eyes. She only had that amused look on her face. "Who is this freak, Sylvie?" Elizabeth said as she stopped berating her parents. Sylvia seemed to stiffen a little at the use of her nickname. "I only know of his order by reputation." "Monster hunters, you see, tasking themselves with holding back the creatures of the night." An almost extinct breed in this day and age. "What do you mean by "creatures of the night?" Wally said, joining the conversation, his voice seeming very small in the girl's presence. "Well, Mr. Stevenson, the lovely Sylvia here, is a fae," Lazarus said flatly, as he rose from the chair and took a step forward, until only perhaps a meter and a half separated them. At his questioning phase he added, "A fairy." And from the hour she keeps, I'd say she's a winter fae, an unseally. Sylvia clapped her hands very lightly. "Look at the big brain on the monkey," Elizabeth moved up to them and stomped a foot. "Enough of this crap, you deflator, or whatever you call yourself? Get out of my house!" Lazarus turned his gaze to her for the first time. "No." Her eyes got big and she took a step back, scowling at him the whole time. "Sylvia, attend!" The pendant around her neck flashed once. The fae's spine went straight and her eyes turned silver. The temperature in the room began to drop. Her hair lifted and began to blow in a wind only she felt. She held out her hands as if she was gathering great power to them, and the room shook. Lazarus calmly reached into a pouch on his belt and tossed something small at her with a shouted, "Catch!" She snagged it out of the air with ease, her left hand closing around the throne object, and then fell to her knees. She screamed, a high-pitched ear-splitting sound that shook the windows. "What did you do to her, you fucker?" Elizabeth wailed as she ran at him and began to throw punches. He blocked her swing with his right arm, then with his left pulled the pendant off her neck. He pushed the teenager to the ground and stepped over to the ferry. "Please, give me that," he said as he kneeled down. Looking in breath through clenched teeth, the fae dropped a single iron masonry nail into his waiting hand. "I'm sorry, I had to do that to you." She looked up at him for a moment, and he saw her as she really was, past her glamour, a scared hurt little character that seemed lonely. Her eyes moved from his face to the pendant. "How did you do that?" Wally said from where he huddled on the couch with his wife. Lazarus lifted the piece of metal for them to see. "Pure iron. The bones of the earth. The only thing her kind are vulnerable to." "I don't understand. How did Lizzy," his question trailed off as Lazarus held up the pendant. "The one thing she got in the inheritance from your aunt. It's iron work, with a few drops of the fazed blood encased in glass." "What spoiled little girl wouldn't love a fairy godmother?" He looked over his shoulder at Elizabeth. "That's mine! Give it back! I need her!" she said as she rose. "What about her?" "Bound to serve. She's a creature you don't even understand," he said, getting to his feet. "What do you require of me?" Sylvia said as she stood. She slipped her hair down, clasping her hands in front of her, regaining her composure. "I am as one commands." Lazarus looked at her for a moment. "What do you want, child of air and darkness?" "You may speak really." The fairy seemed stunned for a moment. "None of your kind have asked me that in a long time," her eyes roamed around the room. "Then I would like to burn the family tree down to the roots for what they did to me." "But what do you really want?" She, on the verge of tears, whispering, "I want to go home." "Then follow me," replied the defender, "and I'll take you where you can get there." With that, he led the fairy out into the night, the Stevenson's, left behind them. Flashpulp is presented by Flashpulp.com and is released under the Creative Commons attribution non-commercial 3.0 unported license. Text and audio commentaries can be sent to comments@flashpulp.com, but be aware that they may appear in a future flashcast. We'd also like to thank the Free Sound Project, found at freesound.org. For a full listing of effects used during the show, as well as credits for the users who provided them, check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com. And thanks to you for listening. If you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends. [Music] Sunday is gloomy, my hours are stumbled. Here is the shadows I live with are stumbled. [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING]