Who Needs Enemies

Two of the ogres were called Moe and Curly? He had to be kidding. “Then what the hell is Larry doing?”



“Larry?” Confusion edged Guy’s voice. “Who the hell is Larry?”



Amusement rippled through me, though it did surprise me that an ogre who absolutely loved slapstick comedy did not know who the three stooges were. “Nobody. Forget it.”



“If you mean Shemp, he’s in the lounge relaying the scores.”



I barely restrained a laugh. Someone in the ogre community certainly knew about the stooges, even if Guy didn’t. “Can you keep them there until I get home?”



“Sure, no probs. It’s only a couple of trolls, after all. You’re almost out of beer, by the way.”



Now, that would be a true disaster. “I’ll pick some up on the way home.”



“Thanks. We’d appreciate that.”



I hung up, then scrolled through my contacts list and called Ceri. “Hey,” I said, when she answered. “What time you intending to get to the office?”



“Just about to leave home.” She hesitated. “Why?”



“Trolls just broke into my place. Guy and his boys are currently sitting on them. Literally.”



“I almost feel sorry for the trolls.” Amusement filled her voice. “But why are you ringing me rather than the cops?”



“Because I suspect these particular trolls were after something I have, and we need to question them—and then release them.”



She was silent for a moment, then said, “Has this got something to do with the case Lyle gave you? He’s the only reason I can think of for you not wanting to hand the the trolls over.”



“It has, and it’s not just Lyle involved now. It’s my whole damn family.” I gave her a quick update, then added “You’re scarier than me, so you need to be the one questioning them.”



She snorted. “Trolls don’t scare easily. Trust me on that.”



“Well, you have more hope of scaring them than I do. Besides, as a former cop, you know all the techniques to get people to talk.”



“And everyone fucking talks to you,” she retorted. “Hell, half the neighborhood practically lives at your house.”



“Which is just as well, because if the ogres hadn’t been there, the trolls might have gotten more than the memory cards.” Not that there was much more worth taking, given our agency was still finding its legs in the paranormal community.



“Okay, we’ll do it your way. I’ll be there in half an hour,” she said, then hung up.



I headed home, taking a small detour into the drive-through bottle shop of the local hotel to grab the beer I’d promised the ogres. Guy was still parked in my usual spot, so I stole Delilah’s—something I’d no doubt regret later.



Ceri was approaching the house from the other end of the street, and gave the beer a somewhat amused look. “That’s definitely not the way to get the ogres out of the house—not unless you plan to bribe them out with it.”



“Wouldn’t work, because Guy hasn’t got a big screen TV.”



She forced open the gate and waved me through. “Meaning they’re basically parked here for the rest of the football season?”



I grinned. “I’m afraid so.”



“Then we really do need to sort better office space out. Especially if Guy keeps inviting the fart machines he calls friends around.”



I laughed and stepped through the once again open front door. Heat hit me, warming the chill from my bones as I made my way down the hall. Ceri kicked the door shut then followed.



Guy greeted my appearance with a wide smile. “You arrived just in time. The boys were getting a little restless—the next game starts in half an hour.”



“And heaven forbid they miss the pre-match round up,” Ceri muttered.



“True, friend Ceri. Very true.” Guy’s voice was serious. “There’s money riding on the game, after all.”



And how missing the pre-match round-up could affect that was anyone’s guess. But I didn’t bother asking, just squeezed past him and continued on into the kitchen. Moe and Curly, who were pretty much ogre-versions of their namesakes, had the two trolls hog-tied on the kitchen floor and were currently perched in the middle of their backs. While trolls tended to be bigger height wise, ogres had it all over them when it came to punch per ounce. And while trolls were contract assassins, it wasn’t in their nature to fight for the hell of it. Ogres considered fighting one of life’s little necessities—much like beer, football, and pizza.



One of the trolls spotted us, and almost immediately said, “Hey, get these bastards off us. They’re heavy.”



I ignored him and headed to the fridge. Ceri dragged a chair next to the trolls and rather stiffly sat down. She didn’t say anything, just contemplated them both steadily. They shared uneasy looks. I restrained my grin, tossed three beer cans to Guy—who was hovering in the doorway—then put the rest away and leaned back against the fridge door.



Both trolls looked rather the worse for wear. One had a puffy eye and several nasty looking scrapes across one cheek, and the other had a split lip and—if the bloody flap of skin swinging to and fro was anything to go by—some gold missing from his ear. Both had been in the threesome that had attacked Lyle, but neither was the one I’d spoken to.



Ceri crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair. She was, I thought, a rather intimidating presence. No wonder she’d risen through the police ranks so swiftly—at least until the shoot-out with a crime boss that had ended with her needing spinal surgery and being pensioned off.



“Would you like to tell me why you were breaking into our house?” Her voice was polite, but there was nothing polite about the look she was giving them. The wise would have ‘fessed up instantly, but these particular trolls obviously weren’t that intelligent.



“Hey,” the troll with the gold in his ear said, “We didn’t technically break in. The door was wide open. We just entered.”



“Since you want to get technical, you might like to know that I’m a former police officer. As such, I have many friends still in the force. Believe me when I say it would be very easy to call in some favors, and get your asses thrown in jail so long that you might just start wishing for a sunlight bath.”



The troll looked her up and down with a slight sneer. “No cop can do that. Not for a crime as minor as breaking and entering.”



Ceri raised her eyebrows. “You said you didn’t break in. Besides, you’d be surprised what can happen when paperwork gets lost.”



“She could do it, too,” Guy offered helpfully. “Happened to a mate of mine last year. Totally lost him in the system for months they did.”



He was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and expression serious. And he was, I thought with amusement, lying through his teeth.



“But it’s not the cop you should be scared of, though,” he continued conversationally. “It’s that slip of a thing leaning against the refrigerator.”



The trolls gaze shot to me. Recognition stirred in their eyes. “Why?” the one with the damaged ear asked.



“Because she’s an elf-siren hybrid.” Guy gave me a slight wink. He was on a roll and enjoying it immensely. “And has the nasty tendencies of both.”



“Sirens have a nasty side?” the troll said, not looking convinced.



“Oh, hell yeah.” Guy waved a hand. “Not all siren calls end up with a little humpy. Sometimes, their tastes run to flesh and blood. The things I’ve seen Harri here eat would curl my mother’s hide, I tell ya.”



It was all I could do not to laugh. Ceri looked to be having the same sort of problem. The two trolls, however, looked nervous. They really weren’t all that bright, because anyone who knew anything about sirens knew that the only flesh they ate was fish. Red meat—which is generally what most humanoid beings would be considered—made them sick. Unfortunately, this was one siren tendency I did get.



“So,” Ceri said quickly, before Guy could roll on. “Tell me why you were sent here.”



“Well, shit,” the troll with the piece of ear missing muttered. He glanced at his companion, who simply shrugged. “We were sent here to collect whatever memory cards, cameras, and photos we could find downstairs.”



Bramwell wasn’t taking any chances, it seemed. Anger surged, but I held it in check—if only because it wouldn’t have done any good to vent anyway.



“Who by?” Ceri asked.



“Oh man, come on. You know I can’t tell you that. Contractual obligations, and all.”



“Fair enough,” Ceri said easily, and dug a hand into her pocket.



When the troll saw her phone, he said, “For fucks sake, okay. It was an elf. He didn’t leave no name.”



“What about a contact number? You have to know that given you were sent here to retrieve items for him.”



“I can’t tell you that,” the troll said, voice sullen. “It’s against policy.”



“You can always call in Delilah,” Guy said thoughtfully. “I’m sure she’ll find a way to change their minds.”



“Who’s Deliliah?” the troll asked, his gaze darting between the three of us.



“Man, you’re better off not knowing, believe me.” Guy, shuddered, and took a long drink.



The troll started to sweat. Whether it was fear or simply Moe’s weight pressing down on him was anyone’s guess. I bit back another grin.



“You have plenty of options, troll,” Ceri said quietly. “You can tell me, you can tell the police, or you can tell Delilah. Trust me when I say we’re the easiest of those three options.”



“Okay, okay,” the troll muttered. “He was supposed to ring back tonight to arrange collection. I won’t ask his name—he’ll know something is up if I do—but I will run a trace and get his number.”