Cameron Haley - Mob rules

"Cool," I said, and tossed the soul jar onto the couch.

"That should have killed you, Domino," Honey said. Her face was pale and she was trembling.

"Didn't."

"I can see that. I don't understand it."

"I am Dominica Riley, called Half-elven. My father was a fairy prince exiled to this world long ago, and he hooked up with Mom when he was passing through L.A."

"Really?"

"No. He was a deadbeat drunk. Split on us when I was two."

"Not funny. So did it work? Can you…"

I nodded. "Yeah, I have it all, I think." I pictured Anton in my mind, and just like that, I was an obese Russian man.

"That's disgusting, Domino."

"I am becoming to be hungry," I said in my thick Muscovite accent. "You have chips?" I laughed. The word sounded like "cheeps." It sounded exactly like Anton. "R-r-ruffles have r-r-ridges," I said, rolling the Rs dramatically.

"Ya umeu govorit' po russki," I said in Russian.

"What are you saying, Domino?"

"I said, 'I can speak Russian.'" I laughed again, and shifted back to my own, more feminine Mexican-Irish form.

"That's great, Domino, but you still have to let me come with you."

This time, I actually saw the cloud of pixie dust come billowing toward me. It was golden and glowing, like sunlight through a window, and I knew I was only seeing it because of the fairy magic inside me. I took a deep breath and blew. My breath was laced with sapphire juice. It cut through and dispersed the cloud of pixie dust.

"Damn," Honey said.

I looked at the walls of my living room, and now I could see Honey's paint job wasn't real. I saw the magic pulsing there, and I could see through it to the white drywall.

"Okay, Honey, you can come with me."

"What changed your mind?"

"Now I know what you people can do, I'm going to need all the help I can get."

Mom still lived in East L.A. in the house where I was born. I'd offered to buy her a condo in a gentrified neighborhood in Eagle Rock or Highland Park, but she said she'd never leave the barrio. As an outfit girl, I've learned to pick my battles. This was one I'd never win. Anyway, the barrio was still on Rashan's turf-she was probably safer there than she'd be in Beverly Hills.

Honey was nervous about coming to dinner. I guess fairies are a little skittish about revealing themselves to humans-unless they're playing an angle.

"You want to come with me? Okay, this is my first stop," I said.

"I could be invisible," Honey suggested, a worried frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Mom's a medium. She'd probably sense you anyway. Better if you just play it straight. Besides, I already told her I was bringing someone."

"You did?"

"Yeah. She probably thinks you're a new boyfriend."

Honey mumbled something I couldn't quite make out.

"What?"

"Nothing. Jesus, Domino, you could have told her what I am. She's going to be really disappointed."

I shrugged. "I couldn't think of a good way to tell her you're a piskie. Better she just sees for herself."

"You don't think it's going to freak her out?"

"It's not like she's never met a spirit before, in her line of work. She met Mr. Clean, once. Didn't care for him much."

"She probably won't like me, either."

"She'll like you fine. You might want to glamour up some clothes, though, just this once. Mom's pretty conservative."

"You're a gangster and she accepts you."

"Yeah, but I'm her daughter, so I have to work pretty hard at it to do anything wrong. Besides, the way Mom sees it, living a life of crime and violence is one thing. Naked women are something else entirely."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Well, maybe you want to explain that to her. Just let me know so I can go somewhere else."

Honey sulked most of the drive out to the barrio, but she dusted up a pretty little floral sundress before we pulled up outside the well-kept bungalow. Mom was waiting for us at the door when we stepped onto the porch.

"I've been waiting for you, Dominica," Mom said.

"You can see the future, Mom. I guess you knew we'd be late."

Gisela Maria Lopez Riley was fifty-four years old, but she looked at least ten years older. Life in the barrio raising a juvenile delinquent tomboy as a single mother will do that to you. There was as much silver in her hair as black, and the deep creases in her face spoke of hard years. But she was still just as slender as she'd been as a young girl when she met my father. They'd been the kind of Roman Catholic couple that ordinarily has at least eight kids, but then Dad took off. I had the feeling Mom would have gladly traded her figure for another half dozen ninos.

"Where is your friend, Dominica?" Mom asked, as she led me into the house. The living room was where she conducted her business, and it was filled with the trappings of the Mexican bruja. Portraits of Jesus and the Madonna shared space on the darkly painted walls with crucifixes and indio art. Statues of the saints and candles of all sizes and colors huddled on every horizontal surface. A dramatically hideous beaded curtain set off the room from the rest of the house.

"She's here, Mom." I turned and looked behind me, but there was no sign of the piskie. I patted the front of my jacket and lifted the lapels to look inside. Nada. "Honey, come on," I said. "This is ridiculous."

Honey dropped her invisibility glamour and materialized right in front of my mother. She'd brought a tiny flower from her garden, and she offered it shyly. "Hello, Mrs. Riley. It's very nice to meet you. I'm Honey."

Mom's eyes grew wide, and for a moment I feared cardiac arrest was imminent. Then she laughed, and it was a sound I recognized very well from my childhood-the sound of simple delight in small things. She took the flower and set it carefully in her hair.

"Thank you, Honey," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, too, and welcome to my home."

After that, I didn't get in another word until we'd finished dinner. I helped clear the table and then went out on the porch to smoke while Mom and Honey took care of the dishes. Yes, I offered to help. No, they didn't let me because I'd just be in the way. Both were familiar with my housekeeping skills.

When they were finished, they came out to the porch to join me and enjoy the cool evening. We sat on the swing together, with Honey perched between us. They chatted like they'd lived next door to each other all their lives. Mom was telling Honey about a client of hers, an elderly widower who had-to hear my mom tell it-more or less ignored his wife for the fifty years of their marriage. Now that she was gone, he was distraught and desperate to contact her in the Beyond. The overall theme seemed to be the general pigheadedness of men.

After an hour or so, they'd said all they could say about that. Their attention turned to me.

"Why are you so quiet, Dominica?" my mother asked. I thought about mentioning that I couldn't get a word in edgewise, but I didn't think about it long. I generally keep the sarcasm holstered when I'm talking to Mom.

"I'm fine," I said. "Great dinner, Mom, thanks." I'd never found a better tamale, and I'd been all over L.A. looking for one.

"She's not fine," Honey said. "But she'll never admit it. She's very stubborn."

"She certainly is that," my mother agreed. She looked at me, and covered my folded hands with one of hers. "Your world is changing, Dominica, and you're not sure about your place in it anymore."

I nodded. There wasn't any point denying it-you give up a certain amount of privacy at a young age when your mother is a fortune-teller. Besides, this was why I'd come. I needed her. Chavez was pulling everything together in Crenshaw, and this was my last chance for a reality check before I went to war.

"It's the magic. I'm not sure I can handle it. I'm hurting people, Mom, you know? I don't mean to, but I do. But it'll hurt people if I stop, too."