Fair Game

them.
    “You’d be Mrs. Cullinan,” he said, as soon as he was on their side of the street and close enough for quiet conversation. He had one of those mildly good-looking faces that didn’t stand out in a crowd—except for his eyes. No matter how she tried, Leslie could never remember what color his eyes were, only that they were odd and strange and beautiful.
    “You know I am,” Mrs. Cullinan said stiffly.
    “We appreciate you calling us on this and I would like to leave you with a reward.” He held a business card out to her. “A favor when you need it most.”
    “If the children are safe to play in their yards, that is reward enough.” She dried her hands on her hips and made no move to take the card from him.
    He smiled and did not put down his hand. “I will not leave indebted to you, Mrs. Cullinan.”
    “And Iknow better than to accept a gift from the fairies,” she snapped.
    “Onetime reward,” he said. “A little thing. I promise that no intentional harm will come to you or yours from this as long as I am alive.” Then, in a coaxing voice, he said, “Come, now. I cannot lie. This is a different age, when your kind and ours needs must learn to live together. You could have called the police with your suspicions—which were correct. Had you done so, she would not have gone without killing a great many more than the children she has already taken.” He sighed and glanced back at the car’s darkened windows. “It is difficult to change when you are so old, and she was always in the habit of eating small things, was our Nellie.”
    “Which is why I called you,” Mrs. Cullinan said stoutly. “I didn’t know who it was taking the little ones until I saw Nellie over by our backyard two nights ago and this child’s puppy was missing in the morning.”
    The fae looked at Leslie for the first time, but Leslie was too upset to read his face. “Eating small things,” the man had said. Puppies were small things.
    “Ah,” he said after a long moment. “Child, you may take what comfort you can that your puppy’s death meant that no more would die from that one’s misdeeds. Hardly fair recompense, I know, but it is something.”
    “Give it to her,” Mrs. Cullinan said suddenly. “Her puppy’s dead. Give her your reward. I’m an old woman with cancer; I won’t live out the year. Give it to her.”
    The fae man looked at Mrs. Cullinan, then knelt on one knee before Leslie, who was holding very tightly to her father’s hand. She didn’t know if she was crying for her puppy, the old woman who was more her mother than her mother had ever been—or for herself.
    “A gift for a loss,” hesaid. “Take this and use it when you most need it.”
    Leslie put her free hand behind her back. He was trying to make up for her puppy’s death with a present, just like people had tried to do after her mom had left. Presents didn’t make things better. Quite the opposite, in her experience. The giant teddy bear her mama had given her the night she left was buried in the back of the closet. Although Leslie couldn’t stand to get rid of it, she also couldn’t look at it without feeling sick.
    “With this you could get a car or a house,” the man said. “Money for an education.” He smiled, quite kindly—and it made him look totally different, more real, somehow, as he said, “Or save some other puppy from monsters. All you have to do is wish hard and tear up the card.”
    “Any wish?” Leslie asked warily, taking the card, more because she didn’t want to be the focus of this man’s attention any longer than because she wanted the card. “I want my puppy back.”
    “I can’t bring anyone or anything back to life,” he told her sadly. “I would that I could. But outside of that, almost anything.”
    She stared at the card in her hand. It had one word written across it: GIFT .
    He stood up. Then he smiled—an expression as merry and light as anything she’d ever seen. “And, Miss Leslie,” he said, when he shouldn’t have known her name at all, “no wishing for more wishes. It doesn’t work like that.”
    She’d just been wondering…
    The strange man turned to Mrs. Cullinan and took her hand in his and kissed it. “You are a lady of rare beauty, quick wits, and generous spirit.”
    “I’m a nosy, interfering old woman,” she responded, but Leslie could see that she was pleased.
    As an adult, Leslie kept the card the fairy man had given her tucked behind her driver’s