“No, Perun, we have to go after her,” she insists, unlocking left arm. I try not to fall, but I topple forward. Flidais pushes me back to post.
“Thanks,” I say, trying to lock knees and stay upright. Legs tremble beneath me. “Go after who?”
“The mad nymph who did this. She’s trackable now. She’s one of my daughter’s.”
“Fand sent nymph here?”
“No, I doubt that. She simply fled Tír na nóg after Fand failed to overthrow Brighid, and she found a way to live in the iron world.”
The woman with zipper mouth comes forward and asks if I am all right, if we need help.
“Maybe,” Flidais says. “Help keep him standing for me if he needs it when I undo this last manacle.”
Zipper Woman puts shoulder underneath my left arm. “What happened?”
“He’s just having an episode,” Flidais says, which is true but hardly whole story. She undoes other arm, and I would have fallen except that she and Zipper Woman hold me up. Never have I been so weak. “We need to get him to coat check. I have some medicine in my pocket.” I am thinking this must be lie. How could she have medicine for this? But I stagger to coat check with their help, past the stage and peoples who continue to do sex under lights and loud music.
Vision clears more, but I do not see this nymph. I want to ask Flidais more but do not think is good time when Zipper Woman can hear.
Pierced tattoo man gives us coats, and Flidais takes small glass bottle out of pocket and removes cork. “Drink this,” she says.
Is like chocolate sludge with alcohol and maybe handful of sand. I choke it down, cough a few times, eyes watering. And as I look down I see I am not so excited anymore. Penis droops like very sad snake. I put it away and close up flap of jock.
“Better?” she asks, nodding her head to give me hint at right answer.
“Yes,” I say. “Much better now.”
“Thanks for your help,” Flidais says to Zipper Woman. “We’ll be fine. Enjoy your evening.”
Zipper Woman also takes hint and leaves us. We put on coats and move away from counter so we can talk in privates. My legs steady now but I move slow.
“Tell me about nymph. And what I drank.”
“The drink is something Goibhniu brewed up before he died. It was a gift to me, to restore my energy should I need it when hunting in cities, cut off from the earth. But I thought it would help you out in this instance. You should be feeling better very soon.”
“Already feel better. But how did you know I would need?”
“A couple days ago Aloysius MacBharrais informed me that one of the Fae had been preying on sexual energy in the Cuddle Dungeon, violating some very old treaties that the Tuatha Dé Danann have with the Scots. As a courtesy he contacted me to ask if I’d like to take care of it, and I said I would. Because whoever it turned out to be might know something about Fand. And I’d like to know what started her doing this.”
“I would like to know this too! Nymph is maniac.”
Flidais snorts and grins as if I say something funny. “Are you ready?”
“No, I have important question.” With my wits returning, I am realizing that she uses me. She planned to or she would not have brought potion. She knew from start that nymph would be here. “Why am I bait for nymph without asking me first?”
“Because you wouldn’t have enjoyed yourself if you knew we were hunting while playing. And because you’ll be fine.”
“I did not get to enjoy myself and am not fine, Flidais. You bring me here under false pretense.”
“No, I didn’t. I said we were going to play tonight, and we did. I left out the part where I’d be mixing a bit of business with our pleasure, but the pleasure will resume soon. You will be better than before, and I promise I will make it up to you. But we have to catch her first.”
“Why?”
“You want to be a god of thunder again, don’t you?”
“I am god of thunder now.”
“In name only, I’m afraid. She didn’t just rob you of an orgasm. She stole your thunder.”
I scoff at this. “Impossible.” But I try to feel the clouds and moisture in air and cannot. Is worrisome, but I remember this happens sometimes when I am underground. “Is she still here?”
“No, she left the building as soon as she could. But we’ll find her.”
“Let’s go.” We make way through maze of marshmallow wall to stairs and then dark alley, my mood souring like goat milk in sun. Scots wizard with mustache is waiting there. He dips head to our left.
“She went that way,” he says. “Very unstable.”
“Thanks, Aloysius,” Flidais says. We jog down alley, and body feels much better now but no longer like god. I cannot feel clouds or winds. Nymph really did steal powers.
“If that Scotsman can find her, why not have him help you hunt this nymph? Why let her take my strength?”
“Because nymphs are nearly impossible to hunt unless you mark them somehow or know exactly where they like to hide. They just disappear into whatever element they’re kin to. Fill her up with thunder god, though, and she won’t blend in no matter what she does. Can you smell it? Singed air and burned hair. She got more than she bargained for.”
Is fair to say I also got more than I bargained for. Or maybe I get no bargain at all. I come to dungeon for good time—which maybe is problem, I admit—but I get bad time instead. Is very uncomfortable to feel stripped of what made me Perun. If nymph has my power and I confront her now, will I still be immune to lightning?
I am seething as we follow trail through wet cobbled streets of Edinburgh. Is good English word, this seething. Very much anger but very much hidden. Because this should not be happening. I should not be casual means to some end. Especially an end I am not knowing. Flidais continues to hide true purposes from me. The end I want is to feel the lightning again.
“She’s heading to Holyrood Park,” Flidais says, nostrils flaring, following scent. “We have to—wait, there she is!”
She points ahead to staggering person under streetlights. Looks like tiny dark-haired woman fighting bees around her head, except there are no bees. Is only madness and sparks of lightning. Peoples give cry and move away from her on street because she frightens them. She is in clear pains. Small Irish nymph is not meant to hold powers of old Slavic god.
She is also close to park—lights end ahead, and that must mean large place of nature.
We pick up paces because target is now clear. Flidais is faster and tackles nymph just as she reaches first grass of park. Nymph roars like me, not making noise one would expect from tiny person. Lightning strikes Flidais, not from sky but from nymph, and surrounds her in forking tongues of blue and white. She is protected by fulgurite talisman and shouts at nymph to stop, she just wants to talk. She flips nymph onto back and pins her.
But nymph has no control of this power. Head shakes back and forth, roar keeps going with rage of modern boy playing video game, and eyes glow with fire of angry sky.