With a princess killer to catch, a host of fairy-tale characters to wrangle and a crumbling career to resurrect, fallen hotshot Agent Fields has his hands full. And that's before the case leads to a story-obsessed, dimension-hopping scientist, hellb...
And, sliding past Fields as if he wasn't even there, alighted on Peregrine. The frown returned. The effort clear on his troubled features, the movement laboured and unsteady, the prince raised an arm and pointed at the road, his mouth working in an apparent effort to speak.
"D-d-d-d—"
"Yes?" encouraged Peregrine.
"Spit it out," said Fields.
"Perhaps I could kick him in—" began Embers.
"No!" barked the two agents.
"—d-d-dish!" finished the prince. Smiling in triumph, he moved his arm to point at Peregrine, and then, without warning, passed out, collapsing back into his former limp and immobile state.
"Oh. I see." Blush fading, Ember's expression became ever so slightly frosty. She sniffed. "Yes, well. Hmm."
Expression bemused, Peregrine stood motionless for a few seconds, before breaking into a grin and giving the princess a playful shove. "Don't sweat it, slugger—you're still the resident hottie in this little group. Prince Ken wasn't chatting me up"—she paused for a surreptitious peek at the reflection of her butt in the Jaguar's window—"or at least, I don't think he was."
"No?" asked Fields, surprised to be feeling unaccountably a little frosty himself. "So, what was he doing then?"
"Well, unless I'm mistaken, I think he might have been telling us where to go. You guys take old Ken back into the home while I get Pearl warmed up. I'll explain on the way."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As the road signs once again flashed by, this time even faster than before, Fields tried very hard not to think about the Jag's alarming lack of airbags, anti-lock brakes and traction control, and even harder not to think about its possession of a nuclear reactor, combined with a driver who seemed to consider watching the road to be an optional and overrated component of the whole driving business. Tried, and for the most part, failed. Gritting his teeth, clenching his buttocks, and gripping the door handle with convulsive strength, he forced his mind back onto the case.
"So, where are we going?"
"Hmm?" Busy fiddling with the vehicle's sound system, Peregrine looked up just in time to swerve around a cement truck, before turning back to face her partner. "What's that?"
"I said—look out for that van!"
With a quick glance back to the front, Peregrine skimmed past the rear corner of a bright orange Kombi, overtaking it on the highway's verge, before—with a squeal of tyres—barrelling back across to the middle lane. "No, that wasn't it. Before that." She gave the sound system a final, decisive poke, and the opening chords of a music track filled the car, crystal clear and stunning in their fidelity.
It only took a few bars for Fields to recognise the song—Don't Lose Your Head, by INXS. He shook his head. Figures.
Embers began to bob along to the music. "Oh Peregrine, what an interesting piece," she enthused, looking around the interior of the car. "Wherever do you fit the orchestra?"
"Ha! That's a bit of a long story, slugger. Just a little more of our world's magic. Well, kind of—when I was in the future, I got the sound system upgraded, too."
"What I said," interjected Fields, feeling the need to get the conversation back on track, "was, where are we going? You said Ken...er, the prince...I mean, the entity, told us where to go. How could he do that with one word?"
"Partner, what was that one word?"
"Dish," replied Fields, with a frown. "But that doesn't..." He trailed off, as understanding dawned. "Oh, right. Of course. But are you sure that's what he meant?"
"Sure? Nope. But until he wakes his sorry arse up and lets us know either way, have you got any better ideas?"
Fields considered this. "Well, we could put out an APB on Featherstone's car. But given I don't particularly fancy explaining it's because we think he's importing princesses from other dimensions and has been abducted by a witch, I'd really rather not."
"Ha-ha, now you're getting in the swing of the whole Section F thing. More often than not, partner, you'll find when the freaky shit hits the bizarro fan, it's easier to pick up a hose than to call the cleaners. So, let's get moving."
Fields grip on the door tightened, as his buttocks reached hitherto unprecedented levels of clench. "Get moving?"
