Frappes and Flying Machines, Mystic Brews #8 ebook

“Well, at least you’re not stuck as a cat.”

“You mean a snarky cat.” My familiar was in an impertinent mood today. But then again, he was always in that kind of mood. I poked him in the side with my foot while we stood staring at the teal-and-pink trailer before us.

Punkin looked up at me. “Why are we riding with Red today?” 

“Look, Fuzzbutt, the Mystic Brews coffee caravan will not transport itself to the airshow.” 

The flap on the side of the trailer rose with a soft screech. A bearded, rugged face came slowly into view. Red, our local handyman in Misty Valley, spun the crank with a long wooden-handled rod that lifted the flap covering the service window part of the trailer. Behind Red stood the reconditioned espresso machine that had formerly sat in Mystic Brews. Reconditioned because Rhodri Reece had fired his elephant musket full of depleted demonic shot into it. I was surprised we were able to get it back in under a month.

“There you be, lass. Got it working proper now.” He disconnected the rod and dropped it into the slot in the narrow shelf on the inside of the window.

“Thanks. The problem with buying a secondhand trailer is that it comes with a few glitches.”

“Not at all, lass. My pleasure to help. Anything else you wan’ me to look at before we go?”

I shook my head. “No. Just happy that you’ll be pulling the trailer to the airshow.”

“My little van isn’t as powerful as my old pickup truck, but Ted needed it more than me. Climb in the front seat. We’ll get you out to the Trimbolt estate in no time.”

Red was correct. On both counts. Ted had needed a good work truck. Even though he had more than enough wealth to hire a fleet of trucks, Ted could only drive one. And Red’s was big enough to get the job done. So, Ted bought a caravan large enough to hold Red’s handyman tools and carry the materials Red would need from day to day, then they traded. Since Ted was hiding his real identity, a simple trade, with a cover story that he’d lucked into a good deal, halted most suspicions.  Still, I worried about the hauling capacity compared to his old truck. But I buckled myself into the front left seat. 

Punkin jumped onto my lap and leaned his front paws on the dash. “Io’s Mini could have pulled the trailer. He’s got a 4.5 experimental-grade demon.” Punkin looked at Red. “You sure this thing can move the coffee wagon?”

“With the demon Ted purchased for me, this has more than enough kick.” Red pointed at the sky, where a vintage plane was zipping around Misty Valley. “With the limits on demons they put on the old planes in the airshow, I’m surprised any of those things can fly.”

That made my tummy flip. “Demons in the planes?”

“Of course. Those be fae planes. You didn’t expect fae pilots to be using dirty petrol engines, did you?” Red said and eased the caravan and trailer out of the Mystic Brews car park. 

“Just how big are those demons?” I looked out the window, following a bright green plane as it looped and twisted through the sky.

“I’m not sure, lass. We could ask Colonel Meta of the Pixie Air Wing. He had to give his blessing before the mayor could get his permits for the airshow.”

Overhead, the green plane climbed almost straight up, twisting as it went. It slowed, then paused and began to fall. I sucked in a breath and kept my eyes glued to it. The underside of the plane was a light blue, similar to the midday sky—at least when this part of the UK got sunny skies. After a few seconds of drifting down in a slow spin, the plane oriented itself nose down, green wings facing me. It was far enough away I couldn’t read the sponsor’s name emblazoned across the upper wing.

The plane dove low enough that I could see the open cockpit between the wings of the biplane. The plane flipped upside down, directly over the main road through the village. I couldn’t see much of the pilot, just a vaguely human shape. Brown hair… or was that a leather helmet? Yep, some sort of helmet. Goggles protected the pilot’s eyes. 

The plane roared overhead. The green wings faced down, and the pilot’s red scarf fluttered behind them. Whoever it was gave a sharp salute as they flew over us. I raised a hand and waved back.

“If there’s a demon in the engine, why is that plane so loud?” I asked.

“Dinnae know, lass. Ask the airshow organisers.”

We rode in silence the rest of the way. Red did a good job of keeping his eye on the road and not ogling the aerial acrobatics. He left that to Punkin and me. The green plane took a wide circuit around the width of the valley from one end to the other and began another climb.

A pwca in a bright yellow vest, standing on a tree stump, used a flag on a stick to direct Red over to the side of a field just up from the dark mire behind Trimbolt Manor. Another pwca with a flag waved us towards the vendor area. The Hoppy Gnome and White Hart already had their food trailers set up. 

Down the hill, several magical structures had been erected. They looked like normal buildings, but I knew they were magical constructs made to assemble and disassemble with a flick of the wand. Hangars for the vintage aeroplanes, sleeping rooms, and offices for the race officials. Only a few planes were out of the dozen hangars on the field near the runway. Several of the structures had the large door open to reveal a plane inside. All were of the old variety. Most were bi-planes, with one wing stacked over another. But I didn’t have time to stare. The pwca on the hilltop directed Red where to back up with my Mystic Brews coffee trailer.

“We’re working out here each morning, right?” Punkin asked, turning his head to stare at the planes.

“Nia is. With a new girl. We’ll take the café shift, then head out here for the afternoon,” I said, peering into the rearview mirror attached to the passenger door. This trailer, though used, was a new purchase for me. It wasn’t super expensive, but refurbishing it, getting my old espresso machine revamped, and bringing the trailer up to health and safety specs, even with the fae connections in the ministry, had taken most of my Dymestl trust income for the summer. Fortunately, Aunt Rose had stepped in and said she’d provide the magical assistance we needed to make it functional.

“There you be, lass. Take a look and let me know if we need to adjust before we drop the legs and get it level.”

I unbuckled and slid out of the caravan. Punkin jumped out after me and ran towards the hangars. “Hey, Fuzzbutt! The coffee trailer is this way.”

He paused near the Hoppy Gnome trailer and bobbed his head past the rows of wooden bleachers set up along the runway. “The planes are that way.” 

“Later. You stay up here in case we need help getting the trailer set up. You can tail-twitch better than me and Red.”

“Bah!” 

I looked down to where he wanted to go. Even now, on the first practise day, valley residents were scattered through the bleachers and had blankets and chairs set up in the grassy areas to this side of the field, so they could watch the planes.

“You help set up, then watch the planes. They’re here all week, silly.”

I gave the trailer location a good once-over and heard pixie wings as I waved to Red to unhook it.

“Wow! Ebrel, did you see that green plane? That was almost as good as a pixie can fly. That pilot was something else!”

“That’s a fine compliment coming from a pixie.” I glanced up at the trailer’s roof, where Nia sat in her tiny form. “Now I just have to find out where to get water.” I looked around for a tap to hook into.

“Rhosyn said we needed to ask Lady Trimbolt.” Nia stood, still only three inches tall, shading her eyes against the sun. “I can go look for her. And for the green plane. I bet it was a pixie flying it. That was brilliant flying.”

“Find Liddy first. Then come back here and help me get set up.”

“Roger, Wilco!” Nia called and zipped off down the hill.

By now, Red had the front stabilising wheel down and was cranking to raise the hitch enough to pull his caravan out. 

“Give me a minute, lass. Once I move the beast of a caravan, I’ll get your trailer levelled out.”

Another ten minutes passed before Red pronounced us secure and level enough for me and Punkin to set up the coffee bar inside.

“You’ve got an Infernal-brand generator right here, and the heat for water here.” Red pointed to the controls. He toggled the generator. A small whiff of brimstone belched from the roof vent and drifted past the service window, which I had cracked open along with the roof vent to get airflow into the trailer. “Don’t push the heat on until Lady Liddy gets you some water. You don’t want to crack the cistern.”

“Anything I should know about the electrical system?” 

Red shook his head. “I put all the switches where you said. All the equipment is wired direct, and powered once the generator demon is active. I gave it a full load of faerock dust. According to the Infernal company, that should last you a good fortnight before you need to feed the system again.”

“Thanks. Once Liddy shows me where the water hookup is, we can get you a latte for the road.” I tipped my head back towards where he parked his caravan. “Did you bring me enough hose to hook up?”

Red gave a smile and stepped back, away from the open door, making way for Liddy Trimbolt, one of our resident Dryad coven and mother of Eddie, Lord Trimbolt. Gone were her raggedy old mud-stained dresses and her guise as the old crone of the dark mire. Instead, she wore simple slacks and a nice top. 

“A very nice trailer, my dear.” Liddy looked around as she stepped in. “I just need you to open the cistern.”

“Second cupboard, lower right.” Red pointed. “I left the clean-out vent loose. Once you tell me, I’ll tighten it up.”

Liddy dropped to a knee by the cupboard. The large steel drum had a pipe fitting with a cap on the side, at least wide enough for me or Liddy to reach a hand inside the cistern. She spun the cap loose, then reached into her pocket and withdrew a sparkling light-blue gem.

“A gift from the gwragedd annwn.”

“And that is the, um…?” I didn’t even try to pronounce the. My command of the Welsh language was still rudimentary.

“The maidens of the lakes. The ancient ancestors of all water fae. They value the protection Her Grace gives their underground lakes and have gifted Lady Rhosyn and you this gem, which draws from their clearest water.”

“A gem. Not a hose to a spigot?”

Liddy grinned and spun the cap back onto the valve, then stood to get out of Red’s way. He reached in with a large spanner to twist it tight.

“If you’ll not be needing me, I’ll head back into town.” Red glanced my way. “You got a ride back?”

“Elain and Io are both coming out tonight. I’ll catch a ride with one of them. Need a coffee for the road?” 

Red shook his head. “Already had plenty today, lass. Thank you, though.”

I waved Red on his way. He’d spent nearly all morning putting the final touches on the new coffee trailer.

“Here, Ebrel. Let me show you how to activate and deactivate the gem.” Liddy slid her wand from her sleeve. “It draws water from the lakes of the maidens. You’ll need to turn it off whenever you need to empty the tank.” 

Fifteen minutes later, Liddy was satisfied with my wanding abilities. Especially after my initial overpowered charge that shot the gauge from empty to full in just a second. “You’re definitely a Dymestl. You will learn finesse in time.”

“Io’s trying to teach me. But…” I let the thought trail off.

“Every few months, another need arises before you’ve been properly trained.” Liddy smiled and touched my arm to reassure me. “You did well closing those two portals last month.”

“Thanks. I… uh… I tried to remember what you did down at the fountain, and repeated it.”

“Hey! Give the pwca some credit.” Punkin called from metal steps into the trailer. “I saved the day on the big one, remember?”

“That you did, stinker.” I chuckled. 

Liddy grinned and bent down to rub his fuzzy cheek. “I cannot say your choice of a spell focus was ideal, but it worked well enough for Ebrel and Jessica to lock the otherworld away from ours.”

“Ebrel!” Nia called. She was tall again and stuck her head in the open door. “You’ll never guess who was piloting the green plane!”