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you also here on behalf of Ben?”

“Who’s Ben?”  Jerry asked curiously. Jerry was always eager for pieces of information.

 “Nobody likes a busybody,” I responded irritably.

“I’d like a shot of mercury.”

I stopped wiping down the bar counter and looked at him more closely. “Who are you representing?” I asked finally. I didn’t like dealing with Jerry. He had no loyalty to anyone but himself.

“He wants to remain anonymous, and besides, nobody likes a busybody,” he said with a grin “or at least that’s what some people tell me.”

“Cute,” I said rolling my eyes, “but I don’t do business unless I know who I’m dealing with.”

“Jerry Donovan,” he said, reaching out his hand.

“I know who you are, Jerry, you idiot,” I said ignoring his hand. “Who are you representing, and what do they want?”

“I’m representing Mr. X.”

 Mr. X was one of the elementalists who occasionally used my business to trade with people he didn’t have formal agreements with.

“Can I see your hand?” I asked, albeit slightly less suspiciously. Mr. X stamped all of his employees with a holographic mark of an x that only revealed when illuminated by Blacklight. I pulled my Blacklight pen out of my back pocket and shined it on his hand. A silver x popped up.  “You seem to check out,” I said finally, while sliding  my blacklight back into my pocket. I poured Jerry a shot of vodka and waited for him to talk.

“So,” Jerry began conversationally, “word is that the elusive smuggler you work for is an air elementalist."

“My boss likes her privacy,” I said, caution filling my tone. While I actually owned and ran the smuggling business, it didn’t pay to have word getting out that I was an air elementalist, or the actual owner. I preferred people to believe that I was only an employee.

It was always good to keep the clientele guessing who, as well as just how powerful their potential contractor actually was. If they knew it was just little old me behind the curtain, I had a distinct feeling they would be more likely to try to take advantage. Plus, I didn't  want word getting back to the elementalist community that there was an independant air elemental in town.

 “Well,” Jerry continued, “be that as it may, my boss asked me to offer her an arrangement. He is a fire elemental that is looking for a spouse.”

“Good for him,” I said non-committally.

“He’s twenty-four. He needs to marry an air elemental or as a fire elemental he will die in the next year or so.” He said this slowly, as though explaining the ways of the world to a three-year-old.

“That’s sad for him, because she’s not interested.”

There was an awkward pause.

“How would you know that?” Jerry asked. “You didn’t even ask her.”

“I don’t need to ask her. If an elementalist conducts business here in this shit hole it would most probably be to avoid douchebags like this fire elemental you represent.”

“That seems a bit harsh, you don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to know him personally. In my experience, when other elementalists deign to grace our rundown neighborhood, they come to take what they want, from whoever they want. They seem to live by that age old ‘right of might’ philosophy.”

 “It sounds like you have something personal against elementalists .”

 “Oh, I do,” I said bitterly. “A fire elementalist raped my mother, so you can see why I might be protective of my friend.”

Jerry went silent for a beat, apparently at a loss of words at my abrupt admission. He finally regrouped, saying, “That fire elemental is the exception, most of the elementalist community are quite civilized in my experience."

“Are you an elementalist?” I challenged.

“No.”

“Well little minion, I highly doubt they air their dirty underbelly to a mere employee.”

“Will you consider just telling your boss about my employer’s interest?” Jerry queried.

“Oh, I’ll consider it, and while I do, you can tell Mr. X to go fuck himself.”

“Did you know Mr. X was an elementalist before now?” Jerry asked.

 “Yes. I knew,” I said tersely.

“It doesn’t sound like you like that fact, yet your boss still chooses to do business with him.”

“What’s it to you, Jerry?” I asked, feeling angry indignation rise up in my middle. This conversation should have ended a while ago.

“Hey, I just work for the guy,” Jerry said, hands up in the universal move for surrender, “don’t get your panties in a twist. All I’m saying is, you might not know your boss as well as you think you do... you being a mere minion and all.”

I tightened my grip on the bar, trying to keep myself calm.

“Oh, and, just so you know,” he continued, “if she doesn’t form the alliance, she might start losing customers.”

My control teetered on the edge.

Just then Boy-Penny appeared at my shoulder, grabbed Jerry by the lapels, and lifted him off the floor. She smiled benignly up at him while giving him a couple of  bone jarring shakes.

Deep breathing, I reminded myself, grateful my friend had come along before I lost my temper completely. Sometimes intense emotions made me lose control of my element, and when I did, bad things happened. The last thing I needed right now was for everyone, including Jerry, to figure out what I was.

“Listen buddy,” I said, poking him with my index finger, “I’ve had a shitty day. The last thing I need is a two-faced moron casing my boss’s territory. I’m going to say this once real slow, so you remember exactly what to tell your employer. My smuggler boss is not interested in an alliance with one of her kind. She does not want to waste time sipping tea and plotting diabolical ways to keep the man down. If he pursues this matter instead of settling for one of his own despicable ilk, she will rain down a shit storm the likes of which he has never seen before.”

Jerry’s face was flushed either from anger, or from being partly strangled, I didn’t really care. Penny switched her grip, so that she held

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