name
is Michael."
"I give up," said Blood, starting to slur his words. "This is all some sort
of
alcoholic nightmare."
"Have another drink," said Makepeace.
The bottle of Scotch was almost empty. Looking a little ropy, Blood tipped
the
bottle back and took a big, hearty slug from it. The level of the
amber-colored
fluid slowly rose back up until the bottle was completely full again. Blood
stared at it, dumbfounded.
Wyrdrune gave Makepeace a strange look. "What are you doing?" he said.
"Oh, the poor guy's had a real hard day," said Makepeace. "He needs to get a
little shitfaced. Bottoms up, kiddo," he said to Blood, and the chief
inspector
obligingly took another long pull at the bottle.
Merlin frowned, watching Blood chug the Scotch down as if it were water.
"Does
that man realize what he's doing?"
Makepeace grinned. "Not really, no."
Kira passed her hand in front of Blood's face several times. He was
oblivious.
"Wow," she said.
As if in slow motion, Blood started to lean forward, stiff as a board. As he
toppled to the floor Makepeace stretched his arm out and made a grasping
motion
with his right hand. Blood's momentum stopped, and he froze, floating
motionlessly about three niches above the floor.
"Bedroom?" said Makepeace, raising his shaggy eyebrows.
"That one," Merlin said, pointing at a door.
Makepeace wagged his index finger, and Blood, stiff as a carp, rose up until
he
was about three feet off the floor. Then, as Makepeace slowly moved his arm in
a
sweeping gesture, guiding him, Blood floated toward the bedroom. Jacqueline
opened the door and stood aside to allow the policeman's body to pass
through,
then slowly settle down onto the bed. The door closed by itself behind him.
Merlin glanced at Wyrdrune and grunted. "Maybe he really is a fairy," he said.
"And maybe he's just a neurotic sorcerer who thinks he's Aiken Drum, the
Brownie," Wyrdrune mumbled under his breath so that only Merlin could hear.
He
leaned closer and lowered his voice even more. "There's really no such thing
as
fairies, is there?"