Author's note: Welcome to today's episode of "don't poke the bear"

Here is Storm's time to shine, bad pun fully intended.

Enjoy ^^

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When fairytale issues begin popping left and right, there are two options: break down in a nice padded cell, or decide that since you’re crazy anyway you might as well enjoy the ride. Besides, fairytales got nice toys. And drool-worthy abs under bronzed skin. And…well, you get the picture.

Abigail Ortiz looking at a certain someone training

I only went back downstairs at lunch time, deciding to give my parents as much time and privacy as I could. They had managed to compose themselves fairly well despite a heavy atmosphere, though I purposely avoided looking at the red rims of mom’s eyes or my father’s brooding face.

It was a shame that Kate was having lunch at her school’s cafeteria, since she always manages to lighten the mood, and neither I nor Storm were brilliant conversationalists.

To top it all, there was still the issue of our neighbor to settle, though I was reluctant to bring it to the table. Sighing, I dived in, thinking that it might at least make a good diversion.

“I didn’t see our other neighbors, but Mrs. Dross knows about the pixies. She’ll be going to the pub to see mom this afternoon. I don’t think she’ll try anything against us, but I’ve been wrong before.”

Uriel waved an unconcerned hand in the air, smiling slightly.

“No need to be too wary about this. Pixies tend to be very picky about whom they revealed themselves too. That they did is already a big endorsement. You’ll also notice as your empathic abilities grows that’ll be increasingly harder to lie to you without you noticing, unless the other party is convinced of the veracity of their words.

So I’d start to trust my gut feelings more if I were you, now that you started growing up.”

Oh, goodie, more freaky stuff incoming. I just hoped I wouldn’t get bombarded with everyone’s emotions, that could become awkward very fast, not to mention dangerous if I needed to defend myself.

As I started piling up the dishes after our meal, mom stopped me.

“I’ll take care of this, you have some training to do. I want you as strong as possible.”

Reluctantly, I headed for the garden where Uriel was setting up one of his sound barrier. Mom would be organizing the refitting of the barn before work, since we needed it sooner rather than later.

Oh gods, my father was smirking. That was one expression I really didn’t like whenever it popped during training time. It usually meant not a small amount of bruising on my part.

“I have something a bit different from usual for you today, since Storm wanted to get himself back up in his peak condition.

From now on, you two will train and spar together, either against each other, or the two of you against me.

For now, why don’t you start running a bit to warm yourselves? The usual circuit, I’ll be waiting here for your return.”

Thus started the next step of my physical training. I might not become adept at melee combat anytime soon, but I was becoming very confident in my running away capabilities.

Storm’s fighting style was very different from my father’s. Where my father was a shadow, evading all hits by the barest of margins while flitting around counterattacking through all the openings provided by his quick movements, Storm was like a tank, taking a much more aggressive stance while directly blocking all moves directed at him.

Hitting him was like trying to take down a brick wall bare handed, with the added difficulty of his perfect ambidexterity.

Uriel and I used both hands too, but we still favored our right hands, whereas I couldn’t see any difference in Storm’s use of left or right hand.

Only things I had on him were speed and flexibility. I had always been quick, and it only improved under my father’s “tender” care. He was too, surprisingly so for such a big man, but to a lesser extent than me. It was definitely not enough to compete with his sheer resilience, added to his much, much more developed combat experience, as my poor bum could attest after yet another encounter with the ground when I failed a low feint.

In other circumstances I would have just ran circles around him while throwing stuff, but that would have nullified the purpose of today’s exercises, aka close combat, or at least surviving long enough to escape or get help in my case.

We were both drenched in sweat when my father decided to end today’s session.

“Enough for today. We’ll be going downtown this evening, I’ll be meeting my contact to retrieve Storm’s new identity, and we’ll try to get some materials without going through the easily traceable paths.

I can craft most weapons for us easily enough, but we might as well avoid questions when we can, French laws being so restrictive on weaponry of all kinds. Start thinking about what would be the best tools for you, considering you’ll want stuff easily hidden.”

When we went back into the house to shower and get changed, the new couch greeted us in the living room. We had been so focused on our training we didn’t even notice the delivery.

Mom had opted for a two part one. The couch itself was much bigger than our old one, with a bed in a drawer under it. We’d better not get another addition to the family again, or I really don’t know where we would put them with how much space was eaten by the new sofa.

It did lend a certain finality to Storm’s presence. It was not much of a personal space, but it was his.

I felt revived after a hot shower, ready to tackle the next part of the day, the always oh-so-fun confrontation with my step-uncle.

Hopping in some easy to move in jeans and my favorite black halter top, I bounded down the stairs after tying my hair in a loose bun.

Everybody was waiting for me in the living room, with expressions ranging from patient suffering to downright exasperation.

“Well, now that we’re all ready we can go, at last.”

The plan was to retrieve Kate from school, deliver her and mom to the pub, where Kate would go in the back rooms, then Uriel Storm and I would go meet my father’s contact.

We had expressly forbidden the imp to go outside alone, so I sent her a text message when we neared her school. Judging by the speed at which she appeared at the gates, she had been waiting for us. Mom hugged her when she entered the car.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Nothing new at school today, imp?”

“They want us to go to an excursion in a wastewater treatment plant at the end of the month. I’m not really interested, but apparently it will count in our evaluations.”

“Not good. We’ll have to try to get one of us in the accompanying adults team.”

Uriel tapped her scrunched nose lightly.

“Worst case scenario, Storm or me will follow behind to keep an eye on things.”

Still, it couldn’t have happened at a worst time. How annoying.

Charles was in an uproar when we delivered mom and the imp to the pub, arguing that Kate would be a distraction even from the backroom. Yeah, right, more like a distraction to him trying to ingratiate himself to mom.

My dear step-uncle, as shrewd of an administrator as he was, still hadn’t understood that trying to separate mom from her kids was the fastest way to make sure she never would be interested in him. He was not a bad man per se, but I was pissed at the fact that he was at least as interested in the half of the pub my mother owned than he was in wooing her for herself.

And since he knew I knew, our relationship was a bit on the chaotic side.

Besides he really wasn't up to the standards set by either Uriel, or even Dale. 

He was cunning rather than truly intelligent, self-serving, and had been mooching off the system before getting Dale's inheritance. Even his looks where worse than his brother's had been, they shared the average face, broad shoulders and green eyes, but where Dale had been a kind man, standing straight and proud, petty Charles was slouching over the start of a potbelly.

“ABBY! ARE YOU COMING TO HELP IN THE PUB TODAY?”

And that was the other thing I really didn’t like about him. He never missed a chance to remind me of my handicap. I scribbled on my notepad since he never bothered learning sign language.

“For the umpteenth time, I am mute, not deaf you oaf! And no, we’ll come get them back when we’re done with our stuff.”

He glared at Storm, probably figuring him a rival. Barking up the wrong tree there pal. The real rival is the inoffensive looking one.

“And who is this? I don’t think I've ever seen him.”

“This is Storm, Abby’s friend, and Uriel. Guys, this is Charles, Dale’s brother. Charles, they’ll be living with us for the foreseeable future, so you’ll be seeing more of each other’s. 

Storm is the one I told you about, he’ll be helping around the pub, mostly during weekends and as a replacement when someone’s sick.”

The men did the whole “I crush your hand while trying to look genial” business that comes with the testosterone poisoning, while mom gently pushed Kate towards the back rooms. I simply enjoyed the show, glad to not be Charles’ target for once.

Once the two were safely ensconced, we made good our escape before Mrs. Dross appearance, so as to not be tied up at the pub longer than necessary.

The place Uriel guided us to had definitely seen better day. It was one of those drinking holes complete with biker dudes that I thought only existed in movies. It was amazing that it had managed to go past the hygiene controls unless they bribed their way out of a shutting down.

Storm and I settled at a corner table nursing a beer I had absolutely no intention of drinking while my father went to talk to a wiry woman at the counter, certainly his contact.

It was a good thing Storm was here doing his best impersonation of a guard dog, and that he was big enough to intimidate the locals, or I wouldn’t have been able to follow inside. Apparently one of the conditions to get the papers had been for the woman to meet Storm, and Uriel hadn’t wanted to leave me at home.

After a short conversation, he escorted the woman to our table. She scrutinized Storm with a dazzling smile, thoroughly ignoring me.

“So, this is the one I made those beauties for. He’s even prettier than in his pictures Uri! Where did you find such a babe?”

“I picked him up in an alley.”

Technically true, I suppose, but that really made it seem like we picked up a stray cat.

“Ooooh, and here I only find old beer bottles in alleys, lucky you. Ah, I decided to change his name when I saw those eyes in the picture, hope you won’t mind.”

She bent over, sliding a bunch of papers across the table while giving the men a view of her meagre assets, along with what suspiciously resembled a cellphone number. That was why she wanted to meet Storm? So that she could try to pick him up? I squeezed his arm under the table when I saw his jaw tightening.

“The first number is mine, call me if you need anything. The second number is someone who might be able to provide the other stuff you wanted if the price is right.”

As she rose from our table, the argument from the pool table next to us that had been going for a while rose to new heights, culminating in the encounter between a cue stick and a bald pate. Said encounter ended in a draw, bald man going to sleep under a broken cue stick.

From this point on it degenerated in a general brawl in a blink, complete with flying beer bottles and drunken puking. We decided to hit the road before the police came, throwing money on the table for our beers.

Wire woman had already disappeared in the crowd as soon as the first hit connected. We weren’t as lucky, one of the drunk guys deciding Storm would be a good punching bag to prove his own worth to his colleagues in his ethylic deliriums.

The issue of that non-battle was never in question, though in the laps of time it took for Storm to lay down the guy his colleagues rushed Uriel and I.

It was a very pissed off Storm that uttered a growl worthy of the best predators. His eyes took a feral glint, the pupils elongating to catlike slits.

At this instant all the lights of the place exploded in a shower of broken glass, plunging the whole place in darkness, only the electric arcs silencing the sound systems with a banshee screech providing some meager visibility.

Tugging at his hand, I urged him outside in the wake of Uriel’s passage, using the confusion provided by his outburst, and Uriel’s hit and run tactics.

Outside, pandemonium greeted us, howling winds buffeting us in the midst of flying papers and leaves, while countless lightning bolts streaked the sky.

"Oh crap."