"What'll breakfast be today?" Daniel asked his shirtless reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Spanish or English?" A Spanish breakfast meant hot chocolate and sweet buns, while an English one would offer fried eggs, bacon, sausages, beans and toast.
       This morning, however, no chocolate, no eggs, no anything waited for him on the kitchen counter.
       He went back into the living room, where he kept the instructions the two old fairies had left for him regarding his invisible maid. He checked the calendar on his phone. No new Hello had come out, and he clearly remembered loading yesterday's Coronation Street episode onto the tablet before going to bed.
       Had he accidentally thanked his housekeeper? He'd been told never to do that.
       So, what had gone wrong?
       Maybe his behind-the-scenes assistant wanted something more. After taking this supernatural housesitting gig, he'd done his research, checking out Wikipedia and its recommended links to find out just what he was dealing with. Supposedly, the creature was called a brownie, and in the old stories, brownies liked milk fresh from a cow.
       He had no cow, but there were some vending machines throughout the city that sold fresh milk from local farms. As insurance against just such a situation, he kept a bottle in the fridge. He pulled it out and filled up a small glass as well as a saucer. He assumed the brownie would prefer a glass like a normal person, but the stories mentioned a saucer, and it was always better to be safe than sorry.
       He put both on the counter and turned to leave the kitchen. He'd only gone two steps when he was hit in the back with both the glass and the saucer. Cold milk splashed all over his bare back and dripped down into his sweatpants. Fortunately, given his bare feet, neither glass nor saucer shattered as they hit the floor.
       He spun around, but no one was there. "What did I do?"
       No one appeared, and no voice answered him.
       "Hello? Would you mind explaining things? I'd be happy to fix whatever I've done to offend you."
       Silence.
       With a sigh, he got a handful of paper towels and wiped the floor dry, then went off to have a shower.
       As the water washed away the remains of the milk, the reality of his situation came back to him. He hadn't thought about it much since signing his contract, but when it came down to it, he lived in a fantasy. Literally.
       He was watching the house of a pair of fairies who had gone back to the fairy world to get rid of the years living in the human world had heaped upon them. The ultimate anti-aging treatment. This was not a normal life. Not that he minded it. In fact, he loved the strangeness of it all most of the time, but it was in moments like this that he was reminded of how little he knew about this new world.
       Cleaned up, dried off and dressed, he went out for a coffee and croissant, grumbling at the injustice of it all.
       Halfway through his breakfast, he stopped muttering and started laughing at himself. How quickly he'd gotten used to the VIP treatment! Maybe the brownie was just having a bad day. He'd continue doing as he was told and perhaps toss in a nice big bar of chocolate.
       He filled the rest of the day in the normal way. He went to the gym for a couple of hours, chatted with some guys on his smartphone, but in the end didn't meet up with any of them, and finally got together with a friend for a movie and a bocadillo in one of his favorite restaurants near the cinemas in the Old Part of the city.
       On his way home, he crossed over the first of San Sebastian's many bridges and looked around for the Basque fairy that lived in the river below. The lamia, as she was called, could often be found brushing her long hair under one of the Art Deco streetlamps. When they'd first met, there'd been a major misunderstanding, but they seemed to have gotten past that and would have brief conversations about the state of the river or the mood of the sea. Tonight, however, the bridge was empty of both normal and supernatural beings.
       He was most of the way across when something caught his foot and he tripped. He had just managed to regain his balance without faceplanting when something grabbed his other foot, and he went down. His hands were in the pockets of his jacket so that he couldn't soften his fall with them. Instead, he twisted sideways, landing on his shoulder with a bone-shaking thud. As he went down, he thought he saw a small man scamper off, running lightly along the railing of the bridge, but then the pain in his shoulder took precedence.
       "What was that for?" he asked the air once he'd regained his breath.
       He pushed himself up with his good arm and rolled the sore one around, making sure it wasn't dislocated or anything, although he supposed he would have known by the pain if it had been. He had a feeling, however, that he'd have a good bruise there in the morning.
       Before going to bed, he popped some painkillers, which he later supposed were what caused the nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes, he dreamed he was falling off a cliff, off a ladder, off the top of a building. Each time, right at the moment of impact, he would wake up, his heart pounding.
       Eventually, he gave up and spent the rest of the night watching stupid YouTube videos on his laptop. Outside his room, he could hear bangs and bumps, but didn't dare get out of bed to find out what was going on. The fairies who owned the flat had warned him against exploring the place at night.
       Sure enough, the next day his shoulder throbbed and a bad mood pulsed in time with the pain. To make matters worse, not only was there no breakfast waiting for him, but the house was a disaster. Dust covered everything, and a mountain of dirty dishes waited for him in the kitchen.
       He did notice, however, that the chocolate he'd left alongside the Coronation Street-loaded tablet was gone.
       "Forget this," he muttered and left the house without even bothering to shower.
       He wasted the entire day puttering about the city, finally heading back to the flat just as night was falling.
       This time, as he was crossing the Kursaal bridge, the lamia was there, a secretive smile on her face. "Someone's in trouble," she said.
       "You know what's going on?"
       Her smile deepened, but she said nothing.
       "Okay, enough with the mysterious act. I'm not in the mood."
       "Why should I tell you when it's much more fun to hear about the way you're suffering? How's the shoulder by the way?"
       "It hurts, thanks for asking. What's so funny about me suffering?"
       "Your rejection of me hurt. Why shouldn't I enjoy seeing you hurt?"
       "Because it's not nice, or fair. You know that we were set up without any hope of it ending well."
       Human concepts of niceness and fairness didn't apply to fairies, but she was pissing him off. The fairies who had tried to hook him up with the lamia hadn't known women didn't do a thing for him.
       "You still hurt me."
       "Whatever. Look, if you have something to tell me, say it. If not, I'm going to go home and go to bed. It's been a long day, and I didn't sleep well last night."
       The lamia pouted, but didn't say anything else. With a flip of her long, luxurious hair, she slipped over the railing and dropped down into the churning waves below her.
       Daniel went over to the spot where she disappeared and peered into the darkness. "Have a good night yourself!" he shouted.
       Suddenly, something pulled his right foot out from under him and pushed it up, nearly tipping him over the railing.
       Daniel reacted with a speed he didn't know he had, throwing himself sideways to the left, this time coming down on his good shoulder with another painful thud.
       Again, as he fell, he caught a glimpse of a small man scampering away.
       He limped home and had a nice hot shower, feeling the bruised muscles relax under the pressure and heat, making him sleepy. Actual rest, however, eluded him. Once again, his dreams were full of falling. That, plus the banging coming from the rest of the apartment, succeeded in making it another sleepless night.
       At about three in the morning, he gave up and got out of bed. Screw the rules. Whoever was messing with him wasn't playing by them, so he wouldn't either. He pulled on some sweatpants, but didn't bother with a shirt. His shoulders had stiffened up too much for him to pull a t-shirt over his head.
       Letting his frustration, anger, and confusion fuel his confidence, he pulled open the door and stepped out into the hallway. The noises of someone uncleaning the apartment were coming from the kitchen, so he crept along the hallway and eased the door open.
       A small woman dressed all in brown flitted about the kitchen, tossing plates and smearing food from the fridge on the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling. So, his invisible helper wasn't that invisible after all. He supposed he should have been shocked to see a three-foot-tall woman with wood-brown skin and grass-like hair literally fly around the room, but honestly, he was too tired and pissed off.
       "What is wrong with you?" Daniel asked, shocked at such incredible behavior.
       The brownie spun around and, with a shriek, threw the eggs in her hand straight at Daniel's head.
       He pulled back in time so that they harmlessly broke against the now closed door. He opened it up a crack again. "Hey, calm down, all right? Can't we talk about it?"
       "No!" the brownie screamed at him. "You're making it worse."
       He pushed all the way into the kitchen. "Making what worse? How?"
       The brownie stopped and pointed at him. "With your sin. Flaunting that body at all hours around the place. It isn't right. It isn't proper."
       A fairy talking about sin? Weren't they against religion or something? "I'm sorry. I didn't know." He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around his chest. "Wait a second. What do you mean by flaunting my body at all hours? Don't you only come out at night?"
       The brownie answered by whipping another egg at his head.
       Again, he managed to avoid it. "Look, if I go put on a shirt, can we talk about it?"
       After a moment's thought, the brownie nodded. "Aye, but be quick about it."
       "Yes, ma'am."
       He half-trotted to the bedroom, grabbed a t-shirt at random and pulled it on, wincing at the pain in his shoulders as he did so, then returned to the kitchen. "Okay, let's talk," he said, dropping onto the only clean chair in the kitchen.
       The brownie perched on the edge of the sink and glared at him. "You call that decent?"
       Daniel looked down at himself. "I'm dressed, aren't I?"
       "With a second skin emphasizing your masculinity? Utterly naked, you'd be less provoking! Have you not seen the clothes I've left out for you?"
       She'd left him clothes to wear? Where? Oh! Those smock-like blouses on top of the washing machine? Did she really mean for him to wear those hideous things?
       The brownie turned to look out the window, her nose turned up and twitching as if the room was full of a noxious odor.
       Daniel bit down on a laugh. She was upset because he was too sexy? Was he making her all hot and bothered? Too funny! "I apologize for offending you with my body," he said. "I promise not to be so provocative in the future."
       He'd miss his tight t-shirts, but if it meant having peace again in the house, he'd do it. At least while at home. What he did outside the flat was his business.
       "Too late," the brownie muttered. "It's too late."
       Daniel heard a flutter in her voice. The poor thing was close to tears. He got up and made his way over to the sink, where he patted her on the shoulder with a gentle touch.
       She spun away from him as if his fingers burned. "What are you doing? Do you want us both dead?"
       She slid along the counter and, in a leap, perched on top of the cupboard in the corner. "Get out!" she hissed. "If you value your life, you'll get out of here and start wearing decent clothing."
       More confused than ever, Daniel backed out of the kitchen, not taking his eyes off the obviously insane brownie.
       Over the next few days, it appeared that they had reached some sort of truce. While inside the house, Daniel wore the pathetic smock-tops, and the brownie cleaned up the mess, but she didn't make him breakfast and made him clean his own dishes.
       Outside the flat, however, something -- or someone -- had targeted him for attack. No matter how careful he was, he kept tripping over everything. To a casual observer, Daniel was sure he appeared drunk all the time, and his friends even commented on his newfound clumsiness.
       After three days of more banged-up limbs and a nearly sprained ankle, he went to talk to the only other fairy he knew. His all-over bruise might amuse the lamia, but he had nowhere else to go. The brownie refused to appear to him, no matter what time of night he tried to catch her.
       As if having read his thoughts, the lamia was alone on the bridge, brushing her long hair as usual, her perfect breasts on display for the whole world to see.
       Averting his eyes from them, he understood why tight t-shirts might bother the brownie. Even without any interest in women, the lamia's bare chest was a major distraction from normal conversation. "Can't you cover those up or something?" he said by way of greeting.
       "I could." She made no move to do so, however.
       "Whatever." He looked at a point in the distance, slightly to the left of the lamia's head, blocking out the view of her body. "You know what's going on, and I'm sick of falling so much. Don't you think I've suffered enough? Don't you feel vindicated?"
       "It always comes down to love," the lamia said after making him suffer a bit more in silence.
       "The brownie is in love with me?"
       The lamia barked out a surprisingly unladylike laugh. "Not in a million years. She's in love with someone else."
       Daniel waited for her to go on, but when she didn't, he realized he was supposed to work it out on his own. Stupid fairies and their mysterious ways. "Does that mean someone else loves her?"
       The lamia said nothing, but her eyes widened a fraction. He took that as a yes.
       "Is that someone a small man about half my height?"
       A small nod this time.
       The little man he'd seen after the first two times he'd been attacked. "What is he? Another British import?"
       "No, he's from here. An iratxo. Foul-tempered things."
       "You mean I'm being attacked by a jealous boyfriend?"
       A big, malicious smile appeared on the lamia's face.
       "What the hell? Are you all psychotics or what? I'm being hounded by a series of accidents that may end up killing me, and have had a whole bunch of domestic items thrown at me."
       The lamia laughed again, and Daniel decided he didn't like it. She almost sounded like a seal barking at him. "Don't judge us like humans, boy. We are immortal creatures for the most part. Sometimes, it's only emotion, strong emotion, that gets us through the endless routine of sunrise and sunset. But go ahead and try to talk to him with reason. Show him that you're no worry. Don't, however, expect it to work. Iratxos are a bit old-fashioned. He might not understand your preferences. Nor believe them."
       "Could you maybe talk to him?"
       The lamia made a disgusted face. "Me? Talk to him? You're joking, right?"
       "Why not?"
       "Because he's atrociously ugly! Besides, he might get the wrong idea."
       "Oh bollocks! Nevermind. I'll do it myself. Good night." He stomped off, not waiting for the lamia to reply.
       As soon as he walked into the flat, he started yelling for the brownie. "Oi! Little lady! You and I need to talk. Now."
       When she didn't appear right away, he went into the kitchen and called for her again. "Just come out, so that we can talk like normal people, okay?"
       The irony of calling her a normal person wasn't lost on him, but he didn't correct himself.
       After what felt like an eternity but was probably only three minutes, the brownie appeared, perched on the edge of the counter.
       It was the first time anyone had just popped into existence in front of and Daniel all of a sudden found his lungs empty of air. He forced himself to inhale through his nose and took a few deep breaths. Now was not a good time to freak out. "Can you call your boyfriend here as well? He needs to hear this, too."
       The brownie shook her head. "You don't want him here."
       "Look." Daniel dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. "I'm tired of all this, and I'm sure you are, too. We both know that I have no interest in you. And if you're all sweet on a short little old man, I'm not likely even your type. The only one who doesn't seem convinced of that is your boyfriend, so let's get him here and clear up any misconceptions."
       The brownie shook her head vehemently.
       "Oh, for the love of-- If you won't do it, I will!"
       He stood up and tilted his head up to the ceiling. "Hey, Mr. Iratxo! Stop with the hiding and the sneak attacks. If you have a problem with me, man up and show yourself."
       The brownie squeaked and vanished.
       "Coward," Daniel muttered.
       She must have heard him from wherever she was because she reappeared directly in front of him, her feet firmly planted on the table. "I am no coward!" she snapped at him and stamped her right foot, the wooden heel of her boot clacking against the tabletop.
       "You're going to ruin the finish on the table if you do that again," Daniel commented.
       The brownie glowered at him.
       "Now, can we get this over with? Please?"
       The brownie turned her back on him, crossing her arms.
       "Sulk all you want. I'm not leaving this room until your boyfriend shows up and we clear up the misunderstanding."
       "You're going to regret it," she said to the wall.
       "Whatever. Just get him here, all right?"
       The only warning of the attack was the sound of the brownie snapping her fingers before he found himself facing a bright-colored bird swooping down at him, breathing fire.
       With a yelp, he dove out of the kitchen. The bird, however, didn't need to follow him. Instead, it appeared in front of him again, forcing Daniel to swerve left.
       The bird herded him to the French doors that opened up to the apartment's front balcony. The doors opened on their own, and the flaming bird pushed Daniel outside, where it finally landed and transformed into the little old man Daniel had seen after the first two attacks. "No one steals my girl from me!"
       The iratxo advanced, and Daniel retreated until his back was against the railing.
       "I haven't stolen anyone's girl. I don't even like them!" Daniel shouted back.
       "Of course you do! She's the prettiest lass in the world."
       Daniel choked on a shocked laugh. While the brownie wasn't as ugly as the little man in front of him, she wasn't what he'd call pretty, not by a long shot. Wisely, he kept that opinion to himself. "It wouldn't matter if she was Beyoncé herself. I don't like girls."
       The iratxo paused in his advance. "Are you a priest? You don't dress like a priest."
       Daniel bit off another laugh. A priest? Him? Too funny! "No, women simply don't interest me. I prefer men."
       "Liar! Such a thing is impossible!" The iratxo leapt up onto Daniel's chest and pushed until Daniel was half-bent backwards over the edge of the railing.
       All the dreams of falling came back to him. Except this time, if he fell, he wouldn't wake up before landing. "I can prove it!" Daniel gasped, trying to put his imminent death out of his thoughts. "It's not just possible, but common. The city is full of guys like me. Believe me!"
       The iratxo shifted to the railing but kept a surprisingly strong hand on Daniel's chest, whose feet pulled up off the floor.
       He tried not to start screaming. Calm. He had to keep calm. "If you'd just let me get to my phone, I'll show you."
       The iratxo applied a bit more pressure, and Daniel's feet came completely off the ground.
       "Please!"
       The little man nodded.
       With extreme care, Daniel reached into his left-hand jeans pocket for his phone. He lifted it just enough to see the screen, but not enough to maybe tip the balance and send him falling to his death. A couple of taps with his thumb, and he opened one of the many cruising apps on his phone. The screen filled up with tiny images of men in various stages of undress. He tapped the icon of his own picture, pulling up his profile. "Here! Look! Read what it says."
       He held up the phone to the iratxo, who took it with his free hand. The old man took it and squinted at the screen. Daniel suddenly feared that the iratxo couldn't read.
       "What does this mean? 'Looking for a good time with one or more guys'?"
       Phew! He could. "What do you think?"
       The little man's face screwed up in disgust. "But that's not natural."
       Great, the fairy was a homophobe as well as a jealous psychotic. "Yes, it is. As natural as being human."
       The pressure on Daniel's chest relaxed, and his feet touched the tiles on the balcony floor again. He let out a sigh of relief, but the irtaxo still hadn't let him go. "Now do you believe me? Maybe you could let me straighten up. My back is beginning to hurt a bit. All right?"
       The iratxo ignored him. Showing surprising adeptness with the workings of a smartphone, the little man flicked through the different profiles, his eyes widening when he came across a particularly explicit photo or description.
       Finally, he dropped down off the railing, his hand still gripping Daniel's shirt.
       Unable to stop himself, Daniel fell onto the iratxo, who pushed him to one side.
       "Don't get any ideas, you craven beast!"
       Daniel grimaced as he sat up. As if! "I know you're taken. Don't worry. May I have my phone, please?"
       The iratxo handed it back.
       "So, we're good?" Daniel asked. "You believe that I won't steal your girlfriend from you?"
       With a grunt, the little man turned away and wandered back into the apartment, muttering to himself something about never understanding humans.
       Safe and sound with the threat of death or more sneak attacks seemingly behind him, Daniel allowed himself a single sob before pushing himself up. He had escaped death by a hair.
       If what the lamia had told him about getting off on intense emotions was true, he was probably going to face this type of thing a lot more.
       For the first time since taking the housesitting gig, it occurred to him that getting mixed up with fairies might not have been the wisest decision in his life.