Half-Faerie Uncle Seeking Advice

So I finally arrived in the States and reached my sister’s house to be greeted by my charming, young niece, Danni.

Of course, her way of greeting me was to nearly break my knee. I suppose it was every so slightly my fault for getting there at an unusual hour of the night and setting off all the alarms, but I still feel as though I have been abused to an unnecessary degree.

It was not even my fault that I was late. I got a flight in to Dulles Airport that arrived at the timely hour of eight o’clock in the evening. That gave me just a forty minute drive to reach Amanda’s and Geoff’s house and be welcomed by my niece with open arms (or an efficiently executed round-kick. It really can go either way with her). Was I to blame that I received a call from a very distressed acquaintance of mine, begging me to help her hide a newly arrived friend from… out of town? Waaaay out of town?

I’m not here to facilitate refugees. That’s not my intent. I have rather larger issues to deal with. But I am also a bleeding heart for the suffering runaways of other worlds, apparently, because I said, Yes, and went on my merry way nearly an hour in the opposite direction from my niece’s house.

After helping Ms. X and her friend with the new IDs and a temporary bank account, passports, and tickets to an undisclosed location, I promptly turned around and headed back toward my original destination.

The darling girl forgot to turn of the blasted faerie alarms, so now I have a headache as well as jet lag and a sore knee. But I do have a sandwich, and what a sandwich it is…

I forgot. I was going to ask for advice. Well, here it is. My niece is a savvy child and she doesn’t let much get past her. If I am going to be involved in slightly less than legal dealings with a slightly other than natural clientele, how am I supposed to keep Danni from finding out? The girl is only sixteen, but she sees everything.

Teenagers are very inconvenient.