“Yes.”
I glanced back to the burial markers. “I’m sorry.”
“Why would you apologize?”
I shrugged. “Death is never easy.”
“They died a very long time ago,” Dunham said.
Viviane escorted Caelum into the office.
How did she get out there?
“Hey, uh, sis. I wasn’t expecting you,” Caelum said.
“Mister Heffernan was just telling me about his artifacts while I waited.”
Caelum turned to his boss. “I’m sorry I’m late, sir. Cliff in accounting stopped me to talk about some numbers.”
Dunham gestured. “Entertaining the young lady was most distracting.”
“If you’ll give me a moment to see her on her way, I’m all yours.” Caelum crossed the office to me, eyes sweeping the burial wall. He lowered his voice. “What’s going on?”
“I need your help,” I whispered.
“I’m a little busy here.”
“Fine, just tell me where to find the...,” I glanced at Dunham. “...where to find the Market and I’ll leave.”
Caelum stiffened. “No.”
I pressed my lips together.
He’s not going to tell me openly? Vitae convince him I’m useless too?
I forced a smile and strode toward the exit. “Thank you for your time and hospitality, Mister Heffernan.”
Dunham smiled. “We’ll see you at our upcoming picnic I hope?”
“I did invite her,” Caelum said.
“Good. Viviane will see you out.”
I fell into step behind Viviane.
“Oh, Quayla, I never answered your original question.” Dunham gestured to the burial markers. “I brought them over from their original resting place in Essex.”
A sudden blizzard submerged me in ice. I glanced at the Wheel. A tenuous word fought its way free of my lips. “When?”
“They died in 1863.”
The world spun around me. Emotions threw me up and down, left and right as if I were on the Batman ride at Six Flags. I held onto my composure with white-knuckled intensity and tried to reason my way off the rollercoaster.
Plenty of people died that year in Essex. This has nothing to do with Headingham.
I glanced toward Caelum. My fellow shield watched me with intense interest.
“Th-thank you again.” I fled.
13: Seeking Answers
Ignis
Ignis walked up the apartment building’s stairs. He hadn’t followed immediately after the woman from the humane society. There wasn’t any need. The likelihood that two Fae Kissed lived in the building to confuse the trail seemed pretty slim.
He entered the foyer, opening his senses. The taint from her lingered, concentrated at a bank of mailboxes before trailing to the elevator. Ignis strolled past the mailboxes, his gaze shifting to note the apartment number when the taint concentrated.
He crossed to an ashtray next to the building’s entrance, pushed a finger deep under the sand and extruded a seed of essence. Rather than ride an elevator car filled with nauseating taint, he climbed the plain concrete stairs. The seed would warn him if she left before he reached her apartment.
Quayla had related her suspicions that the wafer had drawn the runes to open the Arch in exchange for her cat’s life. She’d later recanted her theory, but something about the tone of the message felt wrong, making the duty before him more than a little unpleasant.
I can’t imagine how sad must a person’s life be that they’d sell their soul for a cat, but it’s just the kind of sob story that would break Quayla’s heart.
The taint concentrated on the door which matched the mailbox. A cat’s low growl escaped beneath the door.
A sugary, high-pitched woman’s voice followed from deeper in the apartment. “Bootsie? What’s wrong, baby?”
Ignis knocked.
“Just a minute.”
Ignis took a deep breath, settling on a story to gain entry.
A woman’s face appeared beneath the door chain, her head topping out at five feet. “Can I help you?”
That she’d opened the door, even chained, rather than using the peephole spoke to the safety of the neighborhood. The wash of taint confirmed that the woman before him was potentially the most dangerous person in the building.
Ignis produced his badge. “Ignis Round, I’d like to ask you a few questions about the break-in at the humane society.”
“Which one?”
“Howell Mill,” Ignis said.
“No, the first break-in or the second?”
“The first,” Ignis said.
“Well, I already told the cops everything I know about that horrible woman.”
“Sometimes witnesses remember things after the fact. May I come in?”
“I suppose.” She pushed the door closed and opened it again once the chain had been moved out of the track. “Come on in.”
Ignis entered. The apartment had been set up to cater to the cat he’d seen in the humane society picture.
An angry hiss preceded an orange rocket streaking across the room. Ignis pushed the door shut hard. The cat stopped, looked daggers at Ignis and growled.
“It’s all right, Bootsie,” She pushed hair from her face. “Sorry, Mister Round, Bootsie, um, doesn’t like people.”
“I understand.”
“Would you like to sit?”
“No, thank you.”
The woman scooped up her cat and sat in a chair—her upper half nearly disappearing completely behind the mammoth feline. “I haven’t remembered anything new. What did you want to ask?”
“I want to know where you learned about the faeries that made a bargain with you in exchange for your cat’s life.”
All color washed out of the woman’s already pale complexion.
The cat bristled.
“H-how, w-what are you talking about?”
“The animal in your arms isn’t Bootsie. It’s a faerie inhabiting the body of your cat.”
Bootsie hissed.
She hugged the cat closer to her. “N-no, that’s not right. I’ve had Bootsie since I was twelve. I don’t know who you are, but I don’t want you here anymore.”
Ignis closed the distance, towering over the pair. “You drew marks on the kennel floor. You let the faeries inside. You’re the reason so many animals died.”
Bootsie struggled harder to get away as the woman’s grip tightened. She wiped tumbling tears off in the cat’s fur. “I-no. It was th-that woman. The one who broke in.”
“She was there to stop the faeries. Tell me the faerie’s name that offered you the deal and anything you know about their actions and intentions?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just leave us alone.”
Bootsie wriggled free and leapt away from Ignis and the woman.
Ignis sprang over a loveseat and snatched the cat up by the scruff of its neck. It twisted and curled, hissing and turning to slash Ignis with its claws.
The woman was on her feet. “Let him go. He doesn’t like that.”
Ignis whirled. “This is not your cat. Your cat died, didn’t he?”
Her hard expression disintegrated. Her head fell forward, bob haircut curtaining her sobs as she nodded.
“Now that you’ve admitted he died, I ask you to willingly surrender him as recompense for what you’ve done.”
“No!” She bolted forward and wrenched the cat out of Ignis’s hand. “I love him.”
“You loved Bootsie, not this thing.”
“Get out. I don’t want you here.”
Ignis softened his tone. “If you aren’t willing to surrender him, there is nothing more I can do to help you.”
“I won’t.” She turned her back, shielding the cat from Ignis. “Not ever.”
“You’ve obviously got a loving heart. Yours was a good and gentle soul, but you traded it away and the countless animal lives for this travesty of Creation. I want to help you, but you have t
o give up the cat.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Please, let it go.”
Her head shook back and forth, silent except for soft sobs.
So be it.
Ignis gathered his essence.
The cat went wild, howling, hissing and clawing at his owner. She struggled to keep a grip as if letting him go might cause her to lose him forever.
Ignis wrapped white hot wings around them and released his essence into them in a swirling firestorm. When nothing but ashes remained, he swept his wings once to spread the ashes through the apartment and transformed back to his human form. He looked down at the singed carpet.
She refused to repent. I hate it, but she left me no choice.
He turned to go, burning flesh and taint still thick in his nostril. He intensified his essence to burn away the smell, but when he reverted his essence to flesh the scent of faerie magic remained.
Ignis crossed to the breakfast bar. A tree mug supporting a ‘free collars’ sign held several dozen cat collars. Several others lay on their surface next to a glue gun, containers of glitter and a pile of fake gems. Ignis’s nose itched.
He picked up a gem to find a mote of faerie essence hidden inside behind a thin layer of crafting glue. He exchanged the gem for one of the glitter decorated collars. The runes for a leech spell and several other incomplete marks scrawled around the collar’s circumference.
Not so innocent after all.
Ignis cursed inwardly. He’d cremated Bootsie and its collar. There wasn’t any way to tell after the fact if Bootie’s collar had sported runes meant to catch the life leeched away from other animals by the partially finished collars.
He incinerated the lot.
Caelum
Caelum frowned at the closed door.
“She looked troubled,” Dunham said. “I hope it wasn’t anything I said.”
“What? Oh, no, sir. She asked to borrow something valuable, and I told her no.” Caelum turned back to the burial marker, hiding his uneasy expression by virtue of turning his back on Dunham. “You said this is from 1863?”
“Yes, why?”
Caelum frowned at the stonework. “The construction style is much older than that, possibly going back to Roman times.”
Dunham brightened. “Are you a student of history, Caelum?”
Caelum chuckled. “Got a grumpy old teacher who always tried to shove that kind of stuff in my head despite my insistence no one needed to know such things anymore.”
Dunham sucked his lip. “Need, no, but such knowledge offers us a glimpse into lives most can only imagine.”
“Do you know how they all drowned?” Caelum asked.
“Your teacher was very thorough.”
Caelum imitated Vitae. “Life is history reborn.”
Dunham chuckled.
“So, what can I do for you, sir?”
“I keep an eye out for special talents. Most of my employees are out for an easy buck, looking for a way to get ahead through sidestepping work or rolling busses over their team members. You’re a hard worker, the kind of employee I’d like to work alongside more closely—maybe see how you handle a crisis.”
“With humor—some of it good, but I always battle through.”
“Would you be amenable to travel?” Dunham asked.
Caelum frowned. “I’m afraid not. Fear of flying.”
Dunham’s brow rose.
“Nobody’s perfect.” Caelum shrugged.
“Very well, we could arrange for a private car to take you places.”
“I can’t be away for long. I have a practically ancient relative that nearly strokes out every time I even talk about going too far away.”
“You’re making it difficult to promote you,” Dunham said. “Couldn’t Quayla look in on this relative?”
“They don’t get along.”
He’s going to promote me? To what?
Caelum looked around the office.
Too bad there’s no way Vitae would allow me more job responsibility, let alone travel.
Viviane entered. She glanced at Caelum, peering into his eyes with an apprehension possibly connected to Caelum’s proximity to the very expensive wall. “Your next appointment is here if you’re finished.”
“We haven’t gotten as far as I’d have liked. Please reschedule Mister Kite for another visit.” Dunham gestured Caelum toward the door. “Let’s both take time to think of ways to achieve all we desire, and we’ll meet up again to discuss our options.”
Caelum let himself be led from the office, glancing back at the death mural. Dunham shook Caelum’s hand once more. The CEO greeted his next appointment with handshakes and smiles. He disappeared with them back inside his office.
That’s one incredible boss.
Caelum cursed under his breath.
I’ve got to catch Quayla before she gets herself killed...again.
The elevator took Caelum down to his office. He stopped opposite his very attractive assistant. “I’ve got an appointment with a perspective investor. I’ll be back late.”
She tapped her keyboard a few times. “I don’t see an appointment.”
“Last minute.” Caelum hurried back to the elevator, lamenting that his assistant’s value prevented him from including her in his series of lovers. There was something about her far beyond her outward appearance that convinced him they’d share a lot of fun before his real life forced him to let her down gently.
That’s where Quayla makes her mistake. She’s looking for happily ever after. Even if everything goes without a hitch, it still ends.
The elevator dropped Caelum in the lobby. He stepped into the foyer and lifted his nose. The scent of fresh coffee called him like a siren of the deep, but he abandoned his pleasures to chase Quayla’s scent. At the parking garage, he declined to track her up to wherever she parked, circling instead to the complex exit.
Quayla’s little white Jahammer eased into view.
He waved her down.
She glared at him over her handlebars. He held up one finger and crossed to the first floor motorcycle parking. He checked to make sure his black case was still in the bike’s saddle bags and slid his motorcycle up next to Quayla’s electric jelly bean.
“I thought you weren’t going to help me,” she said tartly.
“You’d have gone anyway,” he said.
“You’re damned right I would have.”
“I’m here to keep you from dying again.”
“Damn it, Caelum, I’m as capable as you or the others.”
“Maybe, but why chance letting Vitae lecture you again?”
A horn honked behind them.
“Where are we going?”
“Head to headquarters. We’ll hoof it from there.”
Quayla’s eyes widened. “The Goblin Market set up right under our noses?”
Caelum smiled. “Not exactly.”
Quayla
Caelum and I dismounted in front of a maintenance closet in sight of the elevator up to our Shield. He produced a key and let us in to a tiny room clogged with brooms, garbage cans and other detritus.
I frowned.
Caelum flashed me a smile and picked his way through the mess—feet never touching the floor. He pushed on a section of upper molding. A spring mechanism pushed out a short strip. Caelum pulled the disguised lever down. Clacks and clunks preceded the wall sliding out of view to reveal a small room stocked for launching a tactical assault.
“Caelum, why—”
He flashed me a grin and held up three fingers in a Boy Scout salute. “I solemnly swear—no...ah! Be prepared.”
Caelum picked up a collapsible hand truck, yanked a lever inside the room and exited as the doors closed behind him. He cherry-picked his way out of the mess and closed the doors. “Come on.”
“Where are we headed?”
“Georgia World Congress Center...more or less.”
The afternoon air pressed against us. Unwelcome humidity wrapped the heat around us like a damp elec
tric blanket. Caelum swirled a breeze across his face.
I lifted my brows. “Do you know how Vitae would react if he saw you do that?”
Caelum adjusted his voice into an eerie imitation of Vitae. “You are a shield, created with a duty. That duty does not afford you the right to waste your essence on something as insignificant as personal comfort. I expect you to grow up and have a stick surgically inserted in your buttocks this instant.”
I laughed. “That last sentence was a bit off.”
“I got the gist.” Caelum smiled. “Besides, it made you laugh. Things back to normal with Dylan?”
“Yeah.” Memory of his fingers exploring my new body birthed a smile. I chuckled. “He asked me to marry him.”
Caelum’s brows rose. “Really? What did you say?”
“I didn’t, really. He thought marriage would free me from being a shield, like I’m here on a work visa or something.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Caelum said.
“That’s what I told him.”
Caelum’s expression became distant, and we marched across Atlanta in silence. After my early morning and exhausting day, the heat combined to make our walk tougher than I expected. Even though perspiration was a waste of my essence, I allowed a light sweat to exit my exposed flesh. Caelum shifted his breeze to include me and turned us down a side street.
“That’s the only problem with motorcycles,” Caelum lamented. “No storage.”
“I have some space.” I eyed the cart. “How much do we need?”
“More than we could’ve moved on my bike and your little toy.”
“Hey, my Jahammer has as much horsepower as your bike.”
Caelum snorted.
“Be nice to my baby.”
“Thanks, I’m good.”
I punched the arm carrying the cart. “Take it back.”
“If you insist.” Caelum’s wind withdrew from me as he moved the cart into his other hand. “I love the wind on my face, even if I have to provide it myself.”
“Can you imagine if we could just fly whenever we wanted?”
Ashes of Raging Water Page 13
