The Innocence of Death

by E G Stone

  “Old…bat? Vampires do not turn into bats, they disappear into shadow…Oh, your old human master,” Yolanda said, smiling.

  I winced. “That’s not quite how I would label my relationship with Old lady Harcourt. You know what? Maybe we should save that conversation for another time. When we’re not in the middle of solving an impossible murder.“

  Yolanda nodded sagely, like she had a complete understanding of the universe. “It’s not an impossible murder, since it happened.”

  “I meant that Death wasn’t…you know what? Never mind.” I took another sip of my coffee and Yolanda stared at the salt shaker longingly. After a moment or two of silence, she reached out and grabbed the folder, sifting through it.

  “After we give her the file, then what?”

  “Well, I really want to go talk to that Rousseau character,” I said. “I have a feeling that he’s involved in this up to his neck.”

  We finished breakfast—by which I mean I finished breakfast and Yolanda continued to stare longingly at the salt and the buffet. Then, we went off to drop the file off with Chief Wilkerson. She glared at me the whole time I was in her office, but promised not to share the information beyond her. I had a feeling that Janos would be surreptitiously handed the file sometime within the hour after we left. It wasn’t my problem, though, so I didn’t really care. If they wanted to investigate something way beyond their understanding, then I sympathised and also wanted to be far, far away when they did. So Yolanda and I rented a car and searched for Marcus Rousseau’s import-export business with my mysterious new phone, happily leaving the police behind before they could assign someone to work with us.

  We found Marcus Rousseau in one of those industrial warehouse office-parks, where the rent is cheap and your average person isn’t going to wander in out of curiosity. There were a few planters around filled with a few tiny pine trees and holly bushes, which made the whole area seem even more desolate and sad than otherwise. It was like trying to dress up a dead man by putting on a bowtie.

  The offices of Marcus Rousseau required that we be buzzed in, which was an encouraging sign for illegal activity, I thought. I leaned on the buzzer until the door clicked and smiled at Yolanda. “Let’s see what Mr. Rousseau has to hide, shall we?”

  I stepped in to find myself being glared at by a small, paunchy man with his arms crossed over his belly. He wore colourful clothes of very fine make and had an abundance of dark, well-trimmed hair. “Mr. Rousseau has nothing to hide,” he said in something approximating a sneer. “As I’m sure you’ll find out.”

  “Ah, Mr. Rousseau, I presume,” I said, holding out my hand. The man’s mouth tightened into a thin line and he didn’t shake my hand.

  “Who are you people? Cops?” he asked. I looked back at Yolanda, who was looming in the doorway, her human image looking almost as intimidating as her troll one. She shrugged.

  “We represent another party,” I said slowly, putting my hands in my pockets and taking a casual look around the offices. They were sparse, but well put together. I had half expected priceless antiques to be strewn about here and there. I suppose you don’t make that sort of illegal business obvious, though. I needed to stop watching so many movies.

  “What do you want?” Rousseau waddled over to a leather chair and sat down, the seat exhaling air in a whoosh. “If you’re shipping, then I’ll need all the proper forms and—”

  “We’re here about Magnus,” Yolanda supplied. She moved away from the door and sat in one of the tiny chairs opposite Rousseau’s desk. It creaked ominously under her weight. Rousseau let out a sigh, one of those that practically screams of great exasperation. He put his fingers to his temple and started massaging.

  “What’s he done now?” Rousseau asked wearily.

  “Gone and gotten himself killed,” I said. Rousseau blinked and leaned back in his chair. So he hadn’t known Magnus was dead. That meant that either Rousseau’s contacts from Elsewhere hadn’t bothered to tell him, or that he wasn’t involved. I hoped it was the former. I’d really love to be done with this investigation.

  “Huh,” Rousseau huffed out a bit of air. “Well. The man finally went off and messed with the wrong person.”

  “Why would you say that?” I asked, leaning forwards to show my very keen interest. Rousseau just gave me a look like I wasn’t worth his time. “I take it that Magnus was often, ah, involved in trouble?”

  “Like fish and water,” Rousseau confirmed. “That man was always on one side of the law or the other. He drew cops and then promptly mucked the trail so they had to go somewhere else. I always knew he was going to get it, one of these days. He always swore he’d retire with millions.”

  “And were you ever involved in Magnus’ escapades?” I asked carefully. Apparently I wasn’t careful enough. Rousseau sat up straight and narrowed his eyes.

  “Now, I thought you weren’t cops,” he said in a low voice.

  “We’re not,” Yolanda assured him with a smile that was possibly too eager. I smothered a wince.

  “Oh, then who’s this other party you represent?” Rousseau asked. He reached into one of the drawers in the desk, his hand disappearing at the same time a scowl rose on his features and I knew that the polite conversation was over.

  “We’re trying to figure out who killed him,” I said. “But you’re going to claim to know nothing about that. And I’d believe you, if I hadn’t known what killed him. So tell me, Rousseau, who controls your, ah, Elsewhere assets?”

  Rousseau drew his brows together, “Sorry. My what?”

  “You know, the things that you can’t exactly store here in the mortal realms? Do you supply the vamps with their blood? Or perhaps some salt for the rock trolls? Maybe even send out whatever ritual elements the Order wants in the mortal realms for ‘keeping the balance’.”

  “You’re making no sense,” Rousseau said. He pulled his hand out from the drawer and—you guessed it—was pointing a gun in my direction. “I suggest you take your babbling somewhere else, okay?”

  “Yolanda, would you mind providing some visual aid?” I asked. She frowned and fumbled with the amulet around her neck.

  “Do I have to?” she complained. “I hate it when they go and scream and shout and everything. Why can’t you do it?”

  “Because that requires he shoot me fatally,” I countered. “And given the way his hands are shaking, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  Yolanda scowled. “Fine.” She tore the amulet over her head and dropped it in my hand. “Happy?”

  The human image flickered and went out and in its place was the troll. I was used to her by now, but Rousseau started screaming. He pushed backwards from his desk fast enough that the chair fell over. Rousseau scrabbled to a far corner and kept screaming. I handed the amulet back to Yolanda and she slipped it over her head faster than I could sneeze.

  Rousseau stopped screaming and instead started to whimper. “I don’t know who you are,” he said, voice trembling. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  “Hurt you?” Yolanda looked taken aback. “We are not here to hurt you.”

  “What do you want? Please don’t kill me. I’ll do whatever you say.” Rousseau started to sob. Great heaving breaths tore through him and he pushed as far into his corner as possible.

  I crouched down to look him straight in the eye, a little concerned at his reaction. “We just want to know what Magnus was into.”

  “Yes, alright!” Rousseau cried, starting to hiccough. “I smuggled some jewels for him. Nothing big, nothing notorious. Just the individual pieces that he couldn’t get out of the country any other way. But I didn’t ask where he got them and I never wanted to know where they ended up. That was all!”

  I exchanged a glance with Yolanda. She was shifting her weight back and forth and clutching the amulet tightly. I stood up, pushing my glasses up my nose. “Ah, thank you for your time.”

  Rousseau let out a sound somewhere between relief and horror as Yolanda and I turned awa
y. I had the feeling I was going to be hearing that sound for a while yet. We stepped into the sun and walked around the industrial park for a minute.

  “Does everybody react that way to things from Elsewhere?” I asked, kicking a pebble.

  Yolanda looked at her feet and shook her head. “No. Most of the immortal beings are predators. They create appealing images to lure their prey in. People only start screaming when it’s us ugly creatures, or when the beautiful ones start to kill you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I never wanted you to…you know. I thought that he would have known and…sorry.”

  “Trolls are used to it,” Yolanda replied just as quietly. “We are taught from a young age that we will never be beautiful. The only solution is to be strong, tough. Brutal. That’s why you don’t hear many good stories about trolls. Just the ones where they come in and tear things limb from limb.”

  “You’re not like that,” I said firmly, putting my hand on her arm.

  “There is a reason why I work as a menial servant for Death,” Yolanda said. “I cannot return to the Troll Kingdom. It would mean my death.”

  “He saved you,” I murmured. Yolanda nodded. I chuckled a bit. “He seems to have a habit of doing that. Caught me just as I was going to be shot.”

  “I was about to be thrown off a cliff,” Yolanda said, a trace of teasing in her voice. I responded with a half smile and kicked another pebble.

  “You win.”

  “Huzzah,” she said. “Now what?”

  “Well, obviously Rousseau had no idea of any supernatural influences in Magnus’ life. Or if he did, then they were doing a very good job at pretending to be human.”

  “Many predators can do that,” Yolanda said. I scowled.

  “Not helping. If Magnus had any supernatural, magical, Elsewhere involvement, then I would have sworn Rousseau would have been it. And it just doesn’t make sense for him to have no involvement or connection to Elsewhere. How else would someone have known about his relationship with Life enough to have bothered to kill him? No, I think we need to have a chat with the girlfriend,” I said. “Maybe she knew more about Magnus’ life than the average partner.”

  “How do we find her?” Yolanda asked. I was about to answer with some snarky, ‘I don’t know’ response when a car sped into the industrial park and stopped just before Rousseau’s building. A woman stepped out and I nearly dropped my jaw to the ground in pure shock.

  She was beautiful. Stunning. The sort to stop traffic as she walked by, or cause accidents. Her skin was that pale shade that reminded you of milk, but was too creamy to be quite that dull. Her limbs were long and lithe and she had curves that spoke more of power and ancient glory than stick-thin models. Her red hair was bound back in some sort of messy bun that showed off a slender neck and classically sculpted features.

  In short, this woman was almost too beautiful to believe. And I was pretty sure that the license plate of the car she was driving was the one registered to Alice Nuberg. Well that was convenient!

  “Immortal beastie?” I asked Yolanda, pointing to the too-good-to-be-true woman. The troll let out a breath through her nose and nodded.

  “Immortal beastie,” she agreed.

  “Right, then, let’s go say hello to Magnus’ girlfriend.”

  I broke into a jog and got to Alice Nuberg before she could open the door to Rousseau’s. “Good morning, Ms. Nuberg. It is Ms. Nuberg, isn’t it?”

  Alice froze with preternatural stillness, her chocolate brown eyes taking me in. She probably realised I was human, because she smiled, laying on the charm a bit too thickly. “Yes? How can I help you this morning,” she purred.

  “Well, actually, we’d like to know exactly how you got involved with Magnus,” I said. “And we’d really like to know who it was that you helped to kill him.”

  Alice’s eyes burned away the chocolate brown into a poisonous green and she let out a shriek that could have shattered ear drums. It certainly shattered the glass of her car. Luckily for me, Yolanda had reactions fast enough to clamp her hands over my ears. She seemed unaffected by the noise, except to glare and snarl.

  “Troll,” Alice said, glaring sharply up at Yolanda, whose image flickered with the after effects of whatever that screech had been. My glasses, unfortunately, were cracked on both lenses, which didn’t really help me see how badly the situation was deteriorating. I could see enough, though, to watch Alice take a step back. Some sort of shimmer appeared at her back and Alice curled her fingers into talons. Yolanda reached out and grabbed her arm before whatever was going to happen could happen.

  “Do not shift, harpy,” Yolanda barked. “We have questions.”

  “A harpy? Really? I thought those were supposed to be bird-woman-chicken things,” I said. It was probably not the best time for that comment, all things considered.

  “Insolent human!” Alice snapped, all trace of that former charm gone. “I will tear your limbs from their sockets and suck the marrow from your bones.”

  “Cheerful. Except, you have to kill me before that can happen,” I said, spreading my hands in sarcastic apology. “Unfortunately, I’m having problems with that at the moment. So why don’t we just have a nice, cozy chat, hmm? That way we won’t have to introduce you to our boss, we get to figure out what really happened to Magnus, and you get to hang on to your life.”

  Alice sneered, somehow still inhumanly beautiful. That, more than the poison-coloured eyes or the glass-shattering screech, was disconcerting. “You cannot intimidate me into talking. You will never get the information you—aiieeeeee!”

  Yolanda had twisted the harpy’s arm back into a joint manipulation that you usually only saw in wrestling matches. Alice had to bend completely in half to relieve the pressure. As a result, she got a pretty good look at me when I stepped forwards and bared my teeth.

  I was a human, sure. I didn’t have any fancy magical powers or super-sharp canines. I couldn’t sprout wings and I couldn’t run at a bajillion miles an hour. But I could be very, very, annoyed.

  “Did you know that all I’ve ever wanted to do was marketing? I was pretty good at it, too, until I got hired by Death,” I said in a low voice. Alice whimpered at the mention of Death. “That went pretty well for about a day, until Life came storming in claiming that her hubby had killed Magnus, one of her favourite warriors. Death didn’t do it—which I know that you know—and so I got saddled with the job of figuring out whodunnit. Why? Because I’m a human and I could go around poking my nose into other people’s business without people expecting anything but ignorance and offence. Now, let me tell you something! Since then, I’ve been killed by an all-knowing Irishman, a very angry snake-thing, and I’ve been almost tortured by the House Vampyr and the Order of Silence. Obviously, I’m not dead. I’m just really tired of this investigation. I haven’t slept properly since my not-death. So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just take out the last couple of days on you?”

  Alice snarled, but I saw a spark of fear in her eyes. She twisted and tried her best to get out of Yolanda’s grip. I didn’t think Yolanda was holding the harpy hard enough to cause serious damage, but I could practically hear the joint snap out of place as Alice struggled against the hold.

  The harpy screamed again, this time one of pain rather than destructive energy.

  Her beautiful image slipped away entirely. I was left staring at a straggly-haired bird with the head and chest of a woman. She had wings that barely looked big enough to carry her in flight. Her feathers were matted with dried gore and dirt and she had claws bigger than my finger. Her eyes burned with rage. The harpy hurled herself at Yolanda as my assistant released her with an apologetic look. “You broke my wing!”

  Yolanda yelped and held up a hand to cover her eyes. The harpy, though, only had the advantage for a second. Those claws did no more damage to Yolanda than had the vampire’s spears. My assistant roared and that same shimmering the harpy had used to trans
form gathered around her. It was the battle magic, I realised, as Yolanda grew taller and put on more muscle. Her eyes lost their rational look and became pools of pure animalistic fury.

  She lunged at the harpy, who screeched and tried to back pedal. But a bird with only one good wing can only move so quickly, especially with talons made for fighting, not running. Yolanda had her hand wrapped around Alice’s throat before I could blink. I cried out to try and prevent the inevitable, but I was too slow.

  The silvery streak that landed in the industrial park, sword flashing, wasn’t too slow. Yolanda’s arm suddenly spouted a good deal of deep green blood, the sword having cut easily through her thick skin. The troll roared and took a step back to face her new attacker, the wound already closing.

  “Enough,” Justice said, head bowed. The bandage around his eyes sported new spots of blood and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was a mess, his clothes were rumpled and his sword arm sagged. “Do not hurt the harpy. She does not deserve this fate.”

  “Justice, thank you,” I said, letting out a breath of relief. “If you hadn’t shown up, our only lead on who killed Magnus would be dead. Not on purpose, mind you, but there’s only so much you can do against a rampaging troll. While I work for Death, I doubt he would, you know, be helpful or pleased if that happened.”

  I took a step forwards, but Justice’s sword flashed up to rest against my neck. He turned his blind-gaze to look at me and twisted his lips in a snarl. “Move no closer and I won’t have to remove your head.”

  “Justice?” I asked, my breath coming out in a wheeze. “What’s going on?”

  “It is time for you to receive the fate of those who seek Justice,” he said. The scary part wasn’t that he was angry or eager or anything. He just stated that in a cold, detached voice. He meant to kill me.