by G. T. Spoor
“Anything in there about us?” she asked.
“Should there be?”
“I hope not.”
“This might interest you.” Sarah handed the paper to Emily. “Says here, there was another incident at one of the Crystal Exploration Corporation’s mining stations. One of their large drillers was damaged. They believe it was the work of the children of Gaea.”
Emily glanced over the article. There wasn’t much information, only a few paragraphs, and Sarah managed to sum it up quite nicely.
“I thought you said they weren’t violent.”
“They’re not,” Sarah said. “Damaging a machine is not the same thing as damaging a person.”
“From what I’ve seen in this city, it would depend on the race of the person.”
“Dowers happen to be very well respected among the vir.”
“I think Hardbrew would have a few things to say about that.” Emily laughed. “By the way, is he sober yet?”
“I don’t know. I left him in the kitchen with his mail.”
“What mail?”
“There was a box at the door with his name on it. He’s—”
Emily tossed the paper aside and ran into the kitchen. “Hardbrew. Stop,” she shouted.
The dower was still seated at the table, a small wooden box sitting in front of him. It was about one-foot square and rather plain looking. Nothing on it to indicate what it was, other than a wooden box. In his inebriated state, Hardbrew was having difficulty with the latch. He had gotten it open when Emily leaped over the table and grabbed it out of his hands before sliding off the other side. There was a sudden flash of darkness before she hit the floor. Then she heard Sarah scream. Untangling herself from the kitchen chair, Emily held the box closed as she got to her feet. Sarah was standing in the doorway, but there was no sign of Hardbrew.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Sarah said nothing. Her face was pale. She pointed to where the dower had been sitting only moments ago. Unfortunately, he was still there, or at least the bottom half of him was. Everything above his waist was gone. A layer of dust covered the floor around his feet. Emily looked at the box in her hands and carefully set it on the kitchen table. So much for her first protection duty.
Sarah slowly turned and looked at her.
“Is he—?”
“Don’t even ask if he’s dead.”
“But—”
“Where did this box come from?”
“It was at the front door with the morning paper. It was addressed to Mr. Hardbrew. I assumed—”
“Nobody knew he was here.”
“Somebody must have.”
What was it the old woman said—the green-robed man came back for his package.
“Whatever you do, don’t open this,” she told Sarah before leaving her alone in the room with half a dower and the little box of death.
Running out the front door, Emily was just in time to catch a glimpse of green robes disappearing down the staircase at the end of the hall. She was afraid if he got away this time, he wouldn’t have a reason to resurface, seeing as he had completed his job. Hardbrew was the last dower on the list.
By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, he was already out the door and down the street. The morning crowds hadn’t yet gathered and what few people there were quickly stepped aside as he ran past. Emily chased him for nearly three blocks before he disappeared into the warehouse district. It was there she thought she lost him until she heard the sound of a slamming door.
He had gone to ground.
She had to try a few doors before she found the right one, which was also the only one unlocked. Pushing it open, she quickly slipped inside, keeping close to the wall. She needed to stay in the shadows. Poor lighting, along with the crates, barrels, and boxes, created countless hiding places. She knew he was in here; it was now a matter of finding him. Unfortunately, the green-robed man would be waiting for her. The advantage was his—for now.
Closing her eyes, she held her breath and listened but heard nothing. The warehouse was silent. Nothing moved, nothing seemed out of place. If there were any workers, they hadn’t arrived yet. It was still too early.
Carefully, she reached out with one foot and tested the floor. It felt sturdy. There was no give and therefore no sound. She slowly shifted her weight and held it there for a moment before reaching out with the other foot. Moving silently came easy to her. As she crept along the walls, she paused every five steps and held her breath to listen. She moved around the stack of barrels and down between the crates.
Five steps. Hold breath. Listen.
Always keep to the shadows.
Always mind your surroundings.
Before she could take another step, Emily heard the creaking of a floorboard.
He was close.
She was standing in the center of a narrow aisle. On one side of her was a row of containers. On the other side was a wall of crates. The sound came from the other side of the crates. The wall was a formidable obstacle. Nearly fifteen feet high and not very well balanced. Going around was an option, but that would put her on even ground with the man in green, and she didn’t know her adversary. Going over the top would be difficult, but it would give her the advantage she was looking for, assuming she managed to do it without pulling the wall down on top of her.
Grabbing hold of the first tier, she hoisted herself up as quietly as possible. Carefully, she made her way from one crate to the next, searching out the most stable route. When she reached the top, she pulled herself over the edge and stayed low. Looking down into the next aisle, she saw nothing. There was no one there.
Closing her eyes, she held her breath and listened.
This time she could hear the sounds of someone breathing. It was coming from the next aisle over, behind a wall of barrels. She could even see a bit of green moving through the cracks. He was waiting for her.
Reaching into the sleeve of her jacket, she closed her fingers around one of the small metal rods. They still felt warm to the touch. Hopefully they still worked. Bracing herself against one of the warehouse posts, she held the tyng flat against the surface of the crates and watched as it grew longer. Slowly, the end of the rod reached across the empty aisle until it touched the top row of barrels on the other side. Now it was simply a matter of thought.
The barrels slowly toppled over.
She heard the man cry out as the wall began to fall. He tried to run, but he wasn’t fast enough as the barrels came tumbling down. It was so loud it shook the dust off the rafters. When everything settled, six aisles had been flattened.
By the time Emily got back on the ground and found a vir in green, he had almost pulled himself free. Although, one of his legs was still trapped, pinned beneath the debris.
“Who sent you?” she asked him.
The man looked at her with glowing blue eyes. She hadn’t counted on him being a mystic. He seemed frightened at first, but that quickly changed to a look of betrayal.
Emily cautiously stepped forward.
“Tell me who sent you, and I’ll get you out of there.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, his fingers moved in an intricate pattern, as if he was knitting the air around them. Suddenly, he threw his hands toward her. There was a flash of blue light and she was lifted off the floor and thrown back against the wall. The impact left her dazed for a moment as she slumped to the ground. Rolling over on his back, the mystic grabbed the barrel that hindered his freedom. With a loud crack, it flew through the air, rising ten feet off the ground and traveled forty feet across the floor. Hitting the far wall of the warehouse, it exploded into a cloud of splinters. Now free, the mystic slowly got to his feet, but he couldn’t put much weight on his right foot and needed to brace himself to stand.
Emily adjusted her grip on the tyng and thought it to a five-foot length. She held it out in front of her, although she wasn’t sure what protection it would provide against the mystic arts.
&n
bsp; “Who are you?” she asked again.
He squinted and his blue eyes seemed to glow brighter. A wicked smile spread across his face. Clearly he was not the talkative type.
“Who sent you?”
His fingers began their mesmerizing dance again, and without thinking, Emily held up the tyng to defend herself. She felt the impact and saw the flash of blue light, but nothing happened. Both she and the mystic were still in one piece. The only thing that changed was the tyng. It was now glowing. By the look on the man’s face, this was not what he expected either.
His fingers started moving again, but she wasn’t going to wait for another attack. Charging the mystic, Emily swung the tyng as his arm came forward. Another flash of blue light, so close to her face, forced her to close her eyes. She heard the mystic cry out in pain as something solid struck the side of her head.
When Emily opened her eyes, the man in green was gone and her tyng was no longer glowing. It seemed to be back to normal. There wasn’t even any sign of damage, although she couldn’t say the same for the mystic, seeing as his right arm was now lying on the floor behind her.
Chapter 14
Of Elves and Magic
Emily spotted the hot-top upon her return. Hopefully it meant Berk had finally arrived. Too bad they wouldn’t be needing that safe house anymore. As she climbed the stairs to the third floor and approached the apartment, she found the door wide open. Inside, she heard Berk talking with Sarah, but they weren’t discussing Hardbrew or the box of death on the kitchen table. They were talking about her.
“…And you say she ran out of here?” Berk asked. He had lapsed into his professional Merc tone again, which meant he was trying to interrogate Sarah. “And she didn’t tell you where she was going?”
“All she said was not to open the box and then she was gone,” Sarah answered.
“Interesting.”
“What is?”
“It seems odd that the only people who knew Hardbrew was here, were you, me, and, well, Emily.”
“Are you trying to say she killed the dower?”
Emily quietly backed away from the open door. She didn’t like where this conversation was heading, but she had to know where it would end.
“No. Of course not,” Berk said. He didn’t sound too convinced. “But it is a bit suspicious. What do you know about the Yastazie?”
“The what?”
“The Yastazie.”
“I’ve never heard them.”
“Neither have I.”
“So, what do they have to do with Emily?”
“Well, Hardbrew accused her of being one, and I don’t think she took it as a compliment. When I asked her about it, she brushed it off and said it was nothing, but I think it was far from nothing. I tried looking it up in the Red Wolf archives, but the only thing I could find was a short paragraph in an old book. It said something about mystics and experiments and well… the oni—but I didn’t understand any of it.”
Sarah laughed. “Are you saying you think Emily is an oni?”
“What? No. No, nothing like that… I mean… well…”
“Oh, come on, Berk. An oni? That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Of course it is. Oni are like savage demons, and she’s like…”
Sarah’s voice trailed off and Emily was afraid she knew what was coming next.
“She’s what?” Berk asked.
“It’s nothing.”
“You were clearly going to say something.”
“A couple of days ago, at the Bird and Bay, she may have gotten into a slight altercation with a few customers. That’s all.”
“What do you mean by a slight altercation?”
“She… kind of… roughed up three mill workers, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“How bad was it?”
“It wasn’t all that bad. She got a little carried away, that’s all.”
“A little carried away?”
“Look, she’s my friend, and I refuse to believe she’s an oni.”
“I didn’t say she was, but how much do you really know about her?”
“Enough to know she didn’t kill the dower.”
“I’m not saying she did.”
“It sounds like you’re saying she did.”
“I’m only pointing out that she had a motive.”
“Because she was afraid everyone might find out she’s a Yastazie? What kind of motive is that?”
“For someone who keeps secrets, it’s a pretty good motive.”
It was at that point that Emily got tired of eavesdropping and quietly stepped into the room. She walked up behind Berk without him noticing. “Not bad. You’re learning.”
When he turned around, she could see the blood draining from his face. He looked almost ill.
“Emily. I… I didn’t mean anything by it—”
“And you said you weren’t a good investigator.”
“I didn’t believe it for a second,” Sarah added.
“Actually, he made a few good points,” Emily said. “But he forgot it takes more than a motive. While I may have also had the opportunity to kill Hardbrew, the way it was done left a lot to be desired. Had I wanted him dead, I could have easily poisoned his ale or suffocated him in his sleep or maybe even stabbed him with a knife from the kitchen drawer. To go through the elaborate means of using this”—she placed her hand on the box of death—“is foolish. You’ve seen what this did to the other places, how much damage it created. Using this here would not only put my life in danger, but Sarah’s as well.”
“Oh. Yeah, I… I didn’t really think of that,” Berk said. “But it still doesn’t explain how the killer knew where Hardbrew was. We were the only ones who knew, and I know I didn’t tell anyone, which leaves you and Sarah.”
“Me,” Sarah screeched.
“I… I didn’t mean it that way,” Berk said. Now he was turning a bright shade of red. “I… I don’t think you had anything to do with it. You had no connection with Hardbrew before we showed up with him. You had no reason to want to see him dead.”
“Well, that’s not exactly true,” Emily interrupted. “She wasn’t too happy that he was going to stay in her apartment.”
Sarah glared at her. “You think I—”
“No, of course not.” Emily waved her off. “I’m simply pointing out how easy it is to get caught up in the moment. I don’t think any one of us had anything to do with Hardbrew’s death.”
“He is all over her kitchen floor,” Berk said, regarding Sarah suspiciously.
Emily slowly shook her head. “And what exactly did you put in your report to Captain Petrova?”
“Only the basics. That I investigated Flintmace’s house. Found it to be similar to that of Boulderjaw’s, which led me to believe that Thrum Hardbrew was in danger, and so, for his protection, I brought him…”
Berk fell silent.
“Yes. You brought him where?” Emily asked.
“I brought him here,” he confessed. “I put this address in my report.”
“So, what you’re saying is anyone who read that report knew exactly where Hardbrew was.”
“I’m such an idiot.”
“It not your fault. You didn’t know. But in the future, you may want to keep details like that out of your reports until after the fact.”
“You think a Red Wolf killed Hardbrew?” Sarah asked.
“No, but I think they may have leaked the information—unless we want to continue accusing each other.”
Berk held up his hands. “Now, wait a minute. Why did you run out of here if you weren’t responsible for Hardbrew’s death—not that I ever thought you were.”
“You remember what the old lady said about the green-robed man returning to retrieve the box?”
Berk’s eyes lit up. “You saw him?”
“Oh yeah, I saw him. Caught up with him in one of the warehouses a couple of blocks from here. I seriously doubt he has anything to do with the Churc
h of Gaea, though.”
“Whys that?” Sarah asked.
“Because he’s a mystic.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure.”
“So, what happened? Where did he go?” Berk asked.
“After I managed to… disarm him, he disappeared.”
Berk slumped down into one of the overstuffed chairs. “So, what you’re saying is, we have nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say nothing. We do have the box of death.”
“And half a dower,” Sarah pointed out. “Which I’m not cleaning up.”
“We’ll have to bring him back to Talomria. Let Coaltank know what happened. Then we’ll take the box to Mira. Maybe she can tell us what’s inside.”
~~~***~~~
After wrapping Hardbrew’s lower half in a blanket and collecting the rest of him in a pouch, they drove back to Talomria where they met with Coaltank. He had little to say on the matter. The general distrust between the dowers and the vir had been festering for ages, and although Coaltank didn’t blame Emily directly, it was clear he held her somewhat responsible for Hardbrew’s death. Emily knew she had lost the respect of the Domatta, and the only way to regain it was to find the mystic, or at least those responsible for sending him after the dower. It was her firm belief the mystic was not acting alone and was no more than a hired assassin. She had yet to share her theory with Berk since the only piece of evidence she found to support it was also the only piece of evidence she couldn’t show him.
“The nerve of him.” Berk pulled the hot-top back on the main road. “He might as well have come out and accused us of killing the dower.”
“It’s not like we didn’t accuse each other,” Emily said.
“Come on, Em. You know I never actually believed you had anything to do with his death.”
