by E. A. Copen
I pushed a button, shutting the phone off and pocketing it. “Thanks for your help,” I said briskly to Ed as I stood.
Ed shot up. “Hold on. Tell me what you found. I know that look.”
“Nothing,” I lied. “I just realized others are also looking for her, is all.”
Ed frowned at me. Given the fierce look he was wearing, I could tell he didn’t buy my story. It didn’t matter. Whatever story he could conjure up in his head wouldn’t be as bad as the truth. He’d lose his shit and go to the pack if he thought Crux had Mara. That would be another mess, more lives to juggle keeping safe.
“I guess,” he offered. I went for the door and Ed followed. Leaning on it, he added, “You do know I’m going to look for her too, right?”
“Stay out of it, Ed,” I warned. “Let me do my job. Please.”
“If it were someone you loved, could you?”
My throat closed. I couldn’t say anything. I went back to my car and ended the trip much as I began it, sitting behind the wheel, worrying about Mara.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Abe’s beat up old pickup truck was already parked at the station when I arrived. Inside, the police presence was especially heavy. As soon as I made it through the front doors of the station, Quincy called my name and jogged up to me, red-faced and sweating.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is everything okay?”
He tipped his plastic cowboy hat back with a flick of two fingers. “You’d better come with me,” he said and put an arm on my back, gesturing down the hall to the break room.
On the way, I noted most of the desks were empty. The ones that weren’t were crowded, four or five uniforms hovering around them and leaning in as if something important was happening. When I strained my neck and found a gap between people, I saw they were focused on someone holding a cell phone, though I couldn’t make out what was on the screen.
When we made it to the break room, Quincy pushed through the crowd with me in tow and brought me to stand with Tindall. He’d taken off his jacket but still wore his guns in his shoulder holsters. His arms crossed and brow furrowed, he muttered, “Glad you could make it.”
“What is it?” I said, looking at the television. The only thing I could see was the local news broadcast. “What’s happening?”
“Quiet!” Quincy called, holding up his hands. “It’s about to start!”
The news program went on a break and the next thing was a commercial filled with dark, emotionally charged music. The words WHO DO YOU TRUST came onto the black screen in white font. After the words faded, some archived footage of a riot in L.A. during the Revelation played. Riot police, armed with tear gas and riot shields, closed on a crowd of protesters.
“I remember this,” I whispered under my breath.
The question about trust reappeared on the screen with some additional words:
WHO DO YOU TRUST WITH YOUR SAFETY?
The next bit of grainy footage was of a police officer beating a protester bloody with his baton.
WHO DO YOU TRUST WITH YOUR CHILDREN?
A teddy bear appeared, the cotton fur singed by fire.
WHO DO YOU TRUST WITH YOUR LIVES?
The screen went back to the riot footage just as the officers fired on the crowd.
WHO DO YOU TRUST TO KEEP CONCHO COUNTY SAFE?
My skin prickled at the next set of footage. It was of Tindall and I standing together outside of Aisling under red and blue police lights. Someone rolled a body bag past while he appeared to be standing by, smoking, and I looked like I was laughing. The footage was doctored, but even the faked footage was damning.
SUPERNATURAL CRIME IS NO LAUGHING MATTER. MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD. A VOTE FOR MAUDE IS A VOTE FOR SAFETY.
WHO DO YOU TRUST?
At the end of the ad, a voice came on and announced it was paid for by the Vanguards of Humanity.
After it aired, the room waited in stunned silence. I was the first to speak. “Jesus, Tindall.”
“He’s been running it all day,” Tindall muttered. “Where the hell did he get that footage?”
I turned to face him. “Is it even of you?”
“Hell no. Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to be. I was connected to it and he’s going to use it to pool the human vote.” Tindall uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his hips. “Even if he doesn’t win, he’s going to polarize the shit out of this county, Judah. Last thing this place needs is an us versus them attitude.”
“You’ve got to hit back,” I told Tindall. “Make your own ad. Say exactly that.”
“Shit, Judah. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Marcus Kelley does,” I pointed out.
“Like that guy isn’t preaching the same damn thing.” He rubbed his temples. “This is going to be a mess come election day. I can see it now. Fights breaking out in the polling lines, someone throws a punch and the other guy responds with a bullet. Dammit. I should just drop out before this goes too far.”
“No!” I grabbed Tindall by the arm. He met my tired and haggard gaze with one of his own. “Division can only triumph when good men stand by and do nothing. He wants you to drop out. Concho County needs you to stay in.”
“We got your back,” said one of the cops in the room and patted Tindall on the shoulder. A chorus of echoes went up as more of them shouted the same.
“You can’t bow out now!” someone else shouted. “The election is in twenty days!”
“Do you really want that blowhard to win without a fight?” I asked Tindall.
He nodded. “You’re right. But I don’t need to stoop to his level and call on Marcus Kelley for a commercial.” Tindall removed his signature fedora and held it up. “Consider this my request for donations. All proceeds go toward making Maude eat his words!”
A cheer and a round of applause went up from the whole station. I reached into my pocket, drew out my wallet and pulled out my last twenty to drop into his hat before passing it on to the next guy. Then, I grabbed Tindall’s hand, patting him on the arm. “Good man,” I said and then slipped back through the crowd.
The station came slowly back to life, officers wandering back toward their desks, phones ringing and papers shuffling. But there was a change in the air, a new unspoken tension. Tindall was right. Even if Maude didn’t win, statements like the ones he’d been making were dangerous. The population of Concho County was still roughly sixty-six percent non-supernatural. If even half of those people fed into what he was saying and decided they were safer if all the supernaturals were gone... I wouldn’t be enough to stop them.
I found the interrogation rooms and peeked inside the first. Sven was in there, waiting patiently. There was an untouched cup of coffee in front of him and an officer across from him, flipping through channels on the television. They stopped on a soap opera. Sven glanced up at it but then turned his attention back to the top of the table.
When I pushed open the door, he looked up. The beat cop stood and I waved him out of the room. As soon as the door shut, Sven started to apologize again.
“It’s okay, Sven,” I said, waving my hand. “You weren’t yourself.”
“And what about my friend?”
I sat in the chair the other cop had been occupying. “Sven, your friend, Tammy, the one you were so afraid would get hurt... Do you know where Crux took her?”
He shook his head back and forth. “I didn’t see her. He only told me he had her. You’re going to help her, right? Master said she’s a bad person, but she was nice to me. She brought me chocolates.”
My heart sank. The only person in the whole world who had ever been nice to Sven, at least to hear him tell it, had been Mara.
I was pretty sure Sven wasn’t cognitively an adult. With his strange, simplistic speech patterns and child-like loyalty to his caretaker, I guessed he had some serious delays. That didn’t mean he didn’t deserve to be treated as a human being. The way Crux treated him wasn’t right. Mara must’ve seen that, too. And now Mar
a was missing...
“Sven, I know you told me about the missing fae. And this might sound kind of crazy... but do you know anything about... ice giants?”
I was sure Sven would laugh at me. Most sane people would. But Sven didn’t laugh. His eyes widened. “Hrimthursar,” he said. “Yes. I know them. They live in Jotunheim. Mother used to say we had the blood of giants. That’s why I was so big.”
I blinked. “Where did you say you were from?”
“I was born in Uppsala,” he said proudly. “Sweden. But then mother and me came to live with Crux. I loved her stories about the giants. When I was scared, I used to talk to them.”
“Sven, give me your hands.” I extended my hands toward him, palms up.
He eyed them warily. “I’m not supposed to touch girls,” he said, his cheeks turning red.
I offered him a warm smile. “It’s alright. I just need to hold your hands for a minute. You won’t get in trouble. I promise.”
Sven huffed a great breath through his nose. Then, he raised his big, meaty hands and lowered them, palms first, on top of mine. Next to Sven’s enormous fingers, mine looked like twigs. I knew he was big but his size didn’t sink in with me until then. With fists that big, he could have easily squeezed the life out of me earlier. I was thankful he hadn’t.
But I wasn’t touching palms with Sven as a size comparison. I was doing a thorough reading of his aura. With a little effort, I could just look at people and see their auras in a general sense. For a deeper reading, though, physical contact was a necessity. Most of the time, reading auras wasn’t particularly helpful to make or break a case. I didn’t know if it would this time or not, but it would tell me if Sven had any access to magick.
When our palms touched, it felt like jumping into a bathtub with toasters as shoes. An electric charge ran through me, forcing my back to stiffen. If I hadn’t gripped on tight to his hands, I would have fallen out of my chair from the surprise. Even if I’d suspected he was gifted, I hadn’t expected that.
Sven had holes in his aura in all the normal vampire feeding places: the neck, the arms and wrists, the chest and over the femoral artery in his leg. To me, it looked as if Crux had stabbed him repeatedly, the wounds pulsating slightly with the rhythm of Sven’s heartbeat. Beyond those holes, Sven’s aura glowed in blinding layers. Gold, indigo and mossy green swirled around him with an intensity hard to look away from. Sven may have been a little slower than many when it came to understanding human interaction, but his innate magickal ability was off the charts.
I closed my eyes, jerked my head to the side and pulled my hands away. How stupid I’d been to overlook him as a suspect before. Sven definitely had the magickal chops to open a gateway to Faerie. What’s more, if what he was saying was true and he did have a giant somewhere in his bloodline—something I’d believe given his height—then there was a reason the giant would have come to his aid. Perhaps the two shared some ancestry. And he had a motive. He was protecting his one and only friend from perceived threats like Harry, who had made her cry, and Kim who had let him.
After a deep breath, I decided to ask him point blank, “Sven, did you send one of those hrimthursar to protect Mara... I mean Tammy?”
“She protected me,” said Sven, lowering his palms to the tabletop. “And she was scared. She wouldn’t tell me but I could tell. She was scared of Harry.”
I shook my head. “If Crux has her, why didn’t you just send the ice giant after him?”
“Because Crux is my master,” said the big man without hesitation. “And I serve him. What purpose do I have if not to serve my master?”
I had to close my eyes and turn away. Inside, my heart was breaking for Sven, for Mara... But Sven was indirectly responsible for the deaths of dozens. The fact that he didn’t fully understand what he had done wouldn’t matter to BSI. With such talent, they’d be more than eager to lock him up and throw away the key if they didn’t decide to dissect him in a lab first. Of course, I couldn’t let him go free, either. But I could cross that bridge when I came to it.
“Do you know where your master is now?”
He shook his head. “But I bet he is angry. I missed being there to feed him. He’ll be very cranky.”
Never mind he’ll give you the beating of a lifetime for failing to kill me, I thought. And then kill you.
“Why did Crux tell you to attack me, anyway?”
“Because you were looking into the missing fae, questioning Kim and the deal. And you refused him his blood debt. No one ever tells master no for anything.” He shifted in his seat. “Can I leave now? I’d like to go back to my master.”
“It’ll be a little while more. Just one more thing, Sven. The giant you sent to protect Tammy, what exactly did you tell it to do?”
He thought for a minute, putting a finger to his bottom lip. “Protect Tammy.”
Well, there was a spark of hope but it was also a little worrying. Clearly, the giant thought Harry and Kim were a threat to Mara. The mess at Mara’s place told me it also thought Crux was a threat when he showed up to abduct her. Mara must’ve taken down the wards protecting the place to let it in. Did she know Sven had sent the giant to protect her? Had she figured it out before me? That was the only thing that made sense. She did have more puzzle pieces than I did.
But it also meant the giant could show up wherever Crux was holding Mara and cause even more collateral damage. It didn’t seem to care who it killed as long as it got to its target.
I swallowed and asked Sven, “Are you able to call it again or control it?”
He shook his head. “I tried. It won’t listen.”
Looks like calling the thing off isn’t going to work, I thought. Once it got its orders, the giant was bound to complete its task or die trying. That complicated things.
“Thanks, big guy,” I said, reaching across the table to pat him on the arm. It felt like patting steel.
Sven blinked. “Sven. My name is Sven.”
“Of course it is, big guy. Stay here. I’ll send someone in to keep you company.”
Out in the hallway, I stopped the first cop I saw. “Make sure he doesn’t leave,” I told them. “But don’t handcuff him and, whatever you do, don’t make him angry.”
“Yes, ma’am. What should I do if he gets agitated?”
“Call me or Agent Helsinki immediately.”
I stole a glance back through the one-way mirror at the gentle giant whose good intentions had murdered countless innocents. What kind of punishment was fair? If I arrested him, the best-case scenario had Crux filing a petition to deport him, claiming Sven was property. Then, Crux would kill him because there’d be no way to proceed without making it a public fact. If I let him go, he’d just go back to Crux... who would kill him.
The big man found the remote and changed the channel to some cartoons. His face lit up with glee when he saw it and booming laughter echoed out of the room. I turned away, knowing there was nothing I could do.
Chapter Twenty-Three
In the next room, Abe was grilling Robbie, as I expected. Robbie wore an expression of cool rage, watching Abe stalk across the floor with the patient hunger of a tiger on the prowl. I knocked on the door to Robbie’s interrogation room and then popped it open.
Robbie butted in before I could say anything. “There she is. Tell this git to sod off and get my lawyer or else bloody process me and put me in a cell so I can get my bloody phone call.”
I stepped into the room and slammed the door shut behind me. I must have looked as pissed as I felt because Robbie’s demeanor shifted. His back straightened, and he folded his hands in front of him as if he were in Sunday School instead of an interrogation room.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me Mara was dancing in your club?”
Robbie narrowed his eyes. “Who?”
“And I know about the loan you took out from the Stryx on Kim’s behalf. That’s why she’s so pissed at you.”
“What’s this?” Robbie sat up. “
You’re off your nutter. I called for my lawyer. I’ve got a right to legal representation.”
“Why? Have you got something to hide?” Abe asked, leaning on the table.
Robbie looked from me to Abe. “You’re mad, the both of you.”
“What do you know about Kim’s deal with Crux?” I said.
“Kiss my arse, copper.” Robbie rose out of his seat.
Abe pushed him back down. “Sit down. You are not nearly as threatening as you think you are.”
Robbie’s eyes were on fire with defiance. “What say you take off these irons and we go out back and settle this like men? You can show me those half-blood fangs of yours aren’t just for show and I’ll teach you why my name, my true name, is a black curse in Faerie.”
Abe flashed his fangs and made a small growl. “I have nothing to prove to you.”
“You’re a coward, that’s what you are. A bloody mudak.”
In a move faster than my eye could perceive, Abe reached out and grabbed the back of Robbie’s head. With a loud grunt, he heaved it into the tabletop so hard the table split in two. Robbie, who was still cuffed to the table and stunned, went down, one arm going each way as the table cracked in half.
“Abe!” I shouted, going forward to stand between them. “Jesus!”
“I do not take kindly to being insulted in my mother tongue,” Abe said, flashing his fangs.
Robbie didn’t lose consciousness, but he did have a good-sized gash on his forehead. It didn’t stop him from chuckling in a dark tone. “Oh, I am so going to sue you!”
“No, you’re not,” I said, pulling Robbie up. “Because, let’s face it, you deserve worse. After you sent us on a wild goose chase out to Kim’s, both of us almost got killed. This spat between you and Kim needs to end so we can get some answers.” I helped him back into his seat and adjusted the table as best I could. “That debt you got her into, that’s the whole reason your people have gone missing.”
Robbie looked up at me, wide eyed, blood streaming down the side of his nose. Out of fear the sight of the blood would trigger something in Abe, I gave the half vampire a wary look. But Abe just crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side.
