I made polite listening noises while Ida droned on a bit more. Tom nodded here and there as he pretended to take her seriously. When she finally said her goodbyes, I came around to the showroom, not wanting to speak to the officer over the cutout.
He stood grim-faced, his weight evenly distributed on both feet and his thumbs hooked into his gun belt. His formal bearing heightened my anxiety—he looked so serious. Had he found Sloan and connected her to us?
"So, what Ida was saying is true?"
"I wouldn't call it a crime wave, but several stores in town have had a run of unusually high shoplifting—women's clothing, food, survival stuff from the sporting goods store. I wanted to check if you'd had any similar problems."
"Thank you, Tommy. That's very thoughtful of you." I looked over at Holly, careful not to show my relief. "We don't carry those types of necessities; however, Holly would know better than I if we were having a problem."
"No, we haven't had any theft recently," Holly said.
"Do you have a good security system?"
"Matt installed one for us a few months back. He said it was top of the line, as these things go. I can show you, if you like."
"If you'll excuse me…" I said, eager to get away as Tom followed Holly.
Neither of them paid attention when I left them and went back to my workroom. Instead of sitting at my table to start my workday, I tapped Brenna's foot as she lay flat out on the shelf, snoring. Evidently she had been bored to sleep by Ida's commentary. She awoke, rubbing her eyes and grumbling. I crooked a finger indicating she should follow me as I slipped through the back door.
I looked up and down the alley behind the store, almost expecting to see Sloan or perhaps the big dog. No doubt they weren't far away. The only reason for her to stay in town was to be near us. I saw nothing unusual; just the battered back sides of the stores along the alley, the garbage dumpsters and a stray cat.
The Pixie yawned and sat on my shoulder.
"What's up, Tressie?" she asked.
"Brenna, there's a girl hiding somewhere around town. She has purple hair and travels with an Irish Wolfhound. I need you to find her and tell her to come to the shop at once. Annoy her until she does it if you must."
"She can see, hear me? She a Sidhe Seer?" Brenna asked, shaking herself awake.
"I'm not sure what she is, but she can see you," I assured her. "Will you do me this favor?"
"Aye, anything for Tressie." She kissed my cheek, tickling me with her wings and fluttered off down the alley.
Sophia hopped into the shop a few hours later, her father trailing behind her. She went directly to Trayce where he rested in an infant seat next to his mother, almost as if she had baby radar. Alexander came through to my workroom.
I smiled up at him, pleasantly surprised to see him in the middle of the day. He greeted me with a quick kiss.
"What brings you to town?" I asked.
"Dad's in the car. Since I have no classes today, I've decided to take a run back to his house to start packing it up. He needs more clothes."
I saw the sense in this and nodded.
"Shamus says he's too busy putting the house in order—implying that we put him out a great deal with our move," he recounted with a grin. "He can't keep Sophia for me, so I brought her to you. Is that okay?"
"Of course."
He peered over my shoulder at my current project, half-finished on my table, then leaned past me for a closer look. He picked up a loose stone and held it up to the light.
"What a fabulous garnet—great clarity. I hit on a patch of similar stones in Colorado a few years back. What are you making?"
"One of my regulars commissioned a set made of garnet and gold. I'm working on the necklace."
"Beautiful. I've got to run." With another kiss, he was on his way.
Sophia pulled herself away from the baby long enough to hug me... but only because I asked her to. I was kissing the top of her head when Alexander shoved through the door again, the chimes jangling harshly.
"Dad's gone," he said in a strangled voice. "He's wandered off somewhere."
John didn't know this town. With his mental state, he might not find his way back to the car. I jumped from my chair, grabbed my coat, and rushed to join Alexander.
"Sophia, stay with Holly until we get back," I called over my shoulder as we rushed out the door.
I looked up and down the block. No one was on the sidewalks of our quiet side street. A car turning off Main Street and driving past us was the only activity in sight.
I quickly assessed which direction John was more likely to go. The cross street to the right was another sleepy road, with residential homes and the edge of the parking lot. The commotion on Main Street seemed to be the best bet. Alexander must have reached the same conclusion; we both turned and hurried in that direction.
Main Street bustled with activity. Cars lined up at stoplights as people came into town to shop or headed through on their way to the highway.
"Let's split up. Do you have your phone?" Alexander asked. I nodded. "Okay. Call me if you find him. I'll do the same."
I hurried off to the right, brushing past people, trying to scan the faces on both sides of the street. Then, realizing the heavy traffic made it unlikely that John had crossed, I concentrated on my side. I looked for him through store windows as I passed.
Someone caught my eye at the pharmacy. A large display of cold remedies blocked him from view, all except for his white hair. I hesitated, waiting for him to turn around or move from behind the display. Rachel Singer, Linda's pretty brunette mother, stepped out from her hair salon next door.
"Tressa, what in the world are you doing?" she asked, crossing her arms as the cold air hit her.
"I'm looking for Alexander's father. He has dementia and he's wandered off."
"Oh wait, a good looking silver-haired man wearing a Celtics jacket?"
"Aye, that sounds like him."
"I saw him just a few minutes ago. I noticed the jacket. Ricky is such a huge Knicks fan—I was thinking how outraged he would be," she said, smiling as she imagined her husband's reaction.
"Did you notice which way he went?" Irrationally, my heart thumped harder now that I had a clue to his whereabouts.
"I'm pretty sure he turned this corner here." She unraveled her arms and waved toward the right.
"Thanks, Rachel. I'm going to rush—I want to make certain he's okay."
"Sure thing! Let's get together sometime soon, it's been forever," Rachel said as she went back into her salon.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and rang Alexander while I moved in the direction Rachel had indicated. As I repeated the conversation to him, I remembered an auto shop two blocks away.
"Xander, if he went this way, he's bound to be at Burt's Auto."
"Good idea. I'll swing around and head that way too."
At the end of the block I turned right onto Church Street. Half a block down, across from St. Francis Church, was Burt's Auto Repair. The small local garage, originally painted white, was now a sooty gray. A battered and rusted sign hung above the two bay doors.
Several cars in varying degrees of disrepair were parked along the side of the building. The car closest to the street was little more than a corroded carcass. The one behind it, an old Volkswagen Beetle, was in better shape, yet still banged up. A newer red pickup truck followed behind the Beetle.
Between the front two cars, wearing his bright green and white Boston Celtics jacket, John examined the Volkswagen. I rushed toward him as Alexander turned the corner at the other end of the block.
Suddenly, Brenna flew up and landed on the top of the rusty frame. She stood with her back to me, hands balled into fists on her hips as she glared down.
"Not nice! Stop swatting!"
Sloan's purple head popped up from between the cars. She had opened her mouth to make a retort when she saw us approaching.
"You guys lose something?" she asked sarcastically.
&nbs
p; Alexander crossed the street. Lady came out from behind the pickup and rushed to greet him. He patted the top of her head but kept moving towards his father. Lady turned around and followed behind him.
John's expression lit up when he saw Alexander. "Steve, look at this. I found my next project," he said, pointing toward the car.
Alexander grimaced and sniffed angrily, trying to hold his emotions in check. This time, his frustration and worry got the best of him.
"Alexander, Dad. I'm Alexander," he snapped.
John's face fell. His brow creased and his eyes darted around as if he didn't recognize where he was or how he got there. His posture wilted.
"I've got to go. Neve and my boy will be waiting for me. Gotta get home now," he mumbled.
"Way to get him agitated," Sloan said, glaring at Alexander.
Alexander closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but his arms remained stiff. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again without saying anything, gazing off to the side. Sadness enveloped him.
"Mr. Mannus, why don't we get something to eat first? I'll let Neve know you're going to be late," I said, smiling sweetly to discourage any distrust in the addled man.
We walked back toward the shop, intending to have lunch at the café next door. Brenna fluttered to my shoulder and sat down, wearily leaning on my neck.
"Found bad girl, Tressie."
"Yes, Precious. Thank you."
"What the hell is that baby thing?" Sloan asked quietly as she walked beside me. "She's been at me for hours."
"Haven't you ever seen a Pixie before?" I asked. Sloan shook her head. "Brenna is a Pixie, but she isn't a baby, no matter how much she looks like one. I asked her to find you. We need to talk."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Alexander postponed his trip to New Jersey, deciding instead to take Sophia and his father back home to the estate. As I stood at the backdoor of the shop waving goodbye, a brown truck came down the alley and stopped in front of me.
The driver jumped out of the truck's cab. He loaded three cardboard boxes onto a hand truck and came toward me with a smile. I held the door for him as he pushed the boxes into the store and asked for my signature.
I pulled the tape from the top of the first box. "Sloan, come give me a hand," I called.
The girl came into the room, Lady by her side. The dog curled up on the floor, laying her head on her feet, and watched as I brought a stool up to the boxes to sit on while I unpacked them. I pulled away the bubble wrap and found the Belleek pottery Holly had ordered to prepare for St. Patrick's Day. The demand for Irish products inevitably grew around the holiday.
I unwrapped the first item, a nine-inch white plate hand-painted with a blessing and wispy vines of shamrocks, and inspected it for damage. It was in perfect condition, so I re-boxed it and handed it to Sloan.
"Put this on the third shelf over there, beside the pile of fabric," I instructed her. I went through the same routine two more times while I debated how to start the conversation. In the end, I decided to be blunt.
"Sloan, you're stealing from the town's merchants, and it has to stop," I said, handing her the next box to be shelved.
She glared at me, ignoring my outstretched hand. I shook the box. She grabbed it and plunked it on the shelf. She came back and stood before me with her hands on her hips.
"I told you—I'm not a thief."
I kept my silence, making my position clear as I inspected and passed her the rest of the pottery. When she had shelved the last box, I stared at her pointedly. Finally, she wilted under my gaze.
"I always ask before I take anything. Honest," she said with true conviction.
What was she doing when she asked for these things? I considered this as I opened the second box and discovered that it contained raw materials for Holly's purses.
"Mrs. Krauss next door doesn't recall you asking for her food. She says someone stole it." Sloan shrugged, but at least she had the decency to look abashed.
"It's not my fault if they don't remember giving things to me," she said.
"How exactly did you phrase the question?" I asked, allowing a bit of my anger to seep into my voice as I realized what she was doing. The girl looked at me warily, confused by my irritation.
"I just asked. I asked what her name was, I repeated it, and I asked her to give me the food… or whatever."
"Sloan, you're a smart girl—smart enough to know that those people weren't willingly giving you their things. Somewhere inside you, you knew what you were doing was wrong." I worked to keep my voice calm. She twisted her mouth and looked at the floor, refusing to meet my gaze. "So this will stop now. No more stealing. No more holding Dominion over people." She nodded, still not looking at me.
"Are you gonna call the cops on me?"
"Not this time. However, you will have to figure out how to make it up to the merchants around here."
Sloan opened the flaps on the third box to reveal printer toner and several reams of paper.
"Why are you always so nice to me? What's in it for you?"
"I believe you can do better, given the opportunity. Now put those things on the bottom shelf over there. We're going to my house." She shook her head briskly, her face going pale.
"No. I'm not going there. Call the cops; I'd rather go to jail."
ALEXANDER
"So you're telling me that Sloan is an Unseelie?" I asked, hands on hips, not quite believing what I was hearing.
We stood at the fieldstone entry gate to Pine Ridge Estate. Tressa had pulled her car onto the shoulder several yards down the road and then called me to meet her here. Sloan sat in the car, looking uncomfortable and staring into the woods that lined the estate. The big dog watched us from the back seat, with her pink tongue lolling from her mouth.
"Aye, that's what I'm saying."
I squinted at her, totally perplexed that she stood there calmly stating that this teenager—woman—whatever she was who had infiltrated our lives was one of our enemies.
"You will need to explain." I leaned sideways against the stone pillar on one side of the gate with my arms crossed in front of me.
"Well you have to admit, the evidence was mounting. She brightened each time I healed her, she has the pointed ears, she flitted here on the wind... but the thing that finally convinced me was the fact that she's been holding Dominion over people in town, getting them to give her things."
"Wait. She's been holding Dominion over people?" I repeated, shaking my head in disbelief.
Tressa always emphasized the immorality of holding Dominion over someone without due cause. At times the fae even considered it illegal, as Gilleagán's trial had proven. And yet here she stood, calmly telling me that this young girl had been frequently overriding other people's free will.
"Remember when she told us that she wasn't stealing? That everything she had people had given to her? Well, she was asking while holding Dominion over them. That's how she's been surviving."
"And the Unseelie part?"
"The wards are keeping her off the estate. That's why she wouldn't come in when I brought your father home. I think the first day she flitted here the wards repelled her. That's what she hit before she landed at the back wall of the store. She set off the security systems."
Everything she said made perfect sense, but she said it as if speaking about a wayward child. I shook my head again, astounded by her naiveté.
"The evidence certainly has been mounting. Tressa, think about it. She made an anonymous call to get us to New Jersey where an Unseelie fae attacked us. When that didn't work, she brought you back again and another Unseelie tried to kill my father and capture you to hand you over to Mór. And now we find out that her routine involves basically enslaving people to her will?"
I pushed off the pillar and walked away from Tressa, taking deep breaths in an attempt to assuage the anger building inside me. Before going far, I turned and went back.
"So, I'm confused. Why bring her here?" I asked, clipping m
y words. I glanced over to see the girl glaring back at me.
"I'm going to ask Shamus to adjust the wards to allow her to cross over them."
"Oh hell no. No you are not."
The tension rising in me threatened to explode in a blast of fury. The now familiar itch to grab the sword that hung between my shoulder blades returned, and this time the sensation was nearly overwhelming. I fisted my hands and stretched out my fingers, fighting the urge to strike the girl down.
Tressa reached out and touched my arm, which calmed the impulse for violence, but her pleading eyes somehow only made me angrier.
"We've spent nearly a year securing our home from the Unseelie. This girl is volatile. She's a product of the streets. She's a liar, a thief, and a probable conspirator with our enemies, and you want me to welcome her here? To trust her with you and with my daughter?"
"I can hear you, you know," Sloan yelled as she got out of the car and slammed the door shut. "I'm out of here. I'm not listening to this crap anymore and I'm not staying where I'm not welcome."
"Young lady, stay right there," Tressa demanded. "All these things he's saying are true. If you leave now that's all you will ever be. Stay here and fight to be better. You may not get another opportunity."
The girl stood glaring at Tressa defiantly. Then she kicked at the gravel that covered the shoulder of the road. She slumped against the car and turned her back to us.
"Tressa, I think your maternal instincts are in overdrive here and blocking your common sense."
"Xander, I understand what you're saying. I'm asking you to trust that I see something better in Sloan. Another thing we did this year was put our faith in the wrong people. Gilleagán was Seelie by birth, but he came to be Unseelie in his heart. There's every reason to believe the opposite can also be true. Sloan is a lost child who has never had the nurturing and education she deserves."
I walked away again to put some space between us while I thought about what she said. She had a point about Gilleagán, but did that mean I could trust the girl? After a moment's contemplation, I knew I couldn't take that leap. Not yet. The best I could do was to compromise.
Xander's Folly Page 14
