“Wow. That’s a lot for one night, especially if you include what went down with the sword.” He frowned. “I guess you’ll just have to let Menolly and Nerissa work things out on their own. There’s nothing you can do to help, sweetheart. And if you try, you’ll only end up getting them both mad at you.”
“I know—this is their stuff, and I can’t do a damned thing. But it got me to thinking about us. You don’t feel like I’m pulling away, do you? Because I haven’t asked to set a date for our wedding yet?” I hoped with all my heart this wouldn’t lead into a big blowup. But I knew Shade, and even when we argued, his responses were measured and level. He never yelled—not at me—and he had never once said anything that left me wondering whether he loved me.
This time was no exception. “We have time, Pussycat. We have plenty of time. I agree, now is not the time to even think of raising a child. I think the Autumn Lord knows that. I figure, we’re engaged. You don’t seem unhappy. I’m not unhappy. If I was, I’d say so. As long as we keep talking, and we love each other, I’m good. Whether we get married tomorrow, or in five years, I’m fine. I’m half-dragon, remember? We don’t always rush into things.”
As he laughed, I let out a long sigh of relief. “Then you aren’t mad that I’m not beating down the doors of Juanita’s Bridal Shop, looking for a dress?” It was the only shop that I could remember the name of that specialized in wedding gowns.
Shade snorted. “I figure, when you start talking tuxes and bows, then we can make all our plans. Until then, I’m just glad you’re with me.”
I eased over into the right lane, then turned onto Whipwillow Street, on which the Wayfarer was located. On the border of the Belles-Faire District and the Shoreline neighborhood, Menolly’s bar was in the middle of the block. Luckily, during the fire, the other buildings hadn’t been damaged other than being engulfed by some of the smoke. A few blocks over stood the Indigo Crescent and the Indigo Crescent Coffee Nook, Camille’s bookstore and coffee shop. I had taken over the second floor of the same building for my PI shop—Cat’s Eye Investigations.
For quite a while, I’d let my business languish, but as the war in Otherworld escalated, I’d felt the need to regroup and give myself something else to occupy my mind. So I’d renamed my business and set up semi-regular hours. I missed having Camille right downstairs as often as she had been, but Giselle—the demon who was running the joint for her—was friendly enough.
Added bonus: Nobody was likely to get past her like the freaks who’d blown up part of the bookstore, killing Henry Jeffries—one of Camille’s most loyal customers. Henry had bequeathed my sister the money to open the coffee shop, and she had installed a memorial plaque, commemorating him.
Camille had, as usual, managed to find a prime spot right in front of the bar. She had a direct line to the parking goddess. I eased into the next open space, about four car lengths ahead of her. Shade and I hoofed it down to the bar—Camille, Morio, and Roz had already gone inside.
They were standing by the bar, talking to Chase, waiting for us. Camille motioned me over. Derrick was there, and Peder as well. I stared up at the burly giant. He wasn’t huge as giants go, but giants were . . . well . . . giant, so he was still close to eight feet of solid muscle. Peder wasn’t all that bright, but he’d worked for the OIA for years, and Menolly liked him. She only talked to him sporadically, though, since he was the dayshift bouncer, and she didn’t get to the bar till evening.
Shade and I joined them. Camille glanced over at Derrick. “Tell them what you just told me.”
Derrick let out a grunt. “The door to the basement is normally locked from the inside. I ring the bell when I get here, and the guard comes to unlock it after I give him the code word. This morning, I found it ajar when I came in. I usually don’t get here till later but I needed to do inventory today, after last night’s party. At first I thought it had been pried open but when we looked at the security camera footage, it was obvious that it wasn’t.”
“What about Lucias? Is he okay?” Menolly hired guards to watch over the portal on a continual basis. Lucias had the evening weekend gig.
“Lucias is all right, but he was knocked out. The medic is down there now with him. He’s Earthside Fae, or he might have taken the attack worse for the wear. I went downstairs to check when I noticed the door, and called Chase. The safe room is open.”
Great. Just great. “Is the sword missing?”
“Yeah, it’s gone.” Derrick frowned. “Who knew it was stored there? I knew, and all of you. Since last night was Friday, Tavah and Frith were on duty. So they both knew. But they’re both vampires so they had to get back to their lairs. Now, here’s the thing. Lucias signed in this morning as usual, on the employee log. Frith and Tavah signed out. I don’t think we can suspect them in this.”
“You said camera footage. So Menolly installed a security camera when she had the bar retrofitted?”
Derrick nodded. “Yes. Somebody came into the bar—a man; Fae by the look of him. He couldn’t be a vampire in any case. So, he rang the bell just like I would. Now here’s the kicker—he should not have had the code word, and Lucias shouldn’t have opened the door, but he did. The man followed him downstairs. A short time later, he came back upstairs carrying something and headed out back.”
“Is there sound on the footage?”
“No, so we don’t know what he said to get Lucias to open up.”
I turned to Camille. “Did Daniel know where we put the sword?”
She shook her head. “No, he went home before we decided what to do.”
“Then we should figure that we were all being watched. Probably by whoever wanted the sword in the first place. The same whoever who ransacked Daniel’s apartment.”
Chase gestured toward the door. “Let’s go down. I decided to wait to question the guard until you got here, so he only has to tell his story once. The lump on his head is pretty nasty, but Mallen says he’ll be fine.”
We headed down to the basement. Even though the lower level had remained relatively undamaged in the fire, Menolly had asked the contractors to fully gut the old staircase and put in a new one, complete with solid railing, and better wiring. The lighting had been changed, and now the basement had three areas—stockroom, portal area, and the safe room.
The area surrounding the portal to Otherworld had been redone, though, of course, the portal itself hadn’t been touched. A desk and chairs for the guards were to the left. To the right, she had put a sofa, where visitors coming and going could wait. A Plexiglas cubicle had been built around the portal, so that the guards could see who was coming through. Menolly had also hired one of the local sorceresses to cast anti-magic spells inside the cubicle, meaning that nobody could gate in, toss off a destructive spell, and then immediately gate out.
The entry to the safe room was around the corner, opposite the entry to the stockroom. Neither door could be seen from the portal. The safe room had also been fitted with a magical punch code, a lot like a security lock. Which meant whoever had opened it had to have known the code. The door was impervious to force up to—and beyond—a demon’s capabilities. It was also a magically dampened area, meaning no magic would work within the confines of the room.
The guards were set up with one facing the door of the cubicle, and the other to one side. Anyone coming through the portal couldn’t take them both out by surprise. Theoretically, if both guards were at their proper stations, one would be out of range from immediate attack. Of course, we couldn’t account for the vagaries of having to go to the bathroom, or getting bored and wandering away from the post. There were always bound to be uncertainties. And right now, Lucias was working solo, so that made the whole situation a lot more problematic.
The guard was sitting on the love seat, ice pack pressed against the back of his neck.
“Before we talk to him, let’s have a look at the safe room.” I led th
e way around the corner. The door was, indeed, open, and when we looked inside, nothing had been disturbed except for the sword, which was nowhere to be seen. I knelt down to examine the lock. No breaks, no sign of forced entry. And this lock couldn’t be picked—at least not without a working knowledge of magic.
Standing, I crossed my arms, frowning at it. “Whoever it was had to use the code to get in. That’s the only thing I can think of.”
“Then we’re in trouble.” Camille glanced over her shoulder. “Because that means either Lucias voluntarily opened it, or he was charmed. And once again, the word ‘charmed’ enters into the picture. But we need to figure it out soon because the sword, running loose in the wild? So not a good thing.”
I nodded. She was right. Either our guard had been blindsided, or he was a traitor. And if it was the latter, then we had a lot bigger problems than just a renegade sword.
Chapter 7
After a thorough look around the safe room to make certain there wasn’t anybody hiding behind something, and to ascertain that nothing else had been stolen, we returned to the guard. Derrick had brought Lucias some water and had replenished his ice pack.
We pulled the desk chairs over to their side, and Camille and I sat down. Lucias was sporting a black eye as well as a lump on his head, and boy, did he looked pissed.
“Okay, tell us what happened.” I pulled out my notebook and pen.
Lucius muttered a curse as he tucked the fresh ice bag over the lump on the back of his neck. “The bell rang. It seemed early, but I thought Derrick just decided to get a head start on inventory. I asked for the code . . . ” He drifted off. “I remember asking for the code . . . and that’s the last thing I remember until Derrick found me and helped me up.”
Lucias groaned again, then suddenly leaned forward and vomited on the floor. Derrick took one look, and hurried to grab a towel. Mallen pushed in between us to examine him again.
“I think you have a mild concussion, after all. I want to take you back to the FH-CSI for examination. We’ll hold you for twenty-four hours to make certain there aren’t any other injuries.” The elfin medic motioned to one of his helpers and the man exited the basement, calling for a stretcher.
Lucias protested. “I don’t need—”
“I’ll decide what you need,” Mallen interrupted, pushing him back onto the sofa.
Just then, Chase turned as Yugi came down the stairs, calling him over. A moment later, they motioned us to join them, both of them pale. “Can Lucias manage to take a peek at the security files? To see if he recognizes the guy in the footage?”
“He’s pretty beat up but . . . ” I turned to the guard. “Do you think you’re able enough?”
“Hell yes. I want to find that fucker that sucker-punched me. Just get me up the stairs.”
Pulling me aside, Chase said, “We found something outside. We have a bigger problem on our hands than your missing sword.”
Uh-oh, this did not sound good. “What is it?”
“We found a body—he’s out back in the alley, with a broken neck. It’s the same man on tape. We need to ask Lucias if he recognizes him at all.”
“And the sword?”
“No sign of it.”
Camille and I followed them up the stairs, and Mallen had Lucias brought up on a gurney. He didn’t like it when Chase told him they’d need to take Lucias out back rather than bother with the security tape, but he went along to make certain Lucias didn’t faint.
By the time we stepped out the back door, into the alley, the area had been roped off with crime tape. The rain had let up, and it was chill and damp. Against a pile of broken-down boxes, behind one of the Dumpsters, was a body—a handsome young Fae man, who looked all too dead. Lucias stared down at him.
“Is this the man who attacked you?” Chase reached out to steady the guard but Mallen was quicker.
Lucias squinted again, against the light. Then he frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t . . . I honestly don’t remember anything after asking for the code. It could be. Maybe not. So . . . he’s the one on the tape who I opened the door for?”
I leaned against the brick, staring at the body. “Looks like that might be the case. When did you come on duty?”
Lucias shrugged. “I always get here around five, to make certain the vamps can have time to get home. In summer, maybe a little earlier. I do know that the man who attacked me showed up about twenty minutes after I did—which is why it seemed so odd to me. Derrick never comes in that early.”
“When did you show up, Derrick?”
Derrick glanced at his watch. “I came in around nine. That’s when I noticed the door to the basement was open.”
“So Lucias was out about three hours? Give or take a few? That’s a long time to be unconscious.” Camille frowned.
“Not all physical—though, as I said, I think he has a concussion. I sense the presence of Compelling Powder, which can lead to a nasty hangover and memory loss.” Mallen rubbed his chin. “If Derrick hadn’t brought him around, he probably would have been out another hour or two by my estimation.”
I grimaced as Mallen’s techs led Lucias back to the stretcher and trundled him out to the waiting ambulance. A thought occurred to me.
I motioned to Camille. “Whoever it was used Compelling Powder. Is there a way to track an energy signature from the use of magic? And can you tell if any Demonkin were involved? You can sense them. Maybe this was . . . you-know-who’s doing.”
I didn’t want to come out and talk about Shadow Wing in front of the others, but we couldn’t discount the chance. He’d been quiet, at least Earthside, for the past couple of months, but we had been warned he was sending new personnel our way, even as his general Telazhar tore a path through Otherworld.
Camille shrugged. “Can’t hurt to give it a try. Let’s head back to the basement.”
Once we were there, she gestured for us to move back, then settled herself in one of the chairs and held her arms out to her sides, palms up. A familiar prickling crept up my neck. I was so used to the feel of her magic by this point that I could tell when she was running it, and right now she’d called it in big time.
The more she worked with Morio and the more she worked with Aeval and the ES Fae Queen Courts, the more powerful she seemed to be growing. Though her Moon Magic still blew up on her at times, she’d found ways to circumvent some of the worst of the backlashes. Although the hail of slugs and frogs a few weeks ago proved she hadn’t fully outgrown the half-human problem.
The energy around her spiraled; it was visible in a shower of purple and silver sparkles. At one point, she dropped her head back, and her eyes rolled up in the sockets. The next she let out a slow breath and lowered her hands.
“Whoever it was, I don’t think he, himself, is magical. He just used the powder to subdue Lucias and force him to hand over the code to the safe room. No Demonkin, though.” She shrugged. “That’s the best I can do. Sorry.” Then, she paused. “I have felt this before—recently. Hell, Daniel—his aura had the same feel to it. I bet somebody used Compelling Powder on him, too.”
Chase leaned on the desk, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface. “So someone stole this sword you had locked up, after injuring Lucias. Just how powerful is this blade? Why do they want it?”
Camille gave him a long look. “We need to fill you in on what we know, but not right here. At this point, we don’t know who might want it. But . . . I think we know why. Or at least, one of the major reasons. At first, I thought one of the guardian ghosts may have been up to the theft, but after what we saw—I don’t think so now. Ghosts don’t usually use spell powders either.”
“That sword has gone from a conundrum to a problem child.” I shuddered. The thought of Einar den Blodige gaining his freedom to rampage around Seattle in a host body was freaking scary.
“Are you
okay, Kitten?” Chase usually didn’t call me that anymore, but the look on his face told me he could read my mood and was trying to be helpful.
“I’m just thinking . . .” Shaking my head, I gave him a helpless shrug. “It goes on and on, doesn’t it? It’s never going to stop.”
He reached out and companionably took my hand, squeezing it tight. “It will be all right. It has to be all right.” After a moment, he let out a long sigh and straightened up. “There’s not much more I can do here. My men will clean up out back and I’ll let you know what we find out. I can try to get a match on the face of the man we found out back. Meanwhile, I have to get back to the station. Call me later.”
Camille, Derrick, and I were left alone in the basement. Shade, Morio, and Roz were upstairs. The portal glowed, humming away. Just being near it made me nervous for some reason. Usually, I didn’t mind. After all, we were used to them. But now? Alone in an enclosed basement near one? What would happen if a troll happened to pop through? It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility—it actually occurred now and then. Or what if Telazhar managed to elude the guards in Y’Elestrial and show up here?
“My imagination is getting away with me,” I said, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Camille motioned to Derrick. “Who knows the routine at the bar? Who knows what times the portal guards change shifts? Who even knows about them?”
I glanced at her. “Do you think somebody has been casing the place?”
Camille sat down on the love seat. “Maybe, but I definitely think whoever has been using Daniel figured out he’s connected to us. I think they followed him last night and before they could do anything, they saw us take the sword. But Smoky brought it here through the Ionyc Seas. That means, in order to know about it, they’d have to have been . . .”
Panther Prowling Page 11
