The Ryu Morgue (A Jane True Short Story) (Trueniverse Book 2)

by Nicole Peeler

  “It is, yes,” Ryu said. “I want to try something, but I understand if you don’t trust me.” And why you’ll probably try to kill me for asking, he thought.

  “What is it you want to do?” Maeve asked, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.

  “When the wine comes, I want to try magicking them. We haven’t found any spells on the objects around town, but maybe it wasn’t the objects. Maybe there is a way to make wine hold a spell.”

  Maeve cocked a head at him, her forehead crinkling in thought. “But there are ways to spell combustibles. We all know that...it’s where the myths regarding not eating or drinking in faerie come from. Also fairy tales like Snow White. And mythology, like Persephone’s pomegranate.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” said Ryu, “but that sort of magic is done in the exchange. It’s not that you can’t spell food or liquid, it’s that the spell is extremely ephemeral. And usually it works more through the act of handing something over.” Ryu picked up his knife, using it to gesture at Maeve. “Here, take this.”

  She did, her slender white fingers reaching toward it.

  “Say this is spelled, and not a knife. Say it’s an apple, as in your earlier example. I hand it to you thusly...” He gave her the knife, and as he did so, his fingers brushed against her hand. She shivered. “That’s the moment I really enact the spell. When you eat the apple, that’s when the spell is activated. But the spell wasn’t in the food.”

  “But surely not every food was directly passed to the person,” Maeve said, setting his knife down before fidgeting with her collar using the hand he’d just touched. “What about people finding things in faerie and eating them?”

  “Probably glamoured to believe they found the food in question and weren’t handed it. Or,” Ryu nodded at the knife, “we’re wrong and there is a way to spell food in a way that lingers.”

  “But you’d know of such a thing already.” Maeve stopped talking as the waiter approached, setting down the two flights of wine, the glasses sparkling in the reflected fairy lights. She watched him walk away and then returned her gaze to Ryu. “There’s no way you wouldn’t have been spelling food already, if you could do it.”

  He picked up one of the glassed of red, giving it a swirl and nosing it appreciatively. His eyes closed in pleasure, and when he opened them again Maeve’s hand, resting on the table, was now curled in a fist.

  “I wasn’t entirely accurate before,” he admitted. “You can spell food. Watch.” He raised the glass with his right hand, using his left hand to caress the lip of the rim. A faint blue sparkle traveled down through to the wine where it shivered, blending with the red...and then disappeared.

  “You can spell it, but it doesn’t stay,” he said. “We can spell objects, but food is too ephemeral—full of bacteria. It’s too alive to spell like a dead object and too dead to glamour like a living creature. It shakes off the spell.

  “Besides,” he said, watching the waiter approach with an epic platter of meats and cheeses, “we’re mostly not that evil.” The waiter put down the platter, asked if they needed anything else, and then sauntered off. Ryu looked back at Maeve. “Most of us would be no more desirous of spelling food and leaving it lying about than a human would be of poisoning Twix bars and placing them around a city.”

  Maeve ducked her head, her cheeks blooming crimson. Ryu, however, wasn’t sure if it was shame, anger, or both.

  He didn’t push her, but helped himself to some Humboldt Fog. It was delicious, as usual. When she looked up, she reached casually for her fork and speared a slice of prosciutto.

  “So what is it that you want to do?” she asked him.

  “I want to try really spelling this wine,” he said. “Nothing dangerous or embarrassing. Only a really simple compulsion...maybe to sing or something.”

  “You’ve never heard me sing,” Maeve said, her lips curling in the slightest of smiles. “It’s both dangerous and embarrassing.”

  Ryu’s laughter surprised even him, a short, sharp bark. He grinned at her. “Okay, do you have a different preference?”

  “What about a compulsion to get up and leave the room?”

  He nodded. “That will work. But it’ll still be magic. Do you trust me?”

  Maeve peered down at her lap, plucking at her napkin. “I think this is important. I think that if someone were to charm anything in Napa, the most obvious thing would be the wine. And we have a bunch of people dead and the only thing they have in common is visiting Napa. So...we should do this.

  “And I trust you,” she added, with the faintest of pauses.

  Ryu smiled, but without humor. “No, you don’t. Not really. But you do think this is important. As for me, I would never hurt my partner, and I trust myself. So...ready?”

  Maeve nodded, her lips compressing into a thin red line. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  TEN

  Maeve watched Ryu’s magic trickle through the wine, and she tried to stifle her sense of wonder. Yes, this was magic, but real magic wasn’t the Disney kind she’d believed in as a child. It was the murderous, awful kind she’d become aware of the night her childhood ended.

  He sat the wine glass down, staring at it intently. “I don’t sense anything. But maybe it lingers?” He glanced up at Maeve. “This is where you come in. Do you mind?”

  She shook her head, willing her hand steady as she reached toward the glass. She sniffed it, but all she smelled was the rich, musky tannins. She sipped hesitantly, but drank deeper when she felt nothing. And because Ryu was making a “bottoms up” gesture. When she’d finished, grateful that a flight pour was only a quarter of the glass, she set it down and they waited.

  “Anything?”

  She let her mind wander, but the only place it went was to how delicious the wine had been, not to wanting to leave the patio.

  “No, sorry,” she said. He picked up a second glass. Again, she watched as the magic sparkled through the liquor, only to vanish after a few seconds.

  He handed her the glass and she quaffed it in one. They waited. She shook her head.

  “Nothing.”

  Ryu sighed, reaching for a white. “Let’s try this...”

  “I’m glad these are short pours,” said Maeve. “Otherwise, the only magic worked would be wine magic—the kind that makes nice ladies dance on tables.”

  Ryu grinned up at her, his teeth white and perfect, the canines sharp. She reminded herself he was a vampire.

  “While that is a form of magic, it’s not what we’re looking for.” Ryu concentrated, and this time the magic was red and it lingered longer before evaporating. But still, when she drank, nothing happened.

  “Okay, I have a few more tricks up my sleeve...”

  Three small glasses of white wine later, the flights were empty and they hadn’t gotten any closer to figuring out the mystery. Ryu had concluded that no magic he could do would survive in a liquid. Maeve had gotten closer to a wonderful buzz, however.

  “You took one for the team,” Ryu said, watching as she dug into the bread that came with the charcuterie.

  “It was a delicious sacrifice,” Maeve confirmed. “But if I don’t get something in my stomach, I’m going to start giggling. Which means I’m officially tipsy.”

  “Meanwhile, I need to catch up.” Ryu made a gesture in the air, and a few minutes later the waiter returned to the courtyard.

  “Sir?”

  Ryu ordered the bottle of Merlot he’d decided on earlier, the one that Maeve had commented on as being very nice. The waiter nodded and left.

  “How did he know to come?” Maeve said, trying to keep her voice neutral.

  “Magic. But before you wig out, we do that particular trick with our own kind too. It’s not a command to serve us, just the magical equivalent of raising a hand.”

  “Oh,” said Maeve.

  “Like I said, we’re not always dicks.” Ryu didn’t sound angry when he said it, just matter of fact. Then he took a sip of his
wine, savoring it.

  “No, but I think you’re used to getting your way,” Maeve said, “I am dining with royalty, after all. Aren’t you a Monarch, too?”

  Ryu snorted. “Yes and no. I’m one of two elected leaders of my territory. But the emphasis is on elected. We’re not Alfar, and outside of our territory everyone thinks we’re nuts at best or heretics at worst.”

  “But you’ve been working at the Initiative for at least a year. What about your people?”

  “I have a very capable co-Monarch. And I have my own staff on the ground in case she loses her damned mind, which I’m glad to say hasn’t happened.”

  “Co-Monarch…like your Queen?”

  “Oh, gods no. She’s my cousin. And formerly a complete menace to society—both human and supernatural. But she’s turned out to be far less monstrous when given actual power...we were all shocked.”

  “Huh. So, no Queen then?” Maeve was curious about how supernatural society worked, she told herself. Not about Ryu’s personal life, per se.

  “No, no Queen.” Ryu fiddled with his silverware, then poked at the little dish of olives with his fork. “There was someone who I thought would be. Not my Queen, but my partner. Like, life partner, not partner-partner. Anyway, it didn’t work out.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did something happen to her?”

  “Another man,” Ryu said as the waiter approached with the bottle of Merlot. Maeve watched Ryu interact with the human—scanning the bottle, tasting before nodding it was acceptable, thanking him. She accepted her own glass with a polite nod.

  “As I was saying,” Ryu said when the waiter had left, “she broke up with me. She wanted different things, but I didn’t understand that at the time. I thought I could win her back, but it was too late. She’d met someone. They have children now.”

  “Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” Maeve sipped her own wine, feeling her brow knit in consternation.

  “Thank you. But it was probably for the best.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, Jane is wonderful, in a lot of ways. But I wasn’t what she needed. She’s better off now than she would have been with me.”

  “That’s very magnanimous of you,” Maeve said, carefully sipping her wine. She could feel the wine she’d already consumed buzzing in her veins—not with magic, with its normal powers. Flights might have less volume per glass, but she’d consumed two entire flights by herself.

  Ryu smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. “I learned a lot about myself too. So it wasn’t all doom and gloom.”

  “What did you learn?” He looked up at her, and she held up a hand. “Sorry. That was invasive. You don’t have to answer.”

  He sipped from his own glass. When he set it down, he settled his hands on the table, palms down, as if bracing himself. “No, it’s fine. I guess I learned that I do enjoy being in that kind of relationship. You know my nature…I mean, that I’m a baobhan sith...”

  She nodded, her mouth gone suddenly dry. Had she managed to convince herself he was human? Or, if not human, something magical but not a vampire?

  “Well, we’re not known for our fidelity, for obvious reasons. We have to feed, of course. And we tell ourselves that doesn’t mean anything, but feeding regulates our lives. So of course it means something.

  “With Jane, I saw a way I could be faithful. And for the first time I understood why we use that word, in that context. I wanted to honor her, to have faith in her and enjoy her faith in me. I loved her very much.” He fell silent, toying with the stem of his glass. Maeve watched, not speaking, ‘til he continued. “I only realized later that part of what I fell in love with wasn’t the real Jane, it was the Jane who gave me this fantasy of fidelity. I guess I fell a little bit in love with who I could be, being with her. Anyway, you probably think I sound like an idiot. And I think I was, a bit. I guess love makes us all into idiots.”

  “That’s very insightful,” Maeve said, her mouth pursing as she studied him. For a split second, she felt like she was seeing him for the first time. But that was undoubtedly the wine talking.

  Ryu held up his hands, warding off the compliment. “It was unfair to Jane, of course. She wanted someone who saw her as she was really was, who understood what she wanted out of life. I saw who we could be together, who I could be with her. I didn’t think about her. Not really. So, she left me.”

  “Wow,” said Maeve, when Ryu had made it clear he’d said his piece on the subject. “That’s a lot to learn from one relationship.”

  Ryu laughed, one of his short, sharp barks that held little humor. “Yes. Yes, it is. But I managed to not learn quite a bit for a very long time, so it was overdue.”

  “Do you miss her?”

  “I do,” he said. “Or at least, I did. For a while. Now that I sort of figured things out, I don’t miss her, really. But I do miss…us, I guess. I miss being in that sort of a relationship.”

  Maeve’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “I didn’t expect you, of all people, to say something like that.”

  “My reputation precedes me, I’m assuming.” He raised his glass to her in an ironic toast. “Yes, well, don’t tell anyone. What happens in Napa stays in Napa.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “You got it.” Her words ended on a shiver. The night had gotten cold. She pulled the thin material of her jacket tighter, wishing she’d brought a warmer coat. Ryu nodded at her bag.

  “You still have the shawl, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I thought we were going to check it out more?”

  “Hand the whole thing over.”

  She did as he’d asked, handing him her oversized purse. He pulled the folded shawl out of it, his brow furrowing in concentration as he held the thing with both hands. After what felt like ages, and was probably a good five minutes, he shook his head.

  “I can’t feel a trace of magic on it. And you’re obviously freezing.”

  He handed her the black and white material, and she wrapped it around her neck and shoulders gratefully. It made all the difference, and she felt suddenly warm and safe.

  Ryu started talking about tomorrow. About what they’d do, for the investigation.

  She watched his lips moving. They suddenly seemed very red to her, in the dim light. Ruby red.

  Like blood.

  And his teeth glinted, so white in the sparkling light of the courtyard. But of course they gleamed. They were fangs.

  The fangs of the thing that killed her mother.

  He was a vampire.

  Vampires had to die.

  She knew she had weapons. Guns and knives and all sorts of things to maim and kill. But they weren’t with her, not tonight. Not when they were off duty, and going to a place where they’d be drinking.

  Steak knife. It had come with the plate of charcuterie, to help them cut the sausage. She picked it up, then looked at her enemy.

  He sat, telling her how he planned to rape and then murder her, and then to murder everyone in the restaurant. Blood dripped from his wide red mouth, pouring onto the table. It filled the wine glasses, the blood of innocents he’d slaughtered and brought for his feast.

  “Maeve,” she heard. “Are you all right?”

  Maeve looked at the vampire. He had to die.

  She lunged at his throat.

  ELEVEN

  Ryu shoved his chair over, sending it crashing it to the ground as he rolled out of it and onto his feet. Maeve, moving with preternatural speed, missed his throat by millimeters.

  “Murderer!” she cried, shoving the entire wrought iron table so that it crashed against the stone wall. She raised the knife between them, snarling like an animal.

  “About that shawl,” he drawled, affecting calm he didn’t feel.

  “Murderer!” she repeated, darting toward him. He’d already automatically sent out a No Go glamour, repelling any human involvement, but he bolstered it when he realized Maeve was serious.

  Or seriously magicked.

  His mind racing, he ju
mped back again. As her arm holding the knife withdrew from her strike, he did his own lunging, trying to nab the shawl wrapped tightly around her neck. Too tightly, he noticed. It was hugging her, moving with her, rather than flopping around like a normal shawl.

  How had he missed that much mojo?

  She ducked away from him, one arm shielding the shawl protectively as she stabbed again with the knife. She was fast enough to nick his bicep, much faster than she should have been, if not fast enough to really be a match for him.

  But that was where the danger lay, he realized. The magic made her dangerous enough that deadly force might be necessary to protect whomever she attacked.

  He backed away from her as she prepared for another strike, holding his hands up in supplication. “Maeve. This isn’t you. It’s the shawl. You have to fight it, Maeve.”

  She stopped and blinked at her name, which he’d used on purpose. He had to get through whatever hold Pai’s knitting had on her. Maeve blinked a second time, shaking her head slightly.

  “Murderer!” She lunged again, this time running at him like they were playing football.

  He dodged her, trying again to reach her. “I’m not a murderer, Maeve.” At least I haven’t been for a while, he thought. “You’re not yourself.”

  “Liar!” she shouted, her face contorted with rage as the shawl undulated around her throat. “You killed her! I saw you!”

  This time, when she lunged, he struck out with his left arm, hitting her wrist with enough force to disarm her. The knife clattered to the ground even as her other hand clawed at his face, her nails raking viciously down his cheek and jaw. He ignored the pain, grabbing both hands and shoving her over onto her back.

  She hit the ground hard, her head smacking against the paving stones with an audible thunk. He winced at the sound, but she appeared unaffected, fighting him like a banshee hopped up on meth. Standing over her, he made a desperate bid for the shawl. She used the hand he’d freed to punch him squarely in the Adam’s apple. Tears popped into his eyes as his breath faltered, pain blistering his senses. He jumped on top of her, pinning her with his weight for as long as it took him to grab both of her wrists. As he manhandled them into his left hand, he raised his chest off hers, just enough to make another attempt for the shawl.