Grand Theft Griffin

by Michael Angel

  “Jesus,” I breathed. “Have you been getting any sleep at all?”

  “Some. But I just can’t…it just ain’t restful at all. That’s the ‘more’ I meant. It’s not about the department, it just has something to do with you.”

  My mouth went dry, sour tasting.

  “With me,” I repeated stupidly. “What do you mean?”

  Her voice took on a dejected tone. “I keep havin’ variations of the same dream, over and over again. You’re in most all of them. There’s a big black horse there, too. And a beautiful little reindeer fawn. Or a calf with antlers glued to its head, going ‘moo’.”

  Her voice dropped another notch as she continued. “It’s like I’m back at my old vet clinic or something. You’ve brought them in to see me, and I’m going ‘round in circles trying to keep them from dying. Only it’s me that’s dying, because I can’t figure out what’s wrong with anything, and you refuse to tell me. And then, like he’s been summoned out of thin air by the Devil himself, you know who shows up?”

  Before I could say anything there was a rap at the door. Before I could yell ‘go away!’ or tell Shelly to ignore it, she turned in her chair, grabbed the knob, and twisted it. She actually jumped to her feet and let out a scared little squeak as the door swung open.

  Robert McClatchy stood in the doorway.

  His face twisted into an unpleasant smirk. “Don’t get up on my account.”

  Flustered beyond anything I’d ever seen from her, Shelly’s voice shook like she was going through puberty all over again. “‘Scuse me. Got work to do. Lots of work down on the slab. In the lab. That’s…that’s where I work, after all.” She threw me a desperate look. “I…I have to go now, Dayna.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, trying to sound as calm and reassuring as I could. “Take it easy, Shelly. We’ll talk soon. I’m sure I can help puzzle things out.”

  She nodded, and then all but ran down the hallway back to her office. McClatchy watched her go, a mild look of contempt on his face. Unlike Shelly, McClatchy looked like he’d been busy working out, eating right, and getting his beauty rest.

  Though he still had a hefty build, he’d lost at least ten pounds of fat from his midsection and upgraded his ill-fitting pinstripe to something dark gray and Italian. As a matter of fact, someone had changed his haircut to a neat 1920’s style high-and-tight. It made him look like a beefier version of Elliot Ness, which certainly didn’t hurt someone who worked in law enforcement.

  McClatchy pointedly left the door open and took the seat that Shelly had just vacated.

  “Not sure what put a bee in her bonnet,” he remarked, as his eyes roved over the open manila folder that Shelly had left on my desk. “I suppose it could be what you two were talking about. Your name certainly gets around, doesn’t it?”

  My voice went all Ms. Frigid Bitch without any conscious effort.

  “What do you want, Bob? I wasn’t planning on inviting you into my workspace anytime soon.”

  “I wanted you to be the first to know: I’ve just filed paperwork to run for Chief of Police.” He smiled, and that chilled me more than coming face-to-face with Belladonna’s insanity. “I’ve got to convince the Mayor, the Police Commission, and the City Council to appoint me, but one way or another, the LAPD will eventually see the light.”

  “I suppose congratulations are in order somewhere. Don’t let me stop you in your search for that place, because it’s nowhere near here.”

  “Oh, don’t be like that,” he chided. “I’m actually the best friend you have in either the LAPD or the OME. And it’s a genuine thing, too. I’ve already got my support lined up, so go ahead and support the other guys or gals who decide to run. I know what I’m going to be doing already when it comes to this week.”

  “And that is?”

  McClatchy scooped up Shelly’s folder. He leafed through the auditor’s paperwork on my questionably contaminated lab results, my probation report, my request for fewer hours, and my inability to identify Connor McCloud. He closed it and turned the folder sideways. In one swift, strong move he tore the entire packet in two and deep-sixed it into the wastebasket at the side of my desk.

  “I’m shutting the auditor’s work down and having her review a different subdivision,” he explained. “You’ll get the hours you requested, and no one’s going to ask about your commitments. You’re keeping your job and your field privileges with the OME, no questions asked. I already have enough pull around here to make sure that happens.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”

  Again with the unnerving smile. “Because of what the voices in my head have been telling me. Because of the visions I’ve been seeing whenever I close my eyes.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking–”

  “Oh, but you do! I know that I have a destiny now, a grander purpose. And you are part of it. Something tells me that you need to be here, to see it all. After all, my gut tells me that you’re the one who moved me onto this path in the first place.”

  The sinking feeling I’d felt when Shelly told me about her dreams were suffocating now. I choked out a reply, trying to stay smart, focused.

  “I didn’t know you liked me, Bob.”

  “Like you?” McClatchy got up, went to the door, and looked back over his shoulder as he spoke. “No, I don’t ‘like’ you. All I need you for is to witness my rise to glory. And once I get what I want? I’ll pick my own time to burn all that you love to ashes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Morning again. My stomach went through the usual ‘can we get off the carnival ride now?’ complaints as I arrived in a white flash at the border of the griffin aerie. Shaw interposed his warm furry body between me and the ground as I stumbled and almost fell.

  “Definitely need to talk to Galen about improving this spell,” I groused, as I pulled myself upright and shifted my backpack to a more comfortable position. “Maybe I can ask someone at the aerie to deliver a letter by airmail.”

  “Alas, ‘tis a subject that shall have to bide yet,” Shaw said, his voice tense. “Something more serious takes place today, and I fear it bodes ill!”

  So what else is new in my life? I thought. But I managed to restrict it to my inside voice as Shaw had me mount up. He took off, flying directly towards the aerie like he’d been shot from a cannon. My stomach threatened to evict anything I’d downed in the past hour, so I closed my eyes and focused on breathing before I said anything.

  “That doesn’t sound good. Where are you taking me?”

  “The Lair of the Elders.”

  My heart decided to join my stomach in an all-you-can-weep pity party at the news.

  “Great. What does Belladonna think I’ve done this time?”

  “None but what thou wishes her to believe. She has not requested for thee to appear before the Council of the Elders.”

  “Who, then?”

  “My daughter, Hollyhock.”

  That made me feel even more apprehensive. Why would Holly call me out in front of the Elders? Then it hit me: she was acting on my last words to her at the Rites of the Autumn Winds.

  Cross your talons for luck, I had said. I should have what I need for us to deal with Thundercrack and the Valkir Pride by then.

  Shaw rounded the very tip of the aerie and banked sharply to land in a flurry of wing beats. We made our way through the maze of cracks and rills in the mass of stone until we arrived in the semi-underground cavern that made up the Elders’ Lair. Six of the council, including Elder Ulrik, waited uncomfortably in silence while Belladonna spoke to the three lance leaders of the Reyka Pride: Ironwood, Blackthorn, and Hollyhock. I tried to read their moods, but they had returned to the statue-stern default griffin expression.

  “Eldest,” Ironwood announced, as soon as he could get a word in edgewise, “Dayna Chrissie of the Land of the Angels has arrived.”

  “Eh?” The High Elder’s earrings clinked as she raised her head to spot me. “Well met, then.
At least one of thy parties has chosen to show their face!”

  “Here comes the other,” Holly said, motioning with a half-unfurled wing.

  Thundercrack’s massive frame filled one of the main entrances to the Lair. He was flanked by the last two Elders, who shoved him forward into the chamber. The larger griffin came close to sprawling on the floor. He caught himself, then froze as he spotted Shaw’s trio of True Born offspring.

  “And so the second of thy parties chooses to arrive,” Belladonna observed. The languid composure she had shown during the Autumn Rites was completely gone. Today, she held herself tight, like a venom-tipped spring. “That is good. Those who stretch their necks out are welcome. If needed, the chopping becomes easier.”

  Next to me, Shaw shifted apprehensively. My unease grew.

  Thundercrack looked around. When he found his voice, it was gruff but uncertain.

  “I greet thee with respect, High Eldest. Yet, I do not understand why thou hast chosen to summon me into thy presence whilst under guard.”

  “Pray do not try to flatter me by speaking in the Old Speech,” the Eldest said disdainfully. “Thou art a member of the newly hatched generation, one which has forsaken both the Old Speech and Old Way of Names.”

  Abruptly, I realized what Belladonna was talking about. It was readily apparent that the later generations of griffins were dropping archaic words like ‘thy’ and ‘thee’ from their speech. But I’d missed the second, equally drastic change. Almost all of the older griffins had names that were vaguely Norse or even Viking-like. In contrast, most of the younger ones had names based on nature – such as Blackthorn, Cloudburst, Linden, Thundercrack, or Hollyhock. Perhaps it also explained why Belladonna herself appeared to be younger than many on her own council.

  “I am sorry, Eldest. I only seek to serve.”

  Belladonna turned away in a huff. Whether that gesture was affected or not, Elder Ulrik stepped up and spoke in her place.

  “Thundercrack of the Valkir Pride,” he intoned. “We have summoned you for questioning. We have received reports about your activities that disturb us greatly.”

  “Such as?”

  “We have heard that you have spoken long and at length against our people’s service to the Andeluvian king.”

  “That you called me here for? Old news, Elder one. I doubt that this could disturb even the High Elder’s sleep.”

  “We have heard that you have spoken long and at length that our Council should be abolished and filled with new voices.”

  The large griffin’s glance flicked fearfully over towards Shaw’s children. “I have said that the young should have more say, more power. That we should open ourselves to new ideas. This is no crime.”

  “We have heard that you have spoken long and at length that if we shall not step down, that you will take our place. Over our lifeless and skinned bodies.”

  Thundercrack’s eyes went wide. “What am I being accused of?”

  “Dayna Chrissie might be able to shed some light on the subject,” Hollyhock stated. She beckoned me to come forward with the wave of a lion paw. “I have spoken to the High Elder and told her that you seek to do more than simply subvert our people.”

  I had lots of misgivings, but I had no choice but to speak. Belladonna had, in her twisted way, given Holly a position of trust in watching over me. If I backed out now, then I’d undermine Holly at the moment she needed me the most, and throw who-knows-how-many knots into my ability to work with the griffins.

  “Council, High Elder,” I said, stepping forward with a bow. “Aside from looking at your warriors’ health, I came here to solve a mystery: which griffin of the Reykajar Aerie could have stolen something from my world. A rare set of crystals, which I fear could be used in Andeluvia for some foul purpose.”

  Belladonna’s eyes narrowed. “And why would such as thee, a purveyor of such evil, seek to expose such to me?”

  I caught myself before I rolled my eyes.

  “Well,” I reasoned, “Someone as evil as I might wish to throw you off my track in some manner, make you think that you had won a victory.”

  “Too true! Too true! The master might sacrifice the apprentice to throw off the scent of the hunt. Well met, outworlder: I shall take thy bait. Explain yourself!”

  “About two weeks ago, a griffin arrived in my world and broke into a museum,” I began. “That’s a building in which objects of cultural interest are stored and shown to visitors. I recently received proof that the griffin in question had green feathers along his wings. I’ve seen every warrior in this aerie in the course of my examinations – and there is only one with even a hint of that color in their plumage: Lance Captain Thundercrack of the Valkir Pride.”

  Immediately, the Elders broke into concerned or excited whispers. Thundercrack bristled and took a few steps towards me, his eyes burning. His voice crackled with rage.

  “You would dare dishonor me! Your tricks and schemes have gone too far, outworlder, and I will have no more of it!”

  “Stop him!” Hollyhock shouted. “He’s going to murder Andeluvia’s envoy!”

  In a flash, her two siblings leapt into action. Ironwood landed on the Valkir captain’s back, sinking his beak deep into the drake’s flesh. Blackthorn’s forepaws came up to grapple with Thundercrack’s. The two wrestled with each other, biting and snapping.

  The big Valkir howled with pain, arching his back and throwing the Reyka captain for a second. Blackthorn seized the moment to pin the larger griffin on his side. He dug his talons up against the drake’s throat. Holly darted in and swiped a paw across Thundercrack’s neck. She came away with a small object in her clenched fist.

  “What is this, Lance Captain?” she demanded. And she held the object up to the light: a shard of perfectly clear crystal as long as my thumb. “Is this part of the magic you used in our pride-spar to stun my warriors?”

  Thundercrack’s voice was a croak against Blackthorn’s deadly grip. “We needed magic to foil your martial art!”

  “As I thought. I have listened to your boasts too many times. About how you want all on the Council dead, and that you would stoop to magic to do it! You are a traitor to our kind!”

  “Listened to my boasts? You call me a traitor? You lie!”

  Thundercrack lunged forward, breaking Blackthorn’s hold. He shouldered past Ironwood like a fur-covered freight train. He headed straight for Shaw’s daughter. A murderous scream issued from his beak.

  The drake’s sheer mass bowled Holly over, but she had anticipated this move. She grabbed his talons in hers as they grappled, rolling with his impact onto her back. She pistoned her rear legs against his belly, pushing him up and off, completely flipping the Valkir captain head-over-talons.

  Thundercrack landed on one of the cavern’s needle-sharp stalagmites. Five feet of razor-edged stone punched through the middle of his back. The impact was followed by a fleshy slithering sound as his own weight drove the point deeper. The drake wriggled like a worm impaled on a hook. His screams turned into a fading teakettle whistle as the bloody point erupted from his chest like a monster from horror movie.

  Oh, God!

  I rushed forward with a cry, heedless of the stares I received from the other griffins. I didn’t know what I could do, but I couldn’t stand by and see the drake suffer.

  I shouldn’t have worried.

  Though I tried for a solid minute, I never found a heartbeat. Thundercrack had died almost instantly when the stone shard ripped through the muscle tissue of his heart. I sat next to the Lance Captain’s body, feeling drained and too shaky to rise. There was a soft sound as someone moved to stand at my side.

  High Elder Belladonna looked down at me with an expression of contempt.

  “Thou art a fine actress, dark one,” she said. “But this sacrifice means little to me. The death of thy minion shall seem peaceful and easy compared to what lies in the future. When thy true aim is revealed to all.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

&nb
sp; I couldn’t sleep.

  I threw back the sheets on my bed, flicked on the bedside lamp, and checked the time. It was the witching hour, if the witches in question had a timepiece that ran a few minutes fast. With a groan, I turned back to looking at the mashed-potato texture of the ceiling.

  After what had taken place at the Lair of the Elders, I hadn’t felt like remaining at the aerie for the rest of the day. I’d watched as Ulrik called in a lance of warriors from the Korlson Pride to remove the Lance Captain’s body, and then to act as liaison between him and the rest of the Valkir. Apparently, no one wanted this to blow up into a full-scale feud between the Reyka and Valkir Prides.

  The Korlson griffins had brought along an Andeluvian training weapon called a ‘billhook’. The item was simply a sharply curved hook at the end of a long wooden spear. They jammed the hook’s point into a space by Thundercrack’s shoulder and used it to drag his body off like a freshly slaughtered Brahma bull.

  I got up and padded barefoot out to the kitchen for something to eat or drink. As luck would have it, I had a piece of raw liver sitting in the fridge on the shelf below a clear pitcher full of blood-red cranberry juice. I averted my eyes and grabbed a bottle of iced tea instead.

  I’d gone to bed early, so I wasn’t really bleary-eyed. Then again, I’d had that damned dream again. It didn’t leap to mind as clearly as the ones before, but I did recall bits of it. Specifically, the part where I spun around in a field of cornflowers like the lead actress out of The Sound of Music, only to realize that I’d twirled myself back into the Hall of Gems.

  I went to the living room and sank down on the sofa. To be exact, I sank down into the sofa. One of the arms was rough and scored, and the springs sagged like a too-large pair of jeans. Both problems were from Shaw lounging on the piece of furniture as if he were a full-grown lion stopping by for tea on his way to the San Diego Zoo.

  The sag meant that I had my knees jacked up a couple inches too high, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, they made an easy resting place for my elbows so I could use my fingers to massage the dull ache behind my temples. The ache fought back with the tenacity of kinked muscle, but I continued anyway.