The Infiniti Investigates: Hattie Jenkins & the Infiniti Chronicles Books 1 to 5

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “He was our metallurgist,” Portia confirmed, her tone turning thoughtful as she looked at the glass and steel tubes. “It’s thanks largely to his efforts that we are as close as we are developing a long-lost, and much-needed alloy.”

  “Were the two of you romantically involved?” David asked, his question pointed to her while his eyes were looking at me.

  Portia’s face scrunched up. “Stop being ridiculous, CPI Trew. Aurel was a good man, but I was hardly his type.”

  “Let’s get back to the lineage tracing you mentioned,” I interjected. “What was so important about that?”

  Portia pointed at the maps with a sweeping finger. “Based on the intel we’ve gathered, along with the incidents that these maps chronicle, we now have reason to believe that the Unseelie Court is attempting the resurrection of the dragons.”

  I knew it! I knew something was emerging from all this whacked-out dragon lore I’d been hearing of late.

  “But why? What exactly do the Unseelies have against us?” I pressed.

  “And how on earth could they even pull this off?” David added, still not getting it.

  Portia’s finger pointed at me. “To your question, Hattie, I wish I knew. They clearly have latched onto some idea that puts the rest of the magical world in a bad light, and are enjoying the power struggle.”

  Portia’s finger swung around to David. “And, to your question, I also have no idea. But what IS true is that a hell of a lot of money has been poured into Mag Mell just lately. Where it’s coming from, we still haven’t been able to track that yet. But, with this kind of monumental cash injection, the Unseelies have garnered cutting edge equipment. Equipment powerful enough to conduct the most accurate gene splicing and dragon eugenics. This is a race, my friends, make no mistake about it. The crafty Fae are well on their way to resurrecting a living, breathing dragon. And I highly doubt the creature is being created just for a local zoo attraction.”

  “‘Wyrmrig,’” David muttered.

  “How did you know—“

  “Our witness says that you mentioned that word in your last conversation with Aurel.”

  Portia nodded with a chagrined look on her face. “Aurel’s boy. He definitely has his father’s curiosity.”

  “Wait, Wyrmrig, I know that word,” Midnight suddenly said. “One of my contacts mentioned it once. It translates as ‘dragon king,' right?”

  Portia looked insulted by Midnight’s question. “Yes, that is the creature that the Unseelie hope to reanimate. Under expensive, controlled experimentation.”

  I piped up. “You mentioned it’s a race. What did you mean by that? Are you also sifting through dragon eugenics? Trying to create a dragon of your own?”

  Portia nodded slowly. “While the Fae’s more criminal faction have been indulging in their expensive, and sometimes barbaric experiments, we have been trying for a more organic process to find HIM.”

  I raised an eyebrow, indicating that I’d need clarification.

  “We are hunting down something known as the Elder Code. Although the dragons have been extinct for hundreds of years now, we know that, before the last one died, they had passed on their DNA sequence to human offspring.”

  “Wait, if the dragon’s had passed on their lineage like this, wouldn’t it have shown up by now?” David asked. “I mean, they’ve been dead for centuries, and as of yet, to my knowledge anyway, there hasn’t been a single dragon sighting or incident.”

  “The dragon’s safeguard,” Portia confirmed. “They intended the code to skip a few generations of human life so that it wouldn’t be easily rooted out and destroyed.” She looked me square in the eye. “The elder code is out there. It lives in a walking, talking human being right now, and it’s up to us to find it. That’s why we had Druida on our task force. She spent weeks and weeks tracing down the lineage. She found some red-herrings, but not much else.” the old witch admitted.

  “What do you know about this balefire beacon, Portia? Could it have anything to do with Aurel’s death?” I asked, changing tack entirely.

  Portia shook her head. “I am no great believer in coincidence, but I think it more likely that Aurel’s expertise with metals is what got him killed. We were very close to having a material that would be good enough to withstand the fiery breath of even the most fearsome dragon. Of course, our opposition couldn’t have us in such an advantageous position. If they resurrect Wyrmrig, then they darn well don’t want to see us being able to protect ourselves against him.”

  “Before we go any further, I need to know something,” David said, holding up his hands. “Why are you deciding to trust us with all this?”

  “Consider Aurel’s final note,” Portia said, tapping her finger on the nearest tabletop. “First Druida is murdered, then Aurel’s incapacitation with the Strands psychosis, and now, ultimately his death. Truthfully, there aren’t many of us left. We would be better served if we had a few allies. Even if they come in the shape of a reluctant witch and a dolt of an Inspector.”

  David coughed, but otherwise ignored Portia’s remark. “Getting back to Aurel. Three night before his death, he got up in the middle of the evening and wasn’t back until after dawn. Did he come by here that night?”

  Portia shook her head again. “No. The phone conversation on his last night alive was the last time I talked to him.”

  Hoping that I wasn’t going out of bounds, I asked, “What was the nature of that last conversation?”

  A frown tugged at Portia’s lips. “Well, in between some updates on the Unseelie situation and the Wyrmrig, he called to see if I had something for stomach ache. His belly hurting from at least the day before. I told him it was all the junk food he’d been eating that was likely the culprit. When he was deep in work, his eating habits were just horrendous.”

  David jumped in with, “And were you able to give him something? For the belly ache?”

  Portia gave the chief a curt nod. “I had one of the raven’s send over a remedy, not an hour later.”

  David’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. What if Aurel had been poisoned then? At the time of the onset of his upset stomach? And not just an hour or so before he was found?”

  “Not seeing it,” I said. “Snake-Iron takes thirty minutes to kill a person, so the onset of his stomach pain would still leave about forty-eight hours before he died. The math doesn’t add up.”

  “Unless it’s a slower-acting version of the poison,” Fraidy said, his canines still chattering. “I mean, maybe they wanted him to die slow.”

  “The slower he dies, the more time he has to get help,” I countered.

  “But, then again, the stuff that Maude pulled out Aurel was definitely anything but standard Snake-Iron,” David pointed out. “Maybe it DID act slower.”

  “As absolutely fascinating as this brainstorming session is to witness,” Portia said, sounding anything but fascinated. “I’m afraid that I need to insist on your departure.”

  “But we just got here,” Midnight said, disappointment in his voice. He had only just begun his snooping.

  “Illegally. And it is only by my good graces that you will lawfully depart. In the meantime, I must swear each and every one of you to secrecy. For obvious reasons, if this information winds up in the wrong hands, it could be more than a little dangerous.”

  Midnight slumped. He was going to have to sit on a goldmine of dazzling gossip that he couldn’t share.

  “Kitties, swear by Bast,” I ordered.

  “I’ll swear by Lady Justitia,” David added, holding up his hand.

  “And I will swear by Brigid,” I said, putting my own hand up.

  “Acceptable,” Portia said.

  The oaths were sworn by all, and we made our way out of the cellar. To the right of the basement door, an elaborate formula had been written. I couldn’t tell what the language was, but it looked highly scientific. “What is this?” I asked Portia, pointing towards the scrawl.

  “Nothing you need concern your
self with now, Hattie,” she said. “All of you have more pressing concerns. Now, shoo. You’ve given me much to think about.”

  The door clanged shut behind us, and Midnight trotted over to Rak. “It’s a wrap, buddy,” Midnight patted the troll’s back to show he was pleased with the hobgoblin’s work.

  “What do you make of all that?” I asked as we walked to our waiting brooms.

  “Ask me again tomorrow morning,” David said, stifling a yawn. “Right now, I’d say that we could all use some rest. How about we check out the Coven Isles Alchemical Society tomorrow? See if Aurel’s colleagues have remembered anything.”

  “I’ve remembered something,” Fraidy offered.

  “What, sweetie? What have you remembered?” I bent down to pick up my cat, all eyes on him for a piece of useful data.

  “I’ve remembered that I don’t ever want to come back to Gaunt Manor again.”

  It's probably no surprise that after the day we'd had yesterday I slept like a baby last night. If I dreamt, I didn't remember any of my dreams in the morning. I made my way downstairs to The Angel, to see what orders were due and to brew a nice 'peppy' tea.

  Reaching for the kettle, I stopped mid flow. There were voices come from the back door. I tensed for a second until I realized that one of the voices belonged to Artemus. Phew.

  The other one took me a couple of seconds longer to recognize before Norris Copperhead's dulcet booms hit my ears. Engaged in polite niceties, the pair entered the kitchen. The order!

  I glanced at the table where we'd had all the equipment set up for Norris' order. Not a beaker or bunsen in sight. Instead, there was row upon row of carefully labeled and stoppered test tubes and jars. Everything in its place, the order was complete. I felt a rush of gratitude flow from me toward Artemus. He must have been up all night finishing this off.

  The vice chair alchemist spotted me then. “Ah, Ms. Jenkins. I couldn't be more pleased with this result." His open, inviting arms swooping across the table of the freshly prepared products. I smiled at Artemus, letting him know with my eyes how much this meant to me.

  “I take it you slept down here last night, Artemus?” I nudged my faithful lab assistant.

  “With Carbon for company,” Artemus confirmed, pointed toward the kitchen stove where Carbon was balled and bathing in the stoves warmth.

  "Well, I won't keep you both. I have payment ready, Ms. Jenkins. Right down to the last lune." Norris dropped a pile of neat bills and some stray coins onto the table.

  "I think you'll find it's all there," Copperhead cooed.

  "That looks to be more than what we agreed on," Artemus said rubbing his chin.

  "It's no less than what you both deserve," The Vice-Chair replied, placing the glass tubes in a padded carrier sack.

  "I shall forever more be recommending your services to all and sundry; I promise you that." Norris gave us his open-armed gesture once more, smiled and then practically skipped out the back door.

  I had planned to ask some questions about Aurel. I knew from David's men that the two were close, but I wanted to find out how long they'd known each other, or if Norris had noticed anything unusual about his friend before he died. I guess that'd have to wait.

  Before the door could fully close, I saw the alchemist's form shudder and become instantly more transparent. I blinked, and he was gone. I guess he was using some sort of portal magic to transport himself to wherever he needed to be next.

  I turned to Artemus. "Go home. Go and eat an excellent croissant, soak up some Gabrielle loving and have a good sleep."

  My assistant didn't argue, just gathered his things and shuffled, heavy-limbed to the back door.

  "Oh, before I go, " he said. "How's Millie doing? Have you heard?"

  “According to Midnight, the same as she was when we took her in. He took over from Onyx's watch last night." I dropped my head. Poor Millie. It had only been a few days, but I missed her bubbly energy and fast thinking. I rubbed my face, turning back to Artemus. “Carpathia has planned a meeting with the Presences tonight. We're hoping we can get some answers. But, until then..."

  “Would you like me to stay at the shop so you can run deliveries today?” he asked gently.

  I shook my head. “All my orders are taken care of. Dilwyn Werelamb's sending one of his boys over. They'll be my delivery service for the day. Lye. No, Styx, I think. Oh, I don't know. One of them, anyway."

  Artemus chuckled.

  "They're pretty much interchangeable those two,"

  "But, I did plan to accompany David at the CIAS this afternoon. Just to sniff around, ask some questions et cetera about Aurel." I looked up with my best 'pretty-please' eyes. "Think you could cover for an hour or so then?"

  "Noon okay?."

  "Noon's perfect. But, I'll warn you, David could be late." I knew my best friend was running around trying to stitch clues together.

  "All good. I'll bring my lunch over and settle in. No matter what time CPI Trew arrives." He saved and left.

  "Thanks, Aurel," I shouted after him.

  I began preparing for opening for the day.

  By noon, I was both bored and anxious. Foot traffic was slow. I had a few ointments to make up for Violet's dermatitis, but apart from that, the shop was dead. I felt anxious because I couldn't stop thinking about all this madness going on. Millie. Midnight. Aurel. The crafty Fae. The Custodians, and now the very real threat of the Wyrmrig.

  I was happy when Artemus walked through the front door.

  "You again?" I asked in mock surprise. Artemus laughed and took his place behind the counter. "Couldn't get enough of the place," he replied. Movement at the door caught my eye. Gabrielle, still wearing her apron, walked in behind her love, beaming a radiant smile. She had a silver platter, covered with just a tea towel balanced on her outstretched hands. There was a distinct, delicious aroma wafting from the edges of the cloth. Suddenly all of my cats were here. Brought out of hiding by the tempting smell of home cooked food.

  “Yo! Clay Lady,” Shade said. “Any of that good stuff for us?”

  Gabrielle gave Shade a clinical look, “No," she stated simply.

  “Ahh, c’mon! I’m starving here.”

  “Starving for attention, maybe,” Gloom managed. Just the same she couldn't take her eyes from the tray of steaming edibles either.

  Gabrielle lifted the tea towel to reveal a plate heaped high with juicy slices of roast beef, all drenched in a pool of glossy gravy.

  "Golem Girl, are we gonna get any of that?" Gloom ventured not so politely.

  "No" Gabrielle repeated. The cats looked crestfallen. Even I had half a mind to rip that tray from my friend, run to the hills and pig out on the wonders she'd made. All of a sudden Gabrielle's shoulders began to shake. Her face began turning deep red as her shoulders juddered up and down. I was about to run over to her to see if she was having a fit, but I realized then she was laughing!

  "Cats, I am just making a joke. I told you that this beef wasn't for you. But, the truth is: it is! It is for you!" The ex-golem guffawed and slapped the counter, doubling over in fits of hilarity as she shared the prank with us. We stared at her.

  The joke was so bad that it couldn't even qualify for a "you had to be there" appreciation tag.

  Gloom’s face broke into a hideous false grin, as she forced a little 'heh heh,' while nudging Onyx at the same time. Onyx got the hint; he shook his little body in a spasm of false titters, sticking out his foot to nudge Eclipse.

  Eclipse got it. He rolled on his back, chortling and holding his belly, tears coming down his face. My zippy cat joined in then.

  "Oooheeee, girlfriend, you are one funny customer!" Jet chortled, his fraudulent laugh not quite reaching his eyes. Pretty soon all the cats were putting on the show of the century for my friend's dud attempt at humor.

  I know guys. Whatever it takes to get the beef, right?

  Gabrielle laid the plate down, and it was immediately engulfed by a pile of black fur with swishing tails. T
hat should keep 'em quiet for a spell.

  "And, of course, I have something for the humans too," Gabrielle beamed, pulling out a freshly baked quiche and a container of salad from her cloth bag.

  I didn't need asking; I went to the back for plates and cutlery. May as well stuff myself with good grub while I was waiting for David, right?

  "You girls go sit out back and catch up. I'm happy here." Artemus offered. Gabrielle and I shrugged and made our way to the big oak table out back. I was just digging into the quiche when my baker friend asked, “Have you made any progress on the Aurel Nugget murder investigation?”

  I swallowed and said, “I’m not sure you would call what I have ‘progress.' Plus, there are certain things about it that I’ve been sworn to secrecy about.”

  “Are there any non-secrets that I could help you figure out?”

  I considered it. “Maybe. If you don’t mind being a sounding board?”

  “I will take your sounds,” Gabrielle said earnestly.

  In between bites of the splendid quiche, I went over all the evidence I wasn't sworn to secrecy for: the apparent cause of Aurel’s death, the staged scene, the weird powder that was a match for the stuff in the corpse’s system and the sticky note that referenced the balefire beacon.

  Mention of the beacon made Gabrielle’s normally impassive face to twitch a little.

  “My father spoke of balefire beacons. He considered them an offense against all life itself. He actually used the term ‘qlippoth’ to describe their properties.”

  That would fit with what I knew of Rabbi Goldsmith. The elusive man had made Gabrielle in the finest Kabbalistic tradition.

  “I have reason to believe that a balefire beacon is the cause of all the weird imbalances that everyone keeps seeing across the Isles,” I added. “Tonight, we’ll hopefully confirm that.”

  Gabrielle shook her head. “I never suspected such a thing being in existence. Yet now that you have mentioned it, it all fits only too well.”

  She pointed to my pocket and the protruding shaft of wood there. “There is a certain joke I have never gotten about how there is something in your pocket may also be a sign that the person is glad to see the person asking.”