Grave Visions

by Kalayna Price

  I couldn’t see it, but I swear I could feel his frown. I was weak and I’d just used a lot of energy while I didn’t have a lot to spare. At least we’d learned something useful.

  “About the vials of Glitter . . .” I told him what Icelynne had told Roy about the alchemist and the direction of my current thoughts on the case. He made a couple of noncommittal noises as I spoke, but didn’t interrupt or add his own opinions. He was silent for a long time after I finished.

  “You should get some rest,” he finally said, and while it was true enough, I couldn’t help feeling disappointed that he’d brushed me off without word one on the case. He knew finding the alchemist and associates was the only way I was going to get my independent status. Of course, he was the queen’s man, and she’d rather add me to her court than let me have relatively free rein.

  I yawned again, the movement turning into a full-on sway. I needed to sit down. Without another word, I climbed into the car and reclined the seat. I barely even heard the door shut as I closed my eyes and drifted off.

  Chapter 13

  Later that afternoon I sat in the middle of my bed, PC sprawled across my lap, and my laptop propped on one knee. Falin had dropped me off hours ago, saying he had to go to court and he’d be back tonight. He’d promised we’d discuss the case when he got back, but he’d given me no new information on the car ride home.

  Icelynne flitted about my room. I’d spent the last hour grilling her on absolutely everything she could remember about her confinement. When she’d called me a bully Sleagh Maith and broke out in tears, I let it go—she hadn’t been able to tell me anything she hadn’t already said when the queen and Falin had questioned her. Now I was writing up all the details she had given me in a document, along with everything I could remember from questioning Jeremy’s and Bruce’s shades. I was hoping organizing what I knew about the case would shine a new light on it, but I was running in circles.

  I knew fae were being kidnapped, held, and drained in the winter court by an unknown fae who was making a drug from their blood. That drug was being distributed to mortals, but I wasn’t sure how. Jeremy had said he picked it up at a club. Bruce had gotten it in the parking lot outside his high school dance. And why was the drug being distributed? Money would be the normal guess, but most fae didn’t care much about mortal money. And if it was just about money, why go with an exotic drug that used fae glamour? Why not something more mundane?

  And what about the deaths? What was the drug supposed to do? Were these deaths abnormalities and there were lots of people using Glitter with no consequence? Or was it a death sentence? Did nightmares always come to life on the drug?

  I stared at the screen, and then highlighted the word “nightmares.” Faerie had nightmares. An entire realm of them that fed on the bad dreams of mortals. To my knowledge they didn’t kill anyone, but I was far from an expert.

  The cursor blinked at me, taunting me with my lack of information.

  I shut the laptop a little harder than I needed. Then I looked up. Lusa Duncan, the star reporter for Witch Watch lacked her camera-worthy smile, which never happened. Either she didn’t like what she was reporting on, or she was trying to give the piece a serious tone. It was always weird when reporters delivered bad news with a brilliant smile. I grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

  “—a new drug called Glitter. Officials are warning that reports of this particular drug just appeared on the street but is already responsible for several deaths. Citizens are warned to avoid this drug at all costs and report anyone who approaches trying to sell or give it away. While authorities won’t release any information on the alleged deaths, they say the drug is classified as extremely dangerous.” Then she did smile. “But aren’t all illegal drugs, Todd?”

  The camera panned to another anchorman. “That they are, Lusa. The number at the bottom of the screen is a toll-free crime stoppers line. If you spot suspicious activities—”

  I muted it again. So John, or most likely someone higher up in the NCPD, had given a press release about Glitter. That was fast. I guessed it had to be the police though—I doubted the courts wanted the name of a drug with ties back to Faerie announced on television. I hoped the announcement would prevent some deaths, but I doubted it. From my experience, people who wanted to try a drug did so. I’d raised more than a few shades of addicts. The families always wanted to know why they had to take that one last hit, go for that last high. The shades never had a satisfying answer.

  My brain centered around the word addict. What was the point of a drug that killed the user? You never got repeat business. Definitely not a profitable way to do business, though I already doubted profit was a motivation. Still, what was the benefit of a killer recreational drug? Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be deadly?

  Or mortals weren’t the intended users. But then why distribute it in the mortal realm?

  If it wasn’t aimed at mortals, the human element of this was likely the weak point of the operation. I knew the drug was made in Faerie, but it was making its way to the mortal realm, which meant it was likely passing through the Bloom. The door was on the VIP side, but the mortals were on the tourist side. Maybe I could learn something there. Unless, of course, it is passing through some other door and being shipped into Nekros. But Icelynne was sure she’d been held in the winter court, and the winter court just happened to be the court currently tied to the door in Nekros. The simplest solution was often the correct one, so while I couldn’t discount the drug being shipped in, it was fairly safe to assume that it was passing through the Bloom.

  I glanced at my clock. It was nearly four and Falin wasn’t back yet. It would be dark in a few hours, so I couldn’t legally drive if I’d be out long—I had a restricted license. For some reason people weren’t keen on drivers with deteriorating vision operating a vehicle while completely night-blind. Go figure. Besides, I’d been more or less blind when Falin had dropped me off, so my car was still parked at the hotel.

  It was a little early for dinner, but I was betting Holly wouldn’t object to heading to the Bloom early today. As a mortal addicted to Faerie food, it was the only place in town she could eat, so she and Caleb ate there daily—usually multiple times a day. I’d just catch a ride with them. Decision made, I refilled PC’s bowl with kibble, and then grabbed my purse and headed downstairs to track down my housemates.

  • • •

  I leaned against the polished oak counter. I’d broken off from my roommates and headed for the tourist side of the bar. The drug was being distributed to mortals, so I hoped I’d have better luck on this side. Besides, the patrons were less intimidating.

  The bartender was an unglamoured satyr, his top that of a man, his bottom half furry with cloven hooves. As far as I could tell, he was one of only three fae in the bar, well, other than me. While part of the reason I’d decided to hit up this side of the bar was the fact it boasted less fae, the bartender was still the most likely to know what happened inside the bar. Or at least, that was my hope.

  So, I waited as he served mortals overpriced beer and the occasional basket of pretzels. He was here to be seen, and he was doing that. He kicked up his hooves as he walked, exaggerating the movement so no one could miss the goat half of him. It was probably great for his tips.

  “What’s your poison, darling?” he asked as he stopped in front of me. He tossed his head, making his curly hair slide back to show off stubby spiraled horns.

  I wasn’t impressed—I’d seen much larger horns before—but he was working it for tourists, so I smiled politely. Leaning conspiratorially close, I said, “Actually, maybe you can point me in the right direction. I’m looking for Glitter.”

  The satyr’s eyes rounded slightly, the smile faltering, but if I hadn’t been watching for a reaction, I wouldn’t have noticed. “Should I know what you’re talking about? What can I get you to drink?”

  He hadn’t said he did
n’t know what I was talking about. Only asked if he should. Which probably meant he knew something. Of course, it was possible he was hedging for no reason. The fact fae couldn’t lie meant many were naturally ambiguous in all their answers, regardless if they had something to hide or not. It was a defense mechanism of sorts. I didn’t know anything about this satyr, so I had no idea where he fell, but I was sure he’d recognized the drug’s name.

  How did one establish a buy with a drug dealer anyway? Geez, who knew I’d ever need that type of knowledge? I didn’t even know how to pull off acting like a junkie who needed a hit. The movies sometimes showed rich kids heading down to the wrong side of the tracks to score drugs, but I didn’t have the spare cash to throw around on a bribe—unless the seven bucks I had in my purse would buy me information. I really doubted that.

  I fingered the charm around my neck. There was one thing I had, though I had no idea if it would help me. Pulling the chain over my head, I dropped the charm in my purse. As soon as it lost contact with my skin, my flesh began to shimmer. The glow was subtle, but in the dim bar, more than a little noticeable.

  Someone oohed behind me, heads turned. The satyr backed up, then he dipped in the smallest bow.

  “My lady, I didn’t recognize you.”

  I frowned at him. He didn’t know me, but he meant recognize me as Sleagh Maith. It didn’t matter who I was or what court I was in, the assumption was that all Sleagh Maith were nobles. It earned my table the best spreads of food on the other side of the Bloom, so I knew it had some sway, but I hadn’t expected quite such a reaction from the satyr. Of course, from what Caleb had told me, the fae working on the tourist side of the bar were all independents required to flaunt their otherness whether they wanted to or not if they wished to remain in this territory. Most had very few encounters with court fae, especially the court nobles.

  “Glitter?” I asked. I figured short sentences were best—I was less likely to spoil the royal air.

  “I don’t know much. There is a hobgoblin . . .” His gaze darted around the bar, but apparently didn’t find what he was looking for because it landed back on me quickly. “He doesn’t come in often, but I’ve heard him talk about the stuff. He meets people here sometimes.”

  Perfect. Well, okay, maybe not perfect, but it was more than I knew before. I smiled at the satyr and passed him my business card. “Give me a call the next time he’s in.”

  He frowned at the card, staring at the Tongues for the Dead logo. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, and tucked the card into his smock. “I’ll return to my customers now?” He said it as a question, so I nodded and he scampered off, looking relieved to get away.

  I turned and scanned the bar. Several of the tourists openly stared at me, which wasn’t surprising. This was a “safe” place to gawk at fae. According to Caleb, places like this existed specifically so mortals could stare at fae—it helped cement the belief magic so necessary for Faerie’s survival. Which likely explained why the other three fae currently present were all employees. Aside from the bartending satyr, there was a dryad cocktail waitress who passed between the tables all smiles and rustling leaves—which were changing to brilliant reds and oranges with the progressing fall weather. A small platform that acted as a stage stood in the far corner of the room and held the final fae employee. She sang, her voice low and haunting as it slid over those watching her. She was beautiful in a dangerous way, like the lithe and dark beauty of a black widow spider.

  I didn’t know when the singer would take a break, and while I’d have liked to question her about Glitter or the hobgoblin the satyr had mentioned, interrupting her set didn’t seem like a good idea. I was on a restricted time frame. If she finished before I had to leave, I’d ask, but for now I focused on the cocktail waitress. Unfortunately, while she didn’t make it blatantly obvious she was ignoring me, she seemed to very intentionally never look in my direction, and some other patron always seemed to need her immediate assistance. There were no empty tables, and I wasn’t about to chase her around. After trying to flag her down unsuccessfully, I finally resorted to cornering her when she approached the bar for drinks.

  The vines of her hair twitched as I neared, making the leaves rustle louder. The smile she’d been wearing fell as she faced me. “I have a lot of customers,” she said, gesturing to the full room with the pint in her hand.

  “I just need a moment of your time. Do you know anything about a drug called Glitter?”

  She shook her head and lifted her now-full tray of drinks. I didn’t move out of her way and the vines lifted slightly, like a mass of angry snakes.

  “How about any hobgoblins who frequent this side of the bar?”

  “Mortals, hobgoblins, or other minor fae, they are all the same to me. I simply wish to finish my shift and return to my trees.”

  Right. I let her go. I couldn’t force her to talk to me. Her smile reappeared as she approached the tables. She never so much as glanced back my way.

  I watched the bar a little longer, but no one suspicious entered. People laughed and drank. One couple was clearly arguing, her body language closed off and his face flushed with anger. Another couple was obviously on the opposite end of their relationship, just starting to feel each other out, maybe they’d even met tonight in the bar. It all looked so normal. Like any other bar in Nekros, except with a few more souvenir shirts. I had no idea what I was doing or should be looking for. Maybe Falin would have info for me by the time I got home? Or I’d call up John tomorrow. Either way, I wasn’t accomplishing much here.

  I checked the time on my phone. Holly and Caleb would be looking for me. It was time to go. I’d learned all I could. I dug out my charm, though it likely wouldn’t work on the dryad, satyr, or anyone else who’d seen me in the bar—it showed people what they expected and now they’d all seen me glow. But it would disguise my nature from those who didn’t yet know better, so I slipped it over my head.

  I had a potential lead if the satyr followed through and called when the hobgoblin made his next appearance. It was the best I could do on the mortal side of the bar. On the VIP side? Asking questions would likely be a lot more dangerous. For today I’d just send Rianna a message letting her know about the fading and have some dinner with my housemates. I was starving.

  Chapter 14

  Falin didn’t return that night. I should have been happier about that fact; after all, that meant I had my small overhouse apartment all to myself for the first time in nearly a month, but really it just made me anxious as I kept expecting the door to open. It also meant I didn’t get any answers about what else he may have discovered at the crime scene.

  I considered checking in at the office the next morning, but it was Sunday so we had no posted hours for the day, plus Ms. B and Rianna were holding up in Faerie to conserve energy. The response Rianna had sent me last night hadn’t been encouraging, mostly because it had consisted of only one word. Hurry. I had to get my link to Faerie, and fast.

  I had other reasons to find the alchemist as well. If he was really behind the creation and distribution of Glitter, he had to be stopped before more vials of the drug hit the streets or more fae died under his phlebotomy tools. I had only a handful of hours before I needed to meet Holly and start getting ready for Tamara’s wedding, but I couldn’t waste them. It would help if I could track down the distributors in the mortal realm and then follow that line back to the alchemist. But I couldn’t just sit around hoping the satyr from the Bloom called. The hobgoblin he’d mentioned was my only lead, but it was also possible he wasn’t involved. Even if he was, who knew when he’d show up at the bar next, especially with Glitter being all over the news. How much time did I have before I faded so far I wouldn’t be able to stay in the mortal realm? I needed to be proactive. The problem was, I had no idea how to investigate a drug ring. But I knew someone who did.

  Grabbing my phone, I called the front desk at Central Precinct. I
confirmed John was in today, but declined to be transferred to his private line. He probably wasn’t too happy with me right now, and hanging up a phone was easy. I’d be way harder to dismiss in person.

  • • •

  John frowned at me from across his desk. I hadn’t even said anything yet—just sat down.

  “Alex, if you’re here about yesterday’s murder scene, there isn’t anything I can tell you. We handed over everything we had on it to the FIB already.”

  I smiled, trying to look innocent and disarming. John’s expression didn’t change and he closed the file he’d been scanning when I walked in.

  “It’s connected, but not directly. I need guidance. You worked narcotics before homicide, right?”

  John cocked one bushy eyebrow before giving me a single curt nod. That was apparently as good as I was getting from him. I rushed on.

  “Well, I need to track down who is making Glitter, but I’m not sure where to start. I know the kids from yesterday got their hands on it, and I know it’s being manufactured in Faerie—”

  “So you said. I’d like to know how you know that.”

  Now it was my turn to frown. I hadn’t actually been oath bound to refrain from talking about Icelynne and the circumstances of her death, but that didn’t mean I wanted to recklessly piss off the queen by discussing court business. The drug, while connected, was tertiary to that case. Still . . . “I was hired by the winter court to look into a case that involved the drug,” I said after what was probably too long of a pause.

  “And now you’re looking for the manufacturer? No offense, but that not only doesn’t sound like your kind of case, but you’re in way over your head. You’re excellent at raising shades. Stick to that.”

  He’d given me that particular advice before. It hurt no less this time. If my actual father had said as much, I wouldn’t have cared. But coming from John, the man who’d encouraged me to go through with getting my PI license in the first place, who’d encouraged me to open Tongues for the Dead, and who’d connected me with my retainer position with the NCPD—yeah, it stung. A lot.