Grave Visions

by Kalayna Price

  My dog was officially a traitor.

  I groaned, closing my eyes against the bright sunlight streaming into the room. I felt hungover. Hell, I wished I was hungover instead of slowly fading from magical withdrawal or whatever. But, no, there had been no drinking last night. Just a lot of creatively evasive statements given to the cops and firemen on how I’d entered the house and why the fire had abruptly vanished. Then an awkward drive home, my blind and shivering stumble upstairs, and my absolute refusal to let Falin share the bed to provide me with body heat—we’d played that game before and it didn’t end well for my heartstrings. I had a vague memory of Death kissing my cheek sometime in the middle of the night, but that may have been a dream.

  “What about a ledger?” Falin asked again.

  I peeled open my eyes and forced my mind to reexamine the first thought I’d had on waking. What was . . . “Oh, yeah. The ledger? The one everyone has to sign going into the VIP area of the Eternal Bloom. We know the alchemist is operating in Faerie, but the drug is being distributed in Nekros. That means our bogeymen have to be traveling back and forth. If we examine the ledger, we might find a pattern to their movements and be able to lie in wait.”

  Falin nodded, but it was more of a dismissive gesture than one of agreement. “I sent agents to collect the Bloom’s ledger after you told me who we were looking for last night. I also have agents stationed both inside and outside the Bloom in case either bogeyman makes an appearance.”

  Oh. Apparently I wasn’t half as clever as I thought I was. I rolled over, sighing, and squinted as light from the open blinds fell directly into my eyes. I stopped. There was an awful lot of light.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost noon,” Falin said, without looking up from his laptop.

  Noon? Crap. “I’m late. I’m so late. Why didn’t my alarm sound?”

  “I turned it off,” he said, without the slightest hint of apology. “You looked like you needed the sleep.”

  I gaped at him. Needed the sleep? I needed to open the office. With Rianna and Ms. B both holding up in Faerie to conserve energy, I was the only one left to run the office. But even more than that, I needed to be up working the case. Sleep wasn’t going to make me better—establishing a tie to Faerie was the only way.

  Falin shrugged at the aghast look on my face. “I sent an agent to your office to hang a sign stating your office would be closed for the remainder of the week.”

  Great. Well, that was something, at least. And it freed me up to focus on finding the alchemist. “Must be nice having minions,” I muttered, and then swung my legs over the side of the bed. I was still in yesterday’s jeans. I shuffled across the room to my dresser, but found my pants drawer empty. I glanced at the pile of dirty clothes beside the dresser. I hadn’t done my own laundry since Ms. B decided she was going to be my personal house/office brownie. Now that she was back in Faerie, I was apparently out of clean clothes. I looked down at the clothes I was already wearing. They were likely as good as any of the other dirty clothes. I turned back to Falin. “Didn’t the queen forbid you from discussing the case? What did you tell the agents you sent to the Bloom?”

  He frowned at me. “I’m the winter knight and the lead agent for the winter court’s FIB. I tell my agents that I want them to find and detain two fae, they don’t ask me why.”

  Right. “So now what?”

  “Now you eat some food. I made breakfast, but that was earlier. You’ll have to nuke it.” He pointed to the fridge. “Then change. You smell like a campfire.”

  Apparently these clothes aren’t quite as good as any of the others. I seriously needed to do laundry.

  He didn’t add anything else to the list, so either his plans extended no further than getting me fed and cleaned up, or he didn’t want to tell me, which likely meant he’d decided I was getting too weak and was considering taking me to Faerie. I needed a plan, and now.

  “I think we should head to the floodplains,” I said as I grabbed the plate loaded with waffles, eggs, and sausage.

  Falin looked up, his expression questioning.

  I dug my phone out of my back pocket, pulled up the notes I’d jotted down yesterday while reading the enchanted book of folklore, and then slid it across the counter to Falin. “In most of the stories, Jenny Greenteeth is described as a water hag. She traditionally lives in bogs and swamps and drowns naughty children who come too close to the edge of the water,” I said between bites of food. “The floodplain isn’t exactly a bog, but it’s the closest Nekros has to her normal habitat. And it would certainly be easier to search than looking for Tommy Rawhead, who folklore asserts traditionally lives under stairwells.”

  Falin looked less than convinced, but what did we have to lose?

  • • •

  I popped downstairs to talk to Caleb before we left. He told me that the independent fae were full of gossip about the possibility of the Winter Queen losing her court, but no one would admit to having seen the two bogeymen. “Would admit.” Those were the words he used.

  I repeated as much to Falin, and his lips twisted into a smile I’d never seen on him before. It was darker, sadder than a smile deserved to be, and it made him look like a stranger. “Well, maybe they need someone else to ask the question.”

  “Are you planning to threaten the fae in the floodplains?” I asked as we walked toward his car.

  He didn’t answer, but stared straight ahead.

  I sighed. I was not exactly sanguine about the idea of threatening local independents for not volunteering information. It was a bullying move. One the courts used quite a lot, and a reason I didn’t want to join the courts. I remembered what Caleb had said when I first asked him to talk to the independents for me, about me having too many ties to the courts. I cringed. This would certainly cement that perception. I hated it, but I was also very conscious of my own ticking clock, the number of bodies Glitter was piling up, and the fact that Falin and I couldn’t search the entire floodplains ourselves. We’d have to talk to some of the local water spirits.

  The drive stretched on in strained silence. The last time I’d visited the Sionan Floodplains Nature Preserve, I’d found a pyramid of dismembered feet. To say it wasn’t one of my favorite places was an understatement. Besides, I still didn’t have any appropriate footgear, and my thigh-high, wedge-heeled boots weren’t made for trucking through the muck.

  But what choice did I have?

  I pocketed my cell before opening Falin’s glove box to stash the purse. My gaze caught on the first-aid kit Falin had used so liberally the day before, and I glanced at him, realizing his movements had been much smoother today. The small lines of pain around his eyes were absent as well. I knew he couldn’t be completely recovered, but damn, he did heal fast.

  Falin parked in the gravel. Then we both headed into the tree line. At least we hadn’t had the rainfall of a few months ago, so for a sometimes–swamp land, the paths we were following were fairly dry.

  “How should we go about this?” I asked as we reached the trail.

  “I know where several of the locals usually frequent. We’ll start there. Ask some questions.”

  Right.

  We walked for nearly forty-five minutes before Falin veered off the path. It was another twenty minutes, this time trudging through sludge that sucked at our feet and undergrowth that entangled our ankles, before Falin held up a hand and ground to a stop.

  He looked around, and then up at the sky, as if the midday sun could direct him the way old sailors navigated by the stars. Apparently satisfied, he called out, “Shellycoat. Show yourself.”

  I waited, watching and listening. Wind whistled in the trees, birds called to one another, and in the distance the Sionan River churned, but no fae answered. I shuffled my feet.

  Nothing.

  “I don’t think—” I started, but then I heard a very distin
ct click-clacking emanating from the right. I turned as a tall, rail-thin fae emerged from behind a tree. His footfalls made no sound, but something under his coat clinked with every step he took.

  “You called, Knight?” he asked, straightening to his full height.

  The fae looked like a cartoonish caricature of how one might imagine a bogeyman: all sharp angles, willowy long limbs with knobby joints, and a comically large beak of a nose. But he wasn’t a bogeyman, and when he spoke, you forgot how he looked because his voice was one of the most soothing, harmonic sounds I’d ever heard—possibly dangerously so. I wasn’t sure exactly what kind of fae he was, but if someone told me he was related to sirens, I’d believe them.

  “I did. We need information about a fae name Jenny Greenteeth. She may be residing in the area.”

  The fae’s dark gaze slid from Falin to me, and he gave the slightest inclination of his head in greeting. “Alex.”

  “Malik,” I said, keeping my voice carefully empty. The last time I’d seen the fae he’d been a prisoner in Faerie, forced to sing for the queen. Technically I’d freed him, but I was pretty sure he considered it my fault he’d been hauled off in the first place, so I wasn’t counting on him being my biggest fan. I’d also just shown up with the winter court’s knight and enforcer, which wouldn’t win me any points.

  “Your green man already asked me about the water hag,” he said, addressing me instead of Falin.

  I nodded. Green man was what many of the fae called Caleb. The independents didn’t have a true hierarchy, but if there had been a leader among the fae in the floodplains, it would have been Malik. It didn’t surprise me that he’d been one of the fae Caleb spoke to on my behalf.

  “And what did you tell him?” Falin asked.

  The tall fae shrugged. “I have not seen her.”

  Well, he couldn’t lie, so that seemed fairly clear-cut.

  But Falin wasn’t satisfied. “Have you heard any other fae talking about her, or someone one who might be her?”

  “Only you and the green man,” Malik said with another shrug, but the movement looked forced, stiff.

  I frowned at him. “You know something.”

  “I know nothing about her, planeweaver.”

  “But you suspect something.”

  His glance skittered from me to Falin and back, and he wrung his long-fingered hands. “I wouldn’t presume to speculate . . .”

  “You had better start then,” Falin said, taking a step toward Malik. “Or I’ll have you hauled to the winter dungeons so that you have plenty of time to think through those speculations.”

  Malik gulped, his whole body sagging as if he was trying to draw back from Falin without actually giving up any ground. “I don’t suppose you’re offering anything to trade for the information?” he asked, though he sounded far from hopeful.

  Falin took another step toward the other fae. Malik was technically taller, but that was easy to forget with how much more imposing—not to mention dangerous—Falin looked. “I’m offering you the chance to avoid a one-way trip to Faerie.”

  Malik shrank back further, collapsing in on himself.

  “I’m offering trade,” I said, stepping forward. “Since you have no direct knowledge, only a small favor, but a favor.”

  Falin shot a frown at me, but Malik perked up.

  “My choosing?”

  “No, mine. And the actual value of the favor will be dependent on if your information helps us locate Jenny Greenteeth.”

  Malik studied me, rubbing the bridge of his long nose with one hooked finger. “You look unwell, planeweaver.”

  I didn’t reply. I wasn’t going to tell him how much I personally had at stake in finding Jenny—it would only give him leverage to sweeten the favor.

  “Her offer is on the table for a short time,” Falin said, taking another step closer to Malik. “My threat is ongoing.”

  Malik dropped his hand. “Right. Well, like I said it is nothing definitive, but there are a series of small ponds not far north of here. Recently one of them fouled without obvious cause. The nixies won’t go near it. It is nothing certain, but last time I met Peg Powler, she preferred hunting in dank, putrid bogs. But that is all I know—I haven’t seen the hag herself.”

  I recognized the name as one of Jenny’s aliases, though I couldn’t now remember which stories had included which names. Not that it mattered; most of the tales had the same theme.

  Falin rubbed his chin, looking for all the world as if he was dissatisfied with Malik’s answer. I, on the other hand, had to keep tight control on my feet so I didn’t hurry off in the direction Malik had indicated.

  Falin asked a few more questions, mostly clarifying the location of the befouled pond and the most direct path to and from it. Then he dismissed the other fae, who was all but quivering by the time he slunk back into the swamp. I would have preferred Malik to guide us to the ponds, but his directions were clear, and I’d take what I could. After all, we finally had a lead.

  Chapter 23

  “This has to be it,” I said, stopping several feet from the dark water. Malik’s directions had been easy enough to follow, we weren’t even that far off of the main trail. Easier to eat children if they are likely to wander to your doorstep. I shivered and edged back a step from the pond. “Now what?”

  Falin gazed across the expanse of algae-encrusted water. “Now we knock on her door.”

  He stepped forward, lifting a blade out of who-knew-where he kept them magically concealed. Dragging the edge of the blade across his palm, he opened a thin slit. Blood welled to the surface and he walked up to the edge of the pond. Fisting his hand over the water, he let several fat drops of red blood fall to the slimy green surface. Then, in a voice that had to be magically amplified, called out, “Jenny Greenteeth, I summon you. As knight of the winter court, I compel your attendance.”

  “Will that really work? You can compel any fae in winter territory?” I asked, watching the still surface. The pond wasn’t large, maybe fifty feet at its widest point. During the summer droughts, all but the deepest sections probably vanished.

  “If she was a regular courtier or independent, and assuming she’s home, then yes, it would work. But we don’t know who she’s sworn herself to. I can’t compel a noble, nor a fae sworn under a noble.”

  And Icelynne had said she thought the alchemist was Sleagh Maith. If Jenny was sworn to him, this wouldn’t work. Of course, for it to work at all, we had to hope we were in the right place and she was home.

  Nothing moved or disturbed the water.

  Malik had been spot-on in his assessment that the pond had been fouled. The stagnant water stank, algae covered all but a few murky spots, and the mud around the edges was littered with decaying fish and seaweed. But this was the floodplains. It consistently flooded and then drained back—who was to say this wasn’t the pond’s natural cycle. Except that the nixies won’t go near it. From what I knew of them, nixies were harmless and rather childlike water spirits. They did have a propensity to predict deaths while they danced across the water, but they just predicted it, they didn’t cause it. They were attracted to all decent-sized bodies of water, so their avoidance of this pond might truly be odd. Malik had certainly implied it was. But then again, fae often relied on implication to skirt the truth. Not being capable of lying meant you had to get creative.

  The water remained still.

  “Do you think she’s out or are we in the wrong place?” I asked, willfully ignoring the possibility she simply didn’t have to answer.

  Falin wrapped a handkerchief around his palm—people still carried those?—and frowned at the expanse of unmoving water. “I’ll have some agents stake out the area, for if she returns.”

  That was a good idea. I walked a few more feet along the edge of the pond, trying to see if it branched off. Something tugged on my senses, and I stopped.<
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  Falin pulled his phone out of his pocket, and then scowled at the screen. “No signal.” He looked around, as if trying to judge what spot in the nature preserve was more likely to get cell signal. “We’d better head back.”

  I nodded, but the movement was distracted as I tried to zero in on what my senses were picking up. It wasn’t magic, at least not Aetheric witchy magic. But there was something familiar about it. I took a few more steps—in the opposite direction of the path we’d taken to get here.

  Falin was still holding his phone up in the air, searching for bars, but he turned when he noticed I wasn’t following him. “You coming?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead, I’ll catch up in a minute.” What was that? It tickled along my skin, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, and unlike the chill of grave essence reaching for me from the various animal bodies in the area, this felt . . . warm.

  “I’ll be just down the path,” Falin said, but a frown claimed his expression, and he didn’t head in the direction he’d indicated.

  I gave him another nod, barely listening as I reached out with my senses. There was definitely something here. It didn’t feel malicious, but I still stopped to pull my dagger from the sheath in my boot. After all, I had no idea if Jenny was hiding somewhere out of sight.

  Picking my way carefully through the underbrush, I followed the trail of magic like it was a bit of unwound string I could track back to its ball of yarn. It led me away from the edge of the pond, through a small copse of trees, and to a clearing. In the very center of the clearing stood a small sapling, and the trail I’d been following culminated around the thin tree.

  I approached it carefully. Despite the fact we were half through October, dark glossy leaves still clung to the branches and flowers bloomed sporadically amid the green foliage.

  An amaranthine tree.

  I was far from an expert on Faerie flora, but the only other amaranthine tree I knew of grew in the center of the VIP section of the Eternal Bloom, and it acted as the door to Faerie. I didn’t know for sure if all of the trees marked doors, and if they did, if those doors randomly sprang up wherever the trees took root, but I did know I didn’t like this tree being so close to the fouled pond.