“It occurred to me,” I said, watching her closely, “that the Vessels share a striking resemblance to the containers that your people and the sylphs must be using to store those addicts’ souls.”
I expected derision from her, or denial. Maybe that she’d want to deflect. But Gunthra merely nodded. “It is the same concept, although the Vessels were designed for a greater purpose. Much blood and sacrifice went into making them, far more than what would be required to make the containers you’re searching for. The scale is nowhere near the same.”
“You believe they’re real, not a legend.”
“I know they’re real. That doesn’t make them any less of a legend.” She smiled.
I acknowledged the point with a grunt. “Fair enough. You said they were made for a purpose. What purpose? Why do you want to learn more about them?”
“Knowledge.” She raised one hand. “Price.” She raised the other, then clasped them together.
I flopped backward. “Fine, but if you know so much, what more were you expecting me to be able to tell you?”
“Where to find them, primarily. What they look like. How to use them. Also confirmation that what I believe is true actually is true. All of which, Miss Moore, you’ve failed to deliver.”
That was quite the list.
My hands clenched at my sides. “I told you everything I could find out, and you know I’m not lying. Maybe now that you’ve given me more to go on, I’ll have a better chance of discovering what you want when those books arrive from the library. But, meanwhile, I did what was requested. If you want more information than we originally agreed on, then tell me this—does your interest in the Vessels have anything to do with the containers your people used to steal those souls?”
Surprise flashed over Gunthra’s face, then she slammed her mask of indifference down on top of it. “I can’t tell you for sure, but I would certainly hope not.”
Then why do you want them? My best—and only—idea was wrong.
“Just curious,” I said, trying to play it off as a random thought. “So what about your end of the deal. I’d like to get Eric Marshall’s soul back.”
Gunthra pressed her lips together. “You’re not lying about what you found, Miss Moore, but you’ve hardly done much. You haven’t given me anything that I wanted to know.”
“Our deal was that I’d tell you what I could learn by Sunday evening. I warned you that it might take longer than that to get information.”
“Yes, but Sunday evening was an artificial time limit stuck on this deal by you.”
“Doesn’t matter. I upheld my end.”
“Yes, it does matter.” Gunthra’s words ran together as she clenched her jaw. “You said you would hand over more information, though it might take longer.”
She wasn’t the only one on the verge of losing it. My fingers itched to caress my knife. There was no way in hell I was letting her get away with reneging on our deal. “I did say that, and I will hand it over. But first I want to know the name of your goblin, as we agreed on.”
“When you tell me all you could learn.”
I jumped up because I could not control my limbs any longer. “That wasn’t the wording we agreed upon.”
“That’s my interpretation of it.”
“Oh, this is a pile of salamander shit.” I smacked a pillow. It was that or lunge for her, and I couldn’t get away with that. “Forget it. You are not getting any more information out of me until I have Eric’s soul back in my possession. That is my priority. Not you and your nefarious history concerns. I don’t have time for this.”
“Fine.” Gunthra’s word came out like a punch, startling me. I held my breath as she stormed over to her mantel and picked up one of her glass-encased butterflies. She held it to her chest like it brought her comfort. “You realize what it means for a Dom to sell out her own people to the Gryphons?”
I crossed my arms. “Not exactly, no.”
“Our job as Dom is to protect those under us. If we can’t do that, we fail at our only job. It’s like selling out one of your children.”
“My heart breaks. Your child turned someone into a ghoul. What’s his name?”
“I tell you this, you’ll tell me what else you continue to learn?”
I chewed this over. It sounded an awful lot like what we’d originally agreed upon, but apparently Gunthra hadn’t expected me to walk if she’d tried to be sneaky. I couldn’t trust her anymore. “Yeah, okay, assuming your information pans out, that is. You’ll forgive me for being less than trusting at the moment.”
Gunthra clucked her tongue in disapproval, and I wanted to smack her more than ever. She was the one reneging on our deal. “Silas. He runs the dry-cleaning shop by the bookstore.”
That couldn’t be right. Silas didn’t sound like a goblin name. “This is the goblin that has Eric’s soul?”
Stiffly, Gunthra set the butterfly back. “No. This is the sylph who makes the containers that my goblin and the others used to capture those souls.”
“That was not—”
“At his place of business you’ll find the names of everyone to whom he sold those containers, along with evidence to support arresting him for doing it. Trust me, Miss Moore. Arresting Silas is a much greater victory than arresting a single goblin, and I won’t have betrayed my own people by pointing you toward him. I think that’s more than fair.”
I gritted my teeth. Much as I longed to pull Misery from its sheath and threaten the goblin’s name from Gunthra, I fought to keep my temper in check. “You know how long it will take the Gryphons to pull off a raid like that. How do I know you won’t tip off Assym?”
She sighed. “Because I have to assume if you don’t find what I’m telling you is there, you won’t continue to cooperate with my research. I am certain the Gryphons have records that will give me what I need, and unfortunately for both of us, you are the only person I know with the remotest chance of accessing them. So.” She raised her hands in defeat. “I won’t be tipping off Assym any time soon. His inability to control his people isn’t my problem.”
“Then let’s hope you’re right if you want anything else from me.”
“How did you get this information?” Bridget asked.
I paced in circles around my living room, holding my phone to my ear. Books were strewn all over, turning it into an obstacle course. “You told me to work my contacts in Shadowtown. I worked my contacts in Shadowtown. Can we leave it at that?”
“Jess, between this and the lack of details you provided yesterday about the sylphs, people are going to ask questions.”
I stepped over a history book. “Let them. Those are two completely unrelated events, and any questions about yesterday can be directed at Tom Kassin.”
“Who’s conveniently out of the country.”
“But on his way back.” Unfortunately. I adjusted the phone. “Look, it’s a good lead. I have reason to be confident about it. Are we following up on it or not?”
If not, I might have to do it by myself, and I didn’t see that going over well. Dezzi might have threatened Assym on my behalf, but the sylphs would not roll over and let me raid one of their businesses. And I was certain that, even if she was trying to court me, Dezzi would not back me up on such a hostile act.
“We are,” Bridget said. “But it’s a Sunday evening, so it’s going to take me a couple hours to pull a team together for something this big. I’ll get started as soon as we hang up.”
“Whoa, wait.” I reached for the wall as I tripped on the lamp cord. “Tonight? What about waiting for morning and catching everyone unawares?” That was how the Gryphons preferred to operate, and it made sense.
“This case is time sensitive. I don’t want to do this during prime pred hours either, but the sooner we have leads for tracking down the preds involved, the better. I don’t want to wait, and I do
n’t know enough about your informant to trust him.”
I grimaced. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Then as soon as I get a team together and a warrant, we’re going. Can you come in? I assume you want to be a part of this.”
“You know me. Wouldn’t miss it.”
Before I went in, though, I stopped by Lucen’s. The Lair was closed since it was Sunday, but that was often the day he took care of backend business if he hadn’t had time during the week. So when he didn’t answer his apartment door, I knocked on the bar’s.
He opened it so fast he must have known I was there already. “Need to talk about your meeting with Gunthra?”
“Sort of. I’ve got to be quick.”
I didn’t owe the satyrs a warning about what was going to happen. Theoretically, they shouldn’t even be involved, and the gods knew how illegal tipping off Lucen must be. Yet my conscience wouldn’t let me leave Shadowtown without letting him know what was coming his way. If nothing else, I wanted him to be forewarned about what I was up to so there could be no arguments about it later.
Lucen stepped aside so I could enter the bar. He had boxes sitting out on the tables, the radio was on, and he seemed to be in the middle of some reorganizing.
“Hey, Jess.” One of the boxes slid to the side, and Devon’s face came into view.
I managed to hold in the whimper that crawled up my throat. Seeing him and Lucen together was too weird, and clearly not a situation I’d been prepared for.
It was also irrelevant at the moment, but that didn’t make the weird feeling any less intense, nor stop Devon from silently laughing at my reaction.
I pushed my hair behind my ears self-consciously. “I wanted to give you a heads-up. The Gryphons are coming this way. Not after you, but after a certain sylph. It shouldn’t concern you at all, in fact, but I feel this sense of obligation to warn you.”
I was pleased to see my news wiped the humor from Lucen’s face, but Devon just popped the cap off a fresh beer and shrugged. “Dezzi will be very happy that you’re so considerate. Care to offer more details?”
“Not really. I shouldn’t be telling you this much.”
Lucen pulled me close. “Why are we being invaded?”
“Illicit magic operation.”
Devon let out a whistle. “Better the sylphs than us. Those are always exciting. I should grab a rooftop seat to watch. Want to point me in the right direction?”
“Not really.”
“You found who’s making the containers?” Lucen asked, and I nodded. “Nothing we need to worry about then, but thanks, little siren.”
“No problem.” I kept my eyes averted from Devon as I kissed Lucen’s cheek. Would I have felt as much like a traitor if I hadn’t told him? Gryphons or satyrs—I needed to straighten out my loyalties. “I need to go.”
Lucen kissed me back, not content for anything so chaste, and I could feel Devon’s gaze on me. My cheeks flushed.
When I pulled away, he was watching me intently. “You’re going along?”
“My case. My lead. Hell, yes.”
Devon set his beer down and walked over. “Then you’d better give me a kiss for good luck too. The sylphs already have it in for you. You need to be careful.”
You need to be careful. Devon’s words rang in my head as I joined Brian’s team in the Gryphons’ conference room.
Bridget had turned my information over to her supervisor, and over the past hour, the Gryphons he’d called had been trickling in. There were ten, not including me, many of whom I hadn’t seen before. For the most part, they weren’t investigators like Bridget. More like the equivalent of a SWAT unit.
In the past few minutes we’d apparently reached some critical mass because Brian dimmed the lights and the briefing started. After providing a summary of what we’d been up to, he turned the floor over to Bridget, who related what I’d told her. Then we moved on to the logistics and other practical matters—who the sylph was, where his business was located, what we were likely to find.
This amounted to a lot of speculation because this sylph didn’t have a criminal record. That made the people around me nervous, which made me jittery. When I asked Bridget about it, she explained that a lack of history meant they were dealing with the unknown.
“Usually we have a good beat on preds, an idea of who it is we’re dealing with. Without it, it’s harder to anticipate what sort of resistance we’ll be met with.”
“For one sylph?”
She obsessively undid and redid her ponytail. “It’s never just one. When we raid this guy’s shop, the sylphs as a whole will be pissed.” She tapped me on the back. “Your protection charm okay still?”
“No worries there.”
I was the only one who could say that, though. Getting out the door was a slow process for a group of people who seemed capable of moving at light speed in an emergency. But aside from weapons to hand out, charms needed to be assigned, as well. Recalling yesterday’s sylph encounter, I didn’t say no to the speed and strength charms Bridget offered me. I slung them around my neck, grateful for the additional protection. My soul might be safe, but I didn’t need another reminder that my body was not.
Three hours after I’d called Bridget, I returned to Shadowtown.
The sun had finished setting, and the sky glowed with light pollution. Sunday night meant the streets were less busy, but plenty of preds were around to gawk when the Gryphon SUVs pulled up outside an innocuous-looking dry-cleaner’s shop.
A goblin and two harpies who’d been exiting the bookstore next door cursed and darted back inside. Nervously, I fidgeted with my knife and wished I’d snagged a disguise charm. My presence would not be winning me any friendly neighbors.
Three of the Gryphons took off around the back, but up and down the street, preds were whipping out their phones. Even if this Silas guy didn’t know we were about to knock down his front door, Assym and his council would soon.
I swatted at a couple imps that were hanging around the streetlamp we’d parked by and trailed the Gryphon team across the street. Bridget was on her walkie-talkie, letting the Gryphons in the back know an OPEN sign hung in the store window.
Hands on their blade hilts, the first two Gryphons threw open the door. When the all-clear rang out, all but two of the Gryphons headed in. I followed.
The lights were on, and the faint strains of classical music played from unseen speakers. I let the door close behind me while Bridget yelled Silas’s name. A long counter separated us from the back of the shop, which was a maze of racks and plastic-sheeted clothes. In all, the place appeared to be exactly what it was purported to be. Gunthra had better not have lied.
“You smell that?” one of the Gryphons asked.
I inhaled deeply, but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be sniffing. A faint chemical odor laced the air. Not owning the sorts of clothes that required dry cleaning, I had no idea whether that was abnormal.
A few of the Gryphons shrugged, and Bridget called for Silas again. This time her inquiry was met with a banging noise, and a “Fucking Gryphons” from somewhere in the back.
A moment later an old and extremely pissy-looking sylph hobbled to the counter, holding a phone in his hand. “Can I help you?”
Bridget slapped the warrant on the counter. “We got a tip about some unregulated and illicit charm making going on at the premises. We’re taking a look.”
“I see.” The sylph drew out the word, his gray eyes filled with cold menace. He slid the phone into his pocket, and I’d have bet anything that he’d been in the back getting tipped off when we arrived. How else would he have known that the humans entering his shop were Gryphons?
The Gryphon closest to the counter gate opened it, and one by one, we filed through. There was little room to move and less room to see thanks to the hanging clothes. I pushed a plastic
-wrapped shirt out of my face, disturbed but unable to say why.
That was when the rack started moving.
I jumped back, the sound of the machinery competing with the shouting Gryphons, several of whom were stuck in the middle. Dodging clothes, I made to grab for the sylph, but he flew out of my reach, no longer frail but spry. Swearing, I ducked low, maneuvering my way to where he’d been standing, certain the switch for the rack had to be nearby but I couldn’t see it.
“Down there!” I heard Bridget yell.
Breaking free of the moving clothes, I saw a flash of white disappear through a doorway. Abandoning the switch, I charged after him.
Bridget and two other Gryphons got to the doorway first and disappeared. I stumbled through on their heels only to discover a narrow landing and set of rickety wood stairs. Whatever smell had lingered in the main part of the store was stronger here, a mix of harsh chemicals and something pungent. Something that conjured memories of the compost pile in my mother’s backyard. Rotting food.
“Holy shit,” one of the Gryphons muttered.
Holding the baluster, I continued my descent, landing in a creepy, dark basement. Only a couple bare light bulbs illuminated the dark wood that seemed to be everywhere—the floor, the ceiling, and row upon row of shelves.
“Where the hell did he go?” Bridget asked. She’d pulled out her sword and a flashlight, peering into the narrow aisles between the shelves.
It was a good question. Judging by the upstairs, the basement could not be that large.
I temporarily forgot about the sylph, enthralled in a horrified way by the objects that sat on his elaborate worktable. Glyphs and diagrams had been carved into the top, and the tools of the magical trade were everywhere. Obsidian bowls, a bloody knife, and jars filled with a variety of items that once belonged to living creatures. I simply couldn’t identify what those creatures had been at this point, or what pieces of them had the misfortune to end up here. It was from one of those containers that the stench emanated.
Footsteps pounded down the stairs behind me, and dust fell from the ceiling with the vibrations. Another Gryphon joined us in the basement. Tearing my eyes from the table, I rested my hand on Misery’s hilt and moved out of his way.
[M__M 03] Misery Loves Company Page 25
