I went still. "Home."
"If...faeries...were back home—you know, behind the Veil?—you wouldn't have to worry about them doing things you don't like in what is rightfully the humans' home."
She said "humans" like it made a sour taste in her mouth.
I looked at her, a terrible fear building in my chest. "You want me to get you back to Faerie, back to your realm? How the hell am I supposed to do that?"
"That would be part of what you would have to determine. But we could pool our information."
"What's in it for you?"
She studied her fingernails. "Not everyone is gleeful about being in this environment, you know. Some were thrust here kicking and screaming." The lines on her face softened, just for a moment, but long enough for sorrow to shine in her eyes.
"There's someone you want to get back to," I guessed.
She picked at a cuticle.
Wait. Something was still off...like my brain floated on fluffy cloud. A small fuchsia coat flashed in my mind, and I suddenly remembered.
"And last night?" I said. "What was last night about?"
She shrugged a shoulder. "An evaluation."
I gasped. "Flint? You set up Flint so you could evaluate me? Where is he?"
Her eyes flashed in anger. "I assure you, I had nothing to do with that. I heard what was happening at the arena and went there to wait for your arrival."
"That's cute, but I don't believe it. The timing is too coincidental. Much like running into you today. Are you following me?"
She shrugged. "I can't help that I have good timing. I don't know what else to say to convince you I didn't set up the evaluation last night. Our paths crossed and I capitalized on it."
"Yet you admit to evaluating me. Why me?"
"I've seen your work. You're resourceful. If anyone can puzzle out how to get us home, you can."
"We don't work with faeries."
Her face clouded with restrained anger, and then, as though a gentle breeze moved that cloud, she became sunny again.
"Is that right?" She snorted. "Shows what you know. I might have to reevaluate."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're not as observant as I thought you were," she snapped. "Do you know where your boss is right now? Do you even know what happened to your first partner?" She lifted her cup to her lips, took a long sip, and then regained her composure.
Anger started to boil under my skin. She was trying to manipulate me. I had to show her it wasn't going to work.
"My answer is still no."
She leaned forward, still grinning, but her smile was sinister now.
"In case you haven't noticed, we're not known for asking for what we want," she said sharply.
Great. I would be working with them no matter what? I didn't like the sound of that at all.
"Not that I'm agreeing to this, but what is it you think I can do for you to get you back home? I'm merely human."
Her eyes glittered with amusement. "You hear things, you tell them to me."
"And exactly what is it you're offering in exchange for my information?" I asked.
She tilted her head to the side. "Have you ever considered that your methods of punishment are not quite severe enough?"
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a dagger about the size of a letter opener.
"This is cold iron, forged by my people," she said. "The only weapon that can kill my kind."
While she talked, the dagger grew to a full sword.
"Wait. You want me to kill faeries?" My stomach soured. "That's—that's—"
"Inhumane?" Ruby leaned forward and whispered, "We're not human."
The hair on the back of my neck rose. I went cold, as though chilled by a draught. I pulled my jacket tighter.
She leaned back against her chair. "Sounds cruel, I know," she said quickly, "and yet, these bad apples are ruining things for our whole bunch. Isn't it better to throw out the rotten fruit?"
I shook my head. "Our procedures are working—"
"Your bullets do not stop us. They barely slow us down," she said. "Do you think it's enough to throw us in a salt cell? To transport us in a steel box on a train? Or lower us into a salt mine? Do you really think any of your procedures are rehabilitating my kind? Preparing us to integrate into society?" She bubbled with a laughter that was as sharply edged as pointed icicles hanging from a rooftop. It was unsettling. Everything about this meeting was unsettling. Time for it to end.
I got up from the table and crossed my arms over my chest. "We don't work with the fae. Not with you. Not with Simon. I work alone."
"Aw, now I wish you hadn't said that." She sighed, stood up, and took her cup in her hand. When she touched the sword, it shrank back down to a pocket-sized dagger. She slipped it into her coat pocket.
"You don't have to answer now," she said, as though I hadn't just refused. "This is a big decision. Take your time to think about it...We will meet again."
She flashed a smile of brilliant white teeth. "By the way, in case it wasn't clear, I was impressed with your work last night. You really shouldn't be so hard on yourself. You're so much more than you believe."
She pushed past me, slipping into a crowd of teenagers on their way out the door. I turned to follow, but by the time I got to the street, I only caught a glimpse of her heading west down the sidewalk, pulling the fuchsia beret over her bright hair. A big dog trotted out of the alley and took up a position alongside her—a big, fluffy, white dog that looked an awful lot like an oversized white wolf.
She reached down and scratched behind its ears, and the pair of them went on their merry way with no one around them the wiser. I was the only one with my eyes on them. How was that? How did all the people on this busy street not see a brightly coloured young woman with a big white wolf?
Just how powerful was she?
7
I went back into the cafe. The drinks were gone from the table I'd shared with Ruby. Vanished. I had no idea if it was Ruby's doing or if the cafe employees had cleaned the table.
Probably best I hadn't accepted the drink she'd provided, no matter how thirsty I was.
Another couple now occupied our table. A crowd of teenagers entered and zoomed around to snap up the remaining vacant tables, unzipping their jackets and removing their toques as they went. I pulled my coat tighter around me, still chilled to the bone.
I ordered a coffee and a sandwich. It was after lunch and the boss might be curious about my absence from the office, so I got my food to go.
While I was waiting, I glanced up and looked out the window.
Simon.
He stood outside the window of the cafe, the tails of his tight-fighting, long black coat flapping in the wind. The collar was flipped up. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his eyes, intensely focused on me.
I shuddered.
Holy crap. Saying his name seemed to have summoned him.
Shit.
I hadn’t meant to summon him; I had no information about the missing fae for him. He wasn't going to like this.
Er… Think, think, think.
I had to come up with something.
He continued to stand there outside. Waiting.
No way did I want to go back out there. I motioned for him to come into the cafe, but he didn't budge. He gave no sign of having understood my waving at all.
Fine. He could wait, then.
A staff member behind the counter indicated my order was ready. I grabbed it and headed back out into the cold.
"It's freezing out here." I sounded like a whiny little girl, but I didn't care. Hunger gnawed at my stomach. I would be a much more pleasant person after I ate my sandwich.
"There are people in there," he said as though it explained everything and was immensely distasteful.
"So?"
"They will overhear our conversation, something I think you would wish to avoid. We could talk inside your vehicle if you are uncomfortable out here."
Shit. My car was
still back at Union Station.
"My vehicle is..." I didn't quite know how to explain to Simon that I'd been magically transported here by Ruby Blackthorn. I suspected telling him about Ruby might be a bad plan.
Simon turned at the waist and pointed down the street.
What—? My car was parked down the road, next to a fire hydrant.
Ruby must have transported it too.
Simon straightened and raised an eyebrow. Yeah, it probably looked weird that I had no idea where I'd parked my car, but I sighed. "My heater's busted. It's as cold in there as it is out here."
"I have a solution, but I don't think you'll like it."
"Here's a tip: don't ever tell me what to think."
His voice was warm and smooth. "Step closer to me."
"Yeah, I don't think so." I was already a mere three feet from him.
He shrugged as if to say "I told you so" and said, "I can keep you warm."
He probably could. No doubt he had some kind of internal heating system that allowed him to function in this weather since he was currently without a hat, mittens, scarf, or parka and showing no signs of noticing the frigid temperature. I, on the other hand, was also without those items and I was freezing, trembling from the cold.
"No, thanks. I have a personal policy about staying out of reach of faeries unless I'm slapping cuffs on them."
Even though I'd turned down moving closer to him, he took a step closer to me, his eyes lit with challenge. It wasn't like the heat was pouring off him to be swept away by the cold wind. It was more like being caught inside a bubble filled with warm air. My teeth stopped chattering. My knees stopped knocking. I could think clearly. I should have argued and made him step back, but dammit. I was weak. I liked being warm.
"Now tell me why you called me here," he said.
Didn't I wish I knew?
"Does that summoning thing work on all faeries?" I asked. "So, like, if I know a fae's name, I can just utter it and they'll show up?"
He rolled his eyes and drew in a long breath through flared nostrils.
"No," he said.
"Then how does it work?"
"It's a specific form of communication between you and me. That is all."
There was something he wasn't saying. "Just you?"
"Unless you're setting up communication with others of my kind?"
"So…what if I start interviewing a witness and his name is Simon? Will you show up if I say his name?"
"Is this what you called me here for?"
I faked remorse. "I'm sorry. Were you busy?"
"Do you have information on the Summer Court disappearance or not?"
"Actually, I have questions. The last time we met, you said there are delicate negotiations taking place. What's being negotiated?"
Simon scowled. "That is fae business, not yours."
"Understanding what's at stake, who wins and who loses, will help me figure out who's behind it."
"There are limits to what I can tell you," he said. "I'll have to discuss this with the other interested parties."
"You also said your Court, that is the Spring Court, wasn’t behind the disappearance. So that leaves the Winter and Autumn Courts, right?"
"For a start."
"There’s more?"
"There are those who do not belong to a Court."
I raised my eyebrows. "How many of those are we talking about?"
"Locally or worldwide?"
"Locally."
He shrugged. "Thousands. Millions. I cannot account for all their whereabouts. That’s not my responsibility."
"They are fae without masters, yes? No one to rule them? No one to give them rules and limitations? And you don’t know where they are? Shouldn’t you know for security reasons?"
"We deal with them when we find them."
"How’s that? Do you kill them?"
"If they refuse to align themselves with a Court, then yes."
Good to know. "You also said that if I don’t find the disappeared Court, the reign of Winter would be the harshest ever seen. What did you mean by that? Is the Winter Court opposed to the negotiations? Is this disappearance a distraction, or a negotiation tactic?"
He narrowed his eyes in thought. I couldn't tell if he wanted to tell me but couldn't, or if he was surprised by my questions and trying to hide his reaction.
"I need to know."
He leaned in and asked, "Is this not the coldest March you’ve ever experienced?"
"This weather? You mean the Winter Court is responsible for this cold snap?"
He drew his mouth in a grim line.
"Can they make it worse than this?"
"Much worse," he said. "After I clarify the restrictions for discussing the negotiations, I'll be in touch. Call me again only if you have some real information. I’m not a walking encyclopedia."
"Hey, you wanted to work with me…" I held up my hands in mock surrender.
He leaned in closer. "I'm warning you. Information, or I will stop responding. Call me in vain again, and you can consider our arrangement null and void."
The moment he turned and marched away, the warm bubble burst and the bitter wind sucked away all my residual body heat. One minute, Simon strode the sidewalk as a dark-haired man in a long black overcoat, and the next he was a robin in flight, soaring higher into the sky.
I hurried to my car with my cold coffee and frozen sandwich, anxious to move it before the tow truck arrived, wondering who in the hell still used an encyclopedia.
I returned to the office, warmed my coffee in the microwave, and settled down at my desk to eat the sandwich. I unwrapped it from the plastic and found the lettuce had crystallized in the cold and sat limp and shrivelled between soggy bread. Wonderful.
I'd barely taken a bite when the boss barrelled in through the door. At six and a half feet and built like a linebacker, Dagger Magnusson was a force to be reckoned with. At the moment, he thundered like Thor. You could practically see the storm clouds billowing around him as he strode straight into his office, his beige trench coat streaming like a cape.
"Ivory," he barked.
"Yes, boss." I got up and trailed behind him, catching the door before it closed.
Magnusson's office had giant stacks of paper spread out over every available surface, from the desk in the middle of the room to the filing cabinets in every corner and down to the floor. The paper mountains—copies of cold case files, courtesy of Metro PD—continued up the wall, obstructing large sections of various maps of the greater metropolis of Toronto. One of the most important rules I'd learned when I first started here was not to ask about the poster of Garfield the cat giving the thumbs up, or the matching mug on the desk. So, of course, I'd asked. In response, Magnusson had given me his trademark icy stare and said very simply, "He makes me laugh."
And then I was immediately assigned floor-washing duty.
Currently, Magnusson stared at glossy photos spread across his desk. He reached over to his phone and hit the intercom button.
"Bodies coming your way," he said.
"Understood," Oshaun replied.
Magnusson hit the button to end the call. Sometimes I marvelled at how well they understood each other when so few words were exchanged.
"We got another case?" I asked, pulling a chair up to his desk.
"Consultation, at this point."
Sometimes the boss did a little consulting for the cops when they ran out of leads. The fact that they were sending bodies to be examined here suggested they were beyond perplexed this time.
"What is it?"
"Looks like spontaneous combustion," he said, handing me a file. "PD's lab can't find an accelerant and no one's come up with a reasonable explanation for why nothing else in the room is burned."
I scanned the reports. "Three bodies in three days. Wow. I'm surprised it's not all over the news."
"The coroner wants to rule a medical cause, but the cops don't want a mass panic."
Imagine if people
thought they were going to catch a disease while walking down the street and could spontaneously burst into flame. Panic would be an understatement.
"Traditionally, spontaneous human combustion has been explained by either someone falling asleep while smoking or through a process having something to do with ketosis. Oshaun will know if a medical explanation is plausible. What else did you notice about the victims?"
"They're all female and single," I replied.
"And in otherwise good health."
I flipped through the women's ID photos. "Very pretty despite the efforts of the Ministry of Transportation to make us all look like criminals on our drivers’ licences."
Magnusson made a noncommittal sound in his throat. "We need more information," he said, taking the reports from me. "PD is working through each vic's medical history, with particular interest in surgeries, injections, and consumables. They're also looking into cosmetics."
"And they won’t find anything because there's a faerie involved somehow," I said.
Magnusson’s left eyebrow twitched, and that was enough of a confirmation for me.
"This came out of your meeting with the police chief?" I said.
"That, and they want full disclosure on all of our cases."
I sucked in a breath. "They can’t have it."
"So I said. I’m waiting on a return call from our official contact at CSIS."
"You’re not available to track down Flint with me?"
Magnusson's brow furrowed. "I'm working on getting you a new partner—"
"No. No partners," I said quickly. Not after the last one.
"I know things have been hard after Thatcher—"
"And Harry."
"I can't always be available—"
"Fine. I work alone. It's easier for everyone. End of discussion." To drive my point home, I stood up, tossed the file onto the desk, and stormed out of the room.
He opened his mouth to protest, but just at that moment, his phone rang.
Good.
I'd watched his reaction when I mentioned my first partner, the man who'd taught me everything and then suddenly moved to Alaska to retire. Harry.
I'd never questioned his retirement. I'd never questioned that he'd never called or visited. Not until now.
Winterstruck: an urban fantasy supernatural crime thriller Page 5
