by Joyce Lavene
Aine smiled.
“What? Don’t banshees use a toilet?”
“Hardly. We are dead, after all. We do not eat, so we do not excrete.”
“Good to know. I’m saving up banshee facts for a special file so I know what to do and not do around you.”
“Then you must use the words correctly,” Aine said. “Beane sidhe. What you’re saying now is hardly appropriate.”
Sunshine tried to say what Aine had said, but they’d reached the basement floor of the building. She used the excuse to back out of her Gaelic language lesson.
They found a set of stairs to the right of the old boiler that heated the building in cold weather. As they walked around it, there were groaning and settling sounds from the huge structure around them. Elevators growled going up and down the shaft and water gushed crankily through old pipes.
Sunshine didn’t try to explain and cautioned Aine not to speak. Caeford lived another floor down. It was always better to be quiet around a dragon if they didn’t know you were coming for a visit. A surprised dragon was rarely a happy dragon.
The stairs were narrow and filthy. Very few people used them. The sub-basement was necessary to the strength of the building’s foundation, but it wasn’t well maintained. Sunshine had found that people didn’t care about what they couldn’t see.
And yet here was Caeford’s lair, their destination, hundreds of feet below ground. He had lived here since long before the city, or the building, hidden away from mankind in a series of caves. He’d adjusted as time had passed, but he never left the area where he’d been born.
As usual he was aware of the intrusion into his life. “Hello, Miss Merryweather. And this is your new associate?” He sniffed Aine. “The beane sidhe you spoke of. How fascinating. A woman of the ancient fairy world here in Norfolk.”
“We’re here because of your ‘little’ problem.” Sunshine wiped her hands on a moist towelette and handed one to Aine. “We went to see the man who watched you fly away. He was dead—murdered in exactly the same way as John.”
Caeford’s large, tough face frowned. “You mean the werewolf. That’s unfortunate.”
“And the scent on the crime scene was the same,” she continued.
“You’re not seriously here to accuse me of killing them. Not here in my den, of all places. No one would be that stupid.”
Sunshine faced him without any sign of fear. “That’s exactly why we’re here. I knew you were sending us to clean up your mess but not to clean up a dead body for you.”
He growled deep in the back of his throat and a single plume of smoke came from one nostril. “It has been more than a century since I partook of human flesh.”
“Is that a threat?” Sunshine demanded.
“No. A fact. Why kill one if you aren’t going to eat it?” His large yellow teeth were exposed to the dim light.
“That is no excuse,” Aine told him. “I hunted a few of your ancestors who killed for sport.”
He roared his anger, the sound bouncing back off the concrete walls making the noise ear splitting. “You dare tell me you hunted my kind?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “And they were tasty too.”
Sunshine put her hand on Aine’s shoulder. “We’re not here to get into a war about who hunted whose ancestors, Caeford. We want the truth about what happened to these men.”
He backed down from his aggressive stance with Aine. “I did not kill the werewolf or the man on the roof. I knew you would handle the potential problem for me, Miss Merryweather. There was no reason to exert myself. This has been the basis of our relationship.”
“Good. You won’t mind if my beane sidhe gives you a sniff then?”
His yellow eyes widened in fury. “I see. Of course. Her people were very great hunters in the past—feared and tenacious. They made the werewolf look incompetent.” He lowered his head to their level. “Please. Give me a good sniff, beane sidhe.”
Sunshine hoped that he didn’t take Aine’s head off as he moved closer to her. She wasn’t sure she would have been willing to take on the task, but Aine didn’t seem to mind. She moved in close to Caeford, never losing eye contact with him. Their bodies were nearly touching.
Aine took a deep whiff of the dragon man. His scent was mixed with chemicals and herbs that she didn’t recognize. But underlying it all was the deep, wild smell of dragon. It was completely different from the smell at the crime scenes.
“It’s not him,” she announced without as much as a tremor in her tone. She didn’t move away from him, instead staring into his terrifying eyes. “Someone else is responsible for the deaths.”
Caeford didn’t move either. “I could snap you in half.”
She smiled at him, nothing left of the middle-aged woman in the black cape. The crone with little flesh on her face and body, skeletal hands at her side, stood tall. “You’d find me a tough bit of bone to chew, dragon man.”
He growled but took a step away from her. Sunshine hadn’t realized until that moment that she was holding her breath, while her hands and thoughts were prepared for a spell to protect Aine if necessary.
Aine took a step back too, resuming her mostly human form in the black hood.
“We’re leaving now.” Sunshine tried not to sound as relieved as she felt. “As soon as I have more information, I’ll let you know.”
“Let me know if you need assistance in your quest as well,” Caeford offered. “I don’t want my name and reputation sullied over this mix up.”
“As if anyone without magic would believe a dragon had killed these men,” Sunshine said. “Do you have any idea what might have happened to them?”
“I do not,” he said. “It seems to me that the first murder may have been deliberate and the second only used to throw off the scent of the trail. I’m sure the killer never dreamed of facing a beane sidhe. I have never been particularly interested in a human death. They are all the same to me. Learn what someone gained by killing John Lancaster, the first to die, and you may have all the answers you need. He was a good man-wolf. I should hate to see him go unavenged.”
Sunshine started to thank him when there was a sound above them. Someone else was coming down the stairs into the dragon’s lair.
Chapter Eight
“It is O’Neill,” Aine told her. “He and his partner may have followed us here thinking that we would lead them to the truth.”
Sunshine didn’t ask how she knew who it was before she could see—no doubt the scent of the pair. Bending her head, she began the threads of a magic defense shield that would hide the dragon from the two detectives and four uniformed officers who accompanied them.
“You do not need to hide me, witch,” Caeford roared. “Let them come. I shall slay them all.”
The old concrete pylons shook around them. Dust fell on their heads from the floor above.
“And that’s exactly why you need to be hidden,” Sunshine returned as calmly as if she were giving him a brownie recipe. “It’s part of Purple Door Service. We protect our clients from those who wish them harm, as well as from their own shortsightedness. Be still and let them go, Caeford. Let’s not make this a dragon hunt. We all know how that ends.”
The dragon man was grudgingly silent with only a few smoky breaths that could have given him away. As the police officers entered the sub-basement with guns drawn, there was nothing but a large, empty, concrete cavern. When no real threat was perceived, the officers holstered their weapons as Malto sent them to search the edges of the shadowed perimeter.
O’Neill and Malto stared at the two women they had nearly followed to their deaths.
“Detective O’Neill,” Sunshine greeted him. “Detective Malto. What a surprise. What brings you down here?”
“We could ask you the same thing.” O’Neill stared at Aine. “You two are never far apart, are you?”
“We work together,” Sunshine said. “I could say the same thing about you and your partner.”
“What’s goin
g on down here?” Detective Malto demanded. “What are you two hiding?”
“Hiding?” Sunshine glanced around them. “We’re not hiding anything. We were looking for the long-term parking lot. I’ve been thinking about moving the agency into this building. But the short-term parking is awful. Parking on the street would get to be old after a while. I like the building, but I just can’t see it, can you, Aine?”
“I don’t see anything.” It was the safest answer she could think of since she had no idea what the witch was saying. Anything else could give them away by her ignorance of present-day situations.
“You’re not as dimwitted as you’d like us to think,” O’Neill challenged Aine.
“I’m sure that is true of you as well.”
“I think she just called us stupid,” Malto said. “Isn’t there is a law about badmouthing police detectives?”
“We seem to simply be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Sunshine intervened with a dazzling smile. “I’m sorry you came all the way down here for nothing, detectives. Next time, give me a call, and I’ll tell you what we’re doing. Come on, Aine. Let’s get out of here.”
With nothing to hold them, the police officers and detectives stepped out of their way to allow Aine and Sunshine to ascend the stairs to the next floor.
“What do you think they were really doing down here?” Malto thoughtfully asked her partner.
“I’m not sure I want to know.” He shook his head after taking a look around. “Let’s follow them. There’s something they aren’t telling us.”
“You’re telling me!”
When they’d reached the basement floor, Sunshine used a spell to get herself and Aine out of the building. She was tired of being followed by the police, and there was no harm in getting them out more quickly.
They found themselves on the street next to the purple convertible. It would be a long walk up the stairs to the building’s main floor for the officers, O’Neill, and Malto. Sunshine had temporarily disabled the elevator to slow them down.
“Your magic is quite dizzying,” Aine said as she got in the car. “Different than mine. I know the feel of it now, so I will recognize it in the future.”
Sunshine wasn’t sure if that was a warning or simply an observation. She didn’t pause to think of it there. Instead she started the car and left Caeford’s lair as quickly as evening traffic would allow.
“I knew Caeford wasn’t stupid enough to do something like that,” she said to Aine. “He would’ve taken care of it himself if he had. But that leaves us still guessing why John, and Harley Matthews were murdered.”
“Perhaps the dragon man has given us a good suggestion,” Aine said. “If Harley Matthews’s murder was just a smokescreen for John Lancaster’s death—to lead us in the wrong direction—that could be the only thing the two have in common. Any other inquiry into that line of thinking may lead us nowhere.”
Sunshine hit the purple steering wheel with the palm of her hand in a fit of frustrated temper. “What would someone hope to gain by hiding John’s death from me?”
“You mean besides their life? Whoever killed John would know that you would swear blood vengeance.”
“I suppose that’s true. I’ve never been tempted to kill another living soul—until now.”
“Then we shall need to find the killer to ask that question, but taking the dragon man off our list, who does that leave behind?”
“It’s not easy to kill a werewolf.” Sunshine ran her hand through her hair. “I don’t know what creature could have done it but it had to be strong and there had to be magic.”
“We agree on that. I am unfamiliar with the creatures that dwell here. But surely none have enough magic that they would not fear your reprisal.”
“Hey!” Sunshine smiled at her. “Thanks.”
“It was not a compliment, merely an observation.”
“I see. Well, thanks anyway. I’m kind of powerful. I keep it hidden so no one suspects. I don’t want people to fear me, but it’s nice to be respected.”
Aine agreed. “You are moderately strong. But you certainly have potential.”
Sunshine began going through a list of creatures that could have killed John and were present in the city. “Of course, another werewolf could fit the bill. Definitely Caeford, but he’s one of a kind. I don’t know of another dragon for thousands of miles, although I’ve heard of one in California. A really strong witch could have killed him, but I think we both would’ve sensed that much magic. And I don’t see a witch making a mess like that, do you? There are a few older vampires around but they’re kind of settled, you know?”
“Tame,” Aine added. “What about local demons? Or other shapeshifters—besides one of your mouse woman’s strength. Quite obviously, she could not have killed a wolf.”
“There are other shifters.” Sunshine shrugged. “I’ve met some of them. They could be powerful enough to kill John. I’ll have Jane print a list of them for us to track down.”
They made a quick stop at a small grocery store to resupply the office. When they finally got back to the agency, Jane was waiting anxiously at the door.
“I found something interesting about the man on the roof.” Her eyes were glued on the bags in Sunshine’s arms. “Did you get everything? I’m starving.”
“Yes. I got everything. Show me what you found and you can eat.” Sunshine held the bags away from Jane’s twitching nose and eager hands.
“Oh. Of course. Let’s look at the computer.”
They gathered around the flat-screen monitor. Aine touched a finger to it and watched the screen’s negative response. Sunshine laughed and told her that she should just look at it.
“I did a thorough search.” Jane pulled up several dozen files. “Harley Matthews had some interesting clients at Tattoo Hell, including John.”
“John had a tattoo done there?” Sunshine read quickly through the names on the receipts. “I see quite a few names that I recognize. Amos Johnson is a shifter—some kind of cat.”
Jane yelped and started trembling.
“Don’t worry,” Sunshine told her. “I’m sure he’s not looking for you.”
“Thanks.” Jane squeaked.
“What of the others?” Aine asked.
“Marcus Fletcher is another werewolf.” Sunshine pointed out. “Tom Knox is a shifter. So is Irene Godfrey. It’s like Tattoo Hell is making itself the go-to place for creatures in the area. But why kill John, and who killed Harley?”
Aine glanced at her. “What is the likelihood that this tattoo man was an innocent as he watched Caeford unfurl his wings? Perhaps he was there to challenge the dragon.”
“Surely no human would be stupid enough to challenge a dragon,” Sunshine said thoughtfully.
“I would have said the same about a human challenging a wolf,” Aine added. “In my day, when men hunted a wolf, they went in a large pack, many times with witches who aided them in securing the wolf’s death.”
“Maybe Harley Matthews wanted to get Caeford as a client,” Jane suggested in a timid voice.
“No matter what, it sounds like we need to pay a visit to Tattoo Hell.” Sunshine looked at Aine. “How do you feel about getting a tattoo?”
Jane snatched the food bags from the desk and hurried with them into the kitchen area. Sunshine went to change clothes for something more appropriate and left Aine sitting at the computer.
It was a curious device that the beane sidhe carefully inspected. It didn’t respond to any of her spoken magic. There was a long, black rope coming from it, possibly made of leather. It appeared to be the tail of the beast. She pulled the end of it from a hole in the wall. The colorful, lighted box went dark.
“What did you do?” Jane skittered from the kitchen. “It took me a long time to get that information together. Lucky for you I made copies of everything. You shouldn’t touch things when you don’t understand them.”
Normally Aine’s response to the young woman wouldn’t have been pleas
ant. She wasn’t one to ignore a challenge. Part of her reluctance to do anything but nod to the creature was her background. The other part was expecting something in return.
“Show me. I am very interested in this magic.”
Jane sat down with a careful laugh. “It’s not magic. It’s science. This is a computer. You pulled the plug from the wall where it gets the power. When it stays plugged in, electricity passes from the wall into the machine. This is how you start it.”
Aine watched her movements carefully. As long as O’Neill lived in this place, she would be bound here with him, in one form or another. It was good to learn the things of this time.
“Thank you, Jane. Now show me information on O’Neill as you showed Sunshine about Harley Matthews.”
“Okay. I can do that. He’ll be easier since he works for the police department.” Jane had to wait for the computer to finish rebooting and then typed Sean Patrick O’Neill into the search bar.
Instantly there were hundreds of men with the same name. Jane weeded through them, adding search criteria until she found the man they were looking for. In another moment, everything about O’Neill was on the screen—from his job as a police detective to his home address, the gym where he worked out, the bank he frequented, even the finance company that held the loan on his car.
“See?” Jane smiled brightly at Aine. “And this is only the beginning. If I wanted to, I could tell you what he had for breakfast this morning.”
“What about a lover?”
“You don’t think it’s the other detective, Malto, do you?”
“No. There is no sign of affection between them. There must be another—perhaps the raven-haired woman at the…”
“Pizzeria,” Jane finished for her. “It might take a few minutes, but I can probably find something if there’s a serious woman in his life.”
Aine stood up straight. “Of course there is a woman in his life. The O’Neills have always been susceptible to the female influence.”
