Iron Bones

by Yasmine Galenorn

  Chapter 12

  THE FOMORIANS WERE a race of giants who had long been mortal enemies of the Fae. In the past, they went up against the Tuatha de Danann. Elatha, the Prince of Darkness, was not only one of the ancient kings of the giants, he was one of the most crafty, and the most glorious. Unlike the majority of Fomorians, Elatha had shining hair, the color of spun gold, and was rumored to be one of the most beautiful rulers ever to live.

  “Elatha…where is he? Do we know?” I leaned forward, clutching the table.

  Ferosyn shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not, but he was seen in this area about four months ago. And if he’s here, chances are good Ranna is as well. He never went anywhere without her.”

  “Elatha?” Angel looked confused.

  “Yes, he was one of the rulers of the Fomorian giants. They’re the mortal enemies of the Fae. They hate each other, almost as much as the Light and the Dark hate each other. They were constantly at war and one of the only forces that could unite both Courts, even if only for the time of the battle.”

  “Are we talking actual giant giants?” She still looked skeptical.

  Viktor nodded. “Giants and ogres come from the same family tree, though we diverged at some point. Giants tend to be larger than ogres, but their disposition varies far more than my people. I’m good-natured, but a lot of my father’s people aren’t so friendly. Giants are a mixed bag.”

  “How big are we talking here?” Angel asked. “At least, with the Fomorians?”

  “Eight to nine feet on average. Some a bit taller, others perhaps a foot shorter.” Herne pulled out his phone. “I’m going to text my mother. She may have some information on Ranna’s movements, or maybe she can ask my grandfather if he knows anything. Ranna may be one of the Force Majeure but make no mistake, she’s loyal to Elatha.”

  “What else should we know about him? I truly think he was the force in my dreams who was killing the Fae. Either I saw images of the past, or a premonition of the future.” I pulled out my tablet and prepared to take notes. No way was I going to be caught off guard. The shadowed force in my dreams had been terrifying, and I had learned what it felt like to be hunted down.

  “Elatha’s court not only includes giants who are loyal to him, but a number of Fachans, as well as the Bocanach. They’re all considered part of the Fomorian kingdom.” Ferosyn looked queasy.

  “What are they?” I asked, my fingers poised over the keyboard on my tablet.

  Talia paled. “I can answer that one. The Fachans are a branch of the Fomorians. Unlike their taller cousins, they stand around five feet tall, and they are one-armed, one-legged, and one-eyed creatures. They’re deadly with magic, and they all wield forms of elemental magic—although most often earth-based energy in nature. They are loyal to their masters, to a fault.”

  “They sound horrifying.” Angel grimaced. “What about the…what are the others?”

  “Bocanach,” Herne said. “The Bocanach are a race of goat-headed men. They’re the brawn that make up a good share of Elatha’s army. Or they did, back when he was at his height of power. They’re slaves, but again, loyal and dedicated to whatever their king orders. They usually stand about six feet high, and they prefer to fight with spears and long, razor-sharp scythes.”

  My stomach lurched. “Fuck. This sounds bad. Do you think Elatha still has them? I mean, his followers? Or is there a chance they’ve been lost over time? And where has he been hiding out all these centuries?”

  “I think we should count on him still having enough followers to cause trouble. As to where he’s been, he was last seen over the Great Sea, so he must have returned from there. I’ll ask my mother to check into that as well. I can imagine that he might have been ousted from Annwn and driven back here.” Herne ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it back away from his face. “If we’re right, if this all checks out, then we’re sitting on a powder keg. Taking down a Fomorian King? Not so much in my wheelhouse. Even the gods couldn’t destroy him.”

  “If the gods couldn’t stop him, how the hell are we supposed to?” Yutani let out a disgruntled sigh. “Well, we have something to go on, at least. What now? If we need the rest of the bones, I guess we should get a move on and figure out how to find them.”

  “It’s simple. We’re going camping. Or rather, hiking. We’ll hike up to Cavanaugh Peak, and following the hints from that legend, we look for the bones. We’ll leave tomorrow, at six a.m. to beat rush hour traffic. Given it will be at least an hour’s drive, and then a three- to four-hour hike, we should take camping gear with us in case we need to stay the night. I’m not placing bets on traipsing around and just stumbling over the bones right away.” Herne motioned to Yutani. “Is your arm good enough to go?”

  Yutani had caught his arm in a trap on Whidbey Island about six weeks before, when he was running in his coyote form, and while it had healed up, it still seemed on the tender side.

  “Yeah, I’m good. I don’t walk on my arms. Well, at least not in human form.” He grinned, then—a rare smile flashing out. It had become a game with Angel and me, trying to make him smile. He played along good-naturedly but, more often than not, all we could cadge out of him was a brief grin.

  “What’s the weather like up there?” I asked. “I assume hiking boots, jeans, rain ponchos?”

  “The elevation on Cavanaugh Peak reaches close to four thousand feet at the top, so it’s a steep climb and we could be in for some serious weather.” Viktor checked his weather app. “Yeah, potential thunderstorms. Lovely. Well, try to avoid coming dressed as a walking lightning rod.”

  “Will do.” I wrinkled my nose at him, laughing. “I generally don’t head into the mountains covered in metal bling.”

  “All right.” Herne pointed to Viktor. “You, please gather camping gear for the four of us. Yutani, figure out the food situation. Given Ember’s ability with cooking I have no intention on leaving it up to her.”

  “Hey, I resent that,” I said.

  “Can you deny it?” Herne challenged me.

  I stared at him a moment longer, then shook my head. “Nope. Not even going to try. I barely know my way around a stove, let alone cook over a campfire. What should I do?”

  “You and I are going to talk to Marie Shill, the owner of the Constantine Catering Express. I want to ask her about how she came to hire Nigel. Maybe we can uncover a clue where to find Elatha, given my bets are that he placed the advertisement in the HLA forums.” He shuffled his papers. “How many of the bones do you need, Ferosyn? To make an antidote?”

  Ferosyn shrugged. “At least two good-sized rib bones. But I’ll tell you this: you do not want to leave the rest of the skeleton there, because if Elatha returns for it, he could—”

  “I know,” Herne said. “Wipe out the Fae race. All right, we’ll bag and tag every bone we can find.” He looked around. “I guess that wraps it up. Talia, text me the caterer’s address? I wrote it down, but I’m not sure where I put the note. Angel, go ahead and contact Rhiannon of the Foam Born Encampment and make arrangements to transfer the savine boys to her. I don’t have time to deal with them, but this should give them a decent start.”

  “Will do,” Angel said.

  We gathered our things, said good-bye to Ferosyn, and headed to our offices.

  “READY?” HERNE PEEKED in my office.

  I grabbed my purse and followed him into the elevator. “Where’s the catering company located?”

  “It’s not far from here. Their headquarters are near the Seattle Center. Constantine Catering Express is one of the most prestigious catering companies around, which is no doubt why the Courts Management Organization chose to use them. They have a stellar reputation and are in high demand.”

  “If Marie Shill owns it, then who’s Constantine?” I slid into the passenger seat of Herne’s SUV and fastened my seat belt.

  “Talia says that he was Marie’s husband. He died during a home invasion about five years ago, and Marie
kept the company going. She built it from a steady mid-range business to what it is today. I gather Constantine wasn’t the best businessman, but Marie has an eagle eye.”

  He eased away out of the parking garage and we were off. As we navigated through the weekend traffic—which was always rough on a sunny weekend—I watched out the window. Shoppers crowded the streets—some with bags and parcels hanging off their arms, others perusing the window displays. The ever-present streeps were begging for spare change or playing music on the corners, and the entire city had a holiday feel to it.

  “What are we going to do if it really is Elatha behind this?”

  Herne was silent for a moment as he made a left turn. Then, as we were headed north on Westlake Avenue, he finally answered. “Ember, I don’t think there’s any doubt that he’s behind it. Ferosyn is positive. As to what do we do? I’m stumped at the moment. Cernunnos can’t really get involved unless the Fomorians start waging war against the Fae, or vice versa, and the battle spills out into the streets and begins to affect humans. Morgana might be able to dip her toes in the water, but we may just be up the creek on this one. If they begin to wage a covert war, we may just have to let it happen.”

  I shook my head. “Herne, you know for a fact once Névé and Saílle find out who’s behind the iron plague that there isn’t a chance in hell they won’t retaliate. They’ll escalate this. If they can find out where Elatha is staying, they’ll be on him like white on rice.” One thing I did know about my people is that they weren’t about to take an attack lying down. “Revenge” was one of the Fae’s favorite words.

  “I know,” Herne said. “Trust me, I know. I’m afraid we may find our business picking up once this all breaks into the open. The Fae will play dirty and they’ll play to win.”

  “I’d say that, given Elatha’s opening volley, that gate’s already been breeched.” I paused. My mind had been running in a dozen different ways over the past couple of days. “Have you ever met him? Elatha?”

  Herne shrugged. “No. But my father has. And my mother, I believe, was involved in one of the last wars that was waged before Elatha went across the Great Sea to Annwn.”

  “I suppose if he’s Morgana’s enemy, then he’s mine as well.”

  “Sweetheart,” Herne said gently, “Elatha is the enemy of everyone with a drop of Fae blood in them. If you don’t see him as an enemy now, he’ll make damned sure you do by the time he’s done with you. In the Fomorians’ book, the only good Fae is a dead one.” Herne swung left onto Denny Way. Shortly before the Seattle Center, we turned onto Taylor and parked. “Here we are.”

  To my right, I saw the Constantine Catering Express sign hanging in a window, paired with a sign that read brenda’s bakery. I shouldered my purse as Herne joined me on the sidewalk and we headed into the building.

  The catering company reminded me of a bridal store, probably because of all the wedding cakes that were on display. Two tables, with two chairs each, sat to our right. To the left, benches lined the walls, a waiting area by the display case, which offered up a host of baked goods, all looking so good I wanted to buy every single one.

  “Brenda must be one hell of a baker.” I glanced around as a woman entered from the back, behind the case.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “We’d like to talk to Marie. Please tell her Herne’s here, from the Wild Hunt.” Herne didn’t wait for an invitation, but walked over to one of the tables and sat down, motioning for me to follow him. I joined him, settling into the chair.

  Two binders sat on the table, one for the bakery and one for the catering company. I opened the bakery binder, to see page after page of wedding cakes, birthday cakes, and just about any other occasion you could think of, along with prices and the number of servings. After the cakes were a couple pages offering bulk deals on doughnuts, pastries, and other goodies.

  “I think we should buy a cake,” I muttered.

  Herne snorted. “You planning on proposing to me?”

  “Wipe that grin off your face before I do it for you,” I said, blushing. “And no, for your information, I am not proposing to you. They just all look so good.”

  “We’ll buy a box of doughnuts to take back to the office before we leave,” he promised.

  At that moment, a short blond woman wearing an apron came bouncing out of the back. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel as she joined us at the table and sat down on the opposite side.

  “Hello welcome to Constantine Catering Express—I’m Marie Shill the owner—you called this morning right?” The words came out in a stream and I swear, the woman wouldn’t know a comma if she met one. She thrust out her hand.

  “Right. I’m Herne, owner of the Wild Hunt Agency. This is Ember, one of our investigators.” Herne shook her hand, and then she offered it to me.

  After the pleasantries were out of the way, Marie cleared her throat. “What can I do for you? You said it was urgent, about one of our waiters who served at Fae Day.”

  “Do you remember Nigel Henderson?” Herne pulled out his tablet and opened it.

  Marie squinted for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I do. We tried to find him to pay him afterward, but couldn’t get hold of him. Is that what this is about? Because I have his check in the back, if he wants it.” She seemed worried, and I realized that she must think he had sent someone to put the arm on her for his money.

  Herne picked up on it, too. “No, no—we’re not here on his behalf. We just have some questions about how you came to hire him. Did the recommendation come from your usual staffing service? How does the hiring process work with your company?”

  Marie stared at us for a moment. “I never hire anyone who isn’t legally capable of working in this country.”

  Another concern. I smiled at her. “We’re not from immigration. Who recommended him? And what happened to your usual waiter? We understand he had an accident shortly before you hired Nigel?”

  She still looked confused, but seemed to relax. “Yes, John is one of my usual contractors. You see, I keep a list of twenty wait staff on hand. When I need someone for a job, I start with the next name on the list. I may need two waiters, or fifteen, so I cycle through to be fair. For Fae Day, I needed everybody on board. John called the day before and told me he had been hit by a hit and run driver, and he was laid up in the hospital with a broken leg.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “Well, everybody was already working who was on my list, so I normally would call a day labor company. Oddly enough, not even an hour before John contacted me, someone from FMR Day Labor called asking if I had any positions open. I said no, and they left their number. When John called, it seemed like fate had stepped in to save my ass. I called FMR back and hired Nigel. I thought I could add him to my roster if he was good enough. I told FMR where he should show up and what he’d be doing.” She was worrying her lip. “Did I make a mistake?

  I stared at the table. How could we tell her that, by allowing Nigel to work at Fae Day, she had given him access to kill dozens of people? It would devastate her.

  “What did he do?” She tensed, hands clutching the table as she leaned forward.

  Herne paused for a moment, then said, “Something you’re better off not knowing. If you could just answer our questions, it would be best.” He kept his voice low, and turned around to make certain nobody else was in the shop. “You say you tried to contact FMR Day Labor about him after Fae Day?”

  Marie paled. “Yes. I normally give paychecks the next day, but he didn’t come in to pick up his. I had planned on getting his information then. So I called FMR, but their number was disconnected.”

  “Thank you, that’s all.” Herne stood. “Next time, go through already vetted contracting companies. And you might as well just tear up that check. Nigel won’t ever be coming in for it.”

  She looked confused, but nodded. “All right, though I wish you would tell me what he did.”

  “N
o, trust me. You don’t want to know.” I pushed to my feet. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Is there anything else I can do for you? I feel like I haven’t been any help at all.” She was still looking at loose ends.

  “You can box us up a couple dozen assorted doughnuts and pastries,” I said, pulling out my wallet and giving her a smile. “My mouth’s been watering since we walked in.”

  Marie moved over to the counter. “They’re on the house. I have a feeling you’re sparing me from something that I wouldn’t be able to shake off.”

  She quickly boxed up two dozen decadent pastries. As she handed us the boxes, she caught my gaze, and I could tell she was trying to get a better read on the situation, but I merely smiled, thanked her for the pastries, and followed Herne out to the car.

  “I feel bad, leaving her confused like that,” I said as we pulled away from the curb.

  “Better than having her beat herself up for allowing a murderer to poison her ginger chicken and kill dozens of people.” Herne switched lanes as we headed back to the office. “Something like that can destroy a person’s confidence for good. She would probably blame herself, and what good would that do? She didn’t know what Nigel was up to.”

  “True. And that would just be allowing Nigel to ruin one more life.”

  BACK AT THE office, I called Marilee and rescheduled my appointment for that evening. Given we were going to be out of town the next day, and Morgana wanted me to start right in working with her, I didn’t want to wait much longer before having my first session.

  “I can see you this afternoon. Can you come over now?”

  “Let me check with Herne.” I darted into his office. “Hey, Marilee can move my appointment to today, but I need to go now. Can I duck out early, given it’s Saturday?”

  He waved me on. “Sure. Be ready and downstairs by five-thirty tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up at your place. We’re taking my SUV.”