by N. P. Martin
The woman went to reach into her purse. "How much do I…"
"You already paid me."
The woman seemed even more confused now. "Right, okay…"
I opened the door for the woman as she left the shop, still mightily confused it seemed. When she left I locked the door and then turned to look at Dalia. "Really? That poor woman didn’t know what hit her."
Dalia sighed as she sat behind the desk. "I get bored in here. If you don’t want me amusing myself with the customers, find someone proper to work here."
"I will, when I get a chance."
Dalia smiled. "If Chance gets a chance."
I shook my head at her. "Is that supposed to be funny?"
"No, I just felt like saying it. How was your first day at work for Iolas? Did you crack any skulls, break any fingers…squeeze any balls?"
"Not really." I leaned over the desk, opened the top drawer and took out the whiskey bottle, which was almost empty. Then I found a glass and emptied the bottle into it.
"I bet your elven beauty did, though, right?"
"Amelia may have kicked some ass."
"Amelia? On first name terms now, are we?"
"Well, yes, since I have to work with her."
"How long are you going to keep this charade up?"
"Until I don’t have to." I took a drink of the whiskey. "Until I prove Iolas killed me ma."
"You’re still convinced he did it." It was more of a statement than a question.
"At this point, he’s the only viable suspect."
"In your mind anyway. For all you know there could be some fucking hood from Finglas running about out there trying to fence your ma’s jewelry."
I stared at her, indignant, but only because I knew she could be right. "Don’t get a stick up your arse just because I caught you violating a customer."
She made a huffing noise and shook her head. "Violating…I don’t violate anybody. That woman now has less pain inside her than when she came in."
"Oh, so you did her a favor then. My bad."
"I can’t help what I am, Corvin. As long as no one gets hurt…"
I couldn’t help but laugh. "Whatever." Reaching into my pocket, I took out the autopsy report and showed it to her. "Iolas gave me this."
"What is it?" Dalia sat up straight in her chair, her curiosity piqued it seemed. "A cease and desist order?"
"No, smartass, it’s me ma’s autopsy report."
The smile vanished from her face. "Oh, sorry."
"I thought you could look over it, since you’d probably understand it better than me."
Before Dalia was taken by the Fae, she was studying medicine at Trinity. She didn’t have long left in her studies before she was snatched away, which made her practically a real doctor in my eyes. "Let me see."
I gave her the report and she sat and read over it for a few minutes while I finished of the whiskey in my glass. "Well?" I asked her. "Anything interesting in there? Iolas says there is."
Dalia frowned for a moment as she read the report, then said, "This can’t be right."
"What is it?"
"It says here that Teresa didn’t die from her stab wound, and her main cause of death was massive internal bleeding."
"Caused by what?"
Dalia shook her head. "It doesn’t say. Whoever did the autopsy couldn’t figure it out."
"So something was done to her before or after she was stabbed?"
"Before, I’d say, just going by this report."
I stared hard at the floor for a moment as I thought things over. "Massive internal bleeding…what could’ve caused that?"
"Trauma," Dalia said. "The report indicates that Teresa’s internal organs were severely damaged and that she had multiple broken bones, but yet her body contained no bruising or the external signs of trauma one would expect from such injuries."
My face darkened as I suddenly realized something. "She was killed by magic, that’s why there was no external damage." I should’ve picked up on the presence of magic at the time, but I was too distraught to notice obviously.
"And the stab wound?"
"A half-assed attempt to make her death look like a robbery."
"Hence the missing jewelry."
"Exactly."
My jaw tensed as I clenched my teeth. It felt like Iolas was playing with me, and I didn’t like it. Telling me how interesting the autopsy report was…what was that about? I was convinced now more than ever that he had something to do with the murder, if not directly then certainly indirectly.
"Are you okay, Corvin?" Dalia put her hand on my leg and left it there.
I nodded, my neck stiff. "I can’t believe I missed something so fucking obvious."
"Your mother was dying, Corvin. No one could blame you for missing the signs."
Getting off the desk, I stood up and put both hands on my head, as though I was trying to stop my skull from splitting. "This doesn’t change anything, except for the fact that we now know this wasn’t a simple robbery. It was calculated murder by magic."
Dalia shook her head. "I don’t understand," she said. "Teresa was strong, magically speaking. How could someone do that to her?"
"She probably fought back. I know she would’ve."
"But it wasn’t enough."
I sighed. "No."
"Do you think she was stabbed first, to weaken her?"
"Maybe. Does it say anything about the knife that was used?"
Dalia glanced at the autopsy report for a moment, and then shook her head. "No much, just that it was a curved blade. The length of a blade is hard to determine, although…" She read the report again.
"What?"
"There were trace amounts of metal found around the wound."
"Is that normal?"
"No, not really."
"Does it say what kind of metal?"
"Unknown."
I frowned. "What does that mean? Unknown origin or just unknown?"
"Unknown origin."
"Which means the blade used was most likely magical as well, maybe made from Obryx like goblin knives, or…"
"Or what?"
"Dudrasium, like elven blades."
"That’s just speculation, Corvin."
"Maybe, at this point, but I know a way we might be able to find out for sure."
"How?"
"I know a guy," I said. "A friend of me ma’s. He’s a forensic scientist, but he specializes in deaths involving magic amongst other things."
"What, you think he’ll be able to identify the knife?"
"I hope so, and maybe even the fingerprints on the magic that was used."
"Sounds like a long shot."
I stared at her. "When it comes to me ma, no shot is too long."
Dalia nodded. "I know."
Later that day, I got a phone call from Monty. "I did that digging you asked me to do," he said.
I was in the flat, preparing to meet up with Amelia. Earlier, I stupidly told Dalia that I was planning on going out with Amelia and she ended up leaving in something of a huff, though Lord knows why as I’m hardly going on a damn date, and even if I was, what was it to her anyway?
"What did you find out?" I asked Monty as I looked into the mirror and contemplated shaving, before shaking my head and deciding against it.
"It seems Iolas 'as bought up most av dat industrial estate. A few more purchases an' 'e’ll own de whole place."
"Why would he do that?"
"Oi don’t feckin’ nu," Monty said. "Maybe he needs de storage space."
"For what?"
"His cuddly toy collecshun perhaps?"
I chuckled. "I doubt that."
"Well, your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, oi 'av ter go now."
"Thanks Monty, I appreciate your help."
"Naw problem, bro. Keep me informed, won’t yer?"
"I will."
A moment later, a horn sounded outside. I went to the window and saw Amelia’s Dodge parked on the street below. "Time to do
some digging," I said as I went down to meet her.
14
To say that Amelia looked stunning would be an understatement. She had on a black velvety-looking top that revealed a fair amount of her milky-white and perfectly sized breasts, below which was a short, pleated skirt the same color as her hair. Knee length boots finished off the outfit, topped by a pair of expensive sunglasses. As I walked into the Library Bar situated in the Central Hotel just of George’s Street, my scruffy self felt completely outclassed by Amelia’s radiant beauty. Even the waiters gave me a look which said, "She’s a bit out of your league mate, isn’t she?" They may have been right, except I wasn’t here to court Amelia, I was here to glean information on Iolas. Although, if I’m being completely honest, I was also here because I couldn’t help but be interested in Amelia, especially since I had already glimpsed something of her inner-self.
The interior and couches of the little bar were elegant, making for a serene environment. "This place seems a little stuffy for you," I said after the waiter took our order. "I thought maybe somewhere like the Liquor Rooms or Lillies Bordello would be more your thing, somewhere your elven beauty would radiate rather than get dampened in a place like this."
Taking her sunglasses off, she put them on the table. "Is that what you think I am, some dolly bird who craves attention?"
I shook my head as I thought about what I’d seen and felt as I gazed her soul. "No, far from it actually."
"Then why say it?"
I shrugged. "I suppose I’m a little intimidated by you."
"By me, or by my looks?"
"Probably both, as I’m sure you are as well by my dazzling good looks and winning personality."
She started to laugh and then the waiter turned up with the drinks, putting two glasses and a bottle of expensive whiskey down on the table before walking away again. "What’s the look for?" she asked. "You thought I’d be drinking wine like every other elf does?"
"Yes, but I like your choice."
"I prefer whiskey over wine."
I lifted the bottle and poured a hefty measure into each glass. "Is that because your elven physiology prevents you from getting drunk easily?"
"Something like that."
"Don’t forget you still have to drive."
"I don’t plan on getting that drunk."
"That’s a pity, because I was."
She smiled like she wasn’t surprised. "I won’t stop you."
I winked at her. "You couldn’t if you tried."
Laughing slightly, she said, "Maybe we’ll put your confidence to the test some time."
I raised my glass and she did the same. "I look forward to it."
Our eyes met then for just a few seconds, the dazzling beauty of her blue orbs making it hard for me to look away even if I’d wanted to. There was no getting away from it, I realized, I was massively into Amelia, though I wasn’t sure if the feeling was reciprocated. She was so difficult to read it was hard to tell what she was thinking. On the flip side, she could probably read me like a book, and for all I knew, was reeling me in for some nefarious purpose as instructed to do so by Iolas.
"So who do you normally come here with?" I asked her as I refilled our glasses.
"Myself usually," she replied. "I like to sit here and read while I drink."
I nodded. "What do you like to read?"
"History books mostly. Lately, a lot of alternative history."
"Interesting. I’m something of a history buff myself, Irish history especially."
"Most history is false, written to various agendas, designed to keep people in the dark." She downed her drink like it was just water. "You have to dig deep to get the real truth of things." Her eyes looked into me as she said this last part, as though waiting for some reaction.
"I agree."
"Is that what you’re doing with your mother’s death?" she asked. "Digging deep for the truth?"
"Yes," I said after staring at her a moment. "Of course."
"I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. It must be difficult."
"I guess you’d know."
She nodded. "I do."
"What happened to your parents?"
She looked away for a second, and I thought she was going to shut me out again like she did earlier when I asked her the same question. "They died in a plane crash when I was nine."
"I’m sorry. It must’ve been hard." I knew it was. I’d already felt her pain.
"You bury the pain and carry on."
As admirable as that was, something told me it wasn’t her true sentiment. It sounded more like something Iolas would say. "You think it’s that easy?"
"I didn’t say it was easy."
We lapsed into silence for a few moments. While Amelia stared out the window to the street outside, I stared at her, taking in her flawless complexion and exquisite bone structure. Until I met her, I’d never had much to do with elves, especially female ones. Elves tended to run in their own circles, their beauty and sense of superiority making them intimidating to most others, even to the Untouched, who couldn’t know they were looking at an elf. When an Untouched viewed an elf, all they saw was someone who was rich and looked like a supermodel. That was intimidating enough for most.
"So do you like working for your uncle?" I asked her eventually, trying to get the conversation going again, as she seemed to have retreated into herself slightly, something I noticed she did often, as though her inner pain exerted a constant pull on her.
Amelia sighed slightly at the question. "It’s just what I do."
"I find it hard to believe that you don’t have other talents that don’t involve breaking heads for your uncle."
She smiled. "I write a little."
"Really?" I returned her smile, delighted to hear of her interest in penmanship. "What do you write?"
Amelia shook her head. "You’ll only laugh if I tell you."
"Try me."
"I write historical romance novels."
I stared at her a moment, my smile turning into a mild chuckle. "Not what I expected to hear."
"What?" she said. "You think because of my job that I would write some female version of a Jack Reacher novel instead?"
"Maybe, although now that you’ve told me, I can see you writing historical romance. Do you publish your novels?"
She shook her head as if she’d said too much already.
"Come on," I said. "You have to tell me so I can read one of them. I’d say you publish under a pen name, am I right?"
"You could be."
I lightly banged the table with my fist. "That’s it then, I won’t rest until I get the name out of you."
"I’m not telling."
"I’m sure the books aren’t that bad, are they?"
"The reviews say they aren’t, so I guess not."
I smiled and shook my head at her. "I would never have thought. I can appreciate a woman with hidden depths."
"Can you now?"
"Yes."
She grabbed my hand suddenly, her grip firm. "Let’s see what depths you have then."
"What are you doing?"
"You soul gazed me," she said. "I think it only fair I do the same to you."
Even though I had never let a stranger poke around inside me before, I knew I couldn’t argue with her, especially if I wanted to get her on my side. If I refused, she would take it as a slight and there would be no chance of her trusting me. "All right," I said, a little uncomfortable now over what she might find. I downed the rest of my whiskey. "Do your worst."
As she started the process, I soon felt her presence within me, not in a particularly invasive or violating way, but more in a gently probing sort of way that nonetheless made me feel vulnerable and slightly on edge. While she gazed into my eyes, I imagined her opening doors in my mind, searching for secrets and hidden motivations, running invisible hands over mental scars, churning up my inner-self to see what she could find. By the time she let go of my hand, I was left feeling emotionally raw and som
ewhat embarrassed by what she may have saw or felt. As she continued to look at me, however, I saw mostly indifference in her eyes, elves not being the most empathetic of beings. Though I did also see some form of understanding and perhaps even respect there as well. There was a moment of awkwardness which I chose to fill with polishing off the whiskey in my glass. "I hope it wasn’t too disturbing an experience," I said, looking away from her now as I refilled the glasses.
"It was what I expected mostly," she said, her tone as matter of fact as ever.
Now I was slightly offended. "Really, I’m that predictable to you?"
She smiled and shook her head slightly. "Most humans are predictable. I read once that all humans are nothing more than an algorithm, and no matter what they do or how hard they try to be different, they always end up exhibiting the same kind of behavior as everyone else, as dictated by the algorithm."
"That’s an interesting theory. Do you think it applies to elves as well?"
She shrugged. "Maybe."
"So what did you see in there? You come across any of my dirty little secrets?"
"I saw the moment you found your father was dead," she said bluntly. "I also saw you holding your mother as she died."
I said nothing as I looked away, anger and sadness threatening to well up in me. "Did you now?" I said quietly.
Her response was to suddenly reach out and firmly grip the back of my neck as she pulled me toward her in order to kiss me. I was shocked for a second as her soft lips made contact with mine, but I soon found myself relaxing as I gazed into her eyes, which were unflinching as she held the kiss for another few seconds, before pulling away again.
"What was that for?" I asked her, my lips still tingling from her touch.
"Does there have to be an explanation?"
I shook my head slightly. "No."
"Well then." She refilled our glasses just as her attention was drawn by someone sitting at the bar. "See that guy over there?"
I turned my head slightly to see a large orc sitting at the bar, his glamor concealing his true form from the few Untouched sitting around the room. The orc seemed out of place in his scruffy leather jacket and faded jeans as he sat with his phone in his hand, occasionally making sly glances toward our table. "Who is he? You know him?"
