by N. P. Martin
"Where are you?" I shouted.
"De bedroom," came the reply.
Stepping over rubbish on the floor, I made my way to the bedroom. The door was closed, and when I opened it, I stopped dead as I stared at Monty on the bed. He was completely naked, with both arms secured to the bedpost with handcuffs. "What the fuck?" I said, unable to keep from smiling.
"Tank feck you’re 'ere," he said, sighing with relief. "Get me oyt av dees cuffs, 'ill yer?"
I continued to stand by the door with a smile on my face. "What happened? Did someone forget to leave the key?"
"Al' i’m gonna say is, never sleep wi' a witch if she’s taken too many mushrooms."
I shook my head. "What happened?"
Monty made a snorting sound like the whole thing was ridiculous. "Oi wus jist givin' 'er de auld aussie pogue as she sat on me bake loike, when al’ oi did wus—"
"On second thoughts," I said, holding my hand up. "I don’t want to know. Why haven’t you got yourself out this yet?"
"She fecking put a spell on me, didn’t she? Blocked me bleedin’ magic."
"Oh well, I’m sure the spell will wear off soon. I’ll catch you later, bro…" I went to move out the door again.
"Hey! Don’t yer feckin' leave me loike dis!" Monty shouted in a panic.
I burst out laughing. "As much as I’d love to…"
"You’re an arsehole, Chance."
"After the day I’ve had so far, I need a laugh."
"Tell me all about it when you open these fecking handcuffs."
As I approached the bed, I noticed his mobile phone lying there, and I stared at it a minute. "How’d you manage to get your phone?"
Monty puffed his cheeks out for a second. "Wi' deadly feckin' effort, bro, that’s 'oy. Luckily, me jeans were still on de scratcher, an' oi managed ter use me feet ter dig de phone oyt av me pocket."
"So how did you press the buttons?"
A mischievous and very satisfied smile spread across Monty’s face. "Wi’ superior acrobatic skill, that’s 'oy," he said, thrusting his pelvis up slightly.
I couldn’t help laughing. "No way?"
"Yes way." He gazed down at his flaccid penis. "I used me magic wan."
"Unbelievable," I said, still laughing.
"They don’t call me Magic Cock for nathing, bro."
"What, who calls you that?"
"Oi do nigh, after wat oi jist done. Jist open de feckin' cuffs, 'ill yer?"
"Is there a key lying around."
"Dat freaky witch made aff wi' it. You’ll 'av ter use your magic."
Directing my hand over the first set of handcuffs, I said the word, "Rumpus!" A second later, the cuffs broke in half and fell away, freeing Monty’s wrist. Then I did the same thing with the other handcuffs. "There you go, you’re free. Now put some damn clothes on, Magic Cock."
Monty smiled as he sat on the bed rubbing his wrists. "Tanks, bro. Wha wud oi be withoyt yer?"
"Still handcuffed to that fucking bed, poking your phone with your magic wand."
He shook his head. "Roight enough. Do us a favor an' go an' bru up sum coffee while oi git decent."
"It’s a fucking butler you need," I said as I turned to leave the room.
"Are butler’s dear di yer tink? Oi reckon 'avin' a butler wud be great, don’t you?"
I didn’t answer him as I walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Every surface seemed to be covered with empty glasses and bottles. "Jesus Christ, what a mess," I said as I found a black bag and started putting the bottles into it, before filling the dishwasher with the glasses. At least now I had space to make the coffee. Monty could sort the rest out himself.
By the time I had brought two cups of coffee into the living room, placing them on the coke-dusted coffee table, Monty emerged from the bedroom dressed in three-quarter length shorts and a T-shirt that said COME AT ME BRO on it. "Waat a noight," he said looking around, before collapsing onto the couch. "I never even meant ter trow a party."
"You never do," I said, sipping on my own coffee.
Monty smiled. "Yer gotta go wi' de flow, bro, yer nu waat oi mean?" His smile faltered when he saw I wasn’t smiling with him. "What’s up witcha anyway? Did somethin' 'appen ter yer? Yer luk a bit 'aunted dare."
Haunted was as good a way as any to describe how I was feeling. "A lot of shit has gone down."
"Loike whaa?"
I proceeded to tell him about the phone call from Iolas, and what followed after. "He’s a fucking psychopath," I said, referring of course to Iolas. "He just broke that guy’s neck like it was nothing."
"That's fucked up. I’m sorry yer 'ad ter see dat, bro."
"So am I."
"Maybe yer shud jist back aff nigh, before yer end up wi' a snapped neck as well."
I threw him a look. "I’m not backing off anything."
Monty nodded. "Fair enoof. I’m jist sayin', yer shud be careful especially after waaat oi foun' oyt aboyt Iolas."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, oi dug a wee bit further into Iolas’ business dealings."
I sat forward in my seat. "What did you find out?"
"It seems Iolas 'as been buyin' up properties al' over de country," Monty said. "A lot av businesses an' industrial properties. Most av dem bought within de last year or so."
"Why would he buying those kinds of properties?" I wondered aloud. "And why so many?"
"I don’t nu, bro, but oi did discover somethin' else."
"What?"
"Iolas 'as a silent partner in most av dees deals, whaich wasn’t easy ter fend oyt. Oi only stumbled across it by accident whaen oi looked at de deeds for a factory buildin' he bought."
"So who’s his partner?"
Monty looked at me gravely. "Prince Constantine."
I stared at him moment and then shook my head. I didn’t even need to ask if he was sure, because I knew he was. He just confirmed what I’d know all along, and what my mother had known as well, which is that Iolas and Constantine had formed some sort of partnership. "Two psychopaths working together, but to what end?"
"Not sure, bro," said with a shrug. "But wi' a vampire an' an elf workin' together, de outcum can’t be gran'. Oi tart de vampires only kept ter their own kind anyway?"
"They usually do."
"Maybe they’re tryin' ter take over de country." Monty was smiling when he said it, but it didn’t sound like a joke to me. It was entirely possible that Iolas and Constantine had concocted some nefarious plan between them.
"Did you find anything else out?"
"Naw, jus dat, but i’m sure it’s enoof ter go ter de council wi', roi?"
"The Council?" I shook my head. "I’m not going to the Council with anything. They’ve already made it clear that they won’t go up against Iolas or Constantine when it comes to the crunch. They swept both my parents’ murders under the fucking rug."
"So waat ye 'eadin' ter do? Take Iolas an' Constantine on yerself?"
I placed my half empty coffee cup on the table and sat back in the couch, suddenly aware of the dagger inside my jacket as its weight pressed against my ribs. "If I have to."
"Yer won’t 'av ter," Monty said. "i’ll alwus go into battle witcha, bro."
"Into battle?"
"Waaat else do yer tink it’s gonna be? Iolas an' Constantine aren’t de type ter take things lyin' down."He paused while he stared at me a moment. "They’re gonna try ter git rid av yer at sum point, bro, especially if yer persist in investigatin' their derdy dealings. That’s why i’m sayin' dat maybe yer shud seek de 'elp if de Council—"
"No! Fuck the Council! That’s just going to make things worse. What do you think Iolas is going to do if I put the Council onto him?"
"Kill yer?"
"Exactly, and then I’ll just be another victim conveniently swept under the rug."
"An' Iolas 'ill be free ter carry on," Monty added. "Unless we gie de council irrefutable evidence dat Iolas is up ter brutal shoite."
"Which we don’t have
."
"So i’ll keep diggin’."
"Cheers bro. I might have something in the pipeline, though, now that you mention it."
Monty’s eyes widened as I told him about the visit I paid to the century with Dalia and Davey. "Jayzus Christ. Yer dug up your own ma?"
I shook my head at him. "Don’t say it like that, for fuck’s sake. I did what I had to do, that’s all there is to it."
"I’ll say wan tin' for yer, bro, yer don’t do things by 'alves."
"Anyway, hopefully Davey will turn something up."
"An' if he does? Waat den?"
I rested the back of my head against the couch as I thought for a moment. "Then I do what has to be done again."
Monty shook his head as if the whole thing was becoming to heavy for him, especially with his apparent hangover. "Ye blatherin' aboyt killin' somebody…for rayle? Killin' Iolas or whoever it urns oyt killed yer ma? That’s a whole different level, bro, oi mean…" He trailed off as if he couldn’t fathom the idea of murder.
"Whatever happens, it’ll be on me," I told him. "You don’t have to worry."
"Feck aff, will yer?" He shook his head almost in anger. "Yer tink i’d let yer dayle wi' dis shoite alone? Oi won’t."
That right there is why I love Monty. I knew he’d always put himself on the line for me, no matter what. "Let’s just see what happens. Maybe it won’t come to that."
"Ter killin'? Oi 'ope not, for yer sake as much as mine."
As I stood up to go, I said, "Listen, there’s something else you can do for me."
"Name it, bro," Monty said, not moving from his position in his seat.
"Thirty years ago, a plane that left here to go to Switzerland crashed, probably a private jet. Is there any way you can find out the details surrounding the crash?"
Monty frowned. "What’s dis aboyt?"
"Iolas again. He had family on that plane, and I want to know what happened."
"Sure, bro, i’ll see waat oi can dig up. Dare shud be records somewhere."
I clasped Monty’s hand before I left. "Do me another favor, will you?"
"What bro?"
"Don’t sleep with any more crazy witches."
Monty laughed. "You’re askin' too much av me dare, bro, but I’ll try…"
21
The sun was beating down hard again as I walked down Parnell Street, having just left Monty’s and still chuckling to myself over the sticky situations he continually got himself into. Dick dialing the phone, I thought with a shake of my head. Classic.
As I was coming past the Rotunda Hospital, the oldest and continuously operating maternity hospital in the world (helping to churn out the youngest population of any European country), my thoughts inevitably turned to Iolas once again, and the question of his guilt. But before my mind got the chance to go around in circles as it always did, my thoughts were interrupted by a black Mercedes that pulled up alongside me. I ignored the car at first, continuing to walk until a voice said my name. Stopping, I saw that one of the darkened back windows of the car was down, and that a man was staring at me from inside. "Corvin Chance?"
I stared suspiciously at the man, who appeared to be alone in the back of the car. Dressed in a dark suit despite the hot weather, the stranger had short dark hair and appeared to be somewhere in his mid to late forties. He also spoke with an upper-class sounding English accent, overall coming across as some sort of businessman or politician. "Who’s asking?" I said.
"My name is Benedict Bonneville. I represent the Council. Can we talk?"
The Council, I thought. What the hell do they want?
"What about?"
He stared at me with striking blue eyes as if he knew what he was going to say would grab my attention, which it did. "Iolas Tasar."
I stared back at him a moment. "What about him?"
"Why don’t you get in so we can discuss it?"
After standing for another moment, I went to the car and got inside, figuring it couldn’t hurt to see what this man wanted. If nothing else, I’d be able to at least find out exactly where the Council stood as regards Iolas.
"How did you find me?" I asked as the car, driven by another man in a dark suit, pulled off.
Benedict Bonneville smiled. "Really? You’re asking a wizard that question?"
"Fair enough. Where are we going?"
"It’s a lovely day, so I thought we could take a stroll around St. Stephen’s Green, or we could stay in the car, it’s up to you."
"The park is fine."
He smiled. "Good, I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve been stuck in planes and cars all bloody day."
Benedict seemed like a fairly easy-going individual, but I could also tell he was sharp as a tac and probably a highly competent wizard as well. The Council wasn’t in the habit of promoting incompetence, so I assumed Benedict was one of their best and brightest, which made me wonder exactly what he was doing here. He seemed in no rush to explain himself, however.
"Lovely city you have here," he said as he looked out the darkened windows. "So much history, just like London."
"I know London well."
He turned his head to smile at me. "I know you do."
When he looked away again, I shook my head. Was he implying that I was being watched or something? The feeling made me uncomfortable, and I was glad when the car finally pulled up in Grafton Street and we got out, heading through the granite Fusilier’s Arch on our way into the park, which was said to be modeled on the Arch of Titus in Rome.
"So," I said, breathing slightly easier now that we were outside. "What’s all this about? You mentioned Iolas Tasar. What about him?"
"It’s peaceful in here, isn’t it?" he said as we walked by the park’s large lake, the surface like glass, disturbed only by the ducks and other water fowl that paddled gently across it. "I love city parks, they’re like an oasis, aren’t they, offering relief from the busy city streets. Did you frequent many parks while you were in London?"
"You tell me. You seem to know a lot about my movements."
Benedict smiled as he walked with his hands in his trouser pockets. "It’s my job to know what goes in my city, especially amongst the Touched."
"So why are you here in Dublin and not London?"
"Because the Council sent me here, and I go where they tell me to go."
"Is this about my mother?"
He gave me a sympathetic look, seeming very tall as he walked beside me. "I knew your mother well. Her death was a sad loss."
"Her murder, you mean."
"Yes, her murder."
"Not that the Council did much about it."
"I understand your frustration," he said as we approached the park’s open heath, which as always had groups of students dotted all over it as they lazed in the mid-day sun.
"I don’t think you do. The Council did nothing to find out who killed her, even though they probably know full well who was responsible."
"And who do you think was responsible?"
"You’ve already said his name."
"Iolas Tasar."
"Yes."
Benedict nodded. "I can’t say if you are right or not, not without a fuller investigation."
I shook my head in frustration as I felt my anger rising. "A fuller investigation? You’ve had three fucking months to investigate, and what have you done? Nothing!"
"To be fair," he said. "That’s not exactly true. A full investigation was indeed done into your mother’s murder."
"Really?" I stopped to glare at him. "Then why didn’t you trace the magic used to kill her?"
"Who said we didn’t?"
"What? You know…who killed her?" His contradictory answers were frustrating me.
"Let’s keep walking," he said, and strolled on ahead for a second before I caught up with him.
"Hey! Tell me what you know. I have a right—"
"No, you don’t."
"What?" I couldn’t believe his arrogance, and I just wanted to punch him out. "She was
my mother!" A few students on the heath looked over after I raised my voice, and I glared angrily at them until they looked away.
Benedict continued to walk calmly, as if he was enjoying his stroll through the park. "There’s more at stake here, and a lot more going than just…" He trailed off, seeming to realize he was being insensitive. "I’m not saying getting justice for your mother isn’t important, I’m just saying that justice will have to be delayed for a little while."
I stopped again and shook my head just as he turned around. "This is bullshit!"
"This is how things have to be done," he said as he walked over to me. "If I give you the information you seek now, you will just mess up a larger operation."
I shook my head in disgust. "Fuck your operation, I’ll find out the name of the killer on my own soon enough anyway."
For the first time, he appeared slightly worried. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I dug my mother’s body. The magic used to kill her is being examined as we speak."
"Oh." He stood in thought for a minute. "Then perhaps I should explain to you exactly why I’m here."
"Go ahead. Like I give a shit anyway."
"Let’s walk again. I find it calming."
For a moment, I considered just walking away from him altogether, but then I thought that I might as well see what he wanted first. Sighing, I began to walk beside him again as we passed the bandstand in the center of the heath. "Talk," I said. "What the hell do you want from me?"
"I’m here to sort out Iolas Tasar," he said.
"Sort out?"
He nodded. "Yes. The Council believes him to be a threat to the stability of this island. Iolas is getting too big for his boots, so to speak. He thinks he answers to no one."
I thought about Arthur Cartwright, and all the people Iolas had under his thumb through debt and intimidation. "He doesn’t."
"Well, he’s supposed to. Even the Elven Council can’t control him."
"What do you suspect him of?"
"Lot’s of things, but mainly colluding with vampires in a plot to take over this country."
I went silent for a moment. Things were starting to make sense now. At least now I knew why Iolas had partnered with Constantine. "Are you aware of the properties Iolas is buying up, along with his silent partner, Prince Constantine?"
