“The Royale can’t hide you. He knows you work there, and I suspect the tunnels beneath the theater wouldn’t prove much of a deterrent if he’s determined.”
“He didn’t come after us there before,” she said.
“From what you’ve told me, that was before he realized you had spied on him and informed on him to the CID.”
Aurelia pushed a shaky hand through her hair. “So we were safe only because he wasn’t looking.”
“And if we return there, it makes things too easy for him, Auri. There’s no exit down there.” Leo moved to her side and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“We’d be trapped,” she realized aloud.
“The question remains—where should we go? And how can I keep you safe?”
Eventually, an idea came to her, though she wasn’t certain if it was practicable. “Let’s speak with Inspectors Mikani and Ritsuko down at the CID.”
CHAPTER 25
MIKANI HEADED FOR HOME IN THE EARLY EVENING, FRUSTRATED AND SHORT-TEMPERED.
Two hours arguing and cajoling for nothing. Bastard’s unassailable right now even if his so-called House is only him and one creepy servant. Gunwood had finally ordered him home to cool off; Ritsuko stayed behind to make sense of the new leads once he promised to go straight home. No fighting, no looking for trouble.
Truth was, he hadn’t felt like drinking for a few days now. I owe them better than that; all of them. Cira, Electra—and Ritsuko. Toombs was down, but there was another killer out there somewhere. And a third potential victim.
He stopped when he spotted the carriage near the corner of his street. What in hells and Winter . . . ? He approached cautiously until he spotted the figure by his door.
“Saskia.” Dressed in gray and white, a flowing wrap and a shawl covering her head, she carried a basket in both hands, smiling as she spotted him.
“Janus. Well, it’s good to know you haven’t forgotten my name, at least.”
Damned be. “Dinner. I—”
“You were headed home to change so you could come beg for my forgiveness. I know. The kind soul that I am, however, I will spare you the groveling.”
Mikani snorted, finger combing his hair. “Bronze gods, Saskia, this is not—”
“What you had in mind. Yes, plans change. Now take the basket and open the door already, will you? Leaving a lady waiting outside for a half hour, your neighbors will talk. And these damned boots are killing me.”
He grunted in surprise and glanced down. “You’re wearing shoes.”
“They hurt. Hurry up.”
He took the basket and opened the door. After two years together, I should know better than to argue with her. After two years apart, though, I shouldn’t have to.
Ten minutes later, she had tossed her boots in a corner and joined him in the kitchen.
She chopped vegetables while he added the spices and tended the sauce.
Conversation between them meandered as it had always done. Saskia gloated over the boom in business created by the temporary Summer Clan blockades. Then, as usual, she asked about his work. He’d never shared as much as she wanted him to, but tonight he wondered if a fresh perspective might help.
Can’t hurt.
So as he stirred, he explained, “Toombs was under someone’s influence, I could tell that much. But our other suspect was impossible to read. I’ve never felt anything like that damned hum.” He added more pepper to the pot and watched her slice some more carrots. Odd, how easily we fall back into old routines.
“Not your first suspect’s?”
“No. He felt different. I couldn’t read him because he’s blocking everyone out. Toombs, though—his mind felt like the machines. Dead. Cold. As if you could fall in . . . Those onions need to be finely chopped.” He imagined Ritsuko would be amused at what a kitchen dictator he could be, given his careless nature everywhere else.
Saskia scoffed and blocked his attempt to take the knife away from her. “Watch your sauce, it’s about to boil over.” He swore and stepped away as she went on, “It takes some powerful magic to leave that kind of psychic residue, Janus. And honestly, it had the feel of Ferisher art, not sorcery.” She was frowning, blond hair plastered to her forehead from the heat of the stove.
“I’m not sure I follow. Magic is magic, no?”
She huffed and bounced an onion cube off his chest. “No. What magic remains to us today is a shadow of the old ways. We must work with rituals and patterns to call and shape the power.” She was smiling, with eyes half-closed. I remember that look. “It’s more like riding the waves than . . . than cooking a meal; you need to have a feel for it, or it will drown you.”
“And the Ferishers . . .” When he reached for the onions, she slapped at his hand and poured them carefully into the pot.
“Ferishers didn’t ride the waves, they made them. Even after centuries of mingling with ours, their blood runs strong.” She grinned up at him. “You should know that better than most.”
He snorted and flicked a gob of sauce that she barely evaded. “I’d thank you to not remind me of my ancestors’ promiscuity, if you please.”
“Oi! That’ll stain like a bloody—” She covered her mouth and glared at him.
“Ah. There’s the foul-mouthed captain I used to know.” She started looking for something to throw at him. “Peace! Peace.” He held up his hands in mock surrender and turned down the heat on the sauce. “Ferishers,” he prompted.
She huffed and started cutting meat with hard, precise chops of the knife. “You . . . you . . . infuriating . . .” He grinned at her, and she let out a resigned sigh. Good to know that still works. “Idiot. It’s the blood that lets you sense things and allows me to work my magic.” She glanced up at him, briefly. “I suspect if you would let me teach you—”
“No.” Not this again, not tonight. All the tension that had flowed out of him as they cooked threatened to return. “No, Saskia. I have a hard enough time with . . . with whatever it is I do. It lets me do some good, and that’s enough.”
She nodded, her eyes on the knife as she finished cutting. “One thing bothers me, though.”
Thank you.
“Is it me?”
“Two things bother me.” She stepped aside; he took over the grilling, and she tended to the sauce. “Seriously, though. If it is a Ferisher . . . even if it went insane and was killing people, why would it need those infernal devices?”
“A boy—one of your acquaintances?—said those things were some sort of siphon. But why would a creature like that need any more power? And from girls?”
She tasted the sauce carefully. “He’s working in patterns, Janus. The girls weren’t chosen randomly, I can tell you that much.” He swatted at her when she started eating straight from the pot. “I’m hungry!”
Mikani spooned sauce over the meat and vegetables. “There’s a third machine. And a third girl, somewhere out there.” I should be out now, looking for . . . something. Anything. He shook his head and served their plates. But first I need a hint as to what.
She sat. When he poured them glasses of water, she arched a pale brow and gave him a look. “No beer for you?”
He shrugged.
“I guess that partner of yours is a good influence. She’ll have you combing your hair any day now.”
He snorted and joined her at the table, then directed the conversation back to the case, away from Ritsuko. “Wish I could see the damned pattern.”
They ate a few mouthfuls in silence, before she said, “He can’t store power like that for long.” He gave her a questioning look. “Well, messing with someone’s mind long term and that spiritual void he leaves behind? That’s all Ferisher art, sure. But the patterns, the way he’s using machines? That reeks of dark magic. You can store power in charms, that’s not hard. But the more you store, the more unstable it gets.”
Mikani set his fork down and rubbed his temples. “So. There’s someone walking around with a big . . . charm .
. . thing. Full of magic.”
She scrunched up her nose and stole a mushroom from his plate. “It’s like one of those batteries the Academy was messing with some years ago.”
“Those things had a tendency to explode when you looked at them wrong.” Hells and Winter, this just keeps getting worse. You can still see the scorch marks on the buildings across the street from the Academy engineering annex.
Saskia sighed. She set down her fork and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “It will get worse. He has to complete his ritual soon since he can only hold on to the power for so long. And there must be a time component to his work; he’s not doing anything randomly. Energy, time, pattern. It all adds to his spell.”
“And if we figure out the pattern in time?”
“Then the city does not burn, the sky does not fall.” She resumed her dinner. “You and your partner save the girl, get the medals, and you take me away for the weekend to celebrate.” She smiled at him, lips stained with sauce.
The hells?
“I do?” He straightened in his chair, eyebrows arched.
Damned be, Saskia, you shouldn’t be able to catch me off guard. Not anymore.
She gestured with her fork. “Finish your dinner, Janus. May be our last, after all.”
• • •
HER HEAD ACHED. Ritsuko didn’t often succumb to such ailments, but it had been a long day. With a faint sigh, she gathered up her things and packed her attaché case. It was late enough that she didn’t expect to run into anyone, but she nearly collided with Cutler coming into the duty room. Shelton was never far behind, and the two spread out before her, blocking her path. The room was quiet; even Gunwood had gone. There was only Anatole mopping the hallway beyond, and she’d feel foolish calling him to help her deal with two unpleasant colleagues. This wasn’t the first time they had ambushed her, though they hadn’t bothered her in a while.
Seems Mikani put a stop to that. Back then, I didn’t even know he noticed.
“Good evening,” she said, moving to step past.
“Not so fast.” Shelton snagged her arm in a painful grip.
Ritsuko stared at the five thin fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise. “Don’t touch me.”
“Or what? You’ll have Mikani clean our clocks again? He’s not around, birdie.”
“Business as usual,” Cutler added.
Shelton nodded; he didn’t let go. “I hear he can be unreliable. It would do you good to . . . make new friends.”
She lashed out in a cross-body movement that broke his hold. If she’d exerted more pressure, maybe his arm as well. “You two? No thank you.”
Shelton said, “Do you realize how long Gunwood ranted at us? You stole the Wright woman’s statement from us, then we had to listen to the old man talk about political ramifications for an hour. I might not mind so much, if—”
“Stop right there. Whatever compensation you feel you’re due, I won’t be paying it. And if you lay one more finger on me, it won’t be Mikani who cleans your clock. Now. Let. Me. By.”
Ritsuko wasn’t sure if it was her threat, her expression, or her tone that compelled their cooperation, but they did step aside. Their gazes burned her back as she strode to the lift, shoulders straight. It had been like this for years—men insinuating she owed them certain favors for the privilege of working alongside them. Cretins.
Down in the lobby, just before she made her escape, she recognized two people stepping in from the street. Aurelia Wright looked lovely but shaken, and Mr. Leonidas possessed his usual dark, dramatic air. The cloak and mask actually drew more attention than simple scars would have, but she imagined he knew that. Resigning herself to an incredibly long night, she walked toward them.
“What brings you down?” she asked.
Certainly nothing good.
The story came out in quiet bursts. Miss Wright wasn’t hysterical, but in Ritsuko’s estimation, she had reason to be. There could be no doubt that Theron Nuall, who had been so icy and so collected, so determined to admit nothing earlier in the day, had gone straight to the woman’s house to terrorize her, possibly to silence her. It was fortunate he hadn’t abducted or killed her, right there in the Acheron Club.
“Come upstairs with me,” Ritsuko said. “I need to send a message to my superior, but I feel certain he’ll wish to set a protective watch on you.”
“I’m not sure that will be enough,” Miss Wright replied. “The club has excellent security, and he still managed to get inside.”
“We’ll take you to a location unknown to the suspect. It’s secrecy that will keep you safe while we hunt him down.”
“He needs shooting,” Leonidas muttered.
She leveled a quelling look on him. “Be that as it may, you will do me the service of leaving law enforcement in the proper hands.”
Ritsuko hoped that Shelton and Cutler would be gone when she returned to the duty room, but no such luck. They were both propped at their desks, pretending to do paperwork instead of handling some of the incident reports that had piled up during the blockades. Shelton pushed to his feet when he saw them; and his smile was actually worse than his surly look.
“Is there something we can help with, Inspector?” If Cutler’s false courtesy were any thicker, Ritsuko could use it to plug a leak in her ceiling.
“I won’t know until I hear from Commander Gunwood.” Despite their attempts, she wouldn’t be drawn.
Instead, she summarized Miss Wright’s situation in a note, reminded the old man of the evidence they’d collected, then asked for orders. In her mind, there was only one correct way to proceed, so if he didn’t respond accordingly, she would plague him until he did. Ritsuko summoned a courier from downstairs, marked the missive urgent, then beckoned to Leonidas and Miss Wright.
“Let’s wait for the reply in the lounge. I’ll fix some tea.”
“I’d rather have a strong drink if you have it,” Miss Wright said wryly.
“I don’t, but my partner might.” She went over to Mikani’s desk and rummaged through all the drawers, encountering reports that ought to have been filed six months ago, multiple pens, pencils, scraps of torn paper, but surprisingly, she didn’t find a single hidden flask or bottle.
“No luck?” Leonidas asked.
“Apparently he’s not as rakish as I suspected.”
“I have some whiskey,” Cutler volunteered.
It wasn’t like either of those two to be helpful without a motive, but Miss Wright looked pale and rather done in, so Ritsuko went over to the inspector’s desk. “I’d appreciate it. For the lady, you understand.”
His cold, flat gaze met hers. “I understand perfectly.”
Despite herself, she shivered as she took the bottle from him, careful not to touch his fingers. Shelton did most of the talking for the pair, but Ritsuko suspected Cutler was the truly dangerous one. He seemed never to forget a slight. She didn’t doubt he meant to make her pay for the ignominy he’d suffered over the years, most of which hadn’t been her fault.
In the lounge, she made a tea tray and fortified the cups with a splash of whiskey. When she added sugar and lemon, the drinks offered the bracing quality of a toddy. Miss Wright sipped hers appreciatively, some of the color returning to her cheeks. Mr. Leonidas sat beside her, an arm protectively positioned on the back of her chair.
A long friendship, there. I wonder if they have . . . odd moments, where they almost want something else. But not really, because it would change everything. Wouldn’t it?
“I’m glad you were here,” Miss Wright confessed with a shaky laugh. “I would’ve hated to try to convince those other two that I’m truly in danger.”
“There’s no question of it. I’m grateful you had the presence of mind to come to us.” Ritsuko addressed Leonidas. “And that you were there to get her here safely.”
Countless cups of tea later, though Ritsuko didn’t spike her own after the first, Miss Wright seemed much more relaxed. She sat close
to Leonidas, her cheeks losing some of that frightened pallor. The man touched her on the arm.
“Auri, I still think you should contact your father. He’s the Architect. If he can’t protect you—” Leonidas broke off, belatedly seeming to realize he’d spoken of private matters with Ritsuko still in the room.
Her breath caught. The Architect. House Olrik. With an abrupt click, the last piece fell into place. Nuall was hunting Miss Wright because she might be an intended victim; and she did fit the basic criteria she had just been talking about with Mikani: unseen, but from an important House, and exiled from her family. It was all she could do not to inform the woman at once that there was a reason she’d been terrorized. The only question was, what made Miss Wright different from the other victims? Ritsuko wondered why he’d courted her before killing her. There was no indication that had occurred with Miss Aevar or Miss Bihár. But Mrs. Aevar did say her daughter had a bit of a glow, just before she vanished . . .
Before she made up her mind what it all meant, the courier ran into the lounge with a reply from Commander Gunwood. She tipped him and broke the seal. The other two inched to the edge of their seats, and Ritsuko noticed how Leonidas covered Miss Wright’s hand with his own. It took her a moment to process the best – and worst-case implications of the instructions and the enclosed document.
“What does it say?” Leonidas demanded.
“We’re to make haste, as I expected.” She hesitated, hating this part of her orders, even as she exulted in the rest. “Inspectors Shelton and Cutler will be escorting you to a Council-owned flat, and they will remain to guard you at all times.”
“Oh.” Miss Wright’s disappointment and trepidation were tangible. “I’d hoped you and your partner, Mikani, would be sent with me.”
“I’m sorry. These are my orders.” She understood the woman’s concern, but Ritsuko knew Shelton and Cutler well enough to realize they wouldn’t shirk the protective detail, if only out of fear of reprisal. Cowards never wanted a light to shine on their actions, so they put their best feet forward when attention from above was likely.
Bronze Gods Page 27
