by Jocelyn Fox
“Bruising,” said Duke slowly, his eyes glinting in the shadows.
“Like a hickey,” said Ross. “Like someone sucked on his neck while he was bleeding out.” Her skin crawled.
“Let me guess, you called your buddy in the NOPD,” said Duke.
“They’re ruling it a homicide,” said Ross. “And he said that they’re trying to keep it out of the press because of the weird cannibalistic elements.” She turned and resumed pacing.
“I see where you’re going with it.” Duke swirled his beer in the bottle. “But I’m still gonna ask. Why couldn’t it just have been some weirdo with a Hannibal Lecter obsession? Or one of those crazies who think they’re vampires?”
“For all we know, there could be actual vampires,” muttered Ross.
“Did I just hear you admit that you’re accepting the supernatural now?” Duke said, raising his eyebrows and pushing away from the railing.
“Maybe,” she growled. “Hard not to when it’s being shoved in my face so blatantly.”
He reached out and caught her arm as she passed him again. “Hey, slow down a bit. C’mere.”
She stiffened but then let him fold her into his arms.
“It’s too hot to be hugging,” she mumbled into his chest, but she didn’t pull away.
“Never too hot to hug you,” he replied, kissing the top of her head. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry you had a rough call. It sounds tough. But I think you’re putting the pieces together to see something that isn’t there.”
Ross drew back and took a long swallow of her beer. Duke finished his and set the amber bottle on the floorboards by his feet. “It just gives me a bad feeling.”
“And it’s good you’re listenin’ to your gut, don’t get me wrong,” said Duke with a nod. “But let’s say that it was Corsica who killed this guy. She’s been living in our world for hundreds of years. I bet she knows how to get rid of a body.”
Ross crossed her arms over her chest. “I think it was deliberate.”
“What, leavin’ the body in the alleyway?”
“Leaving the body in my station’s district,” Ross replied grimly. She met Duke’s eyes. Even in the dusk, she could see the doubt in his face. “I think she did it to send a message to me.”
“What, she left a note or somethin’?” Duke frowned.
“No. I mean, I don’t know. I didn’t go through the guy’s pockets. That would be tampering with evidence.”
“Naturally,” he agreed, raising one eyebrow.
“Don’t be so flippant,” she snapped. “I’m not saying it was a specific message, Noah. I’m saying that I think Corsica is taunting me.”
“How would she know that you’d be subbing on ambulance today?” asked Duke. “How would she know that someone wouldn’t just call the police right away?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “You can poke holes in my theory all you want. That’s fine. But ever since they went off the radar I’ve been waiting to hear about something like this, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it turned up in my station’s district.” She shook her head. “Corsica should know how to dispose of a body, if she’s been doing this for as long as they say they have been. He was killed somewhere else and then moved. If that doesn’t point to some intentional thought about who was gonna find him, I don’t know what does.”
Duke shrugged. “Why not just drop him on the station doorstep then?”
“This isn’t a joke,” Ross said, her voice rising.
“I’m not joking,” he said seriously. “Just gaming it out with you. If Corsica wanted to send a message to you specifically, why not just drop the body at the station?”
Ross pressed her lips together, thinking. “We have closed-circuit security monitoring at the station.”
“The Sidhe tend to short that stuff out, or she could have used a rune or whatever to turn it off.”
“Maybe she thought that was too obvious,” Ross said. Then she frowned. “Or maybe…maybe they’re hiding in the city. Close to where the body was found. There are some warehouses in the area, and it was never built back to where it was after the hurricane.”
“She grabs the homeless guy, kills him, and then puts him back in the alleyway,” said Duke, rubbing the bristles on his chin.
“It’s a possibility,” Ross said slowly.
“Looks like there’s two questions here. First is if leaving the body for you to find, or in your station’s district, was deliberate or coincidence. If it was done on purpose, why? Why would Corsica want you to find a body?”
“I don’t know,” Ross said. She stared into the gathering darkness and finished her beer, setting the bottle beside Duke’s.
“What’s your first instinct?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“What?”
“Your first instinct,” he repeated. “You found the body, you think it’s Corsica who killed him. What does it make you wanna do?”
“It makes me want to find her,” said Ross, blowing out her breath. “Who knows if she’s killed before? Who knows when she’ll kill again?”
“What if she’s counting on you to do just that?”
“Oh, this is a trap again?”
“She’s done it once.”
“And we handled it,” Ross said, though the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she remembered the stench of the huge wolf-like creatures that had attacked them. Once she’d gotten her new truck, she’d driven out to where the attack had taken place. There hadn’t been any wolf corpses or even bones, though she did find a few handfuls of gritty black dust, like ash from an incredibly hot fire.
“You know as well as I do that was a lotta luck,” said Duke. “If she’s settin’ a trap, why?”
Ross growled in frustration. “I don’t know. Are you telling me that we should just let her keep sucking people dry?”
“We don’t even know for sure that it was her,” Duke said levelly.
She took in a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. “When did Vivian say she’d be back?”
“She didn’t,” said Duke.
“Where did she go with Tyr again?”
“Didn’t say.”
“So you just let her go off with Tyr by herself?” Ross demanded.
“She’s a grown woman, Ross, much as you hate to remember that sometimes,” Duke drawled. His eyes had narrowed to lazy slits, the way they did when he was annoyed but he retreated into his laconic Southern good ol’ boy routine rather than show outward anger.
As if on cue, the headlights of Vivian’s Jeep turned into the driveway from the road, Tyr’s white hair a beacon in the passenger seat. Ross stood at the top of the porch steps with arms crossed, constructing her approach in her head as she waited for the Jeep to slow to a stop at the top of the driveway. In the short time she’d owned the Jeep, Vivian hadn’t even bothered to put on the doors or the soft shell, leaving it completely open. Ross had to admit that Niall seemed more comfortable riding in the open-air vehicle. She didn’t think Tyr felt pain from iron anymore, if his scars and his casual usage of the screen door’s wrought iron handle were any indication.
Vivian spoke to Tyr in a low voice as she grabbed a backpack and a few large shopping bags from the back of the Jeep. For his part, Tyr had gradually stopped wearing the mixture of archaic and modern clothing that he and Corsica had worn when they appeared at the house. Now he favored simple clothes, mostly dark colors that made his silver hair even more shocking, and he even went without gloves covering his hands sometimes. Tonight, he wore an athletic-cut black t-shirt and dark pants. The only holdovers from his previous attire were his well-worn black boots, but they didn’t look out of place.
“Hey Ross,” said Vivian brightly as she tromped up the steps.
Ross didn’t move. She jerked her chin at Tyr. “I need to talk to him.”
Vivian glanced over her shoulder and then back at Ross with a shrug. “He’s not deaf. He can hear you.”
“Well, I n
eed him to answer me,” clarified Ross, still blocking the steps, “and I know you talk to him. In your head.”
Vivian reversed and walked back down the steps. “Ross, you’re being weird, and that’s not a word I use lightly, because note that I’m not denying that I talk to Tyr telepathically.” She turned around and set down her bags. “But obviously I’m not going to be able to go inside and eat dinner until after this is resolved, so let’s do it.” She put her hands on her hips.
Ross thought she saw Tyr suppressing a smile. Since when had the Exiled had a sense of humor?
“Fine,” she said. “I went on a call today in the warehouse district, and there was a dead homeless guy.”
“Ugh.” Vivian made a face. “That sounds…gross.”
“Decomposition happens pretty fast during a Louisiana summer, so yeah, it was gross,” said Ross. “But not as gross as the fact that this guy didn’t just die in an alleyway alone. He was murdered.”
Tyr stiffened. The movement was slight, but she caught it. With a renewed sense of purpose, she pressed on with the story.
“And it was a really strange way to murder someone. Carotid artery sliced open and livid bruising around the wound, possibly indicating that there was suction. Like lips. Over this guy’s artery as he bled out.” Ross crossed her arms and watched Tyr with hard eyes. Vivian turned toward him, as someone did when their companion started speaking.
“Tyr says that you think Corsica did it,” Vivian relayed.
“I do,” said Ross.
“And you think that it was deliberate,” the redhead continued.
“Deliberate in what way?” Goose bumps stippled Ross’s skin at the depth of Tyr’s perception. Had he somehow heard their earlier conversation? Or was he able to read thoughts?
“He says that it is possible that is was a sign to you,” Vivian said. “Or it could be the bait for another trap.”
“That ain’t creepy at all,” muttered Duke from behind Ross.
She felt strangely grateful that she wasn’t the only one feeling like Tyr put the pieces together too quickly. “Do you think Corsica is setting a trap for us?”
Vivian cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows. Tyr met her eyes and shrugged slightly. “He says yes.”
“Really? That’s what he said? I think he said a lot more’n that,” said Duke.
“I summarized,” said Vivian primly.
“Why would she want to set a trap for us now? She knows where the house is.”
Vivian frowned. “She might be merely playing a game out of boredom, or she could be trying to draw us to a specific location. New Orleans has a few ley lines and intersections, so it would be easier to make a Gate in the city.” She blinked. “Oh. That was me, not Tyr. Sorry.”
“Wait, what?” Ross shook her head. She felt the beginning of a headache behind her eyes. “Ley lines?”
“You know, like lines of power. Um, like fault lines in geography,” said Vivian, her voice gaining enthusiasm as she thought of the right comparison. “Intersections of ley lines thin the veil between the worlds, because you have both lines of power and…well, it’s a lot to explain. But anyway. New Orleans has a lot of them. Or more than normal. Which isn’t surprising, given the city’s history…”
“Vivian,” Ross interrupted firmly. “What is Tyr saying?”
“Oh.” Vivian turned back to Tyr. Her eyes widened and she smiled. “He says I’m right.”
Ross glanced suspiciously between Vivian and Tyr. It was too dark to tell if her friend was blushing. “Okay, let me get this straight. Corsica has the bone sorcerer and Molly. And they’re hiding out in some warehouse in New Orleans to be closer to these ley lines. I still don’t get it. Why?”
“Because Molly is ready to challenge Mab,” said a new voice.
Ross turned sharply. Ramel stood in the doorway, looking out at them from behind the screen door. Despite his pallor, he seemed steady on his feet.
“Ramel!” exclaimed Vivian. “You’re out of bed! Come outside – Ross, lemme past – come outside and stretch your legs!”
Ross let Vivian slide past her to open the screen door.
“The weather here is…odd,” said Ramel as he stepped outside, his movements careful and deliberate in the way of those still regaining their strength. Niall followed a step behind him. Vivian let the screen door go but then grabbed for it and barely managed to save it from being wrecked by a Malinois traveling at full speed.
“Hair missile…launched!” Vivian yelled gleefully as Mayhem streaked out into the yard, running a lap of the property at manic speed. Ramel chuckled as he watched the dog tearing around the yard.
“How are you feeling?” Ross asked, evaluating the Unseelie man’s pallor and comparing it in her head to the previous times that she’d seen him.
“Still a bit like I was trampled by a faehal,” admitted Ramel. He took a deep breath. “But I’m not dead, and that’s a start.”
“True,” she agreed. The humid air caused Ramel’s coppery hair to curl, and it had grown a bit long during his convalescence. Overall it made him look younger, like a university student maybe, though his eyes carried more weight than any student Ross had ever met.
“Anyone want another beer?” Duke asked the porch at large.
“I’ll take one,” called Vivian from where she was collecting her shopping bags and backpack on the front lawn.
Duke saluted her with the two empty bottles. “You got it, kid.” He disappeared inside the house.
Ross turned her attention back to Ramel. He’d moved to the porch railing, one hand resting gently on it as he looked out across the yard. She followed his gaze and her eyes came to rest on Tyr. She remembered Vivian saying something about the two of them having history.
“Everything all right?” she asked quietly.
Niall placed a hand on Ramel’s shoulder for a heartbeat and then moved down the stairs to speak to Vivian.
“Tyr had a sister,” said Ramel in a voice so soft that Ross had to lean closer to make out his words. “A twin. Her name was Rye.”
The past tense didn’t escape her. Despite her misgivings about the Fae, a prickle of interest made her prompt him gently. “What happened?”
Ramel stared at Tyr for another long moment until the Exiled turned and looked at him. They both went very still. Then Ramel clenched his jaw and said, “She’s dead, and I’m not.”
Ross knew there was more of a story there, but the hardness in Ramel’s eyes told her to drop it for now. “No chance of a fistfight or anything, right?”
Ramel gave a humorless chuckle. “He would have to get in line.”
“What do you mean by that?”
He turned to her, his face shadowed by the dusk. “I mean that the mad queen forced me to do things. Terrible things. And there are many who would rightfully claim retribution.”
“Ross, could you grab the door?” Vivian asked as she walked up the steps with her hands full of shopping bags.
Ross opened the door for her friend but kept an eye on Ramel. Tyr hadn’t followed Vivian. He stood in the yard with Niall, his silhouette half a head shorter and more slender than the tall Seelie. They both looked lethal, even in their relaxed poses. Ross wondered briefly what had prompted the sudden bond between the two men. Then she closed the screen door, careful not to let it bang, and turned back to Ramel, stepping over to stand at the railing beside him. The sunset painted the western horizon in shades of pink and purple, the vivid colors throwing the dark branches of the trees into sharp relief, every leaf and twig limned with rich light. Shadows spread their cloak over the long grasses and the nightly chorus of frogs at the creek behind the house sounded its first tentative notes.
“How do you feel about Molly joining the bone sorcerer?” she asked.
He didn’t show any reaction to her bold query, instead observing, “You did not sit at my bedside when I was healing.”
“No.” Ross accepted his statement easily. “I see enough suffering each day
at work. I would have stepped in if I were needed, but I don’t really know you and the others had it covered.”
He nodded. The dying light of the sun picked out the copper sparks in his hair. “I appreciate your honesty.”
Ross shrugged. “I’m not very good at being diplomatic sometimes.” She rested her elbows on the railing. “So, you’re just going to dodge the question?”
The barest hint of a smile touched his lips. “I understand what Vivian meant when she said you were relentless.”
Ross didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended that Vivian had spoken about her to the Unseelie man, so she didn’t respond directly. Maybe he’d actually answer the question if she just kept him on the hook.
Finally he said, “Regardless of how I feel about it, I understand why Molly made the decision to use the bone sorcerer as her instrument of revenge.”
“And you think that Corsica dropped that corpse in the alleyway outside their hideout because Molly is ready to take on Mab?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
May romped through the long grass and then, to Ross’s surprise, cavorted over to Tyr with a stick in her mouth. Adding to her disbelief, the white-haired Fae adeptly took the stick from the dog and sent it sailing through the air. Mayhem leapt after it, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth.
“You see,” said Ramel, “even the most damaged and outcast among us is still valuable. Even those who committed the most heinous crimes still have their uses.”
The dark undercurrent in Ramel’s words made her skin prickle with foreboding. “You approve of what she’s doing.” She realized after she’d said the words that she didn’t know if she was referring to Molly, Corsica, or both of them.
The lines of Ramel’s jaw hardened. “Mab is a monster. She is beyond saving.”
