Suite C opened into a collection of antique bedroom pieces with assorted tables thrown into the mix. Suite B was even less remarkable. Lamps sat on the floor against the walls. Sofas and loveseats occupied the center of the room. A few desks huddled in a corner. On the whole it reminded me of a staging warehouse full of stock for the fancy model homes Mom had loved to visit when I was a kid.
The kitchen sat opposite of Suite B, so we cleared it next. Empty cupboards, empty fridge. The sink carried the faint smell of rot and soy sauce. I checked the cabinets beneath it. Garbage disposal. For the scent to linger, somebody was using the place. Two weeks tops and that smell would be gone.
Shaw ducked out to check the last bathroom, leaving me to reach Suite A first. “The door’s locked.”
“Huh.” He jiggled the knob upon his return. “The door is locked.”
I cupped a hand to my ear. “Is there an echo in here?”
All-key in hand, he aimed for the lock. Metal screeched against metal. Second try, same result. “That has never happened before.”
“It must be spelled.” I pursed my lips. “Do you have the supplies to break a hex?”
“Several.” He patted his messenger bag. “It all depends on who or what Richardson wanted kept out.”
“She hasn’t taken any anti-fae measures so far.” I smoothed my left palm over the door. Tingles swept up my wrist when I gripped the knob, but the frame itself felt magic-free. “Stand back for a minute.”
With him out of the way, I turned sideways and kicked the door about a foot beneath the knob.
“That’s not going to work.” Shaw rifled through his bag. “Nothing is that easy.”
Starting to think he might be right, I gave it a second kick. Frustrated, I went for a quick third.
He pulled out a plastic bag of herbs and a lighter. “I hate to say I told you so, but—”
Fourth kick was the charm. Wood splintered, and the cheap door swung inward.
“Me too.” I tossed a smile at him over my shoulder. “Luckily, my foot just said it for me.”
“By the grace of the seven mothers,” he murmured, tucking away his supplies.
My head whipped toward the room I had been too busy being smug to examine. Rookie mistake. The spelled door should have put me on guard against worse traps inside, but I had let Shaw distract me.
Rarity or not, I was starting to think the whole not-dating-coworkers rule was there for a reason.
Fumbling my cell out of my pocket, I tapped the flashlight app and cocked my head as the beam hit heavy plastic shrouding clunky shapes. Curiosity urged me into the room, guiding my hand. As I gripped the thick material, icy sensations rippled up my spine. Like to like, I sensed death here.
With a trembling hand, I ripped the sheeting from the nearest item then staggered backward with a scream lodged in my throat. Perfect glassy eyes stared at nothing. Silver hooves gleamed up at me.
“We were wrong.” Shaw braced his hands on my shoulders when my back hit his chest.
“She wasn’t belling.” I swallowed the hard knot cutting off my oxygen. “This is...”
“I know.” Rubbing circles on my back seemed to soothe him as much as it calmed me. “You don’t have to go back in there.”
Yes, I did. If I ran from this job, I was setting a precedent for cowardice the next time things got difficult.
“You handle inventory.” The whisper of my voice gained force. “I’ll catalog.”
Might as well put the phone to use. Shock had fused it to my hand. My fingers refused to let go.
Warm lips brushed my temple. Shaw pressed the side of his face against mine, and I knew then I could survive this. A hard exhale stuttered from my lungs against his neck. I breathed in him instead.
Reluctant as I was, Shaw was the first to break away, to reenter the room, and I followed.
My phone’s light beam helped me find a row of switches mounted to the wall by the door. I flipped several, and fluorescent light washed over us, illuminating the horrors of the room. I slumped against the wall, eyes drawn as if magnetized to the unicorn I had first uncovered. Its silver horn glinted. Dried blossoms twined with its sterling mane.
One by one, we uncovered them all.
Rare fae gazed numbly through painted eyes. They posed on wooden bases carpeted with grasses or peat, gruesome trophies on display. Brassy plaques identified each specimen, detailed the proud story of the beasts’ origins and the scope of their abilities, as if the engraved reverence of those words mattered to them now.
Faint traces of magic shimmered in the air. Faded essence from the great powers these creatures had possessed in life all but abandoned them in death. They were tragic statues, each one frozen in its prime.
As the initial shock ebbed, a memory surfaced. “Shaw?”
He emerged holding a spiral notebook with a pen in his hand. “Are you okay?”
No, I wasn’t. Judging by the dark shadows under his eyes, he wasn’t either.
“This case is bigger than we thought.” I dragged a hand down my face. “Should we be here? Should I be here? We aren’t exactly inspectors. What if we’re following the wrong leads?”
“We’re part of a team,” he assured me. “Mr. Richardson is being investigated by the team on the ground in Odessa. The ranch and this warehouse are the extent of his holdings. Between them and us, we have both Richardsons covered.”
Nodding, I let him go back to his list-making while I began snapping pictures of the inventory.
I had to think of the victims as stock. I needed the mental distance.
Distance was good. Distance meant I could do my job without breaking down. Distance kept me too busy to connect the dots between what the Richardsons had done to these creatures and what my left palm and I did to the chimera. A living, fire-breathing, natural wonder, and I had skinned it alive.
A heavy weight landed on my shoulder, and I jumped as Shaw came to stand beside me.
“Don’t.” His thumb smoothed over my collarbone.
I pushed out the word. “What?”
“Make this about you.” He led me forward into the shelter of his arms. “You’re one of the good guys. You don’t take innocent lives. You don’t hurt innocent fae or people. You’re a good marshal.”
I buried my face against his hard chest, taking solace in his familiar scent. Not the earthy citrus one, the tempting lure, but his essence, bare skin that reminded me of sunrises and wet grass, new beginnings.
His chin dug into my scalp when he rested it on top of my head. “I don’t know what’s changing with your magic. The magistrates kept you suppressed for so long while you were in school, it’s possible you have skills none of us suspect. We’ll learn them as we go, okay?” He drew back to pin me with his gaze. “Even if this thing between us goes south, I’m always here for you, got that? Promise me that much, Thierry.”
Numb as I was, his words couldn’t hurt me. “You sound certain we’re going to fail.”
“Spectacularly,” he said with a tender smile, “and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
His lips brushed over mine softly before he faded back into the dark corner of the room to work. I raised my phone’s camera, grateful for the separation the screen gave me. Each tidy row of this grim exhibit exposed a new horror. A black mother púca and her litter huddled in their sleek rabbit forms. An emerald-haired mermaid sunned on a hollow rock, waiting on a tide that would never rise to carry her back out to the sea.
We lost hours in that room, poring over what Shaw had dubbed humanity’s capacity for greed and cruelty. As fae, our hands were no less bloody. He and I were capable of committing worse acts.
Already my palm itched in anticipation of the judgments to come while the darker aspect of my nature pondered how human souls tasted. Would they be as filling as the chimera? Would the flavor be as rich? The effects last as long before my own hunger began gnawing my gut, begging to be fed?
Hesitating before a manticore, its human face twis
ted with rage on its lion’s body, its enormous batlike wings unfurled in flight, its scorpion stinger poised over its spine, I snapped one last picture.
We were all monsters here.
Chapter Eleven
Down the street from the warehouse, Shaw and I found a coffee shop to hole up in until we got a confirmation from the marshals on the ground in Odessa that the Richardsons were heading our way.
We picked at bear claw pastries while staring at the phone on a napkin in the center of the table.
It mocked me with its blank display and distinct lack of flashing lights, so I thumped its screen.
“Feel better?” He spun his empty coffee cup on the edge of its base.
I huffed. “The phone had it coming.”
“Clearly.”
Flicking an almond off my Danish, I switched tactics. “How many marshals are on that team?”
“Marshal Johnathan Worth is handling the investigation into Mr. Richardson.” His gaze touched on his phone. “He oversees evidence collection onsite. Maybe three others are bagging and tagging.”
“Who’s your contact?” I pressed.
“Worth,” he answered. “I’ve worked with him before. Quiet guy. He’s a dhampir.”
“Half human and half vampire,” I said slowly. “How does that work? Vamps are dead, right?”
“If you’re thinking I asked him which of his parents was a necrophiliac, you’re wrong.”
Heat stung my cheeks. “Sorry, nothing should surprise me these days.”
“You’re young yet.” He chuckled. “Wait until you’ve been a marshal for a few years.”
Ignoring the age comment, I shelved my vampy curiosity for later. “Can you call anyone else?”
He shook his head. “I left a message for Mable when you went to the ladies’ room.”
“What?” Snow in July was almost as likely as Mable missing a phone call. “She didn’t pick up?”
His cup spun a little faster. “It rang three times then rolled over to voicemail.”
“I don’t like this.” I sank back in my chair. “What are we supposed to do?”
“Sit. Wait.” He mirrored my position. “This is also part of the job.”
“The boring parts were glossed over, much like Paperwork Mountain.” I narrowed my eyes. “Is it too late to turn in one of those instructor-review forms? There were serious gaps in my education.”
“This coming from the only person in her academy class who graduated,” he said.
I shrugged. “If I hadn’t wrecked the tower, more cadets might have reached the flag.”
“No.” His grin turned smug. “I had collected all the flags but yours.”
A nervous pang tightened my chest. “Tell me that wasn’t on purpose.”
“You saw me,” he said, voice rough. “It was all I could do not to...” He crushed the foam cup in his hand. “You earned your badge. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. The magistrates sent Watchers in the event the results were contested. You were the only one who fought, did Mai tell you that? The other cadets handed me their kerchiefs.” He snorted. “She threw hers in my face and ran.”
I barked out laughter. “Mai did that?”
Massaging the base of his neck, he nodded. “Not everyone is as brave when faced with the hunger.”
Not his hunger, but the hunger. I wasn’t the only one who craved distance from myself.
“It’s still you.” I let him see I believed what I was saying. “Underneath it all, it’s still you.”
“You think so?” His gaze drifted toward the ceiling. “Sometimes I’m not so sure.”
“Don’t make me beat you with a hypocrisy stick.” I leaned over the table and shoved him. “You don’t get to give me fortune-cookie advice if I can’t return the favor. Get your head out of your ass, bucko.”
“Bucko?” A softening of his features told me he was amused. “Confidence is sexy on you.”
“Yeah, well.” I ducked my head to hide my tingling cheeks. “Fake it ’til you make it.”
A sudden, urgent buzzing killed our conversation. Both of our gazes shot to his phone.
It was in his hand, at his mouth before I could intercept. “Shaw.”
Eager for something to do, I scooped our trash onto a tray. I dumped it before grabbing my cup. May in Texas was hot. Not bake your brain in your skull temperatures like we saw in July and August, but I figured another round of drinks for the road wouldn’t hurt. Though I might switch us to decaf.
Six cups of joe had Shaw’s leg bouncing under the table. My finger tapping wasn’t much better.
At the counter, I ordered two bottles of water. I hated the plain stuff, so back at the table I doctored mine up with a packet of the kiwi-strawberry flavored powder I carried with me. Shaw declined with a shake of his head.
“What do you mean?” He massaged his temples. “People don’t just disappear.”
“The Richardsons?” That would explain the lack of update.
He made a hush gesture with his hands, which tempted me to snag his phone and get straight to the answers. Instead, I turned up my bottle and chugged water to flush the caffeine out of my jittery system.
As it became apparent I wasn’t getting details out of him until the call ended, I blocked out what I could of his conversation. Counting red sprinkles on the inflatable donut behind the register helped distract me.
“Something’s wrong.”
A second passed before I registered Shaw had spoken to me.
“Mable said no one at the office has heard from the marshals in Odessa in the last twelve hours. She’s organizing a group to drive up there now.” He tapped his phone on the table. “No one has seen the Richardsons since they were released from custody. The marshal who tailed them is missing.”
I tensed to stand. “What’s our next move?”
“Five agents don’t fall off the grid.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “Not without help.”
“Do you think the Richardsons took them out?” I frowned. “Are they capable of that?”
His voice lowered to a cutting whisper. “How can you ask that after what we saw?”
“The marshals would have looked human,” I said just as softly. “They would have been wearing glamour. It’s one thing to murder fae you can convince yourself are animals, or abominations. It’s another to pull the trigger while you’re staring down fae who look human, on two legs, at eye level.”
He ground his teeth. Good. Our almost-relationship wouldn’t survive another humans are food diatribe. Humans were not food. Fine, not just food. They were, well, they were...people.
An exhale whistled through his teeth. “We have an hour until we get an update.”
“If the Richardsons were coming to Dallas, they’d be here by now.” I frowned. “That means they should have tripped a perimeter spell. So either they’re not coming or they’re crashing somewhere under the radar.”
“They’ve got money,” he reminded me. “We’re assuming they didn’t hop a plane overseas.”
“Fae law has a longer reach than mortal law,” I countered. “Their lock spell was weak, but it was proof they’re more magically capable than we anticipated. Then there are the missing marshals to consider.”
“The spell failed.” His leg kept bouncing. “It should have sealed the door to the frame.”
“What if it wasn’t meant to keep us out,” I wondered aloud, “but to alert them if we got in?”
“They had to know we would search the warehouse. They didn’t make any effort to hide it.”
“What if that was the point?” I chewed on my thumbnail. “What if they counted on us following the obvious breadcrumbs while they were biding their time, waiting to be released from custody? What if what they’re hiding isn’t in the city?” I dug out my phone and dialed Mable. “I need the last-known whereabouts of the subjects and confirmation whether they returned to the ranch after their release if you’ve got it.”
Shaw stared at me, waiting until
I hung up before making a rolling gesture with his hand.
“She’s calling me back.” Stomach tight, I pushed out of my chair. “I could use some air.”
He waited until we got outside and the sidewalk emptied, then he closed the gap so our elbows brushed with each step. “Those fae had to come from somewhere. The Richardsons couldn’t procure them solo.”
The same thought had occurred to me. “They were fencing for a poacher.”
“Had to be.” He let me pull a step ahead. “How is this poacher getting rare fae out of Faerie into Texas? There’s only one tether between realms in the state, and it’s anchored on conclave grounds.”
Good question. No poacher had balls big enough to parade his conquests across conclave property. They must be using a tether outside the state that anchored to a more remote location. It might even be off-map.
“The chimera was alive.” My steps slowed as it truly hit me. “That means they’re smuggling live fae.”
Shaw stopped beside me, an odd look on his face. “Predators have to eat.” He pressed redial and brought his phone to his ear. “Hey, I need you to dig up sales records for the cattle. Find out if the ranch was self-supporting.”
The familiar sound of Mable’s voice drifted to my ears as she signed off with a huff.
I followed his reasoning. “You’re thinking the ranch was a front.”
“Predators like chimeras and manticores require massive amounts of fresh meat to keep them alive for any period of time. It makes sense that if the Richardsons were bringing in fae from out of state, they would do it in bulk. It takes time to process a body. More time if the fae are kept alive for other reasons.”
Black-market vendors would sell their own mothers for fresh organs, horns, hooves, bones from rare stock. Sold to the right magic practitioner or initiated fanatic, those parts were worth their weight in gold. Even as small as Wink was, its back-alley streets housed a licensed Unseelie bazaar on the fae side of town.
“The question is where.” We reached the parking deck adjacent to the apartment tower. “The ranch was destroyed.”
Dog with a Bone Page 6
