by Wendy Owens
He delivers a slow blink before continuing, “Very well. It’s unlikely it was a Lycan because all kills are sanctioned.”
“Yeah, you said that already,” I tap my foot impatiently on the floor, my boot causing a little clacking noise as it hits.
“All deaths from planned hunts are verified and confirmed as fatalities. We’re not careless in the Grimlore House.” He stands and crosses the room swiftly. “I don’t know where this mongrel came from if that’s even what it is, but it wasn’t a creation from any of the Grimlore Lycans. I suggest you look at the Nether Fae.”
He opens his hologram screen, taps his fingers in the air on the invisible keyboard and quickly pulls up a list of names. “Yes, here. I see just with a quick glance that there are 17 registered Nether Fae who can shift. I suggest you start there.”
Ahh, Nether Fae. Whenever something can’t be explained, they’re who the Fae tend to blame. Outcasts, unable to toe the line of Fae society, and forbidden to use their Fae abilities under the threat of penalty of death.
“I—” I start.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” he interrupts me as he opens the door, turning back to look at us. “I have another appointment.”
Piper stands immediately and exits the room, again with her head lowered. I follow her, much slower, at a leisurely pace. I pause in front of him, looking him in the eye; royalty or not, he will know I mean business. “I’ll be back if I have any more questions.”
“Of course,” he answers, his voice once again smooth.
I take another couple steps, and then hear the door close behind me. Piper is waiting for me at the exit. Our visit doesn’t seem to have gotten us any closer to finding this butcher on the loose.
I pay no attention to anyone but Piper as we make a swift exit out the front doors. “He’s hiding something,” I mutter beneath my breath.
“What? What makes you say that?” Piper inquires, looking around cautiously as we move down the hillside and toward the tree line where we originally transported in.
“Oh please, he's as guilty as a fat kid with a candy wrapper,” I huff. “The way he immediately started defending Lycans. Lycan—mongrels,” I wave my hands in the air for emphasis, “splitting hairs if you ask me. And please, like a Nether Fae could do this and not already be caught. They can't take a pee without being sighted for some sort of violation. Then did you see the way he couldn't wait to get us out of there?”
“He said he had another appointment,” Piper reminds me.
I freeze and look back at Piper. “He did, didn't he? Didn't he seem a little too anxious for us to leave?”
“What are you getting at?”
“What if he didn’t want us to see whoever he had a meeting with?”
“Tynder, look!” Piper exclaims, grabbing my arms and pulling me low to the ground. Lord Ardack is exiting through the front doors we just left through minutes ago. He pauses, looks around cautiously before taking off in the opposite direction.
“Where are you going?” I whisper to Lord Ardack’s back, moving in the same direction, staying close to the ground.
“What are you doing?” Piper whispers frantically.
“He looks like a man who doesn't want to be followed.”
“So why are we following him?” Piper asks, wide-eyed and clearly two small steps from meltdown mode.
I bow my head, shaking it in frustration, and with a sigh, I explain, “Because only men with secrets don't want to be followed.”
As Ardack reaches a point in the path where I can no longer see him, I take off in a sprint. Piper follows close behind me. We round the corner, and I freeze behind an overgrown blooming bush. I can’t help but jerk my head around wildly in every direction.
“We lost him!” I exclaim in disbelief.
“He was just here,” Piper says sounding mystified, moving around to the other side of the bush. She crosses the path to look around an oversized oak tree. Still nothing. “He couldn't just disappear.”
“Unless he didn't want to be found,” I proclaim, holding a finger in the air.
Piper giggles and I suddenly feel very self-conscious.
“What?”
She shakes her head and seems to have relaxed. “Let’s go home, we’ve got some thinking to do.”
I shrug. “Fine, but I still say there’s something not right with that guy.”
Three
It’s a date
My hand glides along the weathered letters of the sign on the door of Joe’s office and my new home. I still remember when Desmond placed them carefully on the glass. I felt proud for some reason.
Josiah Crown
Private Investigator
I’m not sure when that pride I felt for my grandfather as a little girl shifted to resentment. I blamed him for so much, even though he had no fault in what pained me. It wasn’t fair I had to grow up without a mother, and even though the death of his daughter gripped him just as swiftly, I couldn’t see that. Not then— not with the angry eyes I looked at him with.
Now, though, now I would give anything to embrace him. To ask him why he felt like he couldn’t trust me with this other world. Joe was as close as I got to having a parent. He was the one who went to my middle-grade recitals. He was the one who cheered for me when I graduated. While he didn't know how to handle my rebellious phase, he never quit trying. In the past month, the feeling that the man I thought I knew was a stranger is overwhelming me. It feels like our time together was somehow not real. If he had truly seen me as an important part of his life, I can't stop thinking that he would have shared his fae heritage, consequently mine, with me.
“Are you okay?” Piper interrupts my thoughts. I push my grief back down into the pit of my stomach and clear my throat.
“Do you think it’s weird that Lord Ardack was so eager to point at the Nether Fae?” I ask, knowing full well it’s not weird, it’s how things are. That’s something else I’ve learned over the past month. The fate of becoming a Nether Fae is a constant threat the Fae live under. If a Fae is unable to integrate into human society or doesn’t show the reverence or respect that is expected for Queen Boru, they either face execution or worse; they are exiled and labeled Nether Fae.
A Nether isn’t allowed to use any of their natural born Fae abilities; a violation of this law is a crime against the crown and therefore punishable by death. The danger in this policy is that many Fae can't prevent themselves from using some of their abilities. They must hide away for fear they will be charged. Many struggle with finding a place in society and seek solace in the Netherworld. One can find a place where they belong in the Netherworld easily, but they also must live with the knowledge that when a crime happens, fingers are pointed in their direction first. The last two Nethers who were accused during one of my investigations had been cleared of all charges, thanks to Piper’s thorough research skills and my keen eye and essential ability to spot a load of bull a mile away.
“I think it's a lot easier to blame the Nethers than to look in your own backyard,” Piper suggests.
“Are there Netherworld mongrels?” I ask, pausing and looking at her with a curious expression.
“I suppose there could be,” Piper shrugs. “If a mongrel passes Lord Ardack’s path I think he would probably have it … taken care of.”
“You mean murdered,” I correct her.
“I doubt Lord Ardack would consider it murder since he doesn’t view the death of a mongrel as a lost life. So, should we head to the Netherworld?” Piper inquires as she looks at me, the words passing so easily from her lips it makes me shudder.
I shake my head. “I’m not ready to go on another unwarranted witch hunt.” Instead, I sweep past her, lunging forward to grasp the doorknob, sliding my key in at the same time.
“What are you talking about?” she asks, clearly not understanding my meaning. I don’t answer her immediately. Instead, I unlock and open the door, walk inside, and make myself comfortable—and then I answer her. I have a p
lan in mind, and my plan will most certainly have her flipping out. I need to sit for that.
Propping my feet up on the coffee table, I can feel her eyes on me, waiting for me to answer. My plan includes asking her to call the person who ratted her out as a witch—the one she trusted and who then betrayed her—causing her to be ripped from her family and life, then sent away to the Magic Academy.
“I’m tired of assuming the Nethers are behind everything.” Piper is well aware of how I feel about the treatment of Nethers. I mean, hell, they’re not even permitted to work, forced to live solely on the kindness of the Fae Royalty and what each House donates to them. Damn it! Don’t chicken out; just tell her what needs to happen.
“Why do you always insist on looking at them all as victims? There’s a reason they’re considered Nether Fae and always being blamed, Tynder.”
“Because they’re different? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty damn different,” I say, lifting my brows.
She shakes her head at me. “No, because they’re lawbreakers.”
“And whose laws are they breaking? The laws of our queen? The ones that are designed to make you fall in line or be punished by exile,” I scoff.
“Josiah wrote a lot of those laws,” she reminds me. Her speaking of my grandfather only serves to piss me off.
“I need you to call someone,” I interject making it clear I have no more time or patience for this conversation.
“Okay, who?” Always eager to help, aren’t you? That’s about to change.
“Peter…” I watch for her reaction to the name.
“Peter who?” she asks cautiously.
“Your Peter.”
“Wait, what?”
“I need to talk to someone who isn’t caught up in the Grimlore House and all its politics. Is he?”
“Well … no, b-but—” she stammers. “He’s a Lycan, but that doesn’t make him part of what’s happening.”
“But nothing, I just want to talk to him.”
She shakes her head no vigorously. “He won’t know anything. It’s a waste of time.”
“Great, then he’s got nothing to worry about,” I add.
“His family doesn’t even have transportation rights. The only time they even see anyone from the Grimlore house is for kingdom-wide events or scheduled hunts,” she continues to protest.
“Fabulous—even better.” I grin. Piper knows every witch that’s been posted to a Magistrate. Nash is aware what every other Bimtok is up to. Peter’s a Lycan. Even if he’s not involved with these murders, chances are he would know something that will at least set us on the right path. People love to gossip. I have to assume Fae are the same way. “Then it should hardly take any time at all.”
I lean my head back and close my eyes, no longer giving her a chance to argue with me. I can tell she’s lingering. I stay motionless, determined to have the final say in the matter. At last, I hear the shuffling of her shoes as she turns and crosses the small room.
My phone begins to buzz, and I hear her stop. I know she’s just waiting for me to open my eyes so she can continue her protest. I don’t give her the satisfaction. Blindly, I lift the device up to my ear.
“Tynder Crown here,” I chime, thoroughly satisfied that I’ve outsmarted Piper once again.
“And here I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,” I instantly recognize the voice on the other end of the line, and truth be told, I had been avoiding him. Walter Trunkwater.
“What on earth would make you think that?” I ask, trying my best not to let my voice betray me.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he begins with his smooth voice. “Maybe because we were supposed to have a date a few weeks ago, but I haven’t been able to reach you since that day in court. You know, the one where I saved your ass?”
“Technically, you saved a fairy’s ass,” I point out.
“And in exchange for that ass saving, I was promised an evening with a rather sexy Magistrate if I recall.”
“You know, you could get in a lot of trouble for trying to blackmail a member of the court,” I warn. I’m not sure why I find myself so outraged at the arrangement between myself and Trunkwater. I’d gone home with plenty of men. Men that in the light of day would have you questioning what you were doing with your life. This was different. I don’t like to be told what to do, and I especially don’t like to be obligated to someone.
“Oh please, feel free to share our arrangement with the Council,” he offers, and I can tell he’s smiling from his voice.
He knows exactly what that would mean. If I were to reveal to the Court the blackmail, I would also have to explain what I asked Walter Trunkwater to do for me, which would certainly spell trouble for Ember Cornwald and me.
“Friday?” I groan, irritated.
“Size six?” he asks. My jaw tightens when I remember that part of the deal. He gets to choose my outfit for the evening. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting under my skin.
“An eight.”
“Great, I’ll have it sent to your office so you can be ready in advance. I’ll send a car around six o’clock?”
“Make it nine,” I correct, trying to limit the amount of time I would be spending with Trunkwater.
He sighs. “Very well. Until Friday.”
I hang up the phone.
“Another lesson in regret,” Piper mutters, staring at me.
I pretend not to hear, and close my eyes again.
Four
Eclipse
I can’t help smiling as I watch Piper race around the room, tidying up and dusting shelves that haven’t seen a rag in nearly a decade. No matter how much Piper has begged to redecorate Joe’s office, I can’t seem to allow her to throw any of his stuff out. It’s hard to create a fresh new look in the place when the past consumes it and the people in it—or rather, the person—me specifically. I’m just not ready to think about moving on in that way.
“You still like him, don’t you?” I ask, breaking our silence.
“What?” she gasps, not slowing in her cleaning endeavors. “Like who?” I can tell by her awkward tone that she knows exactly who I’m talking about.
“I don’t get it, myself, but I guess whatever works for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Piper adamantly continues her denial.
“The kid betrays you, and you still carry a torch for him,” I explain.
She stops and slowly turns to look at me. Her face is two shades of red darker than her red hair. Before she can unleash her wrath, there’s a knock at the door. We both turn our heads without a word.
Waving from the other side of the glass is a man with sandy, chin-length hair that is pushed back off his face. His jaw is square, and even through the glass, at this distance, I can tell his eyes are hazel. My mouth falls open as I drink him in. He’s wearing a T-shirt, so I can see he has broad shoulders and my mind wanders, imagining what other delightful bits his apparel might be hiding.
“Oh my, is this him?” I say in a near-growl. “I can see why you still have a thing for him.”
Piper takes her eyes away from the door and glares at me. “Don’t!” she snaps. I’m not sure if she’s telling me not to tease her, embarrass her, or perhaps not to be attracted to him. I decide to play it safe and do none of the above, though some will be harder to refrain from than others.
I raise my hands defensively and shake my head vigorously. “I’ll be on my best behavior.” She looks at me in disbelief. “I promise!”
Her shoulders slump with a sigh, and she lowers her head as she crosses over to the door and unlocks it. I watch as Piper opens the door, and her face shifts into a large grin. Her voice takes on a high-pitched and completely unrecognizable tone. “Peter, hi.”
He enters and hugs her. I see her legs wobble and wonder if she is going to fall to the floor like a limp noodle.
“Hi, Piper—wow,” he begins, looking her up and down like she’s a snack. Yeah, he’s complet
ely innocent all right. I can tell already this guy isn’t the kind to shy away from trouble or a good time. “You look incredible.”
She lowers her head and thanks him for the compliment. I know she can be a firecracker, so it infuriates me when I see her turn into this mousy, frail thing around men of authority. It apparently applies to super-hot men as well. I clear my throat, more to stop her from making a fool of herself than for any other purpose.
Both sets of eyes dart in my direction. “Oh, yeah,” she continues, ushering Peter into the sitting area. “This is—”
“Tynder Crown.” He nearly leaps over the furniture in his path as he races across the room and scoops up my hand, shaking it wildly. I see Piper’s lips push tightly together; she’s annoyed. There’s that firecracker. “Everyone knows who you are. In your first month, you’ve closed more cases than most Royal Magistrates do in an entire year.”
I pull my hand away, making sure the smile on my face is polite yet not too friendly. “Well, I don’t know about all that, but you do have my name right. Yes, umm—why don’t you take a seat?” I motion to the chair across from me, but he sits next to me instead. Practically on top of me to be exact. I hear a huff from Piper’s general direction.
“Can I get you something?” Piper offers, moving closer to Peter.
He looks at her, and that’s when I see it. There’s something there. When he looks at me, there’s a sense of awe and admiration. But when his eyes search for Piper, his features soften, his breathing slows, and he seems content with only looking at her. He still likes her, too. Maybe he isn’t all bad.
“Water, please,” he says. A sexy bad boy with manners.
Piper glances at me, a warning in her stare, before rushing into the apartment area. “Don’t start until I get back,” she adds over her shoulder.
“So, Peter … you’ve known Piper most of your life then?”
“I guess so, yeah,” he replies, a huge smile still plastered across his face. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard she got this posting.”
