Grave Destiny

by Kalayna Price

  “Well?” I asked, glancing between them.

  “The Sanctuary of Artisans allows fae to contact and commission artisans of rare skills and talents who reside in lands ruled by other courts. It also protects those artisans if they must go to the lands of another court from the risk of being held there or enthralled to stay against their will,” Dugan said.

  “That’s remarkably altruistic for Faerie.” Because enthralling and capturing talent seemed to be the courts’ basic modus operandi.

  “It’s not for the benefit of the artisan,” Falin said, his frown deepening. “It’s so the original court doesn’t risk losing an asset.” He turned back toward Dugan. “I’d hardly call a private detective an artisan.”

  “Ah, but she makes shades. A very rare talent.”

  That first part wasn’t strictly true, as shades were memories stored in every cell of a dead body. My magic just collected all those tiny traces, joined them together, and projected them into something that could be seen, heard, and questioned. The second part was true enough, though.

  “You are twisting the purpose of those ancient agreements to their limits,” Falin said, and Dugan grinned, his entire expression changing from the stern warrior of the shadow court to that of puckish amusement.

  “We are fae. That is our nature. Now, my time is limited.” He lifted the dark, softly glowing stone he carried that held his right to open roads. “There is business to discuss.”

  Chapter 2

  Dugan turned and strode into my office. The movement was efficient, but also grandiose, as if a cape he wasn’t wearing should have been flapping behind him. I opened my shields, not far, just enough that I could peer across the planes of reality, and more importantly, see through glamour. Sure enough, the expensive suit vanished, replaced by dark armor and yep, a dark cloak. A sword hung at his waist, and I caught sight of at least three daggers. He might not look armed in mortal reality, but he had plenty of weapons under his thin veneer of glamour. Not that I expected anything else.

  I didn’t immediately close my shields, but waited until he looked back and I got a clear view of his face. His features didn’t change, which was a relief. For a halting heartbeat, I’d been afraid he’d look back and I’d see someone else, someone who didn’t want to approach me with their own face—I had my share of enemies in Faerie. But the once again guarded face that frowned when he noticed me studying him was that of the Shadow Prince. I couldn’t fault him for wrapping his armor and weapons under a suit of glamour. After all, walking down the sidewalk in the Magic Quarter looking like he stepped off the cover of a romance novel about a medieval dark knight or assassin wouldn’t exactly help him keep a low profile.

  Falin moved closer as I studied the prince. He leaned toward me, his voice pitched low so that his words were for me alone. “You don’t have to treat him any differently than any other potential client who walks through your door. The protections he’s claimed do not guarantee him your services, and he cannot compel or threaten you to work for him without violating the very same agreements that he is hiding behind. You may demand he leave at any time, and if he refuses, I will enforce your request.”

  I nodded my understanding, and I think Falin assumed I’d let him immediately kick Dugan out of my office. I didn’t. I was curious about what the Shadow Prince wanted to hire me to do. Also, I hadn’t dismissed the idea that this might be the case my father wanted me to take. My father played the long game and had his hand in a lot of pots. Just because Dugan hadn’t spoken to him didn’t mean my father wasn’t aware of whatever situation had sent the prince to me.

  Closing my shields, I walked into my office. Falin followed close behind.

  “Are your client meetings not typically confidential?” Dugan asked, his disapproving gaze boring into Falin.

  “I try to protect clients’ privacy,” I said, and turned toward Falin. I didn’t actually want him to go. While I was confident in my ability to deal with most clients who walked through my door, I wasn’t about to turn Falin away when dealing with the Prince of Shadows. I felt safer with him here. The thought must have been clear on my face.

  “This is a matter of court security.” Falin crossed his arms over his chest, his posture daring the prince to challenge his words. “No law protects a private investigator’s meetings, not in the mortal realm or Faerie. The rights you invoked don’t specify a private audience either. If you want to talk to a citizen of winter, you will do so within my presence.”

  Dugan glowered, his dark gaze moving from Falin to me. I gave him a halfhearted shrug, the motion conveying a nonchalant What can we do about it? But in truth I was relieved. The—no doubt ancient—agreements Dugan had invoked offered me some protection, and likely had magically binding stipulations, but I knew enough about the fae to guess there were ways around most things. Those ways might start a war between the courts, but the end result for me would still be potentially deadly, or at the very least, bad for my freedom. Caution and keeping my allies close were smarter than arguing for client confidentiality.

  I rounded my desk and sat, trying not to look like I was ready to spring to my feet again at the smallest provocation. But, of course, I was. Dugan looked between me and Falin one more time before deciding his business was important enough to tolerate the Winter Knight’s presence and sinking gracefully into one of my client chairs. For his part, Falin remained standing, moving to a spot near the door and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, but at least he wasn’t looming. Dugan seemed to be making a point of ignoring him. Which was fine by me.

  “So what can I do for you . . .” I trailed off, searching for the right honorific to use. Typically I called clients mister or missus, but I didn’t know Dugan’s last name. Hell, I didn’t even know if he had a last name. For all I knew he was older than the custom of having surnames. Maybe he was Dugan, son of . . . someone. I could have said Prince Dugan, but that sounded odd and stuffy, and besides, my pause had been too long now, so I tried to play it off as if I had properly ended my question and forced a smile, hoping he wouldn’t note the missing inflection.

  “I’m here to secure your services.”

  I waited, but that was apparently all he planned to say. I pressed my gloved hands together in my lap and tried to maintain my smile. “I assumed as much. I need more details than that.”

  Dugan’s eyes slid to the side, toward Falin, but he didn’t turn. “It is a sensitive matter. Suffice to say that there is a body we need questioned.”

  I nodded, letting the movement hide my relief. I’d been sure I was going to have to explain that my planeweaving services were not up for hire, but a body meant he was interested in my grave magic. “So just a ritual and time spent questioning the shade, then?” I asked as I opened the drawer beside my desk and fished for the standard ritual form Rianna and I had created. I had no doubt it would need a little tweaking, but it would be a good starting point. “Where is the body currently? If it is in the shadow court, it will have to be transported to the mortal realm. There is no land of the dead in Faerie, so I can’t raise shades there.”

  Dugan’s frown etched itself across his face. “We need to question the . . . shade, yes. But we can’t move the body. Not immediately.” Again he hesitated, and this time he twisted in his seat to face Falin. “Winter Knight, must you hover in my blind spot? It is an unbecoming way to treat a fellow warrior. Unless you intend to slide your blade into my back.”

  He’s stalling. Though I had no doubt he was unnerved to have a potential enemy at his back. Falin’s lips twitched, and I couldn’t tell if he was biting back a smile or a frown. Then he crossed the room and leaned on the wall behind my desk. The movement put him at my back instead, but that was okay. I trusted him—most of the time.

  “If the body can’t be moved, I’m not sure I can help. I can’t raise shades in Faerie.” It wasn’t possible. I couldn’t make it any clearer than that.
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  Dugan glared over my shoulder, at Falin. The Winter Knight was making him extremely uncomfortable, but even though he’d complained about the other fae’s presence at his back, I didn’t think fear of a sneak attack was what had him on edge.

  He leaned forward. “Would it not be possible to have some privacy?”

  “No.” Falin’s word was hard, clipped.

  Dugan glowered at him. “I can offer you whatever assurances you require that I mean no harm to my betrothed.”

  I cringed at Dugan’s final word. Behind me, I could feel the weight of Falin’s shocked gaze slam into the back of my head. I considered crawling under my desk, but that wouldn’t have helped me escape his scrutiny.

  I waved a hand through the air, as if dismissing the sudden tension in the room, but I was still cringing. “It’s a long story and not something I have agreed to.”

  And now both men were staring at me. Great. Falin stepped to the side of the desk so that he could see my face.

  “Moving on . . .” I said.

  “No. Not moving on. When exactly did you get betrothed to the Shadow Prince?” There was a chilly calmness to Falin’s voice that spoke of intense emotion just below the icy surface.

  “When I was a baby, I guess?” I said, and glanced at Dugan. He nodded. “So maybe not such a long story. Moving on . . .”

  There were so many questions obvious in the turbulence in Falin’s eyes, and I thought I caught a small thread of jealousy—his outrage more personal than just protecting an asset of the winter court. Which wasn’t fair to either of us, as we weren’t together, and had never truly been together. We’d briefly been lovers—and he got no complaints in that department—but he’d been the one to decide we shouldn’t be together as long as the Winter Queen kept him bound as her knight. So we were just friends, with the occasional lustful glance here or there. That was pretty much the state of my love life all around.

  Falin shot a disgruntled glance at Dugan but remained silent about the betrothal. I would hear about this later, and I had no idea how I would explain it. There were lots of things I hadn’t told Falin, and probably shouldn’t because while I trusted his intentions, he was bound to his queen’s will, and she was not my ally.

  “About that privacy?” Dugan asked, and I shot a glare at him. “The case is of a sensitive matter. I do not wish to share it with the winter court.”

  “You do know I am currently aligned with winter, right?” Not that I had any kind feelings toward the queen, but I was technically an independent in her territory.

  Dugan made a dismissive gesture. “A year and a day as an independent is barely an allegiance. That time will pass in the sigh of a dreamer, or the door might move before the agreed time is over and this territory’s court will change.”

  “You are not speaking to Alex alone,” Falin said, turning his attention back to Dugan. “If you would like to run out the time you have open roads through this court that is fine, but she is not leaving my sight.”

  Dugan’s glare should have seared Falin’s flesh. I sighed.

  “What if you could have privacy to say your piece without Falin leaving?”

  Dugan’s brows knit together. “And how would that be accomplished?”

  I glanced down at the charm bracelet on my wrist. “I have a privacy charm.” I’d ruined most of my personal charms recently, but that was one I’d recast already. It tended to come in handy.

  Dugan looked perplexed, but Falin shook his head. “No.”

  “It’s just a sound bubble. You would be able to see everything and there is no barrier to cross.” The only downside was, I was rather terrible when it came to crafting spells, so the size of that bubble was limited. It was slightly larger than the last one I had made, but not by a lot.

  Dugan was obviously interested, though not convinced. “And this charm blocks all words? You are certain of it?”

  Instead of answering, I pushed away from my desk and stood. I considered walking to the wall, but the amount of space the charm protected was small enough that they were both outside that bubble already. I channeled a small amount of Aetheric energy into the charm. Magic buzzed across my skin as the spell took effect, and since the sound bubble went both ways, silence fell around me.

  “Hello,” I said, waving.

  Both men stared at me blankly. I screamed at the top of my lungs, lifting the charm as I did. In the middle of the scream, I pulled the magic back out of the spell, canceling the effect. The confused look on Dugan’s face turned into the smallest cringe as the last part of my scream cut through the air. Stunned silence fell over the room when I finished.

  I smiled. “No sound escapes.”

  “You could have just said that. I would have taken you at your word.”

  Of course he would have. I was fae. I couldn’t lie. The demonstration had been a little more satisfying, though, and it also proved to Falin that he wouldn’t have to be far to be outside the privacy bubble. I looked to the Winter Knight. He was still scowling, but he gave a very small nod, indicating he’d be okay with this plan.

  I walked around my desk and pulled the other client chair closer to Dugan’s. He lifted a dark eyebrow, watching me as I sat on the edge of the seat, my knees all but brushing his. I didn’t like the proximity, but my spell covered very little area. I activated the charm and let my senses stretch, feeling for the edge of the bubble. Dugan was right on the edge of the effect. If he stirred or breathed too deeply while he spoke, every few words would escape. I scooted my chair even closer, and I could feel the chill of Falin’s stare as I had to angle my hips to keep my legs from touching Dugan’s. But he was safely inside the privacy bubble now.

  “So, tell me about the case,” I said, trying not to squirm in my seat. I would have liked to sit back, but the bubble of privacy was centered on me and any comfortable position would have put Dugan too close to the edge.

  He gave one sideways glance toward Falin, and then turned partially away from him—not so that the other man was at his back, but so that he didn’t have a clear view of his face, and I guessed, his lips. I had no idea if Falin could read lips, but whatever the prince wanted to discuss, he certainly was concerned about keeping it secret. Of course, the shadow court was also known as the court of secrets, so maybe it was just his nature.

  “What I and the shadow court need to hire you for is very delicate. Yes, we need you to raise a shade, but if possible, we need you to examine the scene. To document any evidence the same way you would for a mortal court of law.”

  I held up a hand. “I’m an investigator, but I don’t solve murders. That is a task for the police.”

  “I believe you have been instrumental in solving several murder cases of late.”

  That was true, but I hadn’t walked into any of those cases planning to investigate murder. And I definitely didn’t work cases in such a way that they could be presented before a judge and jury. Heck, in most of those previous cases, once I’d finally tracked down the killer, they’d ended up as decayed ash and someone with a very high pay grade had marked the cases classified and redacted any and all mentions of me.

  “That’s not the kind of investigator I am. If you need a case built, especially one that would hold up in the mortal realm, you need to contact an official authority. Nothing I documented would be considered admissible or within chain of evidence.” My gaze moved to Falin, because he was one of those authorities. He was the lead agent in charge of the local Fae Investigation Bureau.

  Falin caught my look, and I noted the anxiety snagging at the edges of his eyes and lips as he tried to read what my expression might mean. I gave him a weak smile, trying to reassure him, but it must have been pretty poor because it only made him look more worried.

  Dugan’s lips twisted with thought, not quite a frown, but a very serious expression as he considered my words. “Questioning the deceased is the
most important thing. Anything you could document about the scene would be a helpful bonus. Learning the connection between the bodies, and why our fae was where he was when he died, is of the most importance. And who killed him, of course.”

  “Bodies?” As in more than one. But it sounded like Dugan’s interest was focused more heavily on one.

  Dugan nodded.

  “Why me? Obviously you need a grave witch, but surely there is someone more easily accessible to you. And as far as investigating the scene, I’m sure your court has its own investigators who are better qualified than me. Someone the equivalent of the Fae Investigation Bureau like the seasonal courts use.”

  “Shadow has no direct doors to the human realm, so we have no organization like the seasonal courts’ FIB because we have no direct interaction with mortals. On the occasions crimes have occurred within our court, we’ve relied on . . . more archaic means of determining guilt,” he said, and I could only imagine what he meant. From my experience, the fae who resided in Faerie tended toward a preindustrial society. Pre-Victorian investigations tended to lack any need for scientific evidence or proof. The dismay on my face must have been obvious, because he nodded solemnly before moving on. “As to why you, there are a number of reasons. As you said, the ability to question the deceased is the most obvious. There are other grave witches out there, but you are the only practicing witch who has interacted with our court. You are also familiar with modern methods of investigating murder, even if you are not officially authorized to do so in the mortal realm. But you in particular because while you are not connected to our court, you are someone our court believes we can trust.”