Tithes (Ava Delaney

by Claire Farrell

  “I’m on my way,” I said. “If none of this is connected, at least we’ll have crossed a few points of interest off the list.”

  “There’s a list?”

  “Sort of.” I smiled. “So what do you really think of Alex?”

  I could sense his amusement over the phone. “I think he’s trying very hard to be irreplaceable. I respect his enthusiasm. Given his past, it’s admirable how he’s picked himself back up. He’s certainly been useful to me.”

  “Tell him to look out for mentions of tithes in the books he’s researching,” I said. “In relation to slavery, I mean. I heard a few stories that make me curious.”

  “I’ll pass it on. Will you be here this morning?”

  “Yeah. I need to go clothes shopping later. I’m going to a charity event to spy on people.”

  “Well,” he said. “You certainly lead an interesting life.”

  “Go me.” I sighed. “Give me an hour or two.”

  I quickly dressed and decided a visit to Carl was overdue. He answered the door after I persisted in knocking for about ten minutes.

  “Jesus Christ, what do you want?” he said, running his hands through his hair.

  “You look like crap. Haven’t you heard of a shower?” I brushed past him. “Get ready. We’re going on a field trip today.”

  “Like hell I am.”

  I turned to look at him. “I have shit to do, and you’re going to do it with me because we don’t have time to sit around here, feeling sorry for ourselves while we talk things out. Go get ready. I’ll make coffee.”

  Grumbling, he trotted off to clean himself up. By the time I had made some coffee and a sausage sandwich, he was looking ten times better. But he was still grumpy.

  “I don’t get what you need me for.”

  “Moral support,” I said.

  “You just want to keep an eye on me.”

  “No, I just miss you.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  I pulled the crust off my bread and threw it at him. It landed in his coffee cup with a satisfying plop.

  “Oh, very mature,” he said.

  “Will you just talk to me? Look, I’m sorry I’ve been preoccupied, but there’s been a lot going on around here.”

  “You weren’t preoccupied when Esther needed you.”

  I exhaled heavily. “Carl, what was I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know!” He shoved his cup away. “But it really seems like you two made plans for me without even asking. Oh, it’s grand. Carl will be okay. Maybe I’m not okay!”

  “I can see you’re not okay. Now tell me why.”

  “I thought I’d found my place in the world, Ava.” He stretched his hands out on the table, looking as though he couldn’t sit still in his own skin. “I was starting to feel like I had a life of my own. I had a job, and Esther made me think… she made me think I was over Maria for good. She leaves, letting me think we’re going to try to be together when she returns. Then she comes back with a freaking soul mate or some shit, and she doesn’t even bother telling me about it. And there you are, all matter-of-fact about my feelings, how I should be happy that Esther’s okay. Well, I’m not fucking happy, Ava.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry, Carl.”

  “I loved that job,” he said bitterly. “And now I’ve lost it, lost any sense of hope that things were actually getting better, and then a slave baby shows up. Of all things.” He frowned. “Where’s the baby?”

  “Phoenix and some witch took her away,” I said. “They reckon she’s safer with them.” I shrugged. “The baby might have magic, so the coven think she’s their responsibility. And they’re trying some spell to see if they can figure out where she came from.”

  “Oh. That’s shit. But it still doesn’t excuse you at the bar. Acting like you own me. I’m not yours, Ava. You can’t keep getting possessive all of the time.”

  “You realise what it looked like,” I said. “I felt like I was back in the past… I’ve been feeling that a lot lately.”

  “Because of Wes?”

  “Wes, slaves, even you. I feel like I’m totally out of control, like there’s no safety net anymore.”

  “Me, too.” He leaned forward to rest his chin in his palm. “Stop making me feel sorry for you.”

  “I’m sorry for acting the way I have been.” I took his free hand in mine. “You know you’re my best friend. I just thought if I explained how it was for Esther that you’d understand. This mate thing is crazy. It’s like love at first sight or something. She’ll always be a shifter. She needed to come to terms with what that means, and Patrick helped her do it. I’m sorry if you feel I took her side or wasn’t there for you. That wasn’t my intention. Ever. And I’m especially sorry I made a holy show of you in the bar in front of your succubus friend.”

  “That last bit might come across better if you didn’t sound so sarcastic.”

  “Oh, come on. Cut me a little slack. I’ve been stressed, too.”

  “Fine.” He waved a hand and sat back in his chair. “What have I missed?”

  I caught him up on everything, including the ball, which made him laugh hysterically for five minutes. “Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll keep you company today. If only to make jokes at your expense when you try on dresses.”

  I let him have that because I was glad he was no longer mad at me. I was used to Carl’s mood swings, but the highs and lows had grown so dangerously disparate that I feared he would up and leave someday.

  When we stood to leave, I drew him in for a bear hug. “I missed you, you big oaf.”

  “Let’s not get soppy.” But he kissed the top of my head, and I knew I was forgiven.

  He drove us to the offices to see Breslin. Alex was waiting, hopping from one foot to the other in his apparent excitement.

  “I found her!” He held out the door for us and followed us to Breslin’s office. “I took the mugshot and did a reverse image search until I found some profiles online that could have matched. I have, like, three possibilities, but I’m leaning towards one of them. You can see what you think. Or we could—”

  “That’ll be fine,” I said, exchanging an amused glance with Carl.

  Breslin’s office was absolutely covered in books and papers. I stepped gingerly around piles, unable to find a seat.

  “Sorry about the mess,” he said, turning a laptop around for me to see. “Alex has three profiles here for you to look at.”

  I took a quick look before choosing the final one. “This is her. Jennifer Boyle. That guy in the background was with her little gang. Can we print this out, too?”

  “On it,” Alex said, quickly retrieving the laptop and leaving the room.

  Breslin breathed a sigh of relief. “He’ll only be a few moments. That sealed box in the corner is for you, if you wish to take it. Some information you might find interesting, if not pertinent to your questions.”

  “Thanks.”

  Alex returned in record time with photos and directions. “I don’t know her exact address, but you could knock around doors and ask. Or I could—”

  “We’ll handle it,” Carl said, taking the information from Alex, who looked mildly disappointed.

  I grabbed the box, and we returned to the car with what we needed.

  “This is going to be awkward,” Carl said. “Knocking on doors and asking if anybody has seen this girl.”

  “You’re charming. It’ll be fine. Besides, we can just ask where her family lives.”

  “What if her family is involved?” he said as he pulled away from the offices. “Might get dangerous. Shouldn’t you be giving this information to Shay?”

  “I will. After.” I folded my arms across my chest. “This bitch tried to shoot me.”

  He snorted before stopping for coffee at a nearby garage. Back on the road again, we tried to make sense of the things I had learned along the way. When said out loud, it really wasn’t much.

  The shooter lived in an affluent part of Dublin. “Smel
ls like money,” Carl joked.

  “This could all be a couple of rich kids playing games,” I said. “But I doubt it.” I dug into the box that Breslin had given me. The books included a few diaries I’d kept out of Carl’s sight, a ledger book, and a couple of random items that I wasn’t sure would be of any use. I flipped through the ledger then paused and skimmed the page I was on.

  It was a list of items, trades or deals of some sort, all written in tiny, faded writing. And amongst the names, right after each other, were Phoenix and Helena. After Phoenix’s name was a design of some sort, kind of like a family crest, and after Helena, a word had been written and scribbled out until it was no longer legible. And across the page, after Phoenix, it said “to be confirmed.” After Helena, it said “traded.”

  I slammed the book shut. What the hell did that mean? What dealings did Phoenix and Helena have with Mrs. Yaga?

  “What’s up?” Carl asked.

  “Nothing,” I lied. “Just tired of squinting at bad handwriting.”

  I moved on to another book. It was even harder to read, but there were no familiar names within. The newest book was more of a diary. Mrs. Yaga had gotten slack in her old age. I came across an entry that said: “Found the tainted nephal. It will work.” I immediately assumed she meant me, but then I caught the date—half a century before I was born. This was getting weirder.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Carl asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just weird. I found an entry in Mrs. Yaga’s diary about a tainted nephal.”

  “She recorded meeting you?”

  “No, it was before I was born. So it’s somebody else.”

  He glanced at me. “I thought you were supposed to be rare.”

  “Yeah, me, too. I wonder what happened to this one?”

  “They lived happily ever after.”

  I looked at him askance.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “Let’s just assume they had a great life somewhere.” He frowned. “Think they’re still alive?”

  “I’ve no idea. They must be old. Maybe we do that—live long lives, I mean. When we’re not hunted down and killed.”

  “Oh.” He shot me a worried look. “You’re going to outlive me.”

  “Why would you even say something like that?”

  “I wouldn’t like to outlive you,” he said. “That would be boring.”

  “Seriously, stop talking.”

  “We’re here now anyway.” He pulled off the road sharply, giving me a minor heart attack. “Give me a photo.”

  When I wasn’t fast enough to separate the photo from the rest of the pages in my hands, he whipped it away himself. Maybe I wasn’t completely forgiven then.

  “Right,” he said, taking one last look at the shooter’s photo. “I’ll start on the other side of the road while you take this one. We’ll meet up at the end.”

  He was out of the car before I could reluctantly agree. I wasn’t looking forward to knocking on doors and asking questions. The first couple of houses were empty—realising nobody was going to answer was a strangely delicious relief—and the next was occupied by a suspicious old woman who didn’t like my hair and wasn’t afraid to repeatedly tell me so.

  I was starting to think I should have stayed in bed when Carl whistled to catch my attention. I said goodbye to the old woman, who muttered under her breath, then I ran across the road to where Carl was waiting outside a house.

  “Got an address,” he said. “Nice lady knew exactly who I was looking for. The Boyles are not a popular family, apparently. Bad attitude. Definitely human though.”

  “She told you all that?” I looked at the house in surprise. “I could barely get anyone to answer the door.”

  “I have the magic touch,” he said. “Come on. It’s around the corner.”

  We found the right house. A middle-aged man answered the door and refused to let us in when we mentioned his daughter.

  “She ran away,” he said. “I’ve no idea where she is.”

  “Mr. Boyle, you do know she was arrested, right?” I said. “For shooting someone.”

  “Ridiculous,” he said, but he looked a little frightened. “Jenny could never… where would she even get a gun?”

  “That’s what we’d like to know, sir,” Carl said. “Did you pay the bail money?”

  The man folded his arms, looking haughty. “I did not pay for anything. She’s caused me enough trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Carl asked.

  “Never you mind.” Mr. Boyle shook his head. “It’s nothing. She’s not…”

  He made to close the door, but I blocked his way.

  “She’s disappeared,” I said. “There’s going to be a very public investigation into this. The newspapers will find out and ream your family because of it.”

  “I don’t know where she is,” he insisted. “I haven’t given her any money.”

  “Do you have access to any of her bank accounts or savings?” Carl asked.

  “I can get it,” the man said, looking relieved to be helpful. “I can freeze them. They’re all connected to my account.”

  “That would be a good idea.” I pushed a photo in front of him. “Do you recognise this young man?”

  He made a face. “That’s her boyfriend. What’s his name? Something Foley, I think. An annoying little prick if ever I met one.” He nodded. “You know what? I bet he got the gun.” He lowered his voice. “He’s not even human.”

  “Yeah?” I said. “Neither am I.”

  He stuttered an apology before handing over every scrap of information he could remember about Jennifer’s boyfriend. “His family are tough,” he warned. “I’d be careful if I were you.”

  I bared my fangs. “I’m always careful.”

  He had slammed the door before I finished the sentence.

  “You have to stop intimidating people,” Carl said. “He could have had more information.”

  “Stop trying to spoil all my fun.” I checked my watch. “Shit, the time it is. I have to head into town to pick something up to wear. Will you please come with me?”

  “Yes, I’ll come with you.” He led the way back to the car. “What about the boyfriend? Think he’s hiding the shooter?”

  “Maybe. He didn’t expect the bit about the gun, but he sounded kind of resigned to the fact she might be in trouble. Maybe he’s right, and this Foley family are in charge. Should we take a quick look before passing this on to Shay?”

  “Might as well follow through,” he said. “And if they’re as tough as Mr. Boyle reckons, I’ll even let you off your leash.” He grinned at my pained expression. “Come on then.”

  We drove across town to the boyfriend’s home. His neighbourhood wasn’t half as posh as Jennifer’s. The Foley family lived over a corner shop that had been closed down. We knocked at the door, and a woman answered it, flour all over her hands. She recognised me and took a step back.

  “Foley, right?” Carl said.

  The woman nodded, her eyes darting from Carl back to me.

  “Where is he?” I asked. “Is the girl here, too?”

  “What girl?” she said, recovering. “I’m confused. Are you looking for my son or my husband?”

  “Your son’s girlfriend is a wanted criminal,” Carl said. “Is Jennifer Boyle hiding here?”

  “Absolutely not.” The woman stiffened. “We keep to ourselves, keep our noses clean. Austin causes no trouble.”

  “Austin’s your son?” Carl said.

  She nodded. “He’s a good boy. No trouble.”

  “Then why was your son involved with a gun-wielding gang who were running a protection racket across town?” I asked.

  She swallowed hard then called her husband, who seemed just as shocked as she was. I couldn’t tell what kind of supernatural creature they were, but it hadn’t brought them any prosperity. And they certainly weren’t “rough.”

  “The police will be back to ask you more questions,” I said more kindly as it became a
pparent that both parents were scared out of their wits. “Be prepared for that. Jennifer is the one we’re looking for specifically right now, but Austin is a witness. He’ll have information we need, too.”

  “What will they do to him?” the father asked.

  “Ask him questions,” I said. “What happens next depends on his answers. If you see him, I’d advise him to cooperate.”

  We left them there, clinging to each other, and I felt sorry for them both.

  “You’re strict,” Carl whispered as we walked away.

  “Not even gonna smile, never mind laugh. I still have to buy something to wear. This is the worst day ever.”

  “So is this event thing a date or what?” Carl asked.

  “I think it’s a job,” I said. “Phoenix wants me to mingle, see if there’s anything I can find out.”

  “But you’re his date to this thing, right?”

  “No, I’m…” I had no idea what I was in relation to Phoenix, charity events or otherwise. “A friend?”

  “You don’t sound convinced.” He guided me to the car then patted my head as though contemplating something.

  Frowning, I waited for him to unlock the car. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Phoenix is pretty tall. How do you even—”

  “Do not finish that sentence if you value your life,” I said as fiercely as I could manage in public without drawing attention to us.

  He grinned, but he piped down until we got into the car. “Who’s going to be at this thing anyway?”

  “All of the Senate, reporters, I don’t know, important people?”

  “And little old Delaney is going to be joining them.” He rubbed his hands together before starting the car. “That settles it.”

  “Settles what?”

  “We’re going to make them all notice you.”

  I tutted and looked out the window. “I think you’ve forgotten that I don’t actually want to be noticed.”

  “I know you like Phoenix. You’re going shopping for him.” He started the car. “He’s seen you all grubby and normal. Now we need him to see you when you’re done up like a little cracker.”