by Lyra Evans
“Just thinking about old times,” Oliver said softly. The Wolves disappeared beyond the edge of the tree line, and Oliver lost sight of them. He would have traded places with them in an instant, his body full of anxious energy, begging to be released by running. But Oliver had to play a long game. A subtle one.
And then something else struck him. Fae magic worked on exchanges. If Sky really was the killer, he would have had to make exchanges for each magical component of the murders. Getting rid of the sense evidence was definitely one exchange. Wiping the memories of the border agents was another. And then stopping the wards around Connor’s estate to get inside undetected.
“Anything in particular?” Sky asked, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. His smirk had none of Connor’s cool, mischievous draw, nothing that begged to be kissed. Instead, Sky’s smirk was superior, self-satisfied, and Oliver took a deep, calming breath.
He wasn’t sure exactly how it was Sky could have stopped the wards working to enter Connor’s estate, but he did know what the trade would be for memories. To take someone else’s memory, Sky would have had to give up one of his own. A similar one. If it was the border crossing he’d erased, he would have had to give up a border crossing. Which could be one of thousands, given his status as Special Investigator.
No. He would have picked an unpleasant one. Something that either made him look bad or something that made him angry.
They’d crossed the border together, several times, into Maeve’s Court and Logan’s Court. Training in law enforcement meant they got around at that time. But Oliver remembered a specific crossing he thought Sky would want to forget. It was soon after they’d begun seeing each other, and it was the first time Oliver saw Sky’s possessiveness. He’d thought it sexy, at the time, but it seemed a great deal more sinister now.
“I was just thinking about that Fae Ball we went to, when we first started dating,” Oliver said offhand, turning his attention to Sky’s face. “I was so nervous because I’d never been to a formal ball before. And you kept finding ways to grope me when no one was looking.”
Sky laughed, a burbling sound like water over pebbles. “That wasn’t that unusual, though, was it?” Sky said, and of course he was right. He’d find ways, even in front of sergeants and captains, to feel Oliver up.
“That part wasn’t, but then you got so angry at the border guard on the way back,” Oliver said, still lifting his voice in false nostalgia. “He kept hitting on me, telling me to give him a call if I wanted to see how ‘real soldiers’ did it, not just padded pencil-pushers like the Special Investigators.” As he watched, Sky’s expression slipped only a fraction of a second. It was barely the blink of an eye, but it was there. His smile was no longer easy and proud, but stilted, like plaster on a balloon.
“Fucking dickbag,” Sky said, playing off his moment of confusion. And Oliver nodded along knowingly, his heart racing.
“Yeah,” Oliver said. “You even called him something to his face. It was a play on his name, remember? Something like Fucktor instead of Victor?”
“I think it was Rubber Dick, instead of Robert,” Sky said with a short laugh. Oliver laughed. The border guard’s name had been Linus, and the joke had been ‘Anus.’
“And then he got all puffed up, threatened to deny you entry,” Oliver went on, laughing a bit as he studied Sky’s face. The lines around his eyes were almost perfectly immobile. “And you got so angry you actually punched him in the face. Nearly knocked him out.”
Sky chuckled and shook his head, his hands still on the steering wheel. “I was so drunk. Definitely not thinking clearly. Drunk and around you are a bad combination it seems,” he said, and Oliver agreed. Only Sky hadn’t punched Linus. To show his ownership of Oli, he’d pulled him into a vise-grip and began making out with him, grinding his hips into Oli’s and kneading his ass, right in front of the border guards. And as they passed the guard to go into Nimueh’s Court, Sky had thrown Linus a look and said, “Oli deserves someone hotter than he is. You’ll never be at my level, Line-Ass.”
But Sky didn’t seem at all concerned by his false recollections of the evening. Instead he drove on with a vaguely pleased smirk on his face, his gaze sometimes shifting appreciatively to Oli’s body in the passenger seat. Oli, meanwhile, was trying hard to hide his vindication. But still he only had one memory Sky had gotten rid of. And even that was thin. People forgot things. It was normal.
Although why Sky would bother to lie about something he’d forgotten naturally was a good question. Perhaps he couldn’t tell, anymore, what he’d forgotten naturally and what he hadn’t. Because forgotten memories could be recalled using expert healing magic. But lost memories—memories erased by magic—were gone forever.
Needing more proof, Oliver tried to think of how he would get rid of sense evidence. It seemed, as he thought, that sense evidence was tantamount to sense. So to take away a sense, maybe Sky had to give one up. Something small, not a full sense, only part of one. He wouldn’t have to sacrifice his vision or his hearing for a trade that minimal. But maybe seeing a specific colour, or a pixel’s worth of space on his retina. Or maybe he couldn’t hear a specific tone anymore, or one singular sound. But there were thousands or millions of options. Oliver couldn’t possibly go through every aspect of Sky’s five senses to identify one he might have erased.
This is about you, Oli. It all has meaning to the both of you.
The spot beneath his ear. When they’d study together, or lie on the couch, bodies entangled, to watch something inane, Oliver had only to brush his fingers against the spot beneath Sky’s ear on his neck to get Sky to give him his full attention. Oliver had used it time and again to get Sky to kiss him, to fuck him, to suck him off in the library late one night. As though it was a switch to turn Sky on, Oliver had always delighted in brushing his fingertips there, or peppering the spot with light kisses. Sky would melt against him, his body responding immediately, and would then bring Oli along some mind-blowing sexual adventure. Until it ended, and Sky was angry. He hated the spot, hated being at someone else’s mercy. He always told Oli off for touching him there. Even accused him of being a slut once.
Oliver turned bodily toward Sky, ignoring the press of his knees against the centre console of the car. He leaned his head against the headrest of the seat, his unruly brown hair falling into his eyes, and considered Sky. After a moment or two, Sky glanced at him and half-smiled.
“What? What is it?” he asked. Oliver smiled slowly at him.
“Nothing,” Oliver said, running his fingers softly over the top of Sky’s wrist as he held the stick shift. Fingers trailing slowly up Sky’s arm, Oliver let his eyes follow the trail. Pink tongue peaking out to wet his lips, Sky breathed deeply and tried to focus his attention on the road.
But Oliver wasn’t finished. He drew his fingers up Sky’s bicep and finally toward the tiny area beneath his ear that put Sky in his power. His fingertips brushed skin, sweeping tiny circles over Sky’s warm neck, and his thumb smoothed over the bottom of Sky’s earlobe. And nothing.
Not a single reaction, not even a hint of movement. It was as though the Sky didn’t feel anything in that spot anymore. As though he’d given up his ability to feel there.
“What is it?” Sky asked again, as Oli’s fingers played in the short hair behind Sky’s ear. His mind was elsewhere, though, his spine chilled by the reality that Sky had excised every perceived weakness in himself as he went around murdering innocent people. All to get back to Oli.
But Oli was saved from answering as they pulled up to the border. He shrugged and got out of the car, ignoring Sky’s burning gaze at his back. He felt dirty, coated in a sneaking ooze that wouldn’t wash off. The sky darkened above them, and Oliver cast a glance up at it as they walked to the guard booth. Clouds, thick and grey and billowing as the smoke of a forest fire, rolled in, promising a storm. Oliver shivered, though it was so much warmer than it had been the previous few days. Connor was still out there somewhere. In t
he distance, a sheet of rain blurred the line of the horizon. Oliver hoped that, wherever Connor was, he was sheltered.
“Detective Worth,” the guard said, as they approached. “Special Investigator Hawthorne. What can we help you with?”
The woman was tall and broad, her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a tight knot. The tag on her uniform read Mathers.
“Were you on duty last night between two a.m. and five thirty this morning?” Oliver asked. She nodded.
“Indeed I was,” she said. “Kleinberg, too. We’ve been on since midnight.” Her eyes travelled between Oli and Sky, one eyebrow rising. “What’s this about?”
Sky studied the landscape at the border, scanning the road and surrounding ground. Oliver wondered why he bothered trying so hard. He seemed calm and relaxed, which Oliver supposed he would be. He knew they weren’t going to find anything here.
“Missing persons case,” Oliver said, brushing aside the unasked questions. The border guards had to know about the murders in Logan’s Court by now. The conspicuous lack of a Werewolf in their company was probably more information than the guards needed to figure out the missing person. “We believe the suspect may have crossed the border during that time. Anyone suspicious stand out?”
Mathers thought about it for a moment, and as she did, her partner, Kleinberg, walked out to join them. Kleinberg was slightly shorter than Mathers, her dark hair pulled back into a shiny braid. Oliver nodded to her.
“Can’t think of anyone,” Mathers said. “Didn’t have many crossings last night. Only a couple Wolves returning from business in Maeve’s Court. Had to cross both kingdoms in a single night. Brutal.”
Oliver nodded. “No one leaving Logan’s Court?”
Kleinberg said, “Not last night.”
Sky’s attention came back to the guards, his emerald eyes roving over their faces like laser cutting diamond. “Any memory blanks? Unexplained blackouts in your recollection you can’t account for?”
Oliver found himself holding his breath, meaning to ask the same question. This was the best they’d get, surely. If Mathers and Kleinberg had their memories erased, then it clearly meant that Sky’s secondary location was set up in Nimueh’s Court. And it meant that Oliver had an advantage. He knew Nimueh’s Court inside and out, as though they’d been lovers once. After his breakup with Sky, Oliver had wandered the streets until he knew many areas well enough to map them himself.
He prepared himself for the gavel to fall, for the case to transition from one thing to another. Chest tight, Oliver found himself leaning in to hear—
“Nope,” Mathers said. “I’m not aware of any, anyway.”
“Me neither,” Kleinberg added. “Nothing seems strange at all.”
Oliver froze, his heart stopped. “What?” he asked, unable to stop himself. They shot him strange looks. “I mean, are you sure? Can I check?”
They shrugged and nodded, and Oliver cast the spell into his hands and held it by their faces for a moment or two. Flooded with the memories and chaotic thoughts of another person, Oliver sifted through quickly until he found himself reliving the current conversation. There were no blanks. No missing memories.
Sky hadn’t crossed the border last night. Connor was still in Logan’s Court.
Oliver checked the other guard, but the result was the same. The wind blown out of him, Oliver went back to the car in a daze, unsure of what he said to the guards after he checked them. He slid into his seat just as the first heavy drops of rain splattered the windshield. They tapped down on the glass with so much force they sounded like hail, but the air was too warm for ice.
Sky got in and drove them down the road, their destination unclear to Oliver. His eyes watched the rain washing away snow and turning the hardened ground to mud and muck, but Oliver didn’t take any of it in. His hands and feet felt cold.
“I’m sorry, Oli,” Sky said quietly. “I know you were hoping for another lead,” he said, placing a hand on Oliver’s arm to comfort him. Sky’s palm seemed to burn him, melting his skin away until the muscle lay bare and smoking. Oliver didn’t move. “But this means that Pierce is still in Logan’s Court. Which is probably a good sign for him. Means you’ll probably get to tell him what a cheating scumbag he is to his face after all.”
Even in his trance-like state, Oliver noted the sudden use of Connor’s last name. He noted the reference to the Ember messages. Oliver felt each word, each thought, like a slice to the heart, as though a psychopathic doctor was performing a botched surgery on him while awake.
“We need to go back to Connor’s place,” Oliver said with sudden surety. He looked out the window. Streams of rainwater rushed down the window, turning the world beyond into an oblique, warped mess of colour. “I need to talk to Donna. See what the Wolves have found.”
“Good idea,” Sky said, and they drove. They drove toward Connor’s home, and all the while, Oliver’s mind worked to formulate his next steps.
They pulled into the driveway to find it full of all the cars that had been there before. If the Wolves had completed their search, they hadn’t left the manor in Human form. Oliver wondered if they were still out in the downpour, darting through the rain to try and find their missing Alpha.
On the front steps of Connor’s house, Oliver stopped and turned to the woods around the house. Sky stopped too, studying him, then followed his gaze out to the trees.
“See something?” Sky asked. Oliver’s heart was so loud it muted the thunder.
“I want to walk the perimeter. I need to see the most likely point where the killer entered and exited. Maybe there’s some clue there.”
One red eyebrow arched, green eyes boring into Oliver. “Now?” Sky asked. “It’s pouring, Oliver; any evidence would be washed away.”
Oliver shook his head. “Not magical evidence,” he said. “And if he took down the wards, it had to be with magic of some kind. That doesn’t go away with water.” He shifted from foot to foot, his eyes on Sky as Sky stared unblinkingly out at the trees. “I still need to talk to Donna, though. Can you go ahead of me and start looking? I don’t want to waste any more time. I’ll meet you out there.”
A flare of satisfaction rose in Oliver as Sky smiled at him. “I was just about to suggest that,” he said. “I’ll start around the Southeast side and work my way clockwise, yeah?”
Oliver nodded, and as Sky stepped back toward the rain, he added, “here.” He cast an umbrella spell over Sky’s head, tethering it to the jade buttons of his shirt beneath the jacket. It would last a while, anyway. Until Oliver could go out to meet him.
“Always thinking of me,” Sky said, brushing his thumb over Oliver’s cheek before turning to disappear into the rain. Oliver shuddered slightly as he watched Sky go, then turned into the house to find Donna. He didn’t have much time, and he needed to hear what she’d found.
By the time Oliver made it out to find Sky, the storm had worsened and Sky had made it to the Western edge of the grounds. Oliver tracked him down amid a copse of old pines and maple trees. He hung back against the trunk of one of the pines, sheltered by the thick needles and wide foliage of the maples. The ground beneath him was only damp compared to the swamp Oliver had waded through to get to him. Oliver shook out his hair with one hand, the thick tendrils plastered to his face and ears. Sky’s dark red hair, however, was still styled to perfection as though it hadn’t been raining a monsoon over him.
“Find anything?” Oliver asked, announcing his presence. Sky looked up with a smirk.
“Afraid not,” he said. “Not yet, anyway. You forgot your umbrella spell,” he added, nodding at Oliver’s sopping head. Oliver shook his head, spraying the ground with a tiny rainfall.
“It’s raining too hard for it, it seems,” Oliver said. “Or maybe I just didn’t strengthen it enough. I don’t have any jade to tether it to. Did yours give out?”
Sky nodded. “Just a few minutes ago. My jade buttons aren’t enough, I guess. What did Donna say?”
&nbs
p; Oliver sighed and leaned against the tree trunk next to Sky, his back to the rough bark. The forest smelled of earth and wet wood. It smelled of life.
“The Wolves had to stop the search,” Oliver said, frustration biting into his words. “Can’t find anything in rain like this. Their senses get muddled, apparently. Once the rain stops, they can sort through the smells and find the one they want again, but the downpour makes it almost impossible, apparently. Said most of the Wolves had massive headaches from it.” He shook his head. “We’re running out of time, though. I don’t know what I’ll do if—” but Oli stopped himself. “If I can’t solve this case,” he adjusted, letting his fear play into a different role. “I’ll be the laughing stock of the NCPD. Probably get demoted. And banned from Logan’s Court, obviously.”
“Come on, Oli,” Sky said, sidling up against him. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’ll figure it out. Storm or not. I’m not surprised Werewolves can’t function properly in the storm. Nothing can get around really. Not in a storm like this.” He hummed softly. “Remember our first storm in Logan’s Court? On our survival training at the Academy?”
A sheet slid off Oliver, his eyes suddenly clear and all the tension falling away. The survival training. They’d been dumped into the heart of one of the forests of Logan’s Court without a map or gemstones of any kind for Oliver and had to survive for three nights to make their way back to the main road. On the second night, a storm rolled in to rival this one, with rain falling so hard and wild it felled trees. Lightning made the forest even more dangerous, and Oliver and Sky had been forced to take shelter in a nearby cave they found. They’d managed to build a fire to wait it out. But it had been cold. So cold. And Oliver had wanted Sky for weeks without ever saying anything.
They’d been forced to lie together, naked beneath their gathered materials, to share heat and conserve it. And Oliver had been so hard, so turned on by Sky behind him, naked and holding him tightly. He’d been so embarrassed, so nervous, it had taken him fifteen full minutes to realize that Sky was hard too, pressing against him. That had been their first time—fucking slowly, barely moving, in the dirt and leaves of an empty cave in a rainstorm.
