Tracking the Tempest

by Nicole Peeler

Page 34

 

  I smiled and nodded my head in recognition of what was clearly a thank-you gesture, before carefully gathering up the wet towel so it wouldn't drip.

  “Anyan, why is there a brownie in my living room? I thought they were extinct. ” Ryu was carefully controlling his voice, but I could tell he was completely freaked out.

  “Nope, not extinct. Just got tired of serving the Alfar's endless demands. ” The barghest smiled down at the now much calmer little creature and then said something to it in that strange chittering language.

  “And he speaks the old tongue,” Ryu said, throwing up his own hands in a gesture of surrender. “Of course he does. ” As he stalked toward the corner of the kitchen that held the liquor, I realized he meant Anyan, not the brownie.

  I set the towel down on the floor next to me before turning to Caleb.

  “What's going on?” I whispered.

  The satyr blinked at me and then gave me a rueful smile. “You take everything in such stride, Jane, that I forget this is all new to you. ” Caleb was complimenting me, and I blushed. I wasn't a big fan of compliments.

  “The Alfar are old, but they were not the first. The First Magics are a race utterly foreign to us, and very diverse in their origins and strengths. They are rare now. Some died naturally, but most died either by our hands or the encroachment of man into their lands. Brownies are of theFirst Magics, but they were happy to serve either Alfar or man for the price of a place to live and food to eat. Eventually, they were allowed to serve only the Alfar. But they disappeared, slowly, from our Territories, years and years ago. We figured they'd died out. Apparently, we were wrong. ”

  I had, of course, heard of brownies from my reading of human mythology. But I found it hard to believe that the little household sprites that one would placate with a saucer of cream not only existed, but also that they were of a magic and lineage older even than the Alfar.

  “Does this mean they serve whoever rules the Borderlands?” I asked. Caleb only shrugged, his eloquent expression illustrating the depth of the mystery unfolding before our eyes.

  “Wow,” I breathed as I watched Anyan and the brownie chitter at one another. Finally, the creature gathered together its six little fists and then flung out its arms with an equally explosive burst of that strange magic I'd felt when it had appeared.

  We all ducked, throwing strength into our shields, but all that happened was that a file folder appeared, floating in front of Anyan's face.

  The big man smiled as he took the folder in exchange for Julian's list of new names to be investigated. Anyan bowed his head at the brownie and then chittered what I imagined to be his thanks. The little creature reached out the hands on its left side, clutching the folded-up list with his right, in order to shake Anyan's finger. After which it gave me a little wave, the rest of the room two emphatic middle fingers, and disappeared with another audible poof.

  Ryu wandered back, something tea-colored and sharp-smelling floating in his high-ball glass. He sat down heavily in the free chair across from where Julian sat. Scrubbing a hand over his face in his signature gesture of frustration, Ryu turned to the barghest.

  “Please, Anyan. Please tell us what the fuck just happened. And how the fuck I'm going to explain any of this to Orin and Morrigan without them taking a strip out of both our hides?”

  I studied the folder Anyan had passed to me as the boys argued. Basically, Ryu thought it was a really big deal that a brownie had popped in here moments ago. Anyan disagreed. No one had cared that much when the brownies had disappeared, so why would people care about their reappearance?

  “You've always taken your position for granted, Anyan, as if you're untouchable—”

  “And you care too much about what everyone thinks, Investigator…”

  I shook my head, tuned the two men out, and opened the folder.

  Besides what was written as part of the report, there was a sticky note to Anyan, signed “Capitola,” at the beginning of the folder. I knew I was being nosy, but I couldn't help it. The note read, “This is all we could find. There is magic involved, but other than that we're as clueless as the human police. Good luck and keep in touch. We miss you. ”

  I wondered about Capitola, and if she and the barghest were lovers. Then I wondered where that thought had come from as I flipped through the rest of the folder.

  Whoever she was, Capitola and her team had done a thorough job. Each of our names had been checked out. Some were duds; the crime scenes and/or the bodies had not had any signs of magic on or around them. They'd died of normal fire, not magical fire.

  A few, however, were different. Those victims had some indication of magic on or around them and their crime scenes. She wrote that even underground, in a coffin, one had stunk so powerfully of magic that you could feel it from the gates of the cemetery.

  She also wrote that they were doing their own investigating, trying to find more recent deaths so that they could get their hands on an actual body. If she found anything, she'd be in touch by brownie.

  I passed the file to Julian and then turned back to Ryu and Anyan.

  “ What could have induced them to leave the Alfar and go to the Borderlands? That's my question,” Ryu sniped.

  “It's not about some powerful force seducing the brownies away, Ryu. They just got tired of being servants. ”

  “Brownies like serving. That's what they do. ”

  “Yes, but that doesn't mean they should be taken for granted or exploited…”

  I sighed, watching them bicker. Now was not the time. So I said so.

  “What?” they both said, turning to me.

  “Now is not the time, guys. After we've found the women, then you can hash all of this out. ” I kept my voice soft, but firm. They'd never know that what I really wanted to do was throw the wet towel I'd set at my feet directly into their faces.

  Before Ryu could start arguing with me, I asked what they'd found at Edie's apartment.

  “Nothing,” Camille said, stepping forward. She was obviously as ready to get back to work as I was. “The apartment was empty and untouched. It did look as if someone had left in a hurry, and there seemed to be luggage missing. ”

  “Is she just on vacation?” I asked. “Or on sabbatical or something?” Everyone looked at me and then at Julian, who nodded obligingly as he started typing on his laptop.

  “Nope, she's scheduled for classes right now. But it does say she's taken a leave of absence. ”

  “So, let's go to her office. See what we can find,” I suggested.

  Camille nodded. Julian told us he had the address. We all stood up to go, after figuring out who was riding with whom and whether anybody needed to call Phaedra.

  In the meantime, I wondered when I'd become someone who made decisions.

  And why it felt so good.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  An hour later we were standing next to Harvard Yard, near the T-stop at the Pit, waiting for Phaedra and her harpies. Apparently, she did want in on this action.

  When the Alfar finally showed up, the harpies had their wings wrapped around them like sarongs. I would have thought them beautiful, but for the company they kept. And speaking of company, luckily Graeme and Fugwat were not in attendance.

  As for our recent encounter with the First Magics, we'd already decided that Phaedra didn't need to know about the brownie, or the murders in Chicago, until more solid connections were made. We didn't trust her, and we didn't need her help. We just wanted to keep her and her entourage where we could see them; anything more could be dealt with as it became necessary.

  The barghest herded everyone down Mass. Ave. toward the address we had for Edie's office. She was in one of the main buildings right off Harvard Yard, and walking through the campus was very impressive. The redbrick buildings gleamed in the night air, gently lit backdrops to the huge swathe of grass that was the yard. Cobblestone and
concrete spirit paths crisscrossed the winter-dead lawn, ushering students from building to building. It was such a peaceful, pristine facade that I could almost believe Harvard's aura of impermeability could protect whoever lived there.

  Almost.

  When we got to the office, I stayed in back with Julian as everyone else trooped up the stairs. They did some very professional-looking fanning-out thing, with mage balls at the ready. I felt like I was in a movie for just a second, until the door clicked open and, once again, nothing happened.

  I was beginning to realize that investigating crime actually consisted of a lot of hurrying up and waiting, coupled with hours of sitting and doing research.

  Except for when you get stabbed through the hand, Jane, my brain reminded me drily. So stop looking for excitement.

  Edie's office was very empty and very neat. And very large. There were two rooms: one a sort of lounge where she could meet with students. Tons of books lined the walls, housed in floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and there was a little seating area complete with a sofa, a love seat, and a pair of wingback leather chairs, all set around a lovely claw-footed, graceful-legged coffee table. Next to the reception area was an office. It was slightly more cluttered, with two desks covered in papers and books. The towering bookcases were full in this room as well.