by R. J. Blain
“I really meant that he’d just fall over dead in a month or two after the disease progresses because he wouldn’t be able to get the right grade of neutralizer to cure it.”
“Unless he was behind the warehouse raid and had the neutralizer available,” my husband replied.
“Which would make him complicit in a major felony theft and manipulating law enforcement through the 120 Wall Street incident.” I copy-pasted that from my wishlist, too.
“Next item?”
“Noodles topped with sea bugs with some form of cream sauce for dinner. I really like sea bugs and believe we should find another restaurant tonight that will serve me sea bugs.”
“If you want noodles topped with sea bugs, we shall look for noodles topped with sea bugs. Just don’t forget to eat your other sea bug sandwiches before we quest for more sea bugs.”
“You should eat your share of the sea bug sandwiches. And have some fries.”
“I’m not feeding three, and it seems fair for the twins to get a sea bug roll each.”
“Do I get to use that claim when I feel like overeating like some glutton?”
“Considering how infrequently you allow yourself to overeat like some glutton? Yes. Please. You have a horribly difficult time gaining weight, and you need to be packing on some extra healthy pounds right now. You know that pregnancy weight a lot of women complain about after the delivery?”
“I’m concerned for my back and feet,” I admitted.
“With your metabolism, if I feed you salads for a week and ask you to keep up with me, you’ll have lost all of that weight plus ten extra pounds.”
“I’m a freak.”
“You’re a cindercorn, and I’ve been feeding you like you’re a human woman. All shapeshifters have heightened metabolisms.”
“Except you!”
“I do have a heightened metabolism, Bailey. I’m just feeding really well just about every night several times over.”
Right. Gorgon-incubus doohickeys had specialized diets of delicious tasty woman, and I was on the menu most nights. Whee! “I’ll have to exercise you extra to make sure you don’t gain excess weight.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. So, after your noodles with sea bugs, what else is on your list?”
“All of my co-workers abandoned me the day Magnus McGee delivered that cell phone bomb filled with pixie dust. We should check if Morrison was involved, as we do know his sister was the one who gave him the bomb and ultimately murdered him because he refused to participate in her games.”
“Add it to the other list.”
“These are supposed to be pipe dream additions, Sam!”
“I’m going to have to make sure you give me both of your lists on all future investigations, because these ideas are the exact kind we need when we’re working on identifying a culprit or a motive. Thinking inside of the box is important at times, but creativity is also needed to go along with the understanding that we can’t use sane logic on the insane.”
“Oh. I was using insane logic on this list.”
“And one of the main culprits? Insane. Keep going. Your ideas are good.”
“My co-workers, though?”
“If the goal was to infect you with gorgon dust, and Morrison was somehow linked to their inability to show up to work, then he is an accomplice in the gorgon dust bombing of your apartment. That is considered to be a terrorism event, as it was targeting someone who lived in an apartment complex and is a highly certified government contractor. Well, it could be flagged as terrorism, attempted murder, disruption of the peace, destruction of personal property, and a slew of other misdemeanors with a few felonies added in for good measure. As the dust found in your apartment matched 120 Wall Street, that would link Morrison to 120 Wall Street—and potentially make your former co-workers important witnesses. If anyone was hurt preventing them from going to work, then they’re owed restitution from Morrison, too.”
“This is excessively complicated.”
“The cases I’m brought into usually are—otherwise, the detectives would have already handled everything. This would have been bumped to my desk if I hadn’t become involved in other fashions. As it is, we’re going to be severely scolded by the commissioner for using our vacation time to creatively put ourselves where we might find clues. He’s going to see right through my ploy, but because we have receipts for these locations, he won’t call me out on it—and even if he does, I’d just honestly claim I had wanted to close the book on that part of my life. Closure is important to him. He became a cop because his family never got closure on the murder of his uncle.”
“That’s sad.”
“It is. That case is still open, and it’s in our jurisdiction, so I’ll leave the file out on your desk during a slow week so you can start poking your nose into it. He can’t afford a wayfinder, and his uncle’s body was never found.”
“How does he know he was murdered, then?”
My husband smiled. “That is an assumption—one founded on his knowledge of his uncle, how much he cared for his family, and other factors. Nobody in the family believes that his uncle would have just left them.”
“But amnesia could have happened.”
“And that’s exactly why that’s some serious lack of closure for them. What if his uncle is still alive? Why did he leave? It’s a nagging mystery that hurts his family every time the holidays roll around. So, I’ll leave the file on your desk along with everything we have on the Dowry case, and we’ll go from there.”
“And if we don’t like what we find?”
“That’s sometimes one of the hardest parts of our job, Bailey. We often don’t like what we find. But we’ll decide then. Even the stories with an unhappy ending end that way for a reason… and sometimes, we give the families just enough for them to get some closure without the full story ever coming to light. It depends.”
“But what if he was murdered?”
“Then we bring the killer to justice and give him closure that way.”
“And if he ran away?”
“We find out why—and we get justice for him. Men like that don’t run without a reason.”
I nodded, and I retrieved the next sea bug roll out of the carry out box so it could fall victim to my anxiety and my hunger. “And if he was involved with an accident and has amnesia or something like that?”
“We involve his family and do what’s best for everybody. That one is hard, because if he’s having a great life now, it’ll be tough to meld his old and his new life together, but it can be done. That’s what therapists are for.”
“Hey, Quinn?”
“Yes?”
“What do you mean he can’t afford a wayfinder? Am I not a good enough wayfinder for him? He thinks I can do this cop thing, but I can’t wayfind? I can do it, and I can do it better. And cheaper, since I’m not an asshole enough to charge him for having the magical equivalent of a temper tantrum while looking for something.”
My husband laughed. “One disaster at a time, Bailey. One disaster at a time. If you want to help him find his uncle, I’m certainly not going to stop you, but I will set some ground rules for the investigation.”
“I mean, we have a map in the back, and I’m pretty sure I saw you bring my junk for this. It’d take like five minutes. I’m fueled! Pull over.”
“You want to do this now?”
“Well, why not? I can ask if he’s dead, alive, or in danger, and get where he’s at.”
“Wait, you can ask?”
“It’s usually yes or no questions.” I hesitated. “You know those marbles from my apartment?”
“Yes. They’re very similar to the ones in with your other wayfinding stuff. I brought them, as it would be a tragedy if you were to lose what’s left of your marbles.”
Oh. I giggled. “I’m going to feel that one for days.”
“You really shouldn’t be excited when I do that. It encourages me to keep doing it.”
“But it was a good one. Do
it again. See, I’m encouraging you to keep doing it, so you should keep doing it. You aren’t pulling over yet. I can’t do my wayfinder trick without my stuff, which is in the back. The very back.”
“I’m not against looking into his uncle, but I am going to insist we wait until after we deal with Kennebago and Long Lake. That way, if you get a trail, we can act. Ideally, we would do this when we’re in a position to have someone watch over the pets, as we can run as unicorns. Also, as you yourself say your wayfinding is a creator of disasters, we are not creating additional disasters to go with our current disaster. We are at maximum disaster capacity right now.”
“It’ll only be a little bit of a disaster. Come on. It’ll be an adventure.”
“We’re already on an adventure.”
“It’ll be an adventure within our current adventure.”
“I’m not sure we can handle our current adventure as it is. Please be sensible, Bailey.”
Me? Sensible? I hoped impending fatherhood hadn’t done irreversible damage to my husband. “Sam, why are you asking the impossible of me?”
“Oh, right. I guess asking you to be sensible was a little rough. I’m sorry. Try to be patient. You can use your wayfinder tricks to your heart’s content as soon as we’re done with this nasty business in Kennebago and Long Lake.”
“Or I can just use my wayfinder trick to find the source of this mess and skip Kennebago and Long Lake?”
“Your father went through all of that work to arrange Long Lake, and it would be really rude of us to steal his thunder, especially since he’s trying so hard to be the cool dad for you. We should go to Kennebago and Long Lake. If our date with disaster is a no show in Long Lake, then you can steal your father’s thunder and find the culprits that way. For now, let your father satisfy himself. The last thing we need is a divine who just found out he’s a father snapping because his daughter got herself in trouble again.”
“No take backs!”
My husband sighed. “No take backs. Just try to be somewhat reasonable should we need to use your wayfinder magic, okay?”
“So, when did the commissioner’s uncle disappear, anyway?”
“Huh. Good question. It happened before I joined the force, so at this point in time, it’s really unlikely you’ll be able to find any good news. I’d have to dig out the file and read it over. That case has been considered dead in the water for a while.”
I devoured the rest of my sea bug sandwich, rescued the final one from the container, and debated how best to separate it so my husband could have his share.
“Just eat the whole thing, babe. If you’re that hungry, I’m sure I can stop and forage should I become peckish.”
“I’m eating my feelings,” I admitted. “They’re frustrated, hungry feelings.”
“Eat the sandwich, my beautiful. You need the extra calories. If you start gaining excess weight, then you can worry about nibbling on those salads you’re convinced will rise up and get you.”
“Well, if my salads had more sea bugs on them, I’d probably eat salad willingly more often.”
“You’re going to make me learn how to cook fish, aren’t you?”
“You can use other types of sea bugs on salad, too.”
“I demand evidence of this.”
I laughed. “You just want to explore more sea bug options, now that you know they’re open to you.”
“I really do.”
Seventeen
You really are the reason you don’t get enough sleep.
We needed to use my wayfinder magic in order to locate the ‘resort’ Audrey had visited once upon a time. In the past few years, nature had done an excellent job of erasing the trail. The snow was deep enough Avalanche couldn’t navigate through its depths without disappearing, so my husband carried her while I transformed and made the journey as a cindercorn. Sunny and Blizzard bounded through the drifts, and for the first time since we’d started our trip, Sam let them off their leashes.
“Is that good idea?” I stared at Blizzard, who romped after Sunny.
I gave it five minutes before I needed to chase down my runaway pets.
“Sunny will keep Blizzard around, and Sunny won’t abandon you. And if I’m wrong, I’ll put on my fur coat and help you track them down.”
“Such a nice stallion. Yes, put on fur coat. I like stallion.”
“Tiffany’s right. You really are the reason you don’t get enough sleep,” he teased.
I flicked my tail. “Fur coat?”
“Maybe later. Work first, indulgences after work and we have someone to watch the pets and kids. You may have to survive, sadly, for a while.”
I could do sadly. “So much sadness.”
Chuckling, my husband stomped through the snow, cradling Avalanche close while the ocelot snuggled against him. I kept an eye on our puppies, who bounded through the trees and ran back to us before running off again like furry lunatics. “Puppies so much fun.”
“They really are. Your kitten is a little spoiled, too. She has decided it is nap time, and that I am present only to serve as her bed.”
According to my husband’s tone, there was nothing better than him being present only to serve as the ocelot’s bed. “You love kitty! But my kitty. You tool of kitty, so you prop-er-tee. You best prop-er-tee.”
Quinn chuckled. “I have no problems with being your property, especially as this means you’re also my property, and I enjoy our joint property arrangements. And if you don’t think you’re my property, I will implement particularly intensive corrective therapy techniques tonight to reinforce my claim.”
“Okay. You do that. After noo-dles with sea bugs. Need those or might perish from sadness.”
“As I can’t have my wife perishing from sadness, I will do my best to get you noodles with sea bugs tonight.”
I pranced in place and waited for Quinn to pick his way over the trail, following the glimmering path I’d created to guide us to our destination. Snow began to fall, and I dined on fallen trees to keep my heat levels up, although it didn’t take much to snort blue flame. “Tiny terrors make me hot,” I announced.
“Did you just call our children tiny terrors?”
“I snort blue flame with no effort. This is thing of true fear, terror for those who annoy me! They are the creators of blue flame. They tiny terrors. Very tiny right now. Do I get extra bite from Francisco for calling them tiny terrors?”
“Sure.”
“Tiny terrors much trouble. Think we find some-thing here?”
“I hope we find something, else I’ll have gotten a lot of exercise for nothing.”
“Pets happy, not for nothing. They have much fun. This snow? This snow is fun! Only fun because tiny terrors. Usually not fun.”
“I am grateful the tiny terrors turn you into a cold-loving cindercorn rather than a miserable one.”
“Much misery without tiny terrors.”
“I hope the sea bug populations can handle you and our tiny terrors.”
“Me, too. No sea bugs would be sadness.”
My magic led us deep into the woods to a clearing with several run-down buildings. Years of abandonment hadn’t done the place any favors, although the structures seemed sound enough except for the roof of one of the smaller buildings, which had begun caving in. “That building no safe.”
“We’ll have to be careful when we check around that one, yes. It looks like your trail is going inside the main building.”
I followed after my magic, which had gone for the route of least resistance, entering through a broken window, one too small for my mass. “Put kitten on back, I stand still, you go inside and open door like good Queeny should. Open door for lady.”
“What lady?” my husband asked, although he did as asked, placing Avalanche on my back. The ocelot stretched, nestled into my thick fur, and resumed her nap.
“Best burn. So many burns today. Not sure how I will recover. You must help me tonight with recovery.”
“We�
�ll see.” Smirking, he climbed through the broken window. The instant he made it inside, my magical trail disappeared. He headed to the front door, and careful not to dislodge my furry passenger, I followed. After a few minutes and some cursing, he opened it.
“The lock is rusted and the hinges were stuck,” he announced, shouldering the door fully open so I could walk inside. “We’ll have to detox.”
“Gorgons?” I asked.
“They didn’t even bother trying to hide it in this one. We’ll need a scanner. I’m going to take the pets to the SUV and call the CDC. They left me with a meter, and it can scan the dust types, so if this is the original dust sample, we’ll know about twenty minutes after I start processing it. Alan showed me how to do the test early. He seems to think you are the queen of finding trouble.”
“I am the queen of finding trouble. I found you.”
He gave me a round of applause. “That was well done. Soon enough, I will have you trained to do that intentionally more often than blurting things when you’re nervous.”
“Clever boy,” I praised, stepping into the battered bed and breakfast.
Sunny halted at the threshold, barked twice, sat down, and barked three times.
“Oh, get rabies and dust. Sunny best puppy. Sam no go in. Out, out. Go get scanner. Only need one rabid person. Take kitten. We treat all pets tonight. No dust on pets.”
Quinn scooped Avalanche off my back, leashed both of our puppies, and headed for the SUV. To make sure he didn’t get lost, I gave a soft snort and stomped my hoof.
A pink, shimmering trail appeared, leading off in the direction of our rental.
“Good magic.”
The entry seemed normal enough, and I followed Quinn’s snowy footprints to get a better feel for what had unnerved him. I passed through a short hallway to a large, rustic sitting room, one meant to entertain many people.
Rather than entertained people, decaying barrels rested on the floor while the desiccated bodies of male gorgons hung from the rafters, dust trickling off their bodies to pool over the floor. A shimmering barrier kept the dust to one half of the room, although it, too, eroded from time.
