Mercenary

by Jennifer Blackstream

  Vincent recoiled, scowling. “This is not the introduction I had in mind.”

  “Vincent?” I said carefully. “What’s going on?”

  The wizard sighed and pushed a hand through his mop of unruly brown hair. “Bizbee worked for a friend of mine who recently passed away—natural causes, he was four hundred and eighty six. He left me in charge of his estate, and so Bizbee came to me.” He shifted uncomfortably and lowered his voice. “He’s a whiz at organization, truly unrivaled. But unfortunately, he has a ghastly relationship with Maggie, and I simply can’t have them both under the same roof.”

  “Maggie?” I echoed.

  “The brownie who cleans for me. She’s been with me for over a hundred years, she’s practically family.” He winced. “They disagree on how the house should be ordered.”

  “Don’t be sayin’ that name in my presence!” Bizbee hollered. “That old biddy wouldn’t know how to alphabetize if the letters were tattooed across her enormous—”

  “Anyway,” Vincent interrupted. “I wanted to introduce the two of you. I thought he might be able to help with your…” He trailed off.

  I stared at him, then down at my pouch. My eyes narrowed, and I took a deep breath before trusting myself to speak. “Vincent, I have a pixie. And a cursed kitten. And more recently, I seem to have been adopted by a very large, very stoic cat sith.” I leaned closer, letting a little of my rising anxiety leech into my voice. “Why in the name of the gods would you think I needed another…”

  I didn’t know what to call him. Bizbee was a person, not a pet.

  Vincent stared at me. “A cat sith? Where in the gods did you pick up a cat sith? You’re not a druid.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” I warned.

  “Give him twenty-four hours,” Vincent pleaded. “I would not have introduced you two if I wasn’t so terribly certain this would work. Twenty-four hours, that’s all I ask. Try.”

  I sighed. “Fine. Twenty-four hours.”

  “Splendid.” He reached into his other pocket. “I have your DNA results.” He lowered his voice, speaking in the hushed tone people reserved for talking about a deceased loved one. “The hoof belonged to Stasya. I’m sorry.”

  I took the paper, barely giving the printout a glance. I’d known it would be Stasya’s. Still, I was sorry to hear it confirmed. “I’ll need to tell the ifrits.” I shifted uneasily. “And Arianne.”

  “That’s not all. Liam went back to Acme after he took you home. He found blood outside.” Vincent’s face grew more serious. “A lot of blood. I tested that as well. The name that matched the sample was Jeffrey Carter.”

  “My client Roger Templeton’s best friend.” I slumped back on the bench and raised my coffee for a long gulp of caffeine. “More bad news.”

  “You still think Ian Walsh is responsible for Stasya’s death?”

  I nodded. “I can’t think of a reason the others would want her dead. The ifrits brought her here, they wanted her here. It was only Underhill that had something to gain from her death by torturing her for information and depriving Scoria of an operative.”

  “Well, perhaps you should wait for Liam before you confront him,” Vincent suggested. “The sidhe are such bloodthirsty bastards, I wouldn’t trust one as far as Sergeant Osbourne could throw him. And I can tell you from experience, that’s very far.” He hesitated. “There was another blood sample as well.”

  “Oh, blood and bone! You mean there’s another victim?”

  “I wouldn’t use the word ‘victim,’ no. The other blood sample came from a baobhan sidhe.”

  Baobhan sidhe. I stared into space, my mind flooded with images. Baobhan sidhe were a deadly mix of sidhe and vampire. Pale and beautiful, with hair the color of the blood they drank, the baobhan sidhe delighted in torture and dismemberment. They had a rare gift related to clairvoyance that allowed them to glimpse their victim’s memories when they drank their blood. Most often, the baobhan sidhe used that ability for fun, bathing in the blood of their victims and licking it off their flesh like cats as they lived flashes of memory that weren’t their own. Others hired themselves out as interrogators, tasting their victim’s blood in a search for specific information.

  On a particularly gruesome note, their skin was covered in fine hairs that stood up like tiny needles when they wanted to feed. This allowed them to embrace their victims and draw their blood in large swathes of skin. It wasn’t a sight I wanted to see again.

  “I already have a meeting scheduled with Ian,” I said finally shoving old memories aside. “And Liam said he had work to do this morning, so unfortunately, he can’t join me, yet.”

  Vincent tilted his head. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but you don’t sound like you regret Liam’s unavailability. Is there a reason you prefer to meet with the sidhe alone?”

  I hesitated. “I’m afraid my relationship with Liam may not be the most conducive to working together. He doesn’t trust me, and he hasn’t made much of an attempt to hide it.” I toyed with the zipper of my waist pouch. “He always acts like I’m lying about what I am, or where I’ve been. Always sniffing me,” I added under my breath.

  The wizard winced. “Ah, yes, the sniffing. I remember that all too well. Very awkward, but it won’t last forever. Well, he won’t do it as often.”

  I stared at him. “He sniffs you too?”

  Vincent shrugged. “You’ll find it’s a characteristic of most shifters, at least with the wolves and cat shifters I’ve met. When confronted with a magic user they don’t trust implicitly, they tend to err on the side of being ready for an attack. For them, that means being very close, and monitoring the magic user’s physical responses.” He waved a hand. “Hence the sniffing.”

  “So he doesn’t trust me, and he’s making sure he stands close enough to attack me before I can use magic against him.” That particular revelation felt like a punch to the gut, and I slumped back in my seat. Gods, I was tired.

  “You can’t expect him to trust you after so short a time,” Vincent said, his expression stern. “He is the alpha of his pack. They rely on him for their safety and protection. He takes that responsibility very seriously.” His hand twitched as if he were resisting the urge to pat my leg in comfort.

  I reached into the pouch, groping for a can of Coke. A cold can met my probing fingers as soon as I reached inside, and I withdrew it to find a lavender Post-it on it that read Whiskey substitute.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, cracking open the can.

  A grunt of acknowledgment came from the pouch.

  Vincent watched me for a minute, then straightened in his seat. “When I first met Detective Sergeant Osbourne, I’d been hired by the city to process a crime scene—mundane, nothing Otherworldly about it. He treated me then much the way he treats you now.”

  “No respect for personal space, lots of sniffing?”

  Vincent sighed. “Indeed. And it is unsettling, I’ll give you that. I worked with him on several cases, all mundane. We developed a respectful working relationship, and he grew more comfortable with me. Then suddenly he treated me with suspicion. As if our rapport had vanished, and we were strangers again.”

  “More sniffing and invading of personal space?”

  “Yes. At first I took offense. I thought perhaps he suspected me of something untoward.”

  “And did he?”

  Vincent shook his head. “It was right after that he hired me to work my first scene with the Wild Animal Task Force. That was when I became a part of his team, someone he trusted to invite into his investigations not by assignment, but by request.”

  I turned the almost empty can of soda in my grasp. “I appreciate the attempt to put a positive spin on his actions. But he hasn’t trusted me from the moment he met me, and I don’t believe that’s changed.” I probed the edge of the can with one finger, debating how much to share with Vincent. “I keep leaning on him,” I admitted.

  “Leaning on him?”

  I frowned, trying to th
ink of a way to put it that wouldn’t make it sound worse than it was. “I can feel his energy like this constant hum, a sort of cozy, buzzy feeling. There’s just something about it that sucks me in, and before I know it, I’m touching him. Leaning on him while we’re talking.” I huffed out a breath. “It’s really very awkward.”

  “Indeed.” Vincent shifted uncomfortably. “Is this an attraction…?”

  I scowled and finished off the soda before crushing the can in my grip. “No. Honestly, I find him off-putting. And bossy.”

  “He is that,” Vincent agreed. He paused, then added, “Bossy, I mean.”

  “Well, he’s very keen to know why I do it—the leaning on him thing—and that’s a question I can’t answer. Something tells me that until I can answer that question to his satisfaction, he’s not going to trust me.”

  Vincent considered that, drumming his fingers on his thigh, bushy eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Do you have any shifter blood?”

  “No. My parents were both human.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Yes. Though my sister—”

  I froze, then snapped my mouth shut. This was not a conversation I’d planned on having. I liked Vincent, but we weren’t so close that I wanted to discuss my embarrassing shifter-related proclivities with him. And I certainly never intended to discuss my sister. I stared at Echo’s statue, the green shine on the statue’s eyes.

  The runes.

  “Blood and bone,” I muttered, shoving myself to sit more upright on the bench. “Caught by my own magic.”

  Vincent followed my glare to the statue. His eyebrows rose. “Oh. Oh, I see.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I should be going. Call me tomorrow, and tell me how you’re getting on with Bizbee?”

  I glanced down at the pouch, then met his eyes again. “Oh, I will.”

  Vincent waved goodbye, and I settled back to wait for Peasblossom. While I waited, I thought about what Vincent had said about Liam. I stood by what I’d told him, that Liam had never stopped suspecting me of something untoward. Still, I did feel a little better knowing that it wasn’t just me. And the wizard was right, as an alpha, Liam would be more suspicious than most people. His pack depended on him. Add that to the fact he was a cop, then it was little wonder he didn’t give me the benefit of the doubt.

  “Oh, just take it!” Bizbee said, his voice thick with exasperation.

  I blinked and stared down at the bottle of aloe poking out of my waist pouch. “What?”

  He waggled the bottle of green gel at me. “The sunburn. I assume that’s why yer squirmin’ around like a worm on a hook? Just slather it on and be done with it, I cannae take all the fidgetin’.”

  I narrowed my eyes, but took the aloe. The burn was throbbing again, so it was time for another application anyway. Still, I made a mental note to keep an eye on the grig’s bossiness. I didn’t need another wee one shouting demands at me all the time.

  As if summoned by that thought, Peasblossom dove out of the air like a shard of pink hail, landing with unnecessary force on my shoulder.

  “Ow!” I shouted.

  My outburst startled Peasblossom, and she tumbled off my shoulder—

  —and into the pouch.

  “Ahhh!”

  An angry shout in Gaelic followed her shriek of surprise and I groaned. This was not how I’d wanted them to meet.

  “Shade, there’s someone in here! Get back, or I’ll have your fuzzy little bobs!”

  “Peasblossom, no!”

  I opened the pouch and shoved a hand in, groping around for my agitated familiar. I got a cocktail sword to the hand for my trouble, and I pulled the outraged pixie free with my left hand and glared at the puncture wound in the palm of my right.

  “Put me back, I have him right where I want him!”

  “Peasblossom, he’s a friend. He’s going to stay with us for awhile. At least until tomorrow,” I added.

  “It’ll take me longer than that to get this sorted,” Bizbee scoffed. “Lucky if I’m done in twenty-four years, state this place is in.”

  I didn’t argue, instead concentrating on Peasblossom’s wide eyes. “His name is Bizbee, and Vincent brought him to help get things organized. He’s our guest, and we’re to make him feel welcome.”

  “You… You adopted another fey?” Peasblossom’s voice had dropped to a dangerous tone, and her pink eyes glittered in a way that made her look far more alien than usual.

  I put her down in my left palm and held her up so I could meet her eyes. “He lost his friend, Peasblossom,” I said gently. “He needs a home. I don’t know how long he’ll stay with us, but I promised Vincent we’d try.”

  Peasblossom hesitated. “He doesn’t have another home?”

  “No. And maybe we won’t be the right fit, but we have to try. All right?”

  Peasblossom sighed and let her sword sag in her grip. “Oh, fine. We’re all ready turning into a circus, why not add a bug.”

  “Bug?” Bizbee popped his head out of the pouch, narrowing his eyes at Peasblossom. “Did that wee lass just call me a bug?”

  Peasblossom opened her mouth, but I spoke quickly before she could. “It’s funny you mentioned a circus. Echo told me that Ian hires a wizard from a racino on the east side. Apparently, his crew hides under the guise of a sideshow.”

  “That’s the least of your worries,” Peasblossom said grimly. “We have bigger problems.”

  My heart sank and I leaned against the back of the warm metal bench, the bottle of aloe forgotten beside me. “What?”

  “Word around the city is someone shot a baobhan sidhe at the National Acme Building.”

  “So the blood Liam found is related to our crime scene.” I scooted forward on the bench. “Vincent said he found blood from a baobhan sidhe. Did any of your contacts see what happened?”

  Peasblossom nodded. “Lilac was outside when it happened. She said a man started screaming and running away from the building. Then a baobhan sidhe ran out of the building after him, but before he could drag him inside, someone shot him.”

  “That must have been Roger.” I slid back on the bench again, needing the support against my spine. “You’re telling me,” I said slowly, “that Roger saw a baobhan sidhe at the murder scene, and Jeff shot it?”

  “Shot, but didn’t kill him. And now he’s out for blood.” She shivered. “And he’s going to want all of it.”

  Chapter 13

  Flint was having the car fixed by a half-gremlin he knew who was available for body work on short notice, so for the moment I was sans vehicle. Fortunately, Cleveland was full of cabs, so I had no problem flagging one down to take me to Goodfellows. On the way there, I caught Peasblossom up on what I’d learned from Echo and Vincent.

  “Vincent was right, you know,” Peasblossom said against my neck. “You should have backup, just in case. If the baobhan sidhe were working for Ian, he’s not going to like you knowing about it.”

  “We’re meeting on neutral ground,” I said, under my breath so the cab driver didn’t hear me talking to myself. “And I have a backup plan.” I unzipped the pouch at my waist. “Bizbee?”

  “I’m busy. And will be for the next century or so, given this mess.”

  I took a deep breath and counted to ten. “If you wouldn’t mind giving me a moment of your time?”

  The grig heaved a long-suffering sigh. “What is it, then?”

  “I want you to take this cell phone. If an hour passes and I haven’t checked in with you to tell you everything is fine, I want you to call Liam and tell him what happened.”

  Bizbee stared up at me, his fuzzy eyebrows knitted together in disapproval as he accepted the cell phone. “And how will I know what’s happened?” he demanded. “Are ye expectin’ me to stay up top here, peering out like some peepin’ Tom?”

  “Please, Bizbee?” I asked. “Ian knows about Peasblossom, he’ll be suspicious if she stays out of sight. I need him to be confident he can stop me no matter what I know.”
/>   “Did you say something?” the driver asked. He pushed back the ball cap covering the curliest red hair I’d ever seen and stared at me in the rearview mirror.

  I smiled at him. “Sorry, I was on my phone.” I pointed to my empty ear. “Bluetooth.”

  The driver nodded his acceptance of my excuse and returned his attention to the road. I waited until he seemed intent on navigating a stretch of particularly thick construction, then looked down into the pouch again. “So, will you do it?”

  The grig snorted and peeled off a pale blue Post-it. “I’m not yer secretary.”

  I watched him write down “cell phone” on the Post-it and stick it to the back of my phone. Then I had an idea. “If you do this for me, we’ll swing by an office supply store.”

  The grig’s face didn’t betray his thoughts—but his antennae did. The fuzzy tufts at the tips bounced as his antennae straightened with interest. “I’ll make the call should it be necessary.” He raised his eyes to mine. “I’ll have a shopping list ready.”

  I smiled. I liked the office supply store too, so this worked out well. “Deal.”

  “Now can we go inside?” Peasblossom demanded. “We’ve stopped and I’m hungry!”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, don’t think I’ll believe for one second that you didn’t eat some of that honey I gave you for your army,” I said, exasperated. I gave the cab driver an apologetic smile, pointing to my ear again for good measure, and paid him before getting out of the cab. He shook his head as he drove away, muttering something about technology.

  “I didn’t eat all the honey,” Peasblossom insisted.

  I shook my head, but amicably headed into the cafe. My good mood wilted as the door closed behind me, and though I waited, I didn’t feel the usual sense of contentment I usually did when coming here.

  Ian was already here.

  The sidhe stuck out in the casual dining restaurant like a unicorn in a herd of camels. His pale grey suit was too expensive to wrinkle, and there was a piercing quality to his gaze as he surveyed the other patrons. It put me in mind of a crocodile basking in a warm river, idly watching zebras drinking at the water’s edge.