Mercenary

by Jennifer Blackstream

  “Only Aaban seemed to think his company was different,” I pointed out. “Based on ideals, not money.”

  Ian took a sip of his tea. “Which seems to exemplify my concerns for his company’s future rather nicely. Aaban has a grand vision of the future, but I don’t believe he’ll find what he’s looking for.” His grip on his cup tightened. “And I shudder to think of his reaction to what he does find.”

  He put his tea down and folded his hands. “I don’t have all the answers—yet. Maybe Aaban is innocent, perhaps everything that has happened is unrelated.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” I said firmly.

  “Neither do I. In which case, I must point out that once one piece of evidence is found to be falsified, it is exponentially easier to get the rest of the evidence dismissed as well. If you believed the fire elemental was an ifrit, only to discover later that it was not…”

  “Then it would seem like someone was trying to frame the ifrits, and future evidence would be treated with suspicion as well,” I finished. He had a point. I bit the inside of my cheek, then took another sip of tea. I needed to go to the fight club and see if I could find someone to back up Ian’s story. Someone who heard Stasya talking about a fight with Charbel, or her anger with Aaban, or her change in employment. I stood up from my seat and faced Ian. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to forgo lunch. It seems I have a lot to do.”

  “Remember my warning,” Ian said. “You are involved in a situation more dangerous than you realize.”

  Something about the way he said it made me think he didn’t believe I’d survive to find my answers.

  “If you’ll forgive me one more moment of boldness?” he asked.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Yes?”

  “Flint is more dangerous that he’s given credit for. I realize you’re in a tenuous position, and you are limited in your freedom to refuse him. But do not let him into your confidence. I promise you, he does not deserve it.”

  I forced a smile. “I know a snake when I see one.”

  Ian arched an eyebrow. “There is a reason no one’s killed him yet. His powers of seduction go beyond the physical. And you won’t know he’s doing it until it’s too late.”

  “Thanks for the warning. Both of them.”

  I left money on the table for my tea, Peasblossom’s honey, and Alexandra’s tip, then pried Peasblossom from the sticky bowl of honey and left the cafe. My mind churned with a thousand new thoughts as I left the cafe, and I let them simmer as I unzipped my waist pouch. “Bizbee, I’m fine. Everything went well.”

  A pink Post-it popped out of the pouch, gripped in a tiny fist. I blinked and took it, squinting at the small handwriting. “Post-its, multiple colors, pens, also multiple colors… Washi tape?” I shrugged, then nodded. “All reasonable. But we’ll have to make our shopping trip after we settle this case.”

  “Sure, she tells me after I’ve gone out of my way to help,” Bizbee grumbled. “never mind I’m in here workin’ me fingers to the bone to organize this…this… Well, there’s not a word for it, is there?”

  I opened my mouth to apologize, then stopped myself. That was not the tone I wanted to set for this relationship. “I said we would go, and we will. When I have time. Now please hand me a wet wipe. I have a honey-coated pixie out here.”

  “Get it yerself.”

  I shrugged. “How about I just drop Peasblossom in there and let her root around for it?” I held Peasblossom over the open pouch. I’d half expected her to protest, but she seemed delighted to torment the grig, and even held out her honey coated hand so a blob of the sugary goo sagged precariously from her palm.

  Bizbee said something in Gaelic that I didn’t quite catch, and a packet of wet wipes flew out of the pouch, complete with a yellow Post-it declaring them to be wet tissues.

  I grabbed my phone out of the pouch, noting the blinking green light that meant I had a notification.

  “I bet a pot of honey that’s a call from Liam,” Peasblossom guessed.

  “A text, but yes. He wants to meet.” I smiled. “Fortunately, I think he’s just who we need to escort us to our next destination.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  I jumped and almost dropped my phone mid-text. Less than ten feet away, Liam rolled up the window of his truck before getting out and shutting the door behind him. Today he was wearing a navy blue button down shirt—sleeves rolled up to the elbows, of course—and a worn pair of blue jeans. My mind taunted me with one of last night’s images of half-naked Liam, and I blinked twice to make it go away.

  “Shade,” Peasblossom whispered. She grabbed my ear and leaned in. “You’re staring.”

  “I’m not staring,” I lied. I scowled and shook my head. “Sorry, you caught me mid-thought.”

  Peasblossom snorted, but I ignored her. He’d asked me a question. Now what was it?

  “I was just about to text you,” I said, holding up my phone as evidence.

  “Yes, I heard. You said I’m just who you need to escort you to your next destination.”

  That’s what the question had been. Relieved to be caught up, I glanced back at the cafe, then gestured toward his truck. “Let’s talk in your truck. You’re not the only one around here with good hearing.”

  Liam arched an eyebrow, but amicably retreated to his truck. June in Ohio wasn’t my favorite season, and Liam caught me eyeing his AC with a hopeful expression. “Not a summer girl?”

  “No,” I said shortly, lifting my long dark hair off my neck and back. “I don’t like anything over sixty degrees.”

  “Duly noted.”

  As he started the car and turned up the AC, I pulled out a piece of paper I’d inadvertently sat on. It was a hand-drawn map of some kind. “What’s this?”

  “I went back to Acme last night after I took you home.” Liam leaned over and took the paper, unfolding it as he explained. “I found more blood.”

  “Yeah, Vincent said you found evidence of a baobhan sidhe.” I shivered despite the heat. “Not a pleasant bunch. And he’ll be even more unpleasant now that he’s been shot.”

  Liam paused and stared at me. “How do you know he was shot?”

  “I asked my army,” Peasblossom spoke up, puffing out her chest and standing on my shoulder like a miniature Peter Pan about to crow.

  “Army?” Liam echoed.

  “Of spies,” I supplied. “Peasblossom has quite the information network here now.”

  That didn’t seem to put Liam’s mind at ease, but now wasn’t the time to get into pixie societal structures. “I just talked to Ian Walsh. Apparently, one of his employees has gone missing. A baobhan sidhe.”

  Liam scoffed. “So one of his employees kills a centaur and he conveniently claims he was ‘missing?’”

  “Not exactly missing.” I told him what I knew about the case thus far, and everything Ian had told me. I told him about Stasya and Charbel, about Stasya’s defection to Underhill and Aaban’s apparent reaction. He looked dubious throughout, especially when I mentioned Nathan defecting right back.

  “I’d say all those shifting loyalties sound too convenient, but we are talking about the sidhe,” Liam muttered. “Any one of them would sell his mother for a grape.”

  “I would say he can’t lie, but of course, that’s another problem with the sidhe,” I pointed out. “You need to record them and play it back to analyze word for word to even have a clue if they’re talking around the facts or not.” I shook my head. “Right now, everything he said is just a story. I need physical evidence.”

  “Well, I can tell you that Stasya was definitely tortured at Acme, the baobhan sidhe was definitely there, and hurt bad, and Jeff was also there, and also hurt.” He shook his head and pointed at the map. “I couldn’t pick up scent trails because the garbage in the building contaminates the entire area. But with the amount of blood spilled, I had no problem identifying the injured parties.”

  I leaned closer, sinking into the warm aura emanating from him while
I tried to get a better view of the map. “Where was Jeff’s blood?”

  “Here.” Liam pointed to the map. “These bushes give cover, but Jeff could still see the window where the ladder was that Roger used to see inside. I found his blood all over the ground.” He met my eyes. “If he survived that, I’m going to be very, very surprised. It wasn’t just blood, he lost some guts as well. Smelled like his intestines were pierced.”

  My stomach rolled. Pierced intestines meant serious infection. Unless an ambulance was just hanging around at the edge of the property, Jeff was dead. I closed my hand into a fist, frustrated. If only the bones hadn’t been stolen. If Jeff had been killed there, his murderer would have fed him to the tsuchinokos along with Stasya.

  Liam gestured on the map again. “And here, right outside the doors, that’s where I found the sidhe blood. There was a drop of Roger’s blood too. Well, I’m assuming it’s Roger’s blood,” he amended. “It was human. Vincent would have to test it to confirm.”

  I stared at the map. “So the working theory is the baobhan sidhe was in the building torturing Stasya. Then they must have discovered Roger.”

  Peasblossom chimed in. “If he saw a baobhan sidhe torturing a centaur, it’s little wonder his tiny human brain couldn’t handle it.”

  “So Roger either hurts himself getting down the ladder, or he’s hurt by the baobhan when he catches him, here,” I said, pointing to the map.

  “Jeff sees Roger in trouble, so he shoots the sidhe. Roger gets away—”

  “But the sidhe catches Jeff,” I finished.

  “So now the question is, who was the baobhan sidhe really working for?” Liam asked. “Ian or Aaban?”

  I settled back into my seat and fastened my seat belt. “That’s what we’re going to find out. Tell me, are you a gambling man?”

  Chapter 15

  The Fortuna’s Stables racino was a sprawling building of cream stone and crystal clear glass, with a large red block sign reading FORTUNA’S in big white letters. The lawn was perfectly manicured. Set against the sunny blue sky and fluffy white clouds, it looked like a vacation resort where a family could have a good time.

  Glancing at the facade, you didn’t think so much about the people who came here because a sickness demanded they give the racino all their money in the hope that somehow, this time, that bet would lead to the good life. And I certainly wouldn’t have guessed at a glance that this is where my murdered centaur had come to fight.

  “Clever having the fight club here,” Liam commented. “There’s an on-site care facility for large animals. And between the entertainment and the amount of alcohol they serve, even if a human did stumble upon one of the fighters coming or going, I doubt they’d even blink.”

  He drove into the parking garage, and I sighed in relief as the heavy concrete blocked out the sun. I felt like my scalp was on fire. If I had to go out there again anytime soon, I was seriously considering wearing my pointed black hat, just for the shade the brim would provide.

  “Speaking of entertainment,” I spoke up. “I forgot to mention that Ian Walsh occasionally contracts out work to a wizard who makes his office here. Have you ever heard of Stavros Rosso?”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “Echo says he has a sideshow, with a fire breather, sword swallower, etc., and they’re all Other.”

  Liam glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Why would Ian Walsh hire an entertainer?”

  I frowned. “I’m not sure if Ian has made use of Stavros and his band, or if it’s Stavros himself. According to Echo, Stavros has set himself up as a sort of dealer.”

  “Cards?”

  “Favors. He’s the man to come to if you need something. Sort of the loan shark of the Otherworld, but he deals in more than money.”

  We got out of the truck and made our way to the elevator. Liam frowned at the buttons. “Too much to hope there’d be a button labeled ‘fight club.’”

  “It’s a code.” We stepped inside and after a moment of thought, I typed in the date and the phase of the moon. The doors slid shut, and the elevator jerked before beginning its descent. My heart pounded as we dropped below ground level, the heat leeching away as we got farther and farther from the sunlight.

  I heard the noise of the fight before the elevator doors opened. Metal chain links rattling, people shouting, and the occasional thud of what could be the heavy footsteps of a giant, or excited observers thumping against whatever surface was handy as they egged on their favorite to win.

  “This is not going to smell good,” Liam muttered.

  The doors slid open, confirming his guess. Smoke and booze over a layer of blood, sweat, and tears mixed with the musk of fur, the nose-tickling dander of feathers, and the bitter scent of too much magic. I wrinkled my nose, glad I didn’t have his heightened senses. It wasn’t as bad as the Acme building, but I was definitely washing my hair and clothes when I got home.

  The area was much bigger than I’d expected. Plain concrete walls stained a rusty pink with old blood contrasted sharply with the gleaming metal bars that crisscrossed overhead, holding enormous lights that would have looked at home on a Hollywood movie set. The arena was large enough for a centaur to build up speed, and tall enough for the stone giant I’d encountered to raise his arms above his head for a brutal smash.

  On the end of the room closest to the elevator, a group of tall tables and barstools were set up for people to sit and shout at each other over the noise of the crowd and the fight inside. Right now there was a thick cluster of Otherworlders, ranging from a handful of sirens surveying the room with beautiful predatory gazes to a demon watching the ring with a smile playing over his mouth. In the corner a satyr stared unabashedly at the sirens, and a hodgepodge of other creatures scurried between the tables like a broken ant farm.

  “Awfully busy for noon on a Wednesday,” Liam observed.

  He leaned down to speak into my ear so I could hear him over the noise, and his breath sent goosebumps down my back. I shivered, then shook myself before pointing at the other end of the room.

  “And it would seem they have a private room for those wanting to avoid the riffraff.”

  Liam followed my gesture to a glassed off partition at the far side of the room. I couldn’t see too clearly because of the glare of the lights, but I caught a glimpse of a tall man with a long, sloping nose holding a champagne flute.

  The crowd roared, and Liam and I both turned in time to see the fight come to a bloody end. A giant with a bald head spotted with freckles the size of my thumbprint toppled over backward, bulging eyes rolling back in his head. His stomach and face were a mess of torn flesh and under the bright lights his blood looked like melted candy. I couldn’t see his opponent until the giant hit the floor, leaving nothing between me—

  —and the goblin.

  My pulse skipped a beat. It wasn’t Asher, thank the gods, but it was one of his brothers. I’d broken his arm yesterday, and I could still hear that moan of pleasure he’d made in my ear, the sound mixing with the sharp snap of bone. I pivoted, putting myself on the other side of Liam’s larger body and hoping I’d been quick enough to avoid the goblin’s attention.

  “I don’t see any judges or referees,” Liam commented.

  “I doubt they have them.” I headed for the other end of the room, farther away from the ring. “Let’s go to the bar, people are always chattiest by the bar.”

  Liam nodded and I tried to stay a step ahead of him so I could continue using him as a human shield. Between the distinct lack of respect for personal space prevalent in the club and my insistence on staying in front of Liam, it took me longer than it should have to notice the number of werewolves in the club.

  It wasn’t until the third one bumped into me, knocking me forward a few steps, that I realized several men were going out of their way to put themselves in Liam’s path.

  I glanced over my shoulder in time to see a particularly thick man with black hair and an impressive beard plant himself
in Liam’s path. He didn’t step in front of him directly so much as he made it impossible for Liam to continue walking without stepping around him. I was no expert on werewolf culture, but I was fairly certain the other wolves were feeling Liam out. An alpha wolf didn’t have a tattoo or a crown, so if you didn’t know them personally, the only way to know where they were in the hierarchy was to ask—or to get in their face.

  “Don’t interfere!” Peasblossom warned, shouting directly into my ear—again.

  “I’m not stupid,” I muttered.

  Liam stopped in front of the man, his body language relaxed. He met the other man’s eyes, not staring him down, just waiting. I was standing close enough that I felt his aura, and the hairs on the back of my arms rose as that energy built, rolling outward like a summer storm. The bearded man’s nostrils flared. Finally, he shifted to the right, leaving Liam’s path clear again.

  I was just letting out a breath of relief when a voice came from behind me.

  “New blood,” a man’s voice said.

  A large man appeared from nowhere, standing in our path in a wide stance that made it clear he had no intention of moving. His hair was cut close to his head, and he had the build of someone who worked hard to stay in shape as opposed to relying on Otherworldly ability.

  “You lookin’ for a fight?” he asked Liam.

  “No, just information,” Liam answered. “You know a baobhan sidhe by the name of Nathan?”

  “I might.” He took a step closer, encroaching on Liam’s personal space. “But if you want me to talk, you have to beat me first.”

  Despite the aggression, the tension in his body spoke of an alertness that betrayed his ham-fisted approach. He was playing the brute, but I was willing to bet he was smarter than he let on.

  I was already looking around for another option, anticipating Liam’s refusal, when Liam spoke.

  “I won’t fight a challenge fight with you. But if this is the price you ask for information, that’s fine.”