by Brie Tart
“I take it this wasn’t a general, ‘how are you and the family?’” Yoel came out with an ornate wooden jewelry box. It had strong Unseelie energy emanating from it.
“He hung up right quick when he heard me coming.” Helen wrinkled her nose. I fonly she could’ve eavesdropped more. “Something about making a deal so he could get out. I think the old boss was asking about Ewan’s death.”
“I can look into him.” Yoel set the jewelry box on the desk and closed the heart charm into it. He rifled through a different drawer than the scotch, and put chalk and vanilla scented candles around the box. “What’s his name?”
“Dylan Morgan.” Helen swirled the last drops of the whisky around in the bottom of her glass. “His green card had the same on it.”
“Hmm, fae can easily forge papers for their agents. It could be an alias, like my Daniel Middleton identity.” Yoel used the chalk to draw a circle with different symbols inside it around the box. “I could look into his name and find nothing, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong.”
“I get that. But let me know what you find, anyways.” And maybe it would settle her suspicions. Dylan’s story about how he tried to protect Tommy didn’t make sense anymore. He hadn’t come home with a scratch, and he was too certain that he’d taken care of everything. How else would those facts line up unless he helped kill her uncle? “He’s the best lead I’ve got.”
“A few days should be enough—” Yoel trailed off as his grip spasmed. His chalk cracked in half.
“You alright?” Helen’s stomach twisted as her chest got hot. Either the scotch effects kicked in late, or something fae was coming.
Yoel sat frozen and stared at the black curtain hanging over the desk. The faint energy prodding at her fae sense came from there. No, from the mirror underneath it.
“What’s goin’ on?” Helen flipped the flap of Yoel’s coat and felt around the lining for her machete.
“Unseelie.” Yoel gulped. “A Hellhound.”
CHAPTER 15
“What?” Helen grabbed her machete out of Yoel’s coat, leaving its sheath inside the lining. “How? I thought you had spells guarding this place.”
A red glow pulsed behind the curtain. The tiny hairs on Helen’s arms stood on end. A primal instinct bubbled in her, and the heat from her chest spread to the rest of her. Was she even ready to take on a fully fledged Hellhound?
“Cannae get her out. Could be caught,” Yoel muttered, the hint of Scottish in his accent peeking out as he surveyed the wide open basement. “Have to hide. Where?”
“Dammit, Scribbler. Explain!”
“No time.” Yoel zeroed in on the man-sized antique safe with his artifacts inside. He rushed over and turned the combination knob. “In here. Tight fit, but it should mask your aura.”
Too many questions swam through Helen’s head as Yoel pulled the safe door open. How did those infamous Unseelie Hellhounds know how to get into his basement? Why would they want to? Why wasn’t he hiding too?
The red glow from the mirror expanded across the back wall. The curtain billowed up.
Yoel yanked Helen toward the safe.
“You’re gettin’ an earful after this.” Bile built in Helen’s throat as the energy from all those objects bombarded her at once. She ducked in anyways and folded her elbows to her sides as sharp corners and edges prodded her back. “What about you?”
Yoel didn’t answer and pushed the thick door shut.
It bumped against Helen’s knee, not locking all the way as Yoel turned around. It left Helen a slim gap to see through, as wide as the cracks in a public bathroom stall. At least she wouldn’t suffocate if Yoel got himself killed.
The steady waves of magic from the artifacts faded to a faint tickle as a more savage energy crept through Helen’s peep slit. Weight and pressure filled the small space, oppressive enough to choke. The smoke from her apartment’s fire had been like that, forcing its way into every opening it found. Mouth, nose, ears, eyes, it hadn’t mattered. Helen buried her nose and mouth in her hand.
“Kate. This is an invasive surprise.” Yoel backed up into Helen’s narrow viewpoint. “What brings you?”
“An assignment,” a woman replied in curt American business speak. High heels clicked against the concrete floor as a short brunette advanced on Yoel. She was a model lawyer for a high end firm, complete with a pencil-skirted power suit and a slick bun. It wasn’t the picture Helen got when imagining a magical enforcer, but the suffocating power oozing off the petite fae fit the bill to a tee. “A Dullahan and a Phooka gave me two similar testimonies that an alleged colleague of mine is on the loose, murdering Seelie henchmen. Apparently, one of the Seelie Queen’s council members is offering an open favor in exchange for said colleague, alive. Ms. Nicnevin is still deciding if she’s happy about this news or not, but she needs more information to be sure.”
“Of course, you assumed I knew something.”
“This is your district, Mr. Mizrahi,” Kate said. Was that Yoel’s actual last name?
“Just because I live here doesn’t mean I know all of the local gossip.”
“All of my informants mentioned seeing you at the scene of the bounty announcement.”
“And who’s to say I overheard anything?” Yoel crossed his arms, stance firm as he stared down the tiny Hellhound.
“I used to babysit you, kid.” Black mist swirled around her hand and a blaze of reds, yellows, and oranges erupted around her. The vapor cleared, and Kate pressed the point of a black glass sword right under Yoel’s neck. It was the same kind Ailpien had used to frame Helen. “If you try and bluff me, I will report it to your mother.”
“It’s been awhile since she checked on me.” Yoel didn’t even flinch, his stoic expression steady. “How is Mum these days?”
Helen gaped. One of those fearsome bodyguards, who made fae gape and scream, had babysat Yoel? Did he lie about Hellhounds being the Unseelie Queen’s most loyal servants? Had Helen misunderstood their place on the fae food chain? That was only the start of the questions she wanted a damn good explanation for.
“She wants her son back home.” Kate’s energy died down as she tapped the manicured nails of her other hand against her hip. That sword edge stayed poised just under Yoel’s throat. “Do you think she’d mind if I used force to get what I need?”
“Have you heard the phrase about squeezing blood from a stone?”
“It would still relieve so much stress. And you aren’t exactly a stone…”
“Go on then,” Yoel challenged, downright flinty.
Kate clenched her jaw. The sword vanished. “She can’t protect you forever.”
“Technically, she can.”
“What were you doing at that neutral ground? Do you visit a lot?”
“Now and then. It’s a good place to keep up on gossip.”
“Did it have something to do with that freckled little owner? You two were getting chatty. Friendly, even. It would be a shame if something unfortunate happened to her because you kept vital information to yourself.”
“You mean Maggie?” Yoel shrugged, though it came out stiffer than it should. A tell. “She is a powerful friend, under Seelie protection.”
“A little negotiation can change that.”
Yoel went quiet.
“Or maybe those Oxford schoolmates sharing a house together? That one medieval literature professor?”
Helen held her breath as she white knuckled the handle of her machete. It would be so easy to hand her over right then. All Yoel had to do was point. Her blood pulsed in time with her heart, racing in her ears, filling the pregnant silence as it stretched.
Kate swiveled around and sauntered away from Yoel, out of sight. Her heels clicked in the direction of the desk and the mirror.
Yoel dug his fingers into his arms and gritted his teeth. “Wait.”
Helen tightened her haunches, ready to leap out and go down swinging.
“Yes?”
“I’ll get you the i
nformation you need.” Yoel’s fists fell to his sides. “Give me a few days.”
“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Mizrahi.” Kate’s voice dripped with satisfaction. “I’ll entertain myself with a few other hybrids while I wait.”
Yoel winced as he watched ahead of him. When the clicking of high heels stopped, he glanced toward the safe and made his way over.
Helen threw the safe open and met Yoel halfway. As soon as he came in reach, she landed a right hook on his jaw.
He went down, ass to the floor and holding the side of his face. His eyes were wide like she’d splashed him with a bucket of water instead of decking him in the face. “I...take it you heard all that.”
“Explain. Now.” Helen’s fingers trembled around that machete. She didn’t want to kill him. He’d never lied about anything she’d asked outright about, and he’d just confused the hell out of her by sticking his neck out. But he was a gigantic liability, and she was tired of being wrong about people she got close to. “And it better make sense, or else.”
“I’m sure I’d deserve it, regardless.” Yoel stayed on the ground with a red welt forming on his cheek. Either Helen had pulled that punch without thinking, or Yoel’s fae blood made him tougher than he looked. “Seelie and Unseelie have their own mortal agents who act as walking loopholes in their oaths. Often they are used for unscrupulous roles, such as spies or assassins. Seelie have changelings. Unseelie use their half-breed children. You can figure out which category I fall into.”
“Are you tryin’ to make this worse?”
“You wanted an explanation. If you were expecting excuses, I’m not one to make them, not for myself anyways.”
“So that’s why you helped me? To spy on me?”
“At first, yes. I noticed you were an anomoly the moment we met. My duties to Nicnevin include investigating anything strange that could help her, or be used against her. And to be frank, you were desperate, an easy mark.” Yoel nodded, hardly even blinking. “Then, once I found out more about what you were and what you knew, I would decide whether to report you or not.”
“You had a damn good opportunity just now.”
“You don’t deserve it.”
“And if I did?”
“I would have waited for the best opportunity to kill you myself. Then I would call Kate, or one of The Dark Queen’s other pets, to take care of the rest. I’m not supposed to, but my mother’s position on the Unseelie Council grants me more freedom than other hybrids. I use it to deprive Nicnevin of anyone she would want to get her hands on.”
“You’ve done this to people before?”
“Yes, to anyone who made a good candidate for transformation into a full Unseelie. Nasty murderers and con artists, mostly.”
“You make no fuckin’ sense.” Helen held her head as her conflicted thoughts swirled. “Why keep helping me now? She threatened you, threatened people that got under your skin.”
“That’s my fault for trying to have a life outside of the Unseelie Court. I put those people in danger, like I signed the death warrants of the ones they’ve already killed to make me cooperate.” Yoel glanced away at the mirror. His jaw tightened as his expression got hard. Something possessed his face, a glaring conviction Helen shared when she thought about finding Tommy’s killer. It was a kindred emotion, something he couldn’t fake. “Helping you now? Besides giving Kate some information so she doesn’t follow through on her threats, you didn’t ask for this life to be thrust upon you. Neither did your family. I can relate to that. Perhaps if I arm you with the knowledge you need, you won’t repeat my mistakes. Maybe then I’ll be able tip my creator’s opinion of me toward forgiveness, and be able to better live with myself as a result.”
“The minute I think I have you figured out, you pull this crap.” Helen held out her free hand for him and relaxed her machete. He’d saved her life plenty of times and kept her secrets so far. She owed him and—as stupid as it felt—she believed him. “Come on, we’ve got work to do, and I’ve gotta get back to my boyfriend before he worries too much.”
Yoel lifted his eyebrows he alternated looking between Helen’s outstretched hand and her irritated face for a solid minute. “Just like that…?”
“You earned it.”
“And my ancestry?”
“I’ve got no idea how that works.”
“Essentially, half-Unseelie children are humans, but with some elemental enhancements and deformations we hide with—”
“I don’t care,” Helen interrupted. “You’re still the only friend I’ve got in this mess.”
Yoel’s cheeks got pink as he took her hand and pulled himself up. “You continue to be full of surprises, Miss Carver.”
“Good. It keeps things interesting.”
CHAPTER 16
Helen kept away from the book shop for a few days while Yoel did his research about Dylan and Ailpien. While he investigated, she decided to do some sleuthing of her own. In her bail enforcement work, Tommy taught her skills of his to help her on cases before the shoe leather work started. This included how to gather info on a target so she could get a rough profile together and use it to bring them in. She never expected she’d use those skills on Dylan, though.
What did she already know about him? Pop culture nerd, Welsh, silly but organized, had a past tie to the fae. She had to dig up more about that fae connection. How? Every minute Dylan didn’t spend with her, he spent with Lucy. At least that’s what she thought. If he wanted to conduct secret business behind his family’s back, after Lucy fell asleep while Helen was out doing her “job” would be the ideal time. He’d have the whole night to himself.
Helen rode to a thrift shop and a convenience store the next evening to stock up on supplies. The heart charm’s new disguise aged up her face, made her hair honey blonde layers, and gave her her extra padding instead of muscle. At least Yoel didn’t play with her height, or riding would be awkward. She found a floral dress and chunky white sneakers that complimented the soccer mom look and stored her stuff in a giant shoulder bag. Once she stashed her bike, she hoofed it back to a hiding spot where she could watch their hotel room.
A good hour and a half passed with her crouched behind some bushes and spying through cheap binoculars. She would’ve loved a parabolic mic to listen in with, but the thrift store didn’t have anything that fancy. The curtains stayed closed and blocked her view inside. Helen took a bite of her protein bar. Her hunch could be wrong, despite making logical sense. Dylan revolved around Lucy like she was the sun and he was her favorite planet. He wouldn’t risk her by leaving. Maybe Helen was paranoid because her whole world had flipped and she was still trying to adjust.
The door handle twisted.
Helen zoomed in the binoculars. The door opened and Dylan stuck his head out. After a look around, he strode past the front office to the sidewalk. The cheery sky blue hoodie he wore clashed with his determined scowl.
What would make him leave like that? As far as Helen knew, they didn’t need groceries for the next couple days, including Lucy’s sweet treats. Perhaps he needed fresh air, or something more incriminating. Helen got to her feet, slipped the binoculars into her shoulder bag, and stalked after her boyfriend. Time to find out.
* * *
Dylan carried on for blocks and blocks, stopping when a comic book shop or game store caught his eye. Helen held her distance and took roundabout ways to keep up. Her boyfriend never peeked over his shoulder or glanced her way. So far, so good.
He came to a string of fast food places and sit down chain restaurants jammed between a few pricey hotels. Dylan passed them by until he came to Hank’s Burger Pit, a reasonably priced favorite they’d taken Lucy to plenty of times. They served cheeseburgers with enough grease to make Helen happy, had chicken fingers with a side option of caramel apples for Lucy, and Dylan’s favorite brownie sundae. He moseyed in.
Helen salivated as she got a whiff of their fryer. The chocolate coating of her protein bar tasted rubbery as
she took her next bite. The place had a bar attached to it, which meant Dylan had until 2:00 A.M. at the latest to eat and move on. Helen jogged up and waited a few seconds before she followed through the front doors.
Hank’s had padded booths lining the windows and regular tables surrounding the bar with its sports broadcasts. A door off to the side led out to a canopied seating area with more of the same. Most of the clientele left were clustered around the bartenders, and a few couples lingered in the booths. No sign of Dylan. Was he out on the patio?
“Hello!” The hostess’ perkiness made her voice a squeak. “How many in your party?”
Helen held up one finger.
“Alright.” The hostess reached under her podium and took out a laminated menu and a napkin rolled around silverware. “Table or booth?”
“Outside still open?” Helen jerked her thumb at the side door.
“Yes! I’ll show you to a table— ”
“Nah.” Helen sighed, licking her lips as the fries and grilled meat hit her. She’d have a better view from the parking lot. “I’m good.”
“Oh.” The hostess’s smile tilted off kilter as she set the menu and silverware bundle back where it came from. “Have a nice night, I guess.”
Helen exited the same way she came. Black railing blocked off the seating area to her right. She caught a glimpse of Dylan leaning on his elbows and staring fixated at something in front of him. She spun left and circled around the building.
The side parking lot was an empty row of neat yellow lines lit up by the flood lights attached to the restaurant. Helen edged toward the corner where the wall’s beige-painted plaster stopped, and the patio’s railing began. She leaned over and picked up hushed voices. If she concentrated hard enough, she could put together what they said.
