“And who keeps those people from going over the line?” Owen had said. Even now, seventeen years later, he remained shocked that Tarlia let him speak so frankly to her. But the High Queen grew angry when her retainers prevaricated or told her anything but the truth or their honest opinions.
Tarlia had smiled. “Why, Colonel, you do.”
“The Worldburner?” said Anna. “She was the one from New York, wasn’t she?”
The memory clicked. Nadia MacCormac, formerly Nadia Moran. She had been the one to stop the Rebels’ nuclear bomb during the battle of New York. At the time, there had been speculation that she had been an Inquisition agent, though that had been drowned out a few weeks later with the destruction of the Archons and the announcement of the Day of Return. Now, if Owen remembered correctly, MacCormac owned a fruit company.
A fruit company? Damned odd.
“Guess she’s one of the High Queen’s agents, then,” said Owen.
“Like you,” said Anna.
“Yes, like me,” he said. Owen had the uneasy feeling that this MacCormac woman was one of the people Tarlia used to do her dirty work. “She’s supposed to meet me at my office at 10 tomorrow, and then we’ll get started.”
He started to stand, but Anna sat next to him on the bench and hugged him. It made him feel better. Owen gripped her hand and squeezed.
“You’re going to get your clothes sweaty,” said Owen.
“I have to do laundry this week anyway,” said Anna.
Owen smiled. “Okay. I had better get started.”
Anna didn’t stand up. “What are you going to do?”
“Kiss you,” said Owen, and he did. “Then I’m going to finish my workout and take a shower. And then I’m going to start reading the case file for Ronald Doyle.”
Because the sooner he figured out who had killed Doyle and his family, the better.
He knew from bitter experience that the longer these jobs from Tarlia lasted, the worse they would be.
***
Chapter 3: The Basic Principles of Investigation
I was worried that Russell would brood over our deal with Arnold Brauner, but my brother was more resilient than that. Our lawyer reviewed the draft document, said it had no hidden traps or poison provisions, and so we agreed to donate one percent of Moran Imports’ profits (net, not gross) to the Brauner Foundation, assuming there were any profits.
At least it would be tax-deductible.
The funny thing was that Russell didn’t worry over it at all. He accepted it as one of the costs of doing business and went right back to finishing up his schoolwork and turning the rest of his attention to the company. I focused my attention on Moran Imports, working with Robert to get our shipments out on schedule, and the rest of the time I spent upgrading the security systems at my new house.
But I started to brood over the deal.
I don’t know why.
I think part of it was that Riordan was in the UK for Shadow Hunter business. Riordan said that I was one of the few people who could make him laugh, which was nice, but he also did a very good job of keeping my brain on the rails. My brain liked to go off the rails a lot because that locomotive was towing a freight train full of bad memories from the Eternity Crucible, and…
Man, that metaphor sucks.
But I started to get pissed off. Or a sort of black mood chewed at my ever-troublesome brain. I had done some crazy things in my life, faced down some powerful enemies, and I had survived them all. To have to deal with a toad like Brauner began to gnaw at me. Hell, I could have killed him and wiped out his security guards in about five seconds. I didn’t want to, but I could have.
Two nights after we signed the deal with Brauner, I had a vicious nightmare about the Eternity Crucible. In it, I fled through the streets of the ghostly small town inside the Crucible, killing wraithwolf after wraithwolf. Finally, they cornered me on the main street and ripped me apart, tearing chunks of flesh from my legs and stomach as I screamed and thrashed and fought.
The nightmare was vivid because I had lived through that exact scenario thousands of times. Well, I say I lived through it, but I died over and over again.
I woke up shaking and covered in sweat and ready to start killing everything in sight. I groped for Riordan’s side of the bed, but it was empty. That was right, he was in the UK. He was good at calming me down after a nightmare in a couple different ways, including (I’m a little embarrassed to admit this), using his Shadowmorph to inspire lust in me so I fell asleep after we had worn each other out.
Hey, it worked. And it was really enjoyable besides.
But he was thousands of miles away, and I was alone in our house.
I needed to calm down, so I went to the basement and worked out. We had gotten a home gym and set it up in the basement, and I powered through a set of weights, deadlifts and bench presses and pullups. It was probably stupid to do bench presses without a spotter, but I was in too bad of a mood to care. After I finished the weights, I was drenched with sweat, and my arms and hips felt a little shaky, but I ran six miles on the treadmill anyway, until I was so tired and dehydrated that I started to see spots.
After that, I showered, drank a gallon of water, and managed to sleep for four hours until it was time to go to the warehouse.
I must have looked rough because Robert frowned when I walked into the office.
“You okay?” he said.
“What, do I look like I saw a ghost or something?” I said, dropping into the chair behind my computer.
“You kind of look sick,” said Robert.
I did. My little nightmare episodes often left me looking paler than usual, with dark circles under my eyes. I sort of looked like I had the flu.
“I’m fine,” I said, unlocking my computer. I left my coat on, which probably didn’t help my argument, but I was usually cold and heating this huge drafty warehouse was damned expensive.
Robert gave me a doubtful look but turned his attention back to his computer.
The morning was busy but uneventful. Six trucks arrived at the warehouse, carrying more fruit from Kalvarion, and our crews went to work sorting it and packing it for distribution to our various customers. We were building up a big client list. There was more demand for the fruit than our supply could meet, especially since a big part of it was getting shipped to the cities of the Elven commoners. We didn’t have enough warehouse workers to handle the shipments we did have, so Robert and I helped load two of the trucks. My shoulders and hips still ached from my early-morning workout, but I didn’t mind. It helped distract me.
Just before noon, Russell called me on my cell phone.
“Central Milwaukee Printer Repair,” I said. “You jam it, we’ll fix it.”
There was a pause.
“That stopped being funny like, five years ago,” said Russell.
I laughed. “Then why do I keep doing it?”
“I’m not going to speculate about that,” said Russell. “Hey, why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? James is grilling steaks.”
“Grilling?” I said. “For God’s sake. It’s November 12th.”
“You know James,” said Russell. “He’ll keep grilling until the snowflakes are literally falling on the grill. I think we’re inviting Robert and Alexandra over as well. You’re coming?”
I hesitated. I could see what Russell was doing. Robert must have called or texted him to check on me. Russell had then called James and Lucy Marney and probably convinced them to invite Robert and Alexandra. I started to say no, that I had work I wanted to do on the house, but I stopped myself. The house felt too big and empty without Riordan, and I didn’t feel like being by myself.
“Yeah,” I said. “Sure. Why not? I’ll see you at five.”
The day passed without incident, and at five PM, I left the warehouse and headed to the Marneys’ house.
I took my motorcycle, a black Royal Motors NX-9 sportsbike with orange highlights. It was getting a bit chilly to ride motorc
ycles, but it hadn’t snowed yet, and I intended to use the motorcycle to the last possible moment. Sort of like James and his grill, I suppose. I had taken the bike to the warehouse because I thought it would cheer me up, and by God, it did. I loved motorcycles – the feeling of speed, of power, of freedom. I suppose the feeling was illusory. Then again, I had lot more power, freedom, and money than I had back when I had been stealing things for Lord Morvilind. The downside was that I had to use that power responsibly, which meant not murdering a jackass like Brauner when it was convenient.
Thinking about Brauner pissed me off, so I gunned the throttle and shot through a yellow light before it changed to red, which cheered me right up.
I came to the Marneys’ street. It was lined with three-bedroom houses on either side, most of them with small garages and little privacy fences screening the backyard. In summer, the trees growing over the curb tended to create the illusion of driving down a leafy green tunnel. But all the leaves were down, and the barren tree branches were stark against the darkening sky.
I pulled into the Marneys’ driveway and shut the bike’s engine off. The Marneys’ house was like all the others on the street, though I thought the front door and maybe one of the front windows looked crooked. That always bothered me, since I had helped rebuild the front wall after the Archon attack on Milwaukee. Russell’s car was in the street, as was Robert’s shiny black SUV. (He had explained to me, in copious detail, how he thought an SUV would be safer for his kids in the event of an accident.) I tugged off my helmet, dropped my gloves into it, and let myself inside.
“Nadia!” said Russell from the kitchen.
I grinned and looked around. The Marneys’ living room had a pair of large, comfortable couches, one facing the big TV mounted on the wall and the other at a right angle to it. There was a stack of historical adventure novels on the end table next to Russell’s preferred spot. Alexandra Ross sat on the couch, holding her year-old son Felix. She was blond and pretty and ridiculously photogenic, and she and Robert had produced an equally photogenic son. Good thing they were both nice people or I would have to hate them for it. Robert sat next to her, one hand resting on her knee.
“Hi, guys,” I said, shrugging out of my heavy jacket and putting it and my helmet in the front closet.
“Hey, boss,” said Robert. “Want to talk about work for the next three hours?”
“If you want,” I said, and then realized that he was joking. “Oh, wait, that would be rude. Sorry, I don’t do many parties.”
“It’s not a party, dear, it’s a friendly barbecue,” said Lucy Marney, emerging from the kitchen. She was a fit woman in later middle age, with that sort of birdlike quality some women have. Lucy gave me a hug, and then passed me a large travel mug of coffee. “Thought you might like this.”
“You’re a saint,” I said, taking a sip.
“Sorry it’s in a travel mug, but we just had the carpet cleaned, and James is paranoid about spills,” said Lucy.
“You’re a saint,” I said again, grinning. “But if you’re worried about spills, why did you invite a couple with a one-year-old?” Both Robert and Alexandra laughed at that.
“James and I both work at the hospital,” said Lucy, and she patted Felix’s head. “We’ve both seen much worse than this little champ. Sit down, sit down.”
“I’m going to go say hi to James quick,” I said.
I walked through the small dining room, which had a portrait of the High Queen and an American flag on the wall. The cold blue eyes of Tarlia seemed to watch me from the picture as I crossed the room, which I’m mostly sure was my imagination. I passed through the kitchen, where I saw a couple of dinner courses in progress, and I reminded myself to return and help Lucy finish preparing dinner. A glass door opened onto the little concrete deck behind the house, and I stepped through it and joined James and Russell.
James Marney, MD, stood before his propane grill, a spatula in hand. I had seen pictures of him as a young man-at-arms, and not to put too fine a point on it, he had been tall, strong, and handsome. Thirty years later, he was still tall and quite strong, but his cane was propped against the side of the house, and he was a bit on the gaunt side. At the moment, he was wearing slacks, a button-down shirt, and a hideous orange apron with the phrase LORD OF THE GRILL in black letters across the front.
Russell stood next to him. They usually grilled together. I’m not sure why it took two of them. Maybe it was a male bonding thing or something.
“Hey,” I said, and I gave James a side hug since he was holding a spatula and watching some sizzling steaks. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Figured you’d be bored since Riordan is out of town on business,” said James.
I laughed. “I’m never bored.”
“You’d sit in the dark and practice spells,” said Russell. “Or spend all your time working on renovating your house. There’s bored, and then there’s bored.”
He said it lightly, but I could tell that he was worried. I was touched. After all the things I had done, I didn’t deserve people who cared enough to look after me. But I did have them, and they had gone to all the trouble of having a barbecue in November to cheer me up. Even if they did get one of James’s delicious steaks out of the deal.
I resolved not to think about Brauner for the rest of the night. Besides, I just had to follow my own damned logic. It was like I had told Russell – our little tussle with Governor Arnold could have been much worse.
It wasn’t like anyone had gotten killed or hurt or anything.
I helped Lucy set the table and make salads and rolls, and by then, the steaks had been grilled to satisfaction. We sat down around the table, and James led us in prayer. I was pretty sure Robert and Alexandra were Catholic, but then the dinner prayer didn’t say anything positive or negative about the pope, so that was all right. My own relationship with God was a mixture of belligerence and wary gratitude. If God was good, then why was the world so screwed up? Then again, a couple of times in very dark places I had prayed out of desperation, and things had gotten better after. And I had been going to church with Riordan because he liked going to church and it seemed odd to make him go alone, so maybe some of it was wearing off on me.
Russell and Robert did most of the talking, describing Moran Imports in glowing terms. I contributed comments when necessary. Halfway through dinner, Alexandra got up to feed and change Felix. I wondered if it was weird for Lucy to host a pregnant woman with a small child for dinner, since she couldn’t have kids herself. Then again, she was an ER nurse, so she had probably seen like a billion pregnant women in various stages of distress. Given all the myriad ways a pregnancy could go wrong, maybe she was grateful to be spared the experience. I didn’t particularly want kids, and given that Riordan was a Shadow Hunter and how the regeneration spell had messed with me, we probably weren’t going to have them. I mean, I’d do the best I could if it did happen, but I wasn’t disappointed by the lack of kids.
Robert and Alexandra would have been, though. And I think Russell would be, too. Maybe in a few years, he would get married and have some kids of his own.
I could be crazy Aunt Nadia.
Now there was a disturbing thought.
After dinner, we had dessert – apple crumble and ice cream. I was in a good mood, so I ate more than I usually did, and I didn’t have any nausea, and dinner stayed down. That was a nice surprise. Because of the frequent bouts of nausea, I sometimes skipped eating until I got light-headed. Riordan had told me, as tactfully as he could manage, that low blood sugar did not improve my overall temperament.
Once we were finished, Lucy, Russell, and I washed up the dishes and put the leftovers away (not that there were many) and James, Robert, and Alexandra retreated to the living room. I didn’t think the Rosses would stay late since no doubt Felix had an early bedtime.
We had just finished in the kitchen. Russell sat in his usual spot next to his stack of paperback books, and I was going to sit next to Alexandra, w
ho was holding Felix. Hopefully, the kid wouldn’t throw up on my lap or anything. I’d saved his life, so it would be really ungrateful of him to puke on me, but babies have no sense of gratitude.
I was about three steps from the couch when the blood ring on my right hand went cold, and the voice of the High Queen filled my head.
“Nadia MacCormac,” said Tarlia inside my skull. “Tomorrow you will go to Homeland Security’s Central Milwaukee Office and meet Colonel Owen Quell. Be there by 10 AM. You will work with him to find the killer of Ronald Doyle and his family. He is another of my agents, and together you will find Doyle’s killer.” A note of amusement entered her voice. “Do try to get along with him.” The amusement faded. “Be wary. There is something unusual about Doyle’s death. If there is a threat to my rule behind his murder, I wish it stopped sooner rather than later.”
The mental contact ended.
“Nadia?” said Russell.
I blinked and realized that I had stopped in the middle of the living room.
“You okay?” said James.
I was standing in front of the TV and had blocked the football game.
“I’m good,” I said, which wasn’t true. “I’m just going to step outside and text Riordan. Get some fresh air.”
With that, I snagged my coat from the front closet, shrugged into it, and walked through the kitchen and onto the patio. It had gotten cold out, well below freezing, and the chill hit me like a slap. That was good. It helped me focus, helped me concentrate on the problem at hand.
Because I did have a problem. The High Queen wanted me to solve another murder? Damn it. The last time I had solved a murder for her, I had wound up riding a dragon over New York as we chased an enslaved cyborg and his traitorous controller.
But she wanted me to work with a Homeland Security colonel? I didn’t like that thought.
Wait. Owen Quell. I had heard that name somewhere before, hadn’t I? I fished out my phone since I was supposed to be texting Riordan anyway, and I did a search for Owen Quell. There were a bunch of hits. The top one was his directory page on Homeland Security’s Milwaukee branch website. Wasn’t much information there – Colonel Owen Quell, head of Special Investigations, office number and phone number, which was just the main desk number for the Central Office. But some of the other hits were for bookstores, and I pulled them up.
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