by N. P. Martin
He shook his head at me, seeming offended. "Nonsense! You’ll take it!"
"But it’s been in your family for years—"
"It’s a blade of protection for whoever needs it, and I think you might need it." He took the dagger and held it across the palms of his hands. "It will kill almost anything… even elves of great power."
My interest in the dagger deepened when he said that, and for just a few seconds I had a clear picture in my mind of stabbing Iolas through the heart with it and could see clearly the look on his face when I did so, followed by the feeling of satisfaction after I did it. "If you’re sure then," I said taking the dagger from him.
"I’m sure. It’s the least I can do."
I ran my fingers along the sharp edge of the blade, drawing a tiny amount of blood on one finger. "Will it kill a vampire as well?"
Óisín frowned. "A vampire? Why do you ask?"
I shook my head as I put the dagger inside my jacket. "Just wondering, that’s all."
"You don’t want to tangle with vampires, Corvin. If you think Iolas is bad…" He trailed off, as if the rest was obvious.
"I know."
"You’re not thinking of going after Constantine as well, are you?"
I merely shook my head as I finished my pint. "At this point," I said, "anything is possible. That’s all I know."
"You be careful now," Oisin said after I’d thanked him for the drinks, and also the dagger, which felt reassuringly heavy inside my jacket. "And remember one of the golden rules of my people: Thou shall not disfigure the soul. Tread carefully, lad."
I nodded as I paused by the door. "I’ll try to remember that."
Chapter 20
Not long after leaving the pub, I was walking aimlessly down the street when my phone rang.
"Corvin, thank feck. Where are you?"
"Monty? What’s up? Why are you shouting?"
"Eh… Can you come to me apartment?"
"Now?"
"Yeah, now. I’m in a… bit of a bind."
"What sort of bind?"
"It’s probably best if you just come round."
Puffing my cheeks out, I shook my head. "Fine, I’ll be there soon."
"Cheers bro!"
I dreaded to think what was wrong with him this time, but since I was at something of a loose end, and since I would never turn a plea for help from him, I started walking toward Parnell Street where Monty lived. I wasn’t that far away, so it didn’t take me long to reach the place. The apartment complex was upmarket and expensive, though Monty could afford it thanks to the money he made from his YouTube channel and his various hacking activities. When I got there, I expected him to open the door for me, but instead he shouted from inside that he couldn’t, which of course made me frown. Nonetheless, I did a Reveal Spell to reveal the spare key I knew he kept hidden under the door mat. Once I went inside, I stood in the spacious living room looking around and shaking my head. The place was a mess, with empty bottles strewn everywhere, the coffee table covered in drug paraphilia. Obviously Monty had thrown one of his famous parties last night.
"Where are you?" I shouted.
"The bedroom," came the reply.
Stepping over rubbish on the floor, I made my way to the bedroom. The door was closed, and when I opened it, I stopped dead as I stared at Monty on the bed. He was completely naked, with both arms secured to the bedpost with handcuffs. "What the fuck?" I said, unable to keep from smiling.
"Thank feck you’re here," he said, sighing with relief. "Get me out of these cuffs, will you?"
I continued to stand by the door with a smile on my face. "What happened? Did someone forget to leave the key?"
"All I’m going to say is, never sleep with a witch if she’s taken too many mushrooms."
I shook my head. "What happened?"
Monty made a snorting sound like the whole thing was ridiculous. "Well, she was sitting on my face like, and all I did was—"
"On second thoughts," I said, holding my hand up. "I don’t want to know. Why haven’t you got yourself out of this yet?"
"She fecking put a spell on me, didn’t she? Blocked me bleedin’ magic."
"Oh well, I’m sure the spell will wear off soon. I’ll catch you later, bro…" I went to move out the door again.
"Hey! Don’t you feckin' leave me like dis!" Monty shouted in a panic.
I burst out laughing. "As much as I’d love to…"
"You’re an arsehole, Chance."
"After the day I’ve had so far, I need a laugh."
"Tell me all about it when you open these fecking handcuffs."
As I approached the bed, I noticed his mobile phone lying there, and I stared at it a minute. "How’d you manage to get your phone?"
Monty puffed his cheeks out for a second. "With great fecking effort, bro, that’s how. Luckily, me jeans were still on the bed and I managed to use my feet to dig my phone out of me pocket."
"So how did you press the buttons?"
A mischievous and very satisfied smile spread across Monty’s face. "With superior acrobatic skill, that’s how," he said, thrusting his pelvis up slightly.
I couldn’t help laughing. "No way?"
"Yes way." He gazed down. "I used me magic wand."
"Unbelievable," I said, still laughing.
"They don’t call me Magic Cock for nothing, bro."
"What, who calls you that?"
"I do now, after what I just done. Just open the fecking cuffs, will you?"
"Is there a key lying around."
“That freaky witch made off with it. You’ll have to use your magic."
Directing my hand over the first set of handcuffs, I said the word, "Rumpus!" A second later, the cuffs broke in half and fell away, freeing Monty’s wrist. Then I did the same thing with the other handcuffs. "There you go, you’re free. Now put some damn clothes on, Magic Cock."
Monty smiled as he sat on the bed rubbing his wrists. "Thanks, bro. Where would I be without you?"
"Still handcuffed to that fucking bed, poking your phone with your magic wand."
He shook his head. "Right enough. Do us a favor and go brew up some coffee while I get decent."
"It’s a fucking butler you need," I said as I turned to leave the room.
"Are butler’s dear do you think? I reckon having a butler would be great, don’t you?"
I didn’t answer him as I walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Every surface seemed to be covered with empty glasses and bottles. "What a mess," I said as I found a black bag and started putting the bottles into it, before filling the dishwasher with the glasses. At least now I had space to make the coffee. Monty could sort the rest out himself.
By the time I had brought two cups of coffee into the living room, placing them on the coke-dusted coffee table, Monty emerged from the bedroom dressed in three-quarter length shorts and a T-shirt that said COME AT ME BRO on it. "What a night," he said looking around, before collapsing onto the couch. "I never even meant to throw a party."
"You never do," I said, sipping on my own coffee.
Monty smiled. "You gotta go with the flow, bro, you know what I’m saying?" His smile faltered when he saw I wasn’t smiling with him. "What’s up with you anyway? Did something happen to you? You look a bit haunted there."
Haunted was as good a way as any to describe how I was feeling. "A lot of shit has gone down."
"Like what?"
I proceeded to tell him about the phone call from Iolas, and what followed after. "He’s a psychopath," I said, referring of course to Iolas. "He just broke that guy’s neck like it was nothing."
"That's fucked up. I’m sorry you had to see that, bro."
"So am I."
"Maybe you should just back off now, before you end up with a snapped neck as well."
I threw him a look. "I’m not backing off anything."
Monty nodded. "Fair enough. I’m just saying, you should be careful especially after what I found out about Iolas."
>
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I dug a wee bit further into Iolas’ business dealings."
I sat forward in my seat. "What did you find out?"
"It seems he’s been buying up properties all over the country," Monty said. "A lot of businesses and industrial properties. Most of them bought within the last year or so."
"Why would he be buying those kinds of properties?" I wondered aloud. "And why so many?"
"I don’t know, bro, but I did discover something else."
"What?"
"Iolas was a silent partner in most of these deals, which wasn’t easy to find out. I only stumbled across it by accident when I looked at the deeds for a factory building he bought."
"So who’s his partner?"
Monty looked at me gravely. "Prince Constantine."
I stared at him moment and then shook my head. I didn’t even need to ask if he was sure, because I knew he was. He just confirmed what I’d known all along and what my mother had known as well, which is that Iolas and Constantine had formed some sort of partnership. "Two psychopaths working together, but to what end?"
"Not sure, bro," said with a shrug. "But with a vampire and an elf working together, the outcome can’t be good. I thought the vampires only kept to their own kind anyway?"
"They usually do."
"Maybe they’re trying to take over the country." Monty was smiling when he said it, but it didn’t sound like a joke to me. It was entirely possible that Iolas and Constantine had concocted some nefarious plan between them.
"Did you find anything else out?"
"No, just that, but I’m sure it’s enough to go to the Council with, right?"
"The Council?" I shook my head. "I’m not going to the Council with anything. They’ve already made it clear that they won’t go up against Iolas or Constantine when it comes to the crunch. They swept both my parents’ murders under the rug."
"So what are you planning on doing? Taking Iolas and Constantine on yourself?"
I placed my half empty coffee cup on the table and sat back in the couch, suddenly aware of the dagger inside my jacket as its weight pressed against my ribs. "If I have to."
"You won’t have to," Monty said. "I’ll always go into battle with you, bro."
"Into battle?"
"What else do you think it’s going to be? Iolas and Constantine aren’t the type to take things lying down." He paused while he stared at me a moment. "They’re gonna try to get rid of you at some point, bro, especially if you persist in investigating their dirty dealings. That’s why I’m sayin' that maybe you should seek the help of the Council—"
"No! Fuck the Council! That’s just going to make things worse. What do you think Iolas is going to do if I put the Council onto him?"
"Kill you?"
"Exactly, and then I’ll just be another victim conveniently swept under the rug."
"An' Iolas will be free to carry on," Monty added. "Unless we give the Council irrefutable evidence that Iolas is up to bad shit."
"Which we don’t have."
"So I’ll keep diggin’."
"Cheers bro. I might have something in the pipeline, though, now that you mention it."
Monty’s eyes widened as I told him about the visit I paid to the century with Dalia and Davey. "Jayzus Christ. You dug up your own ma?"
I shook my head at him. "Don’t say it like that, for fuck’s sake. I did what I had to do, that’s all there is to it."
"I’ll say one thing for you, bro. You don’t do things by halves."
"Anyway, hopefully Davey will turn something up."
"And if he does? What then?"
I rested the back of my head against the couch as I thought for a moment. "Then I do what has to be done again."
Monty shook his head as if the whole thing was becoming too heavy for him, especially with his apparent hangover. "You talking about killin' somebody… for real? Killin' Iolas or whoever it turns out killed your ma? That’s a whole different level, bro, I mean…" He trailed off as if he couldn’t fathom the idea of murder.
"Whatever happens, it’ll be on me," I told him. "You don’t have to worry."
"Feck off, will you?" He shook his head almost in anger. "You think I’d let you deal with this shite alone? I won’t."
That right there is why I love Monty. I knew he’d always put himself on the line for me, no matter what. "Let’s just see what happens. Maybe it won’t come to that."
"To killin'? I hope not, for your sake as much as mine."
As I stood up to go, I said, "Listen, there’s something else you can do for me."
"Name it, bro," Monty said, not moving from his position in his seat.
"Thirty years ago, a plane that left here to go to Switzerland crashed, probably a private jet. Is there any way you can find out the details surrounding the crash?"
Monty frowned. "What’s his about?"
"Iolas again. He had family on that plane, and I want to know what happened."
"Sure, bro, I’ll see what I can dig up. There should be records somewhere."
I clasped Monty’s hand before I left. "Do me another favor, will you?"
"What bro?"
"Don’t sleep with any more crazy witches."
Monty laughed. "You’re asking too much of me there, bro, but I’ll try…"
Chapter 21
The sun was beating down hard again as I walked down Parnell Street, having just left Monty’s and still chuckling to myself over the sticky situations he continually got himself into. Dick dialing the phone, I thought with a shake of my head. Classic.
As I was coming past the Rotunda Hospital, the oldest and continuously operating maternity hospital in the world (helping to churn out the youngest population of any European country), my thoughts inevitably turned to Iolas once again, and the question of his guilt. But before my mind got the chance to go around in circles as it always did, my thoughts were interrupted by a black Mercedes that pulled up alongside me. I ignored the car at first, continuing to walk until a voice said my name. Stopping, I saw that one of the darkened back windows of the car was down, and that a man was staring at me from inside. "Corvin Chance?"
I stared suspiciously at the man, who appeared to be alone in the back of the car. Dressed in a dark suit despite the hot weather, the stranger had short dark hair and appeared to be somewhere in his mid to late forties. He also spoke with an upper-class sounding English accent, overall coming across as some sort of businessman or politician. "Who’s asking?" I said.
"My name is Benedict Bonneville. I represent the Council. Can we talk?"
The Council, I thought. What the hell do they want?
"What about?"
He stared at me with striking blue eyes as if he knew what he was going to say would grab my attention, which it did. "Iolas Tasar."
I stared back at him a moment. "What about him?"
"Why don’t you get in so we can discuss it?"
After standing for another moment, I went to the car and got inside, figuring it couldn’t hurt to see what this man wanted. If nothing else, I’d be able to at least find out exactly where the Council stood as regards Iolas.
"How did you find me?" I asked as the car, driven by another man in a dark suit, pulled off.
Benedict Bonneville smiled. "Really? You’re asking a wizard that question?"
"Fair enough. Where are we going?"
"It’s a lovely day, so I thought we could take a stroll around St. Stephen’s Green, or we could stay in the car, it’s up to you."
"The park is fine."
He smiled. "Good, I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve been stuck in planes and cars all bloody day."
Benedict seemed like a fairly easy-going individual, but I could also tell he was sharp as a tack and probably a highly competent wizard as well. The Council wasn’t in the habit of promoting incompetence, so I assumed Benedict was one of their best and brightest, which made me wonder exactly what he was doing here. He seemed in no
rush to explain himself, however.
"Lovely city you have here," he said as he looked out the darkened windows. "So much history, just like London."
"I know London well."
He turned his head to smile at me. "I know you do."
When he looked away again, I shook my head. Was he implying that I was being watched or something? The feeling made me uncomfortable, and I was glad when the car finally pulled up in Grafton Street and we got out, heading through the granite Fusilier’s Arch on our way into the park, which was said to be modeled on the Arch of Titus in Rome.
"So," I said, breathing slightly easier now that we were outside. "What’s all this about? You mentioned Iolas Tasar. What about him?"
"It’s peaceful in here, isn’t it?" he said as we walked by the park’s large lake, the surface like glass, disturbed only by the ducks and other water fowl that paddled gently across it. "I love city parks, they’re like an oasis, aren’t they, offering relief from the busy city streets. Did you frequent many parks while you were in London?"
"You tell me. You seem to know a lot about my movements."
Benedict smiled as he walked with his hands in his trouser pockets. "It’s my job to know what goes in my city, especially amongst the Touched."
"So why are you here in Dublin and not London?"
"Because the Council sent me here, and I go where they tell me to go."
"Is this about my mother?"
He gave me a sympathetic look, seeming very tall as he walked beside me. "I knew your mother well. Her death was a sad loss."
"Her murder, you mean."
"Yes, her murder."
"Not that the Council did much about it."
"I understand your frustration," he said as we approached the park’s open heath, which has always had groups of students dotted all over it as they lazed in the mid-day sun.
"I don’t think you do. The Council did nothing to find out who killed her, even though they probably know full well who was responsible."