Shadow Underground: A Romantic Urban Fantasy Murder Mystery (The Shadow Series Book 3)

by Candice Bundy

He grinned. “I know.”

  Quinn turned to her. “Ready to drive around town for a couple of hours looking at brick patterns until you can’t see straight?”

  Becka shook her head. “Nope, but let’s do it.”

  Chapter 22

  Two hours later Becka was knocking on the door of a sprawling Tudor-style estate in the heart of Cherry Hills Village. She rubbed her temples as a dull ache built up at the base of her skull.

  “Tired from looking at brick walls all morning?” Quinn asked. Andre was back near their vehicle pacing back and forth, preferring to keep an eye on the street while they were inside.

  “Yes, definitely. Maybe I’d feel differently if I’d been able to match with any of the locations you showed me. But this headache is more. I’m guessing there’s a lot of magic in this house.”

  “Have you considered you’re pulling yourself in too many directions?” Quinn asked, taking Becka aback.

  “Impossible. I’d be fine if there wasn’t a psychopath after me.”

  He did that thing where he dipped his chin down and then flicked his gaze up at her, arching his brow. “Even without Mimir, you’d still have a lot on your plate. You don’t have to take on the entire world at once, you know?”

  “What can I say? There isn’t anything I’m willing to give up. Besides, I have a big plate.”

  He shook his head, a mirthful crease in the corners of his eyes.

  The front door swung open, revealing a petite young man in an all-black uniform. He couldn’t have been a day over twenty, but his bearing and posture made Becka think he’d been serving in this role for at least a few years.

  “I’m Becka Rowan, here for Mrs. Taylor.”

  “Indeed, you are, Lady,” he replied, using her honorific even though Becka hadn’t provided it. He didn’t appear surprised by her enforcer garb or concerned with Quinn’s presence, so perhaps Maura had included those details to their customer this time. “If you would follow me around to the side yard? They are waiting for you there.”

  Becka stepped back from the door. “Lead on.”

  The young man locked the front door, and then led them along a cobblestone path through a well-manicured yard to an arched door in a tall brick wall. He passed his hand over the keypad, and then opened the door for them, ushering them through. They’d filled this side with one of those flower gardens which was obviously designed to look like it grew in perfect order with no effort, but she knew that such a naturalized look only happened with lots of effort.

  They continued along a cobblestone path until the foliage parted, revealing a trio of women sitting around a patio table sipping tea. Two of the women were a surprise, but Becka knew them well. The older, regal woman she assumed was Mrs. Taylor.

  “Lady Becka Rowan,” the young man announced her arrival to the trio. He didn’t bother to introduce Quinn.

  “It’s so nice to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Taylor,” Becka said. “Lady Hawthorne, Lady Astrid, it’s good to see you both again.”

  Hanna Hawthorne’s scowl could have stripped the color off the blushing roses behind her. Mrs. Taylor’s dubiously pursed lips questioned if Becka was up to the task. At least Astrid was happy to see her. Mrs. Taylor was clad in a lavender silk robe and matching slippers, her long, honey-brown hair hanging loose over her shoulders. She had a sort of timeless, tranquil beauty paired with an indomitable poise.

  She was the type of woman that Becka immediately sensed should never be crossed.

  “Becka, please call me Amelia,” Mrs. Taylor said, her keen gaze appraising Becka. “It seems you come both highly and poorly recommended.”

  Becka shrugged. “Everyone’s got to start somewhere. What can I do for you today?”

  “Tristan, I won’t be needing you for a bit. Please fly away,” Amelia said to the young man, waving her fingers at him. He gave a slight bow and then turned and strode off in the house's direction.

  Becka was used to wealth amongst the fae and assumed this level of subservience among humans surely equated to a commensurate level of wealth.

  “Here on the table are nondisclosure agreements I’ll need for you each to sign. Even you, Enforcer Quinn.”

  That Amelia had known who Quinn was on sight didn’t surprise her. No doubt this woman had dossiers on everyone who came into her orbit.

  “Nondisclosure?” Becka asked, but came forward to sign as requested. First the enforcers, now this rich lady. Did Becka need to get a nondisclosure form too?

  “I need legal recourse in case you don’t honor our agreement to keep these proceedings confidential. These state that whatever you see here today you won’t repeat to anyone, ever. Will that be a problem for any of you?”

  Becka shook her head.

  “Not at all,” Quinn replied, flashing Amelia one of his winning smiles as he signed her agreement.

  “Aren’t you a charmer? You have good taste in bodyguards,” Amelia said.

  Becka’s cheeks heated. Was Amelia flirting with Quinn? “What can I do for you, Amelia?”

  “You’re going to let that one slide, eh? Very well.” She shrugged and turned to Astrid. “Lady Astrid recommended I bring you in.”

  Astrid rose and came to stand near Becka. Instead of her usual red gown, she wore tailored forest green pants with a flowing, pale green blouse. She’d never encountered Astrid at work in the city, and it was a bit odd to see her out of her standard, preferred attire. “Thank you for coming, my dear. I’ve been Amelia’s illusionist for many decades now.”

  “Tsk, tsk, no giving away my secrets, Astrid.”

  Astrid laughed. “Oh Amelia, didn’t I sign your NDA on parchment, back in the day?”

  Becka worried Amelia would take it wrong, but the flinty-eyed woman laughed. “Indeed, you did.”

  Becka wasn’t sure if they were joking or being honest.

  “Anyway, I thought, with your Null ability, that I could up my game for Amelia by creating a blank slate for her maintenance treatments.”

  “Oh,” Becka said, catching on. “You mean a magical facelift?”

  Amelia laughed again. “Not just my face, but yes.”

  Becka felt her eyebrows hit maximum. “Oh. Oh!”

  “The challenge to you, Becka,” Astrid continued, “is avoiding the non-illusionist magic Amelia has installed.”

  What the what? “Installed?”

  “I have certain subcutaneous implants that serve as anchors for various health maintenance enchantments.”

  “Huh. I mean, why wouldn’t you?” Becka replied.

  Amelia nodded. “I like your niece, Astrid.”

  “She has her moments,” Astrid said. “Will you be able to differentiate between the different magics?”

  Becka gave a decisive nod. “Of course. Shall we get started?”

  “Such confidence. Or is it hubris?” Hanna snapped.

  Amelia looked back and forth between Hanna and Becka, as if she was waiting, or hoping, for fireworks to break out. Becka wasn’t about to rise to Hanna’s bait and instead kept a passive smile plastered on her face. Becka would prove herself without stressing herself out.

  “I didn’t expect this to be so amusing.” Amelia stood up and walked over. “Do you need me to disrobe?”

  “What? No!” Becka exclaimed. “Please keep your robe on.”

  Amelia shrugged and re-tied her robe. “Suit yourself. What do you need me to do?”

  “Just stand there,” Becka said, moving closer to Amelia.

  Hanna stood too, and soon Becka felt surrounded. “Can everyone but Amelia take a couple of steps back?”

  “Are you afraid you’ll lose control?” Hanna asked.

  “No, I feel like I need a little more space to concentrate.”

  “Do as she asks,” Amelia said, which Hanna promptly did. “And please keep quiet. I’m the one with the investment here.”

  Once everyone had backed off and settled, Becka bent the full force of her concentration to the task, at first holding her hands a f
ew centimeters away from Amelia’s shoulders, and then roving up and down her form.

  Amelia’s enchantments were layered like an onion, overlapping in places, with vortexes of energy around pinpoint locations in her body. Becka recognized her Aunt Astrid’s work, but there were other, different illusory threads which had a unique style altogether.

  Becka looked up at Amelia. Just how much work had she done, and why?

  “Is everything okay?” Amelia asked, taken aback.

  “You have a lot going on in here.”

  Amelia smiled and gave a knowing nod. “You bet I do. Be careful, right?”

  “Of course.” Becka redoubled her focus. “I’m going to start,” she said, and Amelia gave her a stiff nod.

  First, Becka snuffed out the illusory elements that she recognized as Astrid’s. Bit by bit, Amelia aged in front of her. Her hair grayed and frizzed. The sheen of her eyes dulled. Her cheeks and breasts sagged. Wrinkles and age spots surfaced like a map of her past life experiences covering her skin.

  When the scars appeared on Amelia’s exposed legs, Becka did her best to keep her face neutral. As she continued to work, burn marks surfaced on Amelia’s hands along with brilliant white scars across the skin of her neck. This woman had been through hell more than a few times. Becka’s appreciation of her mettle ratcheted up another few notches.

  Doing another pass of Amelia’s body, Becka paused at her left hip. “Here in your hip there’s an implant, I think? It’s got illusion components and some Oak’s earth strength and some of Birch’s healing threads.” They’d layered the energies, one on top of the other, making the illusion impossible for Becka to reach without forcing her way through the healing layer.

  “Oh, yes, dear, leave that one alone. It’s my hip replacement. I had them add an illusion to hide it from scans.”

  “Fancy.” Becka wanted to ask why, but figured that wasn’t any of her business, so she just nodded and moved on, her hands coming to rest over Amelia’s chest. “You have another implant here, near your heart?”

  “I call it my everlasting ticker,” Amelia said. “With it, I never get tired. I bet I could even run a marathon if I chose to. Not that I’m running unless there are macarons to be had.”

  Becka sensed the energy, looking for threads of illusion which might remain around the implant. Instead, she recognized an interweaving of enchantments completely distinct from the magic in Amelia’s hip. This work reminded her of Mimir’s totems.

  “Who did the work?” Becka asked.

  Amelia’s eyes narrowed. “I believe that’s outside the scope of our work here today.”

  Becka dropped her hands to her sides and took a couple of steps back. “I’m done stripping you of illusory magic, but, as an enforcer, I need to know more about your ticker.”

  Quinn returned to her side. “What did you sense?”

  “Amelia’s heart enhancement has a distinctive flair. The way the magic is woven together, a Shadow-Dweller likely did it,” Becka said. What she didn’t say was she thought she recognized the work as Mimir’s.

  “Impressive,” Astrid mumbled to herself.

  “Oh, not this again?” Hanna interjected. “Must you seek your boogeymen in everything?”

  Becka held up a hand, as if that would stop her attitude. If House Hawthorne needed to believe Shadow-Dwellers weren’t real to maintain their pride, so be it. “They are quite real, Hanna,” she replied, but Hanna just rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Amelia knows that whoever did this enhancement wasn’t a typical fae?”

  Amelia crossed her arms, quite formidable despite her sudden aging.

  “I will point out we’re seeking someone with this sort of ability in a murder investigation,” Quinn added.

  Amelia dropped her arms, her hands landing on her hips. “I remember. You’re right. It was a fae of singular talent. I’ve never met one like her before, or since. I had to donate a significant sum just to get her contact number. But I don’t even know her name.”

  “Do you still have the number?” Quinn asked.

  “Well, yes, but I had this done a couple of decades ago, so I’m not sure it would be helpful. But, on second thought, it’s likely the organization persists. I had the feeling they had a long and broad reach.”

  “It might. The bureau would appreciate your help,” Quinn added.

  “They’d better.” Amelia walked back over to the table, picked up her tablet, and was lost in it for a minute. She then tore off a scrap of paper from one of the nondisclosure agreements, jotted down a number, and then handed it to Quinn.

  “I’ll make sure the chief sends you her personal thanks,” Quinn replied, flashing Amelia a smile.

  Becka didn’t think of herself as a jealous person, so the flash of possessive agitation that ran through her was a surprise. She shook it off, focusing on the job at hand. “Do you need anything else from me?”

  “No, my dear,” Astrid replied, beaming at her. “You’re free to get on with your day.”

  “It was good to meet you, Mrs. Taylor,” Becka said.

  “It was entertaining to meet you, Becka. And a pleasure to meet you, Enforcer Quinn. I trust we’ll see you around. Now Astrid, shall we get to work?”

  “Yes, and I will need you to disrobe so I may be comprehensive.”

  Becka had Quinn by the elbow and headed out of the garden before Amelia’s robe hit the chair.

  Quinn rumbled out a laugh. “Why Becka, are you jealous?”

  “Of old Amelia? That would be ridiculous.”

  Quinn arched a brow at her, his knowing smile telling her he didn’t buy it.

  “I am ridiculous sometimes,” Becka said, subtly admitting her ire. “Even when I know it’s ridiculous.”

  When they reached the street, Hanna caught up to them on the sidewalk.

  “A moment, Becka,” came Hanna’s angry voice.

  Becka stopped and turned to face Hanna, the guilt she felt every time they interacted gripping her gut. “You witnessed today. I didn’t screw anything up.”

  Hanna held her chin high. “You know I’ll keep witnessing your work, Becka. I thought you’d like to know I’m going to report your misuse of your ‘enforcer duties’ to drag privileged information out of Mrs. Taylor.”

  “Do whatever you feel you need to, Hanna.”

  A car slowed down as it passed them and then sped off. She glanced at Quinn, who’d also noticed but shook his head. It might have meant something, but it wasn’t clearly a threat.

  Becka looked back at Hanna, a fresh concern welling in her thoughts. “I want to warn you, the Shadow-Dwellers are real and are hunting fae.” Not that Hanna had powers, but Lydia hadn’t either. “You should be careful.”

  Hanna gasped. “Is that a threat?”

  Becka held up her hands. “No, no, of course not. I’m worried about you. I’m asking you to be extra careful. Maybe return home to House Hawthorne for a few weeks?”

  Hanna turned to Quinn. “She’s losing her mind, you know that. I’m writing it up in my report but get her the help she needs.” She turned to Becka. “But I’m not going anywhere. It’s too important that I keep an eye on you.”

  “The Shadow-Dweller threat is real, Hanna,” Quinn replied, his face grave.

  “So you’re both crazy? I suppose that’s why you’re flirting with each other. I’ll write that up too.” She turned and stomped down the street.

  Becka looked after Hanna, flummoxed. “I can’t get her to see reason.”

  Quinn wrapped an arm around Becka, turning them towards the car. “She’s still wounded from losing her powers. I’m sure in time she’ll lose interest.”

  “I hope so.”

  They’d walked a few feet when Becka heard a noise behind them. She glanced back, but nothing was amiss. “Did you see where Hanna went?”

  Quinn looked back and then shook his head. “No. She could have turned the corner, or crossed the street. Come on,” he said, breaking into a jog. Becka kept the pace, and in a few seconds th
ey reached the corner.

  Becka looked both ways, but there was no Hanna. “She’s not here, Quinn.”

  Quinn got on the phone. “I need a couple of units to canvas the Cherry Hills neighborhood for a Hanna Hawthorne. Call her phone, contact her house, and the fae embassy. We need to know where she is, ASAP.”

  He hung up the phone and turned to her. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said, taking Becka by the elbow.

  “But Hanna?”

  “We likely just missed her passage. I’ve called in other enforcers to check, but if someone did abduct her, then we need to get you out of here.”

  Becka nodded, worried about Hanna. “You think most likely she’s okay?”

  “We’ll find out.”

  Once they were back in the car, Becka pulled an orange out of her bag and peeled it, offering slices to both Andre and Quinn.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Becka said. “When I was in Mimir’s club, none of the window frames hanging on the walls were functional. I’d missed that detail. I can’t remember even one with glass in it.”

  “You’re saying the building had no windows?” Quinn asked.

  “That’s right. What if Mimir’s underground club is, well, underground?”

  Quinn ran a hand through his hair. “I bet that’s the piece we’ve been missing.”

  “What’s next?”

  “I’ll have Ted run the number Mrs. Taylor gave us, and I’ll have Nikkita send us an updated listing of brick buildings near or in downtown with basements. There are still tunnels under parts of downtown, so we’ll draw up maps of those to correlate with potential locations. We’ll have time to look at those buildings before your panel appointment at the institute.”

  “Thrilling,” Becka replied, popping another orange slice in her mouth.

  Quinn picked up his phone and called the bureau.

  “Says the lady who’s new to detective work,” Andre said, holding out his hand for another slice.

  “I can’t wait to learn what other new and exciting monotony awaits me.”

  In a few minutes, Quinn’s call was over, and he pulled up a new picture of brick on the dashboard display. “Looks like Nikkita’s picks are already rolling in.” He programmed in a location and set the car on autopilot.