by Amir Lane
I pressed my heels to the floor to keep from bouncing my leg.
“Kieron, I can be ready to go before you even hear from them,” I said. “I know this case better than anybody, you know that. I know the Black Birches.”
“Time is a factor, here.” Finín reminded us.
“Nobody’s talking to you, Flor. What’ll Ariadne say?” Kieron asked.
I hesitated, and he raised his eyebrows as if to say, Exactly.
“She wouldn't be happy, but she'd understand it's something I have to do.”
Would she, though? My being a cop was stressful enough for her as it was. One of the few consolations she had was that at least I came home every night. This would only be for a few days. At most, it would be for a week.
A lot can happen in a week.
But that didn't mean anything would happen.
Kieron rubbed a hand over his face. “Luckily, it's not my call. You'll have to take that up with Inspector Beaupré. We have a meeting with her now.”
“Now?” I balked a little. “Right now?”
It couldn’t be right now. I needed time to make a case for myself. I needed to put together a proper argument to convince her.
I followed Kieron and Finín to the elevator. We were only going two floors up, but I didn't want to be the one to suggest the stairs. Indira flashed me twin thumbs up and grinned. I tried to smile but it came out flat.
The worst thing she will do is tell you no.
Which would be a very bad thing if we couldn't get anyone else to go undercover. I couldn't let this opportunity for answers slip away. We couldn’t let it slip away.
Sabine’s new office was a slightly larger version of her old one. There was nothing personal about it except for a single picture frame beneath one of her monitors that I knew had a picture of her dog, a bloodhound named Gringoire. Her stony face was stern as ever, but I thought I caught the start of a smile on her lips as she regarded us. It was gone as quickly as it came as she nodded to Finín.
“Officer Quinn,” she said in a gravely French accent.
“Inspector Beaupré. Pleasure to meet you.”
Sabine gave another nod and turned her attention to me. “When's the last time you went undercover?”
The question was so sudden, it almost gave me whiplash. It felt like there was an entire conversation that hadn’t happened. Even though Kieron must have filled her in on the situation, I’d expected more small talk. It was nice to see that her short time as an inspector hadn’t changed her. She was just as to the point as ever. Kieron had clearly filled her in.
“A year and a half,” I said, “when I worked in Homicide. I trained for undercover work.”
My barriers made me a good candidate for it. The fact that they were partly reflexive was a good selling point where safety was concerned, and I said so now.
“The prison will block that,” Kieron said. “You won't have access to your powers, the iron will shut it down.”
I hesitated. The fact that iron didn't slow me down as much as silver wasn't well-known, especially since I wore a couple silver rings. The small bands on my middle ring finger knuckles weren't enough to stop my powers any more than wearing earphones without music playing would stop my hearing.
“If I'm pushed enough, I should be able to break through the iron,” I said slowly. When Sabine’s eyes narrowed at me, I added, “European and Arab magics are not the same kind of— of energy.”
I didn't know how to explain it in English. There were countless theories about the origin of magic in humans, why some had it and why some didn't. In Europe, they said magic came from faeries, who were sensitive to iron. Back home, we said it came from certain kinds of ‘demons’ like djinn. The principle was the same, but the specific origins were different. I wasn't sure about other places. Because North America was so Euro-centric, most information available here was European, which meant most people only considered European magic.
“So what does slow you down?” Finín asked curiously.
I hesitated again. Sabine and Kieron, I could trust. I'd worked with them long enough for that. But Finín, I didn't know. Who knew what Interpol could do with that information?
He seemed to read my reluctance. He raised one hand and placed the other on his chest.
“It won't leave the room. Scout’s honour. I’ll make a blood oath if you need. I’m sure there’s a blood witch around here?”
Kieron trusted this man. That meant I could trust him, too. I had to. If he was willing to make a blood oath…
“Silver. Pure silver. If it's cut with anything, it won't work as well.” I held my hands up as Sabine opened her mouth, presumably to ask about my silver rings. “These aren't big enough to do much.”
“Like werewolves,” Finín said.
I shrugged. “Werewolves originated in the Middle East.”
Kieron made a hm sound that suggested that was news to him. It was always news to people. Vampires, even though they were extinct now, had originated in the Middle East, too.
Sabine took her thin, wire-rimmed glasses off and folded them on her desk, then leaned forward.
“Everyone in this room, except maybe Officer Quinn, knows that if we tell you no, it won't stop you doing something stupid. What concerns me is how many people in that prison might know you. Corrections officers, people you've arrested. I do agree that with this short notice, you are the best option. But your powers won't save you from being recognized.”
Sabine was right, on both counts. None of the ideas that came to mind, stupid or otherwise, could help me get around the fact that I would almost definitely be recognized. I didn't think I was doing as good a job at keeping the disappointment off my face as I wanted to. It wasn't even about me going undercover. If there was anybody else who could do it, I would be satisfied. But there wasn't, and probably wouldn't be before Audra Jansons was gone.
Kieron took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I might actually be able to help with that,” he said. “Or, I know someone who can. He's not partial to helping cops, but he likes Rowan. I think he'll do it for him.”
“Who is that?” Sabine asked.
“My nephew. You know the one.”
I was pretty sure Kieron only had the one nephew, and everybody did know him.
Sabine nodded. “If he can do what we need, I don't think we have many other choices. Bringing down the Black Birches is important, not just for Rowan, but for the city. Be ready.”
I’d said before that I’d never known of a djinni so far up north as Toronto. That was mostly true. I knew of two. The first was the djinni Rowan and I had gone after during our first case together.
The other was Raisa Karim, and she was my ex-girlfriend. She was from Syria and she was the only djinni I actually knew personally. Our relationship had been short-lived and intense, which summed up everything about her.
She’d only been in Canada for one whirlwind summer far before I’d met Ariadne. I still remembered when she told me she was going back, leaning casually against the bar and speaking as though it didn't matter, as though she was telling me she was considering bleaching her hair. She was the last person I expected to see lounging against the reception desk on the main floor in a suit that was far too hot for this time of year.
I stopped dead in my tracks. I’d worked a 12-hour shift, and it took far too long for my brain to process what I was seeing.
“Raisa?”
“Fairuz!” She straightened up and ran in her ridiculously high heels that no human woman could run in to throw her arms around me. She still smelled like sweet ash. When she spoke, it was in a quick rush of Arabic.
“Oh, my God, how long has it been! You look so amazing. When I heard you said no to all those law schools to become a police officer, I was so worried. But look at you!”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, too surprised to be tactful.
“You know I work with the Ambassador’s office.
We have some meetings in town over the next couple weeks. I can't really say more about it.” She waved a manicured hand dismissively. “I didn't know you worked here!”
Her energy and the delicate melody of her voice had always been so easy to get pulled into. I tried to focus on the clatter of her bracelets and the array of gold earrings that her whispy hair passed through. It was all so dizzying.
“I've worked in this precinct for a bit more than a year now.”
“That's so exciting!” She grabbed my hands and looked them over. “Not married yet? Please tell me you aren't still single.”
“I have a girlfriend. We're not engaged yet but— soon, hopefully.”
She clapped her hands together excitedly. A headache began to form in the centre of my forehead. Had she been this animated when we'd dated?
“That’s so wonderful! What’s her name? You must have been together for a while to be thinking about engagement. Oh, I’m so happy for you! Let me take you two out for dinner!”
I was struggling to keep my eyes open. I barely even wanted to eat today, let alone go to some undoubtedly expensive restaurant full of people, especially since I had to talk to Ariadne first. It wasn’t a conversation I could put off. The call from Sabine telling us we were ready to go could come at any moment. That wasn't a talk to be had in public, even if a crowd would stop Ariadne from throttling me.
“Tonight is not good. You said you're here for two weeks? Next week is better.”
This would all be over by then, one way or another. Raisa plugged her number into my phone and gave my cheek another kiss before running off to hug someone else she recognized.
Ariadne was already home when I walked in, greeting me with the smell of sizzling chicken. It barely drowned out the scent of Raisa’s perfume still clinging to my hair. The novelty of having a whole kitchen mostly to herself still hadn't worn off. That was fine by me. She enjoyed cooking far more than I did.
I set my messenger bag down near the front door and made my way to the kitchen. She turned at the creak of laminate floors and smiled. Warmth filled my stomach.
I didn't deserve her.
She didn't deserve what I'd put her through in March, and she didn't deserve what I was about to put her through now. If she walked out on me, I wouldn't blame her.
“How was work?” she asked, oblivious to the dull ache in my chest.
I leaned against the wall, watching her back as she worked over the stove. Her hair was tied up, as it usually was, showing off the bird tattoo on the back of her neck. It occurred to me that I'd never had a favourite animal before, but if somebody asked me today, I would say birds. Raisa had been fun, but Ariadne was home.
“Good. I have a lead on Rowan. There's someone in prison who works for the Black Birches who might know where he is.”
“That's great!” She turned her head, and her smile fell when she saw my expression. “Why isn't that great?”
“She's being deported back to Latvia soon. She won't talk to cops and no undercover officers are available. So—”
“No. You're not doing it.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I have to.”
“No you don't. There will be another chance. There will be someone else.”
Her voice wavered a little. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her.
“It won't be more than a week. I owe it to Rowan. If I hadn't pushed so hard with those murders—”
“Fairuz, none of what happened is even remotely your fault. His family sold him. He was screwed way before he even met you.”
Ariadne’s hands cupped my cheeks. I flinched a little, not expecting it. When I opened my eyes, she was right in front of me. She usually left her bangs down, but they were pinned up today. There was a scar from a broken bottle along her hairline. I wanted to kiss it. I wanted to take her pain away, not add to it. I was the worst girlfriend on the planet.
“He's my best friend,” I whispered. “He has nobody else.”
“What about his girlfriend?”
I shook my head. “She's still missing, too.”
“She—”
I held her wrists, just firmly enough to keep her from pulling away from me but not so hard that she couldn't do it if she really wanted to. I didn’t want her to pull away. What I wanted — needed — was her to wrap her arms around me and promise it would all be okay. It wasn’t a promise anybody could make, let alone keep. I didn’t care. Even if it wasn’t true, I needed to believe it.
“They're evil people, Ariadne,” I whispered. “They're monsters. All of them. Maybe I can't stop them, maybe I can't do anything, but I can at least make life harder for them. Please.”
That was something she had said on one of our first dates. It was why she became a medical examiner instead of working in a hospital. Because there would always be evil, but she didn't have to make it easy for them. It was the same reason I'd turned down all those law schools and entered the police academy. I needed her to be okay with this. If she wasn't, I wouldn't be able to do it. Deep down, I knew that. It was her decision.
Slowly, very slowly, she nodded.
“But if anything — and I mean anything — happens to you, I'll find Rowan myself and kick his ass.”
I laughed and pressed my forehead against hers. I was never going to deserve her.
“If this doesn't work, that'll be a good backup plan.”
She wrapped her arms around me, and we held each other until the chicken started to burn. When her back was turned, I took the opportunity to check my phone. There was a text message from Kieron.
It's happening.
Chapter Five
Elias Harper didn't look much like his uncle. Even though I'd met him once before and even though Kieron had several pictures of him on his desk, it still caught me off guard. Somehow, I was still expecting someone who looked exactly like Kieron, or who at least shared more than their auburn hair. Even there, Kieron’s hair was cut short while Elias’ hung in twin braids over his shoulders.
He'd chattered a bit about his native ancestry last time we'd met. It was a whole, long story that I only partly remembered. His father was Kieron’s older brother, who'd settled farther north to work in some mines. He and Elias’ mother had died young, and Elias had been mostly raised by her father. It was only when he was a teenager that Kieron even found out he existed. When his grandfather passed, Elias had gone to live with Kieron’s step-sister. It was like something out of the Egyptian dramas my mom liked to watch.
Elias grinned when we stepped into the computer repair shop he owned about 45 minutes out of Toronto, and I saw the resemblance to Kieron in the way it made his eyes crinkle.
“Hey, auntie!” he greeted, crossing the small shop to meet us.
I groaned a little.
“I'm not old enough to be anyone's auntie. Especially not yours.”
His grin was infectious. He pulled Kieron into a massive hug, standing on his toes a little to do it. I tried not to notice that his feet were bare. It was his shop. I supposed he could dress however he wanted. He turned to me with his fist outstretched.
“Hug or fist bump?” he asked.
I wasn't sure what the right answer was, so I tapped my fist against his. He grinned again and tipped his head to me.
“So what are we doing? Blocking ID, right? Piece of cake. Well, no, it's complicated as fuck. But I can do it. Phones, please. Anything electronic.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sale,” Kieron muttered, but he did pull his cell phone from his pocket and hand it to Elias.
When he nodded to Kieron’s Fitbit, Kieron undid the clasp and handed that to him, too. I did the same with both my personal and work phone. I didn't like him having my phones, but I didn't see the harm. He placed the items in a small box and waved his hand over it. His eyes glowed green, just for a moment, and the box shimmered.
“He's paranoid,” Kieron explained dryly, “and a little bit bipolar.”
“Those aren't actually related, and I’m borderline
bipolar. And it's not paranoia if it's for a legit reason. You guys are cops, and not everything I do here is strictly legal.”
“What?” I turned to Kieron. “He's joking, right?’
“It's not strictly illegal. There are massive grey areas with this shit,” Elias said.
This was starting to seem like a mistake. If he was actually doing something wrong, would Kieron do anything about it? Would I? ’Wrongness’ was a bit of an arbitrary scale, wasn't it?
Who was I kidding? If he helped us shut down the Black Birches and find Rowan, I'd let him get away with anything short of murder. I might even let him get away with murder.
Elias paced to the back room with long, confident strides, motioning with one hand for us to follow. I walked ahead of Kieron, my curiosity getting the better of me. Plus, I had a barrier warming beneath my skin if something came at us. I didn't know what I was supposed to expect, and Elias wasn’t the only paranoid one. I’d walked into more than enough volatile situations to not be ready, especially when I didn't even have a bulletproof vest or my Smith and Wesson for protection.
The back room looked much like any back storeroom I'd ever been in. The shelves lining the walls were covered in broken electronics, everything from cell phones to VCRs. I thought I even saw a broken overhead projector, the kind that worked with transparent sheets. It had been a while since I'd seen one of those. We followed him to a shelf on wheels that he slid out of the way, and my step faltered.
This was what I'd been expecting from a hex witch.
There were more shelves, but these were filled with jars of herbs and liquids of various colours. I wasn't sure what was inside the fridge wedged into the corner, and I didn't think I wanted to know. Logically, I knew it was probably food. I still couldn't shake the mental image of eyes of newt and legs of frogs. Spellwork wasn’t really like that, was it?
The shelf to Elias’ left held bowls and chalices of various sizes. A set of daggers sat in a stand shaped like a skull. He grabbed one of the smaller bowls and one of the daggers, handing me both.