Moonshine: Phantom Queen Book 11—A Temple Verse Series (The Phantom Queen Diaries)

by Shayne Silvers

  “Oh, no. I’m not here about your case.”

  They both relaxed.

  “I’m actually here for Hilde.”

  “For me?” Hilde asked, her glacial blue eyes narrowed to slits. “Why?”

  “The short answer? Freya sent me.”

  Before Hilde could freak out or start asking me all sorts of questions, I proceeded to give them both an extremely truncated summary of the events which had led me to Fólkvangr. Then, in much greater detail, I described what happened while I was there—including the deal I’d made to find and return Freya’s wayward Valkyrie. Of course, I may have left out one or two potentially prickly details that I thought might unfairly prejudice Brynhildr’s daughter. When I was finally done, however, I held out both hands in supplication.

  “Please, Hilde, I need ye to come with me. Once Freya hears what happened to ye from your own lips, she’ll have to honor her promise. After that, I can go back to Boston without this hangin’ over me head.”

  “I refuse,” Hilde replied, her tone so chilly it made me want to hug myself for warmth.

  “Ye what?” I blinked owlishly at the Valkyrie, unable to process her outright dismissal. “What the hell d’ye mean, ye refuse?”

  “I mean I will not go to Asgard with you.”

  “But, if ye don’t…” I left the rest unspoken.

  “You made a foolish promise, Quinn MacKenna. There are things you do not know. Reasons why I am here, why I left her service, that I cannot share.” Hilde slid around her side of the bed, her expression implacable and unyielding. “We have a case to solve. With Leo in the hospital, that means I am in charge. You should go home and be with your friends with the time you have left. I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes.”

  And, with that, the key to my freedom stormed out of the room.

  Chapter 21

  I found myself staring at the hospital room walls. They were two-toned; white as bone on top, the bottom a maddening shade of butterscotch that was clearly meant to compliment the mustard yellow curtains and lemon-tinted pillowcases. The furniture was a collection of those functional Scandinavian pieces which never ceased to remind me of a dentist’s office. A clock on the wall told me it was a little past two in the afternoon, which meant the Hex Moon was now eight nights away. If we left now, I thought, Max could get a good five or six hours of sleep in the backseat before taking over.

  “You could have called,” Leo suggested, shattering the fraught silence Hilde had left behind. “It might have given Hilde a chance to think about it, or at least saved you some time.”

  “I didn’t have your number,” I explained. “I only found out where ye were from a mutual acquaintance of Jimmy’s who doesn’t like me much. I don’t even have me own phone. Or an apartment. Oh, and I’m flat broke until me bank says otherwise.”

  “Huh...want some Jell-O?” Leo asked. He snatched up a cup of cherry red gelatin from the nightstand and held it out to me. “They took the spoon, but I’m sure you know how to slurp it down.”

  “It’s like ridin’ a bike,” I muttered, accepting the cup graciously before slumping into the visitor’s chair, feeling so defeated I hardly noticed how the plastic upholstery clung to my thighs and back. “I really thought Hilde had gotten tricked by someone pretendin’ to be Odin, Leo. I was sure she’d want to go back, to clear t’ings up and find out who it was.”

  “I don’t know about any of that,” Leo confessed, clearly pitying me. “Hilde doesn’t talk about her past. It upsets her, which is probably why she reacted as strongly as she did. Did you say this person you made a deal with was a goddess?”

  “Freya, aye. She’s Odin’s wife.”

  “Could she have been lying to you?”

  Unfortunately, I’d already considered that. More than once, in fact, given the fact that her blessing hadn’t sheltered me from the worst Niflheim had to offer—not to mention Nevermore’s occasional wardrobe malfunctions. Frankly, I could make a case that Freya had failed to honor her side of our bargain. The trouble was, at the time it really had felt like she was telling the truth. That she’d wanted me to succeed.

  “It’s possible,” I admitted.

  “But you don’t think so.”

  I grunted as I peeled off the lid off the plastic cup, my stomach grumbling. “Am I that easy to read?”

  “If you are asking whether I can tell if you’re lying or not, I can. But that also means I know you didn’t come here with the wrong intentions. And knowing that makes a big difference.”

  “How so?” I asked as I slid one finger around the circumference of the cup’s interior to dislodge the gelatin. Standard Jell-O shot procedure. Funnily enough, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually had a drink. With Charon, maybe? The boatman had been the very definition of a functioning alcoholic.

  “Well, if you’d come here solely to save your own ass, then I’d have been hard pressed to talk to Hilde on your behalf. As things stand, however, I should at least be able to get her read on what this Freya is really after.”

  “Really? Ye would do that?” I stopped with the cup halfway to my lips, almost afraid to nurture the flicker of hope he’d just offered me.

  “If she says she won’t go,” Leo warned, “she won’t go. But, at her core, Hilde is a fiercely loyal person. You saved Lakota from the Carol Killer after she was taken. Then you went to Moscow with us to save her, putting yourself at great personal risk in the process. And you protected me, today, which I never properly thanked you for.”

  Suddenly it was my turn to look away in embarrassment. “It’s what friends do.”

  “Precisely my point. You’ve done right by us, and Hilde knows that. Which means, if you ask for her help, there is no doubt in my mind she’ll do what she can.”

  “Amen to that,” came a voice from the doorway.

  Thinking one of Watt’s people had come to finish what he’d started, I sat up so quickly the chair groaned in protest. Thankfully, I needn’t have worried; the speaker was clearly no friend of the sheriff’s. Unfortunately, it took me several breaths longer than I’d have liked to figure out how I knew that for sure.

  “Hiya, Quinn. Heard you broke Watt and nearly got us kicked off this case. And all before lunch. Where do you find the energy?”

  “Lakota?!”

  Under normal circumstances, I’d have taken the federal agent’s teasing in stride, even fired off a rib-tickler or two to make light of the situation. Something about beating cops for breakfast, probably. But, at that precise moment, I was too busy trying to scrape my jaw off the floor to crack a smile, let alone a joke.

  “In the flesh,” she replied, her snide little smirk an exact replica of the one she’d worn the very first day we met. But that’s where the similarities ended. Because everything else—from the frisky cut of her chin-length hair to the swell of her chest and hips—was different. Gone was the androgynous, baby-faced youth hiding beneath an ill-fitting suit, supplanted by a woman whose primary identifier would forever be exotic.

  “I’ll say.” I made a sweeping gesture towards her whole body. “I almost didn’t recognize ye.”

  Lakota shrugged in reply, baring a thin line of tanned midriff above a pair of black leather pants that might as well have been painted on. Not that her outfit was salacious. It wasn’t because Lakota wasn’t. If anything, the Native American woman exuded a hands-off-or-else vibe.

  “What did you find out?” Leo asked, clearly eager to move the conversation to other waters.

  “Hilde says I should let you rest,” Lakota replied. “I just came by to make sure you weren’t going to give up the ghost.”

  Leo cursed under his breath.

  “Of course, if you ordered me to tell you as my boss, I’d have no choice.” Lakota pulled both hands from her jacket pockets and threw them wide with a dramatic flourish. “Bureaucracy and all that.”

  “Oh, good point. Tell me what you found, and that’s an order.”

  “Gladly,” Lakota said, grin
ning. “So, still no word on the victim. Not that I expected Watt’s people to share intel. They’ve gone on record with the animal attack, so it’ll be on us to prove otherwise. Assuming we can be bothered.”

  “Not unless the evidence falls into our lap,” Leo confirmed. “I’m not going to waste resources looking for a killer who can drop bodies out of thin air. If it happens again, we’ll call in the Academy. Have their Justices sort it out.”

  “Heard.”

  “Well?” Leo cocked one eyebrow. “Is that all? Or did you actually have some good news to run by me, for once?”

  “Please. You thought I’d show up to your hospital room without a Get-Well gift?”

  “Go on, then.”

  “We caught a break with ATF. Seems like all our crime scenes line up with a route they found on an old bootlegger map.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Nope. Looks like there’s an improvised road that runs all the way through the Ozarks. Most of it is overland, but it’s got some underground sections we’d never have known about. Tunnels and what not.”

  Leo buried his head in his hands and groaned. “Jimmy is never going to let me hear the end of this one, is he?”

  “Maybe next time you won’t doubt him so much,” Lakota chastised, shaking her head at the senior agent. “If you’d have trusted his nose like you trust your ears, we might have figured this out sooner.”

  “He said he smelled strong alcohol, not booze. I assumed that meant a cleaning agent. Sue me.”

  “It probably won’t come to that,” Lakota teased. “Just buy him a beer when this is all over. Anyway, I’m still waiting for you to ask me about the good news.”

  “There’s more?”

  “Sure is. Guess what’s on the outskirts of town, up in the mountains?”

  “You know I hate it when you do this.”

  “Just guess.”

  “Come on, just tell me. I’m sitting over here with a head injury. I could be dying right this minute.”

  “You aren’t dying.” Lakota rolled her eyes. “But fine. How about a whole campsite’s worth of alleged bootleggers? ATF says they live in caravans. Been on their radar for a while, now, but no arrests. Quite the coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yeah…” Leo frowned so hard for a moment that I thought he might be having a stroke. “It’s not adding up, Lakota. We’ve got a dozen victims connected to this town, but not to each other. And I don’t see any of them having anything to do with bootlegging.”

  “It’s a lead, boss. I seem to remember some geezer telling me more than once that the whole picture only becomes clear once the puzzle is finished, and that the only part we can control is connecting as many pieces as we can.”

  “Sounds pretty damn smart, your geezer.”

  “He has his moments.”

  Leo cracked a smile. “You going to take a run at them, then?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “I want you to take Quinn with you.”

  “Me?” I asked, surprised. Up until now, the most I’d been able to do was follow their conversation. And even then, there were bits and pieces I couldn’t quite figure out.

  “Yes, you.”

  “Are you sure, Leo? No offense, Quinn. I tend to do my best work alone, that’s all.”

  “None taken. I get it.”

  “I’m sure,” Leo insisted. “I don’t want you out there alone on this one, not until we know more about what we’re dealing with. Hilde is going to want to stay and keep an eye on me, I’m sure. Plus, she and I need to talk. I’d have Jimmy go with you, but he tends to put people around here on edge.”

  “Uh huh.” Lakota’s expression soured, her reaction suggesting Midwestern hospitality hadn’t lived up to its reputation.

  “Yeah, I know,” Leo said. “Trust me. But we need something to keep the Bureau from pulling us off this one, and we don’t have time to waste. Besides, this way you can fill Quinn in on what’s going on. I don’t know how long she’ll be here, but maybe she’ll catch something we missed.”

  I glanced at the clock a second time. “I can tag along, but I have to be back and in bed before dark.”

  “A curfew, at your age?” Lakota teased. “Guess that explains the Jell-O.”

  “It’s a long story,” I drawled, nonplussed.

  “Something to do with that hole in your soul? Or are you trying to get back in time to cuddle up with that Pejuta Wicasa in the lobby? Not that I’m judging.”

  “The hole in me...wait, what was that ye called Max just now?”

  “Ah, so that’s his name. Jimmy didn’t seem to know it. Before we leave, remind me to send the two of them to get you a room in our hotel.”

  I felt my eyes threatening to fall out of their sockets at the thought of Jimmy and Max spending time together. What would they talk about? Shit, nevermind that, who would they talk about?

  Lakota took one look at my face and started laughing uproariously. “Come on, we’ll snag a coffee on the way. My treat.”

  Chapter 22

  I’d never seen a campsite full of caravans before. I’d seen a couple trailer parks over the years, mostly during business trips which required visiting the more remote regions of the country in search of some obscure relic. But ultimately, most parks mirrored your typical suburban subdivision; provided you substituted the single-family homes and two-car garages for camper vans and gravel driveways. Hell, Staten Island had one with nicer trailers than most people had homes—including tire to ceiling windows and water-resistant siding.

  This was nothing like that. Whereas trailers tended to hug the road in designated intervals, the bootlegger caravans—ranging all the way from stainless steel Airstreams to motorbikes with teardrop trailers in tow—formed a complete circle around the circumference of the campsite, making it all but impossible for anyone to enter unannounced. Which was presumably why Lakota and I remained in her rental car, watching the caravan owners from the relative seclusion of an overgrown side road.

  “We goin’ down there?” I asked, voice hushed.

  “We’re not in a library, and they can’t hear us,” Lakota remarked. “And that depends.”

  “On?”

  “Here, Leo texted me as I was leaving the hotel to say you might be needing these,” Lakota said, ignoring my question. She reached past me, opened the glovebox, and fished out a lanyard and a black leather wallet. “Don’t go flashing them unless someone asks, but they should hold up whenever you’re with us.”

  “What are they?”

  “This is a CAC card,” Lakota replied, pronouncing the acronym like I would say sack. “Don’t ask me what it stands for. I honestly have no idea.”

  She tossed the lanyard at me, and I discovered it had a thick plastic case attached at the end. Inside was a chip ID with my face printed on it, complete with my name below and a very official-looking Department of Homeland Security above. The wallet landed in my lap a moment later. Inside was a badge with DHS splashed across the front and what appeared to be a valid serial number at its base. For a moment, I could only stare at them.

  “Is this badge real?” I asked, stunned.

  “No idea. Never seen a DHS badge. And neither has anyone else, which is sort of the point. You can thank Leo for thinking ahead and getting these made. After Moscow, he thought it might be a good idea to make sure you had better credentials. Honestly, I had no idea he’d hung onto them this long, though. Guess he knew something we didn’t.”

  “After Moscow...” I drifted off, reminded of yet another friend I’d neglected since returning. Othello. These had to be her handiwork; they were too damn good to be run-of-the-mill forgeries. In fact, knowing her, the cover identity would probably stand up to a ridiculous amount of scrutiny before anyone was the wiser.

  “Everything alright?” Lakota asked, eyeing me.

  “Aye, just feelin’ like an ass is all.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Othello will be too glad you’re alive to thro
w a fit.”

  I shot her a look of surprise.

  “I’m a Seer, remember?”

  “I remember,” I replied, cautiously. The truth was, Lakota’s ability—far more so than any of the others’—bothered me. It was like, when she looked at you, she could see things you didn’t even know about yourself. Like the “hole” in my soul, for example. What the hell had she meant by that? And what about Max? She’d called him something in another language. But what?

  “Relax, Quinn, or your head is going to explode.” Lakota tapped her temple, and that’s when I noticed a rose gold band encircling her ring finger.

  I opened my mouth to remark on it but was interrupted by the rap of knuckles on my passenger window.

  “Shit!” I cursed, nearly jumping out of my skin, my heart hammering against my ribcage. A man’s face leered at me through the window. Behind him, I could make out the chests and shoulders of at least two others.

  “You lost?” the man shouted, his eyes glinting with something darker than amusement. He was an ugly sort with a missing eyetooth and more patches in his scraggly facial hair than anyone I’d ever seen.

  “That was fast,” Lakota muttered. “They must have lookouts in the woods.”

  “Ye knew they would find us?” I hissed.

  “I figured as much, yeah. They probably smelled us coming a mile away.”

  “Smelled us?”

  Another rap on the window interrupted whatever response Lakota might have offered. It was harder this time, though. So hard, in fact, that I worried for the integrity of my window. I turned a glare on the bastard, but he merely smiled.

  “I said, are you ladies lost?”

  “No, we know exactly where we are,” I snapped. “Now back the fuck away from me door before I tear it off its hinges and beat ye to death with it.”

  The smile dimmed, replaced by something uncertain and vulnerable that reminded me of a kicked dog. The man backed away, both hands held out to show he’d meant no harm. And maybe he hadn’t. Still, a girl can never be too careful.