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

by Shayne Silvers

  No, what unsettled me most about Morgan le Fay wasn’t her temperament or what she’d done to and for us in the past, but the secrets she’d kept. What she’d known, and yet refused to share. At the time, she’d seemed wise, her words profound. But, in hindsight, it was easy to see how she’d hoped to manipulate me into becoming her protégé. How she’d plotted to put a feather in her cap by claiming Merlin’s daughter as her apprentice. Not because she was malevolent or power hungry, but because she was the type of person who simply had to be in the thick of things to feel worthwhile.

  Basically, she was an immortal busybody.

  “Look,” I said, at last, “it’s a personality issue, that’s all. You’re right, if Morgan le Fay is willin’ to help, then we should invite her to join us. It’s a no brainer. Just don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

  “I would not dare,” Max teased.

  “Uh huh.” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, what did Camila have to say about Liam. Anything?”

  “She is looking into it, now, but sounded as surprised as we were to hear he was out here. Whatever Liam is up to, and why he targeted you, is still a mystery.”

  “Great. Just great.” I stopped pacing and shoved both hands into my jacket pockets. “So, what, are we supposed to prick our fingers and paint the wall with blood to summon Morgan? Say her name three times in front of the mirror?”

  Max flashed a look at me that suggested I was a crazy person, took his phone out, hit a couple buttons, and held it to his ear. “Hello, Señorita le Fay? It is Max. Maria’s friend. Sí, that one.” A deep throated chuckle escaped his lips. “The former, I am afraid.”

  Max held up a finger at me and walked to a secluded corner of the lobby, presumably so he could explain our current situation without being overheard. I, meanwhile, was left to wonder what that ageless hussy could possibly have said to earn that laugh. Probably something about the call being about business, or pleasure.

  “Ye do remember the time she sliced ye up, right?” I grumbled as the brujo returned with the phone at his side. “Ye know, after she sent her people to abduct ye from your store and nearly got Camila blown up?”

  To my surprise, Max’s smile merely widened. “It is not the worst thing that could have happened.”

  “How d’ye figure?”

  “Well, I was eventually rescued. By a very beautiful woman, no less.”

  I scowled at the brujo. “Ye t’ink you’re so smooth, but I see right through you, Velez.”

  “Do not be mad at me because you cannot take a compliment.” Max pocketed his phone, looking bemused. “I see right through you, too, you know.”

  Well, he had a point, there.

  Dammit.

  “Whatever,” I replied, huffing. “Anyway, when does she t’ink she’ll be here, by? D’ye tell her we were on a clock, of sorts?”

  “Sí, I stressed that part.” Max pointed over my shoulder to the hotel’s electronic doors so that I turned just in time to see them whisk open to admit a stunning, raven-haired woman in a pair of wedge boots and a bust-hugging bell-sleeve dress that left her shapely legs bare to mid-thigh. “Once she heard you were here, she said she would rush right over.”

  “Perfect,” I drawled. “Just perfect.”

  Chapter 31

  Morgan le Fay and I sat across from one another in the deserted hotel bar while Max did the rounds and gathered everyone to join us. She’d ordered a mojito and sat sipping it, occasionally swirling the mint leaves to pass the time. I hadn’t ordered anything. Partly because it was hardly two o’clock, partly because I was broke, and partly because the only identification I had on me was a forgery that might get me past caution tape but sure as hell wouldn’t get me past a bouncer.

  But mainly because I was broke.

  “Max should be back any minute,” I said to fill the silence.

  “Oh, I doubt that,” Morgan replied. “I asked that lovely young man you’ve practically enslaved to give us some privacy once I saw the state you were in.”

  “Ye did what, now?” I asked, scooting back in my chair.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll be along in twenty minutes or so. Please, relax. I simply wanted to see how you were holding up. Have you been sleeping? You seem...tired.”

  I glared at the enchantress, both annoyed and impressed by her perceptiveness. Of course, it was entirely possible Max had mentioned it to her during their phone call. He’d been kind enough not to mention my little episode that morning, but the brujo wasn’t stupid. He had to realize there was something fishy going on.

  “If I tell ye the truth, it’ll sound like I’m crazy,” I replied, looking away. “Besides, I don’t trust ye.”

  “That hurts.” Morgan lay a perfectly manicured hand over her heart, her kohled eyes glinting with amusement. “I am only trying to help. Besides, why invite me to meet your friends if you don’t trust me?”

  “First of all, I didn’t invite ye. Max did. And that’s only because ye know t’ings that can help solve a murder case. Or at least we hope ye do.”

  “A murder case?” Morgan leaned forward onto her elbow, cradling her chin with that hand. “Max didn’t say anything about that.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That there was a coven in this area practicing magic and passing it off as performance art, and that the Fae may be involved.”

  “He didn’t say anythin’ about the murders?”

  “Oh, he mentioned that. Something about human sacrifices, if memory serves? But just now you made it sound like something the mortal police might investigate. The Regular authorities, I mean.”

  “They are,” I replied, wishing Max were here so I could ask him what the hell he’d spent damn near ten minutes on the phone talking to her about if it wasn’t the case...and then strangle him. “That’s why we’re here, actually.”

  “You’re working with a Regulars to solve murders caused by magic? My, my, how times have changed.”

  “They aren’t Regulars. But they do work for the FBI. Ye know who the FBI are, don’t ye?”

  “Of course,” Morgan replied with a chuckle. “I don’t live under a rock. I even have a blog. And an Instagram. In fact, I’ll let you in on a little secret. You can never have too many followers. Your father taught me that.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, my dear, that he knew better than to pick fights with people whose help he might one day require. Connections. Networking. Relationships.” With each word, Morgan tapped the tabletop with her fingernail. “You say you don’t trust me, but I’m beginning to think that merely lumps me in with everyone else you know.”

  That stung a little, though not as much as it would have if it were entirely true. The trouble was, I could count the people I trusted implicitly on one hand and still have fingers left over. If Christoff were here, for example, I’d have told him everything. Even the bit about the dreams. Hell, if I ever got the chance, I’d tell him all about Ryan’s last moments and hold nothing back. He’d earned that by being there for me in the past, and by proving he could handle himself in a crisis. Everyone else...well, let’s just say the bar was high and leave it at that.

  “Ye may be right about that,” I admitted after taking a moment to cool down. “But I am entitled to keep me own secrets, and that isn’t goin’ to change just because ye t’ink I should feel guilty.”

  Morgan picked up her glass, only to find it empty. She waved it at the bartender, then gestured back and forth between herself and me. “Make it two, dear!”

  “I don’t—” I began.

  “Don’t be a pain in the ass. If you’re going to insist I treat you like an equal, then we will have to drink like equals.”

  “Ye sound like Charon,” I muttered as the hotel bartender set two glasses down and walked away without asking for my ID or my room number.

  “The Boatman?” Morgan asked, arching a shapely eyebrow. “He’s still around? Where on Earth did you run into him?”

&nb
sp; “On the way to see Hades,” I replied as I stirred the contents of my own drink to keep from replaying too much of that frankly chilling experience. “Then again after Atlantis. And once more when I left Circe’s island. Strange guy. But his homebrew was somethin’ else.”

  When I looked up, I found Morgan le Fay gazing at me with such complete and utter shock that—for some reason—all I could do was laugh. I mean, how often does the mind of someone whose been around longer than Christianity get blown? Fortunately, the enchantress recovered in time to greet Max and the others as they sauntered into the bar.

  “Hello there,” she said, rising to shake hands and exchange nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Leo said, eyeing our drinks. “Looks like you got started without us.”

  “Oh my!” Morgan exclaimed, leaning forward to ogle the senior agent the way a child might thrust its face against the glass of a zoological exhibit. “You’re a Demagogue!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “And a Valkyrie! And you, look at you!”

  “Who, me?” Lakota asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What about me?”

  Morgan opened her mouth to say something, then shut it and shook her head. “No, it’s too soon for that. Much too soon. You wouldn’t be the first vessel that crafty creature left empty, after all. Oh, Quinn, you never told me you kept such marvelous company! I take back what I said before. You’ve made some truly worthwhile connections.”

  “Umm...t’anks?”

  ”Now then, to business,” the enchantress continued as she resumed her seat and invited the others to join her. “I’ve been told you all solve murders that defy mortal comprehension. How fascinating. Please, tell me everything.”

  Chapter 32

  Leo did most of the talking, though Max was glad to offer clarifications whenever metaphysics got involved. Morgan was the perfect audience member throughout—oohing and ahhing and nodding along like some beautifully crafted bobblehead. Still, I had to admit the few questions she did ask were more perceptive than anything I’d have come up with.

  By the time the senior agent was done, we all had drinks in our hands. Nothing so strong as to turn the debriefing into a true happy hour, of course, but enough to at least enliven the conversation. Or it would have been if the other two agents present had been more interested in chatting than scrutinizing the beguiling enchantress’ every move. But then, I couldn’t exactly blame them for that.

  Some witches simply couldn’t be trusted.

  “My,” she said at last, clapping her hands together, “what a thrilling few days you all have had. I must say, I am very impressed. I had no idea there were people like you all out there, doing the Academy’s job for them. It’s very admirable.”

  “We appreciate that,” Lakota replied, speaking up for the first time in nearly a half hour. “But we’re more interested in results than praise.”

  “Oh, but of course. Your kind always are, dear.”

  “My...kind?”

  “Self-sacrificing individuals,” Morgan elaborated airily. “People like you have been the backbone of every notable civilization throughout history. The plebeians of Rome, the Viking thralls, the serfs of Russian, and so on.”

  “You mean slaves?”

  “No, dear. I mean those who buy into the social contract and strictly adhere to it. You believe you are doing a service to your fellow man that only you can provide. It’s a noble cause. One that inspired the legend I am associated with. In my time, they’d have called you all knights.”

  Lakota blinked at the enchantress as though uncertain whether to take offense or say thank you. In the end, she hoisted her beer in a mock toast. “May all our tables be round.”

  “That nonsense again,” Morgan replied, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, back to business. It sounds to me like you have stumbled onto a rather old ritual that went out of fashion quite a few centuries ago. It’s no surprise you haven’t come across anything quite like it before.”

  “What is the ritual?” Max asked.

  “Actually, it’s more of an event. I’m not sure the Fae consider anything they do ritualistic, though that is precisely what it is. But, back in the day, we called it a Sithen Dance. That was when there were far more entrances to Fae, before the industrial revolution and the dawn of empirical science. It seems like this coven and your Gancanagh have recreated the practice.”

  “To what end, though?” Leo asked, apparently hoping to avoid any more off-topic discussions.

  “Well, traditionally the Fae would lure unsuspecting mortals for a night of feasting and dancing before sending them home with tales to spread. In some cases, however, they’d find a powerful mortal who piqued their interest and would keep him or her for a much longer span. So long, in most cases, that the mortal could never return, or had become so changed that they came back as something other than what they were. There are many legends associated with these people, even in American folklore.”

  “I still don’t see the connection between that and our victims,” Leo admitted.

  “That’s because there isn’t one. Not an obvious one, anyway. The Sithen Dance is a largely benign experience. Even those who were taken were rarely harmed. It violated Fae hospitality to do otherwise. What you need to find out is—”

  “There you all are,” an all-too-familiar voice declared, cutting off whatever else the enchantress had been about to say.

  “Sheriff Watt,” Leo said, rising halfway out of his seat, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

  “Sit back down, Jeffries,” Watt barked, scanning our faces while his deputy loomed like a shadow at his back. “Having a drink, huh? Why am I not surprised? Deputy, call Nelson in here. We’re going to take them all in.”

  “And who is this incredibly rude human?” Morgan asked, her face screwed up in puzzlement. The sight of the gorgeous creature in our midst momentarily stunned the sheriff into silence, at least until her insult registered.

  “I’m the officer arresting your friends, lady. Now stand up, step away, and shut up, unless you want to join them in a cell.”

  “On what charges, you lunatic?” Leo demanded.

  “I’m glad you asked. You and your people are going down for interfering in a police investigation, tampering with evidence, and witness intimidation. Oh, and I’ve already got your man Collins behind bars, so don’t even think about trying to get your damned stories straight. Now, get your asses up and put your hands in the air before I add resisting arrest to the charges.”

  Chapter 33

  Deputy Holt came for Max at Watt’s insistence. The brujo rose and slid both hands behind his back without complaint, though the tension in his neck and shoulders suggested he was anything but happy. Officer Nelson stood awkwardly, watching the whole scene take place with the sheepish look people often get when standing idly by while wrongs are committed.

  “You petty son of a bitch,” Leo snarled, only Hilde’s hand on his arm keeping him from lunging at the sheriff. “What the hell do you think is going to come of this?”

  “Oh, plenty,” Watt retorted. “I think I’ll have your badge, for one thing. Maybe your people’s, too. Depends whether they knew what you were up to. If not, I’ll cut them a deal.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Jeffries. The owner of the Fairy Court told us how you threatened her business after she came forward to testify about our victim in the woods. Now that I know how you solve all your cases; I can see it’s no wonder you’re so highly regarded in the Bureau.”

  “Look, Watt, I don’t know what that woman told you, but she—”

  “Imagine,” the sheriff interjected as he unclipped the cover of his hip holster to rest his good hand on the butt of his pistol. “A federal agent who goes around committing the murders he eventually solves. Well, not you, per say. That’s what you have Collins for.”

  “Leo…” Lakota growled, her face contorted by more h
ate than I’d ever thought to see on it. “If he says one more word about my husband, I’m going to feed him his gun.”

  “Nelson, cuff that mouthy bitch. We’ll add threatening a police officer to her rap sheet.”

  “Sheriff…”

  “Now, Nelson!”

  The officer jumped and started edging towards the Seer with an apologetic look on his face. Holt, meanwhile, gaped at his boss over Max’s shoulder. If I had to guess, I’d have said this was the first time Watt had voiced these accusations in front of his men. So, the real question was whether Watt was insane, or just that damned vindictive.

  “Agent Jeffries, may I call you Leo?” Morgan chimed in, startling us all with her cheery tone. “Would you mind terribly if I stepped in? Before things get any less civil, that is.”

  “I told you to get lost, dammit!” Watt snapped.

  Surprisingly, it was Hilde who answered the enchantress.

  “Please, do it.”

  The enchantress smiled brightly, nodded, and waved a hand just as Watt drew his gun. The room’s occupants stilled so suddenly that I could have sworn I was looking at statues—as opposed to living, breathing human beings. At first, I thought she’d frozen time much the way I had been able to not so very long ago. That is until an ice cube in my glass got caught in an updraft of soda bubbles and rose to the surface, tinkling along the way.

  “Huh, that’s a neat trick,” I said, waving a hand in front of Holt’s glassy eyes.

  Morgan—who’d risen to inspect the sheriff—spun round, groping at her chest. “Holy Grail in a Temple, you scared me half to death! Why aren’t you asleep like the others?”

  “They’re sleepin’? But their eyes are open.”

  “It’s an expression,” she hissed. “This is a spell that dull people’s minds and makes them too sluggish to move. Quit doing that!”