We arrived back in Harken mid-morning, local time. Seth had to go to work, so he dropped me off at his house with strict instructions to stay there. I waited until he’d left before sending a Mercury Boy to Blackgoat with a message for Crowhurst to come and pick me up.
In the meantime, I was a woman on a mission. Being careful of my side, I changed into fresh clothes, then dragged a brush through my hair. While I braided it back, I mentally compiled a list of things to do. Roman had to be found, and fast. Then there was finding out who had tortured Jonas Grundler, and handing the name over to his mother. Third on the list was worrying about my trial at the Order. I guess the list wasn’t long, but those three things crowded my mind to the point where I felt I needed a serious lie down.
Crowhurst turned up an hour later, the sound of his horn alerting me he was waiting, though very impatiently. Casper’s history book caught my eye, lying beside my overnight satchel. I hesitated. I had to admit his implication about nefarious doings within the Order had caught my interest. I emptied my satchel of the random outfits I'd packed for my stay at Seth’s and shoved the book inside. No doubt I'd end up at Blackgoat at some point, and figured I could have a quick skim of it then. I slung the satchel over my shoulder and hurried downstairs, grabbing my cane from the umbrella stand by the door.
Crowhurst shoved the car into gear when I got in. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I’ve got a few errands to run.’
‘Uh huh.’ Crowhurst’s lips pulled tight. ‘You think I’m your personal Mercury Boy then?’
‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,’ I pleaded. ‘And I’ll be quick. Then I need you to take me to the morgue. I want to look at Grundler’s body.’
‘I already did that.’ Crowhurst swung the wheel as he took a sharp corner, scaring a flock of geese.
‘I need to look at the body myself,’ I said.
We swung by the harbour district, where I checked in with some of my contacts, but no-one had any news about Roman. Finally, Crowhurst made noises about the time, and I conceded temporary defeat.
Grundler’s body was being held at the City West Morgue. It was a low, flat building positioned a little too close to the meat district for my liking. I bribed the attendant, and he pointed the way to where Grundler was being stored.
The corpse room was unnaturally cold, created by church sanctioned spells that helped preserve the bodies. Pallets lined both walls of the corpse room, some holding bodies covered in white sheets.
Crowhurst rubbed his arms. ‘Let’s be quick. I hate this place.’
We stopped by one of the white sheets, which Crowhurst pulled back. Grundler’s skin had a grey tinge, his ruined eye sockets nothing but a pulpy mess and a grisly hole gaped in his chest. I pulled the sheet down further. Old bruises, mottled grey and purple, splotched his skin. Crowhurst stood on the other side of the slab. He held up one of Grundler’s arms, indicating where the wrist was ringed with a deep bruise. Looking down, I saw a similar bruise on the other wrist. I moved to the feet, seeing identical marks.
‘Looks like he was chained up somewhere,’ I said.
‘A pet griorwolf.’ Crowhurst’s tone was mild and detached, but his jaw clenched tight.
Something else caught my eye and I leant forward. Small pinpricks dotted Grundler’s inner elbow. ‘Did you see this?’
‘I thought it was a rash.’
‘They look like needle marks to me.’
Crowhurst bent down, squinting. ‘A needle mark is bigger than that, and bruises a lot more.’
‘Sure, if you’re using Weald syringes. Those big silver needles are huge and can make a real mess.’ I shook my head. ‘I'm talking about Outland needles. What’s the bet they were loaded with rapture.’
‘You can buy Outland syringes on the black market, but they aren’t cheap,’ Crowhurst said. ‘Grundler didn’t strike me as the type who had that kind of money to throw around.’
‘I’ll wager he wasn’t injecting himself willingly,’ I rubbed my chin, thinking. ‘We both know someone who does have that kind of money though.’
Crowhurst met my eyes. ‘Ivor Grogan.’
We left the morgue, both subdued, and got back in the car. It was just after noon and, while I was hungry for lunch, I couldn’t bring myself to suggest food after seeing the Grundler.
‘Why?’ Crowhurst asked as he cranked over the engine key a few times before the car rumbled to life. ‘Why would someone torture griorwolves? Why inject them with drugs and beat them?’
‘I don’t know.’ My mind ran over Grogan’s country estate, and the security measures. Breaking in to take a peek around would be almost impossible, and extremely dangerous. ‘I've got an idea of someone who might be able to help us.’ I looked at Crowhurst. ‘Who did Gideon end up putting on the Nicola Grogan bodyguard job?’
Crowhurst rolled his eyes. ‘You didn’t hear? The Iron Horse theatre cancelled the contract with Blackgoat Watch when Gideon couldn’t provide a female guard for Nicola. I heard the Sisters of No Mercy were approached.’
‘Let’s go visit the lovely Nicola. Something tells me she wasn’t too pleased with her daddy’s marriage announcement. Maybe if I shake her hard enough, something will fall out of that pretty little head of hers.’
Chapter 21
Crowhurst dropped me outside the Iron Horse, before driving off to find a park. Pedestrian traffic was light, so I spied Cloete almost straight away. She was slouched outside the front door with a vicious look designed to keep anyone from making suggestive propositions. She’s stolen that snarky look from me, and it didn’t look like that was all she’d pilfered in recent times, as she was clearly on a protection detail.
As I got close, I wrinkled my nose, liquor wafting off the otherkin like she’d bathed in it. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking after that spoilt bitch actress.’
‘Is someone else on the job with you?’ I asked.
‘Nope.’
‘Then why are you out here?’
‘I needed some air. That bitch actress gets on my nerves.’ Cloete straightened her back, tilted her chin higher. ‘Are you going to leave Blackgoat?’
I leant on my cane. ‘I'm kind of too busy with my own problems, Cloete, to keep repeating myself. I've got a torturer of griorwolves to hunt, my name to clear with the Grigori, and a destiny I'm trying to dodge. Your mother is the icing on the cake my thighs don’t need right now.’
Cloete frowned, tail whipping about behind her. She pulled a flask from a pocket and offered me a swig. ‘Mother is going to eat you alive.’
‘You might be right, but I have two things you don’t: a spine, and some fucking loyalty. So you can tell your mother to bite me.’ I brushed past her, ignoring the offered drink.
The girl on the desk recognised me and waved me in. A glance over my shoulder showed me Cloete was staying where she was, head bowed. My heart gave a twinge of concern and I tried my best to dismiss the feeling. I had no time for Cloete at the moment. She’d made her bed, and now she could drunkenly vomit in it.
I didn’t quite make it to Nicola’s dressing room before a commotion sounded behind me. I turned to find the theatre’s manager, Stonehouse, lumbering towards me with a flustered look, boots clicking against the floorboards.
He stabbed a finger at me. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you quit. Don’t bother trying to beg for your job back, I’ve already hired someone else.’
‘I need to ask Nicola a few questions.’ I tried Nicola’s dressing room door and found it unlocked. I shoved the door open and stepped inside. My eyes fell on the curtains, now pushed aside and revealing an open window to the side alley. ‘She’s not here,’ I told Stonehouse.
He pushed past me. ‘Nicola darling?’ He stopped when he saw the open window and turned to me, face ashen. ‘She’s gone out the window.’
‘Thank you, Mister Obvious.’
‘Her father is going to have me castrated.’
‘Maybe she’s t
aking the air.’
‘She’s supposed to go on stage soon.’
I walked around the room, checking for clues. ‘Do you know where she might have gone?’
‘No.’ Stonehouse looked sick. ‘I mean, she wouldn’t. Would she?’
I levelled a stare at Stonehouse. ‘She wouldn’t what?’
‘Run off with that boy,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘If she did, Grogan will slit my throat.’
‘What boy?’ I asked.
‘Don’t know. Never met him.’ Stonehouse’s shoulders slumped. ‘I don’t even know his name. He’s one of the main reasons I needed to hire security in the first place.’
‘You’re kidding,’ I said. ‘I was hired to keep a pair of lovers apart?’
‘They met here apparently, some weeks ago when Nicola came to audition. He’s been sending her roses nearly every day, and they think they’re in love. Master Grogan found out; warned me Nicola was promised to someone else. Her father had plans for her and he couldn’t risk them falling apart.’ Stonehouse wiped a hand over his mouth. ‘I was the one who helped Nicola get this job in the first place, so Grogan holds me responsible. I thought she had the makings of a great actress. When Grogan found out about the boy, he threatened to kill me if I didn’t keep her from him.’
‘Who does she confide in here?’ I asked. ‘Does she have any friends she might talk to?’
‘Sometimes she talked to Nane, one of the costume girls.’
‘Where can I find her?’
Hope began to show around the edges of Stonehouse’s eyes. ‘You think Nicola might be with her?’
‘Not a chance.’
Stonehouse’s face fell. I patted his round shoulder. ‘But I'll bet Nane knows the name of Nicola’s mystery boyfriend. I can probably find him from there. Where is she?’
‘Out the back with the costumes. Tell her she’s fired if she doesn’t give you a name.’
Chapter 22
The costume storeroom was stuffed with petticoats, sequined numbers and fetish heels. I found a couple of old sourpusses behind a row of dresses, sitting on upturned crates, drinking tea and nibbling crackers. They just glared at me when I asked for Nane. When they realised I wasn’t going anywhere, one of them nodded towards an emergency exit, hidden behind a tangle of feather boas coiled around a hat rack. I gave a salute of thanks, sidestepped the pink feathers and stepped into a narrow alley.
A small group of people crouched nearby, playing a subdued game of dice. Craning my neck up, I spied nothing but a sliver of blue afternoon sky. A ginger tabby sat on a bin nearby, licking its paws and a mournful-sounding accordion played in the distance. I pulled a cigarillo from my coat pocket and struck a match against my work-belt. The flame flared as I puffed slow and easy, announcing my presence. Not good manners to interrupt a street game.
The group consisted of three men and two women. One of the women wore a fur coat with thick makeup and I figured her for one of the actresses. The other was a little mouse in a brown smock, and I took a guess this was Nane. I threw my dimples at her and she blinked rapidly, as if dazzled.
‘Are you Nane?’ I kept my tone light and friendly.
Her shoulders tensed and she ducked her head. Her limbs were thin, her face gaunt.
One of the men got to his feet, corners of his mouth pulled down. ‘Who’s asking?’
Everyone stared at me with hostile faces.
I blew a smoke ring, and took my time to answer. ‘Nicola Grogan is missing from her dressing room,’ I said. ‘I was hoping Nane here could tell me where she might have gone.’
‘Why-why-why would I know where she is?’ Nane stuttered, her eyes brimming with guilt.
‘Don’t bother lying to me. I can read your aura,’ I told her. ‘I could almost read your mind if I wanted to.’ I was stretching the truth a little. My gift of aura reading was limited to seeing a person’s true nature, but I didn’t need to peek at Nane’s aura to know she had the information I needed.
‘You don’t need to tell her anything, love.’ The standing man put an arm around Nane’s shoulders. His bottom jaw jutted out at me. I tried to figure his angle. I wasn’t threatening the girl now, was I? Well, not yet.
‘I need to find her, Nane,’ I said. ‘It’s important I make sure she’s okay. Her father’s going to tear the city apart to find her, starting here, and he won’t be as nice as me.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ Nane whispered. ‘She has the Marrok family looking after her now.’
The name rang a bell, but I couldn’t quite place it. I tapped ash on the ground. ‘You do know who her father is, right? If he gets wind of this, it doesn’t matter how fancy a name is, nothing will save her.’
Nane shrunk away from me. The man holding her went to say something, when footsteps sounded behind me and he stopped. I turned to see Crowhurst standing in door I'd come through.
‘I know where she might be,’ he said.
I sucked on the last of my smoke. ‘How would you know?’
Crowhurst liked to pretend he was a smooth-talking joker but I knew, in reality, he was a stone-cold killer. So when I saw the storm of worry in his eyes, I knew something was very wrong.
‘Nicola’s with my brother,’ he said.
‘Are you serious?’ I scratched my head. ‘For real?’
Nane moved out of the arms of her would-be protector, chin inching up. ‘She has a right to be him. They love each other.’
‘She’s nothing but bad news for my family,’ Crowhurst said, voice cold. He stared at Nane, and something nasty shifted in his face, the side of him I hadn’t quite figured out yet. Nane retreated a few steps, ducking her eyes.
I stubbed out the last of my cigarillo. ‘If you know where she is, let’s roll.’
Chapter 23
‘Are you going to fill me in?’ I asked as Crowhurst started the car. Clockwork cogs and gears ticked to life, then we jolted forward. We rattled down the street, Crowhurst driving fast, his face knitted in a tight frown.
‘That woman said the Marrok family would look after Nicola.’
‘Yeah? And?’
‘I am a Marrok.’
I shoved a couple of knuckles into my eyes and rubbed hard, feeling my neck tighten. It was one thing for Nicola to be in her father’s bad books, but entirely another matter when she started dragging a friend’s family into her mess.
Crowhurst braked for a ragged group of street kids who dashed across the road, then accelerated at a slower pace. ‘Crowhurst is my mother’s maiden name, before she married my father, Ronald Marrok.’
‘Sounds like your family name could open a lot of doors for you, so why keep it a secret?’
‘I had a falling out with the family some time ago, so I went abroad for a while. The kind of work I fell into, it was better to be anonymous,’ Crowhurst said. ‘Bit hard with a name like Marrok following you around.’
‘Want to tell me how you know Nicola is with your brother?’ I sensed a juicy family scandal story, and waited patiently for him to fill in all the blanks.
Crowhurst inched through a congestion of coaches. ‘I still talk to my mother. She told me one of my brothers had started a relationship with a woman the family didn’t approve of. Apparently my brother fell hard though, and wouldn’t stop seeing her.’ Crowhurst got clear of the coaches, and sped up for a corner. ‘Apparently, it’s true love.’
I held on tight as we swung around a crowd of tired workers, then again around a boy herding a group of piglets who’d wandered onto the road. ‘I never picked you for a man with a big family.’
Amusement flickered across Crowhurst’s worried face. ‘You think I was born from a she-wolf out in the wild? I have a family. I have brothers, and sisters.’
‘You’ve never talked about them,’ I said. ‘Until that little run in outside the bathhouse with Erin—’
‘Eli.’
‘—whatever… I thought you were an orphan.’
His lips curled into a grin. ‘You’ve been t
hinking about me, then? I usually have that effect on women.’
‘I like to know who I'm working with is all,’ I replied crisply. ‘I don’t like secrets.’
‘You mean, you don’t like secrets kept from you, but it’s perfectly acceptable to keep them yourself,’ he corrected.
Crowhurst didn’t know about me being nephilim, but he had seen me use Outland weaponry in The Weald. That was a conversation I'd shut down a couple of times, before he gave up trying to figure me out. I changed the subject. ‘Where’s your brother now?’
All good humour drained from Crowhurst’s face. ‘He’ll be holed up in one of the family homes in the Quarter, laying low. I think I know which one.’
Rolling my neck until it cracked, I felt my encroaching headache retreat a little. ‘I can’t decide if this situation is getting better or worse.’
Crowhurst blew out a long breath. ‘My vote’s for worse.’
We turned into one of the narrow winding streets that connected with the Quarter, driving past four-story terrace houses with washing flapping overhead. Women walked in groups, juggling bags of washing and barefooted kids rushed about the car, banging excitedly on the side with their hands.
Crowhurst parked behind a row of parked wagons, gesturing for the small crowd of kids to get lost, then indicated one of the houses to me. I glanced up and caught sight of a pair of bloomers on the washing line. They looked suspiciously expensive to be hanging over a low rent residential street in the Gypsy Quarter. I followed Crowhurst up the narrow steps to the front door. He rapped twice, then stepped back.
Three old women sat on the steps the next house over. I zeroed in on them, thinking to check their auras. A hand clamped around my wrist. Startled, I looked up to find Crowhurst staring at me.
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