“Thanks, Blake,” I said weakly. “Bye.”
“Talk to you later.”
He ended the call almost before he got the last syllable out. I sighed and stared at my cell phone for a moment before putting it back in the pouch.
“All right, Peasblossom, let’s get those opera tickets,” I said finally, heading toward the street to flag down a taxi.
“We don’t need tickets,” Peasblossom pointed out. “We can just talk to them outside.”
“I’m trying to get their fingerprints,” I reminded her. “Call me paranoid, but if one of them is the guilty party, then I don’t want to risk having to stand outside for two or more hours because they ran and hid inside to avoid me.”
“That does sound paranoid. And it’s a little late for tickets, isn’t it?” Peasblossom asked doubtfully.
“Not for the special showing. The opera house has a show at nine-thirty for Otherworlders who prefer not to be out in daylight. I doubt there are enough opera-loving monsters in Cleveland to use up every single ticket.”
Half an hour later, I learned that there were, in fact, enough opera-loving monsters in Cleveland to use up every single ticket. Not only was the show sold out, but the waiting list was full as well. Apparently, a big name was starring in tonight’s show, and everyone wanted a peek.
I stared at the woman in the ticket booth, my brain desperately searching for some way to get around the words “sold out.” Her smile had faded a few minutes ago, shifting from friendly to “waiting for customer to have a meltdown” and “anticipating a call to the manager.”
She was human, but that didn’t do me any good. This wasn’t a matter of using magic to convince her to move me up a list. If I tried to take someone else’s ticket, or even their spot on the waiting list, then I would be looking at an angry monster.
I didn’t need more enemies.
Oh, blood and bone, I forgot about Arianne. I need to send another apology gift.
I stepped out of the line to do just that, giving the poor ticket girl a break from my desperation. She eyed me uneasily as I remained near her, probably anticipating a round two. I swiped at my phone, hoping that if I got the ball rolling on Arianne’s next apology gift, at least I’d feel some sense of accomplishment. I needed a win today, even a small one.
“Shade? Shade Renard?”
The woman’s voice came from behind me, but I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. There weren’t many people in Cleveland, Ohio with a Dacian accent—thankfully. Which meant the woman talking to me was…
Vera Winters beamed at me as she approached, her light dress flaring around her knees in a white rush of silk covered in large black polka dots. The black bodice was snug, and the off-the-shoulder cut hugged her shoulders. Like me, Vera had plenty of soft, full curves, and the dress flattered them all. The black of the bodice showed her pale skin off to perfection, but it was hard not to be reminded of who her husband was.
Anton Winters.
Vampire.
“Mrs. Winters,” I said. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Vera waved at the girl at the ticket counter, and the nice young lady was kind enough not to let out an audible sigh of relief. I tried to pin a smile to my face as Vera led me away from the ticket booth and further into the opera house.
“How are you, Shade? And Peasblossom, where is she?”
Peasblossom poked her head out from under my hair. “Hi, Vera!”
Vera grinned. “Hello, Peasblossom.” Her smile faltered. “Oh, my. What’s happened to your wings?”
Peasblossom was not one to let an opportunity for sympathy go by. She hopped out onto my shoulder and pivoted to show Vera her back.
“A nasty telekinetic squished them,” she said, her voice tinier and much more pitiful than it had been a second ago.
Vera frowned and gestured for us to follow her. It was five o’ clock, and the first show of the evening wasn’t due to start for another two hours. Guests wouldn’t be arriving for another hour, but the staff were already preparing the food stations. Vera led us to a tea cart and plucked a packet of honey off the tray. She tore off the corner and handed it to Peasblossom.
“I could ask Illyana to have a look,” Vera offered. “She’s very adept at healing.”
The mention of the vampire’s resident sorceress did not have the comforting effect that Vera seemed to think it would. I remembered Illyana, with her long white hair and stern features. You didn’t get to be the staff sorceress of the vampiric crime boss of Cleveland without being powerful.
And morally flexible.
“That’s all right,” I said quickly. “She’s already been looked at by the Vanguard. And besides, she’s so strong…”
Peasblossom bobbed her head happily, but didn’t take her mouth from the honey packet.
“What brings you here?” Vera asked, making herself a cup of tea.
“Nothing—”
“We were trying to get tickets to the opera tonight.” Honey drizzled out of the corner of Peasblossom’s mouth, and she stuck out her tongue to lap it up. “We need to talk to some people who are going to be here.”
“But we can talk to them after,” I said quickly. “Or before. We’ll just wait outside—”
Majesty chose that moment to leap onto Scath’s head, separating himself from her glamour. Vera’s eyebrows shot up, and her lips parted. I froze, my attention zeroing in on Vera, studying that expression. Most people smiled when they saw a kitten. And that was all Majesty was. Vera was looking at him differently, and I knew that look.
Recognition.
I started to ask how she knew Majesty, but Vera spoke first.
“Your service animal. He—or she?—is wearing a glamour?” She indicated Scath.
I didn’t even consider lying. There was no point. “Yes.”
“May I?” Vera asked softly.
I started to say no, to make up some excuse why that would be a bad idea. But Scath had other ideas. She dropped her glamour.
I had a moment, a small moment, where I fondly remembered the days when she didn’t react to anything, or exert herself for anyone beyond stepping in to prevent certain death. But the way she acquiesced to Vera’s request so suddenly, so completely, as if it never occurred to her to refuse… That was new.
Vera’s lips parted slightly. She went still, not the way her undead husband could, but disturbingly, hauntingly close. Finally, she stepped closer, held out one hand. She put her palm on Scath’s huge black head, stroked her the way a mother would touch a sick child. Gentle. Comforting.
“You will be my guest tonight,” Vera said suddenly, looking up at me.
I fought not to take a physical step back. “I couldn’t—”
“I swear on my marriage that I will expect no payment of any kind in exchange for this favor,” Vera promised. “You will be my guest at the opera tonight, and when it’s over, you will be free to go as you please. This is nothing but an offer of an evening of magical music.”
However nice her offer, I wasn’t fooled. Vera was a passionate philanthropist, and back in the five kingdoms, she was loved by everyone I’d ever met—human and Other. But you didn’t marry someone like Anton Winters if you were squeamish. And Vera was not a woman to remain ignorant of her husband’s activities, wasn’t the sort to pretend she didn’t notice. No, in some ways, Vera was as ambitious as her husband.
And I knew in my bones she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“What time should I be here?” I asked, trying to keep the strain out of my voice.
“Eight-thirty. I’ll see you then.”
She gave me another brilliant smile, then hurried off with the gait of someone with news to deliver. My stomach churned. I suspected I knew who she was excited to see. There was little point hurrying. He’d be dead until sunset.
“He could be awake now,” Peasblossom said, reading my mind. “He’s bonded with his wife. It’s not unusual for a powerful vampire to wake early whe
n bonded to a living spouse.”
“What a delightful bit of information, I feel so much better.”
Peasblossom slumped back against my neck, hugging her empty honey packet to her chest. “You’re in a mood.”
“Oh, I’m in a mood.” I nodded, kept nodding as I left the opera house. The girl behind the ticket counter gave me that uneasy look people gave to strangers who muttered to themselves on public transportation. I didn’t care. I had bigger things to worry about than whether she thought I was crazy.
Much bigger things.
“All right, let’s think about this,” I muttered. “Whoever the thief is, they had to know where to find each object. The cup was displayed in the museum, anyone could have known about that. The knife hasn’t been stolen yet, so maybe they’re still looking for it. So who knew about the bowl?”
“Kathy,” Peasblossom said.
“A human who has no reason to know what the set is capable of. Unless someone told her.”
“Maybe the same someone who asked her to destroy the evidence?” Peasblossom suggested.
“If someone asked her to destroy it.” I bit my lip. “Marilyn knew about it.”
“Marilyn has no need for more power,” Peasblossom argued. She paused. “But if she knew about it, then Morgan could have known.”
“So could Vazkasi,” I pointed out. “Or Simon.”
“All right, so everyone at the museum.” Peasblossom crawled onto my shoulder, still staying in the shadow of my hair. “And since Alicia is there all the time, sucking up to Marilyn, she could have known.”
“And if she knew, then she might have mentioned it to Catherine.” I sighed. “And if Catherine knew, then she certainly would have told Devanos.” I shook my head. “It’s all speculation though. We have no proof that anyone but Kathy and Marilyn knew about the bowl, for certain.”
“And the wizard. Out of all of them, he’s the one who knew what they really were. What they did,” Peasblossom said, idly poking one of her small fingers through the weave of my shirt.
I patted her hand gently with one finger to make her stop. “Did Jim Givens strike you as a thief?”
Peasblossom snorted. “I wouldn’t put anything past anyone who works with his ‘associate.’” She shivered. “That guy gave me the creeps.”
I shifted uneasily. I hadn’t liked the grey man either. Something about him made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “We should find Jim now. I need his prints for elimination. And we should probably print his associate too.”
“And Simon,” Peasblossom reminded me. “Didn’t Morgan say she’d call when Simon came back?”
“Yes, she did,” I said, pulling my cell phone out. “Let me call her and see if Simon is in. We can swing by there before we go hunting for our wizard.”
Morgan answered on the first ring. “Mother Renard. Have you found anything?”
“The investigation is ongoing,” I said. “I was just calling to see if Simon had returned yet? I still need his fingerprints.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot to call you. Simon isn’t coming back in. He had more work to do, he said, so he won’t be back in until tomorrow.”
I cursed under my breath. “Do you have his address? I really need to get his prints as soon as possible.”
There was a long pause. With every second it continued, my stomach tightened further and further, until I was worried I’d be sick from the anticipation alone.
“Morgan?” I said finally.
“I’m here. It’s just… I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?” I demanded past the lump in my throat.
“Simon lives with Marilyn,” Morgan said carefully. “She’s his patron.”
Chapter 12
I stopped so suddenly that the woman walking behind me didn’t have time to avoid me. She collided with my back, spewing a generous helping of swear words that would have raised eyebrows even in the bowels of a submarine.
I ignored the language, and the glare she shot me as she skirted around me, adjusting her Bob’s Burgers T-shirt and shoving her purse strap back up her shoulder.
“Patron?” I said hoarsely.
“I’m so sorry,” Morgan said. “I assumed you knew.”
Chaos sent my thoughts spinning, and I struggled to push away the fear and horror rising inside me, fought to keep my thoughts in order. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to go back to Marilyn’s,” I said, half to myself. “Could you call Simon, ask him to come to the museum?”
“You wouldn’t have to go to Marilyn’s,” Morgan said, sounding suddenly more upbeat. “They’ll be in town tonight. At the opera.”
My jaw dropped, and without meaning to, I looked around. I didn’t know what I expected to find. It’s not like the gods, or the Fates, would be standing where I could see them, smirking at the way they’d toyed with my life. I hated coincidences.
Mostly because I didn’t believe in them.
“The opera is sold out, I’m afraid,” Morgan was saying. “But I can get you in. If you’ll accept my help?”
“I have tickets,” I mumbled.
“You do?” Morgan sounded shocked. “I don’t mean to be insulting, but how did you manage that? This show has been sold out for months. And I didn’t think you were an opera fan.” She paused. “I hope Flint won’t be there. He and Marilyn are not…on the best of terms.”
“No, I don’t think he’ll be there.” I stopped, then added, “At least he hasn’t said anything to me.” For all I knew, Flint would be there, on the arm of some rich woman whose beneficence allowed him to rent an apartment for the witch he’d enslaved. Somehow I didn’t think Flint had a day job. I didn’t care, not right now.
“I’m sorry, Morgan, I have to go. Thank you for the…information.”
I ended the call, only half-aware I was being rude.
“Simon belongs to Marilyn,” Peasblossom whispered. “How?”
I thought of the stranger Shannon had mentioned, the one Simon had called when she’d refused the painting she’d thought was too violent for her diner. The one that featured me. She’d told me and Andy that the stranger had examined Simon’s painting and then given him a card.
“This is bad.” I covered my face with my hands, blocking out the stares I was getting from the people passing me, barely registering the complaints about my interference with foot traffic. “Blood and bone, Peasblossom, what else could go wr—”
My cell phone rang. Instantly I regretted my choice of words. I said a small prayer, lips moving as I lowered my hands and retrieved my cell phone. Stomach in knots, I stared at the unfamiliar number for a few seconds before getting up the nerve to answer.
“Hello?”
“Mother Renard?”
I recognized Jim Givens’ voice. My shoulders tightened, and the ache in the back of my head worsened. I’d nearly forgotten about the wizard. The one who’d known the true purpose of the artifacts. The one who’d known where to find at least two of them. The one who’d claimed the chalice in the museum had been fake.
“Yes. Is this Jim? I’m glad you called, I—”
“I need to talk to you. Now. It’s important.”
“Sure, of course. We could meet—”
“Do you know the speakeasy on the north side?” he interrupted.
He sounded tense. But then, there was an angry dragon after him. I’d be tense too. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“It’s called Nottingham.”
I pulled my phone away from my ear to stare at it, as if I could see Jim through the line. “Seriously?”
“There’s more than one entrance,” Jim continued. “The property has an old red phone booth. Go there and wait inside. Text me when you get there, and I’ll call you on that phone and tell you where to go.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why all the—”
“This line isn’t secure, and I don’t want any uninvited guests showing up at our meeting. Just text me when you’re in the boo
th.”
He hung up without waiting for a response.
“Doesn’t like to let anyone else get a word in, does he?” Peasblossom asked.
I hated being interrupted, but now wasn’t the time for lessons in good manners. I hailed a cab and was relieved to find the driver knew the place I was talking about. The red phone booth was hard to miss, but I was dismayed to find it was a tight squeeze.
“Even with the windows, this is a claustrophobic person’s nightmare,” I muttered, wrenching open the door and wedging myself inside. I was short, but I wasn’t small. I texted Jim, hoping he’d call soon so I could get out of the cheery little closet. A second later, the phone rang.
“Thank goodness—”
The floor vanished out from under me. The sudden drop made me feel as though I’d left my heart and my stomach up in the phone booth. A scream built in my throat, but didn’t have time to escape before I hit solid ground.
I let my legs fold and tried to turn my landing into a roll, but I’ve never been the world’s most graceful witch. As it was, I counted it a win that I didn’t break any bones when I hit bottom. Pain exploded in my elbows and knees, each jolt to my limbs sending a ricochet of pain through my body.
My first thought after I hit the ground was Peasblossom. Her wings still wouldn’t lift her, and fighting her instinct to fly after a fall like that would be hard. My heart pounded as I held very still, waiting to feel the tell-tale sign of a pixie regaining her bearings.
“Peasblossom?” I hissed.
It appeared I’d fallen into a cave of some sort. The stone walls and ceiling were dark and looked all the more so for the fact that the only light came from a small fire pit five feet away. I had better than human darkvision, and as I searched for my familiar, I noticed that I’d landed in the center of a circle of rocks. As soon as my brain registered the circle, I became aware of a humming in the base of my skull, an ache in my teeth. The circle was magic. And active.
I was trapped.
“Peasblossom, please answer me.”
“I’m here.”
I whirled around, then froze, scared to death I’d step on her. I scanned the ground, and spotted Peasblossom laying a foot away from my right leg. I crawled forward and scooped her up, the lump in my throat making it hard to get any words out.
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