Arianne’s mouth twitched. Slowly, she nodded. “Another time then.” She moved to the door, then paused and turned back to me. “That boy.” She pointed at the wall.
“What about Simon?”
“His bracelet. It’s ametrine.”
I frowned and paced over to the wall to squint at Simon’s bracelet. Only one picture of him showed it at all. Now that I looked more closely, I could see it wasn’t made of purple stones. The stones were tri-colored, ranging from purple to pale red and orange. The red and orange had blended in with Simon’s skin, and I’d only seen the purple.
“It’s not amethyst.”
“Ametrine is used in a similar fashion to amethyst,” Arianne told me. “Most often, it’s used to manipulate the dreams of others.”
“You use amethyst.”
It wasn’t an accusation. It was a statement of fact. And Arianne didn’t bother to deny it.
“Ametrine is used by individuals who lack the natural talent for dream magic,” she said simply. She pointed to the bracelet. “That boy is either using the bracelet to work dream magic on others…”
“Or someone gave it to him so they can work dream magic on him.” I stared at the picture.
“Precisely.” Arianne paused, considering. Then she strode over and plucked a piece of watermelon from the bouquet. “I accept your apology, Mother Renard.” She popped the piece of fruit into her mouth, and without another word, swept out of my apartment.
“Can this night get any weirder?” Peasblossom demanded.
I shook my head, still staring at the picture of Simon. “Oh, it’s going to get weirder.”
Chapter 23
“I’m sorry, but this is a private event.”
I smiled at the butler that answered the door, taking no small amount of satisfaction when his nose wrinkled at the way my expression pulled at the burns on my cheeks. Flint’s potion had been worth every penny. The pain was now just a dull pulse in my face, like stepping under the spray of a shower that was too hot, but not unbearable. The wounds weren’t open or bleeding anymore, and no liquids were pouring down my cheeks. But I’d checked the mirror before I left, and I knew I still looked like a horror movie extra, with handprint-shaped areas of melted flesh like runny candles.
Good.
“I was invited to this ‘private event,’” I told him. “It’s a showing of Simon’s work, yes?”
The butler hesitated, then nodded.
“I was invited not only by Simon himself, but also by Marilyn. You can ask them if you like. I wouldn’t want to come inside when there was some question about my guest status.”
The butler frowned, probably put off by my bluntness. I smiled wider. The wince on the servant’s face made the pain worth it. He gave me an uneasy look, but then closed the door to go fetch his mistress.
“I don’t like him,” Peasblossom complained. “He’s making this take longer. I want to get in, get it over with, and get out.”
Scath sneezed. “How many flowers does one house need?” she muttered, swiping at her nose with her sleeve.
I touched the shirt, using a Cinderella spell to clean it off. “Where’s Majesty?”
The kitten in question chose that moment to dart around the corner, running full tilt toward my legs. I hissed in a surprised breath, bracing myself for impact. Majesty leapt into the air, claws outstretched. He hit the waist pouch like a springboard, then used his claws to hold onto my shoulder, settling himself like a mutant parrot.
Peasblossom screamed. Her grappling gun went off, striking Majesty on the nose before catching in my hair. I yelped as Majesty’s claws raked my skin through my shirt as he tumbled off my shoulder, twisting in midair to land on his feet. Peasblossom fell off my other shoulder, the grappling gun in my hair the only thing keeping her from plummeting all the way to the ground.
I opened my mouth to shout at one or both of them, but Majesty hissed first. A cloud of precious stones struck my legs, sharp edges tearing my leggings, grazing my skin. One particularly enterprising diamond shot forward and struck the glass pane to the left of the front door, chipping the glass. I stared down at the ground, blinking at the rubies and sapphires glittering from the front porch.
Scath bent down and picked up one of the gems. “I told you he could be useful.”
No words would come to me. I stood there, bloody and torn, and more than a little flustered.
And that’s how Marilyn found me.
The Unseelie woman arrived at the door ahead of the butler. At first glance, I thought she was naked from the waist up, but when she got closer, I could see that she was draped in a thin white veil, so delicate I had to squint to make sure it was really there. Purple flowers nestled among coils of ivy were the only nod to modesty her chest was willing to offer, and I didn’t envy their chances against a sudden breeze. Her skirt was as delicate as the veil, but tinted with purple and blue where it fell from her waist to hang just above her bare feet. It looked like someone had dyed the fabric around her lower half, just dark enough to keep her off the cover of a behind-the-counter magazine.
I smiled as much as I could while trying to disentangle Peasblossom and her grappling hook from my hair. “Good evening, Marilyn. I hope we’re not late?”
Marilyn gaped at me, her gaze taking in the whole scene from Peasblossom, to me, to Scath, to the jewels, to the kitten still sitting on the stoop looking cross. Tension crawled between my shoulder blades as I waited for her to notice the crack in her window. If she saw it before she let us inside, that one little accident could upend the entire evening, give her the excuse she needed to keep us out.
“Mother Renard,” she said. “You made it.”
“I couldn’t turn down your lovely invitation. Not when you know I have such a vested personal interest in Simon’s success.”
Marilyn studied me closely, focusing on the burns on my face. I saw the moment she registered the hand pattern, the slightest quirk of one eyebrow.
I took the gems from Scath and held them out to Marilyn. “Of course I’ve brought a small token of our appreciation. I can only imagine how many people would be envious if they knew you’d invited me to share in this triumph with you.”
Marilyn didn’t take her eyes off me as she gestured for the butler to take the jewels, and the sour man lifted a silver tray from a table beside the door. I hissed in exaggerated pain, drawing his and Marilyn’s attention before the butler could notice the damage to the window.
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s still fresh.”
“I see. And whose hands left that impression, if I might ask?”
I emptied the handfuls of jewels onto the offered silver tray. “I think that will become clear momentarily.”
Now I had her interest. “Of course. I’m happy to see you. Please come in.” She glanced at Scath. “I don’t believe I caught your name?”
“This is Scath,” I told Marilyn, quickly stepping over the threshold to claim guest status. “She’s my bodyguard.”
Marilyn nodded, and with just a hint of hesitation, led us farther into her home. I’d been there before, and when the sickeningly familiar scents of paint, wine, and wilderness wrapped around me, it took effort to keep moving. To stop recalling the last time I’d been here. And what that night had cost. My boots were silent on the perfectly polished dark wood floors.
The rest of her company waited in the large room just off the foyer where Marilyn stood to greet her guests. I wasn’t surprised to find Devanos and Vazkasi there with Catherine and Alicia. As I’d expected, Devanos wasn’t wearing his “dad” glamour. Now Catherine’s father looked more like he was her brother, with a youthful face that might have gotten him carded for trying to buy lottery tickets, and a suit that could have been borrowed from an eccentric grandfather. When he saw me, he narrowed his eyes and leaned down to whisper something in Catherine’s ear.
Alicia didn’t notice me at first. She was gushing over Catherine, touching her hair and her dress, fussing like a child wi
th a new doll. Whether or not she’d known about Catherine’s theft before my snooping, she obviously thought she would be the beneficiary.
I hoped she was right.
Vazkasi looked bored, but he perked up when he saw me. I’d have liked to think it was for some other reason than that he expected my appearance to lead to trouble, but I knew better.
Alicia’s bubbly manner fizzed out as soon as she saw me. Apprehension gripped her body as she turned, giving me a glimpse of the patch she wore over the eye I’d ruined with iron filings. She could have used a glamour to hide the damage, but wearing glamour to the home of a sidhe who hadn’t given permission to do so was considered rude. Alicia had opted for a white eye patch set with gold inlay that looked like a flickering flame. I smiled when I saw her. Her good eye narrowed.
“I believe you all know one another,” Marilyn announced. “Mother Renard has graciously accepted my invitation to be here tonight for a first glimpse of Simon’s exquisite artwork.”
She didn’t introduce Scath, but that was normal. Bodyguards were servants, and they were never introduced.
Simon’s attention was all for Catherine, but when Marilyn said my name, he forced himself to look my way, if only for the barest polite acknowledgment. Then he saw my face and the hand-shaped burns. His eyes widened, and his lips parted. Before anyone could react, he took off out of the room at a run.
“Don’t mind him,” Marilyn said. “He probably just remembered a final touch he wants to give to his painting. Artists, they’re never satisfied with their own work, are they? Of course I encourage him to action when the mood strikes him.”
I didn’t share her optimism. My legs ached to run after Simon and find out what that look had been about. Why he’d run. But he wouldn’t leave the property, not tonight, and not without Marilyn’s permission. And if he’d run off because he was the thief, then it wasn’t up to me to stop him. Yet.
“Good evening, Mother Renard,” Alicia said sweetly. “How are your poor cheeks feeling?”
I glanced her way in time to see her step forward to stand beside Marilyn. The two women shared a moment of amusement as Alicia made sure to claim credit for my disfigurement, and it occurred to me that injuring me had put Alicia in a place of favor with the leannan sidhe.
The half-vulcanus gave me a smug look, and I felt my temper snap. I would not begin this evening as a subject of mockery. With my shoulders squared and my expression calm, I locked my gaze with hers and thought of the iron filings I had left in the pouch. I thought of pouring the rest of them into her other eye.
“My cheeks are warm and rosy,” I answered, sweetening my voice to match hers without letting my stare falter. “How’s your eye? Still there?”
The smile melted from Alicia’s face and though she didn’t step back, she did tilt her body away from me. Subconsciously making herself a smaller target. I thought she would retreat, but Marilyn patted her on the shoulder, and immediately the half-vulcanus brightened. Apparently, having a high-ranking new best friend was worth whatever I might do to her.
I turned to Catherine. The half-sidhe smoothed a hand down her pink cocktail dress, her palm grazing the spot where I knew the knife would once again be strapped to her thigh. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me.
“It’s nice to see you again, Catherine.” I stepped closer to her, ignoring the way both Devanos and Vazkasi tensed.
Vazkasi drew himself up as I approached, as if he needed to make himself any taller to be intimidating. Marilyn favored natural light, but there was very little moonlight to filter through the skylights, so the room was largely lit by fire. The fireplace in the center of the room crackled with a large flame that was mirrored in the smaller wall sconces. Nothing showed a dragon off to their best advantage like flame, and the light was doing all kinds of favors for Vazkasi’s patches of gold scales. And his eyes.
But after the day I’d had, even a dragon didn’t scare me.
I held out my hand, focusing solidly on Catherine. “I was wondering if I could see your knife again?”
Catherine looked taken aback. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“Don’t tell me you’re worried I’ll steal it?” I gestured at her father and the dragon guard. “Not with them standing right here? And of course your loving auntie on the other side?”
Concerned looks bounced between Devanos and Vazkasi, Marilyn and Alicia, Marilyn and Devanos, and finally Catherine and Alicia. I smiled, deliberately stretching the wounds on my taut burned cheeks into a more discomfiting display. Catherine shifted uneasily. No one spoke.
“I’d like to see if the knife you have is still the real one,” I told Catherine in a loud, fake whisper. “There’s been a rash of forgeries, you know.”
Devanos stepped up and put his hand on his daughter’s back. “It’s all right, Catherine. Mother Renard isn’t going to steal your knife.”
His intervention drew my attention, and I noticed that Catherine’s father seemed much paler now. I’d dismissed it before, assuming the difference was related to the fact he wasn’t wearing his dad glamour. But this close it looked like maybe he wasn’t feeling well.
I tried not to stare, but a scar on the side of his neck snagged my attention. I would have sworn he hadn’t had that before. A new injury? Sidhe healed fast, so it was likely the wound was recent.
Devanos caught me looking and turned. The movement let me see the other side of his neck. And the matching scar on his other side.
Curiouser and curiouser.
Catherine didn’t look happy about it, but she lifted her skirt enough to remove the knife from its sheath and handed it to me, hilt first. I took it and made a show of examining it.
“It’s smooth, worn down by age.” I craned my neck. “Peasblossom, can you confirm the runes are the same?”
That was her cue. Peasblossom crawled out from under my hair and climbed down my arm like a monkey over a tree branch. She hopped onto the knife and put her finger on the runes, pretending to read them silently to herself.
“While I’m on the subject,” I said, raising my voice to command attention. “I’d like to ask everyone here if any of you stole the chalice from the museum? Or the bowl from poor Mr. Masters? You all remember Mr. Masters? He was murdered by someone desperate to get their hands on his piece of the set?”
Now everyone was staring at me like I’d lost my mind. The kind of look that said they thought it would be best if I left, but no one had the gumption to say it to my face.
I’d never felt so much like a witch. Mother Hazel would be proud.
Scath shifted to put herself between me and the dragon. Not enough that Vazkasi would mistake it for an attempt to shield me while I made a grab for the knife, but just enough that I caught her expression in my peripheral vision. She was grinning.
No one confessed. At least I knew no one in the room had used the artifacts yet.
While I accused everyone in the room of being a thief, Peasblossom released the spell I’d given her. I felt the magic take hold, felt the energy seep into one of the runes, laying another, invisible rune over top of it. Peasblossom waited for the spell to snap into place, then looked up at me.
“It’s the original. No forgery here.”
I smiled and held out my palm so I could lift her back to my shoulder. “Excellent. Devanos, it seems the bodyguard you hired for your daughter has done well.”
The rest of the guests let out a collective sigh.
“Well, I think we’ve given Simon enough time,” Marilyn said briskly. “I can’t wait for all of you to see his work. He’s come so far.”
I kept my smile pinned to my face, and made sure to make eye contact with everyone in turn as they all followed Marilyn. Then I fell in behind them. Let them walk with their backs to the unstable witch.
I grabbed a handful of magic and hurled it out in a silver net over the march of suspects in front of me. The detection spell flared with color when it touched Devanos, the sparks of magic lighting up a
t his wrists. I latched onto that interesting tidbit, focused on it until thoughts of contract violations and curse victims faded to the back of my mind.
His cuff links were enchanted. I could tell the spell had something to do with metal detection, but I couldn’t tell exactly what metal it was meant to detect. Probably gold.
But what good would that do him? The forgeries were gold too. Maybe the lord had sticky fingers and was looking for more gold to supply his daughter’s artistic endeavors? Seemed petty. Especially for someone of his station.
Scath moved to my side as if she could feel my anxiety. She bent down and scooped something off the floor, and I winced as she thrust Majesty into my arms. I was familiar with the literature proclaiming animal therapy to be beneficial to those with anxiety problems, but I didn’t think those articles took into account animals that could call lightning. Or rhinos.
We followed Marilyn down the hall, stopping in a large room I remembered from the last time I’d been here. Back then, it had been crowded with dividers, all of them heavy with works of art by various children who’d been lured away from local homeless shelters. Now there was only one wall, with two paintings on it. My fellow guests crowded around it, and immediately the room filled with a low murmur of voices. For a second, I was distracted by memories of the last time I’d been in this room, my attention drawn to the hallway I’d followed to find Lindsay… Then I realized my fellow guests were all looking at me. I turned to the paintings—and froze.
The first painting depicted Simon standing triumphantly over a woman lying bloody and broken on a forest floor. He had his bare foot on her chest, and his face was turned up to the moonlight. Silver light illuminated his fierce angelic features, and drew attention to the section of his chest bared by the unbuttoned dress shirt he wore casually over a pair of battered blue jeans.
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