Ghost Light (Ivy Granger, Psychic Detective)

by Stevens, E. J.

  Chapter 11

  Twenty-four hours ago, I’d juggled an armful of shopping bags while Jinx shopped on The Hill. Now I walked Market Street again, Ceff at my side. He was a lot more fun to look at than my roommate. My kelpie king boyfriend climbed the hill in a fitted dress shirt tucked into dark blue jeans that showed off some of his most attractive assets. I licked my lips, pulse racing. How did I, a grouchy half-breed, end up with such a dreamy guy?

  I shook my head and turned my attention to The Hill and its inhabitants. I took a quick double-step forward to bring myself alongside Ceff. Walking behind him, and his gorgeous butt, was a distraction I couldn’t afford.

  We both scanned the streets for clues and any sign of Melusine, wisps, or the cat sidhe. To passersby we probably looked like a couple out trolling for fun before hitting the bars.

  I let my arms hang loose, alert to any threats. My leather jacket covered the throwing knives strapped to my wrists and the stakes tucked into my belt. I had additional anti-fae charms securely stashed in my pockets and an iron dagger in my right boot.

  Ceff was also armed. Before leaving the loft, I’d asked for a closer look at the weapon he had strapped to his leg. He’d pulled up his pant leg and slid the weapon from an ankle sheath that looked suspiciously like it had been crafted from thick seaweed.

  I’d been correct earlier. Ceff’s weapon was a trident, a deadly three-pronged spear. With a flick of Ceff’s wrist, the piercing end had shot out from a telescoping handle. The weapon, like the man, was impressive.

  Now Ceff walked the street with sinuous grace, his weapon and the speed of a race horse at the ready. I pulled my phone from my jacket pocket and double-checked the map. We were close to the first home on our list.

  “This way,” I said. I nodded to the street approaching on our right. “Two kids were taken from homes on Baker’s Row—a bean-tighe and a nixie.”

  I started to turn down Baker’s Row, the smell of bread and sweets making my mouth water, when I realized that Ceff was no longer at my side. I turned to see him halt mid-stride, an incredulous look on his face.

  “A nixie, here?” he asked.

  Nixies weren’t known for city living, especially not high atop a hill away from any bodies of water. Nixies, a type of water nymph, typically lived in freshwater streams, brooks, or rivers. Joysen Hill was an unusual location for any water fae, but one of the families who called in a missing child had reported their address as the water fountain on Baker’s Row.

  “Yes,” I said. “I think they live in the water fountain at Merrion Square.”

  We came to Merrion Square first. Narrow Baker’s Row widened where it intersected with Grant Street, opening onto a small park. Parks were rare for this part of town and shoppers took advantage of the space. Every bench was taken, filled with people sitting with coffees and baked goods or shifty eyed men making dubious business deals. The fountain sat directly ahead at the park’s center.

  “Might as well take a look around,” I said.

  I sighed and walked the park’s perimeter. It was doubtful we’d find anything helpful. Too many people had passed through the area since the kidnapping. When the perimeter search turned up nothing, I started pacing the park, working in a classic grid pattern. Aside from discarded paper cups, condoms, and cigarette butts, I found nothing.

  I joined Ceff beside the fountain where he spoke in burbling whistles and trills to a beautiful, naked woman. Long, green hair hung artfully around her body like waves, partially covering her breasts. I tilted my head, letting my own hair fall to cover my face. I could feel my cheeks and ears burn red.

  In other circumstances I might have been jealous, but the blue skinned, green haired woman was crying and wringing her hands. We had found our nixie family.

  No one batted an eye at the naked woman standing in the fountain. I stole a glance from the corner of my eye and confirmed what I’d suspected. The nixie was hiding behind a glamour that only Ceff and I could see through. To passersby, the nixie was just a foamy spray of water from the fountain.

  Ceff speaking to thin air in the trilling, nixie language was bound to look strange, but maybe people just thought he was making bird calls. Then again, we were on Joysen Hill. It probably didn’t matter what people thought. Even during the day, people tended to mind their own business.

  “She says that her child was safely beneath the water when she went to sleep last night, but this morning when she awoke, the child was gone,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “That matches what our other clients have reported,” I said. “Ask if she’s noticed any suspicious activity lately around the park.”

  Ceff trilled the question and the nixie flapped her hands, pointing to groups of men who were obviously up to no good. When she finished, she tugged at her hair and moaned.

  “She said that the humans here always act suspicious, but she thought her family was safe since they were carefully hidden behind a glamour,” he said. “No human would have been able to steal her child, and the fae who live on this part of The Hill tend to keep to themselves. She wasn’t aware of any danger. She thought the child was safe.”

  “Tell her that we’ll do our best to bring her child home,” I said.

  My chest tightened as I walked away. I had promised to bring these kids home, but so far, I had no helpful leads, only questions. I checked the angle of the sun and sighed. The day was passing much too quickly.

  Ceff drew up beside me, matching my stride as I hurried to the next address on our list. I wasn’t running away from the crying nixie, really. Maybe if I kept telling myself that, I might even start to believe it.

  “Did you find anything?” he asked.

  “No,” I said shaking my head. “This place is too public. If the kidnappers did leave any clues, they’re long gone.”

  Searching the park and questioning the mother had been a bust.

  “We must find the children,” he said. He clenched his fists at his sides, eyes filled with emotion.

  “Let’s take a look at the bean-tighe residence,” I said. I blinked rapidly and pulled out my phone to check the address. I already knew the address by heart, but it gave me an excuse to look away. Meeting Ceff’s gaze hurt too damn much. He had suffered the loss of his own children and I was feeling guilty for not claiming the wisp throne in time to stop these kidnappings. “This way.”

  We walked the next two blocks in silence, which was fine by me. I used the time to practice the breathing exercises Jenna had taught me. Whether battling monsters or my own emotions, the series of inhalations and exhalations helped to focus my mind and calm my racing pulse. I couldn’t afford the complication of glowing skin right now. I managed to escape unnoticed yesterday, but I didn’t expect my luck to hold.

  I turned into the mouth of an alley that ran perpendicular to Baker’s Row. Unlike most alleys on The Hill, this one was swept clean and smelled like strawberries. This was definitely the place.

  The bean-tighe family lived on the third floor in a small, efficiency apartment accessed by a fire escape bolted to the brick wall. I was pretty sure that having a fire escape as the only entrance or exit was against code, which meant the building was probably owned by vampires. Vamps are prolific landlords on The Hill and their rental properties tended to be just as cold, dusty, and decayed as their owners.

  The one thing vampire landlords care about is bleeding their tenants dry. The bloodsuckers didn’t bother to keep their buildings up to code. If renters fall to their deaths due to a shortage of safety features, the vamps are quick to sweep the incident under the rug—and feed the body to one of their pet ghouls.

  If vamps were keeping tabs on the property, it was possible that a vamp saw something the night of the kidnappings. One more question for the vampire council. Of course, if a vamp was behind the abductions, the council wasn’t likely to pass along any helpful witness accounts. Vampires were experts at pulling strings and making problems disappear. Their Machiavellian machinations we
re legendary. I’d have to use caution when it was time to question the vamps, or they may decide to make me disappear.

  I shivered and rubbed the slight bumps my knives made beneath my jacket sleeves, glad to have Ceff at my back. Ceff followed me further into the alley and I walked past the fire escape, checking the darkest corners for clues. Most of the secrets in this city could be discovered by poking around the shadowed corners of Joysen Hill.

  I pulled a small penlight from my jacket and shone it along the ground and up brick walls. I reached the far corner and bent down for a closer look. The ground was worn smooth in a peculiar, circular pattern. I fanned the light over the spirals until I found what I was looking for. A shiny, green scale protruded from a crevice in the pavement.

  I produced a clear, plastic baggy and tweezers from an inside pocket and wiggled the scale free. I rocked back on my heels and held it under the light. I couldn’t tell if it was of fish or snake origin, but I had a bad feeling that it wasn’t from any natural creature.

  “Find anything?” Ceff asked.

  I lowered the scale, shielding it with my body. I forced myself to grin and flashed Ceff a smile over my shoulder.

  “Nothing yet,” I said. “Can you go on up and get started with the bean-tighe? You’re better at talking with people and I want to check the alley one more time. I’ll join you in a minute.”

  Ceff raised an eyebrow, but nodded. I heard him pull down the fire escape and climb to the bean-tighe’s window. I pretended to continue my search for clues as Ceff’s voice floated down from above. After a brief conversation between Ceff and two female voices, he entered the apartment.

  When I heard the window close behind him, I lowered the tweezers and the scale onto the plastic bag and took a deep breath. I had to know if the scale was related to the kidnappings, but this was something I had to do alone. If my suspicions were correct, I needed time to figure out how to break the news to Ceff. And if I was wrong, he never had to be bothered with theories that would only open old wounds.

  I pulled a cheap mouthguard, the kind used for contact sports, out of my pocket and slid it between my teeth. It was a new purchase I’d only experimented with a few times, but the object made screaming nearly impossible. It made me drool like a slavering barguest, but my philosophy is that it’s better to slobber all over myself than to attract unwanted attention screaming. If the mouthguard helped prevent a chipped tooth, that was a bonus.

  I stole one last glance at the empty fire escape and the closed window above. Ceff would be inside for at least fifteen minutes, consoling and interviewing the bean-tighe family, before looking for me. Hopefully, I’d be done in time.

  I clumsily pulled the glove from my left hand. With shaking fingers, I reached out and grasped the scale that was shining iridescent in the flashlight beam. A hissing sound roared in my ears and I used my gloved hand to steady myself against the brick wall. Reality blurred and slid, and a cascade of vertiginous images joined the hissing in my head. Bricks, mortar, pavement, fire escape, and a patch of midday sky melted and mixed together like a stirred reflection in a mud puddle, leaving only the murky depths of a vision.

  I pushed past the storm of emotions raging through the vision like a tempest, and tried to open my inner eye. With an act of will, I tuned out the cacophony of hissing and rattling that assaulted my ears and focused on what I could see. The alien perspective was perplexing, but the reflection in the fog shrouded puddle was familiar. My suspicion was correct.

  The serpent scale belonged to Melusine.

  A flicker of light reflected off the puddle and Melusine looked up to see a cloud of wisps exit the window above. A small bean-tighe followed, riding a broom.

  That explained the difficult climb to the third floor apartment. If bean-tighe can fly, then the fire escape was adequate. It also answered another question I’d had regarding these faeries. Bean-tighe are always depicted as wizened old women with rosy cheeks and wrinkled faces. Now I knew why.

  Evidently, bean-tighe are born looking like miniature versions of their parents. The child astride the broom was smaller than an adult bean-tighe, but had the characteristic wrinkles on its cherubic face. A kerchief covered her head, but strands of gray hair escaped to blow in the wind. The child was smiling and chasing the wisps as they flew down the alley.

  Melusine shifted through feelings of pleasure, satisfaction, pain, loss, jealousy, and rage as she slithered in the shadows. The woman was as unstable as a dwarf on a surfboard. Melusine’s serpent body coiled and uncoiled rhythmically and her tail lashed the wall. The lamia seemed impatient to follow the child, but instead she waited.

  “Sssoon my sssweet,” she said.

  Something cold slithered over Melusine’s shoulder. I held my breath as a thick bodied snake coiled around her neck. Black scales were nearly lost in the shadows, but the pale underbelly and yellow tail caught the moonlight. Melusine had herself a pet water moccasin, a venomous pit viper.

  She reached out and caressed the snake affectionately on the head. Melusine was eager to chase the child, but stroking her pet seemed to calm her as she waited. The wisps exited the alley ahead of the tiny bean-tighe, and a flute began to play. I forgot all about the snake.

  A beautiful, lilting melody was coming from beyond the alley. The song tugged at me, threatening to pull my soul deeper into the vision. It was a sound I could follow forever.

  I couldn’t see the piper, but I longed to run down the alley and dance into his or her arms. I knew, without a doubt, that they were the most wonderful person I’d ever meet. This musician was someone I’d jump off a cliff for.

  I shook my ghost-like head. Running into a stranger’s arms? Jumping off a cliff? That was crazy talk. I willed myself to remain rooted to where Melusine slithered in the dark, but I longed to follow the flute player to the ends of the earth.

  Apparently the alley’s vermin felt the same way.

  Mice and moles, even a flying squirrel, scurried to follow the music, but their numbers were nothing compared to the rats. Huge rats with long tails and big teeth poured down the walls, out of crevices, up from sewer grates, and into the alley. The ground writhed and rippled in a sea of mangy, dun brown fur.

  I felt compelled to dance down the alley after them. If I hadn’t been practicing my mind focusing skills recently, I may have let my soul wander, trapping me in this vision forever. It would be so easy to give in, to just let go.

  Instead, I focused on Melusine. The snake at her neck scented the air with its tongue, probably wishing it could grab a tasty rodent snack for the road. But Melusine ignored her pet. She slithered from side to side, pacing the narrow width of the alley. When the flute music could no longer be heard, she rushed forward and the vision went dark.

  The scale had torn from Melusine’s body, becoming lodged in the small crevice in the pavement, ending the vision.

  I blinked rapidly as my eyesight and hearing began to return. The world around me coalesced into blurry shapes, but sound was muffled as if my ears were stuffed with cotton wool. I took a ragged breath and shook my head. My naked hand became visible and I flinched, dropping the serpent scale.

  I pulled on my leather glove and sighed. The vision was difficult to shake, the piper’s music still floating though my mind, but it could have been much worse. My suspicions had been correct. Melusine was involved in the kidnappings.

  I swallowed hard, feeling the blood drain from my face. I had been lucky, this time. If the lamia hadn’t shed her serpent skin recently, I could have been trapped in more than just one moment in time. Melusine had lived for a millennium and she’d been crazy for at least a few hundred of those years. I had been a fool to touch anything belonging to that woman. But at least now I had a lead in the kidnapping case.

  Too bad it was going to tear Ceff apart.

  When no one else had seen Melusine on Market Street yesterday, I secretly hoped that she’d been a figment of my imagination. But this ghost from Ceff’s past was real and she was ob
viously involved in the abduction of the faerie children.

  I didn’t have a clue as to why Melusine was stealing children, but I knew who I’d have to ask. My shoulders drooped. This wasn’t a normal interrogation I was considering. If I started asking questions about Ceff’s ex-wife, there was no going back.

  I quickly returned the scale to the plastic bag and tucked it into my pocket. I jerked upright and headed for the nearest sewer grate. I’d have to talk to Ceff, but first I had another lead to follow up on.

  Someone had been playing a flute that night and I had a nagging suspicion that the musician was fae. Faerie music has a peculiar effect on humans. Most humans, even half-breeds like me, may become overwhelmed with the urge to dance to faerie music. The compulsion can be so great that the person becomes cursed to dance until the music stops or they die from exhaustion, whichever comes first.

  But I’d never heard of a faerie whose music could captivate other fae, not to mention an entire horde of rats. Were fae vulnerable to the compulsion of faerie music as children? It was something I needed to find out.

  I kicked at the sewer grate, but it was securely anchored. I crouched down, shining my flashlight between the metal slats into the darkness below. No beady eyes shone back at me, no alligators in the sewer either, just filthy, stagnant water in the bottom of a large drainage pipe that branched off toward the street.

  I angled the flashlight beam to the right and found something interesting. The sides of the pipe were covered in hundreds of tiny, muddy footprints like the ones a horde of rats might make. But it couldn’t have been an easy climb. In fact, the broken bodies of more than one rat lay in the water below. So why had the rats abandoned their warm, wet sewer warrens for the chilly city streets?

  I stood and walked back out toward Baker’s Row, pacing the ground carefully. The alley had seemed clean at first glance. There were no piles of refuse, urine soaked cardboard boxes, or newspaper tumbleweeds, but I did find rodent feces. The small, dark pellets were easy to miss and easier still to explain away. If I hadn’t witnessed the rats in the vision, I wouldn’t have thought the scat was relevant. But the rats had been here the night of the kidnapping. I just didn’t know why. Had they been lured into the alley solely by the piper’s music?