It was only then he noticed Eilidh’s eyes were fixed near the back door, which stood open. “This was the source,” she said quietly.
“We have to go,” Munro insisted. Just as he turned, a movement caught his eye. He spun back, and a figure appeared in the garden. It didn’t slip out of the shadows, it appeared. “What the…?”
He caught the sharp silhouette of a curved ear as the figure turned toward the sound of his voice and heard a faint mutter. As quickly as it had appeared, it vanished.
A car door shut in front of the house. Munro heard the familiar squawk of a police radio. They couldn’t leave by the front now, and he couldn’t get caught here. Eilidh seemed to sense his urgency. She pulled him into the back garden and left the gate banging in the breeze. With practised steps, she glided over the stone path toward the fence, vaulting over it with ease. Munro copied her movements, although he felt more awkward. He found his magically enhanced speed and strength made up for the lack of grace, and he landed easily on the other side.
They snuck through the other back garden and onto the street toward the town centre, moving quickly, but with Eilidh able to glide more silently than he. Something cold touched his cheek, and Munro looked up. Snowflakes like fat goose feathers floated from above. It was only then Munro realised that despite the wind and the wet, he wasn’t cold at all.
Chapter 8
Munro watched Eilidh go through the Ashdawn gate, savouring the rich air coming through it. He hadn’t realised how long he’d stared at it until rustling brush made him realise he wasn’t alone. He turned warily, then stood stock still as one by one, Watchers filed past him, stepping into the Otherworld. As the sun rose, the last in line shut the gate behind him. It locked with a strange clanging echo, then shimmered out of sight.
He hoped Eilidh made it to the gate nearest Skye before it closed, but he knew she could travel quickly in the Otherworld. He hadn’t understood it, but he also wasn’t surprised to hear the normal laws of physics didn’t quite apply.
With nothing more to do there, he turned and ran toward home. He and Eilidh had hardly spoken on the way back from Auchterarder. She said only that she needed to go to Skye, and he didn’t argue. He had to be at work in the morning, well, in less than an hour, now that he thought about it, so there wasn’t time for a talk. All he’d said was, “He lied to us.”
“I know,” she said. Her thoughts were far away though, and they didn’t have time to make a plan. His plan would have been to tell His Highness to shove it up his arse. Oh, his kid might have run away all right, but Griogair had left out some critical details, that was for sure. It was difficult to tell if the faerie Munro saw in the back garden looked like the portrait of light the prince had shown them, considering how fast everything went and how strange and blurry he appeared. But Munro knew it was Griogair’s kid. As much of a kid as a hundred and seventy-five-year-old faerie could be. With all the things Griogair did tell them, he’d left out the part about, oh, disappearing into thin air.
Half an hour later, Munro was at work. The strength and speed he’d acquired from his visit to the Otherworld had perks. It took all his willpower to get in his car and drive to work as usual.
Around lunchtime, he and Getty were back at the station filling in endless paperwork. Sergeant Hallward stormed into the room, his fury not settling until he cast an eye on Munro. “Police Constable Quinton Munro,” he said evenly.
Getty glanced at his partner and muttered, “Shit. What have you done now?”
“I don’t know,” Munro said quietly, then called out, “Yes, Sarge?”
Hallward crooked his finger. “Come with me.”
Munro stood and followed his boss down the beige corridor. It was a quiet day, but other officers strode here and there, giving the station a feeling of orchestrated urgency.
Hallward stopped in front of an ugly brown door. He opened it and pointed. “In there,” he barked.
Inside was a table, a couple of chairs, and a television on a rolling black stand. Without another word, Hallward slipped a disk into the box under the telly. “You want to explain this?” he asked as the video started to play.
Munro watched slightly grainy CCTV footage flick onto the screen. It immediately showed him. And Eilidh. In Auchterarder the previous night. The clip looked like it came from a security camera mounted above an intersection. He watched as the silent footage played out. He recognised the moments after they’d left the house where they’d seen Tràth. “Sarge,” he started, then stopped when he saw his own eyes shining in the darkness. It could have been a trick of the bad street lighting, but they both knew better.
“Wait,” Hallward said, holding up his hand. “This isn’t the best part.”
After a few moments of watching him and Eilidh talk, Munro realised he’d been standing out in the snow in just a shirt. No jacket, no nothing. When had he taken his jacket off? He didn’t even look like he’d noticed. But then he saw what caught Hallward’s eye even more than him surfacing on CCTV footage near a potential crime scene. Suddenly, he and Eilidh nodded to one another, then stepped into a run. It looked so strange, especially considering how natural it felt to do. They moved like the video was on fast forward, but the snow continued to drift in front of the camera, adding further contrast to the now long-gone couple.
“Sarge,” he repeated, then realised he wasn’t sure what to say.
“You can explain?” Hallward raised an eyebrow.
“I could. Do you want the truth?” Munro couldn’t see any point in acting like it was nothing. The digital recording spoke for itself. Kind of. Then again, the sarge had seen some pretty strange things back in the summer when a blood faerie turned out to be a serial killer, and like the hardened copper he was, he took them in stride.
“Let’s sit down.” Hallward pulled out a chair and sat, looking at Munro expectantly.
With only a moment of hesitation, Munro joined him. “The thing is, it’s going to sound crazy.”
“Tell me this. Can you do anything besides run fast?”
“It’s all new, mind you, but I’m strong too. I heal quickly, and I can see in the dark. They said I will live longer, and my endurance is pretty unbelievable. I ran all the way to Auchterarder without even breathing hard.”
“They?”
Munro lifted a shoulder ever so slightly, then realised it was a distinctly fae-like shrug. Christ. For a moment, he feared he might be turning into one of them.
“I’m ordering a drug test.”
“What?”
Hallward said, “Look, I believe you, but I want to know.”
Munro nodded. “I don’t actually know what a blood test will show, but we’ll find out.”
Hallward didn’t seem particularly happy with that reply, but he let it go. “Tell me what you know about Auchterarder.”
“Not a lot, and that’s the truth. A friend of Eilidh’s asked me to look into a situation. One of their people is missing. And that led me to Auchterarder. I didn’t find much of use.”
Hallward leaned back in the chair, putting his hands behind his head and looking at the ceiling. He sat that way for a few minutes. “Damn, son, how long before everyone starts to notice you can run like The Flash?”
“I can tone it down in front of people.”
“Yeah, and you will. But what I’m saying is there’s weird shit going on, and you seem to know what it is. I’m not wasting you writing reports and kettling drunks when I have the only expert I’ve ever heard of on whatever the hell this is. There are ways we can use you, starting with Auchterarder.”
“Why? What happened?” Munro couldn’t help it. His curiosity about the case overrode his worry about his job or his uncertainty about what Hallward had in mind. They’d get to that.
“Your girlfriend isn’t the only one with a missing persons situation. That house, you saw it?”
“Aye,” Munro said.
“Did you see anyone else?”
“A copper pulled up just as
we got to the back garden, so we legged it.”
Hallward rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because identifying yourself would have been out of the question.” He paused a beat. “Sarah McBride called treble nine at 5:03 AM, saying she had a burglar. I want you to listen to the playback, by the way. You’ll understand why when you hear it. When PC Dorman arrived at 5:23 AM, he found an open door and an empty house.”
Munro nodded, picturing it in his head.
“PC Dorman immediately radioed in what he found, and by 6:30 AM, the local night shift sergeant was on site, and house-to-house enquiries had begun. No one answered their door.”
“No one?” Most people would be home that time of day. Sure, one or two might not answer no matter how they banged on the door, but someone should have been about.
Hallward nodded. “By 10:00 AM we established that every house within three hundred yards was empty, with one exception. Janice and Thomas Flemming disappeared from their house during the night, two streets over. They were reported missing by their children, thirteen-year-old Michael and eleven-year-old Sophie. The children’s bedrooms were on the south side of the house.”
Munro frowned. “Furthest away from the McBrides.”
“We aren’t going to be able to keep this completely quiet, not with so many people missing, and it won’t be long before we’re overrun with psychics and UFO spotters. I’ll do what I can, but after seeing this,” Hallward pointed toward the telly, “I’m fairly well convinced this is one of those cases where your expertise will come in handy.”
“I need to talk to Eilidh,” Munro said.
“You do what you have to do, but keep in touch. You’ll be assigned to a special project for me. For right now, you report only to me, and I’ll get the information you need from the DCI handling the official Auchterarder case.” Hallward stood and looked down at Munro. “You don’t know where they are?”
Munro shook his head. “No. And I can’t promise results. Eilidh said the magic felt alien to her, so we don’t know much more than you do.” He paused. “I never thought I’d be talking about magic with you.”
“Let’s keep that to a minimum. You figure out who took those people and how we can get them back. I don’t need to know the specifics.” Hallward chuckled.
“Aye, Sarge. I hear you.”
“Then get to work.”
* * *
Munro listened to the treble nine call, which definitely ended on a strange note. The last sentence sounded warped. He asked the dispatcher if something could have gone wrong with the phone or phone line, and she simply said, “Must’ve. What else could it be?”
Hallward gave him copies of the reports, then sent Munro home so he wouldn’t have to deal with awkward questions from other cops. The sarge didn’t want anyone to know Munro was working on this particular case.
He sat in his living room with the files spread out on a coffee table. The incident had only happened that morning, but they’d gathered as much information as possible. Munro had also asked for copies of all the CCTV recordings, and Hallward said Munro would have the full set as soon as possible. The sergeant gave him stills from the nearby speed cameras, but Munro knew they wouldn’t be of any use. Even if Tràth was involved in these disappearances, he certainly didn’t get there by car.
No, what Munro especially wanted to see was the rest of the camera angles from nearby shops or bank ATMs that might have caught an image of Tràth or who he might be with. The glimpse Munro caught of Tràth in the McBride’s garden didn’t tell him much.
Most of all, he needed to talk to Eilidh. He looked at his watch, then grabbed the duffle bag he never seemed to unpack, thanks to all the trips to Skye, and headed to his car. He’d just locked his front door when the phone in his front hall rang. It occurred to him to pretend he hadn’t heard it, but it might be someone from work. “Ah, dammit.” He unlocked the door and raced inside to catch the call before it went to voicemail.
“Yeah,” he said sharply, almost dropping the phone as he yanked it off the cradle.
“Hey, Quinton. Did I catch you at a bad time? It’s Phillip.”
Munro stopped short. Phillip was a water druid, the only one of Frankie’s friends who called him regularly after his cousin’s death. “Nah, that’s fine. I was on my way out, but I’ve been meaning to call you. I have some news.” He carried the phone to the sofa and sat down. He’d been so busy, he hadn’t given much thought to what the Higher Conclave asked him to do, but now was as good a time as any.
“Oh yeah? What’s up?”
“The faeries on Skye want to meet you guys.” Munro outlined the invitation and the stipulation he’d placed about none of them getting bonded against their will.
“Whoa. I guess I thought it was rare. I suppose I’ve wondered, but you know how they are.” His tone was halting, as though he struggled to take in the news.
By they, Munro assumed Phillip meant the fae. After what had happened with Cridhe, their original mentor and the one who’d gathered the druids together in the first place, the group had been reluctant to meet Eilidh and distrustful at first. They eventually warmed to her, but they always relaxed when she left.
“Are you interested?” Munro asked.
“I think so. It can’t hurt to meet them, right?”
“There’s more you should know.” Munro explained his and Eilidh’s experience with their magical bond. They’d talked about it before, but now he wanted to impress on Phillip the intimate and sometimes oppressive feeling of having someone else in your head all the time. But he also shared the newfound benefits: strength, seeing in the dark, speed and stamina. What he left out was that he hadn’t experienced any of that until he’d gone to the Otherworld. Nobody could know about that little jaunt.
“It’s a lot to think about,” Phillip said.
“You can always say no. They won’t force you.”
“The thing is, I dunno, it seems right somehow. Like that’s the way it’s meant to be. Like I’m not quite all here, if you know what I’m saying.”
Munro knew exactly what he meant. Once his own druidic powers were unlocked, he experienced a deep need. When he laid eyes on Eilidh, he knew she was the only one who could fill it. Fortunately for him, the two events happened close together. The other druids, though, had all been unlocked by Cridhe, who already had a bonded druid. So they were left feeling empty. Munro saw that now for the first time.
“Listen, I’m on my way to Skye now. I have to get there as soon as possible.” He hesitated, but he couldn’t think of a way to explain without talking about things he shouldn’t. “Will you talk to the others? Anyone who wants to go ahead within the next couple of days should come to Skye. Go to Portree when you’re ready and give me a call. There’s no rush. Anyone who needs more time to think it over can have it. I doubt the conclave will give up asking, but one thing you can say for faeries is they’re patient.”
“Okay,” Phillip said. “I’ll have everyone around tonight.”
After they said goodbye, Munro picked up his bag and slung it over his back. Turning his thoughts away from the druids, he got in his car and followed the internal compass that would lead him straight to Eilidh.
Chapter 9
By the time Munro reached the fae village centre, he felt tired. Sometime during his travel, he felt Eilidh’s presence grow distant. She must have gone to the Otherworld. He headed straight for Oron’s, hoping she’d left him a message.
Alyssa, Oron’s granddaughter, was the only one at home. “Hello, Quinton Munro.” She greeted him at the door.
He couldn’t help but smile. “You can call me Quinton.”
When she returned his smile, she shone with beauty. “You honour me, Quinton.” She fidgeted with her braid, a most human-like gesture. Faeries rarely allowed themselves to appear impatient or restless, but he had to remind himself that she was, by their standards, quite young, being closer to his age than to Eilidh’s and fifty years away from reaching adulthood. Although physically m
ature, she had a softness about her that the so-called adult fae didn’t. “Eilidh will return soon from the Otherworld. The Higher Conclave sent a message to Queen Cadhla.” She touched his arm and said softly, “Come in.”
“Thanks. Nobody else home? I thought I might lay down in Eilidh’s room for a bit, if nobody minds. I’m knackered.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Would you like to join with me?”
Munro removed the bag he’d worn slung across his back during the night. “I’m sorry?” Even after spending so much time with Eilidh, he still experienced a slight language barrier. The fae all seemed to speak English well, along with a multitude of other languages, but many had trouble with modern idioms.
She stepped closer, lowering her gaze. “Would you like to lie naked with me and experience mutual pleasures.” Her breath smelled sweet, and he felt a heady warmth that could only be magical. Before he could speak, her lips were on his. She rested her hands on his chest, then ran them lightly to his waist.
Azuri Fae - Urban Fantasy (Caledonia Fae) Page 10