by Sam Cheever
I hurried over to the shelf and looked up. Sure enough, huddled against the parrot was a squishy green body. “What are you doing with the parrot? I didn’t think you even liked him.”
I was cold, the frog said, sounding slightly embarrassed.
I lifted my hand to send my keeper magics out but he hopped toward the edge, then turned and hopped quickly back. No! Please don’t use that magic stuff to fly me down there, it terrifies me.
I wrinkled up my face. “Magic terrifies you? But you’re a magical frog.” I glanced around, looking for the sliding ladder. Of course it was at the far end of the shelves.
What can I tell you? I’m complex.
I snorted out a laugh. “Hold on, I’m getting the ladder.”
A moment later, when I had him in my hands, I noticed the fine shiver of his pudgy form. “You are cold. Come on, I’ll put you under the heat lamp in your terrarium.”
I hate that place, he told me in a petulant tone.
“In my defense, I didn’t know you hated it until recently. We’ll come up with something else for you, I promise. But right now you need the warmth of that lamp.”
He didn’t disagree. I settled him on the flat rock inside his fish tank and turned on the lamp. “I’m going to cover you up too. That will keep the heat inside the tank.”
Whatever, he responded morosely.
I laid the flannel cloth I’d been using to tuck him in for the night over the glass tank and went to get the bag of crickets from the cabinet under the register. I dumped a few into the container and covered it back up. “I have to make a phone call, then I’ll be back. Eat up.”
He snagged the first cricket before I’d even laid the flannel back over the container.
I looked at the clock, seeing it was after five in the morning. Still early. But LA started her days before dawn and I thought she might be awake and doing her chores. If anyone might know how to help me catch a hobgoblin it would be her or her witch.
LA answered on the third ring, sounding breathless and cheerful. “Hey, Naida! What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to call so early.”
“No, that’s fine. I was just feeding the cats.” She had a smile in her voice. “Glyph says hi.”
Glyph was Mr. Wicked and Hex’s littermate. I’d been thrilled when LA had decided to keep him. Her witch, Deg and friend Mandy who was also a witch had kept the last two kittens from the litter.
“We need to come down for a visit soon.” A sad feeling tightened my chest at the reminder that I was currently missing a cat.
“You do! That would be fun.”
I shoved my worries away, focusing on the reason for my call. “I was wondering if you’d had any experience with hobgoblins.”
She groaned softly. “Oh no. Are you infested?”
“Apparently I am.”
“Well, the good news is that they mostly just prank you. They’re not malicious or especially dangerous. Unfortunately, in your case even a prank can turn dangerous.”
I agreed, telling her about the released staff and wand. Though the wand hadn’t physically harmed anybody, it could have destroyed a lot of valuable magical artifacts and reference books.
“You need to find the little guy fast,” LA told me. “I can ask Deg and do some research. But off the top of my head, you’ll need a magic trap.”
Excitement flared. “Yes! That’s what Doctor Osvald said too. But Lea and I weren’t exactly sure what he meant. Apparently, there are a lot of spells for trapping. Will any of them work?”
“It’s not a spell,” LA said. “Well, not only a spell. It’s an artifact. You actually might have one on the shelves.”
Hope grew. “What does it look like?”
LA described it to me and hope puddled around my feet like a bride’s gown on her wedding night. “I don’t have one of those. Fairy farts!”
LA chuckled. “You don’t by any chance know a giant, do you?” Her tone of voice made it clear she expected me to say no.
“I do! Why?”
“Giants almost always have magic traps because, like at Croakies, hobgoblins can do a lot of damage in a giant’s home artifact. Ask your giant if he has a trap you can borrow. Then all you need is the frosted chocolate brownie.”
“What’s that now?”
She laughed. “You bait the trap with the brownie. Hobgoblins are helpless against frosted brownies.”
Wasn’t everybody? “You’ve saved my life,” I told my friend. “Thank you!”
She laughed. “No problem. Is there anything else I can help with?”
The way she asked made me wonder if she knew about my trouble with the SDM. “You heard?”
She sighed. “Unfortunately. It hit the web and all of Illusion City has probably heard by now.”
The web she was referring to wasn’t the one most people would probably be thinking about. It was a supernormal network for magic users in Illusion City that helps the council keep track of supernormals in case of problems or danger. The network was fed by the magic energy of everyone in the city and was almost impermeable to being hacked. Almost. As long as I’d known LA it had only been breached once, with deadly consequences.
“You’ll be okay,” LA told me. “The SDM occasionally throws its weight around as an example to magic users to tow the line. If they try to discipline you, I’d be happy to serve as a witness for your defense. I’m sure Deg would too. Your friends won’t let them railroad you, Naida.”
I felt marginally better. Although her mention of discipline made my stomach knot. The SDM’s “disciplines” were legendary for their harshness. “There is one more thing…” I hated to let her know Wicked was missing, but I was so worried about him. Maybe LA would have some insights for me. I told her about the cats.
“They’re probably looking for the hobgoblin,” she said very reasonably. “Cats are drawn to hobgoblins for obvious reasons.”
“But neither Lea nor I have seen them since early yesterday. It’s not like Wicked to stay away this long.”
Silence filled the line as I presumed she gave my concern some thought. “You’re right. This is more than that. What else do you have going on right now?”
“Other than dealing with the fallout from the hobgoblin, there’s my talking frog.”
LA laughed. “Seriously? Fun!”
“Yeah,” I smiled. “It is kind of cool. I’ll tell you all about it when we come for a visit. But the big thing, the thing that’s gotten me into trouble with the Société is the youth magic artifact. If I don’t find it soon, I’m going to lose a new friend and possibly more unsuspecting people to its effects.”
“There are no leads?”
“Not much, no. The strangest thing is that the cream which apparently shrunk those poor people down to their very beginnings wasn’t found at either scene. The killer has to be returning to take it away.”
“And nobody’s seen him or her leaving?”
I thought about the salesman boyfriend who was our only real lead. “There’s one guy. Detective Grym and I are going to check him out this morning.” If Grym wasn’t too disabled by the poisoning.
“That’s a solid lead,” LA agreed. “What I’ve heard of Grym is positive. He’s a good cop.”
“I agree.”
“But I think it’s a mistake not to connect the hobgoblin to what’s happening with the youth magic,” she said. “Where there’s youth magic, there are generally goblins. And where there are goblins…”
“There are hobgoblins.” She was absolutely right. I hadn’t put it all together in quite that way. “You’re a genius.”
“Nope. Just far enough away from it all to see the forest for the trees. Find that hobgoblin, Naida. If you can make him talk, he’ll probably shed a lot of light on things for you.”
I’d make him talk all right. Even if I had to make him sweat brownie frosting for a month to do it.
14
Grymly Determined
Grym asked me to pick him up at home
for our trip to the cosmetics factory. That was a red flag right off the bat. He’d never asked me to drive. And I’d never seen his home before.
But he’d sounded like his normal self when we’d spoken on the phone, so that was good. Well, maybe a little more growly than usual. Like he was made of rock.
Wait…
I pulled up in front of a lilac, yellow, and pale pink Victorian home which had been turned into apartments. Despite being used for rentals, the beautiful architecture seemed to have been well-maintained, with fresh paint on the siding and trim, a nicely landscaped yard, and a roof that was, if not new, at least clear of debris and undamaged. There was even a guardian perched on its highest peak. No wonder Grym liked the place. They had a gargoyle on the roof.
The gargoyle shifted sideways as I pulled up under the shade of a huge oak tree.
Oh, yeah, Grym was the gargoyle. It seemed he’d taken Lea’s advice to heart. He was still wearing his rock suit.
Grym dropped to a flat part of the roof and jumped, arms outstretched as he landed on his big, blocky feet and jogged toward my car. He stopped to grab a bundle of something from beneath the tree.
I could see why he’d asked me to park underneath the tree. Between the overarching branches, the thick trunk, and the heavy shade, he’d be hard to see for the rest of the neighborhood. His only area of vulnerability was the people inside the house.
Grym tugged my car door open and threw the bundle onto the floor, sliding inside. His knees were jammed up to his chest, and his head had to rest on them even with the seat as far back as it would go. He fixed a hostile, dark-caramel gaze on me and I grimaced.
“Sorry, this car wasn’t made for gargoyles.”
“This car is ridiculous,” he growled out. “Why don’t you have a real car?”
I took offense at that. I loved my beetle bug. “This is a real car. Besides, I get really good gas mileage.”
“I guess it’s better than walking. But not much.” He shifted slightly, smacking his head on the ceiling and putting a large dent in the fabric and foam.
“Hey!”
“Sorry.” Grym tried to make himself more comfortable, apparently failing as his hostile gaze skimmed my way again. “Where’s the power chord?”
“Huh?”
“For the car. Certainly, this thing doesn’t use real gas.”
“Har,” I told the snarky gargoyle. “I wanted to ask you, Franny Clauss and Mrs. Foxladle stopped into the store yesterday. They told me Celia Pepper had boxes of creams and lotions to sell in her spare room. Did you find anything like that when you searched the place?”
“No. Only what was in the bathroom. The killer must have taken them out.”
“That’s strange.”
I got the feeling he wanted to nod but restrained himself. He tried to scrub a rocky hand over his face and got it wedged, deepening the head dent he’d already made. I growled a little before I could stop myself.
“Maybe I should just run alongside,” he said, looking miserable.
Yeah, that would go over well with the human population. “Or you could shift back to human.”
He tried to shake his head, but it wouldn’t move more than a centimeter. He sighed. “Your friend was right. This has limited the damage considerably. I don’t want to change back until I have to.” He gave me a crooked smile since half of his face was wedged into his knees. “Besides, I don’t think you’d enjoy the results of that transformation in your car.”
I grimaced. “Why? Do you leak fluid or something?”
His rocky brows lifted, waggling slightly.
“Oh,” I said. “Oh!” Flinging a hand between us, I shook my head. “No, you’re good the way you are. Just make sure you get out before you shift. I prefer that all skid marks remain outside the car.”
His chuckle sounded like rocks sliding down a hillside. It made me smile.
I backed my little bug up and turned it, heading toward the street.
The shocks groaned under Grym’s excess weight. I was pretty sure the tires on my side were barely touching the ground.
I needed to remember not to turn too quickly. My car might topple over like a turtle and not be able to get back up.
Hebe Industries was located about ten miles outside of Enchanted, in the center of a large industrial park with two other huge metal and stone buildings amid a spiderweb of winding asphalt that seemed to feed more grass than businesses.
“Looks like there’s room to grow here,” I told Grym as I drove toward the largest building.
“I did some research on this place,” he told me. “It’s named after the Greek goddess of youth.”
“No surprise there,” I said.
“Right. But what might surprise you is that the company bought out the two other existing buildings in this complex and has managed to stop any more from being built.”
My eyebrows climbed skyward. “Seriously? That would take an extraordinary amount of money.”
“It would. So whoever owns Hebe Industries is either doing very well with their products, or they’ve got some pretty impressive backers and they’re not just making wrinkle cream.”
“How much money can you make on cosmetics?” I asked as I stopped in the road, eyeing the glass and stone front of the place and the parking lot filled with unimpressive cars.
“I’m guessing a lot.” Grym pointed toward a copse of trees at the side of the road. “I’m going to jump out and go change.”
“Change, huh?” I chuckled.
He rolled his pretty caramel eyes. “Wait here. I want us to arrive together.”
Cold fingers danced up my spine. “You think we’re being watched?”
He eased his bulk out of the car, somehow managing not to bend the frame of my car door. One big hand snaked back inside and grabbed his bundle of clothes. “Not yet. But there are cameras in those light poles. If there’s something besides cosmetics going on inside that building, they’re going to have pretty staunch security.”
I skimmed a gaze over the building as Grym did his thing. Hebe Industries looked perfectly normal. Nothing about the place screamed of dastardly deeds and cold intent. But that meant nothing. Unlike in the movies, evil didn’t send waves of warning out around it. It was generally just the opposite, in fact.
Evil generally kept a very low profile.
I was so caught up in my dark thoughts that I jumped when Grym wrenched the door open again. I pulled air into my lungs and turned as he slipped into the seat, examining him carefully. He looked about five years younger than what I guessed was probably his real age of about thirty-two or three. His skin was smooth, his eyes clear, and his sun-kissed brown hair was a bit on the shaggy side as it always was.
“You look better.”
He nodded. “Let’s get this done fast though. I could feel that stuff start attacking me as soon as I shifted.”
Nodding, I started toward the lot, worry clawing at my lungs. Grym wouldn’t be able to do his job in his gargoyle state. He wouldn’t be able to do something as simple as going to the grocery store for milk and cereal. I felt the weight of time settling on my shoulders even more than before. I was glad we’d found a way to slow down his descent toward destruction.
But that hadn’t fixed anything. It had only given us a temporary band-aid to staunch the hemorrhage.
At some point, the bleeding would still prove fatal.
We parked and I walked alongside Grym with a heavy heart. He noticed my silence, sending me questioning glances that all but compelled me to tell him what I was thinking.
I managed to resist telling him that I was considering another trip to Madeline Quilleran’s lair. I was ready to throw myself at her mercy…promise her anything she wanted…to have her fix what the evil youth magic had done.
Problem was, Grym was only one infected person. The fact that he was my friend made it feel worse. But if I didn’t find that artifact soon, there were going to be more dying people.
And most of th
em wouldn’t have the luxury of friends who could help them figure out how to cure the poison.
Or the ability to shift away from the body that was infected, to give them time to find a cure.
The lobby of the big building was devoid of life. Unless you counted the fish swimming around in the base of the two-tiered concrete fountain that dominated the space. The falling water was a musical counterpoint to my dire thoughts. I felt myself starting to relax almost immediately under its influence.
The lobby was tropical, filled with large green plants and trees in enormous pots and fed by a glass ceiling that showed the bright blue sky and the wisps of fast-moving clouds overhead.
A moment after we arrived, I heard the clip-clop of heels on the floor. We looked up to find a well-dressed woman hurrying toward us, her hands aflutter.
“I’m so sorry! I was all the way in the back of the production floor when I heard the bell.” She gave us a smile, her perfect lips painted a pretty color of coral that matched her fingernail polish. She tugged the short, stylish jacket of her suit down in front and shoved a hand into a thick halo of blonde hair. Taking a deep breath, she offered her hand first to me, and then Grym. “Kat Geras. It’s so nice to meet you.” She glanced at the massive metal and glass clock on the wall. “You’re early.”
I blinked. “Early?”
Her smile slipped a bit. “Yes. Aren’t you with Maycee’s Department Store?”
Grym stepped closer, his own smile set to dazzle. “I’m Grym and this is Naida,” he said, declining to clarify whom exactly we were with. “It’s nice to meet you, Kat.”
“The pleasure’s all mine. Are you ready for your tour?”
“Of course,” Grym said, “Lead the way.”
He and I shared a glance as she turned her back. His message was clear. We would let her assume we were the Maycee’s people as long as we could get away with it. I was okay with that. We hadn’t lied. Exactly. But she might be more forthcoming if she didn’t know Grym was a cop.