Grand Theft Griffin

by Michael Angel

  “Before you can say ‘what the hell was that’, I can tell you what it’s not,” Hector mused, his eyes riveted on screen. “I put that thrumming beat into a sound processor. It’s way too slow to be the rotor cycle of a helicopter or drone aircraft. The screech doesn’t match anything mechanical, either. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess it was a recording of a red-tailed hawk, amplified about fifty times.”

  I bit back the first couple of things that came to mind. I was right, beyond the shadow of a doubt. This was a griffin’s work. But while I couldn’t let on about what I knew, I could still find out something critical to my case in Andeluvia.

  I leaned forward and asked Hector to do one more thing.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Can we rewind to the moment where we got that close-up blur?” I asked.

  “Thought you’d ask that.” A couple of taps on his keyboard and we jumped there. Hector moved his finger close to the screen, pointing out the detail. “See these ridges? I thought they were metal parts at first, or maybe scales. Yet they bend and flex when in motion. I’d almost think they were giant feathers…”

  “You’d think,” I agreed.

  Tomás had been right about the colors he’d seen. This was a griffin’s flank and wing. There was the golden fur as it went by the lens, followed by the lighter color of feathers. Feathers that, just as the light caught, shimmered with the green of a male peacock’s plumage.

  A series of guitar tones sounded from my pocket, jolting me out of my thoughts. I fished out my phone and shut down the reminder alarm with a grimace. Hector remained fixated on the screen, trying vainly to figure out an explanation that didn’t sound ludicrous. Unfortunately, I’d have to let him stew.

  “I’ve got an urgent appointment with Detective Esteban,” I said regretfully. “This…is interesting, I’ll give you that.”

  Hector leaned back, ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “Can you make me a copy of this, send it to my office? Maybe I’ll be able to come up with some new insight.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I thanked him and headed downstairs towards the parking lot. I’d kept my expression neutral, but inside, I kept my jubilation tightly leashed.

  Hector’s footage had just moved me a big step closer to nailing my mystery griffin.

  * * *

  The LAPD’s new indoor shooting range was attached to their main building through a wedge-shaped annex that looked amazingly like a cheese grater set on its side. For me, it was a ten minute walk or a quick car ride away across Union Station’s rail yard. I had packed my gear in a heavy canvas sports bag, so I slung it over my shoulder and made my way through the doors. I found Esteban just outside the glassed-in shooting area, where he was busy talking to the Range Safety Officer. He flashed me a smile as I joined him.

  “You’re early,” he said approvingly. Then, to the RSO he added, “We can use bay number ten, right?”

  The man nodded. “At the end of the corridor, turn right. Second one on your left.”

  Esteban thanked him, then reached down to grab his own shoulder bag, making a motion with his head for me to follow him. The dim sounds of firing echoed through the safety windows down the hall. The smells of nitroglycerin, sawdust, and graphite fairly tingled in my nose. Where the corridor came to a stop, the signage indicated that those working with long-barreled weapons should turn to the left, while those practicing with short-barreled guns were to turn to the right.

  The new range was, like most ranges I’d seen, divided into separate lanes where one could aim at body-shaped paper targets at various distances. Esteban and I set our bags down at the table just outside the shooting bay to put on eye and ear protection. I still had an awful time keeping fingerprint smudges off the shooting glasses, but I did like the new ear protection. Instead of sticking with the hairstyle-destroying earmuffs, the LAPD had jumped into the twenty-first century and changed to electronically-enhanced ear plugs. While you still had to raise your voice to make yourself heard, no one had to shout at the top of their lungs anymore.

  We took the bags into the shooting bay and set out the remainder of our gear. The three safety-glassed walls separating us from the hallway and the other bays reminded me of a king-sized phone booth. That said, it was both larger and better maintained than my worst room in college. Esteban squinted at the target downrange as if considering something as he spoke.

  “I looked through the tests you sent me from your last practice exam,” he began. “As far as the Q&A sections, you’re just going to have to rote-memorize a lot of facts. Your range scores…they’re not terrible, but not consistent enough to be sure you’ll pass. You tend to pull your shots off to one side, then the other as you compensate for your last miss.”

  I sighed, thinking of the times I’d had to use my weapon. I’d gotten lucky, but I couldn’t rely on that consistently. And danger in Andeluvia always seemed to come in a few leagues above my weight class.

  “I agree, I need to get down here to practice more. Which means I’m going to have buy more ammo.”

  “Before you do, I want you to try something different. Un truco especial, as my own instructor would have said. And it won’t cost a dime.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “You need to practice your trigger pull. Dry firing your weapon while concentrating on your trigger pull should help. A lot.”

  “Okay, let’s try it.” I checked my firearm to make sure that it was unloaded, all while keeping it safely pointed downrange. I got into my shooting stance, raised the weapon, squinted at the target, and prepared to squeeze the trigger.

  “One moment.” Esteban fished in his pocket and drew out a quarter. He balanced it on the flat surface on the top of my gun’s barrel. “There’s our special trick. If you’re doing your trigger pulls correctly, the quarter will stay balanced right here as you fire.”

  That was easier said than done.

  The quarter quivered as if it were a branch in a high wind on my first pull. It flipped off and landed on the floor after the third one. Esteban bent down and retrieved it for me.

  “You see why this is a necessary evil,” he said. “It forces you to watch the end of your barrel and keep it steady. Otherwise, you’re anticipating the shot or jerking the trigger too quickly.”

  I performed another dozen dry fires before the quarter slipped off again. Then another set of three. And another six. Esteban retrieved the quarter each time and re-balanced it. Frowning, he reached around me and touched my wrist with his hand, leveling out my grip.

  “Thanks,” I said. My arms were beginning to quiver, and I wasn’t sure it was from fatigue.

  “De nada. Let me check your form.”

  He stood right next to me, adjusting my grip, my elbows, even nudging my leg slightly to one side. Not a single move was flirtatious; he took this very seriously. But with a rush of blood to my cheeks, I became abruptly aware of his proximity. The warm feel of his breath on the back of my neck, the scent of his skin and the cedar wood aroma of his aftershave.

  The memory of pad thai noodles came to mind, lying untouched and steaming on Esteban’s table in their half-open container. The conviction that steam hotter than that must be pouring from his lips, for they were like a feather-soft furnace of warmth on my neck, right down in that little notch between my collarbones. The spot that never failed to get me squealing like a schoolgirl.

  “Dayna?” Esteban said softly. “You are paying attention, right?”

  “Oh, you bet. Not sure it’s to what you want, though.”

  Esteban pulled back a little and looked to see how serious I was. He smiled in that seductive way he had, and it looked a hell of a lot better in real life than in a troubled dream.

  “So you have been missing me.”

  “Of course I have! Whatever made you doubt that?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I sighed. “My duties to Andeluvia.”

&n
bsp; “Sometimes I wish that they’d never chosen you.”

  “I wasn’t asked for specifically,” I said, as I lowered my weapon. I flipped on the safety, set the firearm aside, and rubbed my arms as I spoke. “It was blind chance. They’d have taken any Johnny or Jane-come lately who picked up the medallion we found on the body at the construction site.”

  “I suppose,” he said, chewing that over. “Then they didn’t offer you some…I don’t know, position? Some reason to stay there?”

  He was fishing, trying to politely determine if I shared his interest in our being together. In my staying in this world, with him. I honestly wasn’t sure what to say. When I’d inquired, the Andeluvians had been pretty strict with the ‘observe but don’t let outworlders visit’ thing.

  And yet, there was that mystical, unreadable Codex back at my house. A gigantic dragon that had destroyed two forests and vanished into thin air. A mysterious theft, performed by a world-jumping griffin. There were friends counting on me to solve these mysteries.

  But I couldn’t hurt Esteban over mysteries from another world. Couldn’t hurt him over the nebulous threat of some now-banished specter. And even now, the likelihood of Fitzwilliam banning my return forever had pretty good odds behind it.

  “Alanzo,” I said, looking into his kindly face. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  He grinned. I basked in the warmth of his hazel eyes.

  And then there was a knock at the door behind us.

  We turned. There, looking a lot like an extremely well-fed specter behind the frosted safety glass, stood Lieutenant Luis Ollivar. He tapped at the glass again, and then crooked his finger, summoning us inside.

  Esteban and I packed up our gear, shedding our earplugs and eye protection only when we’d stepped out of the shooting bay and back into the interior corridor.

  “That looked cozy for practice,” he remarked.

  I set my jaw and firmly reminded myself to keep cool this time. “How can I help you, Lieutenant?”

  “I don’t need anything, Chrissie. I just saw you as I was on my way to drop something off, so I decided to give it to you in person.” He handed over a slip of paper, explaining what it was even as I read it. “It’s your assigned exam date. You’ve only got ten days, which might be cutting it really thin for firearms practice.”

  “I’ll figure something out, Ollivar,” I said, refusing to let him rattle me. I reached out and patted him on one beefy arm. “I appreciate your concern.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not concerned. Just curious.”

  “About what?”

  “As the firearms certification administrator, I’m supposed to review your employment files. I saw where you requested a transfer to part-time or one-quarter time status. That’s a strange move for someone who claims they want to retain their weapons certs. The way I read it, you’ve got no interest in staying here at all.”

  With that, Ollivar left to lumber his way back towards the main hall.

  Esteban’s expression remained poker-face blank. Only the stiff change in his posture gave his feelings away.

  “This isn’t what…I mean…” I blurted.

  He slung his bag over his shoulder. “Now I am curious as well. About when you were going to tell me your plans.”

  “Alanzo, please! I don’t want you to–”

  “It’s all right, Dayna,” he said tightly, and the warmth had vanished from his expression. “As you might put it, you have nothing to worry about.”

  With that, he left me behind as he tromped down the corridor in Ollivar’s wake.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A plate of purple berries sat outside the trader’s cabin, looking like a platter of jewels.

  After picking me up on schedule, Shaw came in for a landing at the griffin aerie. I slid out of the saddle, taking a moment to lift off the bags with the new swab kits. I shaded my eyes against the early morning sun, taking a closer look. The plate sitting out in front of the cabin was piled high with tightly-packed wine-colored clusters that looked uncomfortably like the ones in my dream from last night.

  “Thou espies berries from the amidach tree,” Shaw explained. “Thy palate may enjoy the taste. Most humans do.”

  The name sounded familiar, and with Shaw’s endorsement I had no need to hold back. In fact, after the first bite it took a little willpower to not start gorging myself. These were the kind of berries that the advertisements always promised but never quite delivered: the ones which would pop into a splash of juice in the mouth, refreshing and tingly at the same time.

  And yet, as I munched through a few more handfuls, I realized that the taste was maddeningly familiar. I was sure that I’d had something like these berries before. But as soon as I saw flecks of purple dance at the edge of my vision, I was sure.

  “I’ve eaten from the amidach tree once before,” I concluded. “When I visited the Fayleene woods, as one of them. Only they eat the bark, not the fruit.”

  Shaw made a noble lion snort. “The bark? ‘Twould explain why our friend Liam makes such a pitiful mouthful.”

  “Well, he is bigger now,” I said between bites. “Ever since becoming Protector.”

  “Aye. Many males of his kind still outweigh him, but all give way. That is, at least they give way for now.”

  “Only for now?”

  “Thou knowest that Liam feels at best mixed on his position.”

  I considered that. I knew that Liam hadn’t been all that keen on his position at the start. But that was when he’d been set up to take on the dragon Sirrahon. If he still wanted to step down, that was news to me.

  “What is Liam doing, exactly?”

  “The exact opposite of what his predecessors have done. Each Protector, before they assumed power, became a hermit. A reclusive forest spirit. They only chose an heir once they felt the burden of age closing in. Liam wants none of this. He has already chosen multiple stags of virtue and honor to train in the arts of the fey. ‘Tis said that this is proof he wants to leave, not stay.”

  My situation back in Los Angeles sounded surprisingly similar. “Maybe he wants someone as a backup. In case something happens to him. Look what happened when Quinval, his predecessor, left everything to chance.”

  “Mayhap. Thou art enjoying the sweets from the amidach tree?”

  I tilted up the empty plate. “Past tense. I did.”

  “Good. Hollyhock shall be glad to know. ‘Twas she who located the delicacy and brought it to you.” Shaw cocked his head at me. “Apparently, thy actions involving Thundercrack served to make a strong impression, and she speaks very highly of you now.”

  “Only now?”

  “She did not speak ill before. However, praise from a father about an un-met, otherworldly friend can be written off as mere affection.”

  I nodded in understanding. I’d been tested, and Holly hadn’t found me wanting. I found myself feeling quite happy about that. It wouldn’t hurt to count another member of Grimshaw’s family as a friend.

  Shaw cleared his throat for a moment, which made my friend sound like a Harley motorcycle trying to start up. While he did so, I located and opened the pack I brought yesterday to look for some pre-packaged breakfast. I set aside a couple of juice pouches and Army-surplus MREs before he spoke again. His voice took on such a somber tone it made me pay special attention.

  “Dayna, I must ask about the Codex, thy text about the last Great War of Andeluvia. Was thou able to decipher yet more of it?”

  I let out a sigh. “Only that the pooka are one of the species on the side of the ‘Creatures of the Light’, and I’m not really one-hundred percent sure of that. I’ve been going over Zeno’s books in my spare time, but the symbols in the book are just so dense, it’s maddening trying to find something that resembles what I’m seeing half the time. I got so frustrated that I put the entire thing aside for a bit to let my brain unscramble. Everything’s under lock and key in the roll-up desk I have in the living room, though, so no one’s about to run
off with those texts.”

  He nodded. “Some good has already come from thy work. We now know that mine own kind, the Fayleene, and the Pooka were on one side, the dragons and demons on the other. We know who won. That is a start.”

  “It is, but hardly an end. And Ulrik’s disbelief worries me.”

  Shaw took a moment to consider his answer. His voice dropped, almost to a whisper.

  “Thou knowest that I have been in council with the Elders. Matters discussed there are not normally shared with those…who are not of mine own kind.”

  His eyes didn’t leave mine as I nodded in understanding.

  “But I freely call thee my friend, Dayna. Thou art the one who restored honor to me when it seemed I would die with none. Thou art the one who gave me back purpose when life had lost its luster and taste. I would share with thee what was said, if thou wouldst hear.”

  That pronouncement humbled me. “I’m all ears. As my mother would say, whatever you say stays between you, me, and the fence post.”

  His noble eagle face managed a puzzled look. “What fence post dost thou use to discuss such matters?”

  “Never mind. What I meant was: what you tell me remains private.”

  Now it was Shaw’s turn to sigh. “Just before the Council met, Elder Ulrik took me aside and asked if thy mission here related to Belladonna’s visions.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said nay, I thought not. But I had to say that thy findings might cast the Eldest’s visions in a new light.”

  I sat back against a sun-warmed rock. “I bet that went over well.”

  “Thou hast seen how dead-set he is against the High Elder’s pronouncements. He then asked me if I believed in such tales, like the spirit stones that spoke, or the return of Sirrahon. I answered rashly, perhaps, but I told him that if Sirrahon t’were but a fantasy, it had grabbed me in its talons and squeezed hard enough to crack my ribs!”