by Amelia Shaw
“I’m not trying to keep anything from you.” I scrolled through my phone to find my email and opened up the report Jack sent. Once it loaded, I handed him the phone and let him sit back and read.
He returned my phone. “It’s as you say. Then what do you think we should do now?”
I put my hand on my chest and acted shocked. “Are you asking me for a plan?”
“I deserved that.”
I laughed. “You super did. As for the plan, I don’t have one yet but be reasonable and sit here and talk it through me with. I’m sure we can come up with something that will suitably offend the captain in short order.”
After a few long seconds of silence, I pushed out of the chair.
“Wait, where are you going?” he asked, mouth hanging open like he couldn’t believe I’d had the gall to go upright.
“Coffee. It helps me think. And endure long, tension-filled silences where I can feel the other parties yearning to make a run for it. I’ll be right back.”
I crossed the hall and found the coffee cart just where it usually sat. With a smile, I pulled the handle of the giant carafe and filled two mugs of steaming deliciousness. Quickly, before Fin talked himself out of patience, I added some cream and sugar to mine. Then I carried the mugs back across the hall and handed him the black one.
Once he settled and took a few sips, I leaned forward, cupping my mug between my palms. “Tell me about Sol.”
When he didn’t immediately protest or start speaking, I thought maybe I’d crossed some boundary. However, she’d been the one to hunker down in my dreams every night.
“She was a bright light,” he began. “Not like you and me. Before you protest, I know you know we exist in the darkness. She was kindness, love, and happiness.”
I wanted to believe people like that existed, but part of me wondered if he saw her through the rose-colored glasses of an older brother who missed his sister. Who thought he’d failed to protect her, and now he needed to protect her memory.
I kept my tone light, hoping not to have to drag information out of him. “Anything else you remember about her? Did she have anything she was obsessed with? Hobbies? Favorite hiding spots? Boyfriends?”
His forehead bunched up, and he put the coffee on the edge of his desk. Then he turned his gaze to me. “What are you asking me?”
I took a sip of my coffee and sat it on the table beside his. “I just asked you what I’m asking you. I need information about your sister and you’re the only one alive who can tell me about her. Or, I mean, I could wait until I go to sleep and hope she visits me so we can play Twenty Questions.”
“But why do you need to know?” he asked, confusion clouding his features.
I held out my hand to shake his. He just stared at it. “Hi, I’m Zoey, a fucking bounty hunter, remember? I find people for a living. In fact, it’s the very reason I’m sitting in this room with you right now. In order to find people, I have to get into their heads. But it’s not as simple as that. I have to be them. If I do it right, no one can hide from me.”
I ventured a glance up into his eyes. The confusion was gone, replaced by faint amusement.
“What?” I asked.
He shook his head. “You amaze me. I didn’t even consider hiring you to find my sister.”
“Well, to be fair, you thought she was dead before. As good as I think I am, I can’t hunt down a corpse.”
He winced, and I froze. “I’m sorry. You know, sometimes I just say things. That was insensitive.”
“Well, today is a historic day. Zoey Salix being both reasonable and apologetic. What is happening to you? Dare I ask if my presence is rubbing off on you?”
I flipped him off. “Let’s not go that far. I enjoy my job, and we just turned this magic puzzle hunt into something my brain can understand better, something my brain knows how to do well. I can focus on doing this thing and you can focus on the magic aspects and we can win.”
“Win?”
“Well, at the very least, give you some closure one way or another. If we happen to maim and dismember Esteban in the process, well, that’s just cake on top of my already awesome cake.”
He pressed out of the chair and adjusted his cuffs. “Come on, I’ll let you see her room.”
Boy kept his dead sister’s room the exact same? Oh man, he and I were going to have to talk about letting go of things. Especially as a creature with a far greater life span than a human.
I followed him through the door and down the hallway, past the corridor that led down to the sparring mats. Nope, not letting my mind go there.
He kept going until we reached a set of double doors, not unlike the ones that led to his room.
“When do I get to upgrade to two doors?” I asked as he dug a key out of his pocket.
He fitted it in the lock and pushed the door open. “Do you even care about having two doors?”
“No, but it seems like the cool kids get two.”
He just shook his head and held the door open for me to enter.
It was like walking into a time capsule of a young woman’s life. Sol had been born in the sixties maybe, at least from what I could tell about the décor, and the clothing left in the closet.
“I should clean this all out,” he mused.
Since he wasn’t looking for a confirmation either way, I wandered her space. Sometimes, I could get a feel for people if I inhabited their favorite places long enough. But Sol had been missing so long there was nothing left of her here.
A second desk sat against the wall, neatly lined with tiny boxes of gears and parts, fittings, and metalworking equipment.
“What’s this?” I asked.
He crossed the room and studied the desk. I wouldn’t have noticed before, but for some reason, I could see the pain etched in the lines around his mouth, the way his shoulders hunched forward trying to ward off any physical attack.
“Sol enjoyed rebuilding antique clocks and watches. She built most of the clocks in the house.”
I stared around her room to find small gears and parts spread out amongst her belongings. Not too obvious, but obvious enough to know this was something important to her, something she would carry into adulthood.
Wait. In the forest, when she couldn’t speak to me, she mouthed something that I thought sounded like, watch. At the time, I wasn’t able to discern if she had meant to look at something or a physical watch.
Maybe I had my answer.
I let Fin continue his study of the desk while I did another turn around the room. “She was younger than I thought. Or maybe older, I don’t know. Now I’m wondering when you were born and what your room looked like from that era.”
His lips twitched as he turned back to me, but he said nothing. I’d peg him as older than my original estimate if he wasn’t crowing about it.
I opened her bedside drawer and rifled through her things. A few letters, a notebook, some postcards. Nothing that would help me find the woman she was now. Nor the woman Esteban likely formed her into over years of abuse.
“Did she have any boyfriends at the time of her disappearance?” I asked.
“Not that I recall. Dating back then was different, especially for fae. We needed to hide what we were, and that’s impossible during intimacy.”
“How so?”
A flash of pink went up his neck and I stepped forward.
“Are you blushing right now?”
He cleared his throat and went out into the hall. I followed, which allowed him to close and lock the door. We walked along the hallway, and I waited. No way I would miss his answer to this.
Once we returned to his office and he shut the door behind us, he picked back up the conversation. “When fae are intimate, they sort of meld with their partner mentally. There are no secrets between then. It’s personal, sacred, which is why many fae don’t take casual lovers.”
“Okay, so she wasn’t intimate, but did she have anyone close in her life?”
He thought about
it and nodded. “His name was Jeffrey. I’m pretty sure he was a human, but I can’t recall off the top of my head.”
I smiled. “Then our first stop is to go see old Jeff.”
Chapter Twelve
Turned out, according to the captain, Jeff died a few years ago. He was married to the same woman for forty of those years and was disgustingly, boringly human. We didn’t even have to leave the house to find out all that excellent news.
So, Fin and I ended up back in his study staring at each other. Me trying to pry out more details regarding his sister; him answering in vague non-committal sentences.
“I was a long time ago,” he said, standing to spin away from me and face the wall. “Before you were born even.”
“Yes, I get it,” I said. “You guys are old. I’m an infant. I’m still the most qualified to help.”
The captain entered with his usual judgmental frown directed at me. “I wouldn’t go that far, Zoey. Well, besides the infant comment.”
I waved him up and down from my perch in the armchair. “Oh, you’re what ten years older than me, max. Huge difference. I’ll lump you in the ancient category with Fin. Get your tombstone prepared. It’ll say, ‘Here Lies Captain Douche.’”
He didn’t bother responding, but crossed the room to whisper to Fin, who nodded.
“What?” I asked Fin.
“We should go back to the forest.”
I threw up my hands. “Last time we came out with a ribbon after being there for hours. You think there’s going to be anything else to find? Besides, it’s getting dark.”
“Afraid, Zoey?” The captain asked.
“Of dying, absolutely, especially of being torn to shreds by fanged mage beasts, or whatever the mage equivalent of a scary creature is.”
Fin gripped the back of the other armchair and stared me down. Damn it, he was about to talk me into this dumb plan that had to be a bad idea. And a trap.
Definitely a trap.
I met his eyes head on, ignoring the captain. “Why do you want to go back there? What do you think we’ll find?”
He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. But I think we should keep going back until we do find something. It’s the only lead we have to my sister.”
“Yeah, provided by my weird mage dreams that may or may not be Esteban in disguise.”
“A fifty-fifty shot then.”
I snorted. “A fifty-fifty shot we get killed.”
When he licked his lips and a tiny grin sprouted at the corner of his mouth, I knew I was in trouble. “Well, if we are headed into such dangerous territory then I think we need some weapons.”
What?
I blinked, sure my smile had turned dopey. “Are these the weapons? The infamous, amazing, weapons I was promised the last time my life was put in immediate danger? Those weapons?”
“The very same,” he said with a chuckle. “Let me escort you to the armory.”
I groaned aloud and dropped my head back on the chair. “I’ve never heard a more beautiful statement from a man’s mouth.”
He ignored me and headed toward the door, so I hopped up and followed. The captain trailed behind me, but thankfully at a distance.
As we approached a door down a random long hallway, I would never be able to locate on my own, the captain called out, “Are you sure about this?”
“Shut it, Hiram,” I said. “Fin was just about to show me the goods.”
I heard him whisper to himself behind me. “Hiram?”
Pretending I didn’t know his first name would be way more fun than mocking him with his actual name.
Fin unlocked the door, spread them wide, and led us into the room.
I rushed toward a rack of neatly polished swords. Then my eye caught on a case of handguns, but before I could hurry over, I spotted a display of knives, all under glass and sparkling in decorative lighting.
I lay myself across the glass counter, pressing my cheek to the icy surface. “Leave me here. Just let me stay here, and if I die, just bury me in the floor.”
Fin chuckled from across the room. “Anything calling out to you?”
I stood and levelled him a look. “What are they supposed to say besides ‘here, let me give you a lady boner’?”
He waved around the room. “Some of these are normal weapons, but some are of fae origin, and a few are mage-crafted blades. Magical weapons choose their wielders, something craftsman learned a long time ago. So, do any call out for you? Can you feel any of them?”
As much as I wanted to laugh him off, I knew he was right. I’d read texts about weapons who’d chosen their masters. Mostly they were featured in historical accounts of battles and glory. I didn’t recall any serving a bounty hunter with dubious parentage.
“Do you have any weapons who call your name?” I asked him, curious about what kind of weapon would want to serve him, and why I thought it would mean more to my opinion of him than what he’d told me himself.
He smiled and walked across the room to a display of swords. At the top was a smooth, shiny Katana with a white bone handle. At the top of the grip, a blood red tie capped it off.
“This is Isolde.”
“Like Tristan and Isolde? Did you name it, or did it tell you its name?”
He lifted it up so I could see it better. “I received this weapon as a teenager. It was sheer luck it bonded to me. I’m the one who named it. I’d always been fascinated by that story.”
I studied it, sufficiently impressed. “What does it feel like when it speaks to you?”
He shook his head. “It’s different for every weapon and every warrior. No blade will speak the same, just as no person will speak the same.”
Sounded about on par with what I’d learned of magic in the short time I’d been around it. “Of course, that makes perfect sense.”
“This is serious. Is nothing sacred to you?” The captain said from near the door where he’d been hovering since we arrived.
Fin cast him a baleful look, and I outright glared.
“I wasn’t joking. As someone new to magic, it makes perfect sense from what I’ve learned so far. Why don’t you go yell at one of your soldier boys? The grown-ups are talking.”
His only response was a sharp narrow of his eyes.
“Do you feel anything?” Fin asked me again.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Other than the captain’s death stare, I felt nothing.
“Does it just happen?” I asked.
Fin shrugged. “It can happen when you get near a weapon. It can also happen when you touch one, or even when you’re injured by one. As if the weapon needs to conquer you to serve you.”
With reverence, he placed his sword back on the rack and faced me again. “Well, even if nothing speaks to you, you’ll still need weapons. Most of what I have is standard fare. You’re welcome to grab anything you like.”
I glared at the captain. “What, he’s not going to make me qualify at the range first? Throw a few knives to ensure I don’t accidently spike you in the back with one?”
The man in question turned away to face out the door, and Fin huffed beside me. “You two really need to get over this petty feud. It serves no one.”
“Maybe if he didn’t look at me like I was somehow lesser than him, than you, I might be able to,” I said. “Until then, I’ll mock and goad him to my heart’s content. Maybe one day we’ll hit the mats and beat it out of each other.”
Fin just shook his head and wandered away to let me window shop. I braced my hands on the countertop and stared down at the knives on display. Beautiful butterfly knives, some illegal kit, even some gorgeous throwing knives. I would bet they were weighted perfectly, knowing Fin.
After a second, he came over and lay two short swords along the countertop. “What about these?”
“Hmm, let me check with my fencing master. Oh wait, I don’t have one.” I pointed toward the guns. “I know how to shoot, and I know how to use knives. I can pick out a long one and call
it a short sword if you like.”
He returned the swords and faced me, hands on his hips, consternation bending down his brow. “How do you usually choose your weapons?”
“How does anyone?” I skirted the counter to look at another display of knives perpendicular to the other. “I pick them based on the job. Some nights you need a hot thermos and a knife. Sometimes you need something big and flashy you don’t actually have to use. I go with my gut.”
The captain snorted, and I ignored him, meeting Fin’s sharp eyes. He’d been studying me since we walked into the room, and I hadn’t figured out why.
“How do you choose yours?” I asked him.
He smiled, and the captain spoke up. “He doesn’t—I do.”
Of course he did. “Do you use them for him too?”
The captain tilted his head in mocking amusement. “You’ve forgotten he has other talents that don’t require the use of weapons.”
Right. The mind-takeover thing. Wouldn’t it be nice to just have the bad guy stab himself in the thigh for you?
As I shifted closer to the guns, the scent of CLP wafted from the stand. I could taste the tang of steel in my mouth. One step down from the coppery metal of blood.
Despite the allure of the guns, my fingers tingled in anticipation of latching on a sheath and sliding a shiny black blade home.
“Huh,” I said, peering around the room.
“What is it?” Fin asked, stepping closer, no doubt sensing the shift in the room. Same as me.
It wasn’t something I could explain. I could just feel the bite of a handle in my palm and my reflection in the glass in front of me had changed. I could see the blades in the reflection. The weapons that were meant to be mine.
“Is there a knife, almost wide like a machete, in here?” I asked. “Black, not silver.”
Fin blinked rapidly a few times and studied me anew, his chest rising and falling faster.
“What? No? Yes? Should I phrase it in the form of a different question?”
He shook his head and knelt down in front of the knife case to reveal—hallelujah—more knives. It took him a moment to sift through all the boxes and knives already visible to the eye, but after a few seconds he pulled a large box from the case and sat it on the counter.