by A. D. Winter
Luis shot me a glare but held his tongue. “Of course, my lord.”
“Thanks,” I said, offering Luis a playful nod. “Whatever your name is.”
Barton cleared his throat, and I quickly hurried inside his office.
4
Ivy
Barton’s office was as cramped as ever.
Open files. Scribbled reports. Even his carpet was littered with applications for warrants. It was a regular evening for the poor guy.
Nelson gestured for me to sit in one of the empty chairs in front of the desk, and I quickly plopped down into the wooden seat, crossing my hands behind my head and letting out a yawn of exhaustion.
He glared at me from across the desk.
“So,” I began, “what’s up?”
Nelson’s eyes narrowed at me as he steepled his fingers on the desk. “Two buildings,” he said. “Two buildings, one car, and one human witness, who described you as a …” He opened the file on the desk and read the first page. “‘A maniacal monster with weapons and stuff.’”
My brows shot up in surprise. “Wow, not bad.”
Nelson slammed a hand on the desk, and I jumped in my seat. “Your actions were completely unacceptable. You’ve put this entire department—not to mention this city—at stake. What have you got to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry?” I offered with a wince.
Nelson sighed.
“Look,” I said. “I was set up.”
“By whom?” Nelson asked.
“The Thorns.”
“The Thorns?” He glanced back at Barton, who quickly bowed his head in embarrassment. “I see.”
“They exist,” I persisted. “And they’re growing.”
Nelson pursed his lips. “Ivy, we’ve already been through this. Most of the vampires were massacred in the Dark Uprising, and their goddesses were completely wiped out. The few who still survive are all mindless junkies living off the blood the fae administer to them. They’re not a threat anymore.”
“And I’m telling you it’s true,” I said. “Frederick was still doing Ursula’s work. In fact, it was he who smuggled the fae into the human world. I don’t know why. But I’m going to find out.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Nelson rose from his chair and adjusted his coat. “I’ve been summoned by the Council of Light to explain this little fiasco of yours. Hopefully, I will not be dragged into this farce as well.”
“I’m not a liar,” I said.
“No,” he agreed, halting at the door. “You’re just the inquisitor who was caught holding a dead fae in her arms.”
I shuddered as he slammed the door behind him. He was clearly upset, even worse than usual. But I couldn’t imagine it was all my fault. I could only watch him through the window of Barton’s office as he marched into the lobby.
Waiting for him by the entrance was a shockingly magnificent creature. Tall and slim, with silver hair, Quintara Valera was a sight to behold. A snow fae from the High North, he served as the Voice of the Council, an intermediary between the ruling fae and the Order.
The high inquisitor bowed before the legendary fae, granting him the same respect an initiate would a lord sergeant, and after a moment, the two moved to leave. Yet just as they were about to exit, Valera did the strangest thing.
He glanced back at me.
I turned away, overpowered by his stare. Fae were powerful creatures, and they had the uncanny knack for looking into people’s souls. I pressed a hand to my chest, making sure I was still in one piece, and sighed. “Okay, that was weird.”
“This isn’t a joke,” Barton said, loosening his collar and plopping down into his seat. “This is serious business, Ivy.”
“It’s always serious business, James,” I echoed in my best imitation of him.
I moved around his desk and opened up the top drawer, where he kept his human whiskey, and poured him a drink. But he shoved it away, unwilling to even look at it.
Wow, it’s even worse than I thought.
“You were found with a dead fae, Ivy!” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “One whose back had been violently cracked. That’s your modus operandi.”
“I didn’t kill her,” I said flatly.
“Then who did?”
“Something else.” I plopped down into my chair, exhausted from the day. “Something … evil. But I won’t know what until I hunt them down.”
“Hunt them down?” He rose from his seat, incredulous. “Are you serious?”
Uh-oh. Here it comes—the dreaded speech.
“Ivy, you have been grossly irresponsible, not to mention immature, reckless, and outright costly to this entire department. In the entire history of the Order, I have never had to endure such …”
I nodded absently as he prattled on, his face a blistering mess of sweat and reddish skin. But I couldn’t listen. I was too incensed. I needed to find out who had set me up and deliver a ball of fire right to their face.
It wasn’t until Barton moved around his desk to tower over me that I began to listen again.
“In fact, everything you do turns out a mess,” he continued. His hair was already falling into his face, and the veins in his eyes were pulsing. “You badger witnesses. You’re always late. You can’t even run a proper investigation. I sent you to arrest two dwarves in the Forged Lands, and you actually returned with a goblin.”
“Do you know how hard it is to find a dwarf in the Forged Lands?” I said, rising to my feet.
“It’s where they live!” Barton screamed.
I plopped back down into my seat, shrinking under his fury, and looked away. “Okay, so maybe you’ve got a point. But it’s different this time.”
“How so?”
“Because I was set up!”
He cupped his face and sighed in frustration. “Ivy …”
“Look,” I said. “I’m serious. Maybe something is going on around us that we don’t even know about. It’s like that word that starts with a c.”
“A conspiracy?” he asked.
“Yes!” I said. “Exactly.”
His eyes were bulging out of his head by now, and he had to bite down on one of his knuckles to steady himself. “Ivy, I’ve done so much to protect you. I’ve covered your tracks, erased incidents from your file. I even had a suspect’s statement completely wiped from the books just so no one would find out about your enjoyment of concerts in the human world. Yet still you choose to remain obstinate.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “What does obstinate mean?”
He cupped his face and sighed. “I try so hard to help you succeed, yet still you fail. I even pair you with the best inquisitors—level sevens and up—and all I ever hear are the same objections: ‘Doesn’t take orders … Acts without thought …’”
“Hey,” I said with a raised finger. “You know I don’t do well with others.”
“You don’t do well by yourself!” he growled.
I stared down the front of my coat, fidgeting with one of the buttons.
“In a way, I blame myself,” he said in a reflective manner.
“Maybe you should,” I said with a shrug.
He glared at me in astonishment, and I quickly looked away.
“I’ve spoiled you,” he continued wearily. “I thought that perhaps you deserved it, considering everything you went through. Not many would’ve survived such an ordeal. And in a way, I guess I felt sorry for you. But all of that is over. Starting now.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You.” He marched around his desk and opened his special drawer, the one I could never break into. Pulling out a thick parchment that was old and ratty, along with a bottle of red ink I’d never seen before, he began to scribble something in cursive. “From this moment on,” he said, “you’re on your own.”
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s a special ink,” he said.
“Special ink?”
“Designed to dry over a l
ong period of time—twenty-four hours, to be exact.”
My brows drew together. “I don’t understand.”
“What was the first thing you were taught during your training as an initiate?” he asked.
“To break the suspect’s fingers?”
He paused in his writing, straining against the frustration threatening to explode. “I’m not talking about interrogation techniques,” he managed through a tightened jaw. “I’m talking about the bloody job!”
I frowned as I rushed to think. “Ah! The first twenty-four hours!”
“The first twenty-four hours,” he echoed with a nod. “And why’s that so important?”
I chewed on one of my nails, thinking. “Because, in the magical world of Salvation, if the case isn’t solved by then, chances are it won’t ever be solved.”
“Exactly,” he said.
He signed the document and stamped it with his mark. It was then, as the ink began to glow, that I heard the sound of bells ringing in the courtyard. “What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s the Tower bells,” Barton explained. “They ring whenever an inquisitor is being excommunicated from the Order.”
I sighed in pity. “Wow, poor guy. Whoever he is.”
“It’s you, Ivy!” Barton nearly screamed. “It’s you who’s being excommunicated.”
“Me?” I whirled on him in horror. “Why? What did I do?”
He nearly broke the desk. “That’s it, I’m done!”
I didn’t know what to say. It was as if my entire life were coming to an end. “So, what, you’re kicking me out?”
“Oh no,” he said, gesturing to the window of his office, where I saw two armed figures approaching in the distance. “It’s far worse than that.”
5
Ivy
“The cells?” I rose from my seat, watching as the prison guards approached the door to his office. “You’re taking me to the cells?”
“You were caught holding the body of a dead fae in the human world. I have no other option.”
“But the cells?” I leaned over his desk, stunned. “The cells are full of thieves, brutes, and murderers. Creatures who the Order has arrested over the centuries. Creatures who I’ve arrested.”
“I understand that,” Barton said. “And if there was any other way, I would take it. But unfortunately, there isn’t.”
The door to his office opened, and the guards appeared. “Lord Sergeant?” one of them asked.
Barton halted them with a raised hand. “Wait outside, please.”
“But High Inquisitor Nelson said—”
“I know what he said!” Barton snapped. “And I’m telling you to wait outside. Now. Or the high inquisitor will have to order another pair of guards to collect your dead bodies.”
The guards swallowed, backed up, and closed the door.
“I can’t believe you’re letting them take me,” I said.
“An investigation will be initiated, and there’ll be a twenty-four-hour period for new evidence to be presented. Until then, you’ll remain in your cell.”
“And if nothing appears?” I asked.
He heaved out a long sigh. “You’ll be charged with murder.”
I nearly fell onto the floor, my stomach twisting with dread. Charged with murder? My life was over. I’d never see daylight again. I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t … “Who’s going to be in charge of the investigation?”
“The Order will appoint someone reliable.”
“Who?” I pressed.
As if embarrassed, he motioned at the window.
Luis was sitting at his desk, flirting with some striking elf who was filing a complaint.
“Him?” I grabbed one of the thick files on Barton’s desk and threw it at the window, causing Luis to jump in his seat.
“Luis is a full-fledged inquisitor, decorated twice over,” Barton said. “He’s more than qualified to handle the case.”
“He’s a sniveling sycophant who’s ready to mop the floor with his tongue if need be,” I replied.
“He’s dependable,” Barton pressed. “Which is more than I can say for you.”
I glared at him in disbelief. My entire life was being placed in the hands of an inquisitor who’d done nothing but try to get rid of me since I started. I was as good as dead. “You actually think I could’ve done this?”
“It’s not what I think,” he said. “It’s what I can prove. And right now, the evidence says that you killed that fae.”
I dug a hand into my pocket, feeling for the empty vial. It was the only piece of evidence I had, the only thing that Luis hadn’t gotten his greedy fingers on. But I hesitated. If I handed it over to Barton, it would probably get filed away, slipped into an evidence box that Luis would quickly shelve. But there was another option.
“I want to see Igama,” I said.
Barton’s eyes narrowed. “Igama? What for?”
“He’s my friend, and I trust him.”
The words stung Barton, and he began to fidget with one of the files on his desk. But I didn’t care. I wanted him to feel it; I wanted him to know how it felt to have the closest person to him turn their back on him.
But it didn’t last long. He shoved the file to the corner of his desk and sniffed. “He’s busy.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s always busy,” he growled.
I rose from my seat. “Why aren’t you fighting for me?”
“I’ve always fought for you.”
“No, you haven’t,” I said. “All you’ve done is yell at me and tell me what I could and couldn’t do.”
“I did the best I could,” he shot back.
“Which wasn’t much, was it?”
He leaned back against his desk and sighed. He looked like a man who’d been carrying a very heavy weight for a long time and was finally relieved to set it down. “Ivy, when I took you out of that orphanage, I saw something in you that I hadn’t seen in anybody else. A scared, lonely individual who was still willing to die before she was beaten. Sure, you were rough around the edges and a little smelly—”
“Smelly?” I took a whiff of my underarm and frowned.
“—but I thought I could change you. I thought I could build upon your strengths, make you into the best inquisitor the Order has ever seen.” He paused for a moment. “Better than me.”
“Then why don’t you trust me?” I pleaded. “Give me the twenty-four hours. Let me investigate the case. If I can’t find anything, then you can send me to the cells. Just don’t do this. Don’t place my fate in the hands of someone who doesn’t care. Please.”
“I’m sorry.” His gaze fell wearily toward the floor. “But it’s out of my hands.”
The door opened again and the guards appeared. “Excuse me, Lord Sergeant, but—”
Barton’s hand turned into a fist as he yelled at the two guards. “By the goddess, do you pester!”
“I’m sorry, my lord,” the guard said. “But we were ordered.”
“Yes,” Barton said, casting me one last glance. “As are we all. I’m sorry, Ivy. I truly am.”
“So am I.”
The guards took me by the arms, but I wrenched free of their grip. It caught them off guard, and they rushed for the weapons on their belts. But they were halted by a warning.
“Careful, boys,” I said. “I’m already being charged with killing a fae. You want me to add two guardsmen to the list?”
The guards exchanged a glance, their hands hovering above their swords. It wouldn’t be an easy fight, I knew, but I had no doubt who would leave here alive.
It wasn’t until Barton interceded that we halted.
“Stand down,” he ordered. “There’s no need to treat her like a criminal. There’ll be time enough for that in the cells.”
6
Ivy
So this was what hell felt like.
The entire department stilled as they watched me being escorted by the guards.
&nbs
p; Luis glanced over his shoulder at me with a smirk, appearing victorious. “Finally broke the man’s back, did ya?”
I bumped his desk with my hip, and his hot coffee fell into his lap. He jumped out of his seat, and I heard the scream of a girl.
“He has troll warts,” I said to the stunning elf he’d been flirting with for the past couple of minutes. She quickly made a face and recoiled in her seat.
The room parted as I strode toward the door, and I was eventually escorted to the basement, where I was to be processed by the desk clerk.
When I saw who it was, I made a face.
Garlock the orc was sitting at his desk, going through a pile of papers. His gaze lifted as he saw me, and a grin stretched across his meaty face. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Pale Fury herself …”
“Don’t get too cocky,” I said. “This is just temporary.”
He studied the guards at my sides and snorted. “I doubt that.”
“Let’s just get this over with, okay?”
“With pleasure.” He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and licked the end of his quill, excited to begin. “Weapons?”
“Just the usual,” I replied.
“What’s the usual?”
“Nothing much, just a dagger, a throwing star or two.”
“Let’s have them, then.”
I sighed. “Look, what do you say we overlook this part of the process? You know, for old times’ sake?”
“For old times’ sake?” He was in disbelief. “You want to go down memory lane, do ya? Okay, then, let’s see what we can find.” With a frown, he rolled back the end of his sleeve, and I saw one of the grossest scars I’d ever seen. “Had to spend two hours with the shamans to get this fixed.”
I gazed at my fingernails, acting unimpressed. “What can I say? I get emotional when I’m sparring.”
“Oh yeah? What about this, then?” He opened his mouth to show me a couple of cracked teeth.
“Hey!” I pointed at him. “You know I don’t like people taking my stapler.”