“No. He claimed not to know.” I unfastened my seat belt as my building approached. “You can drop me off here.”
I waited until the SUV disappeared down the street before heading up to my apartment. While I hadn’t been lying to Bridget about my intentions, it was too early for the conversation I planned. Pounding on Gunthra’s door while she was in bed wasn’t likely to win me any favors.
After I dumped my Gryphon windbreaker, I took out the cheap thumb drive I’d bought yesterday and copied Tom’s files onto it. Then I passed the time by hanging more decorations and planning my goblin attack.
By three, my apartment was starting to look like a home, but I was no closer to figuring out how to handle Gunthra. Since I’d gotten by with her before on my wits, that would have to be good enough. I pocketed the thumb drive, strapped Misery to my hip and left.
Gunthra’s servant seemed tempted to slam his mistress’s door in my face when I showed up, but he let me in with his customary disdain when I explained the purpose for my visit.
“Are you like this with all visitors or just anyone who’s not a goblin?”
I almost said “with anyone human”, and I barely caught my error in time. I didn’t like that. It suggested that I was starting to get comfortable thinking of myself as a nonhuman. Lucen might be happy, but I wasn’t.
The goblin sniffed. “Rumor is you raided the houses of a couple sylphs this morning.”
“Damn. Rumor travels fast, but those weren’t raids. We were there to arrest those sylphs.”
“The sylphs are our allies.”
In my pocket, I wrapped my fingers around the thumb drive. “Your people and your allies are breaking legal contracts, making ghouls and probably violating a hundred other laws I don’t know about.”
And when I thought about it like that, why was I turning this information over to Gunthra again? Ugh. Deals with preds were deals with the devil. In fact, if there was a devil, he was most likely a pred himself.
This time the goblin butler didn’t bother to respond. He opened the doors into Gunthra’s parlor and admitted me. “My lady will be with you shortly. You should have made an appointment.”
“Give me her secretary’s phone number and I will next time.”
Given the displeasure on the goblin’s face, I thought for sure he was reaching for a weapon to hit me with, but instead he pulled a business card out of his jacket pocket and thrust it at me. Well, then. Guess I’d been told.
Once he left, I slipped the card away because it really might be useful to call ahead.
Hoping Gunthra wouldn’t keep me waiting forever, I wandered around the room, inspecting her impressive collection of porcelain vases, jade and glass boxes, and gaudy wall hangings of every style.
The doors opened as I came to the framed dead butterflies over her mantel, which meant Gunthra must have registered the shivers they gave me. “Still wishing you were a mere caterpillar, Miss Moore? Or have you come to terms with what you truly are?”
I swallowed down my memories of our conversation about the butterflies. “You mean an abomination?”
“Are you?”
“It’s what you called me.”
Gunthra sat in her favorite spot and gestured for me to follow suit. “It’s what you are to me. It doesn’t mean that’s how you should view yourself. Should I see myself as a monster because that’s what humans think I am?”
“It depends. Are you doing monstrous things like allowing your people to drain away more lives?”
Gunthra’s self-satisfied smile faltered. “I told you. I’m looking into the matter.”
“At a caterpillar’s pace.” I sat, removing the thumb drive from my pocket, and smiled back at her.
“I appreciate that you expect I alone am capable of fixing this unfortunate situation faster than you and that massive Gryphon organization can, but you give me too much credit. I am but one person.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I think I’m crediting you just enough. You’re not alone. You have a council at your disposal for help.”
Gunthra had a couple books open on the table between us, and a drawing on one of the pages caught my eye. It was nothing special, just a pen-and-ink sketch of a bowl, but the books themselves reminded me of the book Tom had given me. Old and decaying. Although Gunthra’s books appeared to be textbooks instead of a journal.
Still, everyone, it seemed, was doing research, and I wondered why.
Gunthra caught wind of my curiosity and shut the books. “You have the information you promised.”
I set the thumb drive on the table slowly and deliberately, trying to catch either of the books’ titles on their spines. All I managed to note were the words history of. “This is everything I was able to get on the furies’ behavior around the time of the Aubrey case. I read through it myself, and I have to admit, I have no idea why you’re interested in this.”
“Why I’m interested isn’t your concern.”
I seriously wondered about that, so I plundered on. “I’m sure, but there’s nothing much there that you can’t possibly already know.”
That was a bit of a bluff. What Gunthra might know or not was nothing I could know. But if I kept babbling, I hoped to push her into talking and get her to explain what she wanted from these files. I didn’t like handing them over in the first place, but I especially hated it when I didn’t have a clue what her game was.
Gunthra set the thumb drive on top of her books and stacked the two volumes so that their spines faced away from me. “Perhaps you’re not reading carefully enough, Miss Moore. Or perhaps you’re not reading to discover the correct information.”
“Or perhaps whatever you want isn’t there. If that’s the case, I’m not going back for more. I couldn’t without you being more specific about what you want to find.”
“Understood.”
I took a deep breath. “Then our deal has been fulfilled.”
Gunthra held out her hand. “Assuming what is on this drive is what I asked for, it is fulfilled.”
“It is.” As she should damn well be able to tell since she could sense if I were lying.
I gritted my teeth and shook her hand. Cold power brushed my skin and slithered up my wrist. Since I wasn’t immune to the sheer blast of magic caused by a pred’s touch, that brief contact was enough to stir up my need to learn more. My greed for knowledge.
What could possibly be in those files that she wanted so badly as to waste her debt with me on them? What damning secrets had I turned over?
Gunthra made a move to dismiss me, but I kept my butt planted on the sofa. “Is there more?” she asked.
“Actually, yeah. Are you aware that three more addicts had their souls sucked away? And those are only the ones we’re aware of.”
The Dom’s eyes fluttered wide for a half second, then she regained her composure. “I was not, although I was aware of the commotion that you and your Gryphon allies created this morning. I assume the two events are connected, and since you went breaking into the homes of two sylphs, I also assume the addicts in question had nothing to do with me or my people.”
Good deflection, I thought grudgingly. “Two of the addicts were connected to two sylphs. As of this morning, the third addict’s master hasn’t been identified. It could be another goblin, possibly the same one who drained Eric Marshall. If you—”
“If you had proof of that, Miss Moore, you’d either be telling me about it or the Gryphons would be dragging me downtown for one of their entertaining chats. So how does this concern me? I already told you I’m investigating what happened to Mr. Marshall.”
“I’m starting to think we have an epidemic of magical attacks going on, all stemming from Shadowtown, and the first-known victim was a goblin’s addict. That’s how it concerns you, and frankly, that concerns me, as well.”
To my surprise, Gunthra
didn’t counter immediately. Her long, slender fingers grazed the hems of her sleeves. She appeared to be considering things, but what? At last she stood, and there was no question that she wished me gone.
“People are on edge, Miss Moore. And when people are on edge, they do questionable things. It’s as true of humans as it is of goblins or sylphs. Or satyrs,” she added after a heavy pause.
I stood, too, because I disliked the Dom staring down at me. “And because they’re on edge they’re attacking their own addicts?”
As I said it, I realized that didn’t make sense. Preds needed their addicts. So why would they attack them? Answer: they wouldn’t. They weren’t. Our theory that Eric’s master had drained him in revenge had been shot to hell last night.
My jaw fell open as I put it together. “They’re on a bender, aren’t they? They’re nervous, so they want to feed.”
Referring to humans as food bugged me, but from a pred’s perspective, that was exactly what they were—an emotional banquet. That left me with another question. Were the preds stealing and gorging on their stolen emotions like a type of anxiety eating, or were they stealing them and hoarding the power because the cause of their anxiety was something big. Like apocalyptically so. Were the preds acting like humans who stocked their survival shelters for the end of the world?
Gunthra didn’t deny it, and her large brown eyes flickered to the books on the table. Or maybe not to the books at all. To the thumb drive.
I wet my lips. “This has something to do with why you want that information on the furies, doesn’t it?”
She must have realized she’d given something away because her back straightened and she walked stiffly toward the door. “Our deal has been fulfilled, Miss Moore. If you want to make another deal for additional information, we can discuss terms at a later date. I have a busy day ahead of me.”
Yeah, I bet. Going through that thumb drive. “Fine, but I want those souls back and those people’s lives restored before it’s too late. If you know anything, I will be back and with reinforcements. This isn’t over.”
“No, I very much fear it’s not.” Then she shut the door on me.
Bitch.
Chapter Fifteen
The addict support group met in a drab, white function room near Mass General’s sprawling complex. A patient liaison pointed me in the right direction with a pitying expression. I wanted to explain that it wasn’t nice to openly pity pred addicts—or any addicts—but I held my tongue.
About twenty people were mingling in the room when I arrived. Most hung out in groups of four or five, drinking coffee in paper cups and talking about last night’s TV shows or their families. They were a diverse bunch—men and women, old and young. I counted addicts of every affliction, but only one rage addict. That itself could be interesting given that something might be up with the furies, or it could simply be that rage addicts needed more intensive interventions than a support group. Having met a couple, that was easy to believe.
But the most interesting part at all was that when I closed my eyes, they disappeared. I could hear them, but emotionally they were dead to me. Addicts could only feed their masters, so this wasn’t a surprise, nor something I hadn’t encountered before. Yet I’d never been around so many addicts at once. It was like losing one of my senses.
As I clung to the doorway, acclimating to their lack of presence, one of the men approached me. He held out a hand. “Hey, first time here? I’m Justin. Welcome to the group.”
I took the hand warily. “Jess, and yes.”
Was this the time to explain that I wasn’t an addict, or would that make people uncomfortable? Would it be better to lie? Unlike me, these people couldn’t tell if I was or wasn’t. I’d asked Bridget for advice, but she’d had none. In retrospect, I should have asked someone like Andre. My ex-partner was a people person. Bridget was no more of that than I was.
Justin had been talking, but I’d been paying more attention to my thoughts, so I smiled politely and tried to catch up. He was in his early fifties if I had to guess, dressed in dusty jeans and a dustier jean jacket. A lust addict, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. I wondered if I knew his master.
“So what’s your sin?”
“Sorry?”
“Your sin. You know, which demon’s got your soul by the balls?”
Soul by the balls? I gave up trying to form a mental image to make that figure of speech work. “You could say I’ve had my troubles with a lot of preds.”
“Ah, I’m sorry to hear it.” He clasped my hands in his, and the clunky ring on his left hand hit my knuckle painfully. “Well, we come together here to support each other. Sometimes that means sharing information on magic or what’s happening in Shadowtown. Sometimes it means helping each other deal with family issues that arise because of our conditions. Other times it’s helping each other cope in general, or hell, sometimes we just sit back and shoot the shit. I’m sort of the informal leader around here. Why don’t you grab a cup of coffee and I’ll introduce you to people? First names only. We want everything confidential, or barring that, anonymous. Get me?”
“Got you,” I said, taking my hand back.
If this guy was in charge, then he was the one I should talk to, and I got the sense from him that honesty would be my best policy. Just as well. Laying everything out upfront was more my style than sneakiness. “I’d better explain. I’m not an addict, but I have a friend who is. Or was, I should say. I don’t want to be here under false pretenses or make anyone uncomfortable, but I am looking for help for that friend. I’m not a Gryphon, but I work with them as a consultant. If it’s okay, I’d like a few minutes to speak to the group about what’s happening. I think this would fall under news about Shadowtown.”
Justin scratched his chin. “I see. Well, I don’t know how well we can help with anything—”
“The friend I’m talking about used to attend these meetings. His name is Eric.”
Recognition brightened Justin’s green eyes. “I know who you mean, yeah. Something happened to him?”
“To him and to others. Addicts are being attacked.” I didn’t like that I might need to repeat myself before the whole group, but if Justin was in charge, I had to impress on him why I was here.
“Jesus.” He refilled his coffee cup from the carafe. “You talking like those murders the other month?”
I grimaced. You mean the ones I was framed for? Dragon shit on toast. I hoped he didn’t recognize me. My face had been plastered on TV a couple times in the aftermath, and I did not feel like answering questions.
“Not quite like that. Worse in some ways because everyone is at risk this time.”
“All right, Jesus. You don’t mind speaking first and then leaving?” Justin glanced over his shoulder. “So we can talk about other stuff with just the group?”
“That’s fine. I don’t need to take up your whole meeting.”
Justin spoke to me a bit longer, pressing for information on the attacks, until I explained it made more sense for me to talk to everyone at once. After that, he called the group together.
Metal folding chairs had been laid out in a rough circle in the middle of the room, and everyone grabbed one. I took a seat next to Justin and scanned people’s hands. I had no guarantee that the mysterious Shawna was an addict or that she attended these meetings, but it struck me as a good possibility. And if Eric left these meetings with her to go to Vine, they must be cozy. She was my best bet for finding the goblin’s name, assuming no one else here knew it.
Tall and thin, the waitress at Vine had said of Shawna. With rings on every finger. That one detail was precious and narrowed down my search to a single candidate who sat directly across from me. Her height was difficult to judge while seated, but she was—as promised—model thin with long brown hair, and each of her fingers were covered in silver rings.
Perfect. I only
had to hope she had useful information.
As people got settled, Justin welcomed everyone then introduced me. “Jess is friends with Eric, who I see isn’t here tonight, and she might know something about that. She also has some news from the Gryphons that we should hear.”
I couldn’t sense a trace of surprise from the group, and it was weirding me out to be so blind among so many humans. To hide my awkward fidgeting, I folded my hands together. Twenty-plus pairs of alarmed eyes focused on me.
I thanked Justin and explained yet again what had happened to Eric, reminding everyone that they might have heard parts of the story on the news. “What the news hasn’t gotten around to reporting is that there were three more similar attacks. Any information you can provide on the pred who addicted Eric would be extremely useful. As of now, we believe everyone could be in danger. The sooner we find the culprits, the better for all.”
That was probably exactly the sort of thing Bridget hadn’t wanted me to say. After all, she’d sent me because she thought sending a Gryphon would freak these people out. But screw that. If I were an addict, I’d want the truth. And as someone trying to bring down the goblin, I wanted to provide incentive for people to give me information.
“Do you know which kind of preds are doing this?” a woman with graying hair asked.
The man two seats down from her crushed his coffee cup. “What kind of problem did Eric have? That would tell.”
Several others grumbled or jumped in with guesses. I kept an eye on Shawna before answering, waiting to see if she would volunteer information. Her head was bent and hair shrouded her face, but her fingers played with her rings.
She knew something, or maybe she was just upset. Without being able to read her, I was helpless. Body language was one of those things I’d stopped paying as much attention to over the last ten years. What was the point when I could sense how most people felt?
“There have been multiple types of addicts attacked so far,” I said, cutting off the various debates. “Goblins and sylphs have been implicated, but there might be others involved.”
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