Iron Bones

by Yasmine Galenorn

  “Will you allow me to gift you with this?” I asked, kneeling.

  The man stirred, pushing himself to a sitting position. He stared at the money suspiciously. “Why?”

  “Because I want to.” It was that simple. I wanted to help him. I wanted him to have a good meal. Or if he wanted a bottle of booze to comfort him during the long nights, I didn’t care.

  He gazed at my face, then slowly reached out and pressed his fingers against mine. His eyes were misting over and he cleared his throat. “Thank you, miss.”

  I pressed the money into his hand and folded his fingers over it. “Put that where nobody else finds it till you need it. Peace be with you.” It was the best I could do. I couldn’t bring myself to say “Good luck” or any other of the inane clichés that were running through my head.

  “What can I give you in exchange?” he asked before I straightened back up.

  I frowned. I had to give him the chance to offer something in return. He deserved his dignity, even though he was down on his luck. After a moment, I decided to take a chance. I turned to Herne.

  “That picture of Nigel—give it to me, please.”

  Herne silently handed it to me, along with a flashlight.

  I held it out, illuminating it with the light. “Have you ever seen this man? We think he used to come around the club there.”

  The streep leaned forward, squinting. Then, slowly, he pulled back, fear registering on his face. “Yeah, I saw him. He was running from someone. I don’t know who. They chased him down to the end of the alley.” He pointed toward the opposite end.

  “Thanks. You’re sure it was him?”

  “Yep. I remember thinking how he couldn’t run very fast for such a slight boy.”

  “Do you remember when this happened?”

  The streep shrugged. “Week…maybe two weeks ago. The days get lost out here, you see.”

  “Yeah, I suppose they would,” I said, standing up. “Did they see you watching?”

  “Oh no, not me. I’m not stupid, even though I do forget things easier now. I hid.”

  “Well, thank you.” I turned to go.

  “Good-bye, miss, and I hope you find what you’re looking for.” And with that, he blended back into the shadows and snoring soon rose from underneath the cardboard.

  I returned to Herne and Viktor and, in a low voice, told them what the man had said. We headed toward the end of the alleyway.

  The alley ended in a dead end, with a chain link fence covering the exit. Beyond the fence was a lot that looked like it was being used as an impromptu dump. There was no gate leading in, so we could either go the long way around, or climb the fence. I chose the most expedient route, sticking my shoe in one of the open links, and hauling myself up the fence. It rattled as I climbed it, but not loud enough to draw unwanted attention.

  Herne and Viktor followed suit, though the fence threatened to topple when the half-ogre began to climb. We dropped over the edge, down to the ground on the other side, and quickly straightened.

  The lot we found ourselves in was actually the size of two city lots, and it was overgrown with a tangle of brambles and weeds that were almost as tall as I was. Inroads had been made through the veritable jungle, looking like somebody had come through with a machete and carved a winding path at some point. We slowly began to move forward, Herne insisting on taking the lead. I walked behind Herne, and Viktor brought up the rear. The trail was only wide enough for one person, unless somebody wanted to risk tumbling into the blackberry bushes.

  Everywhere, garbage littered the lot, and a dim light filtered down from a street lamp on the other end of the lot. But we were into the wee hours of dusk, and everything was muted in shades of gray. Here and there a wild rose bush pushed its way through the tangle of blackberries, or a cottonwood popped through. The trees were scavengers, growing up where forests had been mowed down.

  I grimaced as I stepped on something soft and squishy, and I decided it was better not to look down. Whether it was dog poop, an old slice of pizza, or a banana slug, I really didn’t want to know, especially when there wasn’t any place I could wipe my shoe off.

  We were almost to the center of the lot when the scent of decay grew stronger. I wrinkled my nose at the putrid smell.

  “What the fuck is that? It’s not skunk, that much I know.”

  Herne held up his hand, motioning me silent. He held his fingers to his lips. He slowed going forward, almost to a crawl. Then, under the growing darkness, he paused, pointing to the side. There, we saw a feral dog, her eyes glued to us. She began to growl, low and threatening. She had a bone between her feet, one that she had been worrying. The bone looked suspiciously like…

  “Crap,” I whispered. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yeah, I believe so.” Viktor very slowly edged toward the cur. He held out his hand, keeping his voice even and mild. “Come on, girl, let me see what you have. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to see what you found.”

  The dog stared at him uncertainly, but then slowly stood and limped her way over to the half-ogre. He brushed her head with his hand and she whimpered, raising her front paw. It looked gnawed on, as though she had been biting it, or perhaps another dog had gotten to her.

  “Poor girl, you’re hurting, aren’t you?” Viktor knelt, scratching behind her ears. He let out a soft curse. “Damned fucking idiots. She’s not feral, but she’d be better off. Somebody collared her and it’s too tight, it’s cut into her neck, like it’s grown into her flesh. Either she ran away or they just dumped her.”

  My blood roiled. I hated people who abused their animals. “Can we help her?”

  “We’ll help her, yes.” Herne crossed to Viktor’s side and knelt next to him, running his hand over the dog’s head. A moment later, she slumped. “She’s just in a deep sleep, don’t worry. But move her, if you will, so we can see what she was gnawing on.”

  As Viktor carefully carried her out of the way, I moved in.

  We were right. The bone she had been chewing on was the remains of a human arm, amputated shortly above the elbow joint. The hand and finger bones were still attached, with some flesh still clinging. I shuddered.

  Behind where the dog had been resting lay what was left of a human body, gnawed on by what looked like any number of animals. It had been a man, that much we could see, and I saw a wallet next to the body. Ignoring the maggots that swarmed over the rotting flesh, I darted in and grabbed up the tri-fold. After I opened it, Herne shone the flashlight onto the driver’s license.

  Charlie Darren wouldn’t have to worry about his roommate coming home again. We had found the remains of Nigel Henderson.

  Chapter 11

  “WELL, WE FOUND him,” Viktor said. “Now what? Should we call the police, since he was human?”

  “Therein lies the dilemma.” Herne squatted next to the body, leaning back on his heels. “I wonder if a Morte Seer could help us speak with him.”

  “What makes you think Nigel would be willing to help us? Just because he’s dead, that doesn’t mean he can’t lie. And if he’s still harboring grudges against all Cryptos, he’s likely to ignore our questions.” Viktor shook his head. “Besides, I’d say by the looks of him, he’s been dead for the two weeks he’s been missing. Want to make a bet that party he went to was a setup?”

  “Why would the HLA kill him? He was a member in good standing, right?” I wasn’t tracking what Viktor was saying.

  “That’s the thing. Suppose they weren’t the ones who killed him? We’re assuming a lot here.” Viktor reached down, stroking the dog. She looked like a mutt. She could have been a lab or a retriever or any number of breeds.

  Like me, I thought. Like Viktor.

  “Herne, what do you want to do with the body?” I stepped to the side as a sudden change in the evening breeze put me downwind of the corpse and the smell washed over me.

  “We’re going to take care of the cleanup ourselv
es. There are tactful ways we can reach out to the cops if we need to, but so far, nobody seems to be pounding down doors trying to find Nigel, so I think we’re safe.” He stood, arching his back as he stretched. Then, pulling out his phone, he punched in a number. “Hey, Akron? We need a cleanup crew. I want any evidence bagged, tagged, and a report on my desk tomorrow. Right… Murdered human, but he’s mixed up in a code red case… Yeah, I know.” Herne rattled off our location then hung up. “Akron will be here with his crew in twenty minutes.”

  Over the past few months, I had found out that the Wild Hunt employed a number of contractors. Akron was a shifter—a raven shifter—and he led a clean-up crew that not only took care of crime scenes, but he also ran an underground medical examiner’s unit. He was a priest of the Morrígan and was more reliable than Old Faithful. I had never met him, but I knew who he was.

  “So we should wait for him?” I glanced around the lot. There didn’t seem to be anybody else around.

  “Yeah, I’ll need to tell him what we’re looking for. I think he knows a Morte Seer, so he might be able to convince her to see if she can find out anything.” Herne paused, glancing down at the dog. “We can’t leave her here. She needs treatment.”

  “I know,” Viktor said. “I thought I might take her, if she’s well enough to be adopted.” His voice softened. “I can’t stand to see critters hurt.”

  “You already have a menagerie,” Herne said, but it was barely a protest. He laughed. “We’ll take her to an emergency vet when we leave here. Can you get that collar off her neck?”

  “I’m afraid to try. It’s embedded too deeply and I think it might be stuck to the skin.” He fretted over the pup. “She isn’t full grown yet, I’ll tell you that.”

  I walked away from them, looking around the lot. It was a tangle of vegetation and litter, and I wondered how many bodies had gone back to the earth here, beneath the cover of the brambles. And that reminded me of Blackthorn, the King of Thorns. I shuddered, wondering if he ever traveled here, or if there were other Ante-Fae like him. I crossed my arms and turned back to Herne and Viktor.

  “I wish they’d get here. I don’t like this place.”

  “Neither do I,” Viktor said. “There’s something fetid about the energy here. It’s tainted.”

  “We’ll be gone soon enough.” Herne planted his feet on the ground and, crossing his arms, stared up at the sky. “I feel something coming,” he said faintly, a distant look on his face. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something in the air, waiting.”

  I shivered and moved closer to him. “Yeah, I know what that feels like.” Then, trying to change the subject, I asked, “How do you think Kipa’s doing with Kamaria?”

  Herne kept his attention focused on the expanding panorama of stars. They were faint, thanks to the light pollution that radiated out from the city, but the stars were still there, watching down over us, cold and aloof.

  “If anybody can reach her, Kipa can. We’ll call Talia when we’re done here and ask how it’s going. She went to the hospital with him.”

  Just then, a group of men rounded the bend, carrying a number of bags and boxes. They were mere shadows against the dark mounds of brambles and bushes, and they were silent as the grave as they approached us. I was curious as to what Akron would be like.

  The front man, a lithe, alabaster-skinned, man with dark stringy hair stopped in front of Herne and knelt, then rose. His features were angular and sharp, and he was wearing a black tunic over camo pants. I nodded to him.

  Herne blinked, then said, “Oh, that’s right. You haven’t met yet. Akron, meet Ember Kearney. Ember—this is Akron.”

  He stared at me out of beady eyes, his gaze darting over me in a quick appraisal. He neither smiled nor frowned, nor did he reach out to shake my hand. Instead, he bowed precisely, and said, “Well met, Ember.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just whispered hello back at him. It was an odd thing to meet over a corpse, and somehow shaking hands and being friendly didn’t seem proper protocol.

  Akron turned to the corpse. “I suppose we’re lucky that humans don’t decompose on death like the sub-Fae.”

  I blinked. I hadn’t even thought about that. Goblins, along with several other variants of the sub-Fae, decomposed within minutes upon their deaths. They had no cemeteries in their homeland, no mausoleums. It was a trait that seemed to be limited to a few races, and now I wondered what had caused the mutation. I made a note to find out, and turned my attention back to Akron and his crew. They were already busy, bagging and tagging everything around the body.

  “We need as much evidence as you can gather,” Herne said. “As I mentioned, this is a code red situation. If you have a Morte Seer on hand, it might be useful if we could try to ask Nigel’s spirit a few questions.”

  Akron scanned the body, then shook his head. “No can do, Herne. The body’s too ripe. You have a window of about three days, and after that, too late.”

  “Really? I thought you could use a Morte Seer on old bones?” Herne looked put out.

  “Nope. But we’ll get you a report on everything we find here. Now scram and give us the room we need to work.” He shooed us out, murmuring a good-bye as we left.

  Viktor picked up the dog as we turned to go.

  “She’s skin and bones,” he said.

  “Come on, we’ll find an emergency vet,” I started to say, but Akron came over to see what we were doing.

  “What have you got?”

  “Dog was chewing on Nigel’s finger bones,” Viktor said. “She’s in need of treatment, I’m afraid.” He showed Akron the collar that was effectively choking the pup. “Do you think she’s got a chance?”

  I wondered why he would ask Akron, but then thought—of course, Akron was a priest of the Morrígan, a goddess who ruled over death. If anybody could tell, he should be able to.

  Akron put his hand on the dog’s chest and closed his eyes. A moment later he opened them again, smiling. “She can be treated. She’s not ready to give up yet. So take her to a vet and get her fixed up. She looks like she’s been sorely abused and neglected. She’ll need a lot of love and care.”

  “I can give her that,” Viktor said. “Thank you.”

  “Not a problem. Now, I’ll get back to work. By the way, if she’s swallowed any of his bones, you know they’re gone.”

  “Right. We’re not worried about his skeleton, so much as anything you find around it or on it,” Herne said.

  And with that, he led us back down the alley, past the sleeping streep, back to his car.

  ANGEL WAS WAITING up when I got home. Herne dropped me off, then he and Viktor headed to the emergency vet. I trudged in, feeling covered with dirt and slime. I wasn’t, but the whole hanging out with a rotting corpse had left me feeling grubby.

  “What happened to you?” she asked. “Did you meet the vampire?”

  “We not only met the vamp, but we found his roommate dead in a back lot near a supremacy bar. How’s that for an evening? And Nigel wasn’t just dead, but juicy dead! So we were guarding his corpse until Herne’s cleanup crew came in to take over. I need a shower.”

  “Go on,” she said, waving me toward my bedroom. “Are you hungry?”

  I shook my head, still feeling somewhat queasy. “That’s another thing…but I’ll tell you after I’ve cleaned up.” The cookies-and-lemonade incident came flooding back, and now I was back to wondering if somehow I had been infected, thanks to the ingredients Charlie had used.

  By the time I showered and then curled up on the sofa with Mr. Rumblebutt on my lap, it was midnight. I told Angel what happened as she fixed me a cup of tea.

  “So he was a racist scum, and now he’s dead?” She cupped her mug, inhaling the fragrant scent of peppermint. “What’s the next step?”

  “We see what Akron and his team can find out. It’s too late for the Morte Seers to be of any help, but I’m wondering if perhaps someone like Kam
aria—a medium—could contact his spirit.” I finished my tea. “I’m so tired. I think I’ll go to bed. Herne wants us in tomorrow bright and early.”

  “But tomorrow’s Saturday. I thought we could work on the house now that the demon seed thing is gone.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not fair.”

  “Not fair, but the situation in TirNaNog and Navane rate a code red on the emergency scale, so we’re going to work.”

  “Wait, what were you upset about when you came back from talking to Morgana? You never did get a chance to tell me.” Angel took my mug, carrying both cups back into the kitchen.

  I was too tired to go into it. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Today kind of threw me to the wolves. Or so it feels.”

  “As long as you don’t end up in Kipa’s arms, you’ll be fine,” she said with a laugh.

  I tried to smile, but it was hard, given how much had gone down. “Night, Ange,” I said, using the nickname I hadn’t used since we were in high school.

  She stared at me for a moment. “That bad, huh? Well, it will keep till morning. Try to get some sleep.”

  And with that, we both headed off to bed. As I tried to drift off, though, my mind kept jumping from my grandfather, to the Leannan Sidhe, to the Autumn Stalkers, to Nigel’s corpse. Sleep was a long time coming.

  MR. RUMBLEBUTT WOKE me up by licking my face. I blinked as he dragged his sandpaper tongue across one eyelid. Seeing I was awake, he settled in on my chest, purring up a storm.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. R., but I can’t stay in bed today. I know it’s Saturday, but I have to go to work.” I rolled up to a sitting position, cuddling him to my chest, and sat cross-legged with him in my lap as I grabbed his brush from my nightstand and gave him a good brushing. He rolled over on his back, begging for more.

  “You love this, don’t you, you little goon?”