I pointed at the black box on the map again. “An old boyfriend of hers lived there.”
“Is that really enough to draw conclusions from?” Abe turned off the light on his phone and set it on the table before stretching his shoulders.
“He’s quite right, love,” Bub said. “Don’t let your anger at her besting you last winter paint her as every new villain. It might hinder your investigation.”
I could feel my face warm with annoyance. Kevin didn’t say anything, but his eyebrows lifted with alarm and he made an exaggerated point to look down the end of his own nose as he took a drink of his coffee.
“She didn’t best me,” I said through gritted teeth. “And it doesn’t matter whether the map is Tasha’s or Karen’s. They’re both on the lam, and this is all we have to go on at the moment. Do you any of you have a better idea?” I was on the verge of shouting, and from the silence and everyone’s guarded expressions, I could tell they knew it too.
Abe drained his cup of coffee and set it down on the table hard—harder than he intended from the surprised flutter of his wings. “I don’t have guard duty tonight, so tell me where to go and what to look for.”
I exhaled slowly as I refocused on the map, trying to relax the strain I could feel creasing my face. “You can have the Phantom Café. Take Tasha and Karen’s pictures from the most wanted database and show them around. Then check out the market booths. I know the vendors change too regularly to keep up with on a map, but it’s worth taking a look.”
“What about me?” Bub asked. “I want to help.”
I shook my head. “Jenni would kill me if I let you get involved. The council may have pardoned you, but they’re a long way from trusting you, even after Cindy’s reluctant confession.”
“I’ll go in disguise,” he insisted. “Or I can just casually walk by and take a look. They don’t have to know I went there on your orders. Let me help.”
I chewed my bottom lip and sighed. “There’s the grocery store over on Westwood Drive—”
“I’ll take it,” Kevin snapped, blushing when I gave him a pointed look. “We need more coffee and milk anyway, so two birds, one stone.”
“What about this one?” Bub asked, pointing at a spot near the condo.
“I know the owner,” I lied. “I’ll take that one.”
He frowned, much like I had at Kevin, and then scanned the map for the final lipstick smudge. “That leaves… Saint Benny Jo’s, the thrift store.” He gave me an appalled scowl. “I can’t go in there. I wouldn’t be caught dead in secondhand rags. All of Eternity knows that.”
“Caught dead.” Kevin snorted. “Most of Benny’s customers are dead.”
I rolled my eyes. “I have a bag of old clothes in my closet that I’ve been meaning to donate for a while now. You can drop it off for me and save yourself the embarrassment of looking like you’re there to shop.”
Bub didn’t seem to like that idea any better, but then his eyes lit up. “Do you suppose the receipt you found could be from the thrift store?”
“It’s possible. We’d need another one to compare it with to be sure.”
His face crumpled again. “That would require me to actually buy something, wouldn’t it?”
Kevin slapped him on the back as he stood. “You sacrificed most of your wealth and good reputation last year to take on an undercover mission, and now you’re worried about being seen making a cheap clothing purchase?”
Bub shrugged. “Everyone has their limits. Besides, being evil is much more believable of me than being cheap.”
Abe stood and rubbed his hands together as he rotated his shoulders. “Looks like we’re all set. Think I could get a cup of that joe to go?” he asked, eyeing his empty mug.
Chapter 13
"I think to be in exile is a curse, and you need to turn it into a blessing. You've been thrown into exile to die, really, to silence you so that your voice cannot come home. And so my whole life has been dedicated to saying, I will not be silenced." —Ariel Dorfman
I followed Bub, Kevin, and Abe across Memorial Drive to the travel booth on the corner, where I gave Bub a quick kiss and bid them all farewell as they ventured off to investigate the locations Tasha had circled on the map. I was still determined it was hers.
Maybe Bub was right and I had painted Tasha as the villain prematurely, but I didn’t care. She was already guilty, so even if her lipstick didn’t match the circles on the map, it wouldn’t do anything to help her case in my book.
Once I was alone, I crossed Divine Boulevard and stopped in front of the Little Folk Shoppe. The heady smell of incense created an exotic haze that stretched down the sidewalk in both directions and stained everything a pale gray.
I’d almost given the store to Bub and saved him from his own personal nightmare, but nostalgia had stopped me. Winston used to sneak out of the throne realm to buy Naledi incense from this quaint little shop run by an exiled faerie, and we’d held secret meetings in the tiny garden tucked between the shop and the alley out back. I’d never actually been inside before.
The store’s front door was painted dark brown, looking much like a tree trunk against the building’s flaking, green brick exterior, and even more so with the narrow arbor that framed the door and supported a tangle of honeysuckle. It was so overgrown that I had to duck when I entered.
I expected a bell to jingle, but instead, the corner of the door bumped a wooden wind chime suspended from the ceiling. It bounced off the one hanging next to it, and then a domino effect took over, echoing an endless encore of hollow knocks and thumps.
“Be with ye in a moment,” an aged voice called from somewhere unseen.
I closed the door behind me and took a cautious step inside, avoiding the many tables of trinkets that crowded the entry. Rows and rows of short shelves filled the small space, and over their tops I spied a pair of curtains that had been tied off to reveal a window into a small back room.
As I neared, I noticed a counter spanning beneath the curtains, topped with an old-fashioned cash register and a dozen mason jars filled with various stones and crystals. One of the jars held some water and several blackthorn clippings heavy with white, star-shaped blossoms. I couldn’t smell them over the musk of incense, but they were beautiful to look at. So beautiful that I didn’t notice the little old man until he was standing right in front of me.
“What can I help ye with today?” he asked, giving me a tight-lipped smile. It seemed more of a polite effort to hide his unusually sharp teeth than a show of unwilling cheer. I’d caught a glimpse when he first spoke, and the oddity compelled me to look for more.
I quickly noted his pointy ears and the extra knuckles on his lanky fingers. His arms too were curiously long, leading me to believe his dress shirt was custom-stitched to keep from looking ridiculously ill-fitting. He seemed to care a great deal about his appearance, considering the crisp bowtie and polished Oxfords. It was strange for his brand of fey, but the exiled did seem to have a more prominent human streak than their kosher kin.
I took too long to answer and his friendly shopkeeper facade wavered.
“I’m just looking,” I said, pasting on an awkward smile in hopes of bringing his back.
“So it seems.” Unfiltered suspicion filled his dark eyes, but his smile returned, even if a bit tighter than before. “I’ll be at the counter if ye find yourself in need of assistance.”
I nodded my thanks as he turned and headed back toward a doorway that I was guessing circled around to the spot behind the counter. When I saw him climb atop a stool behind the register, I ducked down one of the center aisles and pretended to be checking out all the random wares—chipped figurines, handwoven baskets, dried herbs, decaying books with leather covers so scarred that the titles were no longer legible.
I tried to picture Tasha in here, perusing through these aisles, fingering the useless trinkets. What made this place so special? Why would she circle it with lipstick on her map?
It was possible
it was just a meeting place. The old fey didn’t look like the type to concern himself with the day-to-day turmoil of the outside city, and the garden out back had been secluded enough for Winston and me. Maybe it had worked for her too.
A familiar smell gave me pause as I rounded the next aisle. Dozens of angled baskets were fastened together, each of them crammed full with incense cones and sticks. The contrasting fragrances overwhelmed my nose. I took a step back and coughed into the bend of my elbow, and then took more shallow breaths through my mouth as I approached the aisle again.
It took longer than expected, but I eventually found the spicy frankincense and myrrh blend that Naledi preferred. It had just a hint of African violet mixed in, offsetting the strong musk with a delicate floral note. I took an empty wooden box from an opposite shelf and filled it with the black cones. There was no way I’d burn them in the condo—Bub was allergic to the exorcising properties of both frankincense and myrrh—but I couldn’t leave without buying something. The old fey’s beady eyes hadn’t left me since he’d perched behind the counter. I didn’t need him alerting Tasha if they were somehow in league.
“Find everything ye were looking for?” he asked cryptically.
“Yup.” I gave him the box of incense and a pair of coins that covered my bill. He rang me up, dropping my coins in his vintage register before bagging the box of incense.
“Good day,” he said, his wary eyes still trying to read me.
“You too.” I headed for the door, ready for some fresh air.
Once outside, I quickly stepped around the side of the building, circling to the back garden where I hoped to find something more useful. Any trace of Tasha would do. I just needed something to keep my spirits from dissolving completely.
Spring had done a number on the garden. It was even more lush than I remembered, as if winter had done nothing to slow its progress. A hedge of thick blackthorn bushes blocked off the view of the ally. The reach of their thorny, blooming limbs left only a narrow passage to access the dumpsters hidden behind a stone wall that blocked off the view of Memorial Drive. Baskets of daisies and petunias hung from the gothic spears that lined the top of the wall, making the space look like it had been transported here from a different time—if not for the occasional sound of a boat or car in the distance.
I sat my shopping bag down and bent over to check the weathered bench near the back door, running my hand under the seat and behind the back rest, feeling for anything that might be hidden there. Then I peeked behind the hanging baskets and under the various potted plants.
The back door creaked open suddenly, and the shopkeeper stepped out onto the patio, a black staff held tightly in his gangly fingers as if he expected to have to use it on me.
I held my hands up and backed away slowly. “I was just admiring your garden.”
“Admiring me garden, eh?” he said, his Irish accent thickening with his anger and mistrust. “Ye be admiring the undersides of me patio stones next?”
I nodded at the buckets of flowers and plants lining the base of the stone wall. “I was just hoping to find a potter’s stamp so I could purchase some of those for my own garden.”
His eyes narrowed and he made a jabbing motion as he took a step closer, backing me away from the patio and dangerously close to the blackthorn bushes. “And the hanging baskets? I suppose ye like those too then.”
“I do,” I said, nodding vigorously. “You have the most lovely garden in Limbo City. Did you grow it all yourself?”
His cheeks flushed at the compliment, and I tried to hide my sigh of relief as he rested the foot of the staff on the ground. “Most of it. I hired a girl to fetch me supplies. She built the wall too. Me old bones aren’t cut out for such things.”
“Did this girl have a name?” I asked. “I might like to hire her myself,” I added when his eyes turned suspicious again.
“Sorry, lass. We kept our names and instead exchanged labor for goods and a place to rest until her work was done. She looked a lot like yourself.” His eyes softened thoughtfully. “I’ve not seen her in some months now.”
“That’s a shame. I suppose I’ll have to find someone else to help with my garden.”
He nodded sadly. “I’d volunteer, but I don’t stray far from home.” His eyes migrated over my shoulder and toward the blackthorn hedge, and I finally put my finger on his species. Lunantisidhe, guardians of the crone’s sacred tree.
“I should really be on my way.” I pointed at my shopping bag sitting near his feet. “Do you mind if I—?”
He glanced down and looped his staff through the handles of the bag, handing it to me from a safe distance. His mistrust had been muted, but certainly not eradicated.
“Thanks,” I said, giving him a small wave as I took the bag and slipped away, circling the building again and jaywalking across the intersection to get to Holly House more quickly.
I still didn’t know where Tasha was. But now I knew where she’d been, and it was a little too close to home for my liking.
Chapter 14
“Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty.” —Stephen King
I busied myself at the condo as I waited for the others to arrive. I brewed more coffee and fed the hounds. Then I ordered a pizza. My bowl of tomato soup had been forgotten in the microwave, an unappealing film forming over the surface. Now I was really starving, even when recalling the image of Nik and his chicken.
Bub was the first to return after me, and I wasn’t at all surprised.
“Anything?” I asked before he’d even closed the front door.
He gave me a dejected sigh and tossed a shopping bag on the table. “A Hawaiian shirt that smells like it was peeled off a man who died in a public restroom.” Then he dug the receipt I’d found out of one pocket and the new one he’d just acquired out of his other, holding them side by side for me to see. “I’m afraid it was all for nothing.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Hold up.” I found my shopping bag from the Little Folk Shoppe and dug out my receipt for the incense. It was a perfect match, and I was willing to bet that the phone number scrawled on the back was to the store as well.
“That’s one mystery solved at least. Did you learn anything else while you were there?” Bub asked.
“Tasha apparently did some work on the back garden in exchange for food and a place to sleep for a few nights. Almost got myself brained over that tidbit of info.”
“You’re sure it was Tasha? Wait—I thought you said you knew the owner.” Bub gasped in horror. “You naughty girl. You sent me to that store on purpose. The stench of mothballs and mildew is still clinging to me like rancid cologne.” He pinched the shoulders of his dress shirt and shook it in my direction to prove his point.
I cringed apologetically and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I still love you, no matter what you smell like.”
The doorbell rang and I turned to answer it. My stomach grumbled, happily anticipating the pizza guy, but it was just Abe. One of his cheeks was smeared with something sticky and white. I made a face and pointed.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rubbing his jaw against his sleeve. “I was assaulted with a sticky bun at the café.”
“Mmhmm. I hope you found out something useful during snack time.”
Abe glared at me. “One of Maggie’s waitresses plays softball on the seraph league. She’s one hell of a pitcher, and she didn’t care much for my snooping,” he added when I gave him a confused look. “But I think I know why the café might be appealing to a rebel.” He handed me a photocopy of the café’s employee schedule.
“What’s this for?” I asked, not recognizing any of the names penciled in on the calendar.
Abe tapped a sticky finger on the page, leaving a dot of frosting behind. “Maggie’s got a blind cherub working for her. Bet he can’t tell a reaper from a troll.”
That meant Tasha might still be using the café during the cherub’s shifts. My pulse da
nced excitedly.
“Good work.” I patted Abe on the back and folded up the schedule, tucking it down in my messenger bag for safekeeping. “Did you find anything at the market?”
Abe’s pride flat-lined. “Sorry, with so many of the booths shut down, it was hard to accomplish much. Some of the vendors have bespelled security systems. One of the dock guards is still laid up at Meng’s after getting a faceful of brimstone-shot for investigating a noise coming from one of the tents about a week ago.”
I laughed dryly. “Bespelled security system? That sounds more like a booby-trap. Whose tent did it come from?”
Abe shrugged and rubbed at his cheek again. “Don’t know. The guard’s partner found him in the middle of the street and called for backup. Took two days for him to even remember his own name. We checked all the tents the next morning when the vendors arrived, but nothing turned up and no one claimed responsibility.”
Bub and I exchanged a look, and then we both twisted our necks around to look at Saul curled up on the living room rug. The hound could track a week old scent through hell and a den full of sweaty demons—and he had. Jenni could vouch for that. I wondered if he’d be able to sniff out the brimstone remnants after all the rain we’d had. It was worth a shot.
The doorbell rang again, and my stomach growled with less cheer this time, demanding to be fed. The smell of garlic and melty cheese filled the condo as I opened the door. The delivery guy was a saint—literally—though one of the minor ones who had relocated to the city with visions of grandeur. Pizza delivery probably hadn’t been part of his initial plan, but the lure of the city often found newcomers working part-time shit jobs to make ends meet.
I handed him a hefty coin and snatched the box, my hunger so intense that I almost slammed the door in his face. I impressed myself by waiting the few seconds until he’d turned to leave. Then I dropped the box on the table and flipped the lid back, snagging up a wedge loaded with all the fixings and taking a bite before the cheese even had a chance to separate from the rest of the pizza.
Ghost Market (Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc. Book 6) Page 10