Burnt Silver

by H A Titus

  I shivered and flexed my right hand, wincing as a twinge—the first feeling I'd had in my fingers for months—shot through my hand. I slid my thumb between the folds of the paper and flipped it open.

  Meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow, 10 AM. No tricks, no traps.

  "You okay?" Angel asked.

  I shoved the paper in my pocket and glanced up at him. He was watching me out of narrowed eyes, interest showing in the flickers of gold at the edges of his dark irises. Of course he hadn't asked out concern. He was trying to figure out an angle, as always.

  "I'm fine, thanks."

  His eyes narrowed even more. "If you're hiding something from Eliaster—"

  "Hope you've changed the passcode to your garage, Angel," I said, grinning. "Although I figured it out last time, so I'm not sure how much good it'll do anyway."

  The muscles in his jaw bunched, and he spun on his heel and walked away. I watched him disappear into the crowd of the Market, my stomach churning a little from all the fae and the glamour swirling around me.

  Some days, I thought I'd taken to the Underworld just a little too well.

  CHAPTER 2

  ELIASTER

  I parked my motorcycle in an abandoned lot and walked the last two blocks to the ramshackle buildings in the outskirts of the Underworld. It had been a while since I'd visited Blaise, an older goblin who mostly kept to himself, but still somehow knew all the shady happenings in the area.

  I skirted around a barrel with an open flame, then eyed the wooden buildings that leaned forward over the street. The entire slum area of the Underworld was a medieval wreck. One spark and the entire collection of greasy wooden buildings would go up in ashes. I lifted my head, sniffed, and cringed as I caught a whiff of the nearby sewer system.

  Thankfully, not that many people lived in this area any more.

  I walked up rickety steps to the second floor of a building that tipped precariously to one side, and gently rapped on the door. "Blaise?"

  Nothing.

  I leaned to the side and tried to see in the one tiny window, but the usual tattered blanket was tacked in front of it. As I moved, I caught a whiff of a heavy, almost-sweet smell. My throat clenched. Something was rotting. Had he abandoned the place and left it full of garbage?

  I rattled the door, and the entire structure shook in response. I eased away and gnawed on the inside of my cheek. Kicking the door down might very well bring the entire building down on top of me. Man, I should've brought Josh with me. Even when he'd been essentially useless, he'd been able to pick locks.

  I grabbed the doorknob again and gently jiggled it up and down, hoping the wood was loose enough that I could slip the bolt free. "C'mon, Blaise, open up! It's Eliaster."

  With a ka-thunk, the lock slipped, and I pushed open the door. It thumped into something and would only open halfway. My skin prickled. I gripped the sword at my side and eased partially into the room. Something reeked.

  The inside of the single-room apartment was sparse, just a bed and a ratty camp chair with a single-burner camp stove on a metal box in front of it. A large storage shelf stood to one side of the bed, stuffed full of books, and a crate at the foot of the bed had spilled, scattering a tangle of grayish clothing and blankets across the floor. There was a stack of tinned foods in the corner behind the camp chair, and another pile of empty cans in the other corner.

  I stepped fully inside the room and let the door swing shut behind me. Something bumped into my shoulder and I spun, heart hammering. Blaise's bloated face met mine, skin a dark purple, tongue hanging from his mouth, eyes black sockets. I gasped and backed up. The stench hit me full force and made me gag.

  Blaise's body swung from the rafters of the room, a rope around his neck. I hunched my shoulders and pressed my fist to my mouth, forcing bile back down my throat. I pulled my flashlight from my pocket and clicked it on. The beam shook as I played it over the goblin's body. Lividity had settled the blood at the goblin's feet. He'd been hanging there for a while. A long while. My shoulders sagged, and I stepped back, feeling a burn in the corners of my eyes.

  I turned the flashlight beam to the goblin's face. Metal coins flashed in the light. That explained why I'd thought his eyes had been gouged out at first. I stepped closer. Dark metal disks, stamped with a half indistinguishable ogham, had been wedged into the goblin's eye sockets. I gritted my teeth and reached out, trying to pry one free. The metal seared my fingers and I jerked back, hissing in pain.

  Iron.

  Whoever had done this was one sick bastard.

  Using the edges of my fingernails, I picked the coins free, wrapped them in a scrap I tore from the blanket on the bed, and stuffed the bundle into my pocket. Josh or Roe could look at them later.

  My phone buzzed, and I retrieved it from my pocket. One missed call from Josh.

  Met with the informant. Are you coming back to the rath soon?

  I sent him a quick confirmation and looked around the room, feeling sick to my stomach, and not just from the smell. Blaise had never been a dear friend, but the old goblin had been helpful, always giving me enough hints that Angel and I could keep tabs on the Lucht Leanuna's movements.

  Who could've killed him? Llew? It didn't feel like the Unseelie's style. Phantom pain flashed through my shoulders, and my right fingers spasmed into a fist. There were no signs of torture, no broken fingers or cuts riddling the goblin's body. Llew liked breaking fingers, and he had a sickening attachment to knives. Besides, Llew would've made it obvious. And I couldn't feel any of the stomach-churning unease I got at the slightest hint of Larae's dark glamour.

  Neither of them would've dared to debase a fellow sidhé's body by shoving iron coins into the eyes. Blaise had been hung, plain and simple. Judging by the state the apartment was in, maybe there had been a bit of a struggle first, but it was hard to tell.

  I lifted my head, held quiet and still for a moment.

  Great. The last thing I need is an unknown enemy out there, gunning for my informants.

  Why had Blaise been killed? I walked to the shelf of books and ran my fingers down the stack of paperback spines, more for something to do. Anything to do. The paperbacks were squeezed in tight, no indication that anything had been hidden in them recently. Besides, everything Blaise had ever given me had been verbal. The goblin had been paranoid … for good reason, it seemed.

  I stepped out of the house and crouched on the rickety little balcony, leaning my back against the unsteady wall, hands covering my mouth. I didn't even know who Blaise's next of kin had been. I squeezed my eyes shut, then just as quickly opened them again. Blaise's body had been cold, but there was no telling if someone was watching the place. I didn't need to make myself an easy target.

  I stood and walked down the steps, reaching into my pocket for my cell phone. I'd have to let Da know. He could send someone to deal with the body. I glanced up again at the door, then lowered my head and trudged back through the slums to where I'd left my bike, my chest tight. Blaise hadn't deserved that. No matter how evil, no sidhé deserved iron in the eyes.

  CHAPTER 3

  JOSH

  I skirted the outside edge of the Underworld city, passing through a neighborhood that consisted of falling-apart shops and the remnants of a once-grand Victorian home, before hitting the rich section of the town. Mansions dotted the expanse of green grass-like moss, all looking pale and washed out under the orange light. For the life of me, I could never figure out why the rich fae wanted to live down here. I guess they liked the mystique and elusive aesthetic. It was atmospheric, I'd give them that, but I'd trade it for a house in the sun any day.

  I pulled up at the wrought-iron gate of Cormac Tyrone's rath. From the outside, it looked like your typical Tudor mansion, but when I glanced up at the roof, I spotted the sniper, hunkered down beside the false chimney, rifle trained on me.

  I grinned and lifted my fingers from the bike in a half-wave.

  The gate buzzed and swung open enough to allow me to pull
through. I motored up the gravel drive and stopped at the foot of the front steps.

  The front door opened and Lukas, Cormac's head of security, stepped out. No matter how many times I met the fae, my stomach still clenched a little. I gritted my teeth.

  "Joshua," Lukas said evenly, staring at me.

  I returned the stare, all the while willing my breakfast to remain in my stomach. Some fae affected me more than others—Eliaster compared it to a fight-or-flight instinct that kept most humans away from the sidhé and out of danger. With some fae, like Eliaster, the sensation had faded the more time I spent around them, until I could barely feel it. Maybe I just hadn't been around Lukas enough.

  Or maybe he really did pose a threat to me.

  "I didn't know you planned to come today."

  I pulled my helmet over my head, hearing a crackle as static pulled my already-crazy hair skyward. "Hadn't planned on it, but you know how plans tend to change." I offered a smile.

  Lukas did not smile back as I jogged up the steps, leaving my helmet on my bike seat. For a moment, I didn't think he was going to let me in. Then he stepped aside, holding the door open. As I brushed past him, his hand darted to my side, snatching the pistol away.

  "Hey!" I spun to face him again, but didn't grab for the gun.

  Lukas examined it, thumbing the safety on and off and releasing the clip. He snorted at the caliber. "This wouldn't stop a troll or a rager."

  "Well, hopefully I won't run into too many of those." I held my hand out.

  He ignored it.

  "Give it back to him, Lukas," came Cormac's voice from the side of the foyer.

  I raised my head. Eliaster's dad stood at the library door, hands clasped behind his back, his green eyes narrowed at Lukas. Lukas shrugged and extended his hand toward me, the gun clutched loosely in his fist. I grabbed it.

  Lukas gave me one last dirty look and walked further into the house.

  "Please come in, Josh." Cormac stood to the side of the door, gesturing inside the library.

  I walked past him, placing the gun on a side table near the library door, and entered the library. The last time I'd been here, the place had looked neat and precise, like I'd always imagined the Diogenes Club would be. Rather than the neat configuration of chairs and tables this time however, some of the furniture had been shoved to the side, making room for a new desk and several cardboard boxes, each stamped with the logo of a popular computer company.

  Cormac said something to Lukas in a low tone that I didn't quite catch. I rubbed the back of my neck. I'd expected to find Eliaster here. Having Cormac greet me instead was … uncomfortable.

  As Cormac closed the library door, I raised my eyebrows and nodded to the stacks of computer equipment, hoping a joke would crack the ice. "Hope you don't let Eliaster near this."

  Cormac chuckled, lines crinkling the corners of his eyes and betraying his age. "If Eliaster torches any of those computers, accidentally or not, I might just kick him out on his ear."

  Well, at least he and Eliaster shared a sense of humor.

  Cormac walked over to a cabinet housing a coffee machine and several types of liquor. "Drink?" he asked.

  "Just coffee, thanks."

  He nodded and pulled a single-serve pod from one of the drawers. The coffee machine burbled to life, filling the once again uncomfortable silence. Cormac was a bigwig in the fae Underworld, at least in Springfield. He hadn't spoken to me since we'd gotten back from retrieving the pathstone in Chicago. He hadn't even spoken to me at Marc's funeral. I'd gotten the impression that he thought his son had made a mistake in dragging me, a human—an Overworlder—into the sidhé world.

  So what did Lord Cormac Tyrone want from me now?

  He handed me a mug, then pulled another chair across the fireplace and sat down. The scene reminded of the first night I'd ever met any fae—only instead of the silver-haired, immaculate Blodheyr, it was Cormac I was speaking to. He blended perfectly with his surroundings in the library, his button-down shirt, tie, and slacks immaculate. The only incongruous thing was the stack of computer boxes in the background—and, of course, me.

  I sipped my coffee.

  "I was impressed by the work you did with those hard drives. It can't be easy to pull hidden information from them in the way you did," Cormac said.

  I shrugged. "It's not hard."

  "I also hear you can do some hacking."

  I felt my neck and face go warm. How had he found that out? I cleared my throat. "I'm not that good. Got caught each time. I'm better at the whole math angle."

  "Nevertheless, you have a much different skill-set than most people I know."

  The understatement of the year. While most fae glamour wasn't as extreme as Eliaster's—which caused him to fry most electronics he came in prolonged contact with—it still interfered enough to make tech difficult for fae to grasp.

  "I want you to work for me."

  It was a good thing I hadn't taken another drink, otherwise Cormac might have had it all over his face. I stared at him. "What? Why?"

  "Because the fight is far from over." Cormac rubbed his hands together. "Roe needs a research assistant, now that she's actively searching out the pathstones. And, like I said, you have a unique technological skill set no one else I employ does. The last time we ran into the Lucht, they were using a message board on the Internet—something no one had thought of until you came along. I know you promised Marc you'd help, but I also know that you can't do so pro bono. Therefore, my offer."

  Apparently, the two Tyrones had been talking to each other. Well, that was better than their relationships had been a few months ago, so, baby steps I guess. I blew out a deep, gentle breath. "So what you're saying is I'd basically be a glorified IT guy."

  Cormac's lips pursed. "I'm not familiar with the term."

  I took a sip of my coffee. Then I set it on the side table. "So what do you want hacked?"

  Cormac raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you'll want to negotiate terms and conditions, and then actually accept the job, before you ask that question."

  Oh. Right. I rubbed the back of my neck. Stupid fae and their stupid word games.

  Cormac set his cup to the side. "It's not even a guarantee you'll need to hack anything. But I want someone who has the ability to keep track of online activities that might be related to the Lucht Leanuna. Before you discovered their forum, I didn't have any idea something like that could have existed." He smiled wryly. "Maybe I should have listened a little to my son." He glanced up at me, eyebrows raised. "Is that something you'll be able to do?"

  I paused, working it out in my head, then nodded. "I should be able to find or write some webcrawler programs that could—"

  He held a hand up. "No need to explain it to me. I couldn't understand anyway." He glanced at the door. "I believe Roe had planned to stop by here this afternoon, so you could talk to her, see what kind of help she needs."

  "Actually, sir …" I tugged the piece of paper the fortune-teller had given me out of my pocket and handed it to him. "That came through an informant today."

  His eyes flicked over the paper and he nodded. "Did the informant mention what this was in relation to?"

  "She hinted that her employer knew where a pathstone could be found."

  "Excellent." He handed the paper back to me. "Well done. I'll be in my office if you need anything."

  I nodded, even though his praise felt unearned. I hadn't done anything but talk to Maira. And he probably wouldn't be too thrilled when he learned where the information had come from.

  I pulled out my phone and sent Eliaster a text. Need to talk. Are you home?

  A few minutes later, his reply came in. Be there in five.

  Well, I could get started on the computer in the meantime. I pulled the top box off the stack and slit the tape open with my keys. Mostly, I just wanted to see what Cormac had given me to work with.

  After a few minutes, I heard the sound of a motor outside. I closed the lid of the box and headed out
side, grabbing my gun on the way. I nearly took Lukas's head off as I swung open the front door. He spun around, scowling at me.

  "Why are you still out here?" I asked.

  His scowl deepened. "None of your beeswax."

  Dude, what is your problem? I bit back the words. Right now, I really didn't feel like getting into a confrontation with him. "Where's Eliaster?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "What are you, the bouncer? Where is he?"

  Lukas sighed. "He just pulled around to the workshop. Should I show you there?"

  "Nah, you've got more important things to do than play butler, I'm sure."

  The fae glared at me, but I just gave him my most innocent smile as I walked out the front door. The workshop was attached to the garage, but mostly hidden around the corner of the house. As I got closer, I heard the faint sounds of some classic rock song playing in the building.

  I pushed open the side door.

  Eliaster already sat at the worktable that ran along the back wall, tightening a bolt on some piece of engine sitting in a puddle of grease on the wooden surface. A pitted, rust-splotched motorcycle frame sat in the middle of the cracked, stained concrete floor, parts scattered around it. The bike's original color might have been red, but I couldn't tell for sure.

  As I got closer, I could hear Eliaster singing along under his breath. Something about not feeling something, or not fighting a feeling, whatever. Classic rock wasn't really my thing.

  I cleared my throat.

  He spun around, wrench half-raised. "Josh. Amadan, one of these days I'm gonna split your head open before I realize it's you." He hit pause on the mp3 player sitting on the table, and then grabbed a rag and started scrubbing his hands. "So what'd Maira have to say?"

  "She was just passing along a message. Said that if we were interested, we'd find evidence of relics in Illinois. And she gave me this." I held out the scrap of notepaper she'd handed me.

  Eliaster took it and glanced at the message. His scowl deepened. Eliaster straightened and stepped into the garage. His supercar's engine was still ticking, loud in the quiet, metal-sided building. He opened the passenger door and pulled out his backpack. "Did she say who this information was from?"