Burnt Silver

by H A Titus

  "I saw a couple of humans kill the redcap. The way they talked made me think that they were the ones who'd hired it."

  I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. I stepped back, clasping the back of my neck with both hands. "What? But … but that thing was sent after me! Why would humans be trying to hurt me?"

  Roe grasped my arms. "Josh. We're working on it. Eliaster and Cormac are both trying to figure out what's going on. Why don't you get some sleep? I think you need it?"

  "I'm not gonna be able to sleep!"

  Despite my protestations, Roe led me into the kitchen, where she pressed tablets of a sleep aid into my hand and talked me into swallowing them. I still didn't think I would be able to sleep, but I was wrong. As soon as I was upstairs and in a bedroom, I could feel my eyelids growing heavy. I crashed on the bed and instantly fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 24

  JOSH

  I couldn't remember my dreams the next morning, but I woke up with the sheets tangled around my legs, my pulse thundering in my ears.

  Whatever it had been, I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

  I eased myself out of bed and winced as my arm cramped. Blood had soaked through the bandages, leaving tiny droplets splattered across a portion of the bedsheet. I dragged myself to the bathroom, showered, and wrapped the bites as well as I could after slathering them with an antibacterial ointment that smelled like lavender and rosemary. All I could be thankful for was that there was no sign of infection.

  I checked my phone as I walked out into my room. I'd texted my mom last night before I'd fallen asleep, but hadn't been able to stay awake long enough for a reply. There was one now, and the timestamp showed it had been sent a little bit ago. The buzz of the phone was what had probably awakened me in the first place.

  We'll miss you, the text read. Have a good trip!

  That's right. I'd texted her that I'd had to take off on another sudden business trip. I felt a quick pang in my chest. I'd never been super close to my family, but I loved them and lying felt wrong. But it was better. Maybe disappearing altogether would be better too.

  As I left my room, my phone rang. I glanced down and recognized Simon Black's number. "Yeah?"

  "If you're interested, we're going up to Saint Louis today to speak with Henry," Simon said, his voice crackling through the speaker.

  I paused. "That quick?"

  I could practically hear his shrug over the speakers. "You presented compelling evidence, and I've spoken to Lord Keelin as well. At this point, call me a skeptical believer of your story."

  "You didn't tell Keelin that we met, did you?"

  "No. Told him I got my tip from a confidential source. Whether he believes me or not is up to him."

  "Well, at least it will take more work for him to pin it on me. Thanks."

  "Sure thing."

  I pocketed my phone and jogged down the stairs to the foyer. No one was around, but I could smell eggs and bacon and followed the scent. It let me through the dining room to the kitchen, where Lukas stood at the gas range stove in the decent-sized kitchen, stirring a sizzling pan of scrambled eggs. Another of Cormac's security, a scrawny fae with a rifle propped next to his chair, sat at the table with a book in front of his face, squinting through round glasses at the words on the page. What was his name? Jim … no, but it had started with a J … Jay. Yeah, Jay.

  Lukas glanced up at my footsteps. He focused on the bandages on my arm, then nodded. "Heard what happened."

  "Is this going to be another lecture about how humans don't belong in the Underworld and I should get out while I can?" I asked.

  He dumped the eggs on a plate, added a couple of strips of bacon from another pan on the back of the stove, and slid it across the counter to me. "Nah. At this point you've made your choice and stuck by it. What we need to focus on now is keeping you alive." He pointed at my arm. "How's that feeling?"

  "I can hardly move it."

  He nodded. "Not surprising. Get food in your stomach so you can take some painkillers."

  I blinked, surprised. While abrupt, his tone no longer had the biting snark I'd become accustomed to from him. I started eating, wincing. Any movement sent throbs of pain up my forearm and bicep. As I finished, Eliaster wandered into the kitchen, looking less than half-awake. He went straight to the coffeepot, found the biggest mug that had been set out on the counter and filled it to the brim.

  "Eliaster," I said.

  He glanced over at me, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

  "Seven AM," Lukas answered. "You want food?"

  Eliaster blinked slowly, staring into his coffee cup. "Uh … sure. Wow, I actually slept for eight hours last night. That's weird."

  A scene from my dreams flashed into my mind. Dusk. Pouring rain. Lightning flashed, revealing Eliaster's bloodied face.

  My elbow cracked into the counter. My hand twitched, and my fork clattered to the ground.

  "You okay?" Jay dropped his feet off the table.

  "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." I leaned down and grabbed my fork. What else had I seen in my dream? I tried to search back. Tried to pull the memory from my mind. But it was gone now.

  Eliaster gestured for me to hand it to him. "You sure you're okay? What happened?"

  I shrugged, held up my injured arm. "This hurts."

  He nodded. "Let me take a look at it, make sure there are no signs of infection."

  I unwrapped the bandages and let Eliaster examine the wounds. Lukas offered me another fork, but I shook my head. Really didn't feel like eating as Eliaster poked and prodded at my arm.

  "Simon said they're going to talk to Henry Blair today," I said quietly.

  Eliaster looked over at me, eyes wide. "Seriously?"

  "Yeah."

  "Cíorru air. We've gotta go, Josh. If they confront Henry on their own and he tries to get away…"

  I nodded. He didn't need to finish. The Blacks and Henry were all curators, but it was a sure bet that if Henry could use relics, he'd have some stashed away.

  "You're sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong," Lukas muttered. "And this time, I'm talking to you, Eliaster."

  Eliaster looked over at me, worry flashing in his eyes. "Do you think they'll take it that way?"

  Was he deferring to me? I scratched the back of my neck. "I don't know. Zeke wasn't very flattering of you yesterday, but Simon said nothing about you this morning."

  I could see Eliaster struggling to remain quiet, to let me make the decision on my own. The fact that he even wanted my opinion showed how he was trying to change after what had happened with Shaughnessy. Trusting me more. Knowing I could handle myself.

  Except that this time, I actually couldn't. I held up my injured arm and wiggled my fingers. "I guess I might need some dumb muscle around this time."

  Eliaster smirked. "When you can actually defend yourself, you're gonna pay for that comment."

  "Sure, tough guy." I got up and headed for the door. "Sure."

  # # #

  Four hours later, we still didn't have a plan.

  We met Simon and Zeke in the parking lot of a nice apartment complex near the downtown area of St. Louis. As we got out of the car, Simon came over to us, frowning at Eliaster.

  "You're not coming in with us," he said.

  Eliaster held his hands up, starting to protest.

  "Ah-ah, ah. Don't bother. You're not going in." Simon held up two fingers. "One, because if Henry sees you and recognizes you, we'll have essentially announced that something weird is going on and he's going to immediately be on his guard. Two, you're still not trustworthy."

  Eliaster took a step back, hands still up. "Do you hear me arguing? Look, I'll stay out here and keep an eye out, make sure he doesn't get too far if he gets past you guys."

  "He shouldn't even be here at all," Zeke muttered under his breath. He gave me a glare. "Why'd you let him tag along?"

  Eliaster snapped his fingers. "Hey, I am standing here. You can address your questions to me, you know. I promise I
won't take your head off. And to answer, I wouldn't let him come by himself."

  Simon sighed, then said, "I'll admit, having someone guard the outside isn't a bad idea. Just try not to get involved."

  "I swear I'll stay out of it if I can."

  "Good enough. C'mon." Simon jerked his head at me, then turned on his heel and started toward the building. I fell in step behind him, Zeke walking after me.

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  Eliaster leaned against the trunk of his car, arms crossed, watching us walk away. He caught my worried glance and smirked, then gave me a thumbs-up. "You'll be fine," he mouthed.

  Geez, I sure hoped so.

  The door of the apartment building didn't have a doorman, but instead it had one of those old-fashioned buzzer systems. Not something I expected to find at a place this fancy. Simon pressed one of the many doorbell buttons, and a few seconds later I heard the front door click open. I followed him and Zeke across a small, posh lobby to an elevator. The elevator doors dinged shut behind us.

  Zeke turned to me. "The fae still have you on a leash?"

  I glared at him. "I think I already answered that question last night."

  He glared back. "Then why's he here?"

  "Because he's my friend, and I trust him to watch our backs." I straightened, trying to find another inch or so. "You don't seem to get it yet, but a confrontation with this guy could be life-threatening. I'm injured." I pulled my sleeve back to show him the bandages on my arm. "I want someone here who has pulled me out of the fire before."

  Simon planted his hand on Zeke's chest, pushing him away from me. "That's enough. We need to present a united front to Henry."

  Zeke settled back against the back wall of the elevator, arms crossed, glaring at the doors.

  I took a deep breath. My hands trembled and I shoved them into my jacket pockets. The movement made my arm ache, and I bit back a wince, wishing that they'd let Eliaster come in with us. I was going to be slower than usual if I needed to go for my weapons with this injury.

  The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open into a thickly carpeted hallway, which was painted a generic white. Mirrors or framed prints hung in the empty spaces on the walls. Simon led us a few doors to the right from the elevator and knocked.

  Almost instantly, I heard the scrape of a bolt sounding from inside, and the door cracked open. A short, slim man with curly blond-gray hair appeared in the doorway, wearing square reading glasses on the end of his nose. "Ah, Simon. I didn't expect you so soon after your phone call."

  Glamour slipped away from his face, revealing a fae with bright gray eyes. At least his hair and facial shape were close to the man he'd been masquerading as, but the pointed ears were unmistakable.

  Simon smiled. "Well, we were already in the neighborhood—figured it wouldn't hurt to stop and check in."

  I shot a glance at Simon and Zeke. Both of them smiled warmly at Henry. Utterly oblivious. I cursed under my breath.

  Henry shot a curious glance at me. "You're new." His voice trailed off, and he squinted suspiciously.

  As Simon and Zeke walked into the apartment, I stepped up and held out my hand. "Yeah, I'm … Rogers. Steve Rogers." Please, please let him be as clueless about pop culture as Eliaster is.

  No flicker of recognition lit his eyes, no micro-expression of worry crossed his face. He merely smiled and shook my hand, then waved me in. It made my skin crawl to let him walk behind me, but I did, trying to keep my shoulders loose and relaxed.

  The narrow hallway opened up into a living and dining area combined. The kitchen was separated only by a long kitchen island, the gray stone slab on top polished, but covered in stacks of folders and a basket containing odds and ends—various electronic charging cables, a few receipts, a couple of carved rocks. There was a square of black leather couches in the living room, one end closed off by a fireplace with large picture windows showing the St. Louis skyline on either side. A thick, gray area rug covered most of the living area. White tile floored the rest of the apartment.

  Henry gestured to the couches. "Please, sit. Does anyone want a drink? Simon, let me run and get some of my other folders. A few things have recently come to my attention that I think will interest you."

  "Sure, sure," Simon said.

  Zeke walked over and set his bag on the stone-topped coffee table.

  I stayed on my feet, looking around the room again carefully.

  Henry shot me a concerned look.

  I shrugged. "Long hours in the car. I'd rather stretch my legs for a bit, if you don't mind." I pointed to the stone figurines on either side of the fireplace mantel. "Celtic house gods?"

  Henry nodded, a relaxed smile appearing on his face. "Non-relics, as you can imagine. Just little trinkets I picked up on a trip to Ireland once. They're not worth much, and not hard to find in our line of work."

  "Mind if I look at them? Just professional curiosity."

  "Oh, please feel free. Just try not to handle them very much. They're not relics, but they are old."

  I nodded and walked over to the fireplace, pretending to study the figurine on the right. In reality, it had been a lucky guess that they were Celtic house gods. I didn't want to just go on Henry's word that they were harmless. I leaned close, pretending to study the little figurine from an angle, and watched Henry from the corner of my eye. So far, so good …Whoever this guy was, he didn't seem to realize that I'd seen past his glamour.

  Ice clinked into glasses, and he poured a measure of something from a bottle into each drink. Henry set two on the coffee table's smooth stone surface and slid them over to me and Zeke, then handed one to Simon.

  Simon nodded to him and walked around the square of furniture to stand by my side, squinting at the stone figurine on the mantel for a moment. I watched as his dark eyes flicked quickly over the piece, searching for—I guessed—ogham, just as I had.

  His eyes met mine in a brief acknowledgment, and then he turned back to Henry. "You said you had some new things to show me?"

  "Oh, right." Henry set his glass down. It chinked gently as it met the coffee table. He went to the hallway across the living room and disappeared into one of the open doorways.

  I removed my backpack from my shoulder and set it on the end of the couch farthest from the chair Henry seemed to have claimed, but decided to stay on my feet. Zeke reached forward and picked up his drink, took a sip. I raised my eyebrows, watching as Simon unconsciously mirrored his son by taking a sip from his own glass.

  Maybe I was picking up Eliaster's paranoia, but drinking from glasses that had been out of sight seemed like a really bad idea.

  "Did you watch him make that?" I whispered under my breath to Simon.

  He rolled his eyes. "Dear lord, not you too. How long have you known Eliaster?"

  "Five months. But listen—"

  Simon's eyebrows shot up. "And he's already got you this paranoid?" He shook his head. "Kid, you've gotta—"

  "He's not human," I hissed. "He's sidhè. My guess is fae, but—"

  Zeke started at me like I was certifiable. "Are you nuts? There's no way you can tell."

  A hard knot formed in my stomach. "What?" No, no, no. That wasn't right. Humans could see through glamour if they spent enough time around fae, right? Like I had. Surely curators …

  Henry stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him, and Simon straightened. The blond curator carried a small wooden box to the coffee table and set it down. Simon sat down beside Zeke and reached forward, bringing the box in front of him. The two pulled on thin leather gloves and Simon carefully opened the box. Thankfully he didn't look at me—I was pretty sure he would've been able to tell something was up.

  I walked around to the back of the sofa as Simon eased a thick golden pendant on a chain from the box. The entire surface of the pedant was covered in ogham, faintly carved and barely visible in the dull surface.

  "Fascinating," Simon muttered, angling the pendant back and forth. "Blessings, good fortune,
multiple well-wishes … this almost seems like it's a lucky charm of some kind."

  "Irish and it's a luck charm. Ain't that ironic," Zeke muttered.

  The wounds on my arm itched, and I resisted the urge to scratch at them. When was Simon going to confront Henry like he'd promised? As the curators chatted about the pendant, I found my eyes wandering over the apartment again, searching as hard as I could for something that would give me a clue to Henry's boss. Something to prove to the curators that Henry was a traitor.

  Anything.

  I looked at Henry's face as he leaned over the coffee table. One gloved hand stayed clenched in a fist, his other hand tracing a line of ogham as he and Simon muttered about the meaning of a particular word. My dad did the same thing—when he put weight on his wrists like that, he balled his hands. If the guy was guilty, he was playing it cool. He didn't look the slightest bit nervous. As Henry straightened, he didn't uncurl his fist—rather, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his cardigan.

  Simon put the pendant away, closed the box, and looked up at Henry. "Anything else?"

  Henry shook his head. "You're looking at seven months of work, just tracking down that one thing. It was well-hidden. Relics are getting hard to find."

  "Interesting. Because I've been told that you've been working for someone else."

  Henry froze in the act of reaching for his drink. He looked up, hesitantly, eyebrows raised and stared at Simon in surprise. "You what? Simon, are you …" His gaze drifted up from Simon to me, and his expression darkened. "You're trusting someone else over me?" He stood up. His hand was still in his pocket.

  I gripped the back of Simon's chair. They still thought he was human. Crap, crap, crap.

  Simon stood up as well. "They have witnesses and evidence, Henry. More than I can dismiss."

  "From who? Other curators? Fae? Him?" He gestured at me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zeke's hand ease toward his side.

  Henry saw it too, and in his eyes I saw a quick flash of decision. He lunged.

  I grabbed Zeke's shirt and shoved him forward, nearly throwing him out of the chair. Henry's hand slapped into the side of my neck, and I felt a pulse of cold and pain radiate up into the side of my head. I jerked back, gritting my teeth, and pressed my hand to my neck. When I pulled it away, a trail of glimmering gray dust followed it. As my neck stiffened, I watched the dust sink into the skin of my palm, turning it an ashen gray. Henry turned, a small disk that glowed with a fiery light in his hand. He reached for Simon.