by Nova Nelson
“How do you think?” he said. “I found an investor.”
“An investor? And how much did that investor give you?”
He avoided my eyes as he mumbled, “Five hundred gold pieces.”
“What?!” I didn’t mean to shout in his face, but that was easily ten times what I’d been expecting. “What in the holy mother earth could you spend that kind of money on?” I looked around the room, but, nope, everything was still chintzy, and the floors were definitely not real gold.
He continued to avoid my eyes as his gaze roamed around the room. “Things. Some business, some personal.”
“And where,” I began, reining myself in again, “did this investor get that kind of money?”
He met my eyes then. “His family, I assume.”
The timing was too suspicious. I doubted even Veronica Lovelace had that kind of money lying around, let alone a desire to give it to a narcissist like Echo. Whoever this investor was, he or she would also be my prime suspect for the gold heist.
“Echo,” I said slowly. “Who is your investor?”
His nostrils flared minutely as he pressed his lips into a straight line. For a moment I thought he wasn’t going to tell me. Maybe he was scared to say. Maybe this investor was dangerous.
My mind jumped to Count Malavic.
But then, like he was spitting out poison, Echo said, “Seamus Shaw.”
“Seamus?” I tried to wrap my head around it. “But I’d heard he was banned from here. Why would he invest in your bar?”
It wasn’t that I thought Echo was lying, just that there were a lot of pieces that needed to be moved into place before I could make sense of this.
“Oh yes. He was banned. Super banned. After the way he behaved at the Winter Solstice Gala. I just— I can’t.” He shut his eyes and held up a hand, implying I should give him a moment to regroup. He opened his eyes again and rolled his shoulders back. “But who’s going to turn down five hundred gold pieces? Sheehan’s had closed down, and he needed a place to drink and cause trouble with that mangy werewolf friend of his. He asked me how much it would take, and somewhat jokingly, I’d rattled off ‘five hundred gold coins.’ But then he agreed to it, and I’m not going to turn down that much money! He was promptly un-banned after that.”
“Are the Shaws that wealthy?” I asked.
“Oh, they’re an old Eastwind family. Founded the Erin Park neighborhood with the Sheehan’s back in the day. I’ve always assumed they’re loaded, just like the Lovelaces, but you never know with leprechauns. Not ones to talk about money with others. Generally erring on the side of miser.”
“So you didn’t question it when Seamus handed over that much money.”
He laughed airily, bopping me playfully on the shoulder. “Oh, Nora dear. Only a fool would question a gift like that. No, I say when someone offers you enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life while managing two money-pit businesses, you don’t ask questions. You take the gift, let them have whatever they want, and go on your merry way, all the richer for it.”
It was clear that Echo and I had very different priorities and ideas about owing others, but I decided not to press the issue. Because it was also clear that I had gotten all I needed to from the satyr, and if I didn’t have to spend another five minutes in this Vegas version of Ancient Greece, I wouldn’t.
“Thanks for your time,” I said, standing. “Good luck with the business.”
He waved it off. “Good luck, bad luck. Doesn’t matter to me now! I’m set for life. Been thinking about shutting the place down, to be honest. This podunk town can’t appreciate a refined nightlife scene. Case in point, they voted melted cheese as the winner of the cook-off this year.” He rolled his eyes, spinning to kick up his hooves on the velvet bench again, now that I’d moved out of the way. “This does seem like a very melted-cheese town.” As he popped another olive into his mouth, I decided a proper farewell wasn’t necessary and left, heading back to Ruby’s for my tutoring session with Oliver.
As invigorating as the history of cryptozoology was (kidding, it was a snoozefest), my mind couldn’t detach itself from the conversation with Echo long enough to focus.
And Oliver was starting to notice. “I know the relevance of this isn’t apparent now,” he said, “but once we get to modern cryptozoology and the geopolitical climate of the Lucidite covens in the Dirthian Prairies, you’re going to wish you knew this part better.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Quick change of subject?”
He blinked rapidly. “Okay.”
“If you were mailed an anonymous package of five hundred gold pieces by someone in this town, who would you assume it was from? All motive aside. Maybe they had that kind of money to get rid of and spun a wheel to see who they’d send it to.”
I knew if I framed it as somewhat of a logic puzzle, my nerdy tutor would bite. “Well, my first thought would be Count Malavic. Then I might guess Veronica Lovelace. Then maybe Liberty Freeman.”
“Liberty Freeman? Really?”
“Well, he’s a genie. He can snap his fingers and gold appears.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “Why doesn’t he just do that for everyone then?”
Oliver spoke slowly, like the answer was just that obvious and I was just that thick. “Because that would cause inflation. Besides, no one is a bigger advocate for the value of hard work than Liberty.”
“Would Seamus Shaw not make it onto your list of possible anonymous benefactors?”
“Ha!” Oliver’s face brightened like I’d just told a clever joke. “Not exactly. Quinn might, but not Seamus. And not just because the louse would never in a million years give away that kind of money out of the goodness of his heart. No, Seamus doesn’t have any money other than the pittance his father gives him.”
That just about settled it. Just about. I had one more important bit of book smarts to draw from my tutor. “Can leprechauns do magic?”
He blinked rapidly, and I could tell a half-dozen questions were at the tip of his tongue, but instead of asking them, he replied. “Yes. Certain types.”
“Would a Guilt Gale be among those types?”
He scratched the stubble on his jaw and stared down at the table for a moment before glancing back at me. His unusually straight eyebrows pinched together above the bridge of his nose. “Yes. I believe I’ve heard of that being within their powers. They are masters at spells involving emotional manipulation, and their traditions of ancestor worship indicates that—”
All I’d needed was a simple yes. “Alright then. I’d better get going.” I slapped my thighs and stood.
“Wait, what are you doing? Are you leaving?”
“Yeah,” I said. “The discovery of the spark gene in phoenixes and how that led to the first categorization of firebirds is fascinating and all, but I have something I gotta check on.”
“Check on? What? Nora, where are you going?”
I shrugged. “Where else does a thirty-something go this late at night? I’m heading down to the pub.” I smiled at him and grabbed my wand from the drawer by the front door, tucking it into my waistband. Not that I knew how to use the thing for any sort of defensive spell, but it was better than not having it.
At the very least, it might come in handy for jabbing Seamus if he decided to get handsy.
14
I wasn’t sure how I would approach my conversation with Seamus, but I did know two things.
First, there was no way I was going to tell Tanner about where I was going and why. He would demand to come with me and I knew that wasn’t a good idea; he wouldn’t be able to handle Seamus’s sleaziness, which I knew would be a necessary part of this.
Second, Seamus ran with Lucent and a few other seedy werewolves, and the last thing I wanted was for him to figure out what I was up to. He may not resort to violence to keep his cover, but the others, who surely knew about the gold at best and were accomplices at worst, just might.
Bargaining with Grim to accompany
me as a security detail seemed more trouble than it was worth. He hated Sheehan’s Pub, which was where I was headed, because people always walked into him in the dim lighting when they were slightly intoxicated. Plus, the floors were always a little sticky, and as much as he enjoyed being dirty, sticky was not quite the same. I couldn’t blame him for that. I certainly wouldn’t want to lie down on those pub floors.
While there was a slight chance that Seamus wouldn’t be there when I arrived, there really kinda wasn’t. Unless he was sick or dead, he would be there, and by this time in the night, he would already be a half-dozen beers in. That should make this easy enough. If I could just get him talking faster than his mind could follow along, I might get lucky.
I pushed open the heavy wooden door and found the place practically dead. After the chaos of the previous night, everyone must have decided to take it easy at home. Or most everyone.
Seamus and Lucent and another man I didn’t know were seated in the corner, taking turns trying to flip copper coins into an empty stein.
If I was going to appear casual, I needed a drink in my hand. They might have seen me in here the night before without one, and two nights of popping in for reasons other than grabbing a drink was a little suspicious.
But as I turned toward the counter, I paused, spotting the silky, dark-chocolate hair of Donovan as he sat alone, hunched over the bar.
Great. Not a factor I wanted to deal with right now. But besides those already mentioned, there were only a handful of other Eastwinders sitting in booths or at tables, some getting in a bit of late-night reading, others talking in low tones with their drinking buddies. There was no way to avoid Donovan, is what I’m saying, so I decided to get it over with and address the issue head on.
I scooted onto the seat next to his and waved down Kelley Sullivan, the South Wind witch who was tending bar. He nodded and I ordered my usual. When I turned to Donovan, he was staring at me like I’d appeared out of thin air.
“I know, I know,” I said, “‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world,’ and I walk into yours.”
He blinked at me. “What the fang and claw are you talking about?”
“It’s … never mind.”
He stared down at his beer. “I can’t even begin to guess what you’re doing here alone at this time of night, and … I think I don’t want to.”
His resigned tone and heavy sigh indicated that I might have just crashed a pity party without meaning to. That was fine. I wouldn’t stay long.
“You absolutely don’t. So if you’ll just”—Kelley handed me the beer—“Thanks.” I slid two coppers onto the counter, but the bartender shook his head.
“Unless that’s tip,” Kelley replied, “there’s no need. Seamus picked up the tab for the evening.”
Good golem, could the leprechaun be any more obvious? It bordered on gauche, the way he tossed around his chunk of change like it could never run out. It was New Money Syndrome at its worst.
“That’s okay. Just let me pay for myself.” I fished out another copper coin from my pants pocket. “There. That can be your tip.”
Kelley nodded and took the money, though whether he was simply going to charge Seamus anyway and keep what I’d given him for tip or not, I couldn’t be sure. If he was smart, he would. Bills don’t pay themselves. Not even in Eastwind.
I turned back to Donovan and opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, he jumped in.
“Not even going to let the guy buy you a drink?”
“Who, Seamus? Hellhounds, no. Why would I? I have my own money.”
He shrugged. “So do I, but I’m not going to pass up a free drink. Especially not from someone like Seamus. It’s like he’s shelling out years’ worth of back-taxes on being a muck-up.”
“Right. Well, do what makes you feel good. In the meantime, please stay right where you are until I leave. I won’t burden you with the reason why I’m here alone if you promise not to interfere with anything I’m about to do.”
He shut his eyes slowly and kept them shut. “Now it makes sense. You’re about to do something really dumb, probably dangerous, too. That’s why Tanner isn’t with you.” Then he nodded and opened his eyes again. “Fine. If I’m supposed to sit here and do nothing when things inevitably go horribly wrong, I expect you to not mention to Tanner that I was here … assuming you live to tell him anything.”
“Deal. But you’re being dramatic. I’m in Sheehan’s. Everything will be fine.”
I flashed him a sarcastic grin and sauntered over to a table next to Seamus, Lucent, and their friend.
Approaching them directly would be too obvious, but I knew they weren’t the kind to let a woman sit at a bar alone without assuming she was there solely to be harassed. Because if a woman’s out in public on her own, she’s obviously only there to find a gentleman suitor, right?
That, or to catch a murderer, as the case may be.
Or, really, a million other things that are none of said gentleman suitor’s dang business.
I regretted not bringing a book to read. It seemed a little obvious, me just sitting there by myself with nothing to do, that something was up. But it didn’t take long before I heard a tinny voice say, “Where’s your pretty boyfriend?” from the table next to me.
Seamus.
“The two of ya didn’t get in a row, did you?”
I met his eyes … which were already slightly crossed from the alcohol. “No. He doesn’t know I’m here. I just needed a little space.” I forced a smile, even though everything in me, all those protective instincts women develop over time from instance after instance of a friendly smile being interpreted as an invitation to harass, was actively working against it.
“Ah, yes, that makes sense. He’s a little bit of a smotherer, that one. Why don’t ya join us for a bit of a laugh? No smothering. Promise.”
“Unless you want it,” muttered the man I didn’t recognize.
I laughed to play along and joined them at their high-top. There was an empty chair, but I didn’t sit. The plan that was starting to form in my mind didn’t include Lucent and this other creep. Lucent may be a drunk and an addict, but he had a few dozen IQ points on his best friend, who, I suspected, he kept around so he could look at him and think, At least I’m not that bad.
I suspected Seamus kept Lucent around for the same reason.
Either way, I needed to get Seamus alone if I was going to lure the truth out of him. How, though?
When the answer came to me, I downed my current drink as quickly as possible. I hardly ever drank—never had the time between work and lessons and my extracurricular activity of helping spirits cross over. Downing this beer in a hurry was risky. It was a strong one, which was my usual go-to because it meant one drink spread over the evening was plenty. And that meant that once I put it away, I would have about ten to fifteen minutes before it took effect and my judgment was blurred.
The other option was to drink it slowly and put up with their nonsense for a bit longer. That seemed like the wiser route until the man I didn’t know offered his hand to shake. “Slash,” he said. “Slash Scandrick. Lucent’s cousin.” Great. Another werewolf.
When we shook, he growled low and licked his lips. “Firm grip you got there. I could put a woman like you to work. Got all kinds of things I need gripped.”
And just like that, chugging my beer and working on an invisible timer was one hundred percent the better idea.
I tilted my cup back, ignoring the lewd comments that arose from that action, and then slammed the thing down on the wooden tabletop and smiled. “Who’s going to buy me my next?”
“I’m already buying for everyone in the bar. Go help yourself,” said Seamus.
I stared into my empty cup. “You know, I think I want to try something new. You’re a bit of a connoisseur, I’ve heard. Maybe you can help me pick a good one.” I nodded toward the bar and he didn’t hesitate to climb down from the tall chair and wobble over with me.
; “I’ve tasted every beer in Eastwind,” he said. “Even some that claimed to be beer but turned out to be something entirely foul. I can help ya find what you’re looking for.”
“You’re such a gentleman.”
His head jerked around to stare up at me, and I wondered briefly if anyone had ever called him that.
“Yeah,” he said. “Ya know what? I am. I’m a fanging gentleman!”
Okay. He liked that identity. Noted.
Kelley flashed me a dubious look when he saw who I was now sitting with. Four stools separated us from Donovan, and Kelley clearly seemed to think I’d picked the worse of the two choices for company.
I agreed with him, of course, but I wouldn’t let it show.
“You want something light or rich?” Seamus asked, wiping a sweaty strand of orange hair off his forehead.
“Light,” I said. “Not too hoppy.”
He nodded.
“What can I get you?” Kelley asked hesitantly.
“For the lady, why don’t we try a Dragon’s Hair Lager, and I’ll take another one of those Dark Wish Stouts.”
When Seamus whirled around to give me his full attention, Kelley mouthed, “Help?”
I shook my head minutely then focused on the leprechaun. “I heard about you buying drinks for the bar yesterday, too,” I said. “You’ve become quite the philanthropist, Seamus. Giving Count Malavic a little competition. I’m impressed.”
“Dah, it was nothing.”
“I didn’t realize you were so rich. I do like a rich man.” I giggled and wanted to slap myself at the sound.
Push through, Nora.
Then I made a huge mistake and glanced over Seamus’s head to where Donovan sat, his eyes reflecting the same level of disgust for me that I felt for me.
I cleared my throat. “I assume it’s your father’s money,” I said, “since you haven’t had a job in a while. Otherwise, it sure would raise a lot of questions about how you got your hands on it.”
His mouth hung open slightly as his bushy brows pinched together. I believe he meant to nod his head, but with the level of intoxication, he ended up rocking his whole body back and forth slowly.