by Ramy Vance
“And when Oighrig End turned up dead, your plan kind of fell apart,” I added.
“As you can imagine, the authorities discovering our plan would only accomplish two things. One, implicate us as murderers, and two, bring unwanted attention to Professor End’s unpublished book.”
I saw that. So it seemed this motley crew had good intentions. I looked around at Orange the elf and Sarah the halfling, Jack the giant and Freol, all of whom claimed to be Seelie Court members. But then there was Jarvis, and Snap, Crackle and Pop, who were obviously members of the UnSeelie Court.
And finally Remi the human, except I now had a feeling he wasn’t who he claimed to be.
“Thank you,” I said, “for telling the truth and letting me into your inner circle. I want to assure you that Deirdre and I agree with your motives. So can we agree to no more secrets?”
They nodded, but whether they meant it or not I couldn’t tell.
“Good. Remi …”
“Yes?”
“Your gloves, if you will.”
Remi hesitated. “I already told you, I have a rare skin condition which I am terribly—”
“—self-conscious about. I know. But you also agreed to no more secrets. If you don’t mind.” I held out my hands.
Remi looked around before shaking his head. “You are a clever girl,” he said, peeling off his gloves. “And what you are about to see will implicate me as the murderer, but I assure you I am not the murderer.”
He took off his gloves and showed me two human-looking hands covered in dry green, blue, yellow and red blood.
I sucked in a breath. “You’re a ly erg,” I said. “I’ve heard of your kind, but never met one of you before. You’re a fae soldier of the UnSeelie Court. Your kind is indistinguishable from human beings except for one strange trait: your hands become stained with the blood of anyone you’ve slain, like the handsy version of Redcap. Also kind of makes sense now that you’d call me ‘young lady.’ You’re probably older than most mountains.”
“I was a relatively young creation. Ten thousand years or so by human standards.” Remi shrugged. “And as for me and Redcap, I personally would never compare myself to that goblin, but yes, we are both stained by those we kill. Him by his scalp, and me by my hands.” Remi held his hands up before me. “See that green stain? Troll blood. One of those nasty fellows attacked me while on patrol before the gods left.
“This yellow”—he pointed at the upper joint of his thumb, which was a bright, lemon yellow—“a valkyrie who thought she could enter the UnSeelie Court to steal the Bone Flutes fashioned from Beowulf skeleton. She killed two trolls trying to retrieve her coveted prize. I showed her that thieves and murderers would not be tolerated on my watch, and thus my thumb shall forever be the color of her blood. In fact, all these stains are in the service of my home, my gods, my king. And all before the gods left. Except this.” He pointed at the lifeline on his right palm. It was stained red.
“Human blood,” I said.
He pursed his lips and nodded. “There were moments during the first weeks following the gods’ departure that I had to protect myself and those I love from enterprising human hunters.”
That could be true, I thought. In the early days, just after the gods left, it seemed that any human with a gun deputized themselves and went after Others.
But then again, it could have been a lie, and the blood red stain could be because of Oighrig End.
“I am innocent,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.
“I don’t know,” I said. “When the authorities eventually show up, I will have to tell them who and what you are.”
I readied myself for an attack, but Remi just shook his head. “That will be a mistake,” he growled, taking two steps in my direction. But he didn’t take a third, instead clasping a hand over his mouth as if trying to push the words back down his throat. But they were out, so he said, “My apologies. Whatever knocked us out also put my manners to sleep. I see your predicament, and suspect I would do the same if I were in your shoes. Do as you must, young lady. No one here will try to stop you.”
So Remi was willing to let me show them his blood-stained hands and a body. Either he was guilty and for some reason happy to face the consequences, or there was something else going on.
I’d barely had time to consider the possibilities when Sarah stood up and turned in the direction of my voice. “He’s innocent.”
“You can’t see his hands. They’re stained—”
“He’s innocent. I know he is, because he was with me all evening.”
↔
“So another little piece of truth comes out,” I said. “You two are … what?”
“Engaged to be married,” Remi said. “We will be the first of our kind. Seelie and UnSeelie Court members bound together by the sanctity of marriage.”
“How Romeo and Juliet of you,” I said.
“Turn him in and I shall confess to the murder, too. They can have two innocents in their cells, if they like.”
“No,” Orange said, “we’re forgetting about the dark elf. You said he was covered in human blood.”
“And apparently a ghost,” I said, pointing at Jack. “Look, I don’t know who’s innocent and who’s guilty. I don’t know who’s working with who, but a man was murdered, and we can’t just say ‘Forget it’ because he happened to be an asshole. There’s a body, and there will be an investigation.”
“And if we just tell them about the dark elf, corroborate our stories, and—”
“A man died. A man died because—if I understand you all correctly—he wanted to tell the truth about some event that happened eight hundred years ago. That man did not have a chance to see the bigger impact of his book. He was not reasoned with so he could consider not publishing it. He was just murdered.
“But here’s the thing: even if he had heard your arguments and chose to publish the book anyway, he still didn’t deserve to die. No one deserves to die for wanting to share the truth.”
I looked from person to person, and no one would meet my gaze.
It didn’t matter. I believed what I’d said and would follow through. That was my truth. And if one of them came after me, if the dark elf chose to attack once more from the shadows, so be it. This was a truth I was willing to fight and die for.
“Good,” I said. “Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ve heard just about all the preaching I can stand. I’m going to bed, and I suggest we all do the same.”
Bedtime Musings
We still weren’t sure who was working with whom, and we were only slightly closer to the truth, but we all retired to our rooms anyway. It had been a very long day.
Before I left, I grabbed the notes from all the interviews we did and, with only one copy of each, I was sure someone would protest. No one did. No one was interested in the interview notes. No one but me.
Deirdre asked to sleep with me, given her room was the scene of a murder. Once we were in the room, I dragged a couch to block our door. Deirdre, much stronger than me, lifted the oak wardrobe and set it atop the couch. “Just in case,” she said.
Looking at her handiwork, I said, “You’re my ‘just in case.’ ”
With that we got into bed, and I went over the notes before finally giving up and throwing them to one side. I swear to the GoneGods, everyone’s interviews were more ‘How are you doing?’ and less ‘Where were you at the time of the murder?’ Not to stereotype, but fae are the worst detectives.
Frustrated, confused and no closer to understanding what had happened, I tried to sleep. But the trouble with a murder, a missing body and being roofied … sleep doesn’t come easy after all that. We lay awake, staring at the ceiling for a long time, neither of us speaking until Deirdre sighed. “We were all poisoned. Does that mean none of us is the killer?”
I thought about that for a long moment before shaking my head. “It might mean that, but then again, it might mean one or more of the group is working with someone else who
’s hiding in the shadows.”
Deirdre hummed in agreement.
“Almost everyone there is hiding something.”
“How so?” she asked.
“In a minute. First I want to ask you something. It might be the missing piece to the puzzle. Then again, it might mean nothing.”
“Anything, milady.”
“When we were examining Oighrig End’s body, I saw you do that thing you do with your eyes when you’re trying to keep a secret.”
She did it again. “Do you think anyone noticed?”
I shook my head. “It was almost imperceptible. I only noticed because I’ve seen it before. But with that said, what did you see?”
“A thread from a thistle blade, milady.”
“Thread? Thistle blade?”
She turned over and gave me a confused look, as if I must know what a thistle blade was. “A blade crafted from the barbs of a thistle flower. These threads are woven together so tightly that the blade is as sharp as a razor. Thistle blades are used when enacting revenge for a great crime.”
Got to hand it to the fae—they had something for everything. “Deirdre, you mentioned that the blade was woven. But given how sharp the blade must be, I’m assuming tiny hands are needed to weave it?”
“Indeed, milady,” Deirdre said solemnly.
“Abatwa-sized hands.”
“Thistle blades are one of the crafts they are most revered for.”
“I see. Given what happened to Pop, it might be the killer trying to tie up loose ends. You know, get rid of the guy who forged the murder weapon.” I sighed as I thought about poor Pop and his missing leg.
Leg or no leg, I thought, I guess no one is too small to be a suspect.
“Or too big,” she said to my out-loud thought. She reached down and touched her bruised ankle.
Or too close to me, I thought (in my head).
“Deirdre,” I said, “you’re my friend and I’ll defend you until kingdom come.”
“I think kingdom came,” she said with a smile.
“Joke?”
“Joke.”
“Not bad, my changeling friend, not bad. But what I want to ask you—need to ask you—comes from a place of love and respect. And whatever the answer, I swear I will never betray you.”
“You wish to know if I am the one who ended Oighrig End?”
I nodded.
“Milady, I have sworn to you my sword arm and heart. There is nothing I would not tell you.”
“Good,” I said, looking into her eyes. She didn’t speak. “And?” I said.
“And what, milady? If I had wanted to kill Oighrig End, I would have had to request your permission first. But I did not request, nor did you command. My hand had nothing to do with his death.”
Of course, I thought. I wasn’t thinking this all through. By giving me her sword arm, she had basically handed over all free will when it came to fighting, maiming and killing. The only way she could be responsible for killing Professor End was if I had told her to, making me just as much the murderer as her. More so, even.
“OK,” I said, “so we can rule you out. Can we rule anyone else out?”
Deirdre gave me a confused look. “Milady, I was led to believe that everyone was innocent. After all, we were all drugged, you have personally seen a dark elf, and then there is the matter of that email Remi LaChance showed you.”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid none of that exonerates anyone.”
Now it was Deirdre’s turn to give me a curious look.
“OK, let’s take this one by one. Being drugged. I didn’t mention this before because I was hoping someone would slip up, but it wasn’t just the dark elf, Jack and me. There was someone else.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, but when the dark elf was squeezing the life out of me, someone came to my rescue, which means there are either two people running loose in the building and they aren’t working together, which is an unlikely scenario, or one of them pretended to be drugged, and when the other player—this dark elf wildcard—attacked, their better nature came out and they saved me.”
The changeling shook her head. “Milady, I am grateful there is another amongst us who is fighting for your safety.”
“Yeah, but—”
“That aside,” Deirdre said, interrupting me in a manner uncharacteristic for her, “I have never known you to be so suspicious. I believe all known individuals to be innocent, and I agree with your theory that there are two people hiding amongst us who are working together. But my reasoning is different than yours.”
As much as I like being right, I wanted to follow her logic through. “OK, I’ll bite … how so?”
“You saw the wounds on Oighrig End. They were inconsistent and from multiple angles, as if whoever stabbed him did so with one hand, then switched hands and continued stabbing. That suggests that two conspirators working together to end End is far more likely.”
“And one tried to kill me while the other saved me?”
“Why not? Two conspirators may share a common enemy in Professor End, but not in you. Dark elves are not known for their restraint, and when he attacked you, the other simply stepped in to avoid compounding the tragedy with the death of an innocent.”
I hadn’t considered that. Not all murderers were created equal, and it was possible that one was willing to kill again and again to preserve their anonymity, while the other refused to cross that line. “OK,” I said, “let’s say you’re right about that. What about Jack stopping me from chasing the dark elf?”
“Have you considered that the giant may have been trying to save your life?”
I raised a doubtful eyebrow.
“Think about it. He could not help you battle this dark elf, and knew you were outmatched. He understood that if you chased after the dark elf it might lead to your death, so he stopped you from doing so.”
“True,” I said. “And the dark elf’s co-conspirator might have saved me when I accidently stumbled upon his hiding place. He may think twice about saving me again when I actively chase them. So Jack was trying to save me.”
“Perhaps. But then again, perhaps not.”
“So I may or may not owe him an apology,” I said. “Then there’s the matter of Jack really thinking the dark elf is King Aelfric.”
Deirdre shook her head. “I have considered this point again and again, and I believe it to be glamor. The dark elf knew Jack would not raise a hand against his former king, and made his appearance resemble the giant’s dead king.”
“I agree. A trick is far more believable than the elf returning from the dead. But none of that matters. I still think one or more of them is lying.”
“Why? When you consider the email, it exonerates them all.”
“It’s precisely because of the email that I still have my doubts.”
Deirdre tilted her head.
“Remi showed me the email on his web browser.”
“I do not follow, milady.”
“Web browsers on smart phones tend to refresh every time you open them. We don’t have access to the internet, which means that he either took a screenshot of the email—something you wouldn’t do unless you expected to be without internet—or he forged it to throw me off.”
“Oh,” Deirdre said, taking my word for it. She wasn’t one for technology, and frequently asked me questions even a technically challenged grandmother would roll her eyes at.
“So that’s why I want to know who we can rule out.”
Deirdre gave me a mournful look. This investigation was far from over. “Sadly, because the weapon is a thistle blade, both Jarvis and the abatwas could be responsible.”
“The abatwas? Aren’t they too … you know,” I gave her the universal gesture for super-duper tiny.
She gave me an admonishing look and I remembered how easily they’d carried the chairs and speakers. They were strong, and if they worked together, they could have easily killed Professor End.
“
OK,” I said, “so they’re suspects. What about Jack?”
“A warrior who carries the Gleipnir chain. If his history intersects with Oighrig End’s, or if he is beholden to one whose does …”
“So the giant is in. What about the rest?”
“The elf and halfling do not seem to have any motivations or clues against them, but that does not mean innocence. And as for the human soldier, he did question Oighrig End with vigor bordering on anger. But again, there are no clues pointing to his hand in this.”
“So they’re in, too. Which only leaves us Freol?”
She shrugged.
Freol still hadn’t said a word to me. In fact, he still hadn’t met my eyes. The guy was a bit creepy—especially in that suit.
“Can’t discount him, either. So basically everyone is a suspect. And because of what happened earlier, everyone’s also innocent. In other words, we have no idea who was and wasn’t involved.”
“That’s not true. We know we weren’t a part of this, but that’s about it.”
“True,” I said, “but there’s more at play than a single murderer in our midst.”
“Such as, milady?”
“Nightmares. When I was asleep, I dreamt of something so vivid it had to be a memory. But it wasn’t mine. And I can’t even remember what happened in it—only the feeling it gave me.”
Deirdre gave me a grave look. “A nightmare? When did this happen, milady?”
“Just before you discovered Oighrig End’s body.”
Deirdre pursed her lips. “Do you remember anything about that dream?”
I shook my head. “All I remember is I was seeing something from the eyes of another. And what I saw left me with this terrible feeling. But that’s not all … I’m seeing things. When that dark elf was strangling me, I thought I saw Justin. He was the one who hit the elf with the hockey stick. Saved me. But it couldn’t be him. He’s home with his parents, and—”