Heart Secret

by Robin D. Owens

  Not good. Felt a lot. Was stalking the man who was killed, heard the mean scary one went after raccoons this morning.

  Stalking? Garrett pounced on the word. Stalking implied that the murderer had known who Modoc Eryngo was, which confirmed the theory that the man’s own murderous past had caught up with him.

  Yes, stood in shadows, prowl after. She pressed against the backs of Garrett’s calves.

  Where did you first see the killer and the murdered man?

  Late, late at old airship park. Bright lights. Prey left old ship. Killer saw and followed. I watched, but soon close to Turquoise House and did not want to be near the big red anger. You were at Turquoise House and food and the soft Healer to feed us and pet us and was much nicer than scary killer.

  He imagined so. You didn’t go to Apollopa Park?

  Park with pretty mirrors stuck in stupid water and old Temple full of smells? Raccoon den? No. She snuck back out from under the bench, stayed close, but began grooming her whiskers.

  Garrett grunted. One of his talents was the ability to meld minds with a Fam, but he didn’t do it often, and this cat was skittish enough to harm them both if he tried. He mulled over her words. “Why would he go after the raccoons this morning?”

  Because they are ugly and nasty, said Sleek Black, not even bothering to look up from cleaning his stomach.

  The newest cat, a gray tabby tom with big eyes and ratty ears crept closer to Garrett but stayed out of kicking range. Garrett had gotten the idea that this one had been abused. The cat’s voice was no more than a whisper in Garrett’s mind. Because raccoons took something the killer left by the prey.

  And killer went back to park this morning to search, said Sleek Black between licks on his stomach hair.

  So there were three cats who’d seen something of the murder and aftermath. The young female cat, who’d seen Modoc Eryngo arrive in Druida and be stalked by his killer; the abused gray tabby, who had seen something of the killer and his prey; and Sleek Black, who had been in the area that morning, a full day and night after the murder.

  First things first, the most important item, the murder itself. Garrett stared at the new gray tabby tom. He shrank back a few steps, huddled in on himself.

  You were near Apollopa Park when the murder happened?

  No!

  But soon after?

  Maybe.

  How soon after?

  The cat’s glance slid away, but not enough that he didn’t keep an eye on Garrett’s feet.

  Maybe I saw a strange bundle in park that looked like prey. Maybe there was a shadow dancing around the fountain, admiring self in mirrors.

  The image of a capering killer sent a chill down Garrett’s spine.

  Do you think the bundle was dead? he asked.

  Another shift away a few centimeters, one whisk of his gray-and-black-ringed tail. Maybe. Not moving.

  Though tension had tightened his muscles, Garrett strove to seem relaxed, easy. He couldn’t afford to scare the cat away.

  Tell me exactly what you saw.

  The cat hunched into a crouch, watching Garrett, ready to shoot out of the courtyard and into the alleys. All the other ferals moved closer, ears rotating, curious. They were all nearly as curious as Garrett.

  Gray Tabby swept his glance around the rest of the cats, probably hoping that they might protect him from Garrett. The cat had joined the band only a couple of weeks past, and Garrett thought it had watched for an eightday or two before that.

  Garrett had never hurt a cat deliberately—trod on a tail that he hadn’t seen, little incidents like that, but never had hurt one, or any animal. Would never hurt an animal. Well, would never hurt any sane animal . . . a mad cat or something, that was a different situation.

  Gray Tabby’s claws flexed, scraped against the flagstones. Again he gazed at Garrett, then his eyes focused on the food trough—yet holding enough for several meals—and back at Garrett.

  Apollopa Park is a common area for many animals, the cat sent telepathically, this time with a cool and precise accent of Noble Druidan, though the Flair power behind the thought remained slight. Very interesting.

  I was trotting to the park to sniff the scents of those who den there. A quick flick of eyes at the rest of the band. I do not sleep with these others. I was looking for a nice hollow. Cool and dry and something that smells good. I prefer a burrow near herbs, chamomile or even lavender. A hardy fragrance herb garden was once planted around the old Temple.

  Black-and-White snorted.

  “Go on.” Garrett flipped a hand at Gray Tabby and he cringed. Garrett couldn’t link deeply with this cat’s mind, either.

  The cat continued. I went by way of the main street in the front of the park. The path you and Healer Artemisia took yesterday morning. There was a small family of intelligent raccoons, a sire and dam and two kits, who were living at the park, but I thought that they might be moving.

  “Um-hmm.” Garrett encouraged.

  I did not want to interrupt. A raccoon mother is fierce.

  “Most mothers are fierce.”

  I saw the bundle on the ground. Hesitation now. I do not think the prey was dead. But the dancing shadow was a threat. There was nothing I could do.

  The cat could have yowled and summoned help, or run for help.

  Perhaps if you had been available, I would have told you. But you were sick and Healer Artemisia was watching you and is too soft to deal with such a fellow.

  Chills slid through Garrett at the thought of Artemisia confronting a crazed killer. She’d have immediately gone to the fallen man, would have Healed him. And been new prey for the killer.

  Nausea burned up his throat, bittering his mouth. He dragged a breath through his nose. “You did right,” he said, since the gray tabby trusted only him and Artemisia.

  A shrug rippled through the cat, as if it didn’t care for Garrett’s approval, or, more likely, the tabby had already accepted that what was past was past and he couldn’t change it.

  Something the cat—all cats—could teach Garrett. Something he’d have to learn.

  The hunter danced until the prey died, then went back to him and gloated. Then the killer put a man-claw that was shiny and nasty and sharp—next to the dead prey. Did not eat the prey.

  Garrett frowned. “I don’t recall seeing a man-claw—a knife?—by the body.”

  I do not know a knife that shape, said the cat stiffly. He rocked back to his haunches, licked a forepaw in arrogance, still watching Garrett. There was no man-claw by the body because a raccoon took it.

  “Ah.”

  Sleek Black, now done cleaning himself, ambled to the toes of Garrett’s boots and stared up at him. With a cock of his ear, he indicated the gray tabby. Gray Tabby ran from the green place and back to TQ and has slept there since. A sniff. Before sunrise this morning, he tells of hunter and prey. I went to see. A pause and a shiver. Killer was there. Fury. Search for the man-claw. Found den of ’coons. Found man-claw. Kicked and kicked the burrow and all the ’coons ran. Waved the man-claw. I did not want to stay. Returned to TQ for food.

  “I understand,” Garrett said.

  The gray tabby scratched cobbles again and Garrett looked toward him.

  His big eyes got bigger; the whispery telepathic voice was back. I talked to you for a long time and gave you big news, yes?

  Yes. Garrett nodded.

  Then big news means big treats. A small pink tongue slipped over his muzzle. I haven’t had furrabeast steak in a long time. A pause with intent scrutiny. They say you have nip.

  “That’s right.” Garrett stood, stretched again. When he moved, his tunic released a slight herbal odor. He’d sweated and his bespelled shirt was sending his perspiration into the air.

  The gray tabby smiled.

 
Garrett liked the fresh odor, too. It occurred to him that he could now buy a wardrobe of bespelled clothes. Of course, when he was sneaking around on his job, he would like the odor absorbed.

  Come inside and I’ll give you your treats, Garrett said.

  Me, too! said the young female. I gave news of stalker and prey.

  Also true, Garrett said.

  Sleek Black watched Garrett with narrowed eyes. I should have a treat for data about the raccoons. I also ranged the dens of the rich in Noble Country.

  Anything regarding the murder around there?

  Saw, smelled, felt no angry hunter, Sleek Black conceded.

  The slightest tension in Garrett relaxed. Nothing worse than setting himself against a FirstFamily Noble.

  With a draft of cool air, the back door of the building opened and a fashionable woman came out. Gray Tabby and another cat scattered. A couple went back to the trough and slurped more food. The rest gathered near Garrett.

  The woman, a mind counselor who officed in the building, tsked and frowned. “Really, Garrett, how often have I asked you not to hold your little meetings—” She broke off as her eyes widened and she took in the sight of him. Obviously noticing his appearance had changed a bit—he’d lost weight. He’d hoped the lines in his face hadn’t gotten deeper, but since she stared, the grooves must be more noticeable. A hint of slyness slipped into her eyes, and when she walked toward him, it wasn’t her usual professional stride, but one that had her hips swaying. “I’d heard that you had helped out Primary HealingHall . . . and gotten a grant from the FirstFamilies. I hadn’t quite thought—”

  Sleek Black rubbed against her bloused trous.

  “What! Get away from me, you filthy—” With a scowl and a short exhalation of breath, she abandoned her flirting and hurried away.

  Garrett glanced at Sleek Black. “Nice going.”

  Sleek Black purred. Thank you. I get good treats, too?

  “For sure,” Garrett agreed. He opened the back door and Gray Tabby zoomed from the alley and inside, followed by the female cat who’d seen the murderer stalk Eryngo, and Sleek Black. The fat brown female tabby wedged through the door opening, too.

  “You want a treat, too?”

  She revved a purr. I have been following your lady for you. I hopped on the public carrier and We went to Primary HealingHall. I napped in the sun in the trees until she came out. Then she went home last night and ate with her Family.

  Garrett stood motionless, hand on the door latch to the storage room. Sleek Black swiped at his ankle to get him moving again. Garrett should have stopped the plump female from her report on Artemisia but couldn’t find it in himself to do so.

  The cat wrinkled her nose. It was a long walk. They put out food for Me. Food was good but not as good as yours. And then she and sister walked to the Healing pool and sat and swam. Then they went back home and went to sleep. This morning I ate there, too, and went to HealingHall and watched you both.

  Sounded like the cat had missed the most stupid things Garrett had done. Just as well. And he was learning information. Artemisia lived with her Family near a Healing pool. Her home must be close to a HealingHall. Which one?

  Whap! Sleek Black’s paw hit Garrett’s ankle hard. TREATS!

  He pulled out some dried furrabeast steak bites on three plates. Gray Tabby wrinkled his nose, but when the others gobbled with an eye on his plate, crunched the bites down. After they were done, Garrett led the little parade back to the courtyard and put a pinch of catnip in front of each of the three.

  The plump female licked it up, then fell on it, wriggled, and went to sleep, paws up. Gray Tabby snorted it in, then gamboled about the yard. Sleek Black rolled and rubbed on his, then ran away on his own cat business, tail waving.

  In the distance a Temple rang NoonBell and Garrett’s stomach grumbled. He didn’t want one of the casual meals he kept here. A hearty lunch would be good. He wondered if Rusby had had his feedings and checked on the bond with his FamCat, felt a low-level hunger in the kitten, too. Have to find a place that would welcome Fams. Laev’s wife, Camellia D’Hawthorn, had Fams . . . and two tearooms/restaurants that served food. He didn’t want to go back to the original, where he’d inadvertently killed a guy, but Darjeeling’s HouseHeart had substantial enough meals for a man.

  Rusby? he projected mentally. Got back an image of his kitten stretching hind end up and yawning.

  Yes, FamMan? Food soon?

  That’s what I was going to tell you. Stay there and I’ll teleport, then we’ll go to Darjeeling’s HouseHeart.

  We will?

  It serves Fams.

  He sensed his kitten cocking his head, purring. I would like to be served.

  Garrett gave a short laugh. Thing was, he’d never admit it, but he’d like to be served this meal, too. No pulling something from the no-time. I’ll be there in ten minutes.

  All right.

  Garrett wanted to list a lot of don’t goes but didn’t want to put ideas into his Fam’s small head. But before he went to lunch, he wanted to take the call from Laev.

  He strode back to his office and hitched a hip on his desk, scried Laev T’Hawthorn.

  The GreatLord answered, “Here.”

  “You called? And I hope you took some messages about new cases for me.”

  A smug expression settled on Laev’s face. “I negotiated fees for a few.”

  “What!”

  Laev lifted his brows. “You were grossly undercharging for your services.”

  Garrett narrowed his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t soak any lower- or middle-class people.”

  “I didn’t soak any lower- or middle-class people.” Laev smiled. “But they were impressed when I told them you were on a secret mission for the FirstFamilies. You have two cases from that strata.” A throbbing pause. “Four from the Noble class, one GraceLord, two GrandLords . . .” Another pause where Laev turned serious and his mouth hardened. “And a vital commission from the FirstFamilies Council I was requested to present to you.”

  “Ah. I don’t mind charging the FirstFamilies Council a lot, soaking them.”

  A short nod from Laev, but strain around his eyes.

  “It’s about the Modoc Eryngo murder, right?” Garrett said. “The FirstFamilies Council is accustomed to using Captain Winterberry as an investigator in high-Noble, high-profile cases, and he’s got a big conflict of interest in this one.”

  “You are a detective,” Laev said drily.

  Garrett lifted and dropped a shoulder. “Not difficult to deduce.”

  One side of Laev’s mouth tilted in a half smile, then, in a habitual gesture, he tapped his fingers together. “As a matter of fact, the FirstFamilies Council likes the idea of not using an official Druida guardsman as an investigator.”

  Garrett’s scalp prickled.

  Twenty-one

  Warning buzzed in the back of Garrett’s mind as he stared at his friend GreatLord Laev T’Hawthorn. “I can’t be bought by the FirstFamilies.” Garrett’s mouth flattened, then he smiled and crossed his arms. “Especially now I have enough gilt that I never need to work again.”

  Another tap of Laev’s fingertips and upraised brows. “Very good. I’m sure you will have to meet with a contingent of us”—he meant the younger generation of lords and ladies on the FirstFamilies Council—“and define your concerns and boundaries, but we know you to be a man of honor.”

  That statement flicked Garrett straight on the raw. He hadn’t acted with honor toward Artemisia. He kept his face impassive but saw a considering weight in Laev’s eyes. But whatever Laev thought, he was Garrett’s friend.

  “I’m glad the FirstFamilies Council approves of me.” Garrett’s turn to use a dry tone.

  “We want you to make finding this murderer your first priority. Capt
ain Winterberry will be in charge of the guards as they do their standard investigation, but he will report to you. We expect you to ensure that Winterberry’s feelings do not cloud his judgement on this. We would prefer not to officially remove him. He is a good man and handled the original case, so has vital information.” Laev’s expression soured. “And several of the FirstFamilies believe the fligger Eryngo got what he deserved.”

  “Murder is not necessarily a good answer. Should have let the councils take care of the man,” Garrett said.

  “You sound more like Captain of the Guards Winterberry than I’d anticipated,” Laev said.

  Garrett recalled the greatest Nobles also had a habit of duels and feuding to settle problems. Well, he didn’t care about that and sure wouldn’t interfere.

  “I’ll take this case, since I’m already involved, but don’t think I’ll be the FirstFamilies’ pet.”

  Laev’s face went bland. “Of course not. Later.” He ended the scry.

  Garrett rubbed at his face. Had he insulted his best friend? Maybe. But since he meant what he’d said, he couldn’t really take it back. His stomach rumbled again.

  There was a quick pop and Gray Tabby was there, staring up at Garrett and licking tiny shreds of furrabeast from his paw.

  “Yes?” Garrett asked.

  Gray Tabby looked away. Garrett . . . Gray Tabby whispered.

  Yes?

  As if reluctant to go on, the cat flexed his claws once or twice. Finally he said, The hunter was happy and proud. I do not like people who are happy and proud and kill for fun and not for food.

  “I hear you,” he replied. “What—”

  But Gray Tabby teleported away to someplace safe.

  I am WAITING, Rusby yelled down their bond.

  And I’m coming now.

  Good, I am hungry!

  Garrett’s gut emitted another sound. I am, too.

  * * *

  For a while, Artemisia wandered through the trees of the Healing Grove next to Primary HealingHall, letting the greenness soothe her and the heat of the sun allay her pain.