Finn answered a few questions, but the gleam in his eyes meant he saw right through me. Eventually he asked, “Is your interest in the prison linked to the attack last night?”
“No. I was just curious.”
He leaned back on one elbow. “Even if I hadn’t been trained to spot one, you’re not a good lair. Your questions about security at Wirral combined with the attack last night, mean you’re up to something. You’re on a mission.”
I tried to protest, but he shook his head. “Don’t bother denying it. Since I doubt you’re up to no good, why don’t you tell me what’s going on so I can help you?”
I hesitated. He straightened and said, “I have sources all over Fulgor.” He leaned toward me. “What if you’re attacked again? If I know what’s going on, I can better protect you.”
Sticking to the truth, I said, “I’m on a mission for myself. No one sent me. You know I’m not popular among the guards. Remember the drunks at the Spotted Dog?”
“What’s the mission?”
“I’d rather not say. Don’t worry. It doesn’t involve helping any of the prisoners at Wirral.”
“Good. Do you expect to be ambushed again?”
“Not with my escorts following me around Fulgor.”
Finn gave me a wry smile. “They care about you. And…” He reached for one of the flasks, twisting off the cap. He poured wine into one of the cups and handed it to me. He filled the other and fiddled with it.
Unsure of what to do with the cup, I prompted, “And?”
“And, I’m beginning to care about you, too.” He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. His warm fingers stroked my cheek and lingered under my chin, drawing me closer. He kissed me.
My heart broke into a gallop. In order to maintain the ruse, I kissed him back. After…I don’t know…seconds?…minutes?…he drew back and gave me that slanted grin. He raised his cup and stopped as a twig snapped.
We both turned. The four men who had attacked us before stood a few feet downstream. My heart increased its pace to a full-out canter.
“How romantic,” Middle Man said. “I hope we’re interrupting.”
Finn stood and pulled his sword. I cursed myself for not replacing my sais. Instead, I grabbed my switchblade and triggered it as I positioned myself next to Finn.
He glanced at me and asked, “Are you certain these goons aren’t here about your mission?”
“Yes,” I said.
The four men advanced.
“This isn’t going to be pretty. Any chance we can talk our way out of this?” he asked.
I called to the men. “What do you want?”
“You already know, Opal. Don’t go acting like you’re surprised,” Middle Man said.
Finn asked, “Any chance you could just tell them or give them what they want?”
“I’m not working for anyone,” I shouted at the men. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“Then why are you in Fulgor?” Middle Man asked.
“I told you. For a job. My friends.” I almost screamed in frustration.
The men paused and exchanged a glance with Finn. He lowered his weapon and turned to me. “You’re either incredibly smart or unbelievably stupid.”
A chill raced over my skin. “Excuse me?”
“Somehow you blocked my magic, so I can’t read your intentions.” He gestured to the goons. “We couldn’t scare the information from you, and I couldn’t romance it from you, either.” A wild gleam lit his eyes. He sheathed his weapon.
I backed away, pointing my knife at his chest. “What are you saying?”
“The game’s been fun. And it just galls me to resort to the old-fashioned ways, but, sweetheart, you’re one tough nut to crack.”
8
MY MIND REELED AS I BACKED AWAY FROM FINN, trying to connect him to the four smiling goons. The realization that I was an amateur caught in a professional’s game lodged in my throat. And even though my heart pumped for all it was worth, my legs refused to run.
Upstream remained the only direction open. Since Finn had arranged this whole surprise, he probably already had it covered. He matched me step for step until I reached the edge of the boulder. My knife was all that separated us.
Finn moved without warning. Pain flared in my wrist, and he held my switchblade.
“Are you going to cooperate and tell us what your mission is?” he asked.
“I told you—”
“Nothing. No matter. You will.”
“Why don’t you believe me?”
“I deal with prisoners all day so I don’t believe anyone. And, I’ve told you before, it’s part of my job to find out why you’re in town. The warden has also given me permission to make sure your keen interest in the SMU isn’t because you’re up to no good.” He reached into his pocket.
I jumped off the boulder, landing hard on the uneven ground. I spun, intent on running, when a dart pricked my neck. Finn grabbed my arm before I could yank it out. I marveled at his reflexes as my world liquefied. He picked me up as if I weighed nothing.
How could he hold me when my body was a puddle? He poured me back onto the boulder. I sloshed at the edges and stared in amazement at the drippy trees and his gooey face.
Finn settled next to me. “Isn’t this better than torture?”
The forest spun around my boulder. His men stretched into long lines of color. “Anything’s better than torture.” The intense rush of the waterfall overwhelmed my senses.
“Plus you’ve proven to be very resistant to torture.”
I giggled. In a minuscule section of my mind, a tiny Opal was appalled by my behavior. Miniature Opal screamed at me to stop being ridiculous. This was a serious situation. But big Opal was completely at Finn’s mercy.
“Tell me,” he commanded.
And I couldn’t resist. The words gushed up my throat and poured from my mouth, filling the forest until I drowned in them.
When I woke, I couldn’t remember what Finn had asked me or what I had told him. My stomach heaved and I rolled over and expelled the picnic lunch onto the ground. Only spotty details of the afternoon remained. I glanced around, expecting to see Finn and his goons gloating, but the forest was empty.
I lay back as relief then fear then anger consumed me. Did he expect me to ignore what happened? And why did he go to all that trouble? Why did he and the warden care about my reason for being in Fulgor? Did they really think I would try to help one of the inmates escape? The answers eluded me.
Should I tell the Councilor? The thought pumped ice through my veins. His magic couldn’t hurt me, but that meant nothing. This guy was out of my league. He reminded me of Valek. Perhaps it was time for me to call in that favor. After the Warper Battle six years ago, Valek had offered me his assistance. Anytime and anywhere, he had said. I hoped he meant it.
I staggered from the boulder. A moldy smell clung to my clothes, and I wondered how long I had been out of it. By the time I found Quartz, the sun hovered over the horizon. Having no energy to face anyone, I headed straight for the inn. I wouldn’t tell anyone about Finn. Not yet. He had the warden’s permission. Plus he had claimed he was doing his job—my questions about the SMU worried him, but his methods sent warning signals. This time I wasn’t going to waste effort trying to solve this one on my own.
In the middle of the night, I woke, convinced Finn hovered over me. I jolted upright, and scanned the shadows. No one. A shudder rattled my teeth as I realized how easy it had been for Finn to fool me and how quickly he’d trapped me. I was defenseless against him.
I doubted Finn could get that close to Valek. Worry panged. Maybe I should deal with Finn myself? Stop it, Opal, I chided myself. Young and inexperienced Opal would have reported him to the Councilor and tried to convince her of his misdeeds.
Older and smarter Opal called for help right away. This concerned Valek just as much as me. Finn had illegally obtained private information about both of us.
I mentally checked Finn off my
to-do list. He had to know I wasn’t here to help anyone escape from the SMU. If I avoided him, I should be fine until Valek arrived. I would concentrate all my effort on finding my blood. Then it hit me. I had to assume Finn knew all about my mission. Damn.
My sore muscles protested as I pushed the blankets from my legs. I hopped down and paced the room. I needed a new strategy and fast. Finn could decide to find my blood and use it, or sell it, or dump it on the ground for a laugh.
I reviewed all that I had learned since arriving in Fulgor. The warden, Finn and the hotshots. I sorted through my memories. As the sky lightened with the dawn, I formed the only plan that had a chance of working. I would sneak into Wirral and ask Ulrick myself.
When I arrived at work in the morning, Zebb sat at his desk. For better or for worse, Zebb was part of the team. My background search on him had uncovered an exemplary service record. We still didn’t like each other, but we tolerated each other’s presence.
“Zebb, do you still have that glass messenger?”
He straightened, instantly wary. “Yeah. Why?”
“I need you to contact Leif Zaltana for me.”
Huffing at my audacity, he said, “Sorry, it’s for emergencies and Council business only.”
“This is Council business. I have an idea about who may have attacked the Councilor, but I need more information.” He hesitated.
“Should I bother the Councilor for permission?”
“No.” He yanked the goat from his pocket and peered into its depths. “Leif better have one,” he grumbled.
“He does.” I had always given him extras.
Zebb concentrated and then asked in a distracted voice, “What do you want to know?”
“Ask him if a Finn Bloodgood was ever a student at the Keep.” I waited.
Eventually Zebb put the goat down. “He doesn’t recognize the name, but he said he’ll find out and get back to me. Do you think this Finn is involved in the attack?”
“It’s possible, and I’d like to know how strong he is.”
“Anything else?” Zebb asked. His flippant tone indicated he didn’t think I would request any more.
He was wrong.
“Yes. Can you contact Yelena Zaltana?”
“The Soulfinder?” He seemed a bit shocked.
“Unless you know another Yelena?”
When he didn’t respond, I said, “You made that snide comment about my hanging out with Master Magicians and the Soulfinder, so why are you surprised?”
“I thought you weren’t…”
“Important enough to really know the Soulfinder?”
At least he wasn’t tactless enough to agree with me. Progress. Instead he raised the glass goat. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
After a few moments he smiled. First genuine smile I’ve seen from him.
“She wants to know what you’re doing in Fulgor,” Zebb said.
“Tell her I’m assisting a friend, and ask her to contact Ghost for me. I need his help.”
“Ghost? Who’s that?”
“A mutual friend.” Ghost was Kiki’s name for Valek. Yelena could communicate with her horse, and Kiki had special horse names for everyone. Leif’s was Sad Man, and Janco’s was Rabbit. I never did find out mine.
Zebb returned the goat to his pocket.
“Well?” I prompted.
“She said he’s already on his way.”
I should have known. Perhaps our immunity connected us and he sensed when I really needed him.
“Do you think this Ghost can find the magician?” Zebb asked.
“Oh yes. No doubt.”
Later that day, Zebb told me Leif didn’t see Finn’s name listed in the Keep’s records. I wasn’t surprised. Not all magicians attended the Keep. The Sandseed Story Weavers taught their own children and new Stormdancers learned from the experienced dancers.
Before leaving, I carried a box of old documents down to the Councilor’s record room. I had waited until most of the workers left for the evening. Since this area only housed Tama Moon’s documents, it wasn’t staffed. The rest of the Moon Clan’s records filled up its own building and employed five people to keep it organized.
I added my box to a stack before searching for design plans. Long sheets of parchment rolled into tubes lined the back wall, but after going through them, I realized they were blueprints for various buildings throughout Fulgor and not ones for the important structures like security headquarters, the Councilor’s Hall and the prisons.
After five such visits, I finally discovered a long metal cabinet hidden under a sheet and under piles of boxes. Its long drawers were only a few inches deep—the perfect size for blueprints. They were also locked.
I pulled my lock picks from the hem of my shirt. Using a diamond pick and my tension wrench, I unlocked the cabinet. Buried beneath detailed maps of Fulgor, I found the blueprints for Wirral. Each level of the prison had its own sheet. I gathered all ten oversize pages and folded them to resemble a stack of papers, which I shoved into a file folder. If Finn spotted me leaving the Councilor’s Hall with rolls of paper, my intentions would be obvious.
However, it appeared as if Finn had lost interest in me. He had gotten what he wanted—my reason for being in Fulgor. I hadn’t seen him in days, but again, with someone like him it didn’t mean he wasn’t watching my every move. At least, I still had my escorts and I kept my guard up, determined not to relax.
With all the information and documents I had collected on my excursions, I outgrew my tiny room at the Second Chance Inn. Time for a bigger place with more privacy.
I hadn’t planned to buy it. My intentions had been to find an apartment or small cottage to rent. But when I passed the building with its bright For Sale sign hanging in the window, I couldn’t resist.
I didn’t need it, didn’t know what I would do with all that space and equipment and couldn’t form a good enough explanation as to why I bought it. So much had happened there, and I had no fond memories of the place. Yet I couldn’t walk away and let someone else, probably a saner and more logical someone else, purchase Gressa’s glass factory. Mine now. I waited for the feelings of panic and buyer’s remorse to overwhelm me. Nothing.
The two-story brick building was at the end of a long row of stores. Its narrow front masked the depth of the structure. Unlocking the door, I entered the salesroom. Dust-covered shelves lined the walls and display cases dotted the floor. All of Gressa’s glass pieces had been sold. Since this room would no longer be used as a store, I made a note to buy curtains for the large front windows.
The door into the factory was behind the register. The Employees Only sign remained, but the knob turned under my hand. I paused and viewed the four kilns and various glassmaking paraphernalia. Familiar feelings bubbled, not because I had worked here before, but because the silent cold kilns and abandoned equipment matched my soul.
No hum, no warmth and no magic.
I would eventually need to sell the machinery, but for now I explored the office. Colored glass sheets hung on the walls, and the clear glass desk, tables and chairs remained, but Gressa’s personal things and documents were gone.
The upstairs apartment had also been stripped of Gressa’s belongings. However, there was furniture in the six rooms, and no one had removed the beautiful stained-glass murals. Their intricate swirls of color captured and reflected the weak afternoon sunlight. Truly talented, Gressa had wasted her gift, letting her ego drive her actions.
Cobwebs and dust coated every surface, and the linens would need to be replaced. I left my saddlebags in the one bedroom and spread out my notes and files on the prison in the upstairs office.
Living here would take a while to get used to, and I needed to change the locks and buy an extensive list of items, yet I felt…comfortable. Strange.
It was seven days into the warming season, and instead of meeting me at the inn per our routine, I had asked Nic and Eve to come to the factory in the morning. They were unhappy with m
y new location.
“Do you like being an easy target?” Nic asked. “There are too many points of entry, it’s too big to guard effectively and the neighborhood is too deserted at night.”
“You’re right,” I said and laughed at his shocked expression. “But I’m not moving. Can you make it safer for me?”
He grumbled and hedged and finally agreed to try. We walked to HQ and joined in with the morning training. While we practiced, a large group of men and a few women arrived. They bustled about the west end of the building, carrying shovels and pushing wheelbarrows.
“Construction crew for the expansion,” Eve said.
And jobs for the fired guards. I scanned the workers, looking for Cole’s cousin. Even though the prison guard at the Spotted Dog hadn’t taken me up on my offer, I had located his cousin, securing him a position with the crew. “Who are the people in the blue jumpers?” I asked.
“Prisoners,” Eve said.
“From Wirral?”
“That would be unwise. And I’m starting to think you’ve been hanging around Nic too long.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nic asked her.
“It’s called thinking before speaking. You ought to try it sometime. It’ll reduce the number of bar fights I have to break up.”
Before they could launch into an exchange of insults, I stepped between them. “Prisoners from the low security prison?”
“Yes, from Dawnwood,” she said. “The ones who have gained a certain amount of trust, and it’s also a way for them to give back to the community.”
I spotted a few correctional officers. Instead of helping with the construction, the COs watched the blue jumpers. Although they were armed, they were also outnumbered. “Aren’t they worried the prisoners will try to escape?”
“A few have tried over the years, but they earn points for good behavior and for volunteering for these work details. If they accumulate enough points, then their sentences can be reduced.”
(Glass #3) Spy Glass Page 9