I paused because Devon was shaking his head. “I told you and your friends last week—we have cameras, but we don’t record or keep footage of anything inside. It’s for real-time monitoring only.”
“I just thought with—”
“I know what you thought, Jess. You thought I was lying. I’m not, sorry. For liability reasons, I would never record.”
I swore. Maybe that was true. Especially since the satyrs—or a satyr—regularly dealt F here. “I don’t suppose you remember seeing anything like I described, do you?”
“I can’t say I remember it, no. Do you remember what the symbol looked like? I might be able to help identify it.”
“Sort of.” I’d brought my drawing with me on the off chance I’d have something to compare it to, and I passed it to Devon.
He smoothed out the folded paper on the black bar table and examined it from different angles. “Interesting. Parts of it are similar to a very generic glyph for endurance, but then other parts… I don’t know what they could be.”
Endurance. Of all the symbols I’d looked up in the library earlier, that was one I hadn’t thought of. “It could be my lousy memory or lack of artistic talent.”
“I’d blame your memory over your skill, but it could be neither. That’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
Devon slid the paper back to me. “How much do you know about glyphs?”
“Only the basics. Lucen’s taught me a bit, and I learned a little at the Academy, but that was years ago.”
He sat back in his chair. “Glyphs are like all magic in that they depend highly on the skill and sensitivity to power of the person creating them. Even beginners can make basic ones, but it’s possible for someone who’s highly skilled and experienced to create their own—either from scratch, or more often from combining glyphs of known power into something new. How they get put together will determine their effect as much as the spell ingredients used to draw them.”
I closed my eyes in frustration. “So what you’re saying is—I have nothing.”
“You’re always the pessimist. No, not nothing. I can’t tell you if this glyph is causing the deaths, but if it is, that tells you a lot.”
“Such as?”
Devon got up and opened a fridge behind the bar. He took out two beers and handed me one. “If you’re going to make me do all the work, I should be the Gryphon consultant.”
“Excuse me for not having proper training in any of this shit. The Gryphons kicked me out, and I’m not a…” I twisted the cap off the bottle. “I don’t have a Dom teaching me Intro to Magic.”
Devon chuckled into his beer. “Now that’s a good visual of Dezzi. Can’t you picture her in front of a chalkboard?”
“No one uses chalkboards these days.”
“Really? Well, what do you want? I’m old.”
I paused with the bottle pressed to my lip. Devon was dragging this conversation a long way off track, but I couldn’t help myself. “How old?”
I wasn’t sure how long the average pred lived other than that it was far longer than humans. Their magic made them fairly indestructible and resistant to human diseases, but they could be cut down by the right weapons or curses, and isolation from humans could kill them too. They had multiple ways of starving to death.
Historically, I didn’t think many preds died of natural causes. Something—or someone—always got to them first. It was why they’d started to live in such tightly organized, hierarchical communities. For protection.
But that was then. Now, although they still lived in those communities, they’d wormed their way into human and magi civilization.
Devon’s blue eyes filled with humor. Any coldness he’d felt toward me when I’d arrived was clearly long gone. Possibly, he’d never been truly upset with me, or he’d simply amused himself long enough at my expense to let it go. “I’m old enough that I shouldn’t be here anymore. Let’s leave it there, and let me answer the question you really want the answer to.”
“What the glyph tells us?”
“Yes, and what the glyph tells us is—assuming it’s responsible—the person behind it is very magically skilled. That will narrow down your search considerably.”
I frowned. “If you’re implicating a human, yeah. But not if it’s a pred.” I was careful to say pred instead of satyr, although odds were it was a satyr. From Devon’s point of view, though, life would be much sweeter if it wasn’t, and I wanted to be on his good side.
For that matter, it would be better for me too.
“Either way. Many preds—” Devon said the word with the same distaste Lucen did, “—are better at magic than Gryphons because we have a greater sensitivity to it, but most don’t use it on a regular basis. It’s like any other skill. The more you practice, the better you get. Most preds don’t use it and wouldn’t be able to create their own glyphs. Whoever did is either a very powerful pred or a master charm-maker.”
I sipped my beer thoughtfully. If he was telling the truth, that would definitely narrow down the suspect list. Assuming I was on the right track with any of this. “I guess that’s something.”
“It is. Sorry I couldn’t be more help, Jess.”
I made a wry face. “I’m sure you are.”
“It’s the truth. Part of my job is to minimize the damage this could do to me and mine, and I don’t like to see collateral damage either.”
“Meaning?”
“You and Lucen.” I opened my mouth to object, but he cut me off. “You being a Gryphon, working on a case that on the surface involves us—it’s harsh. I get why the Gryphons wanted your help. Very slick of the Director there. And I’m going to guess none of your coworkers actually understand your tenuous connection to us or know about your relationship with Lucen. But it can’t be fun for you. I’d say this is about as unhealthy for a relationship as fast food.”
“This time I’m touched by your concern.”
Devon shoved his empty beer bottle aside. “You can lay off the sarcasm every now and then. I’m being serious.”
That was debatable. In my experience, a serious Devon was a pissed-off Devon.
“I just don’t like talking about this sort of thing.” Particularly with someone I couldn’t trust. “Don’t take it personally.”
“Fair enough.” He grinned. “Should I make a note of that too? Doesn’t like to talk.”
I punched his arm. “You know, this is why you’re impossible to take seriously.”
“I’m very serious. If you give me the chance, I’ll show you just how serious I’m willing to take you.” He draped the arm I’d punched around my shoulders.
My muscles tensed, not in fear but in anticipation as I breathed in his clove scent. Damn traitorous body. I scooted out from his grip, annoyed at myself. “Ha-ha.”
Before Devon could say or do anything else to mess with me, the sound of heels clicking and clacking echoed off the walls and ceiling. Lucrezia appeared around the partition that separated the long entry hall from the main club. Her bright red lips formed an “Oh” as she noticed me.
“Ah, Crezi, you’re here.” Devon turned his shit-kicking grin on her.
Lucrezia glared at him with the disdain she usually reserved for me. “Do not ever call me that again.” She tossed her long auburn waves over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at me. “What are you doing here, pet?”
I took a few steps away from Devon. “I had to ask Devon some questions about the case.”
Lucrezia clucked her tongue. “Honestly, hasn’t Dezzi made her feelings on your questioning quite clear?”
“Actually, Dezzi hasn’t said anything to me at all.”
“Really?” She climbed the steps up to the bar. “Perhaps that’s not so surprising. I hope her lieutenant has risen to the occasion then.”
Devon cleared his th
roat in an exaggerated manner. “Jess, in case you haven’t figured it out, we don’t like you questioning us.”
“Honestly.” Lucrezia crossed her arms, scolding him with her eyes before turning to me. “We’re looking into this ourselves. Believe us as depraved as you want, but we’re not killers or furies. We don’t enjoy death and destruction, and dead humans don’t do us any good.”
Lucen had once said something similar to me, back when the bodies of Victor Aubrey’s victims had started piling up. “I know that.”
“I like Jess’s new idea,” Devon said. “Jess, explain it to her.”
I wasn’t sure what good it would do, but for the second time in the last hour, I summed up my theory.
Lucrezia picked up my drawing of the glyph with a dubious expression. “That doesn’t look like a glyph so much as someone pretending to write Chinese.”
“But the idea has promise,” Devon said. “If it’s not the F that killed those people, then anyone could be doing it.”
Lucrezia set the paper back on the table. “It’s a nice idea for our sake, but I disagree. Two lovers at a train station with matching tattoos isn’t so shocking. Nor is people buying very temporary charms at Purgatory.”
Devon acknowledged the point with a shrug, but I snatched my drawing back, confused. “People buy charms at Purgatory? Since when?”
“Since always, pet. Cheap disguise charms to make themselves look different, or charms to make themselves appear more attractive, or energy boosters—they’re for sale if you know where to look.”
“But drawn on as glyphs? Those sorts of charms are usually sold in vials.”
Lucrezia inspected her nails, seemingly bored with my ignorance. “One vial can contain a lot of magic. If you only want something to last the night, you could have someone paint it on you for much cheaper.”
Devon pushed his hair behind his ears. “Fair point. But I still like the glyph idea, for what it’s worth.”
“Damn it. I thought I’d been on to something.”
“You might be.” Lucrezia didn’t sound convinced. “Find more victims with markings on them and you’ll know.”
“I’d rather not find more victims.”
She yawned. “Understandable. Personally, I’d rather not be here so early in the day, but since I am, can we get to work already?”
“Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re being kicked out, Jess,” Devon said. “Crezi and I have a complicated task ahead of us before the club opens in a few hours. Too bad Jess cut my snack short. I hope I have enough energy to get through it.”
Lucrezia frowned at him. “You’d better after dragging me out of my apartment before the sun set. I’m not even sure what we’re doing is necessary. The wards seem plenty strong to me.”
I folded my drawing and stuck it in my pocket. “Wards?”
Lucrezia walked away, making a show of ignoring me.
“Yeah.” Devon drew the word out. “The most restricted areas of the club are secured through wards rather than a typical security system. I have it on good authority that someone breached one of those wards in the basement recently. So we’re going to check and strengthen them all.”
“It’s a waste of time,” Lucrezia said without glancing back. “I told you. It’s not possible. There was no way anyone who wasn’t a satyr got through there.”
Devon slipped his arm around my shoulders again and lowered his head to mine. “So she keeps saying.”
I kept my face carefully neutral, but inside, my heartbeat stuttered, and it wasn’t from lust. Busting through the club’s wards like I’d done had obviously been weird, but the full implication of how weird hadn’t dawned on me before. Judging by Devon’s current behavior, though, weird was an understatement. And he wasn’t over it. No wonder he was talking to Lucen about me.
Also, just as interestingly, he must not have told Lucrezia about the incident. Who else hadn’t he told? And what, if anything, did he suspect?
“One of you must be wrong then,” I said when my breath returned.
“Possible.” He let go of me, and my shoulders sagged. Lucrezia had disappeared into the bowels of the club, and Devon walked me to the door. “Or possibly the human who managed this incredible act is more fascinating than I’d originally given her credit for. What do you think?”
A sense of relief washed over me as I crossed the threshold into the late-afternoon air. “I think I’m out of my depth. Have fun.”
Then I took a lesson from Lucrezia and scurried away without a backward glance.
Chapter Nineteen
“Rik left a message for you.” Lucen slid the words across The Lair’s bar like the shot of Jameson’s he’d poured me. I’d planned to ask for coffee, but since he’d poured without asking, what the hell. Liquid courage wasn’t a bad idea. “He said if you stop by around eleven, he’ll be available to trade.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding for the past week. “Awesome. Thank you, Eyff, for not being a total birdbrain.”
Lucen held on to my hand as I reached for my drink. “You look nice.”
He sounded more curious than complimentary, but hey, someone noticed. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, just as I wasn’t sure whether this evening counted as a date with Andre or not. Just in case, however, I’d figured ditching my usual jeans and a T-shirt for something less casual was prudent.
I gave his fingers a squeeze. “Thanks. I’m doing something I don’t usually do—being sociable.”
“I find you very sociable, little siren.” He released my hand, and I swished the ice around the glass. “And you socialize with Steph. Is that what you’re up to?”
“True, but no. I’m meeting up with a coworker.”
“A coworker? A Gryphon?”
I sipped my drink, wondering if it was normal to feel nervous about hanging out with a coworker. Or slightly guilty. “Yeah. I thought it might be a good idea to socialize with humans other than Steph for a change. It’s been a while.”
“Sounds very…normal. Are you feeling well?” He put his hand to my forehead.
I playfully smacked him away. “Normal is the idea. We’ll see if I can pull it off.”
“I’m sure of it. Is it this Bridget person you’ve mentioned before?”
“No, I’m not sure Bridget socializes any more than I do.” I finished my drink and spun the glass around on its pool of condensation. “His name’s Andre. He’s my partner on the case.”
“Ah…he is. The dressing up makes more sense.” Lucen swept my glass away before I could drain the melted ice.
Yeah, and… But Lucen didn’t give me the chance to retort. He was suddenly busy at the other end of the bar, and it was Paulius who asked if I wanted another.
I told him no thanks and left, wondering what that was about or if I’d imagined something. There’d been less mischievous teasing in Lucen’s comment than there’d been crankiness. Very unlike him.
That made two of us not acting like ourselves tonight.
I met up with Andre, and then we met up with two couples at a pub called Molly’s Tavern in Cambridge. The pub boasted authentic Irish cooking, and on Saturday’s, Irish music too. I was down with the live music, but I hoped the menu didn’t include things like corned beef and cabbage. I’d been forced to choke down enough of my mother’s authentic cooking for too much of my childhood, and I infinitely preferred Irish drinks to Irish food.
Andre introduced me to the other Gryphons, both of whom were there with their non-Gryphon partners—one who worked for the Boston PD, the other who was finishing up a Ph.D. at Tufts.
Kendra and Sara, the unmarried couple, were talking about neighborhoods since they were looking to move in together. “Jess, where do you live and do you recommend it?” Kendra asked.
I took a long draw from my Guinness. “I’m kind of not living anywhere right now. My
roommates got spooked by my involvement in the Victor Aubrey thing, so I’m staying with a friend.”
“That’s not fair.” Kendra was the Gryphon, and I had vague memories of her being one of the ones who’d tried to arrest me not long ago. That meant she’d probably seen me hit one of her colleagues with a chair.
Truly, it was amazing any of these people were willing to talk to me.
“So you’re apartment-hunting too?” Sara asked.
“Yeah, although I think I found a place this afternoon, or so I’m hoping.” Given the weirdness of my relationship with Lucen, hoping was an understatement. The apartment was small, but I didn’t need a lot of space, and the rent couldn’t be beat. I only needed the landlord—one of Dezzi’s satyrs—to be willing to give it to me. At the moment, I considered that no sure thing.
“Where is it?” Sara asked.
I wished the band would hurry up and start so I didn’t have to answer, but they were still setting up. “Shadowtown,” I said at last.
Kendra’s brown eyes bugged out over her beer. “You think it’s a good idea for a Gryphon to live in Shadowtown?”
“Is it a good idea for anyone to live in Shadowtown?” Sara asked.
So much for normal. I’d ruined any chance of pretending. “Technically, I’m not a Gryphon.”
“You are to them.”
Kendra had a point, but I shrugged it off. “I can afford it, and I can handle myself around them. Beats nervous roommates.”
Andre laughed. “You’re crazy, Jess. That’s why I like you.”
I supposed if I couldn’t fake normal, then finding a normal guy who liked crazy was the next best thing. The only question was—how much did I want Andre to like my style of crazy?
The question occupied my thoughts over the next hour as the band started to play and we all moved on to our second or third beers. If only all the secrets I hid didn’t make this so awkward, I could have had fun. But even with the beer fuzzing my brain, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t fit in with these people and we all knew it.
Dirty Little Misery (Miss Misery) Page 21