“Until Olef arrives…” I hesitated for a second, letting my thoughts gather, and that was all it took.
I lost control of the meeting.
“I want to know in excruciating detail how this woman could have stumbled upon such a far-reaching and highly unlikely idea,” Xander said.
At the same time, Claudius jumped in. “What sort of proof do we have for any of this? Some magi mumbo-jumbo? The word of a girl with no magical training?”
“Girl? Really?” I threw him a sharp look across the table.
The room erupted in accusations and arguments. Xander wasn’t convinced of the seriousness of the problem. The goblins accused the Gryphons of holding out on key information. Claudius was obsessed with my role, and in disbelief that I should be involved in any way. Meanwhile Lucen defended me and tried explaining my past, and as for the Gryphons, they volleyed with the goblins and urged Xander to cooperate.
Only the harpies were mostly silent, but their heads swiveled from speaker to speaker like they were watching a tennis match. Soon enough they too would pick sides, most likely that of the satyrs who they’d historically allied with.
I felt a headache coming on. This was why I needed Olef. He was one of the magi whose visions of me surrounded by burning cities gave credence to the old prophecy. He was the one who could explain everything in a calm, logical manner.
The throbbing in my temples worsened until I smacked my hands against the table and stood. “Enough!”
I yelled so loudly that everyone on this floor of the hotel must have heard me, but it worked. In the momentary shocked silence that followed, I seized the floor again. “We’re here to share what we know and discuss strategies. So let’s start by reviewing what we know so everyone knows what everyone knows. If you have questions, save them until the end.”
I paused for breath, and Dezzi passed a water bottle my way. “Go on.”
I appreciated the support, regardless of why she might have offered it, but I didn’t miss the way Claudius narrowed his eyes at her in disapproval either.
Taking a deep breath, I sat. “So, since the last time some of us met, a few facts have been confirmed. Every couple hundred years, a magi has had a vision of cities burning. Olef is the most recent magi to have done so, and he’s recognized me in his vision. Enough of these visions have occurred that the magi call them a prophecy, and as of today, two cities have burned in magical fires caused by nonhuman riots—Buenos Aires and Sydney. Boston was almost a third.”
“Parts of Boston did burn.” Xander stared at me accusingly, as though what the furies had done were my fault. “Millions of dollars in damages. Lives lost. Are you forgetting that?”
My hands balled into fists, but Lucen responded before I could. “No, but it could have been a lot worse if Jess hadn’t stopped the furies.”
I let out a breath, imperceptibly I hoped, although the preds would all be well aware of my frayed temper. “Yes, what happened in Boston is a tragedy, but it never reached the scale of Buenos Aires or Sydney. Moving on. The Gryphons took the prophecy seriously, and they created me, and four others like me, with rather unique satyr-like powers in response.”
Claudius snorted at the satyr-like part.
Temper, down.
More deep breaths. “There are two of us left.”
“Three,” Tom said.
“Oh? You’ve found Mitch?”
He frowned. “Not yet.”
“Then I stand by the two.” I took a sip from the water bottle, wishing fervently that it contained coffee. Preferably coffee spiked with whiskey. “I’m assuming everyone here knows the Vessels of Making were basically containers used to channel power into creating a magical prison called the Pit. According to lore, there were five Vessels used in making the Pit, and the Gryphons recently confirmed that the lore also states all five would be needed to open it.”
Ulan’s ears twitched. He was the tall High Council goblin, and he glanced between me and Gunthra. “The theory, as I understand it, is that you believe the furies are destroying these cities in order to channel enough of their brand of power to fill the Vessels.”
“Yes.”
Ulan made a noise that sounded like “Hmph.” I couldn’t tell if he didn’t approve of Gunthra talking to me, the theory or if he just didn’t like the sound of this.
No one should like it. According to Olef, the creatures that had been locked in the Pit weren’t even as human-friendly as modern furies, and modern furies were probably the least friendly of all the pred races. The descriptions I’d read of the originals in Tom’s history books made them sound like demons straight out of a horror movie.
“This is all very speculative,” Xander said, waving a four-fingered hand dismissively. “I don’t discount Olef’s vision, but I’d like to see some proof that these visions are related to the Vessels.”
Gunthra’s ears flattened. “One of my people saw the object, felt its power. It matches the description of the Vessels.”
“I’m hardly about to trust the word of a goblin any more than I would trust her word.” He motioned to me.
Peachy.
“So long as we’re voicing our concerns,” Claudius said, “I’m not sure I trust a magi’s hallucination. But even if it is true, what are we supposed to do about it?”
“Find the rest of the Vessels before the furies do.” Ingrid’s tone was remarkably controlled under the circumstances. “Exactly what we spoke to you about earlier.”
“A lot of work based on sketchy speculation.” Xander jumped up, the feathers on his head rising with him. “And what if the furies already have the others?”
Tom smacked his hand against the table. “That’s what we need to find out, ASAP. The sooner we stop bickering, the sooner we can make progress.”
“And assuming all this is true,” said Eyff, speaking for the first time, “where do we find these missing Vessels?”
“They can’t.” Xander raised his arms in defeat.
Tom sighed. “The Vessels have been lost for over a thousand years. The lore suggests each group involved in creating the prison took one with them, ensuring they would never be reunited. We don’t know how the furies might have gotten their hands on the one or two they did.”
“It seems unlikely they did then.” Claudius’s face was strained, and as I had last night at dinner, I felt a stirring of something in me that wasn’t my own. I wasn’t even sure what it was. Not lust, and not anxiety exactly, but something that made me suspect Claudius might know more than he was letting on. Interesting.
Lucen had said Claudius controlled whether he inflicted his emotions on others, and maybe that was usually true. With pureblooded humans. But I was something else, and pred power affected me differently sometimes. In his agitation, could Claudius’s control have slipped? Was I feeling an emotion I wasn’t meant to feel?
Or was I the one having emotional hallucinations? Goodness knew I was stressed enough for such a thing.
Lucen tapped his fingers on the table. “Then there’s the mystery of the furies’ interest in Jess.”
I groaned. Here came more inexplicable weirdness to be met by everyone’s disbelief.
“What interest?” Xander yanked out his chair and sat back down, looking pissed off.
“One of the furies, the local lieutenant, said he didn’t want me getting hurt. He’s protected me on more than one occasion.”
The magi crossed his arms. “And you don’t know why, naturally.”
“I was hoping we could discuss theories.”
“Frankly, all we have here are theories supported by only the flimsiest of evidence. Without Olef, I’m not sure what there is to discuss.”
The shorter of the High Council goblins finally broke his silence. “I hate to concur with the magi, but he’s right.”
Gunthra paled. “I trust what my informan
t saw.”
“I’m not doubting your informant,” the goblin said. “Just the rest of this information.”
Devon leaned around Lucen toward me. “Are we having fun yet?”
I closed my eyes and silently swore, trusting Devon would gather the gist.
Him, and everyone else, making me long for an entire bottle of Jameson’s to drown out their noise.
And what noise it was. The arguing continued, much of it surrounding me and my role in everything. I wasn’t the only one starting to tune it out either. Tom’s phone buzzed, and he got up to take the call.
I watched him walk outside the room, envious of his excuse to leave and amused that he seemed glad for the chance. So, for that reason, when his emotions went into a tailspin, I noticed right away. Whatever news he’d received on that call couldn’t be good if I felt his frustration and anger so clearly.
I caught his eye and silently left the table to join him in the hall. He hung up as I approached. “Are you okay?”
Tom rubbed his eyes. “I’m fine, but we have a problem. Jessica, Olef is dead.”
Chapter Eleven
The floor dropped out from under me. That’s what it felt like. I actually pressed against the wall for support. I thought my spinning head might fly off in a million directions.
“Dead? No.” Olef couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t just that we needed him here—his knowledge and his calming presence—although we did. But I counted Olef as a friend. Not one I knew well, but one I’d known for a long time. He was a good person. Always kind, invariably helpful, and damn it—a good tipper too.
Of all the stupid things to remember. Shit. I felt sick to my stomach.
“The cops are on the scene already,” Tom was saying as he punched numbers into his phone. “Hold it together. I need to get us over there before they mess things up.”
Cops? Mess what up?
Before I could ask, the answer came to me like another blow to the head. It was obvious. Olef wasn’t merely dead. He’d been murdered, and quite possibly—likely—because of his involvement with this meeting. Had someone found out about it and tried to silence him?
That line of thought opened up a hundred new questions and problems, none of which I could deal with in my current state.
Olef. Dead. I was stuck on that, and my emotions seesawed between nauseated grief and searing rage in a way that totally did not help my head.
“Jess?” Lucen appeared in the hall, and he put a hand on my arm. “What happened?”
“Olef was killed,” I whispered, only belatedly wondering if Tom would be upset with me for sharing the news.
Swearing, Lucen wrapped his arms around me, and at the moment, I didn’t care how many Gryphons saw as I collapsed against him.
“He was a friend.” A friend, and we needed him. Though my chest hurt, I couldn’t overlook the cold practicality of the situation. Even with my head buried against Lucen, I could hear the arguments continue inside the conference room.
Without Olef, we were toast.
I took a shaky breath, realized Tom was watching me, and released Lucen. I had to get my head back in the game fast. “I want to be part of this investigation,” I told Tom.
He nodded slowly, sticking the phone away. “A team is heading over now. You should join them with me. Olef was searching for materials. It’s possible whoever did this might not have found them.”
Lucen didn’t let go of my wrists. “You’re certain Olef’s death is related to this?”
“I can’t be one hundred percent, but it seems likely. It’s clearly homicide from what I was told.”
I closed my eyes, hoping however Olef had died, it had been quick. Fear of the answer kept me from asking, but I’d find out soon enough. “First Mitch and I are kidnapped. Now Olef is killed. If we’re trying to be discreet, I’d say we failed.”
Tom’s frown deepened, but he didn’t disagree. “I’ve got to let Ingrid know. They can finish the meeting today without us.”
Lucen laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, I think they’re finished already.” He grabbed my hands as Tom returned to the room. “Are you sure you want to go?”
“Positive. I liked Olef, and let’s be realistic. We needed whatever he was researching. I have to go.”
He bit his lip. “I only ask because you’re upset, little siren. I don’t want you more upset by visiting the crime scene.”
“I can handle it. I want to be a part of this. I want to find whoever did this, and I want to kill them.”
Before they could kill anyone else involved. Like the satyr in front of me.
Since I was leaving with Tom, I was spared the annoyance of being tailed by my satyr bodyguards. We said very little on the drive. There wasn’t much to talk about yet, and I didn’t have much to say regardless. The nausea and dizziness of shock had worn off, leaving me with the awful empty numbness of grief and a slow, simmering anger.
Just as all preds lived in Shadowtown, the magi grouped together in their own neighborhood known as The Feathers. It was the very opposite of Shadowtown in every conceivable way, from the bright colors to the overwhelming filth.
Tom had to find parking a couple streets away, and we traipsed down the crowded sidewalks. The cacophony of bike bells and car horns and the cheery flags flying from the streetlamps got under my nerves. It was all too happy and normal. My emotions had been easier to control in the sterile, bland hotel, and again in Tom’s meticulously clean, gray car. I had to refrain from snapping at the people who brushed by me as we walked.
Thanks to the Gryphon SUVs outside, and the cop car that was pulling away from the curb, it was easy to figure out which building was Olef’s. It stood smack in the middle of a row of enormous Victorians that had been converted into apartments, a green-and-purple monstrosity complete with a turret.
It was also too garishly cheerful.
The front door was propped open, and I counted three mailboxes next to it. A cop met us in the tiny foyer. We flashed him our badges, and he pointed past a beat-up bike into a set of dimly lit stairs that had seen better days.
“Second floor. Your buddies are already here.”
The stairs creaked mood-appropriate background noise as we climbed, but voices soon drowned out the plaintive sound. The door atop the landing had been propped open, and I slipped inside the apartment after Tom.
Sadness hit me anew. This place was quintessentially Olef. Exactly as I’d have imagined it. Bookshelves lined every foot of wall space in the living room, each overflowing. More books cluttered the small tables, one of which was overturned, and still others were spread across the floor.
Overturned.
I paused, taking a closer inspection. Magi were generally a slovenly lot, but this seemed very not Olef-like. The books weren’t neatly stacked, but strewn everywhere, lying open, spines bent upside down, pages crumpled. Olef was a librarian, and he loved books too much to treat his in such a way, even if he shared the magi predilection for untidiness. “Whoever did this was searching for something. But did they find it?”
“Let’s hope not,” Tom said, and it was the last word he got out before two new Gryphons and an unknown woman appeared around the corner.
I ignored the woman, who was either plain-clothed PD or from the coroner’s office, and my eyes settled on one of the Gryphons. My unhappy stomach sank further. As if this situation wasn’t unpleasant enough already.
“Jess.” Agent Andre Pagan gave me an awkward smile. “Good to see you.”
Andre had been the Gryphon assigned to train me when I’d first been blackmailed into working for them. Tall, sexy and an all-around good guy, I once thought he’d be a great catch if I hadn’t had Lucen. But the case we’d worked on had nearly gotten us killed, and—perhaps worse—dealing with curses and satyr aphrodisiacs had gotten us both naked and into a very, uh, interesting situation.
I’d had to hit a naked Andre with a chair in order to save his life. That sort of behavior made things uncomfortable after the fact. To put it mildly. No matter how well we’d worked together until then, I’d known it would be the last time. I hadn’t gone out of my way to avoid him since, but I hadn’t searched him out either. Andre, I suspected, had been avoiding me. Blaming him for it wasn’t possible.
I returned the smile as best I could, and mine came out more sad than awkward. “So you’ll be the one investigating?”
“I’m usually one of the go-to people for magic-related homicides.” He sighed heavily. “I’m not necessarily seeing why we’re here though. This looks like a case for the regular PD.”
Tom held out a hand and introduced himself. “I requested your involvement because we have reason to believe what happened is related to a larger case.”
While introductions and other formalities were taken care of, I found a pair of gloves and slipped them on. A half wall to my right separated the kitchen from the living room, and I wandered over.
The kitchen wasn’t the same disaster as the living room. The sink and some of the appliances could have used a good cleaning, but I’d seen plenty of people with housekeeping skills just as poor. Nothing struck me as amiss. A bowl sat in the sink, and a soggy, used teabag remained in a mug next to an electric kettle. Dregs of tea water coated the bottom of the mug, but it was cold, the contents drank a while ago. So Olef had been alive and well this morning.
Andre watched me as I made my way back into the living room. “The real mess is in the office. Come on.”
The three of us squeezed down a narrow hall, past a dingy bathroom, and Andre gestured to the door on the right. “That’s the bedroom. It’s also been torn apart. But this is where the body was found.” He pushed open the left door.
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