by B N Miles
“I’m aware of that, sir. But something big is happening here, and Wen Bet is involved.” Jared leaned forward. “Why would the Medlar want to buy Dryad land, especially when the Dryads don’t want to sell?”
Wyatt stared at him for a long moment, his face serious and steady, then nodded. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
“Let me run this one down.”
“Fine. But be careful. If the Medlar are willing to punish their own over this, they won’t hesitate to come after either of us.”
“I’ll be fine, sir.” Jared tensed. “But will you?”
Wyatt laughed. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got friends. There’s a reason I’ve lasted so long here.”
Jared nodded and stood. He couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t worried for Wyatt, but he also needed to take on this warrant.
Jessalene wasn’t going to stop. And Jared knew he couldn’t hold his own curiosity back for much longer.
They had one lead. The Goblin landscapers might end up being nothing, or it might be something. Jared couldn’t tell just yet. But they’d run it down and see where it went either way.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Good luck.” Wyatt gave him a serious look. “I’m afraid you’re getting tangled up in something here, Jared.”
“I’m sure that I am.” He smiled and shrugged. “Feels a little too late to back down, though.”
“Maybe.” Wyatt shook his head. “Just be careful.”
Jared nodded and left his office. He walked back to his desk and leaned over the partition toward Harold.
“Hey,” he said. “You got the case file on that Elf, right? Wen Bet?”
Harold grunted something and held up a thin folder. “Right here. Why?”
“I’m taking that off your hands.”
“Really?” Harold perked up. “That’d be great. I hate these fugitive cases. I got bunions and a bad back and shit, I just can’t run anyone down anymore, you know? Just counting the hours until retirement.” Harold grinned and handed over the case file. It was relatively light for an Elf, considering there could be hundreds of years of information on the guy.
Jared took it. “Sure thing. I got some paperwork if you’re looking to stay busy.”
“Oh, nah. I got my own methods.”
Jared looked up and saw Harold open a game of minesweeper on his computer.
He laughed and sat down, the folder on his desk in front of him. He stared at it for a long moment, Wyatt’s warning ringing in his ears.
This was dangerous. No doubt about that. But he couldn’t let Jessalene run this case down on her own. He had to help her the best he could, and this was how it started.
Besides, Lumi set all this into motion, and now she’s paying the price for it. He couldn’t let that go to waste.
Damn it all. He’d gotten used to having Jessalene and Cassie around. He’d gotten used to feeling happy.
But it was back into the fire now.
4
When Jared got home from work, he found Jessalene deep in concentration. She was in her usual spot, typing away, and she didn’t even look at him until he dropped the folder in front of her. She started a little and said, “What’s this?”
“That’s the case file for the fugitive Wen Bet.”
She stared at him then gazed down at the folder. She reached out and picked it up gingerly. “I thought you were against this.”
“I am,” Jared said. “I need you to be sure about this, Jessa.”
She bit her lip, staring at the folder. He watched her carefully. He knew she cared about Cassie just as much as he did. He’d caught them playing alone together a few times.
Which didn’t bother him. He’d been caught playing with just Jessa and just Cassie on more than one occasion. Usually, the third wheel just joined in the fun.
The limits of their relationship were interesting. He’d never had two girlfriends before. Cassie seemed to be the driving force behind things, setting boundaries, establishing how it all worked. As far as he could tell, they were all exclusive to each other, but there were no limits to how they acted within their little group. Jared could sleep with either Jessalene or Cassie whenever he wanted, or he could sleep with both of them at the same time.
He usually chose both of them.
He realized that was what happened when everyone trusted and loved each other. It didn’t matter how unconventional things were, so long as everyone was committed, everyone was happy.
Jessalene picked up the case file and opened it.
Jared went into the kitchen while she read. He opened the stainless steel door of the fridge, pushed aside the Chinese food takeout containers, and found a beer in the back. He twisted the cap off and took a long sip, closing his eyes for a moment.
“How’s she doing?”
He opened them as Cassie came over. She got up on her toes and kissed him. He grabbed her, pulled her against him, and kissed her harder.
She purred into that kiss.
“She’s fine,” he said. “Just gave her the case file.”
“So we’re doing this, then?”
“I don’t think there was ever a question about it.” He frowned and shook his head.
Cassie took his beer and drank some. “I’m glad. I didn’t want to be the reason you held back.”
He frowned at her. “You weren’t.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Look, Cass—”
“Jared.” She frowned at him. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Fine.” He took his beer back. “Your status here is really, really precarious. If we do something to piss off the wrong people, you could get sent back.”
“If that’s true, I don’t see why I’m here at all then.”
He shrugged and took a long drink. She had a point there. “I think it’s because you’re listed as an important asset for the Marshal Service. That gives you a little more legitimacy and weight. The Medlar can’t just revoke that without people asking some hard questions.”
“I’m protected then.”
“For now. They might decide the questions are worth it though.”
She sighed and leaned against him. “We have to help her, you know.”
“I know.” He kissed her head. Her hair smelled like fresh rain. “And we’re going to.”
Jared put an arm around her and hugged her tight. She stole his beer again, took a sip, and gave it back. “I’m cooking again,” she said. “So be hungry.”
He grinned and kissed her, letting his lips linger. “Always am.”
“Careful, you’ll make me swoon.”
He laughed, grabbed another beer, opened it, and left the kitchen. Jessalene’s face was shoved in the folder as he sat down next to her and offered her the drink.
She took it. “Look at this,” she said. “The Meta Department has Wen Bet’s age listed.”
He looked at the number and whistled. “That’s old.”
“No kidding. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of an Elf this old before.”
“They exist,” he said. “I’ve seen a few files.”
“But it’s rare, right? I mean, a few hundred years, sure. Maybe a thousand. But three?”
He took a breath and shrugged. “Three thousand years is a long time,” he said.
“Can you imagine?” She stared at the page. “Three-thousand-years-old. Only to get taken by Goblins.”
“We don’t know that’s what happened.”
“Come on. He didn’t need landscapers.”
Jared held up his hands. “I’m just saying. It looks suspicious, no doubt. We’ll track this down. But it could be a dead-end. I need you to be prepared for that.”
“It’s not.” She frowned at him.
He took a drink of his beer. “Jessa, listen. I’ve worked a few of these cases before. Sometimes, they’re easy. But sometimes, when a Meta really doesn’t want to be found…” He shrugged. “Wen Bet is three-thousand-years-old, and he’s an Elf. That mean
s if he doesn’t want us to find him, then we won’t find him.”
She shook her head. “He didn’t want to disappear.”
“Maybe. We just don’t know what happened yet. I’m trying to manage your expectations here. The Goblins could be involved, or they could’ve just been there trying to sell him bird shit as fertilizer.”
She chewed on her lip, picked up her beer, and took a long drink.
Jared watched her as she looked over the file. He could tell she was deep into this, and nothing he said or did was going to pull her back out. Not until they were in the field, tracking Wen Bet down, at least.
“We’ll check them out tomorrow,” he said. “Okay?”
She looked at him and grinned. “Okay.”
“Get the address.” He put a hand on her knee. “Cassie’s cooking again.”
“I love that girl.”
“I do too.” He smiled then kissed her. “And you, too.”
“Yeah?” She smiled back and reached out, touching his face. “I’ve seen you studying lately.”
“You noticed, huh.”
“Jared…” She trailed off. “You don’t have to use magic, you know, if you don’t want to. I know Cassie likes it when you do, and I can’t pretend like it’s not the best sex of my life after you’ve used some magic, but I’m just saying.”
“It’s okay.” He kissed her again. “We’re going to need it. And honestly, I’m ready to start over. With you two, it’s… it’s a lot easier. It feels good to use my power again.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” She kissed him one last time then turned back to the file. “Now go away. I have to read all this.”
He laughed and stood. He finished his beer and went upstairs to get changed. On the way back down, he brought the family grimoire with him, just a little light after-dinner reading. It had a plain white and blue cover with the words BECHTEL splashed across the top. It looked more like a college textbook than an ancient tome of arcane knowledge.
He knew that no matter what they did, the Medlar were paying attention to their little family now. And that meant they would need all the firepower they could possibly get. He wasn’t about to let the Medlar ruin everything if he could help it.
Dinner smelled amazing, and both the girls smiled at him as they sat down to eat.
5
“This feels like the old days,” Cassie commented as Jared drove his plain black sedan through the crowded Philadelphia streets, heading north. Broad Street was unusually crowded, and he kept his eyes on the sidewalk for any pedestrians that wanted to make a run for the other side.
“That was just a few weeks go,” Jessalene said from the back. She had her phone out and was still researching their landscapers.
“Still, those were the good old days.”
“The good old days?” Jared glanced at her. “Oh right, when you might’ve been kicked out of this universe at any second and we were chasing after a Need-crazy Dryad with magical powers way beyond what anyone should ever be capable of.”
“Exactly.” She beamed at him. “We make a great team.”
He sighed and shook his head. “This won’t be like that,” he said. “We’re keeping this routine.”
“Routine?” Cassie cocked her head. “What’s that mean?”
“We’re doing it by the book. No more going off half-cocked.”
“I never go off half-anything.”
“You know what I mean.” Jared stared straight ahead as they merged onto the expressway that ran along the Schuylkill River, moving away from the city. They passed alongside Boathouse Row, the beautiful old buildings decorated with streamers and banners, perched just alongside the slow-moving river. They had peaked roofs and archway openings on the water for the boats to slide in and out of their dockings. “Look, things are precarious for us right now. The Medlar still aren’t happy with anything we’re doing, so if we want to solve this case, we need to be smart about it.”
“That’s why we have you,” Cassie said. “You’re the moral compass.”
“Doubt that,” Jessalene said from the back.
“Okay, he’s at least the compass that won’t let us do something really, really stupid.” Cassie shrugged. “Close enough.”
Jared sighed. He didn’t want to have to be the one to keep Cassie and Jessalene in line, but she was right.
Cassie wasn’t so much his worry, though. She could be a little impulsive and dangerous when they were threatened, but for the most part she kept it under control. It was Jessalene that made him worry. She had a lot at stake in this investigation, and she had made it clear that this was personal for her.
Making it personal is always a bad thing.
The conversation died down as Jared steered the car off the first exit and into a little town called Glenside. The Goblins worked out of what looked like a garage on Google Maps, tucked away in the back of an old suburb. As they drove down the main street and past a small college on the left with gothic-style buildings, Jared wondered if this little lead would even pan out.
They were chasing ghosts. If he were in charge of this investigation from the start and he wasn’t going off of what Jessalene said, he probably wouldn’t have taken the word of some local kids. Memory was funny like that; even the best memories were hazy and prone to failure. Memory could be full of gaps, infections from other memories, turning a yellow car blue or a tall man short. It was incredibly unreliable, and kids were even worse.
But memory was all they had. So Jared drove the car past some cute shops with old furniture and hanging wind chimes, a strip of restaurants and second-hand stores, and an old fashioned pub on the corner with a large sign out front that read Glenside Tavern. He turned left at a stoplight, drove past a train station, a flower shop, more houses on the left, and finally came to a stop outside of a large garage that sat just at the corner of a bend in the road.
Lawn mowers were parked out front in various stages of disrepair. The building itself was beige colored with stucco siding. The roof looked like it needed new shingles, and the windows were plastered over with paper of some kind, blocking them out entirely. There was nobody around as Jared pulled into the lot and killed the engine. The sign above the door read Big Roots Landscaping.
“All right,” Jared said.
“So Goblins live here?” Cassie looked around, frowning. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Have you met a Goblin before?”
She shook her head. “I guess not.”
“They’re not so nice,” Jessalene said, getting out. “You’ll see.”
Cassie gave Jared a look. “She’s not happy,” she said.
Jared sighed, nodded, and got out to follow Jessa before she could do something stupid.
She walked up to the door and knocked. Jared heard Cassie get out and follow them. He stood just behind Jessalene as she knocked again. After a few silent moments, she tried the knob. It turned and she pushed the door open.
“If it’s unlocked, we can just go in, right?” she asked.
Jared sighed, but she was already stepping into the space. He followed her through the door.
The garage was dimly lit, just some natural light struggling in through the papered-over windows. There was a small desk just across from them, cluttered with books, scrap paper, spare car parts, an old tire, and a rusted-out birdcage. There was a bench to their left, and an old pin-up style calendar for 1997 on the wall to their right. The ground was stained with grease and oil, and a puddle sat in the far corner, right next to the desk. Nobody sat at the desk, and Jessalene craned her neck around the partition and into the main garage.
“Hello?” Jessa called out. Jared moved beside her and took a look inside.
It was packed with more tractors. Trimmers of all shapes and sizes were lined up along the far wall, some of them broken open. Jared stepped past Jessalene, scanning the space, trying to feel for any auras or any touch of the priori. The floor was bare concrete an
d heavily stained beneath the defunct tractors. Some were riding mowers and some were push, but most of them were red, which meant that Big Roots specialized in just one particular brand.
He heard a noise toward the back of the room, coming from a door that led to the back of the building. Without thinking, he reached for the shield memgram, the glass reverse-shattering to form an iron-hard diamond sphere in his mind, but he didn’t snap it home. He held the priori in his body, waiting for the moment to release it.
But a person stepped out from behind a pile of old computer parts, more tires, and what looked like half of a wheelbarrow a few feet from the door. He was short, no more than five feet tall, with a pale, bald head and a skinny frame. His baggy pants hung off his body, and the t-shirt he wore was two sizes too big.
“Excuse me,” Jared said.
The guy didn’t look up. Jared felt the aura then, crawling down his spine. It felt like spiders pushing their way up from the earth, struggling toward him, desperate to crawl down his throat. He almost gagged and forcibly pushed the aura away from him.
Jessalene walked over, picked up a piece of metal piping, and bashed it down on a rusted tractor. The loud clang made the little guy jump. His eyes grew wide and he froze mid-stride. He stared at the three of them before slowly taking off a set of old black earphones with foam padded drivers.
“Uh, hello,” he said.
“Sorry.” Jessalene dropped the pipe with a clatter. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Jared winced and stepped toward the guy. He was a Goblin, all right. His eyes were brown, nearly black, and a little too big for his face. His mouth hung open in surprise and Jared could see the razor-sharp teeth. Some Goblins wore false teeth to cover their real ones, but being alone in his lair, he probably didn’t bother.
“Who are you?” he asked, still frozen.
“Your door was open,” Jared said. “My name is Jared Bechtel. This is Cassie Grim and Jessalene Dorvahn.”