by WB McKay
While the process of clearing the scene had been efficient, something that involved still took a lot of time. It was nearly ten by the time they finished, and they'd been at it for a couple hours before I got there. With no trail to follow, there had been nothing for me to do but go over their information as it came in. They'd have more for me later.
I walked down the stairs of the museum with Owen at my side. "This is unnatural," I said, my hand pressed to my rumbling stomach. "There is no way I should be hungry for lunch this early in the day. Hell, there's not even any place that sells lunch at this time of day."
Owen's grin returned with a vengeance. "I know a place where we can get lunch, and it's not far from here."
It was my natural tendency to question something that made him so pleased with himself, but we'd been on quite a few dates since I'd decided to let him into my life and he hadn't steered me wrong yet. Besides, I was willing to do just about anything where my stomach was involved. "Should I get Bliss?"
"No, we can walk from here," he said, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Fine, I said, "but this is going to count as one of your choices for a date. That means I get two in a row after this."
"I can live with that." Owen turned a corner and stopped in front of a striking building made of shiny black stone and glass. A sign in swirly script declared it The Olendra Suites. A man dressed in a suit held open the door and smiled at Owen. "Good to have you back, Mr. Kinney."
"Hello, Leo." They broke into easy conversation that I didn't follow because my mind couldn't wrap around the fact that this was where Owen lived. I hadn't been there since I'd deceived my way into his bedroom. We'd traveled through the portal that connected his bedroom to his office at Smoke and Mirrors, the nightclub he owned. Entering through the front door of the building felt strangely intimate. He was bringing me to his home, right where people he saw everyday would see me. It wasn't like I thought Owen didn't want to be seen with me, but we were taking it slow, and so far our relationship had comfortably existed in its own bubble.
I hadn't bothered dating many people, but most of my relationships had stayed in that bubble where only myself and the other person ever knew we had dated at all. This was a step.
Owen wrapped up his conversation with the doorman. I had the feeling the conversation was common, but still somehow engineered to give me time to decide if I was comfortable. It was thoughtful, and typical Owen. "I'll have a guest," he said, gesturing to me. "Ms. Morrigan and I are not to be disturbed."
The phrasing made me blush, but the doorman nodded and gave me an appraising look before responding.
"Of course," Leo said, in a tone I couldn't decipher. "The staff is at your disposal. Call if you need anything."
Owen smiled. "We'll be placing an order for lunch momentarily. If you could let the kitchen know, I'd appreciate it."
Leo nodded and ushered us into the most luxurious lobby I'd ever seen. Normally, I would have been too engrossed in the details of the case to pay attention, but since the disaster with Clarissa, I'd changed my strategy. I was trying to be less impulsive, more patient. That meant I waited for the crime scene teams to provide their reports before I drew too many of my own conclusions. That left my mind mostly free to focus on Owen and the game he was playing.
I looked him over, noting the way he shifted uneasily from one foot to another as he pressed the button to call the elevator. He was usually so put together and confident. "Owen, I've already been to your place, remember?"
He nodded and stepped onto the elevator when it opened. He held the door for me and pressed the button for the penthouse. Of course he lived in the fanciest apartment in the already expensive building. "Yeah, that's the problem." He flicked his hands in an odd gesture, like he'd burnt them. "It didn't go so well last time."
I chuckled. "Well, if it helps, I don't plan on stealing anything this time."
His eyes snapped back to me and brightened. It was like clouds parting. "You'd better not. I had my whole library spelled after that little incident. You'd be turned to stone as soon as you left the premises with even so much as a bookmark."
I smiled, hoping to encourage him to do the same. I didn't like seeing him be so morose. I wondered where his mind had gone. We hadn't talked much about the mental state he'd been in when I'd rescued him from his cell in Faerie. "That seems a little excessive. You can already track your horde. Why the added security?"
"Because the last time somebody stole something, I was sent traipsing through Faerie," he said, a ghost of his usual grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. "It was an experience I don't relish repeating."
"But then you met me."
"Yes, and you're plenty."
The elevator dinged and he reached up and touched a white piece of glass on the button panel. There was a cheerful tone and the elevator opened into an impressive foyer with a beautiful light fixture that reminded me of ocean waves. On a small circular table sat an elegant sculpture of a sleeping dragon.
Off to my left were the kitchen and dining room. The kitchen didn't look like it got much use. With all the money he had, and a full service kitchen downstairs, it made sense.
Owen dropped his keys on a small table near the door and walked into the living room on his right. He settled onto a comfortable microfiber couch that looked out of place on the immaculate hardwood floors.
"Make yourself at home," said Owen, kicking off his shoes and putting his feet on the coffee table.
He was making a show of being relaxed, but I could tell he was still unsettled. I kicked off my shoes and unbuckled the harnesses that strapped my swords to my body and leaned them against a side table. "Nice place you've got here," I said, flopping onto the opposite end of the couch. It felt like heaven. I let out a heavy sigh and leaned my head back.
"Food's here," said Owen, a few seconds later.
I thought about that for a moment and frowned. "Did I fall asleep?" I wiped at my chin, relieved to find no drool.
"For a little while," Owen said, setting a plate with a burger and fries on the coffee table. "The couch is evil like that. It's why I bought it."
I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "Is it enchanted?" That would explain the out of place look. It was hard to find enchanted items with both the spell you wanted and the look.
"Nope, just good craftsmanship," he replied, squirting ketchup on his plate.
I looked around the room and then back to him. "Then why is it so..." I trailed off.
"Ugly?" he finished, with a chuckle. "Yeah, she is pretty hideous. This couch is the one piece of furniture in the place I picked out myself. The rest came with it when I bought it. There was a leather couch here before, but I hated it. It was comfortable enough, but it was always cold when you first sat on it." He patted the cushion next to him. "This baby though, she's in a whole other class."
The smell of the burger hit my nose and my stomach let out a loud rumble. "I appreciate you ordering food."
"Yeah, I like to live dangerously," he said, taking a bite of his burger.
I stopped in the middle of rearranging the lettuce and tomato and glared up at him. "I'm not that picky," I said with a sniff.
"That's a matter of opinion," he said when he stopped chewing. "This burger is good though. That's a fact."
I looked at it skeptically. It didn't look like much, but it did smell well-seasoned. I took a hesitant bite and groaned. "Now, that is magic. I don't care what you say."
I moaned the rest of the way through my burger, and was just finishing off my fries when my phone chirped. The crime scene reports were back. Attached was a message from Hammond admonishing me not to screw this up.
"Don't worry about him," said Owen, once again proving he didn't know what it was like to have a boss. "I'm sure you'll figure this thing out in no time. Then he'll have to recognize how amazing you are." Still clueless, but sweet nonetheless.
I patted him on the cheek. "I appreciate the vote of confidence." I
mentally congratulated myself on not saying something snarky. Something about Owen made me want to be nice to him--sometimes, anyway. "Now it's time to dig through this boring pile of shit and see if there's anything worth knowing in it."
"Don't they provide a summary along with it?" he asked.
"They used to," I said, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "After about the third time I chewed them out for coming to erroneous conclusions, they stopped doing it so I would leave them alone." I shrugged. "They have to do less work, and I don't have to be annoyed. It's a win-win."
Owen chuckled and pulled himself off the couch and gathered the dirty dishes. "That's quite a unique assessment of the situation."
"What can I say? I'm amazing," I said in my best cheerleader voice. I thought I heard him mutter something under the clatter of the dishes. "What was that?"
He didn't respond, so I let it go and worked on flicking through the documents on my phone. There were multiple pages explaining the magical methods the thieves had used to break into the museum. This had been planned. Different styles of magic had been required at each layer. Too much was done for only charms to be responsible for the magic. That meant one of two things. Either there were at least six thieves, but probably a lot more, or the thieves were a smaller group with access to a large variety of magics. Most fae only had one or two main types of magic that they could access directly. Any other magic they wanted to do had to rely on charms made by individuals with the right type of magic. There was one glaring exception to that rule: elves. Elves could access a variety of magics. They could do just about anything they put their minds to, but without the same amount of power that other fae could muster. It made them excellent at producing charms. They could create nearly any type of enchanted object. If it needed to be stronger, they just had to take more time to pour in enough magic.
I read deeper into the report and found little of use. I kept coming back to the descriptions of the magics that had been overcome in order to get to the scepter. It didn't seem likely that a large group could have passed through that many layers without triggering one of them and getting caught. That meant only a couple thieves, and that meant lots of charms, most of which would have been ridiculously expensive. They also probably would have taken months or longer to gather.
Unless the thieves were elves.
I wasn't sure how long I'd been staring at my phone when I looked up, but there was a twinge in my neck that told me it had been a while.
"You're really intense when you work," he said. "I think I could have set off a bomb in the next room and you wouldn't have noticed."
I looked at the coffee table and saw that our lunch dishes were gone, replaced by two plates. One held a piece of chocolate cake, the other a few brown crumbs. "Damn, I was really out of it. You ate your dessert and everything."
He grinned. "Yeah, but your tongue got a work out anyway."
I scowled at him in confusion. "What?"
Owen stuck his tongue out slightly between his lips and pulled it back in. He did that a few times, his face set in stern concentration. My mouth dropped open and I covered it with my hand.
"I do not do that!"
Owen rolled back on the couch, his head lolling from side to side in silent laughter. "Oh that's the best. You didn't know you do that?"
"I already said that I don't do that," I retorted through my fingers, my cheeks burning. "Now stop talking about it."
"Fine. I just have one last thing to say." He kept going before I could interrupt him. "I think it's incredibly cute and I hope that you don't stop."
The burning in my cheeks intensified, but I didn't respond to his statement. The only way I could speak was to change the subject. "I think our thieves are elves."
Owen's laughter was overtaken by a scowl. "What makes you think so?"
I explained my thoughts about the magic used to steal the Scepter of Sight and walked him through my thought process. He nodded along, his glower deepening with every possibility that I discarded until I was left with elves.
"So, the perfect little bastards finally have a fault," I concluded.
The Arbor, where I lived, was a community nestled in the arms of ancient redwoods. I was one of the few residents who wasn't an elf. The treehouses were fairly well separated, and I typically flew in rather than using the elevator, so I rarely saw my neighbors. What little I did see annoyed the hell out of me. Every single one of them was endlessly polite and considerate, no matter how rude I was in return. They were tall and willowy with perfectly manicured white-blond hair. It was like walking around on the set of America's Next Top Model, only everyone was nice.
"Elves are far from perfect," Owen said, his knowing smile accompanied with a slight coloration of his cheeks.
"I take it that means you've dated an elf?" I asked. It wasn't some far-fetched conclusion. Owen seemed to know a little bit about everything, and sometimes I wondered if that was simply because he'd slept with fae of all backgrounds.
"Yes," he said tentatively, confirming my suspicion that it had been more than one. "They can be very avaricious and competitive. They put on a good front, but behind the scenes, they're as messed up as the rest of us."
I let out a small sigh. "That's good to know. Maybe I'll make a little effort to actually talk to that neighbor couple that's always talking at me when I run into them." It sounded like a lot of work, but maybe they could give me some insight into this case. "At least I'll try to say hello back to them, firm in the knowledge that they'll probably go back home and have a raging fight over my sudden change in mood."
Owen chuckled. "You are a complex person, Sophie Morrigan."
I shrugged. "Aren't we all?" The more I saw behind Owen's playboy exterior, the more I thought he was every bit as complex as I was, as evidenced by the heavy old book I now noticed in his lap. "What's that?"
"I did some research of my own," he shrugged. "I wanted to be useful."
"You are useful," I said. "Did you find anything out?"
"I found some things. I don't know if it will be useful or just interesting. For starters, the scepter is one of a kind. There is no record of its maker or details of its origin in any form, but I can say with confidence that it is very old. There is record of it being used only once."
"What happened?"
"The incident went unreported for too long and there were too many memories--with too much--to handle them all. The human village was destroyed."
"Oh."
"After that the scepter was locked away for centuries, until the threat it represented wasn't taken as seriously any longer."
"And then your parents bought it."
"They traded for it, and then placed it in the museum, where it has now been stolen. Look here."
"He showed me a detailed drawing of the scepter. I saw an orb with a stick stuck into it. Owen saw so much more. He pointed out the engravings on the side and talking about the craftsmanship like it was the most interesting thing in the world. And it was interesting, though more for its magic than the year the engravings were added and the fae who'd owned it over the years. Owen loved this stuff. Maybe it wasn't so awful that his mom made him join the case. He didn't seem miserable.
"How is the scepter activated?"
"Oh, it's not," he said. "The Scepter of Sight comes in two pieces. The orb on top is the glamour breaker. The handle below is a dampener. All you need to do is unlock and twist apart the two pieces and the orb will do its work. It's simple, for such an awful lot of trouble.
"That happens a lot," I said. "Okay, enough." I stood up and nodded at the door. He got the message. We'd spent enough time poring over data. It was time to get to the real work. Except I didn't have any idea where to start. Interrogating my elven neighbors was pointless. The Arbor was what amounted to a high class subdivision in human terms. Even if my neighbors themselves were thieves, they were unlikely to tell me which way the wind blew, let alone anything useful.
Normally in these scenarios I would head t
o the black market in Paw Paw, but it had closed up shop the night Clarissa had tried to kill me there. We still hadn't located the new place it had opened up in. That left Ava and her ghostly sources, but I was fairly certain she wouldn't have any input on this case, and I really didn't want to force anything between her and Owen if I didn't have to. They were talking now, for the first time in a long time, but the situation felt fragile. They should be allowed to work out their relationship on their own terms. Plus, Ava hadn't been doing so well since she'd been trapped in a pixie pocket. Foisting a case on her seemed like a bad idea.
That left me at the mercy of Owen's ideas. Which left us wandering through a seedy part of Volarus I'd never been to. I usually avoided the city unless it was to come to the MOD offices. The city was comprised entirely of fae, and I got tired of constantly being asked what I was because my magic smelled funny. Besides, I wasn't a big fan of people in the first place.
"If the thieves are truly elves, they have to be in a desperate financial situation," said Owen. "Elves don't do anything for themselves unless they have to. It's how they maintain the perfect image you're used to seeing. They hire out for everything. Their lifestyle requires a great deal of money."
We walked quietly while I digested that. I had never dealt with elves at work before. Perhaps that was because they hired others to steal their treasures and did a good job of not attracting attention once they had them. "Then what brings us to this fine neighborhood? It doesn't look like any self-respecting elf would be caught dead here."
Owen turned a smile on me, his green eyes sparkling. It was the look he always got when he thought himself particularly clever. I didn't know if he knew that was one of my favorite things about him, and I certainly wasn't going to tell him. His head was big enough. "They definitely wouldn't want to get caught here. This is where you go in Volarus if you are having money troubles and can't, or don't want, to go to the banks. The harpies have cornered the market on discrete money lending."