Horn of Winter (Relic Hunters #5)

Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

“I suggest you do not give in to the temptation to pull that trigger,” Mathi said in a calm, somewhat dry tone, even as he edged slightly in front of me. “Because this woman is Sgott Bruhn’s adopted daughter, and I am the only son of Ruadhán Dhār-Val, and both those men could bring a whole world of IIT hurt down on you, your family, and whatever businesses you run if you decide to kill us.”

The big man studied us for several extremely long seconds, then took his finger off the trigger. He didn’t immediately lower the gun, however. “Prove it.”

I could almost hear Mathi’s eyes rolling. I dug my purse out of my handbag and showed the big man my driver’s license. Once Mathi had shown his, our stranger broke the gun open to make it safe, and took out the shotgun cartridges for good measure.

I didn’t relax. The anger remained in him, and while the gun was no longer loaded, it would still make a damn fine club.

“I’m Reginald Cowley. Why are you here?” His voice vibrated with anger and seemed to come from the depths of his boots. “What do you want?”

“What I’d like is an explanation as to why we were greeted with a shotgun,” Mathi said before I could say anything. “What we are actually here for are the details of your transaction with Riayn, and to ask whether you still have the horn in your possession.”

“That is a private contract between me and her. You have no right, and no authority?—”

“You’re right,” I cut in curtly. I was getting rather sick of people telling me that. “We don’t, even if we’re working with the IIT on a case involving the horn right now. So why don’t I just call Sgott Bruhn, and he can send a team out to do a thorough and complete search of your house, business, and acquisition records.”

Alarm flicked through his expression. Obviously, not all of his collection was legal. “Now, now, let’s not be hasty?—”

“Then start fucking cooperating, because people are dead and the horn is the reason.”

“You can’t think that I?—”

“Given you greeted us at the door with a loaded shotgun,” Mathi said in that same dry tone, “I certainly think we can.”

Reginald’s face lost more of its ruddiness. He muttered something under his breath, then stood to one side and motioned us in. “Second door on the left.”

I warily stepped past him, my gaze sweeping the hallway’s opulence, looking for anything in the way of magic and possible problems. There was no sign of magic, but there were a couple of security cams situated in strategic spots. He also wasn’t alone here, as there were several voices coming from the rear part of the house—a woman and a couple of kids, from the sound of it. Which, more than anything, had the tension within relaxing a little. Reginald might have a temper, but now that it had cooled, I doubted he’d cold-bloodedly murder us. Not with his family within earshot.

The second door on the left led into a study. There was a teak desk the size of a boat in the middle of the room, behind which were a plush leather chair and several glass-fronted antique bookcases that held a variety of leatherbound books, various old mugs, and other antique whatnots. There were no Viking items that I could see, and certainly nothing resembling a drinking horn.

Reginald locked the gun in a cabinet, then motioned us to sit in the chairs fronting the desk. I did. Mathi remained standing behind me.

Reginald steepled his fingers on the desk and said, “I apologize for greeting you in the manner I did, but I’m afraid when I saw your face in the camera, young woman, I saw red.”

“Why? I look nothing like Riayn or Vincentia.”

“After a more thorough look, I agree, but at first glance, through a tiny screen, there’s definitely a resemblance. Are you related?”

“Riayn is my aunt.”

“Then why are you here asking about the horn?”

“Because her records show you commissioned her some nine months ago to find it for your collection, and that the transaction was completed five weeks later, after she handed over one half of the horn.”

“All of which is true. I also commissioned her to continue searching for the remaining piece.”

“Then you still have your half of the horn?”

“I do not.”

“What happened to it?” I asked.

“What do you think happened? The bitch came here under false pretenses and stole it back.”

“Under what pretense?”

“She said she’d found the horn’s remaining piece, but needed mine to enter the underground chamber in which it was held. When I didn’t believe her and refused to hand it over, she pixied me.”

Is that why Stace had been in that chamber? Had she gone in with my aunt to dismantle the magic within the chamber so that Riayn could retrieve the other bit of horn? If she had , then why had my aunt killed her?

Even more interesting was the fact that, while she’d forced him to hand over the horn, she hadn’t taken that extra step and forbidden him to speak about either it or her. Did that mean she simply didn’t care anymore? Or was it more the knowledge she likely wasn’t going to get out of this mess alive, so it didn’t really matter?

“Do you know where she found your section of the horn?”

He shrugged. “Some private collection.”

“And she stole it from said collection?”

A smile briefly touched his lips. “I commission. I do not question methods. Why?”

I took out my phone, brought up the pic I’d taken of the plinth, and showed it to him. “It means she wasn’t actually lying about the other half of the horn, even if she used it as a ruse to get your half back.”

He sucked in a breath, staring at the image on the phone with more than a hint of avarice. “May I?”

I handed over the phone, and he spent several minutes examining the photo. “Solid gold, by the look of it. The plinth is also an unusual-looking stone, and the inscription not a language I’m familiar with.”

“It’s old Brythonic,” Mathi commented.

“Ah, that explains it.” He handed the phone back. “I take it the plinth remains where you found it?”

I raised an eyebrow. “If you’re thinking to acquire, I would not. Borrhás remains active in this world, and he would not be pleased with the desecration of his relic’s tomb.”

He stared at me for a second. “You’re serious.”

“I am. And the last person who abused Borrhás’s trust ended up entombed in ice.”

“But that’s just a legend?—”

“No,” I cut in. “It is not. When was my aunt here?”

He went back to scowling. “A good three weeks ago now.”

“And you did not think to report her theft?”

“I can hardly report the theft of what the police would consider stolen goods. Besides, for all intents and purposes, I gave the thing to her—and she has a recording to prove it.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t got this place lined with a multitude of charms and magic preventing such a thing from happening,” Mathi said.

“I have, but the woman who accompanied her obviously disarmed them.”

Was that woman Stace? Or someone else? Someone like Keeryn Gordan perhaps. “Did you get the other woman’s name?”

“No.”

“What about the house’s security system? Did it record the two of them approaching the house, or were you ordered to erase it?”

“The latter.” He smiled. “But there is a smaller, unconnected system within the vault. I was not ordered to delete that.”

“Do you still have the files? Are you able to bring up their images?”

“Indeed, I have them right here on the computer.”

“How convenient,” Mathi said, in a dry sort of tone. “I take it you’ve been canvassing revenge possibilities?”

“I merely wish a return of what I paid for.”

I daresay the collector Riayn had stolen it from was saying the exact same thing.

He turned the laptop around. The first image was definitely my aunt, but she looked older, more time-worn and ragged than when I’d last seen her. The woman standing to one side of her was the spitting image of Maran Gordan.

“Well, well,” Mathi said. “At least we now have confirmation that Keeryn is working with your aunt.”

“But not who the damn ice witch is.”

“Does that mean the ice events in Deva are related to the horn?” Reginald asked. “It does actually work?”

My gaze returned to his. “Yes, it does.”

“And it is for that reason you are unlikely to ever get it back,” Mathi said. “I would advise you to put in a compensation claim with the fae council.”

His demeanor instantly brightened. “Is that possible?”

“Presuming you have a full record of the transaction with Riayn, and the record of them forcing you to enter the vault and hand over the horn, it should provide plenty of justification for compensation. It would not be the first time the council has paid out to secure a dangerous relic from a so-called ‘legitimate’ owner.”

I motioned to the image on the screen. “Are you able to send that photo to my phone?”

When he nodded, I gave the number and, a few seconds later, my phone pinged several times.

“I included the shots of their number plate I got from the gate cam. That system is also separate.”

“Canny,” Mathi murmured.

“Careful,” Reginald replied. “Who do I have to contact regarding the compensation claim?”

Mathi gave him the details, then added, “Is there anything else you can tell us about the two women?”

“Riayn had acquired a limp, but other than that, no.”

Which confirmed my guess that the woman who’d spoken to our ghul the week before me was indeed my aunt. I rose from the chair. “If you do think of anything else, you have my number.”

He nodded. “Sorry about the gun. No hard feelings, I hope?”

Which was code for “please don’t report the incident to your adopted father,” I suspected. I smiled, said goodbye, and headed out.

Once we were back in the car and heading toward Deva, I sent a text to Eljin to let him know how far out we were, then another to Sgott detailing everything Reginald had said and adding the images. He replied, Seriously, you need to become a consultant once your relic hunting days are over, to which I responded, No thanks, I plan to settle down, run the tavern, and produce babies.

The latter of course being a long-term goal given, aside from the fact there wasn’t a man in my life I wanted to have babies with, I was barely even on the cusp of fertility. Both pixies and elves aged fairly normally until we hit our twenties, which was when the whole process came to a screaming halt—something scientists had spent forever trying to understand with no success. Pixies didn’t actually get periods or become fertile until we were at least one hundred, and for elves, with even their longer lifespans, it was a couple of hundred years later. We were, of course, as physically capable of having sex at the same age as any human—and thank fuck for that. Having to wait one hundred years before I could legally indulge would have killed me.

Darkness had set in by the time we arrived back at Deva. Mathi dropped me at the top of the lane with the promise to contact me tomorrow, then sped off. I jogged down to the back door, then quickly made my way upstairs, grabbing a shower, then stuffing a change of clothes and some toiletries into a small wheely suitcase to match the cover story we’d given. I also grabbed a couple of silicone gloves out of the kitchen to use if we happened to do a little breaking and entering.

It still wasn’t raining, despite the scent in the air, so I walked down to the small inn. Once again, it was packed. I scanned the crowd and found Eljin in a booth not far from where I’d sat last night.

“Hey,” I said, dropping a kiss on his cheek before sliding onto the bench seat opposite, “How was your day?”

“Slow and boring.”

“Slow and boring is a big part of an antiquarian’s job, is it not?” I picked up the menu and scanned it. It hadn’t changed in the twenty-four hours between visits, and I rather suspected that if I came back here in a year or so, they’d have the same items listed.

“Apparently, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He raised a hand, motioning for the waitress moving through the room. “How did your day go?”

“Found another dead body.”

He blinked. “Should I be worried about your propensity to find such things?”

I grinned. “Only if you turn out to be a bad guy.”

He laughed but didn’t reply as the waitress stopped and said, “Ready to order?”

I nodded and asked for the pork sausages, which came with applesauce, creamed potatoes, and steamed veg, while Eljin went for cottage pie.

“And drinks?” she added.

I hesitated, then ordered a large pot of tea. I would have liked a double whisky, but I was tired enough as it was. Alcohol was likely to send me over the edge.

As the waitress bustled away, Eljin leaned forward and caught my hands in his. “You look beat.”

I shrugged. “It was an early start and a long, somewhat unsuccessful day, and I really don’t want to go into all that right now.”

He smiled, though there was a flick of something—concern?—briefly in his eyes. “I managed to grab a look at the register when I was checking in.”

“And?”

“The woman in the next room is a Mrs. Rhonny Brown.”

I frowned. “Could be a false ID. It wasn’t like the owner asked me for ID when I booked.”

“No, and it’s also possible Mrs. Brown paid by cash. They did ask if I was paying cash or card.”

Surprise ran through me. “It’s rare for places to take cash these days.”

We did, but only because some of our elderly patrons still preferred hard currency over credit or debit cards.

“Depends, I guess,” Eljin said. “For small places like this, the credit fees could be the difference between profit and not.”

“Not when they have a pub attached that seems to attract a good nightly crowd. What are you working on at the moment?”

“Still cataloging Nialle’s bits and pieces. The man really seemed to prefer chaos over order, at least at the museum.”

I grinned. “Harder to steal what can’t be found.”

Our conversation moved on from there, and our meals eventually arrived. It was once again damn delicious, but the tiredness hit halfway through, and suddenly I couldn’t stop yawning.

“Sorry,” I said, covering my mouth for the umpteenth time.

“I think we need to get you upstairs and into bed.”

“We have a job to do tonight, remember?”

“Yes, and you’re not going to do anything in your current state. I’ll keep watch while you sleep, and we can swap over around four.”

Which would only give me five hours, given it was already close to eleven now, but it was hardly fair to let him do the entire shift when this was my idea in the first place.

“As long as you do wake me to take my turn.”

“Scout’s honor.”

Amusement lurked around my lips. “Somehow, I’m not really envisaging you as a Boy Scout.”

“In that, you’re definitely right.”

I signaled for the bill, and once paid, he picked up my suitcase and led me up the stairs to our room. It was low-key and quaint, with old-fashioned but pretty wallpaper, a comfortable-looking double bed, and a dressing table that also held coffee-and-tea-making facilities. The ensuite, while small, was perfectly formed and quite modern by comparison.

Eljin placed my bag on the floor next to his. “I actually have a couple of tricks up my sleeve to make things a little easier tonight.”

“Do tell.”

“First off, we break and enter. As far as I can tell, she’s not interwoven the building fibers to prevent entry, so we should be able to get in without her being any the wiser.”

“Just as well I brought some silicone gloves, then. I gather you’ve also checked for any security measures the building owners might have in place?”

“Indeed. And before you ask, yes, I’m quite capable of getting into that room without a key. We relic hunters have by necessity a wide range of skills.”

I smiled. Lugh had often spoken of said “wide range” of skills coming in handy on multiple occasions. “What if she’s got magical measures in place?”

“Your knives should give us warning of that, shouldn’t they?” When I nodded, he added, “If there are such measures, we still have option two in play.”

“Which is?”

“Good old-fashioned motion sensors. We lay one at the external exit and another at the top of the stairs, with the signals sent to my phone.”

“Won’t she see—or at the very least, feel—the weight of them through the wood song?”

“Not these ones. They’re miniaturized and have the weight and look of a freckle. They won’t affect the song.”

Meaning they likely used the same sort of technology as the bio trackers I’d run afoul of a couple of times, though bio trackers used the body’s natural electromagnetic field to fuel a constant, low-level signal that allowed tracking. It was doubtful a sensor could plug in to the wood song. “Will they last the entire night?”

“Guaranteed six hours before needing recharging.”

And using them would also give us backup if either of us fell asleep during our shift. “Let’s get this done, then, while there’s still people downstairs to cover any noise we might make.”

He pulled what looked like an Apple AirPods case—only slightly smaller—from his bag, then headed out, leaving our door open as he moved to the old staircase. After opening the little pod, he carefully picked up what did indeed look to be a largish freckle and placed it at hip height on a spindle a third of the way down from the top of the stairs.

“Okay, let’s test this thing.” He dug out his phone. “Head past the freckle, then come back up when I give the word.”

I did so and, when he nodded, clattered back up. As I passed the freckle, his phone rang softly.

“Perfect,” he said. “Let’s hit the rear door.”

He headed there while I went back into our room to retrieve a knife and the gloves. Once the second sensor had been placed and checked, I pressed the knife against the other room’s door. There wasn’t even the slightest flicker of light down the fuller.

I handed him a pair of gloves, then stepped back and motioned him to do his thing. He donned the gloves then pulled a lockpick out of his wallet—seriously, did all men carry one, just in case it was needed? Or was it just the men I knew?—and got to work on the door. He was a little slower than Mathi, but still pretty proficient.

After he tucked the pick back into his wallet, he dropped a kiss on my cheek and said, “I’ll keep an eye on the stairs while you check the room.”

As he walked back, I pulled a glove over my free hand and pressed the door open with my fingertips, watching the knife to ensure there was no magical reaction, then scanned the room to see if physical security measures had been installed. Again, there was nothing obvious. I tucked my knife into the back of my belt, took a picture of the room to ensure I left it as I found it, then moved in, putting on the other glove as I did.

There wasn’t much here—a smallish suitcase, a smattering of cords, an iPad on the bedside table, and a used coffee cup with a lip imprint sitting next to the kettle on the dresser. I walked over and bent fractionally to study it. Maybe it was my imagination, but it looked to be the same shade of red that both my mom and my aunt wore... along with thousands, if not millions, of others.

I carefully opened the dresser’s two drawers, but they were empty, as was the one underneath the bedside table. I walked over to the suitcase sitting on the far side of the dresser. The damn thing was heavy—unsurprising if she hadn’t unpacked—and hadn’t been locked. I took a photo of the inside of the case to ensure I could place everything back in its original position, then rifled through the layers, finding one of those travel jewelry organizers between her jeans and sweaters, and right down at the bottom, a phone. Given few people these days went anywhere without their phone, I suspected this was either a burner or had a specific usage, such as a direct connection to one person—the ice witch, perhaps.

I picked it up, but just as I did, it rang, the abrupt noise making me jump and drop the thing. Caller ID briefly flashed up on the screen and I managed to grab a photo before it faded. I pressed the home button to see if I could get in and see if a message had been left, but the phone, unlike everything else, was locked. I tucked it back under the clothes, closed the case and put it back into position, then rose and headed into the bathroom. There was a toothbrush and toothpaste, but little else. She was obviously using the provided soap, shampoo, and conditioner.

I brought up the photo I’d taken before I’d entered to ensure everything looked the same, then headed out and locked the door.

Eljin pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against and followed me into our room, closing and locking the door behind us. “Anything?”

“Found a phone at the bottom of her suitcase and took a pic of the caller ID when it rang, but other than that, nothing.”

“You didn’t recognize the phone number or the ID?”

“No, but I’ll get Mathi to trace it tomorrow.”

He frowned. “Why not ask Sgott tonight?”

“Because then I’ll have to explain why I was breaking and entering, and I just haven’t got the energy for that conversation right now.”

“Then get yourself to bed and get some sleep.”

Amusement tugged at my lips. “You don’t want to join me? We do have the phone alarm, after all.”

“Oh, I would love to join you, but if I did, sleeping would be the last thing on my mind.

“Maybe it’s the last thing on my mind.”

“She says through another large yawn.”

His tone was dry, and I laughed, dropping a quick kiss on his lips before turning away.

“Oh, my dear girl, do not think you’re going to escape that easily.”

He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, his fingers oh-so warm against my skin as he turned me around and pulled me into him. His lips claimed mine, the kiss fierce, demanding, and so very thorough.

Neither of us were breathing very steadily by the time he released me. “That probably wasn’t wise, but I do not for an instant regret.”

My gaze skimmed his length. “There are parts of your body disagreeing with that statement.”

“Luckily, the bigger head remains in control over the little.”

I laughed again and headed into the bathroom to use the facilities and do my teeth. I kicked off my boots, then stripped off to my knickers, tank top, and bra, and climbed into bed. I was asleep almost instantly.

To be woken by the soft ringing of a phone who knew how many hours later.

I jerked upright, my heart racing inside my chest and the knives and Eye ablaze. Eljin was sitting at the end of the bed, tugging on his boots.

“Did someone just walk through one of the sensors?” I whispered.

“Back door.”

I threw off the comforter and shivered my way into my jeans and sweater. I left the boots where they were and followed him across to the room in my socks, grabbing my phone, the keycard, and a knife on the way through. Hopefully I wouldn’t need the latter, but I still felt better with its weight in my hand.

Eljin gripped the handle but didn’t immediately open the door; instead, he pressed his ear closer and listened for a few seconds.

Then he swore, flung it open, and raced out.

I was right behind him. The door into the other room was open, as was the exit door, the metal stairs vibrating softly as someone raced down them. Eljin flew out after her, vaulted over the railing, and dropped to the ground below. I swore, caught the wind funneling in from outside, and ran out after him, reaching the top metal landing just as he pinned the woman front first against the exit gate and growled, “Don’t move.”

She didn’t, but magic rose in the air, sharp and dangerous. Dark purple light instantly boiled down the knife’s fullers and spread out into the night, reaching with lightning speed toward the spell being cast, cindering it before it could fully form.

The woman swore and cast a look over her shoulder.

It wasn’t some unknown woman called Rhonny Brown.

It was Keeryn Gordon herself.

And I couldn’t help the faint sliver of relief that ran through me. I wasn’t sure how I would have reacted had it actually been my aunt.

I walked down the rest of the stairs, doing my best to avoid the puddles. As I approached the two of them, her magic began to rise again.

I raised the knife and said conversationally, “I’m not sure what my aunt has told you about these things, but they are designed to protect me and kill magic. I’ve a theory that the latter also means it could kill the magic within a spellcaster if I stuck the knife into his or her flesh, and I really would love the opportunity to test that theory out.”

The spell died. She obviously wasn’t willing to give me that opportunity.

“I can’t tell you anything,” she growled.

“You don’t have to. I know who you are, and I know you’re working with my aunt. What I don’t know is why.”

“You killed my sister. Why would I not?”

“I didn’t kill your sister, greed did. She tried to claim a relic she wasn’t powerful enough to control, and it consumed her.”

Which was the truth, even if, in the end, it was me who’d sliced her in two.

“You lie.”

“No, but hey, you’re free to believe whatever you want, even the lies spouted by my aunt, who never actually witnessed what went on with the Claws or her daughter’s deep involvement with the people who eventually murdered her.” I drove the knife into the wooden door leading out into the street—silently but profusely apologizing to the fibers as I did so—then rang Sgott.

“I’ve just caught Keeryn Gordon,” I said the minute he picked up. “You want to come and collect her?”

He snorted softly. “Seriously, are you after my job or something? Where are you?”

I smiled and gave him the address. “We actually owe the ghul for this one—she gave the heads-up. In truth, I had thought it was Riayn staying here, not Keeryn.”

“Which is why you didn’t give me the heads-up,” he said, in a tone that was a mix of annoyance and resignation.

“I wasn't on watch alone—I’m not that silly.”

“I guess I should be thankful for small mercies, then. We’ll be there in ten.”

He hung up and I tucked my phone back into my jean’s pocket. Eljin glanced from me to Keeryn and back again, then raised his eyebrows in silent question. When I nodded, he released her and stepped back. Keeryn rotated her shoulders, took a quick glance toward the still-glimmering knife, and obviously decided not to do anything untoward.

“Why did you run?” I asked. “You barely even walked into that room.”

“I knew someone had been in searching the room.”

“How? There were no active warding spells, and I certainly didn’t see any motion cameras.”

If there had been the latter, why would she even have bothered to come back here?

“I used an old but simple trick—cotton thread lightly attached to a couple of drawers and along the base of the bathroom door.”

“I’ll definitely look out for that one next time I break and enter. Thanks.”

She didn’t look amused. “I’m not sure what you think you’re achieving by handing me over to the IIT. They’ve no proof I have, in any way, been involved in recent events?—”

“Actually, they do.” I gave her a not-so-sweet smile. “Remember that attack at the cemetery, the one where you and your team tried to kill Mathi and me, and you then killed said team?”

“ I did not. You can’t pin that on me.”

“Well, technically no, because we’re aware they were pixied into shooting themselves and that’s not a skill you possess. Thing is, we found several strands of hair hanging from a tree branch, and I’d bet a million that the DNA will be a match for yours. That puts you at the scene of the crime and, at the very least, makes you an accessory.”

She scowled at me but made no comment. Sirens swept down the street toward us, then cut out abruptly. I pulled my knife from the door, quickly brushed my fingers across the wood to heal the wound so the song could continue on unhindered, then swiped my keycard across the reader and opened the gate.

Sgott and Frankie strode toward us, while two others I didn’t recognize were taping off the street.

“Hey,” Frankie said, tone amused. “The boss tells me you’re joining the force as a consultant.”

“The boss knows that’s impossible.”

“The boss knows no such thing,” he commented. “You’re too much your mother’s daughter, my girl. Once this gig with the council is over, you’ll be looking for something to replace it.”

“Not on your Nelly.”

He raised an eyebrow in obvious disbelief, but simply stepped past me and pulled rather odd-looking handcuffs from his jacket pocket. The cuff on these weren’t the standard double-strand metal, but were instead a good inch thick and emitted a soft aura of magic—one that increased the moment he snapped them around Keeryn’s wrists. They were obviously inlaid with some sort of inhibiting spell.

Once she was secured, he stood back and motioned Frankie to take her away. Then his gaze returned to mine. “I take it you’re staying here, and that you’ve been in her room?”

“Yes to both, though I wore gloves, so I didn’t leave prints.” I raised my hands and wiggled my fingers, even though my hands were actually bare. “She’s got a locked phone buried under the clothes in her suitcase that might throw up some leads. There’s also an iPad. Which reminds me, I’ve also got Stace’s iPad—we searched Riayn’s home after we found Stace in that cavern.” I paused. “I suppose it’s too early yet for an autopsy report?”

“Yes, although I am expecting it will come through in the next twenty-four hours.” He glanced around as one of his men approached. “Rick will take your statements, and I’ll drop by sometime tomorrow to pick up Stace’s iPad. Keeryn’s room is where?”

“Up the stairs, first door on the left.”

He nodded and headed up the stairs. Once Rick had taken both our statements, we headed back to our room, closed the door, then stripped off and climbed into bed. With all the noise next door, I didn’t expect to sleep, and I certainly wasn’t about to have sex—maybe I was being a little prudish, but I just didn’t feel comfortable when the man who was basically my father was working next door and the walls were paper thin.

Eljin seemed to understand without me saying anything, and simply cradled me in his arms until sleep claimed us both.

I got back to the tavern at ten and headed straight to the office to do the accounts and make sure everyone would be paid on time. Thankfully, Ingrid was now taking care of the stock orders, so that was one less thing I had to worry about. One of Sgott’s men came in at about one to pick up Stace’s iPad, by which time the headache that had been with me since waking had definitely worsened. I walked down to the staff break area to grab a couple of painkillers out of the medical kit, then went into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich and a cup of tea before returning to finish the accounts.

It was close to four by the time I was done, and the headache was finally beginning to abate. But as I headed upstairs, an odd sense of... awareness?.. surged. I slowed, put my overnight bag down, then reached into my purse for a knife. The blade was inert, but that prickly sense of awareness was growing. I warily continued, my back pressed against the wall, my gaze searching the shadows above. I couldn’t immediately see anyone, but something or someone was definitely up there.

A fact confirmed by the soft green glow coming from the center of the living room.

As I neared the landing, I realized what it was.

Liadon’s orb.

It spun rapidly around the moment I appeared, but Liadon didn’t speak through it, as she had in her underground system. Maybe she couldn’t thanks to the distance. I opened my mouth to say something, but the orb disappeared before I could.

Obviously, I had to go to her .

I swore softly. I really didn’t feel like going out again, but I suspected ignoring Liadon’s summoning would not, in any way, help my long-term goals. I dumped the overnight bag in my room, made myself a cup of tea, then put it in a travel mug and clattered back down the steps, grabbing my warmest coat from the hook on the way out the back door. The air was icy and filled with the promise of an oncoming storm, but there was a whisper of something—or someone —else within it. It definitely wasn’t Beira, if only because the presence within the wind felt too normal, and very definitely not angry enough.

I scanned the rooftops but couldn’t spot anything out of place. While the presence within the wind suggested whoever watched me had some control over the weather, that didn’t eliminate the possibility of a regular human watcher. Hell, it could also be shifter; they’d certainly been the go-to choice for many in the past. But if there was one thing I’d learned over the last few months, it was to take at least some precautions if instincts started warning of trouble stirring ahead.

I caught the wind and spun it lightly around my body, forming a gentle but continuous shield of air that would spin away a prelim attack of air or ice. It wouldn’t—couldn’t—deter a full-scale attack, but it would at least give me warning and some time to either protect or retaliate.

I continued on, senses alert as I sipped my tea. Nothing happened, but the awareness of being tracked continued to loom large, and the wind still had little in the way of details when it came to who or what was out there. Which probably meant it was a storm witch with far better control over the wind than me.

Our ice witch perhaps? It would make sense, given I was on both Keeryn’s and my aunt’s revenge lists. Whether my recent actions and the sensation of being watched meant I’d jumped to the top of my aunt’s list, I couldn’t say. Maybe they simply were keeping an eye on me while they worked on whoever the next target might be.

I guess I’d find out soon enough.

I reached the council building just as the first few drops of rain started. The security guard opened the door and gave me a polite nod as I walked past. The council might have given me twenty-four-hour access, but the guard not asking for ID did surprise me.

But maybe they’d issued security with a photo. Or maybe there was some sort of bio scan in play that I didn’t know about. He was wearing an earpiece, so it was possible the control room gave him the all-clear as I strode up.

I clattered up the stairs to the second floor, then made my way around to the old staircase leading up to Liadon’s door. Once at the top, I tucked the now-empty travel mug into my purse then pressed my hand against the oily wood. The unseen symbols flared to life and, a heartbeat later, the door slid silently open.

This time, the orb was waiting.

“I do appreciate your promptness,” Liadon said. “Please, come in.”

I stepped over the threshold and followed her orb into the winding darkness, its light once again giving the sheer black walls an odd luminosity. The shadows that had been vague last time seemed stronger now, and it was very evident that the vast majority of them held a form that was not humanoid.

I shivered and decided it was probably better if I didn’t, in any way, dwell on what else might live in this world between worlds.

The orb led me into the chamber and once again hovered over the chair. I sat and crossed my legs, my gaze scanning the room, looking for the presence I could feel but not see. She slithered into view a few seconds later, coming in from behind me, her black scales once again possessing a vibrant green and gold sheen under the pale light still hovering above my head. She was, in many respects, quite beautiful—something I’d never thought I’d say about such a being.

“I take it you’ve found some information about Borrhás’s Horn?”

She stopped in front of me, her golden gaze sweeping me briefly. Critically. “I sense frustration in you.”

Said frustration flared a little more at her avoidance of the question, and amusement briefly glinted in her eyes.

“It’s been a frustrating search,” I replied, somehow managing to keep my tone even.

“It is ever thus when searching for godly relics. If it was easy, all would be doing it.”

“If my—admittedly brief—experience with relic hunting is anything to go by, a hell of a lot of people are doing it.”

She laughed softly. “That goes with the territory when the old gods stir. Chaos is no fun if there are few players.”

“Well, I do wish they’d kept their godly game boards in the cupboard for a few more centuries.”

“Your father started this round of games. There was never going to be a chance that you would remain uninvolved.”

Meaning I should probably be thankful they’d waited for me to grow up before involving me more fully in their schemes. “Then I need to speak to my father, because seriously, I’m not impressed with his efforts so far. Don’t suppose you know how he can be contacted, do you?”

She laughed again, her sinuous form rippling with the movement. “When the game is afoot, there should not be too much contact between the players and their footmen.”

“There’s a vast difference between too much and none,” I said dryly, “And I’m glad you didn’t call us pawns.”

“Pawns have no self-awareness or true control over events. What makes the godly games so intriguing is the fact one can never truly predict how those within any active game will react to whatever stimuli is provided.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “Which does lead me to the matter at hand.”

“Then you did find information on the horn?”

“No more than what you have undoubtedly already gotten from within the codex’s library. I did, however, find Borrhás himself. Or rather, he found me when he became aware of my search.”

Surprise rippled through me. “Beira had mentioned he was currently in this world, but she was under the impression he was behind the horn’s appearance.”

“An impression many have but one that is not correct according to him. He does, however, wish his now reunited relic returned rather than destroyed, as has been the case with some of the other relics you have come in contact with.”

“The only relic I’ve actually destroyed was the shield. The other three had been taken into Annwfyn, and who knows what had happened to them after that.”

“If they are no longer in play in either this world or the godly realms, they are considered destroyed.”

I hoped she was right but feared that she wasn’t. While the Annwfyn learning to use the Claws wasn’t likely to happen in my lifetime, it remained a distant and dangerous possibility for my children, given how long-lived we Aodhán were.

“So how am I supposed to get the horn to him if I do get a hold of it?”

“You bring it here, to me. I shall ensure it is returned to him. That is not his only demand, however.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I muttered, perhaps a little unwisely. There was no saying that Borrhás himself wasn’t amongst those ghostly figures I’d viewed in the tunnel or that even now he wasn’t standing beyond the cavern’s walls, listening to our conversation.

She arched a delicate eyebrow. “One should always expect the unexpected when it comes to the gods, be they old or new.”

“Something I’m definitely discovering. What else did he want?”

“He wants the wielder.”

To be locked in ice, as the queen who’d betrayed him had been . “I’m not sure our law enforcement will allow?—”

“Your laws do not apply here, and he will brook no argument on this. If you do not do as he wishes, he will punish the city in which you live.”

“ What? ”

“Your city—Deva. He will encase it in ice if you do not acquiesce to his wishes.”

“But—” I stopped and tried to come to grips with the casual cruelty of the threat. I had no doubt he could do it given one of his so-called names was the devouring one, but still... “Why punish the whole fucking city rather than me?”

“Because, as I have already mentioned, you are the queen of an ongoing game, and the gods would not be pleased if you fell so soon.”

I didn’t want to think about the implications of that statement, especially given some of the dreams I’d had in the past involved the sacrifice of a figure with red hair—a figure that had no face but was obviously an Aodhán.

Instead, I asked, “I don’t suppose you know who my king is then, do you? Because that would be really handy knowledge right now.”

“That is a question only Fate can answer.”

“Sadly, she’s declined to talk to me.” I drew in a breath and released it slowly. It didn’t help the tension, the fear or the frustration. It never did. “Okay, I’ll try?—”

“Do not try. Do.”

Despite everything, I couldn’t help the slight smile. “That sounded like something Beira would say.”

“She is a wise woman. Cantankerous, but wise.”

“On that, we agree.” I pushed up from the seat. “If that’s all?—”

“It is not.”

I frowned at her, even as a deep sense of dread bloomed. “What else could there be?”

She smiled. It was not a pleasant thing to behold. “He not only wants the wielder, but the mastermind behind the abuse of his relic. He wants your aunt.”