Chapter Two
TWO
BERRY
“The Respectful Order of Knockers, Coblyns, and Bluecaps can bite my shiny pink ass. The nerve of them kicking me out over nothing! And so close to Christmas! I tell you, Savian, it’s all politics with the knockers now.
You put so much as one toe out of what they consider a reasonable line, and boom!
You’re booted out into the cold, hard, unemployed world.
It doesn’t matter how many decades you’ve devoted to them, oh no, you take a stand to protect Gaia, and they have the hissy fit to end all hissy fits.
I won’t even repeat the things they said about me, but you can rest assured that it was all bull.
” I panted a little at the end of the rant, but that was mostly because I’d worked myself into a rage during the walk to my cousin’s house.
Savian, who sat in a wheelchair at the front door of his house in a London suburb, blinked at me a couple of times before he gave me a bright smile. “Hullo, Berry. I suppose you shouldn’t have helped with the downfall of that fracking company if it was going to get you fired.”
“Fracking is bad,” I reminded him, entering the house when he wheeled backward and gestured me in, careful to avoid his legs, both in casts from the knees down.
“It’s harmful to the earth, and what is a knocker if not a being who devotes her life to protecting said earth.
How are you feeling? You have color back in your face, so Maura must be taking good care of you. ”
“She is, I have, and better, thank you. Still can’t take a shower, but Maura has been very inventive in helping me bathe.
” His eyebrows waggled even as he grinned before spinning around and preceding me into a sunny sitting room that faced a narrow, but tidy, back garden.
“She and the kids are off seeing her mum, but they’ll be back by dinnertime, if you’d like to stay. ”
“Wish I could, but I have to try to find someone who’ll take on my unemployed self. If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them, because I can’t even get an interview.”
“As a matter of fact—oh, ta. No milk, and one sugar, please. As a matter of fact, I might have something you could do, although it would require you to pass a background check with the Committee.” He accepted the cup of tea that I’d poured him when I realized his wife, Maura, a lovely dragon with a wicked sense of humor, had set an electric kettle and tea makings on a side table within his reach.
I paused in the act of pouring myself a cup, studying his face.
Although Savian had been born mortal, he was now a dragon’s mate and, as such, had stopped aging.
His long, very English face had a few more lines than I remembered the last time I’d seen him, but he looked much the same.
Spurred by a sudden rush of emotions, I gave his arm a squeeze and said, “I’m so glad you found Maura.
Life with her and the kids obviously suits you.
You look happy despite two obliterated legs.
Speaking of that, did they ever find the troll who threw you onto the train tracks? ”
He gave a little shudder, and took a sip of tea before answering.
“Yes, although since there were no cameras around that section of the track, it’s my word against his.
Luckily, I’m healing two shattered legs faster than a mortal, so I should be mobile in a few more days.
And I agree with the sentiment that Maura and the sprogs make my life worth living.
But we’re here to talk about you. It’s why I invited you around. ”
“And here I was hoping you wanted to feed me so I wouldn’t expire of starvation,” I said with a wry smile, one that acknowledged there was little chance my substantial self would fade away anytime soon. “How are the kids? The baby is almost a year, yes?”
We spent a good ten minutes talking about his life pre–troll attack, and I admired many photos of his two daughters and one son, as well as a smiling Maura.
“Back to what you said—I’m happy to feed you, but really, I wanted you here for two reasons: one was to tell you about the job opportunity, and the other was to share our good news. I should wait for Maura to be here, but I don’t think she’ll mind me spilling it to you.”
“You’re having another baby?” I asked, surprised but pleased for them. Savian had been a well-known ladies’ man for most of his life, but once he met Maura, he turned into an admirable husband and father.
“No, I think we’re done there. Although ... no. We’re good with three. Our news is that we’re about to become official dragons.” He beamed with obvious pleasure.
“I thought Maura was a dragon already. Is it because her mom is human that she isn’t considered one?” I asked, confused.
“No, not at all. In fact, quite the opposite—she could be a wyvern if she wanted,” he answered, offering me a box of cookies.
I picked out one, fighting to keep from stuffing it in my face.
“And since I assume that look of confusion means you don’t know what a wyvern is, they are the leaders of the various dragon groups called septs.
We’ve accepted the offer made by the wyvern of the red sept to formally become members.
Maura’s father was a red dragon, you see, so it makes sense for us to join the sept now that it’s been re-formed. ”
“Congrats to all of you. Will that mean any changes for you working as a thief taker?”
“As I’m freelance, not a one,” he said, offering me the biscuit tin again, winking when I hesitated. “Go ahead. You’ve got that look in your eyes that says you’d eat roast behemoth if you had the chance.”
I limited my second dip into the cookies to just two more, giving him a grateful glance. “I may not look like I’ve been on a tight budget, but I assure you I am, so thank you for this treat. What job do you think I would be able to get for the Committee?”
“My old job, as a matter of fact,” he said, shifting his legs.
I grabbed a couple of small pillows he had strained to reach, and propped them under his legs so they were at a more comfortable angle.
“I left off being an official thief taker for the L’au-dela seven years ago, and although they’ve had a few people fill the role, no one’s stuck to it for more than a half year.
You have the heritage, the brains, and a brilliant cousin who will impart to you all of his knowledge about the ways of tracking, so I have no doubt you’d be perfect for the job. ”
“A thief taker,” I said slowly, musing over the idea.
Our grandfather had been a well-known thief taker, and although my side of the family had never followed that path—my father was a knocker, and passed that on down to me—Savian had a point.
I did have tracking in my blood. “Hmm. It’s not a bad idea, so long as you let me know best practices. ”
“I thought you’d like it,” he said, his smile both warm and somewhat smug as he leaned back in his chair. “The application is online. I’m happy to help you fill it out, if you’d like.”
I jumped on the offer, and spent the rest of the afternoon with him.
By the time Maura and the kids returned, I’d filled out the application, uploaded my CV, washed the tea things, and, under Savian’s supervision, whipped up two shepherd’s pies and a batch of my grandmother’s Moravian spice cookies.
Dinner was a bit chaotic, but as I genuinely liked Maura and the children, I returned home to my dark room with a full stomach, a container of leftover dinner, and, more important, hope for my future.
Five days later, after a trip to Paris to meet with Savian’s grandfather-in-law (the man who basically ran the European Otherworld) Dr. Kostich, I was granted the title of provisional thief taker of the L’au-dela.
Twelve hours after I returned to London clutching a card naming me as an employee of the Committee, I got a phone call.
“I need a thief taker in London,” a woman said without a greeting. “You’re the only one who is in town. How quickly can you find my son?”
“I don’t know,” I said, a bit confused. “Why don’t you start by telling me how old he is? Also, the mortal police are very good at tracking lost children, so I’d recommend you talk to them, too—”
“I don’t know the exact year Owain was born, because we didn’t number things at that time, but it was the year we had an eclipse. I distinctly remember the mortals believing the world had come to an end.”
I pursed my lips at her answer, and pulled out a small notebook and pen to take down relevant information. “OK. I’m glad it’s not a missing child we’re looking for. Can I get your name for my records, please? And also, tell me about your son.”
“I’m Jericho Taf, although you may call me Jerry.
My eldest son’s name is Owain, which, since it’s pronounced ‘Owen,’ is modern enough, I suppose, although I pointed out to him that we’ve all taken other names to fit in.
All but my sister Ozymandra, and she insisted on keeping her name despite me warning her that she would never pass as mortal if she did.
But she’s dead now, so I suppose it’s a moot point. ”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured, wondering about this potential client. Was she just talkative, or a bit scatty? It was hard to tell at this point.
“Eh. It’s not the tragedy you imagine, although I did think Cadell could have dealt with her without having a demon lop off her head, but there you are.”
I stared in growing horror at the ugly carpet of my rented room. “Someone hired a demon to kill your sister? Was it your son?”
“Yes. Cadell, although he uses another name now. Devon? Dermott? Something along those lines.”
I was silent for almost half a minute before I could interrupt her stream of consciousness. “I’m sure names are important, but right now I’d like to gather some information about your son. Er ... the one you’re looking for, not the demon-hiring one.”