Chapter 5
Chapter Five
I enjoyed the walk home right up until an ogre loomed out of the shadows – and not my favourite ogre either. I was just a street away from home, but the ogre’s stance made it clear I wasn’t going to make it there without talking to her.
Frankly, this confrontation was long overdue.
The moment The Mystic Informer had blabbed about my relationship with Robbie to all and sundry, I knew this moment was inevitable.
Sooner or later, an ogre representative would be sent to scare me away.
I was human and an Inspector to boot. While I might have occasional self-esteem issues, I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything tell me I wasn’t good enough for their king – even if I did happen to agree with them.
The ogre was dressed in black combat trousers, a black t-shirt, and a mean attitude.
She had a mace which she rested casually on the pavement.
Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a full face of make-up.
The only giveaway that she was an ogre – beyond the mace and the muscle-bound six-foot-five stature – was that her right arm, the one holding the mace, was significantly bigger than the left.
Her expression was set to not happy. I recognised her from one of the occasions I’d attended Robbie’s den.
She’d not been happy to see me then, either.
‘Yes?’ I said impatiently. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m not here for your help,’ she sneered.
I shrugged, and with an air of pure nonchalance, I began to walk around her.
As I did so, I drew up my intention, picturing a wall of solid air around me that would stop anything from reaching me, and then I released it with a tiny flick of my index finger.
I was level with her, so as I walked past her, I kept my eyes trained on the car windows just beside me.
I saw her heft the mace and the exact moment she intended to strike.
The second her mace hit my air shield, I softened it, letting her weapon sink into the air around me, and then I firmed it up again, locking her mace into place. It hovered uselessly in the air a foot from me.
I turned to face my attacker. ‘It’s not nice to attack people when their backs are turned,’ I said mildly. ‘Well, it’s not nice to attack people in general really, but let’s save that lesson for another day. You strike me as a one-lesson-a-day woman. What’s your name?’
‘Fuck you!’ She compounded the curse by hacking and spitting a glob of sputum at my feet.
She was a real class act.
‘Well, Miss Fuck You, you’re in a bit of a pickle. You see, you may not have realised, but I’m an Inspector of the Connection, and I get terribly ratty when people attack me on my way home.’
Because I was a level-five wizard with an affinity for air, I could do something many others struggled with: hold the air shield in place and send a blast of air roaring right towards an opponent. To let her know who she was dealing with, I did exactly that.
It was satisfying to watch her fly off her feet and land hard on the pavement a few feet away. She let out an oof as air whistled out of her body. I waited patiently for her to get to her feet. Rather than stagger up, she did a neat flip, got to her feet instantly and promptly drew a dagger.
I sighed. ‘Do you really want to lose all of your weapons today? I mean, I can always do with a new knife, but we’re doing a big push for people to give up their knives at the moment, so it would be hypocritical of me to add to my collection.
’ I gave a careless shrug. ‘I suppose I can hand it in for you.’
‘You sanctimonious bitch!’ the ogre snarled.
‘You need to watch your language, Miss You. People might get the wrong idea.’ I turned my tone conspiratorial. ‘Fuck, may I call you Fuck?’
She let out a garbled noise of pure rage and ran at me. She bounced off the air shield and landed on her arse.
‘You’re not too smart, are you, Fuck?’
‘Argh!’ She stood, chest heaving, eyes incandescent with rage. ‘You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?’
‘I do. The clue is in my name, you see – Wise.’ I looked at her with mock-sympathy. ‘But your parents screwed you over with yours, didn’t they?’
‘I’m going to kill you, you stupid bitch! You’re not good enough for him!’
No need to ask who the ‘him’ was.
‘If you’re trying to kill me, I have to say, you’re doing a terrible job. If you want to run away and try again another day, we can both call your retreat “regrouping.” It’s all in the framing.’ I winked.
‘I fucking hate you!’
‘You do seem to, which is interesting, Fuck, because this is our first proper conversation. Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to judge a book by its cover?’
‘Drop your air shield, bitch, and I’ll help rearrange your cover!’
I grinned. ‘I don’t think so. Another time, perhaps.’ I turned and walked away, keeping the air shield locked around me and her mace, which drew forward as I walked.
‘Hey! Give me my mace back!’ she hollered.
‘Finders keepers,’ I called back. ‘Catch you later, Fuck.’
The ogre roared again in rage but stomped off to a large black Nissan truck. She wrenched the door open, and I kept walking home. I heard the moment the truck’s engine caught and listened as the vehicle moved away from me.
Tension slid from my shoulders. It had been a coin toss whether she’d try to mow me down with the truck, but apparently she’d thought better of it.
I’d faced a lot with my air shield, but a two-tonne truck wasn’t on the list. Maybe I would have been fine.
Maybe I wouldn’t have been. A mystery for another day.
When I reached the relative safety of my runed building, I grasped the mace by its handle and dropped the air shield.
The weight of the weapon was staggering.
I cheated, using a pocket of air to help me lift it.
I jogged up the stairs and the old lady who lived opposite my flat, Grace Abernathy, was exiting her flat as I prepared to enter. She eyed the mace.
‘Halloween,’ I said casually.
‘It’s a bit early, isn’t it?’
I shot her a look of faux horror. ‘It’s never too soon to start preparing for the best holiday of the year.’
‘That’s Christmas, dear.’
‘You’re wrong, Mrs Abernathy, but I won’t hold it against you.’
She smiled. ‘As long as you don’t hold that thing against me,’ she pointed to the mace, ‘we’re fine.’
‘It’s just plastic,’ I lied. ‘See?’ I used the IR to lift it effortlessly into the air as if it weighed nothing.
‘Gosh it’s amazing what they can do these days, isn’t it? It looks so real.’
Mrs Abernathy was dressed up, her face fully made up and a pretty scarf tied around her neck. No matter the weather, she always wore a scarf. This one was pink and purple in a beautiful marbled pattern.
‘Doing something nice?’ I asked.
‘Meeting friends for dinner.’
‘Oh how lovely. Anywhere nice?’
‘Opera Grill.’
‘Very nice. The food is supposed to be great there. Let me know what you think!’
‘I will.’ She paused, eyeing me meaningfully. ‘And how’s that buff young man of yours? I haven’t seen him around in the last week or two.’
I smiled stiffly. ‘Trying to get our schedules to match is like getting the stars to align,’ I confessed.
‘If he’s worth it, you force them,’ Mrs Abernathy advised. She patted me on the hand and started carefully down the stairs. ‘Oh, and dear? Your bird was warbling a great deal today. Seemed terribly sad. Perhaps leave the radio on for him next time you have to leave him home?’
Fear pierced my heart. ‘Yeah, I’ll do that,’ I managed before whirling to the door and fumbling with my keys.
I unlocked the door. ‘Loki?’ I called. ‘Where are you, bud?’
I didn’t hear a response, so I dropped the mace to the floor, shoved the door shut, and hollered, ‘Loki!’ I looked frantically around my open-plan living space.
My dad’s files were still scattered on the dining room table and the window was slightly ajar so Loki could leave if he wanted, but there was no sign of the bird himself.
My anxiety shot up as I saw a small tray of cut-up ham still on the side, uneaten.
That never happened. Loki was always eating, whether he was hungry or not.
He said eating was his hobby, and given the amount of joy he got from it, it was hard to argue with that.
‘Loki?’ I called again. Surely he wouldn’t have left? Maybe he hadn’t managed to get home after the crime scene? My stomach lurched. He’d said he was okay to make it home and I’d believed him, but maybe he hadn’t had the energy. Shit! I should have driven him home myself.
‘Pigdog,’ came the faint response from my feathered friend.
Relief surged through me. ‘Loki?’
He trilled softly, and I followed the sound to my bedroom. He was lying on the pillow on my side of the bed.
‘Loki!’ Panic elbowed relief out of the way like a shopper in a sale. His little chest was barely moving. ‘That’s it! I’m calling Amber!’
He didn’t protest, just closed his eyes again. I hauled out my phone and rang the Crone.
‘Yes?’ she answered sharply.
‘You’re still in the area, right?’
‘I’m in Chester right now, as it happens.’
‘Thank goodness. My bird is sick. I need your help.’
‘Your … bird?’
‘My caladrius! Please Amber.’
She sighed. ‘You’d think as the Crone I’d be less at people’s beck and call, but no. Give me your address, Wise.’
I rattled it off and she made a note of it. ‘Bastion and I will be around shortly.’