Chapter 3 #4
I might not get a truly clear picture of what Eljin was doing, but I could certainly see who he was with.
If it wasn’t his sister, that in and of itself was no big deal.
He and I weren’t exclusive and, up until very recently, I’d spent my time between his bed and Cynwrig’s. It was the lie that mattered.
That, and the Eye’s response.
Once I’d given the wind her orders and streamed her toward London, I sighed and opened my eyes... to see Mathi leaning against the trunk of a nearby ash tree. He was wearing a black trench coat that emphasized his slim figure, crisp black pants, shiny black shoes, and looked rather dapper.
“Is there a reason you’re dressed so formally?” I asked, accepting the hand he offered me.
“Had a business meeting this morning, and the client expects a certain look.” He released my hand and fell in step beside me. “What did the wind have to say?”
“Nothing. I just sent it on a little scouting mission.”
“For the pectoral?”
“No, as we haven’t yet got any information about what it looks like.”
“Then what did you ask it to do? Or shouldn’t I ask?”
“Probably the latter, but I asked it to follow Eljin to see if he is doing what he says he’s doing this weekend.”
He glanced at me, his eyebrows raised. “That’s a little stalkerish, isn’t it? It’s not like you’re in a committed relationship with the man.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“The Eye. It reacts badly to him. I’m not sure why, but I intend to find out.”
“Surely the museum would have done a background on him before he started.”
“They did, and it didn’t reveal anything untoward.” I shrugged. “In truth, the Eye’s reaction might be nothing more than my own uncertainty about our relationship but—”
“Instinct is niggling, and that is never a good thing, as I well know. It did end a wonderful relationship.”
I nudged him. “Only our sexual one.”
“Indeed, but I did rather enjoy sex with you.” He paused. “There are easier—and definitely more reliable—ways to check what he is doing than using the wind.”
I glanced at him. “We can’t risk running a trace on him through the IIT system; the system is likely compromised, and there’s a chance such a search would tip off whoever stole the hoard.”
He stopped and stared at me. “Your instinct is suggesting he’s a plant? Why have you never said anything?”
“Because instinct has had very little to say about him until very recently, and besides, I’m not sure he is. I just...” I shrugged. “I guess I just need to be sure one way or another, especially when I have the gods telling me to be wary of letting new people into my life.”
“I would suggest that if the gods are saying that, then we definitely need to check him out more thoroughly.” He walked on. “I’ll contact a friend in London who specializes in this sort of thing and get him onto the case immediately. Where is Eljin staying, do you know?”
“Montcalm Royal.” My eyebrows rose. “What if your friend is busy?”
“He owes me several favors. He will not be busy.”
“Spoken as only a royal-blood Ljósálfar could.”
“Said royal Ljósálfar elf will do serious damage to Eljin if he does turn out to be a plant. And then he will be handed over to Cynwrig, who will ensure what life he has left will be spent in agony.”
“And why would Cynwrig do that? He and I—”
“—are lovers, yes, and you do not ever mess with the lover of a dark elf lord. They tend to get a little touchy about that sort of thing.” Amusement teased his lips. “To be honest, I am utterly surprised he allowed you to even have other lovers.”
I rolled my eyes. “He doesn’t own me, Mathi. He has no say in who I date or bed.”
Although he very definitely had not been happy when I’d told him that if he wasn’t exclusive, then neither was I.
“In case it has escaped your notice,” he said, tone dry, “we elves have somewhat backward—some might say caveman-like—views when it comes to certain things. For us Ljósálfar, it’s never double cross us; for the Myrkálfar, it’s do not mess with those they consider dear to them, be it family, friend, or lover. ”
“But we don’t even know each other that well, Mathi. Outside of the bedroom, anyway.”
“He knows you well enough to hear your resonance on the earth and unerringly lead me to you, and trust me when I say my finest bit of work that day was convincing him your aunt’s body needed to be returned to Liadon’s cave and Borrhás.”
My eyebrows shot upward. “He threatened to bury her?”
“Her, her people, the building, everything. The man was not happy.”
And wasn’t my stupid little heart happy to hear that little tidbit.
Henrick opened the rear passenger door as we approached. I nodded my thanks, then scooted across to save him from having to run around the car for Mathi. As we drove off, Mathi made the call to his friend; said friend did not refuse the commission.
In very little time, we were crossing over the river and heading into the genteel area that was Handbridge.
I’d thought we’d be going to one of the many grand old manors that littered this area, but instead we stopped at a simple, end-of-terrace, red-brick cottage a stone’s throw away from the river with the park at its back.
Just as we stopped, the storm finally unleashed.
I clambered out of the car before Henrick could run around and open the door for me, then hastily zipped up my coat and tugged on my hood.
The rain was fierce enough that it still felt like hail through the coat’s thick padding.
But it wasn’t the rain or the storm itself that had goose bumps skipping across my skin.
It was the odd note in the air. Music that was distant and jarring.
Or maybe the problem was me; maybe my ears weren’t quite attuned to the music that played within the wind.
Why it felt like that, or where it was originating from, I couldn’t yet say.
I fell in step beside Mathi, my hands in my pockets and my gaze searching the buildings around us for the source of the wind song. But she was swirling about recklessly, tugging at hair and clothes with abandon, making any sort of seeking nigh on impossible.
Well, at least impossible on the fly for someone like me. I dared say I could do it given time to frame the question and a safe spot to do it in.
The officer guarding the tape blocking the street was the same poor soul who’d gotten the task yesterday, and he looked utterly miserable, but he nevertheless greeted us with a pleasant nod and lifted the tape so we could go under.
“Is the commander inside?” Mathi asked.
“Indeed, sir,” he replied.
Mathi nodded, and we moved on briskly, but as we neared the front door, the knives burned to life, their heat once again echoing in the Eye.
In that same instant, the odd, scratchy music riding the wind disappeared. I stopped abruptly, my gaze searching the area.
“What?” Mathi immediately said.
“The thief is still here. Not in the house, but close.”
“Our man definitely likes flirting with danger, doesn’t he?”
“Either that, or he’s waiting or watching for something.”
Someone, instinct whispered.
“I’ll inform my father—”
“You inform; I’ll walk on and see if I can find anything.”
He hesitated. “Fine, but promise you won’t go far. I don’t want to be rescuing you again.”
“I promise. And don’t worry, I have my knives and can call down the lightning if anything untoward happens.”
“You had both those options the last time you were kidnapped, and neither did anything to help. So please, be careful.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t reply, instead continuing on as he hurried inside.
The gap between our terrace and the next one was big enough to allow two cars to park, but at the back of the area, sitting in the middle of a fence that was more brambles than wire or wood, was a homemade gate.
Obviously, those living in the street did not like having to walk the few extra yards around the corner to get into the park.
The knives were pointing me in its direction, so I walked up to the gate, pushed it open with some effort, and stepped through.
The path sloped upward and was a mix of stone and dirt that had multiple rivulets running down into rapidly filling potholes.
About halfway up the slope, just on the edge of one of those puddles, was a set of boots.
Safety type boots. With no body attached.
Even as I watched, the boots dissolved into the rain.
He was here. Right here, and had obviously been unconcealed until I’d come through the gate.
The fact that he’d chosen to fade rather than run said a whole lot about his character.
Or more likely perhaps, his overconfidence.
Either that, or he didn’t realize his disappearing trick wasn’t instantaneous.
I grabbed the wind and spun her toward him. While it was unlikely vapor could be leashed, surely at least some laws of physics had to apply. In this case, I was hoping to disperse his body and save us the trouble of incarceration.
Unfortunately, it seemed the laws of physics did not apply.
He did, however, laugh at the attempt. Then he ran—something I felt through the wind more than heard or saw. She might not be able to disperse him, but she could still feel his presence and location.
I ripped a knife free from my purse and bolted up the path after him, the wind at my back, pressing me on even as she spun information around me.
I raised the knife and threw it, as hard as I could, at the man I couldn’t see, using the wind’s directions as a guide.
The knife flew straight and true, then abruptly stopped, hanging midair about shoulder height.
Lightning spun out from the blade in all directions, and vapor became human.
He stumbled, then reached back with a gloved hand and ripped the knife from his left shoulder blade.
He ran on a few more yards and jumped—dove—into the ground and disappeared.
Or maybe that was just an illusion. Maybe he was simply using the pectoral to make it appear he’d disappeared into the earth.
I recalled the knife and listened to the wind as I continued on, trying to figure out where he’d gone. She had no answers. The blade thudded into my hand, and I gripped it tight, closing in on the spot where he’d disappeared.
And discovered his disappearance wasn’t an illusion.
It was a hole in the ground.
One I fell into head fucking first.