Chapter 5 #5
I swore, softly but venomously. Cold iron had long been used by humans and shifters to repel, contain, or harm ghosts, fairies, witches, and other so-called “malevolent” supernatural creatures.
A side effect of this meant it also repelled those magics used by them, which in this case was the lifeblood of the building.
Maybe the renovations weren’t the reason for its dying song; maybe this fucking thing was slowly tearing it apart.
“Problem?” Mathi said from behind me.
“Cold iron box inserted into the wall.”
“Haven’t heard of someone doing that for centuries. Anything in it?”
“Don’t know—about to check.”
I leaned in a little more and felt around until I found the latch. Surprisingly, it wasn’t any sort of modern lock but rather a simple latch slide. Perhaps, given the false wall and the unlikeliness of anyone looking past it, the owner simply hadn’t bothered.
The door swung open; inside were several yellowed scrolls, each one sealed with red wax.
I drew a knife and touched the tip of it onto each one; light flickered brightly down the fuller and there was a soft puff of smoke that suggested a spell had been killed.
I placed the knife to one side, tugged the scrolls out and handed them to Mathi, then swept my hand through the box’s innards again.
At the very back I found a small leather book.
I repeated the process with the knife, then dragged out the book, checked there was nothing else, then closed the door and slid the latch back into place.
After a slight hesitation, I deepened the contact with the old building again and carefully rerouted the rivers, leaving the areas that touched the iron dead and unconnected, but allowing the rest to flow unimpeded.
I couldn’t repair all the breaches—I simply didn’t have the time—but this would at least stop the continuing agony and perhaps allow a little bit of healing over time.
After replacing the false back wall, I pushed to my feet.
“Anything interesting in that book at first glance?”
“Can’t say, because it’s not written in any language I know, and I do know a few.”
I stopped in front of him and peered at the upside down pages. “That looks like gibberish.”
“Might be code. Maybe the key is in the scrolls you found. We should leave.”
I nodded and motioned him to lead the way.
We’d just reached the bottom of the stairs when the soft scrape of a key in the lock echoed.
Mathi glanced briefly at me, then immediately broke into a run; his steps were light, almost inaudible, mine not so much.
There was a curse from the other side of the door, and it was flung open just as we reached the cellar.
Mathi motioned me in first, but I shook my head and pointed to the frame.
He nodded in understanding and went down the stairs fast. I closed the door then quickly connected to the building again, weaving the fading song of the door into the slightly stronger frame.
It probably wouldn’t hold them for all that long, but we didn’t need long.
I went down the stairs slowly in an effort to contain the noise of my steps, then hurried over to Mathi.
Locryn had just finished dismantling his harness and leapt back down.
Mathi threw my coveralls at me and, once I had tugged them back on, motioned me to precede him.
He followed, closing the trapdoor behind him.
A heartbeat later, there was a loud crash; the basement door had just been forced open.
I clambered back up the stone ladder once Mathi was clear and hastily fused the trapdoor to the surrounding frame, then jumped down and scurried after Locryn.
The thumping of something heavy against the trapdoor chased us into the deeper tunnels. We didn’t speak; didn’t say anything until we were back at the pavilion and safe.
As the grate was wedged back into place, Brega said, “I take it there was some excitement down there? I’ve never seen Locryn so flushed before.”
“He definitely earned his fee today,” Mathi said. “I’ll throw in a bonus for the hasty footwork in the cellar too.”
“Ah, that is mighty generous of you,” Locryn said. “Now strip off the coveralls and gloves, and let’s all get the fuck out of here, just in case they’ve got some hounds or rats out trying to track us.”
“Hounds can’t trace through water, can they?” We’d certainly run through enough of that muck to counter the possibility.
“No, but a rat could. Their sense of smell is extremely sensitive, and it’s usually unfazed by water.”
“It’s unlikely they had one on watch,” Mathi said, handing Brega his coverall and gloves. “But it’s also better to be safe than sorry.”
“Indeed,” Brega said. “Now go, both of you, while we clean up the area to erase any possible evidence we were here and lock down the grate.”
Mathi called the Uber, then thanked them and opened the door, ushering me through. We’d obviously been underground for longer than it had seemed, because the faint blush of evening had spread across the sky and the earlier promise of frost was stronger in the air.
“How do you think they saw us?” I said, crossing my arms against the cold.
“Probably the Eye’s light. The bathroom blind wasn’t pulled all the way down.”
I frowned. “There would have been a half inch gap, if that.”
“Which is enough for light to shine through. Obviously, whoever was watching that side of the building was, unfortunately for us, paying attention.”
I grunted. “Will today’s excursion bring your father’s wrath down?”
He shrugged. “There’s no proof it was us—we weren’t seen—and there will be no prints to find aside from those left on the false back wall and the iron box’s door. It’s unlikely the cops or my father know about either of those.”
“I hope you’re right.” I paused and scooted through the gate ahead of Mathi.
The Uber was waiting a little farther up the road.
“I’ve dinner with Lugh and Darby tonight—why don’t you come along?
He might have more luck deciphering that book than either of us, given his familiarity with hieroglyphics and whatnot. ”
“I’m not sure either of us are in a fit state to attend a dinner—the scent of the sewer lingers, despite the coveralls.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve showered and changed there—and no, there will be no joint shower.”
He laughed. “I’m getting predictable, and that is truly sad. You’d better call him, just to be sure it’s okay.”
“It will be—Darby always over caters.”
I did nevertheless send a text warning her she had an extra guest for dinner, then climbed into the Uber and gave the driver Lugh’s address.
Night had well and truly fallen by the time we arrived at his place—a decommissioned power substation that was a bit of an eyesore compared to the rest of the lovely old Victorian houses in the street.
Decades of grime had darkened the brown brick to black, and the wooden door—situated in the middle of the long, single-story building—still had the rusty old electrical warning signs screwed into it.
It did, however, have the one thing vital to a man of Lugh’s size that none of the lovely old Victorians did—tons of head height and, more importantly, tons of storage space.
I punched in the code, then opened the door and yelled, “We’re here.”
“Feel free to come in,” came the amused response.
We stepped inside the building’s large, airy foyer and hung up our coats on the spare hooks on the wall behind the front door. There were two other doors here—the one on the left went into the main living area and the two bedrooms, the one on the right into his office and the storage area.
Darby was in the process of pulling a roast out of the oven—which was new, I noted, meaning she’d finally done something about the decades-old stove that had been secondhand when Lugh had installed it, and which had never worked reliably—but glanced around as we entered, her grin wide.
She was a typical light elf in looks—tall and slender, with long pale gold hair plaited into a thick rope that ran down her spine, eyes the color of summer skies, and features sharp but ethereally beautiful.
“Now that is what I call perfect timing.”
“Not really,” I said. “We’ve been doing a sewer run and are little odious right now.”
“I did wonder what that smell was,” Lugh said as he came into the room behind us.
At six foot five inches—a good nine inches taller than me—he broke every expectation when it came to pixies, even amongst those familiar with the fact that both the Talien and Aodhán pixies were human sized.
“I hope you’re planning to shower before we eat, because it really is enough to put us off dinner. ”
“The most odious smell on this Earth would never put you off your food,” I noted dryly. “Not ever.”
“True, but I was more worried about Darby’s sensibilities, not mine.”
“I’m a healer and a Ljósálfar elf. My sensibilities are capable of handling just about anything.” Her gaze came back to mine. “What happened to your face, and why didn’t you get it fixed?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Collided with a rock wall and didn’t have time.”
She tsked. “Get thee to a shower, and I’ll come in and fix it before we eat.”
“We’ll need to borrow some clothes,” Mathi said. “It is pointless cleaning up if we just put the same clothes back on.”
“Beth has her emergency clothing here, but I’ll grab you some sweats,” Lugh said.
Darby laughed. “He’ll swim in yours. Mine would be a better fit.”
“As long as they’re not pink, fine.” There was just a hint of resignation in Mathi’s voice. He knew, like I knew, the sweats were never going to be a “normal” color, given Darby did like pastels.
“Baby blue it is then,” she replied with a laugh. “At least it’ll match your lovely eyes.”