Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
The blade skittered across the shield’s surface, sending angry sparks dancing through the rain.
I grabbed the knife from my belt and thrust it out and around, but it sliced through nothing but air.
Then something—someone—hit me hard from behind, sending me stumbling forward.
I flailed my arms in an effort to keep balance, but my feet slipped on the wet pavement, and I crashed onto my knees.
Again, the shield flared, and more angry sparks flew.
I swore and swept the knife around behind me, my knees protesting the sudden movement.
Once again, I hit nothing.
Worse still, the shield was fading, suggesting my attacker had already fled.
But just in case, I caught the air and formed several leashes, snapping them forward in multiple directions.
They, like the knife, caught nothing. My attacker was obviously using either a shadow shield or the far more expensive invisibility one, but that shouldn’t have prevented the wind from at least knocking her over.
Because it had been a woman who’d attacked me.
Her hands had been long and slender, her skin smooth and flawless, and her long nails well manicured.
Perhaps that meant she was a bird shifter, which would certainly explain her swift disappearance.
I looked up, into the storm. The rain pelted my face and made seeing anything nigh on impossible, but the night was free of any sort of movement or anger.
Whether or not my attacker had been a shifter, she was long gone.
I swore again, climbed to my feet, and continued on to the tavern, my knees protesting every damn movement.
I wrenched the front door open and stepped into the small and very warm ground floor room.
People greeted me loudly as I made my way toward the bar, many of them ribbing me about being so wet.
I asked Ingrid to organize someone to clean up the puddles before anyone slipped on them, then quickly made my way upstairs.
I dropped the harp and the knife onto the sofa, then stripped off and jumped into the shower to warm up.
My knees were red and beginning to bruise, but at least I’d avoided broken skin and blood.
After ordering a meal from the kitchen—it was a steak, egg, and chips sort of evening—I rose and put the kettle on.
By the time I’d had a pre-dinner snack of tea and chocolate, my meal was ready.
I scrolled through social media as I ate, catching up on all the local news, then grabbed more chocolate and another cuppa.
It was tempting, so damn tempting, to reach out to Cynwrig, not because I wanted some loving—although I definitely would not have said no to sex—but because I wanted to sleep with the warmth of his arms around me.
Wanted to rest secure in the knowledge that he was there, protecting me against all those who wanted me dead.
I was no wilting flower, and I certainly wasn’t alone in this fight, but sometimes, I really wished I had someone to come home to at the end of the day.
But that was not to be my lot. Not if the gods had their way.
I sighed, picked up the trinket box, and examined it more carefully.
I had no idea why I’d felt the need to bring it home with me, which was damnably frustrating.
I carefully tipped the hair and the teeth onto the table, then lightly pressed my fingers against the latter.
Gran had sometimes been able to get a feel for people with mere touch, but it had never been one of my gifts.
Nor had it been Mom’s, though both she and Gran could scry with the best of them and sometimes used personal items to help direct what they were seeing.
Neither the hair nor the teeth caused any sort of response in me, however.
The box itself was a plain but gorgeous old thing, its song gentle and distant, a background caress more than anything stronger. I deepened the connection, and that’s when I discovered it had a false bottom.
I pressed a finger around the inside of the box, but couldn’t find any sort of lever or button.
Frowning, I examined the exterior, once again running my fingers across the wood, listening to the gentle song, letting it guide me.
A rear leg moved fractionally under pressure, and, inside the box, the false bottom popped up.
I carefully eased it away. Inside was a folded piece of yellowed paper. I put the box back on the table and then carefully unfolded the paper. On it, someone had written out the alphabet, and above each letter was some sort of strange squiggle.
It was a code, but what the hell did it decipher?
I had no idea.
I grabbed my phone, took a photo, then carefully tucked the paper back into its hidey-hole and placed the hair and the teeth back in.
I needed somewhere safe to store the box—somewhere it was unlikely anyone would think of looking.
After a moment, I rose and walked into the bathroom, pulling out a drawer that still held all Mom’s bits and pieces, hiding it right at the back. Then I did my teeth and went to bed.
The building’s song woke me who knew how many hours later, warning me Mathi was in the building. I scrambled out of bed and hurriedly chucked on sweats and a hoodie.
“You up?” he called out as he ran lightly upstairs.
“Sadly, for you, yes I am. Is that bacon I smell?”
He laughed. “Your sense of smell is sharper than a bloodhound’s.”
“Only when it comes to bacon butties.” I shoved on my slippers, then walked out. “Did you manage to get hold of Macsen’s loot?”
“I certainly did.” He placed a tray containing the butties and two coffee cups on the table, then tossed me a small backpack. “It’s mainly property deeds, birth certificates, driver’s licenses, and a couple of passports, but there was also an oddly large number of personal items.”
“Jewelry?”
“No. Mainly hair and toothbrushes, some of them obviously ancient, and most of which came from the security box.”
Confusion flitted through me. “Why on earth would she be holding on to things like that?”
He pulled the cups and the butties from the cardboard tray, then sat down opposite me.
“While a multishifter can take on the form of anyone they touch for a reasonable amount of time, it’s often necessary for them to have some form of their target’s DNA if they wish to reflect that person’s image for extended periods of time. ”
“Does us having her collection mean she’ll have trouble maintaining some forms long term?”
He nodded. “We—or rather, the IIT—should also be able to use them to match any Jane Does they’re holding in the morgues.”
“Until we’ve actually neutralized the bitch, I’m thinking it’s best not to give anything to the IIT right now.” I opened the backpack and peered inside. “Did you also get the necklace?”
“Yes. It’s at the bottom of the pack, in a leather pouch.”
“Ah, good.” I dropped the bag onto the table then reached for my butty. “I’ll contact Margaret Falconer when I get the—”
“The woman who was working with Loudon and Gannon?” he cut in. “Do you think that wise, given they were both connected to the Ninkilim?”
“They were; she’s not. I’m sure of that. They tried to kill her, remember.”
He grunted. It wasn’t a convinced sort of sound. “Cynwrig did give me the details of a tracer in Liverpool. Highly recommends her services.”
“Yeah, I just bet he does.”
Mathi’s eyebrows rose. “Is that a bit of jealousy raising its ugly head?”
“Of course it isn’t. He and I are not, and never will be, exclusive.”
“A statement that does not void my question.”
“Your question is irrelevant.” I unwrapped the butty and bit into it. “By the way, someone tried to knife me last night.”
“What? Why didn’t—”
“The knife protected me. I’m fine, obviously.”
“Do you think it was Carla?”
I grimaced. “The hand holding the knife was dark skinned, but given she’s a multishifter—”
“The one thing body shifters can’t do is alter their skin color.”
I frowned. “Well, that makes no sense, especially given they can alter just about everything else.”
“It has something to do with the skin being the largest organ in the body, with three layers that have different anatomical structures and functions.” He shrugged. “Body shape and features take far less energy, although even then, they are restricted to those with similar heights.”
“Which is rather odd when you consider their animal counterparts can switch from a human to something as small as a rat. I would think that more difficult than changing skin color.”
“Different magics have different restrictions.” He shrugged again. “If it was Carla, do you think she was attempting to bring you under control via Bia’s Blade?”
“Who else could it be? I don’t think I’ve pissed anyone else off of late. Besides, the visions I’ve had do suggest they’re extremely annoyed at the time we’re taking to find the Harpē, so maybe they’ve decided to exert a little more control over matters.”
Mathi snorted. “If they want it found sooner, then perhaps they should throw a few clue scraps in our direction. Or simply order one of the councilors they have under their control to move the Harpē up the list.”
“They can’t do that without raising the suspicions of everyone else.” I bit into the butty again and blissed out for a few seconds. “Was their anything useful in the rest of the stuff Macsen stole?”
“There was a recent building purchase I thought we could check out once we’ve finished breakfast. It’s the most likely to hold something of interest.”
“And, therefore, more likely to be the most secure.”
“No doubt, but I can get around most alarms.”
“And if you can’t?”
“I shall employ Locryn’s services again.”
We didn’t have the time Locryn would need to tunnel... and I had no idea why I was so certain of that. I frowned. “I need to take the pectoral back to Liadon first.”
“The council want it returned. They won’t be happy if it’s taken elsewhere.”
“Do you care?”