FORTY-EIGHT
It had been difficult to leave his bed that morning, with Aly exhaling a sleepy sigh when he disentangled himself from her.
They’d been awake late the previous evening, discussing the new law as she’d lain sated and warm in his arms, and they’d concluded that there were likely more salchs who had been arrested in recent days than those Calum had released.
It was too close to Imbolc to have a hope of exposing Grant to the burgh council and forcing them to rescind the law, but there was still a chance to rescue the salchs before they were sent to Faerie.
He made straight for Graham’s office when he arrived at work. “Something happened at Station House Seven yesterday that I wanted to talk to you about,” Calum said, closing the door behind him.
Graham’s expression hardened. “When you released everyone in DCI Murray’s cells, contrary to the new instructions from the chief constable?”
“Yes, that.” Calum’s skin warmed. Graham’s expression was distinctly cold, but Calum pressed on. “Don’t you find it all a bit—suspicious? Does anyone even know what’s happening with these salchs we’re being told to arrest?”
“All I know is they’re being handed over to the custody of a guild master, on the orders of the chief constable.”
Calum’s blood turned to ice. “Grant Mercer?”
Graham frowned. “How did you—?”
Calum didn’t remember moving, but he found himself pacing the room, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “He’s the Wulver.” He turned to Graham. “The chief constable has us arresting salchs and handing them over to a crime lord.”
“That is an extremely serious allegation.”
“And it’s true,” Calum snapped.
“His lawyers—”
“I don’t give a damn what his lawyers say,” Calum snarled. “I might not have evidence yet, but I know he’s the Wulver.”
Graham let out a long sigh, twisting a pen between his fingers. “The law is clear. Salchs are to be transported at the discretion of the burgh council. The chief constable’s instructions are to hand them over to Mercer to that end.”
Calum stared at Graham, his heart thundering in his chest. “Doesn’t it bother you? Going out and arresting folk for a crime of poverty and handing them over to a private citizen?”
“Whether it bothers me or not is irrelevant,” Graham retorted. His lips were pressed so tightly together the skin around them puckered. “Who’s going to hold Shaw responsible for manslaughter if you keep offending the chief constable like this? Pick your battles, Calum.”
That was it. He was done playing politics and trying to prove himself so he could do the job he’d signed up to do.
All he’d wanted to do was help people, but not like this, not when he had to look away as people were transported to Faerie if he wanted to bring Cameron’s killer to justice.
He dug his warrant card out of his pocket and tossed it on Graham’s desk.
“This is one of them.” He was breathing heavily, as though he’d run up several flights of stairs.
“I can’t be part of a system that hands over the victims of poverty to a crime lord to”—He could hardly say, to send them to Faerie—“to do with them as he pleases.”
Graham stared at the warrant card, the pen stilling in his hands. “Think very carefully about what you’re doing, Calum.” He lifted his gaze to look at Calum. “I know you didn’t release all those salchs because it helped your investigation into PC Shaw and that poor man’s death.”
Graham had a point. He’d never have been able to release all those prisoners if he wasn’t a DI.
And in doing so, he had become a bad copper, deciding when and where the law should be applied.
There hadn’t been sufficient evidence to charge the protesters, but those with scars, like Aly, should have been charged with salching.
A good copper charged people according to the law, not their own beliefs; that was how wealthy people like Grant got away with far more serious crimes while poor folk were punished more severely.
If Calum had so little faith in the law to be fair, he had no place in upholding it.
A good copper would have arrested Aly and faced the consequences, not gone home and slept with her.
He shook his head. “I can’t.” There were good people, and good actions, within the police, but that didn’t change the fact that the institution was rotten to its core.
It upheld all the inequalities of society, where Grant could get away with kidnap and murder with a few bribes, while people like Aly were arrested for crimes of poverty.
The very fact that salching was a crime, when it was something only risked by those with no other option, was proof that the system the police served was flawed—too flawed to be fixed by someone paid to enforce it.
Graham gave a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping with weariness. “You must do what you think is right. And, for what it’s worth, I hope you succeed.”
There was nothing for Calum to say in response to that, nothing for him to do but to walk out of Station House Eight for the last time and hope he hadn’t made a tremendous mistake.
Aly was sitting at the table with a large bowl of porridge before her when Calum returned home. She’d been eating properly since moving in with him and her cheeks had filled out, though her face was drawn with concern as she looked up at him.
“You’re home awfully early. Is everything all right?”
“I quit.” The words hung between them like dust motes in the air.
Calum felt numb, and as he watched Aly’s mouth move wordlessly in response to that statement, he felt a rush of shame at the rashness of his decision.
“I have savings,” he went on hurriedly. “Enough to last us several months—more, if we’re careful. ”
Aly shook her head, but the corners of her mouth were upturned in a small smile. “I’m proud of you.” Abandoning her porridge, she stood and flung her arms around him.
Calum pulled her close to him, feeling the press of her body against his, the tenderness of her fingertips stroking the nape of his neck.
He wanted to stay like that forever, to lose himself in the heather-tinged scent of her hair, but he forced himself to pull away, cupping her face and stroking his thumb across her jaw, the simple touch sending sensation up his arm.
“Aly, listen. I quit because—well, I suppose it’s been brewing for a while—but I quit because the police are handing over the salchs to Grant.”
Aly stiffened, her hands stilling on his back. “They know he’s the Wulver, don’t they?”
“I’m not sure it matters.”
Aly pulled away, shaking as she paced the small kitchen and ran trembling hands through her hair. “I have to go see him.”
The words stabbed through Calum’s heart like a blade. “What? Aly—”
“How else are we going to find out where he’s keeping them?”
Calum opened his mouth to suggest something, anything, but nothing came to mind—nothing, at least, that would get them any nearer to rescuing the salchs before Imbolc. Instead he said, trying to keep his voice level, “He’s sent two people to kill you, after he failed to do so himself.”
“He didn’t send them to kill me. He sent them to retrieve me. They tried to kill me because they want my job.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Yvaani was right. He still thinks I’ll go crawling back to him.” She straightened her shoulders. “So that’s what I’ll do.”
It was unbelievably dangerous, to stake her life on her belief that Grant didn’t want her dead anymore. Calum’s heartbeat quickened and he opened his mouth to tell her she couldn’t possibly do something so risky, but she spoke first.
“I’m doing this, and you can’t stop me.” Her face was pale, but her jaw was set.
“But there’s one part . . .” She glanced away, worrying at the tassel of her braid as she took a shaky breath.
“You know what my relationship with him was like. I might have to be—convincing.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “And I need to know—well—”
“Are you seriously asking if I’m okay with you shagging the man who tried to strangle you?”
She gave a small nod.
Calum took a step back, fury pumping through his veins. “Of course I’m not. I’m not okay with any of this. How can you think— How can you expect me to just let you go and get yourself killed?”
“There is no ‘let’.” Aly’s expression was steel. “This is my life, and my decision.”
“So I don’t get a say?” Calum retorted. “I love you, Aly. What do you think it will do to me if he kills you or”—the bottom tumbled out of his stomach at the prospect—“or sends you to Faerie? He knows you’re demi-fae.”
Aly’s mouth fell open, and she curled her fingers round the back of a chair, swaying slightly.
Then she set her jaw. “And what if he already had me? What if I was one of the salchs he’s holding captive, and someone else had the power to find out where and rescue me?
Would you want them to leave me to my fate?
This is our best chance at finding out where he’s keeping them.
I can’t avoid it just because you’re scared. ”
Calum pressed his hands into the table, bowing over.
He was suddenly exhausted. “You’re right.
” He slumped into a chair, resting his head in his hands.
“Lewis says I can be—controlling. I try so hard to keep everyone I love safe that I don’t want to let them do anything that might put them in danger.
And I want to keep you safe here, away from Grant, but it’s not my decision.
” He let out a sigh, sitting up to look at her.
“I told you last night that I trust you, Aly. And I meant it. I trust you to do what you need to do to find out where he’s keeping those captives and to get home safely. ”
Aly slid into his lap, resting her face in the crook of his neck.
“I’ll come home,” she said, as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
“I promise.” She kissed him then, and he tried to memorise the feel and scent and taste of her, the warmth of her skin beneath his hands and the press of her body against his, but all too soon she was gone, leaving him cold and hollow.