Chapter Three #3
Dearg leaped fifteen feet across the clearing in a pounce more tiger than a wolf.
Baareo tried to block him with his shield spell, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Dragon’s Breath crackled and spat as Dearg swung at the centaur’s head.
The ‘taur’s face contorted with rage and fear as he used his battleaxe to block the stroke.
He reared, slashing at Dearg with his front hooves.
My heart rammed my throat as the prince’s shield spell flared, deflecting the blow though the kick knocked him flying.
Baareo leaped after him, trying to stomp him into paste. Dearg twisted in midair, throwing himself into an airborne spin. Dragon’s Breath hissed eagerly as it arched at the centaur’s chest. The ‘taur barely managed to block the stroke with his spell shield…
Which abruptly condensed in a sword he drove at Dearg’s chest.
I barely managed to bite back the scream as the blade missed his heart to stab into his side. Blood flew in a crimson arc. Baareo had hit an artery. I raced out of the trees, praying I could get there in time…
Instead of going down, Dearg landed like a cat and retreated, smooth and controlled, magic flaring blue around him.
And he was human again, the transformation having healed him when it replaced his body. A second blast of magic dressed him in Sidhe plate armor, Dragon’s Breath howling in fury. Without missing a beat, he parried the centaur’s next axe stroke, his sword a shield again.
Baareo never saw me coming as I whipped my blade into a savage diagonal strike across his haunches, cutting deep. This time his blood flew.
The centaur roared in rage, staggering in a circle and whipping his axe at my head. He was fast as hell, but I was smaller and quicker, and I jumped out of the way, avoiding the stroke.
Magic gathered around the ‘taur, and I knew Baareo was trying to heal the injury. Now! Now while he was distracted… My blade flicked out, slicing across his right arm. Blood splatter flew.
But he’d healed the haunch wound while I was distracted. Now he backed away… Damn near running right onto Dragon’s Breath as Dearg brought the great blade up in a savage swing at his head. The centaur ducked, spun on his haunches, and leaped…
Right into the dimensional gate that had appeared while we were distracted.
Cursing, I cast a quick tracking spell. I sure as hell wasn’t following him through his gate -- he could cut it off and kill me halfway through.
Getting a lock on the destination, I conjured my own gate and ran for the shimmering doorway, almost colliding with Dearg as he beat me to it. I dove through on his heels.
On the other side, we both slid to a stop, swearing. We stood in jungle-thick brush somewhere on Immortal Earth, going by the feel of the magic.
Which was all well and good -- except there were six different open dimensional gates and no sign of Baareo.
“What in the Egg?” I spat, spinning as I glared at each in turn. All six floated over some kind of gemstone gate generator. Using generator gates meant there was no magical signature to lock in on and track him down.
“Which one did he take?” Dearg demanded, his lips pulled back in a snarl that would have done credit to his Dire Wolf, though he was still Sidhe from his last healing transformation. He took a half-step toward the closest, but I grabbed his arm.
“Don’t. By the time we determine the one he took, he’ll be gone, unless we get lucky on the first try.”
Dearg swore. “And that’s assuming the bastard didn’t set the others to open over a volcano or the middle of the ocean.”
Dragon’s Breath spat a veritable explosion of sparks that made Dearg flinch and swear. “What the fuck do you want out of me?” he growled, glaring at it. “I’d have to be an idiot to step through any of these.”
He turned to me, obvious concern in his eyes. “You okay? That kick…”
“He broke some ribs, but I healed them.”
“Speaking of which,” he said in a voice like iced steel, “since when do you prance up behind a strange horse, much less a Maeve-cursed centaur warrior? You’re lucky he didn’t kick you in the head.” He caught my hand and waved open a gate of his own.
Fighting my instinct to feed him a magical pop across his handsome mouth, I let him haul me through the gate.
We stepped out in front of the department.
I wrenched out of his grip, my temper steaming.
“Watch it, wolf!” I spat, my sword in one hand, the other clenched in a fist that ached to punch him in the royal chin.
I was only slightly mollified when he looked wary, as if it had dawned on him that he’d transgressed.
Unfortunately, I also knew he was right.
I blew out a breath. “Okay, you have a point. Especially since the woods looked like the spot where he killed me in your vision.” I sighed, turned my sword back into a baton, and slid it into its holster on my belt.
“I should have realized Baareo was the centaur you Saw. I just thought this was more of his mean streak on coke.” I ground my teeth and admitted, “A mistake which could have killed both of us.”
He studied me. “So what’s the plan now?”
“I want to search his house, find out if there’s anything there to indicate who he’s working for.
This is so out of character; someone must have forced him.
Threats or blackmail, maybe holding a relative hostage.
It would have to be something pretty nasty -- all that ‘taur has ever wanted to do was act, write poetry, and sing.” I looked up at him.
“Though… I guess it could be a glamour. Did you sense any weird magic around him? Something that doesn’t fit? ”
Dearg frowned. “Nothing but the usual centaur magic.”
“Me either. And it felt like his magic, which wouldn’t have been the case with another ‘taur under a glamour. The alternative is that he was dirty all this time and I completely missed it. And why hit me now, when he’s lived in Summerwood for years without so much as a parking ticket?
The brawl last night was the one and only time he’s showed out.
Before now, anyway. Doesn’t make sense.” I frowned, hesitating.
“But this time, we should get backup.” I pulled the phone off my belt and told Siri to call the mayor.
Vildra answered, sounding ill-tempered. “What now?”
“Baareo just tried to kill me. We almost took him out, but he gated away. When we tracked him, we found six gemstone gate generators. No way to tell which one he took.”
She gave a disgusted growl. “Glad you didn’t try to guess.”
“I’ve been around way too long to be that stupid.”
Vildra snorted. “What, like five whole years?”
I’d also heard that particular snark too many times to rise to the bait. “We need to search his place, see if we can figure out who he’s working for. And why.”
She sighed. “Egg curse it, I actually liked that little idiot. All right, I’ll meet you there in five.”
* * *
It wasn’t the first time I’d visited Baareo’s home. He’d been ridiculously proud of it, with its high ceilings, oak wainscoting, thick support columns with whimsical carvings of centaurs, dragons and griffins, and a collection of magical objects he’d acquired over the years.
Now all that remained were rough-cut walls, a roof, and the floor, all made of plywood over two-by-four framing -- the physical focus for his magic. I swore, knowing what that meant.
The mayor said exactly what I was thinking.
“Well, shit.” Vildra was in her human shape -- a tall, slender woman several inches over six feet, her skin far whiter than any human’s.
She wore her silver hair in a braided crown on her head, and when she moved, iridescence shimmered over the faint scales that decorated her skin.
She wore a sky-blue pantsuit, and the rings on her long fingers blazed with power.
On the other hand, Baareo’s house had all the raw power of a burned-out Christmas tree bulb. Its warding spell was dead and the front door unlocked, so we walked right in. Dearg took one sniff, spat a musical Sidhe curse, and strode down the hall, the mayor and me on his heels.
We found Baareo lying on his side on the huge round cushion that was the ‘taur version of a bed. I’d seen it during his last cast party, when it had been a rich turquoise blue, but it was a matted rust brown now. There’s a lot of blood in a centaur.
His throat had been cut.
The actor had been dead at least twelve hours -- his corpse was in full rigor mortis, limbs stiff. The skin of his human torso was an odd shade of gray-brown, bloodless except for patches of deep bluish purple where what was left of his blood had pooled after death.
Dearg looked at me, frustrated anger in his eyes. “We fought his murderer.”
* * *
“I’ve known Baareo for years,” I growled as I stood with Vildra on a glowing magical platform we’d created to avoid disturbing the crime scene. “I’d have sworn on my Grandmother’s power that the bastard was Baareo.”
“He had me fooled too,” Vildra growled, smoke eddying from her nose. Hers was the only magic I could feel in the room, apart from Dearg’s and my own. “I can’t believe I didn’t sense a goddamn thing. Why didn’t I scent that it wasn’t him?”
Dearg stalked along a platform of his own, crouching periodically to sample the scents and scan with his magic. He was as intensely focused as any homicide detective I’d ever seen -- this wasn’t his first rodeo when it came to investigating a crime.
“Yeah, I’ve been asking myself the same question,” I told her heavily, guilt riding me hard. “Baareo was such a big, harmless goofball. Thrilled to be an actor, and surprisingly good at it. When he starred in that first hit movie, he was as proud and delighted as a kid.”
And I’d failed to protect him. It was my job, and I’d had no idea he was dead -- that I was talking to his fucking murderer. I wanted to hit something.
Preferably the bastard who killed him.