Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Gus
ABOVE THE DOOR TO O’SHEA’S HUNG a carved wooden sign with a complex Celtic knot.
The magic flowing through the design was palpable, but I couldn’t tell what it was for.
I wanted to reach up and get a sense for it, but I had the feeling that might be frowned upon.
Giving the password opened the door and revealed a brawny man who peered at us intensely before stepping back to allow passage.
As I walked in, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Kit was following.
He hesitated at the entrance, his gaze glued to the sign, curiosity and wariness flickering across his face.
A second later his expression wiped clean, and he passed over the doorstep with a subtle shiver that the lug watching us didn’t seem to notice.
The inside of the club was all low light with shadowy nooks and crannies.
Its worn furniture and bare wood walls were nothing to write home about.
At the far end, a little stage was set up for a band, but the tinny music currently drifting into the smoky air came from a turntable.
Men and women mingled in everything from dirty coveralls to fancy dresses and expensive jewellery.
This place ran the gamut with cross-class allure, and everyone had something in common—they wanted to blow off steam.
There was dancing and gambling, dealers using intrinsic magic to shuffle the cards in showy displays.
We’d made it a few steps inside when the song switched over to the next. Suddenly, the familiar tinkling piano that signalled the start of Hoagy Carmichael’s Stardust filled the room. Beside me, Kit tensed, and I almost stumbled over my own feet.
What were the odds? I hadn’t heard it in years, and now here it was, mocking me.
I could almost feel Kit in my arms, shaking with laughter as he tried teaching me to dance in my living room, Elsie giggling on the sofa and telling Kit it was her turn next while John pretended to be sick.
Ted was sprawled in the corner with a pack of cards playing solitaire.
Henry must’ve been up in his room, Mum at an event she planned to write up for the paper.
The aching wish to crawl back into that moment and live it again sank deep in my bones and squeezed the breath from my lungs. We were all so happy. Alive.
Shaking it off, I angled for the bar, weaving around a few occupied tables.
On the back wall behind a tall wooden bar—the only polished piece of wood in the place—were rows of shelves bearing jewellery, pocket watches, compasses, gloves, and at least dozen household items. The lowest shelf was packed full of clear vessels that contained colourful swirling liquids.
Charms and potions. Probably all kinds of illegal, though some of them could be garden variety concealment or protection.
The magic in them shivered along my awareness, same as the Celtic knot on the door.
Maybe the mage who’d done it was responsible for these too.
As we neared, the man staffing the bar looked up from the conversation he was having with a few people. He rolled his eyes and muttered something to them before he moved to serve us.
“Help you, gents?” he asked, dark brows lifted over equally dark eyes. He was mid-twenties with broad shoulders and a mop of brown hair. Good-looking in the way rough types can be. Women probably loved him. Some men too.
“First time here,” I said, offering him what I hoped was a disarming smile. “What have you got?”
His gaze raked me over, and he wrinkled his nose in mild disgust. “Soda water or apple cider.”
Obviously, he thought something about me said police, though I wasn’t.
You couldn’t legally serve alcohol in hotels, taverns, or restaurants.
People could buy it from the liquor commission, but despite the death of Prohibition, the city and province still stubbornly clung to the last shreds of temperance.
A denial hovered on the tip of my tongue, but what was the point?
I wasn’t after alcohol anyhow. As I was about to order a couple ciders, Kit spoke over me.
“I have some questions for Meggie O’Shea. Can you point her out?”
Surprise flashed across the bartender’s face. “Got a name, pal?”
“Kit Lovely. She knows my brother Ted.”
“Your funeral,” he said, matter of fact. “Hey, Meggie!”
“What the hell, Kit?” I hissed, grabbing his upper arm. “What happened to keeping a low profile while we get the lay of the land?”
Kit shrugged but didn’t meet my eye. Instead, his gaze latched on to where an older woman sat at a table in the far corner of the room with two pretty younger gals.
One was a polished blonde in a flowy dress.
The other was a brunette in a grey suit with short hair who seemed a little tougher. Recognition flickered in Kit’s eyes.
The older woman shot an impatient look at the barman, and he motioned her over.
Must be Meggie. She hadn’t been at her daughter’s wedding, and neither Ted nor Mary-Alice had said why.
Maybe she didn’t approve of her daughter’s straight-laced boyfriend, or maybe she didn’t like Mary-Alice marrying a mage whose magic didn’t work right.
Some people had the notion a woman needed to get herself hitched to someone with enough magic to protect her, but if what I’d heard over the last few days about the O’Shea family was true, Mary-Alice ought to have more than enough ability to make up for Ted’s lack.
A month ago, in passing, Mary-Alice had mentioned seeing her mother. It wasn’t my business, so I didn’t pry. She’d been talking to Ted, not me. Now, I wondered if they were still estranged or if they’d resolved their issues in that encounter.
Meggie was intimidating in brown slacks with matching suspenders and a white button up.
She was shorter than me by a couple inches, and the look on her face broadcast her confidence.
She was the kind of woman who could handle anything thrown her way and force whoever threw it to regret every choice they ever made.
The crackling aura of power surrounding her probably had something to do with her attitude.
The tall tales people told about her might not be so tall after all.
“Meet your—” The barman paused and scratched under his chin. “What do you call your daughter’s husband’s brother, anyway?”
“His name,” Meggie said, sarcasm thick. “So you’re the famous Kit Lovely, huh?
Or I guess you go by Daring now.” She looked Kit over and smirked.
“With that face I’m not surprised you changed the last name.
Must’ve been hard to get anyone to take you serious when you got a boy scout’s face and a matching name to boot. ”
“It sure didn’t help,” he admitted with a wry grin.
“So, what are you doing here, Mr. Daring?” Meggie asked, crossing her arms and leaning her hip against the bar. “Shouldn’t you be over in Germany sticking your nose in other people’s business?”
Great, her back was already up, and we hadn’t even started.
I hoped Kit was happy with how he jumped the gun.
If he thought these were the kinds of people he could charm with a little wit and his cute smile, he had another thing coming.
Hardened criminals weren’t going to fall for his aww, shucks line.
Butting in, I cut to the chase. “You had to have heard Ted and Mary-Alice are missing, by now. We’re trying to track them.”
“So what are you here for then?” she challenged. “Think we got ‘em stashed in a back room?”
“Do you? That’d save us some legwork.”
Meggie laughed, not a nice one. Hard as nails and twice as rusty. “We don’t got enough room to hide a rat in a shithouse around here.” Her attention shifted to Kit, her gaze sharp and searching. “The way I hear it, the Mounties think your brother killed my girl and skipped town.”
Kit’s face flushed, but he kept his mouth shut until he got his temper under control. “If you ever met Ted, you’d know he couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a woman.”
“Men can surprise you,” she said, bitterly. “Sometimes the sweetest seeming ones fly off the handle hardest.”
“Not Ted,” I told her firmly. If she thought Mary-Alice was dead, there was no way she’d help us.
“There’s things I doubt you know about him,” she countered, glancing Kit up and down.
Her intrinsic magic reached out toward him, and I tensed, but it only caressed him, sizing up his own imperfect magic.
“Or maybe you already know, hmm, Mr. Daring? Though Ted seemed shocked as hell when I told him, so maybe not.”
“Shocked about what?” Kit asked, something shaky in his tone. “Does it have something to do with the sign out front?”
“I’m surprised it let you in at all. It’s meant to keep them out. You had to push through it, I’ll bet. Made your mouth taste like blood?”
Kit nodded. “Why?”
Meggie stared flatly at him for long enough it made Kit pale. “You got fae in you,” she said finally, her voice heavy with disgust.
This was the second time I’d heard someone mention the fae, in too short a timeframe. First Russ’s hesitant admission about relics, and now Meggie was… what? Claiming Kit was one of them? It was so ridiculous I almost laughed at the accusation. I knew Kit inside and out; he was as human as I was.
Kit seemed to take her seriously, though. “How much?”
“Half.” She continued to carefully evaluate Kit’s expression. “Your mother was the only fae I ever met who I didn’t think deserved it when she died.”
Kit swallowed hard. “You knew my mother?”