Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
I barely got sixty winks but I knew my body and how to deal with less sleep than I’d grown accustomed to enjoying. There were plenty of hours left before I hit my physical limits, and I wanted to reach Trilby before they opened up their stall for the day. I was on a mission and I didn’t have time to arse around in a queue before I could talk to them.
I dropped kibble into bowls for all five cats and reassured them again that I wasn’t angry with them for not preventing Nick’s abduction. The kid wasn’t their responsibility, he was mine. Then I checked on She Who Hisses, who flatly refused to come out from behind the boxes but did miaow to let me know she appreciated the food I was leaving for her and that she was on the mend. Perhaps she was softening towards me.
‘This evening,’ I promised, ‘when we can be sure that your injuries have healed enough. That’s when I’ll let you go.’
With my immediate tasks completed, I rushed to the river market. A weak dawn had already spread its way across the sky and several of my neighbours were stirring. I waved at them; they’d eyed me with considerable suspicion when I’d first moved in and I’d had to work hard to be accepted. The presence of a werewolf-driven car the previous day would have diminished my standing in many eyes, so I had some ground to make up. There was no reason not to start now.
Trilby was setting out the last of their wares by the time I arrived at the market. It was surprisingly busy despite the early hour, but the queues were forming by the baker’s stall and Natasha’s butchery; locals who required Trilby’s services would doubtless pitch up later.
I strolled up and eyed the display. It was mostly innocuous: a few love potions that every person in Coldstream with half a brain cell knew would never work; some herbs to enhance perimeter security, and several bottles of dubious moonshine to which the authorities would turn a blind eye. Trilby kept the good stuff out of sight.
‘Kit!’ They spread their arms wide and beamed as I approached. The eponymous trilby hat perched on their head jiggled slightly. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes.’
I didn’t smile back. ‘Good morning, Trilby.’ I folded my arms. There was no point beating around the bush so I didn’t waste my breath. ‘You’ve been selling magic catnip without telling me.’
They didn’t miss a beat. ‘You’re not the only cat lady in town, Kit.’
‘Since when did werewolves seek out cats?’ I enquired.
‘Ah.’ Trilby nodded. ‘I did seek assurances from that particular customer that no felines would be harmed. I believed her. Was I wrong to do so?’
No, but that wasn’t the point. I glowered but Trilby only shrugged. ‘You could hunt down the werewolf and steal the catnip off her. You’ll probably have to kill her first, of course.’ They grinned as if the thought that I’d kill anyone, let alone a werewolf, was hilarious. ‘If you do that, don’t dispose of the body until you’ve spoken to me. Ground up werewolf bones are excellent for curing cancer.’
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, yeah.
Trilby’s smirk grew. ‘So I’ve heard. And apparently werewolf blood can be used to invoke demons.’
I folded my arms. I wasn’t in the mood for old wives’ tales or Trilby’s warped idea of humour, and I certainly wasn’t stupid enough to chase after Samantha to steal her damned catnip. I liked my head and my limbs where they were, thank you very much. ‘Do you still have some of that catnip in stock?’ I’d buy all of it if I could.
‘Alas, it was only a small batch, but next time I promise I’ll let you know that I’ve got some.’
I moved on to more pressing matters. ‘What about forget-me-not spells? Any of those under that counter?’
Trilby blinked. ‘Now why would a lovely lady such as yourself be interested in powerful magic like that?’
I knew they didn’t expect an answer; Trilby was one of the few people in Danksville who understood there was far more to me than met the eye. They hadn’t been so crass as to ask me directly but I knew they’d asked around about me. I also knew that sooner or later Trilby would find out about my past career, not because people had loose lips but because Trilby was so good at worming out secrets. But I wasn’t going to make it easy for them.
After several beats of silence, Trilby sighed and gave in. ‘No. I haven’t had any forget-me-not spells on my books for a long time. Few people around here can cover those sorts of costs and the ones who can don’t need to come to me.’
It was a fair argument and I appreciated Trilby taking the time to make it. ‘Fine,’ I said.
‘Is there anything else? You do appear to be in rather a demanding mood today.’ They were still angling for information but they’d need to be a lot more subtle than that if they were going to weasel anything out of me.
As it happened, I did have something else to ask them. I took my carefully folded black top out of my bag. ‘An unidentifiable liquid was spilled on this last night. I want to know what it is.’
They made no move to take it from me. ‘I take it that it’s probably not beer?’
‘That would be a fair assumption.’
Interest sparked in Trilby’s eyes. ‘Is it dangerous?’
‘Not to bare skin but I expect that nasty things might happen if you were to ingest it.’
‘I see. It will take time to retrieve the answers you require. If you return tomorrow…’
I shook my head. ‘That’s too long. How about midday?’
They sucked air in through their teeth. ‘No can do, Kit.’ I waited and Trilby raised their eyes heavenward. ‘Fine. But it’ll cost you.’
‘I can pay.’
‘Yes,’ they said. ‘I do believe you can. I’ll do my best.’
I inclined my head and allowed a small smile now that I’d got my way. ‘Thank you.’
Trilby doffed their hat. ‘Any time, Kit. Any time.’
Several of the other stallholders were watching me, including Natasha; doubtless they were curious about what had happened to me yesterday. I wondered if they’d seen Quack and Ribbit limp out of the alleyway.
I debated the merits of pausing at one of the other stalls to casually mention the encounter and suggest there’d been a third party involved. I didn’t want to get a reputation as a hard arse, not here, but the less I said about the matter, the faster the rumours would die away. It wasn’t always wise to add fuel to the fire.
With that in mind, I left the market. Although the construction team that had supposedly employed Nick was low on my list of suspects, I couldn’t discount it. It would be a good time to check in and make sure its staff were not involved.
Once upon a time the area known as the Glebe had been owned by the Christian church, but as the Preternatural community started to grow Coldstream was mostly abandoned by organised religion. Preternaturals were considered to be less than wholesome, and religious figures of all denominations were viewed with equal suspicion.
In recent years there had been a return to some of the older ways. Worshippers of the Masked God, who were considerably better organised than their peers, had been particularly successful in gaining both followers and wealth. As devotees of one of the divine entities benignly associated with death, the members of the Church of the Masked God had accrued a number of legacies – there was nothing quite like impending death to encourage people to make bequests to smooth their path to eternal life.
The more fiscally responsible devotees had taken those legacies and put them to good use, buying up swathes of unused land from the departed Christian church. As in any large group of people there were pockets of corruption but, for the most part, the Masked God’s followers were doing good work. The thriving community they were building in the Glebe was evidence of that but there was still a lot of building to be done, which was why there were so many construction crews located in the warehouses on the Glebe’s fringes.
Although I hadn’t heard of the Crushers until Nick had mentioned them, it didn’t take long to track them down. From what I could tell from the outside, they were neither the richest nor the poorest of construction workers; their warehouse was relatively modest but there was a decent bustle in and around the area.
From the materials they were transporting – often by hand as they didn’t seem to own any trucks – they were establishing a small docking area for the sole use of the Glebe inhabitants. Anyone who might be resistant to becoming a follower of the Masked God in order to live in the Glebe might be swayed by the convenience and community that was being developed. It wasn’t my bag but I had no reason to take umbrage with what they were doing.
If there was one thing I’d learned over the years it was that the majority of people were simply people, regardless of who or what they worshipped, the numbers in their bank account or their proclivities once they were behind closed doors.
I was unclear whether the Crushers were Masked God devotees; Nick hadn’t mentioned anything and I didn’t know enough to be sure either way. My hour spent watching their activities from across the street didn’t shed any light on the matter.
I knew that werewolves were not interested in their religion, although it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that a few overzealous worshippers might decide that forcing a wolf to join them would be good publicity for their cause. It seemed unlikely, but I had to remain open to all options.
There was too much hustle and bustle for a sneaky incursion so, growing bored with just watching, I drew back my shoulders and walked across the road to talk to the Crushers. A group of burly trolls passed me hefting long planks of wood. Their gritted teeth suggested they weren’t in the mood for conversation so I spoke to an older woman sitting outside the warehouse on an upturned bucket. ‘Hi there! ’
She barely looked up. ‘I’m on my break.’
‘I’m looking for Tommy.’ I gave the name of the foreman Nick had mentioned.
‘He’s inside.’ She jerked her thumb towards the warehouse. ‘If you’re looking for work, you’re in luck. We’re so short-handed we’ll take on anyone – even the likes of you.’
I didn’t take offence; after all, little about my appearance suggested I’d ever worked in construction. I didn’t possess bulging muscles and my clothes were those of an unthreatening middle-aged woman. We all judge books by their covers whether we admit it or not.
‘Thanks,’ I said cheerfully and ambled inside. So far the Crushers were far friendlier than their name suggested.
The warehouse smelled of sawdust and earthy magic. Despite what the woman had said, there were plenty of people inside marching to and fro, lifting equipment, arranging tools and preparing for the day’s work. The building projected an atmosphere of focused business and I understood why Nick had been excited about working here. This was a company that, despite its name, took its work seriously.
I spotted the small office on the left-hand side. The foreman, the half-ogre called Tommy, would probably be in there so I made a beeline for it.
The door was ajar so I knocked once, pushed it open without waiting for an answer and strode in. I sat on a dusty chair opposite a burly man wearing a high-vis vest who was muttering to himself as he studied a clipboard. He glanced up when I cleared my throat, swept his eyes up and down my body and turned an interesting shade of pale.
‘We’re only two days behind,’ he said. ‘We’ll make up the hours before the solstice. As I told your representative yesterday, I can assure you that the tower project will be completed on time. There’s no need for concern. ’
I didn’t say anything.
‘I’ve given my word,’ he said stiffly. ‘I am well aware of what will happen if we don’t meet your targets.’
I remained silent.
He ran a hand over his balding head. ‘We’re not cowboys. We won’t cut corners to meet the deadline either.’
I raised an eyebrow.
‘And I’ll add a discount to your final bill. Five percent – how does that sound?’
His nostrils flared when I still didn’t respond. ‘Alright! Ten percent, but I can’t do any better than that.’
It was rare to witness an ogre – or even a half-ogre – panicking. A thick blue vein was bulging in his forehead and he was gripping the clipboard with such force that his knuckles were white.
‘I’m not who you think I am,’ I said gently and held out my hand. ‘My name is Kit McCafferty. I want to ask you about a young lad who you employed yesterday.’
Tommy’s massive shoulders sagged; his relief was so strong I could almost taste it. ‘You’re not from the church?’
‘No.’
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘You should have said that at the start.’
‘The Church of the Masked God members aren’t usually the ball-breaking sort,’ I said, intrigued by his reaction.
‘Not usually,’ he agreed. ‘But they want this project completed by the solstice. They’re building a new tower as part of this year’s celebrations. We needed the contract so I said we’d get it done by then. I thought we could manage it easily but we’re short staffed and we keep coming up against problems…’
His voice trailed off as he realised he’d allowed stress to get the better of him and said too much. Clearly he’d been over- optimistic with his time estimates in order to bag the church gig and now he was regretting the promises he’d made and the contract he’d signed. ‘We’ll get it done, though. We’ll definitely get it done.’
‘You’ve given them your word that you will?’ I asked. ‘That’s a risk, regardless of the situation.’
He pressed his thin lips together. I’d obviously asked one question too many. ‘My apologies,’ I said briskly. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’
He offered me a curt nod and got to his feet. ‘We’re too busy to take on any new clients. I can recommend the Busters next door.’
There appeared to be a theme to the names that construction crews gave themselves. ‘I’m not looking to hire anyone,’ I said quickly before he threw me out. ‘I’m only here to ask about someone you employed yesterday.’
The ogre’s expression cleared. ‘You said that already. A young lad? The werewolf kid?’
I nodded again.
‘You’re not from his pack? You’re not a wolf?’
‘He’s unbound. He’s a lone wolf.’
The ogre blinked. ‘He told me that. I didn’t believe him but…’ He gestured helplessly.
‘You’re desperate for workers.’
‘Yeah. I wouldn’t usually take on werewolves, unbound or otherwise, but we need all the help we can get.’
I nodded for a third time, to show him that I empathised. I wasn’t there to complain about his hiring practices. ‘He told me about you. You’re Tommy, right?’
The ogre grunted assent. ‘Yeah. The kid was supposed to show up first thing this morning but he’s not here yet.’
I considered telling him the truth but I couldn’t risk the news that Nick had been kidnapped getting back to Alexander MacTire. ‘He’s found other work,’ I lied smoothly. ‘He was too embarrassed to come and tell you himself.’
I watched the foreman’s reaction; he was disappointed but not surprised. There was no suggestion that Tommy or any of the other Crushers had anything to do with Nick’s disappearance; for a start, they were too busy to focus on one potential employee.
‘I appreciate the heads up,’ Tommy said, ‘but he should have told me himself.’
‘Yeah, he should have.’ I pulled a face. ‘Kids these days, eh?’
Tommy rolled his eyes resignedly while I apologised silently to Nick. If I ever found him – and if he wasn’t dead – I would make this right for him.
‘Thanks for dropping by,’ the foreman said. ‘I have to get back to work.’
‘Sure.’ I moved towards the door. ‘By the way, what spell are you using here? Is it a productivity thing that you pump through the warehouse?’ He shot me a look. ‘Your team are over-worked but nobody out there is complaining,’ I continued.
‘I pay them good wages.’
Uh-huh.
The ogre lowered his voice. ‘And it’s not a productivity spell, It’s just a simple contentment potion that we add to the coffee urn.’
I knew it. ‘I’d be careful with that if I were you,’ I told him.
He looked away. ‘I know, but I can’t afford to lose any more workers right now. It’s only a temporary measure.’
I hoped so because those sorts of spells had a way of backfiring. I offered him a half-smile and then I left.