Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
A lexander MacTire hadn’t abducted Nick and the Crushers had nothing to do with his disappearance. The forget-me-not spell indicated that the kidnapping had been carefully planned; whoever had taken Nick had gone to great expense and trouble, and there had to be a reason why. Was he still alive? The more time that passed, the less chance there was that the boy was alright.
The fury I felt at the unidentified kidnapper more than trumped my fatigue. I wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot.
The river market was in full swing when I returned to Trilby’s stall. I was early but I reckoned they’d forgive me. I waited in line, sandwiched between a tired-looking witch with several children in tow, whom I vaguely recognised, and a young druid whom I’d never seen before. He appeared to be suffering from a nasty bout of agriwort-induced scabies; he’d been calling on powers beyond his ken.
I refrained from passing comment; we all had our problems and you never knew what someone was going through unless you’d walked a mile in their shoes. I did take care not to brush against him, though; I had no desire to be in the shoes of someone with suppurating boils.
When we shuffled forward, the witch in front of me asked Trilby how much they were charging for a four-leaf clover charged with silver. With a catch in her voice, she asked if they’d be prepared to give her a discount if she bought three of them.
While Trilby hummed and hawed with their usual bargaining skills, I glanced at the trio of children around her skirt and realised where I recognised her from: she lived in the block of flats that had been bombarded by the ban sith’s wails the previous night. Somebody in that block was going to die soon and the witch was trying to fix the odds against it being any of her kids. Trilby’s special four-leaf clovers would do the trick but they weren’t cheap, and from the state of her threadbare clothes, the woman didn’t have any money to spare. She wasn’t trying to buy a talisman for herself; she was desperate to protect her children.
I pushed myself up onto my tiptoes and caught Trilby’s eye. They raised an eyebrow and I nodded. Trilby shrugged. ‘It looks like I’ve more in stock than I realised,’ they said to the witch. ‘I’ll do you a deal. You can have three—’ they glanced at me ‘—make that four, for fifty quid.’
I frowned and shook my head. ‘Sorry,’ Trilby muttered. ‘Did I say fifty? I meant twenty.’ One silver-charged four-leafed clover sold for ￡60 on the open market, so four for ￡20 was ridiculous. I smiled happily.
‘Four for twenty?’ the witch asked incredulously.
‘I can’t get rid of the damned things,’ Trilby said. ‘They’re taking up too much shelf space and their power is already diminishing. In another few days I’ll have to throw them away. But it’s up to you. If you don’t want them?— ’
The witch interrupted them. ‘I’ll take them.’
‘Thought you might.’ Trilby bagged them up, the witch paid and moved to the side so I could take her place at the front of the queue. I passed them ￡200. They counted it, nodded and tucked the money away. ‘Soft touch,’ they mouthed at me.
I shrugged. I was hardly perfect; I used to kill people for a living.
‘Have you tested the fabric?’ I asked. ‘Have you got an answer for me?’
‘It’s only been a few hours, Kit,’ Trilby protested. ‘And I’ve got a stall to run. I can’t drop everything just for you.’
‘Trilby—’
They sniffed. ‘Yes, I’ve got an answer – but it’s going to cost you and you’re not going to like it.’
No surprises on either count. ‘Fine,’ I said.
Trilby held up a folded note. ‘Eight hundred.’
That was actually cheaper than I’d expected. I counted out the money and passed it over then took the note and opened it. There were only two words: Death cap. I stared at them then a moment later I crumpled the paper into a ball.
In its most potent powdered form, death cap would kill someone within twelve hours. Quack really hated her alpha.
‘You’re welcome,’ Trilby said.
I inclined my head in acknowledgment of their work. Trilby was right, though: I didn’t like it.
They pointed at the crumpled paper. ‘You ought to take care, Kit. I’d hate to lose one of my best customers.’ Although their words were light, there was serious concern behind those dark eyes.
‘I wasn’t the target,’ I said.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
I started to step away but they raised a hand. ‘Before you go,’ they murmured. ‘As you’re such a good customer, there’s something else I should tell you.’
‘Go on.’
‘About an hour ago somebody came by the stall and asked me if I had any forget-me-not spells in stock.’
I stiffened. ‘Who?’
‘A male werewolf. Short red hair, pale skin. I’ve not seen him around here before so I don’t know his name.’
‘Which way did he go?’ I snarled softly.
‘He headed towards Black’s, but I lost sight of him pretty quickly.’ Trilby waved a hand towards the queue behind me. ‘I’ve had a busy morning.’
I met their eyes. ‘Thank you,’ I said, meaning it. ‘You’ve helped me a lot.’
They swept a bow. ‘Any time, Kit. Any time. Take care out there.’
I wasn’t the one who had to take care. I managed to smile through gritted teeth, spun on my heel and jogged towards the coffee shop. If I had to kill that damned ginger werewolf in public while he munched on a cupcake and drank the best coffee in town, then I absolutely would.
I swung open the glass door to Black’s with so much force that it threatened to come off its hinges. Every single head turned towards me and the wait staff, who recognised me, glanced over to check that I didn’t have any grumpy werewolves on my heels. Chance would be a fine thing. It wasn’t Quack and Ribbit whom I wanted to see, it was the mysterious ginger wanker who was dogging my steps and who was surely involved in Nick’s abduction.
I marched in and stared hard at every occupied table. Nobody here was a wolf, not today. I strode towards the toilet and yanked on the door. It was locked. I growled and yanked harder. ‘Fuck off!’ yelled a very annoyed, very female voice. ‘I’ve got my period!’
I spun around, preparing to head into the kitchen and check that the errant fucker wasn’t hiding in there but before I could take a step Black himself blocked my path. ‘It’s time for you to leave.’
‘I’m looking for someone. A werewolf.’
He shook his head. ‘There aren’t any wolves here.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
He met my eyes. ‘Yes.’
It was rare that I lost my temper; in my old line of work anger was an emotion that was not permitted. Anyone who killed in anger had no place as an assassin and I’d long since trained myself to tamper down anything beyond mild irritation.
I realised that I was taking Nick’s abduction personally. He’d been attacked under my roof and I’d promised Alexander MacTire that he’d be safe, so it wasn’t surprising that my blood was boiling. But it wasn’t helpful.
I closed my eyes for three beats then opened them again. ‘Please accept my apologies, Mr Black. I’m having a difficult day but that is no excuse for my behaviour.’
‘It’s not a problem. I was concerned about you after your visit yesterday.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘That is good.’
I relaxed my shoulders. Calm, Kit: be She Who Loves Sunbeams, not She Who Hisses. ‘I’m looking for a werewolf. Somebody told me he was heading in this direction.’
Black nodded, as if that were perfectly normal. ‘We did have a werewolf customer an hour or so ago. He bought several pastries and took some coffee to go. He didn’t linger and I didn’t watch which way he went.’
‘What did he look like?’ I asked. I had to be sure.
Black pursed his lips. ‘Short red hair. A fair bit of stubble. He appeared … unkempt.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He didn’t look as if he’d enjoyed a hot shower or a proper meal for several days.’
Well, at least that was some information. ‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘We look after our own, Ms McCafferty. You’re a part of Danksville now.’
This time I gave him a genuine smile. ‘Thank you,’ I repeated. It was difficult to judge on a day-to-day basis how much success I’d achieved in becoming part of the community here, so it was good to learn that my efforts hadn’t been in vain. I really was putting down roots – and that made what happened to Nick hurt even more.
Black crooked his finger at the young woman behind the counter. ‘Liesel, you served the wolf. What was his name?’
I stilled. Of course: anyone ordering a coffee to go would have given their name to make it easier to collect the drink when it was ready. I crossed my fingers tightly, praying that Liesel would come through.
Her brow creased as she tried to remember then her expression cleared. ‘Shane. That’s what I wrote on his cup.’
Shane, like the mysterious gunslinger in that old Western book. I shivered. It was appropriate. I’m going to find you, Shane , I promised silently. Sooner or later.
As soon as I stepped outside the coffee shop, I scanned the busy market. Perhaps Shane was still here, ambling around the stalls. Perhaps he was watching me from a dark corner. Perhaps …
A hesitant voice interrupted my thoughts. ‘Hi, there.’
I glanced to my right. It was the harassed mother who’d bought the clover talismans from Trilby. ‘Uh, hello,’ I said.
She didn’t smile. Two of the younger kids, apparently already bored by the market, were kicking clods of dirt at each other. Cats were much, much easier than kids. ‘I know that was you that paid for the clover.’ Her hands twisted together. ‘I’m not usually a charity case. I’m having a hard time right now and there’s a ban sith…’
‘I know,’ I said. I gave her a meaningful look. ‘I wasn’t taking pity on you. I only wanted to help.’
‘I’ll pay you back – when I get the money, I mean. I’ll make sure you get it all back.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’ I tried to bolster her quiet dignity. ‘I live around the corner from you and the last thing I want is a ban sith in the area. If those talismans encourage her to move on, then I win.’
The woman bit her lip. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. She nudged the oldest child, a boy who was standing beside her and staring vacantly into the distance. ‘Tell her,’ she said. ‘Tell the lady what you know, Adrian.’
He shook himself into focus. ‘Uh … the man I heard you asking about.’
My eyes widened. ‘Yes?’
‘He’s a werewolf.’
I nodded warily. ‘I know.’
The boy shrugged awkwardly. ‘He’s been sleeping in the old Galbraith building, in a room on the third floor.’
My mouth dropped open and I stared at the boy while his mother filled in the blanks. ‘Adrian sneaks in there from time to time, even though he knows he’s not supposed to. He knows it’s haunted. ’
It wasn’t, but that wasn’t important right now. ‘You’ve seen him in there?’
The boy nodded. ‘He gave me some chocolate and told me to stay away for a few days.’
I sucked in a breath then returned my gaze to his mother. ‘That information is worth far more than a few talismans.’
‘In that case,’ she said, ‘I’m glad we could help.’