THIRTY-SEVEN
Anxiety snarled Aly’s insides and she leapt from her chair, pacing the small parlour in Calum’s house.
She’d searched all of Grant’s caches—all the ones she knew about, anyway—but found no fae ointment, only poison.
It had been a risk, searching them, but she’d already opened one for Yvaani and besides, she had to know she’d exhausted all other options.
She didn’t want to steal from Yvaani—not ever, but especially not now that their friendship had begun to re-form—but she owed it to Flora, to every missing salch, to try.
She’d been so close to becoming one of them, when Grant had nearly drained her and left her still unconscious in the flat.
Cameron’s last words on the matter echoed back to her.
She could still be one of them, only safe because so few people knew she was a salch, and those who did—other than Grant—had her trust.
It had been one thing when she believed Flora to have been killed at a new salching market.
There was little use in tracking a waterlogged corpse.
But now, with Cameron’s assertion that no one had heard of a new salching market, she couldn’t escape the knowledge that Flora could still be alive. Alive and imprisoned.
“If you got hold of fae ointment, are you absolutely certain you’d be able to track Flora?” The words were out before she could second-guess herself.
Calum was sat in front of the fire, his elbows on his knees.
His face was drawn, and he looked weary in a way Aly had never seen him.
Learning that his one friend in the police had betrayed them to Grant had left him deflated.
“Not absolutely certain, no. I don’t know for sure what’s blocking me.
But I do believe it’s magical in nature, and in that case the fae ointment would help.
” He tilted his head, giving her an appraising look. “Why?”
Aly worried at her lower lip. “I might know how to get hold of some.”
“That’s brilli— What’s wrong?”
“It means stealing from a—a friend.” She didn’t meet his eyes as she said this, didn’t want to see the inevitable judgement on his face. She was a thief, he knew that, but admitting to considering stealing from a friend was a low even for her.
“Can’t you just ask this friend? Surely they’ll help if they understand what you need it for.”
“It’s not that simple. I—I don’t know who hired her to bring it into the city, but a lot of folk who hire smugglers are, well, not the kind of people you want to get on the wrong side of.
” There were plenty of ordinary folk, too, those who didn’t think protectionist taxation to support farmers in the Highlands should prevent them from getting fine wool shawls from Rizhnuth or that controls on the import of magical artefacts should stop them getting the latest trends from Vaedhoun.
“She might be too afraid of her customer to give it to me. If I make the place look ransacked instead, they won’t suspect her.
She’ll lose the money from the sale, but that’s it. ”
“The friend you’re thinking of stealing from is a smuggler,” Calum repeated.
Aly’s cheeks warmed. She lifted her chin, defensive. “Were you expecting me to be friends with advocates and burgesses? I’m a crime lord’s deputy.”
“You’re friends with a copper.” He said it quietly, almost a question, as though he expected her to deny it.
Aly gave a half-shrug. “I suppose you being the only copper in the city who isn’t bent cancels it out.”
Calum looked stricken, and Aly recalled that he’d just discovered one of the only coppers he trusted was bent. She hurriedly said, “So, do you think you can track Flora if we get hold of the fae ointment?”
“I think stealing from a crime lord is incredibly foolish. What if she catches you?”
Aly folded her arms. “She won’t. That’s what you’ll be there for.
Besides, she won’t . . .” Aly wasn’t entirely certain what Yvaani would do if she caught Aly.
She would likely sack her, possibly tell all their peers in the criminal underworld that Aly was an untrustworthy employee, but she wouldn’t kill Aly, and she wouldn’t break bones to compensate for the theft. “She won’t hurt me.”
“Because you’re her so-called friend?”
“Because she’s a good person.”
Aly expected Calum to argue with that, but instead he said, “And yet you’re planning on stealing from her.”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
“We could try paying for it.”
Aly let out a bark of laughter, but there was no mirth on Calum’s face.
“Hang on, are you serious? She won’t sell to you if she already has a buyer, and something that expensive will have a buyer, probably someone who’s paid half already.
You’d have to do the same. And even if you could afford it, you know what shipping is like in the winter.
She might not have another shipment for weeks.
How many more people are going to go missing before then? ”
Calum sighed. “Do you think she’ll get another shipment before Imbolc?”
Aly shook her head. “Likely not. Why?”
“All the disappearances are happening shortly before Quarter Days,” Calum said, scrubbing a hand over his hair.
“The only report I’ve had since Flora was Philip Hardcastle, and he’d disappeared before Samhain and just hadn’t been noticed missing for several weeks.
If we could order some and get it before Imbolc, we wouldn’t need to steal it. ”
Aly chewed on her lower lip. “Why Quarter Days?”
“I don’t know.” Calum shrugged. “They’re the days the fae sign contracts, but I’m not sure why human kidnappers would focus on them.”
“And you’re sure it’s humans behind it?” Aly asked, recalling Calum’s belief that salchs were demi-fae.
Calum nodded. “Aye. Fae take who they want when they want, no contracts involved.”
“Maybe there’s something magical to it,” Aly said.
“Like how the veil between the mortal world and Faerie is supposedly thinnest on Samhain, maybe it’s easier to take power from salchs on Quarter Days.
” She shook her head. “But if they’re only taking people before Quarter Days, then we definitely can’t wait till after Imbolc. ”
Calum let out a slow breath. “Do you have a plan?”
“The start of one, anyway.” Aly lifted a shoulder. “I know where all the goods are being stored, so it’s just a matter of searching the barrels and crates and finding it. And hoping Yvaani doesn’t show up while we’re there.”
Calum sucked his teeth. “How long do you think searching it will take?”
“It depends.” Aly tilted her head. “I can try and get a look at the ledger, but if not there’s about fifteen boxes to sort through.”
“That’s a lot for two people, especially if you’re worried Yvaani will appear.”
“What about three?”
Aly turned to see Sorcha standing in the doorway, a small smile playing at her lips.
“Absolutely not.” Calum shook his head.
Sorcha stepped into the room and sat down, stretching her long legs out ahead of her. “You say that sort of thing a lot. It starts to lose meaning.”
“Three isn’t much better than two.” Calum twisted to look at his sister, his jaw tight.
“Ah, but it is better.” Sorcha cast him a look that held glee as much as devotion.
The sight made Aly’s heart ache. She’d never had someone in her life like that, who knew her so well yet loved her unconditionally.
However much Calum and Sorcha exasperated one another at times, they would always support each other. “I’m coming with you.”
And with those words, she folded herself into their plans as neatly as a letter lock.
“Rent!” The landlord’s voice boomed through the dosshouse, startling Aly from sleep.
Scrambling to a sitting position, she reached under her pillow to retrieve her pockets.
Her stomach plummeted as her fingertips met nothing but the rough linen of her bedding.
She snatched the pillow up and tossed it aside.
Panic rose in her throat as she pawed through the bedclothes, her gaze darting about the room.
There, in the corner of the room, lay her pockets, discarded on top of her carefully folded clothes. She hurried out of bed, wincing as her bare feet met the cold stone floor, and grabbed the pockets. Her heart in her throat, she dug in each of them, already knowing what she’d find.
Her money, every last farthing of it, was gone.
The landlord stood in the doorway, leather purse in one hand, his other hand outstretched towards her.
“Someone’s stolen my money,” Aly said. She was certain she’d put her pockets under her pillow last night. She always did.
The landlord rolled his eyes. “Aye, I’ve heard that one before.”
“I’m serious.” Aly clutched the ties on her pocket so tightly her knuckles went white. “I had my purse in my pocket, and my pocket under my pillow. Someone took it while I was asleep.”
“And you didn’t wake up when someone took your pockets from directly under your pillow?”
Aly’s skin went cold. She was a light sleeper and had been for years.
Grant had never so much as rolled over in the night without her waking with a start.
But she must have been so knackered last night, after staying up into the wee hours plotting with Calum and Sorcha, that she’d slept right through the theft.
The landlord shook his head. “No rent, no bed.”
“But—” Aly started.
The landlord cut her off with a raised hand. “You have five minutes to gather your belongings and leave.”
Aly opened her mouth to protest, to offer an alternative arrangement, but he was already moving on.
With a sinking feeling in her gut, she began to dress.
Her weapons were, blessedly, untouched, and she belted them around her waist as usual.
She didn’t have time to lace up her stays, so she rolled them and wadded them into her pocket, throwing her coat on top.
Her bodice didn’t fit right without the stays; it gaped and strained in awkward places.