Chapter Twenty-Two #2
The waitress, a young woman of delicate features, wearing black jeans and an over-sized long-sleeved shirt, with matching green lipstick and chipped nail polish, wove toward them.
There was a slight point around the tips of her ears and soulful brown eyes, and according to her badge her name was Holly.
Rowan guessed she was a half-blood. She had the look of a fairy, but without the white aura that accompanied them. It made sense she’d work here. It was probably the only place she felt accepted.
She flipped open her pad, arched a thin eyebrow and glanced in Rowan’s direction. “Dinner or drinks?”
“Just coffee. Black.”
Walter rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, and pointed with his other to his empty mug, indicating he wanted another beer. “The last Guinness tasted off. Tell the bartender to take his time. Guinness requires a proper pour. If he needs instruction, I’m his man.”
The young woman nodded, nervously, and left as quickly as she’d appeared.
Walter bent his head and scooped up a mouthful of steak with his fork and knife before he shrugged. “Colin must have hired a new bartender. What’s our question?”
Rowan spread on the table the photos Lyons had given him of the body at Gas Works Park. “You said you might have a lead?”
Walter wiped his mouth with his napkin, pulled one of the pictures closer to him and squinted. “Where’s the body?”
“City morgue.”
“Mind if I keep these? I’ll check around some more, but I don’t think you’re going to like what I find.
As I told you on the phone, I have already made a few inquiries.
Someone’s found a way to kill Wizards and make it look like the poor sod got mixed up with drugs and shit.
No one cares if a druggie dies, or that’s the theory making the rounds. ”
The waitress returned with Rowan’s coffee just as Renegade slid into the booth beside Walter.
Renegade nodded to the waitress, adding a warm smile as though he’d sensed she needed a small measure of kindness.
“Could you bring me a coffee as well, love?” Her dark expression seemed to lighten for a moment, before she turned to wait on another customer.
Renegade shoved a cell phone toward Rowan. “A present from your brother.”
“I already have a phone.”
Renegade shrugged. “Stryker said your cell service either sucks or has been hacked, or else you’ve been avoiding returning his calls. Anyway, it’s yours. He told me to make sure you got it. If you have a problem, take it up with your brother.”
“Did Stryker say if he’d found out anything?”
“He’s complaining about having to babysit Lyons’ daughter and running into dead ends. Then one of his computers crashed. You’d think the world had spun off its axis. Is he always like that?”
“Always.” Rowan slipped the phone into his coat pocket as the waitress brought Renegade his coffee.
When she’d left, Walter cut into his steak again.
“Too bad about the waitress,” he said, nodding over his shoulder.
“Her name’s Holly. Sweet thing. Tough breaks.
Colin did a good thing hiring her.” Walter cleared his throat and hailed the waitress back to their table.
“My throat feels as though it’s on fire.
Why is it taking so long to build a proper Guinness?
” he said loosening the top buttons on his shirt. “I’m dying of thirst.”
Renegade leaned forward. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine. Nothing a drink won’t cure. You’re not the only ones been asking about the murders.
The magical community is walking on eggshells and scared as shit.
Received a few deaths threats myself, and I’m pretty sure I was followed.
Couldn’t wait to get to The Inferno where I feel safe.
No surprise you’re here about the murdered Wizards. ”
Renegade nodded. “I overheard you say someone discovered a way to kill Wizards and make it look like a drug overdose.”
Walter cleared his throat, setting his fork down. “Yeah,” he said swallowing again. “The rumor is it’s a nasty poison that causes humans to hallucinate but can be fatal or do real damage to anyone with an ounce of magical blood.”
Holly set Walter’s Guinness on the table, with a shaky comment that she hoped this one was more to his liking.
Walter gave her a jerky nod of thanks, then reached for it, spilling foaming beer down his shirt as he raised the mug to his mouth.
He downed half of its contents in one gulp, then gasped and grabbed his throat.
Spiderweb-like veins spread over Walter’s face and hands, turning his skin an indigo blue. The condition of Walter’s skin matched the body at Gas Works Park.
“You’ve been poisoned!” Rowan shouted to the waitress, “Quick! We need a medic over here—now!”
Walter reached for Rowan’s arm and grasped it in a vise-like grip. “Too late for me…” His voice sounded pained, hoarse, as though he had a mouthful of razors.
Walter’s eyes bled, widened, then dulled as his head slammed down into his plate of food.
****
The Inferno continued, unaware of Walter’s death. The roar of loud conversation mixed with the electronic music as people crowded the dance floor. The celebratory mood would change the moment Walter’s body was discovered.
“Walter blamed the waitress,” Rowan said with dead calm, getting to his feet.
Renegade nodded and did the same. “The bartender could also be involved.”
Rowan scanned the room. Holly was near another table.
Her eyes were locked on his. Guilt flashed in her eyes as her tray slid from her grasp and crashed to the floor.
Rowan turned toward Renegade. “Inform Colin. I’ll take care of the bartender and then capture Holly.
We need answers. Watch the front entrance.
Stop anyone with an itch to escape, and if Morgan arrives, don’t let her leave. I’m going after Holly.”
“Milady is meeting you here? Are you certifiably insane?
“Just make sure she doesn’t eat or drink anything. Can I count on you to keep her safe?”
“You don’t have to ask.”
Rowan heated his core and reached the bartender while the man was in the process of filling cocktail orders. Like the waitress, he was a half-blood Fae, an easy target for a Wizard to disarm. With one punch Rowan knocked the man unconscious and looked for Holly.
She had paused to glance over her shoulders in his direction, then bolted through the kitchen’s swinging doors.
He reached the kitchen in time to see her disappear out the back door.
She was fast, but no match for his speed.
He raced past cooks and servers, overcoming her before she reached the steps leading into the alley.
He grabbed her arm and slammed her against the building.
Walter had been poisoned and died before he could share his information.
This case had as many twists and turns as an old-fashioned labyrinth.
He hated labyrinths, mazes, winding paths through gardens—basically, anyplace he couldn’t control, anywhere he couldn’t see the enemy approach.
The young woman’s fear was so heightened he smelled it in the wind. It would be a beacon to whoever might have ordered the kill. Which meant they’d likely kill Holly next. Killers didn’t like loose ends. He’d have to act fast.
He pinned her against the wall in the alley.
“I know what you want. But I’m dead if I talk to you,” she whispered.
“You’re dead even if you don’t. Who ordered you and the bartender to poison Walter?”
She seemed to weigh her chances. He doubted she’d last long on the streets, but sometimes a person measured their life in days, not years. He figured she’d been on borrowed time ever since she was born.
She glanced over his shoulder, blinked away a tear, then focused on Rowan.
“The bartender wasn’t involved,” her voice was as thin as mist as her words tumbled out.
“I didn’t want to do it. Walter seemed a nice sort.
He’s never tried to grab me, and that makes him different from those who think because I’m one of the Fae it gives them the right.
They have my sister. I didn’t have a choice. ”
The rustle of leaves. A flash of silver.
In the next breath an arrow lodged in the base of her neck.
Her eyes widened and then narrowed as she slumped forward into Rowan’s arms. He knew the weapon would be tipped with a fast-acting poison.
She was dying. He scanned the rooftops. The assassin was gone.
No need to stay and check if his victim died.
Assassins in the magical community only used poisons that didn’t have known antidotes.
The unanswered question mark was why the mercenary hadn’t shot him too.
He carried Holly a short distance away. She was lighter than he expected.
A walking skeleton, made to look substantial by the layers of black clothing she wore.
He guessed her age to be around twenty-one or twenty-two.
A young woman who had never had the chance to grow and mature, and now she never would.
There was nothing he could do. He’d been able to save the dog, but a member of the Fae was different.
Descended from pure light, they were uniquely vulnerable to poisons in the atmosphere, which was the reason the Fae’s numbers had reached extinction levels.
Once a poison entered a Fae’s bloodstream, there was nothing anyone could do.
Already it was apparent that it had spread through her body, shutting it down. The good news was that it looked like she wasn’t in pain. The poison was as merciful as it was lethal.
Her breathing was shallow, her eyes unblinking. If she’d been larger, the poison would have taken longer. By the color of her skin, she was losing ground fast.
The time for pressing her for information was past. She’d already told him that she had been forced to harm Walter to save her sister. Rowan wouldn’t tell her that he doubted the people who had coerced her into murdering Walter would honor their vow and release her sister.
He would give her the dignity of dying in peace.
He was not going to press her during the last seconds of her life.
Besides, there weren’t that many in the magical community who used poison, and fewer still who would be bold enough to use it in a public place christened a neutral zone.
Someone was feeling desperate. And desperate people made mistakes. He vowed he’d find those responsible.
Holly grabbed his shirt. “I’m dying.” It was not a question. She had stated a fact, and he would not lie to her. She swallowed as her eyes widened in fear. “I didn’t want to hurt your friend. They didn’t give me a choice.”
“I know. Save your strength.”
The humans and the magical community liked to debate the concept of what a person should do if they were in Holly’s situation.
There were strong opinions on both sides.
Some felt magic or circumstances could force a person to do something against their will, against their moral code, no matter the consequences.
Others felt the opposite and he didn’t judge.
But what he did know was that everyone deserved another chance to get it right.
If not in this world—maybe in the next. A thin grayish film clouded over her eyes, so he wasn’t sure if she could still see him, but he formed a gentle smile all the same.
The effort felt rusty. Whether he agreed she’d had a choice or not didn’t matter.
He bent over her to make sure she could hear him. “I don’t blame you.” He added the words; “May your journey be swift, and your welcome in the next realm joyous. When we meet again, let us embrace as friends.”
It was the blessing said over the graves of those in the magical community who’d lived a full and respected life. Some might find it blasphemous he’d said this to her. He didn’t care.
The thin smile that spread over her face told him he’d made the right decision. She pressed a cobalt-blue glass container the size and shape of a sugar packet into the palm of his hand. Her voice was feather soft as she struggled to draw her last breath. “Banshee.”