3. Griff
three
Griff
Griff hesitated outside the wrought iron gate in Derimay’s quieter Garden District.
He hadn’t slept more than an hour or two last night, and exhaustion weighed heavily on him.
He’d been up all night searching the Siren’s Call theater for any clues or potential leads.
Nothing had turned up save those Void-cursed cards.
But that wasn’t what gave him pause as he studied the modest estate that lay beyond the gate.
The house where he’d grown up seemed the same as he remembered.
Its bright yellow tiles still gleamed in the morning light.
Silken banners flapping in the breeze bore the Sunseeker mark, proudly proclaiming that a sage could be found there to help any citizens in need, free of charge.
Once, this had been a welcoming refuge for Griff, too. Even after he’d moved out on his own at eighteen, he’d come by most nights for dinner or conversation.
But that had been while his mother was still alive.
Now, the mere thought of entering left him unsettled. A brief image of a slumped form and a splash of blood flickered before his mind’s eye, and he grimaced, adjusting his coat. Too many memories to haunt him.
This is the best chance I have to find a lead before the trail goes cold, he reminded himself.
That had always been the issue with Blackjack.
The slippery blink monkey had proven impossible to pin down, always remaining one step ahead.
If there was anything Griff had learned from past investigations, it was that the longer he gave Blackjack to cover his tracks, the less likely he was to get anywhere.
Shoving down his discomfort, he forced himself to stride through the open gate and up the narrow path through the garden.
That was one change from Griff’s memories: gardening had always been more his mother’s hobby than Nathaniel’s.
She’d once told him that it helped her unwind after a stressful day at court by making her feel more connected to the Goddess Allaria.
Since her passing, Nathaniel had paved over the flower beds with rocks.
Griff didn’t bother knocking on the front door. It was unlocked as it always was during the day, and he knew Nathaniel wouldn’t bother coming to answer. It was one of the Sunseeker tenants to leave their home open to visitors in need.
He found Nathaniel in the small open courtyard at the house’s center, enjoying his morning tea and breakfast. Nathaniel glanced up when Griff hesitated in the doorway, not seeming at all surprised to see him. Very little ever surprised Nathanial Denton.
“You’re here early,” Nathanial grunted. He squinted more closely at Griff. “Or is it late? You look like you’re about to keel over. Have you eaten yet?”
“I’m working,” Griff said.
“You’ll work better on a full stomach.” Nathanial gestured to the spread of fruit and bread on the table. “Come, sit. Eat. I insist.”
Griff wanted to refuse. But there seemed no good way to do so without missing his chance to seek Nathaniel’s aid. He’d need to wait for him to finish breakfast anyway before he’d let Griff talk business.
Reluctantly, he took the seat across from Nathaniel and filled a small plate patterned with leaping dolphins. When he took his first bite of bread with jam, his stomach rumbled, and he realized how hungry he was.
“I knew it,” Nathaniel said with a chuckle, watching him eat. He filled a mug with Razakethi coffee from a carafe as Griff devoured his breakfast. “When you focus on something, you lose sight of everything else. Your mother was the same way.”
Griff stiffened at the mention of his mother. No longer hungry, he slid aside his half-eaten plate of food. “I didn’t come here to discuss my work habits. I need your help.”
Nathaniel sighed and took a sip of his coffee. “Always another case with you. This obsession with your job isn’t healthy—it’s why Amelie left, you know.”
Griff’s jaw tightened. First his mother, then his ex-wife. Nathaniel was replaying his greatest hits even quicker than usual. For the hundredth time, he ground out, “There are a hundred reasons Amelie and I didn’t work out. My job was only one of them.”
True, it had been the final blow that sank the sinking ship. But their marriage had been going under for a long time before that. People changed—that was the heart of it.
Nathaniel snorted. “From where I’m sitting, most of those so-called reasons all come back to the same thing.
” He shook his head. “I still don’t see why you insist on wasting your potential like this, Griffin.
You have a brilliant mind! Always have. You should be putting it to use in a courtroom, making laws rather than bashing in skulls. ”
Griff knew better than to try yet again to explain that his work as an investigator rarely required violence. That was more the purview of the protectors. In Nathaniel’s head, there was little difference: he would always see Griff as nothing but a glorified soldier.
Still, feeling an echo of the kid he’d once been trying to please his father, he couldn’t help saying, “I am making a difference. The Pentarchy honored me last night for my recent case with—”
“Bah!” Nathanial waved a handful of bread, sending bits of crumbs and jam tumbling across the table.
“I’m sure you’re excelling at whatever you attempt.
But I mean a real difference. Doing genuine good for this city and its people.
You know, I spoke to Cecilia just the other day, and she agreed.
Said there would always be a spot with the magisters waiting for you, should you want it. ”
Recalling his encounter with the High Judge last night, Griff suppressed a grimace. So that was what that had been about. There was no point arguing with Nathaniel when he was like this, so Griff took the path of least resistance to get to his business quicker.
Meeting Nathaniel’s hopeful expression, he gave a curt nod. “I’ll think about it.”
That at least seemed to mollify the old Sunseeker sage.
They passed the rest of breakfast in silence save the clinking of dishes and crunch of food.
Griff picked at some fruit and begrudgingly sipped the coffee.
Razakethi brews were far too strong for his taste, but he’d need the energy boost if he was going to remain alert throughout the day.
At last, Nathaniel set aside his empty plate, studying Griff with a heavy sigh. “I suppose you might as well tell me why you’re here. Because the Goddess knows it wasn’t to visit your old man.”
Shoving down the tiniest twinge of guilt, Griff pulled a small pouch out of his coat and tossed it onto the table in front of Nathaniel. Nathaniel leaned in and opened the pouch, dumping its contents onto the table. He frowned as he studied them.
“Playing cards?” He raised an eyebrow at Griff. “I never took you for a gambler.”
“They were left at the scene of a theft last night,” Griff said. “I know I recognize the image on the back, but I can’t place from where.”
Nathaniel’s expression darkened. “It’s Blackjack again, isn’t it?”
“You know I’m not allowed to discuss the details of an ongoing—”
“By the Goddess, Griffin, haven’t you wasted enough time hunting for that vagabond? He’s already stolen your wife from you—don’t let him steal any more.”
“He didn’t…” Griff clenched his jaw, cutting off. What was the point in explaining when he knew it would fall on deaf ears? “Someone has to stop him.”
“But it doesn’t have to be you!”
“Yes. It does.”
Nathaniel stared at him for a long moment before sighing and rubbing his eyes. He suddenly appeared weary. “Is one man really worth all this effort?”
Griff didn’t answer. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how to explain his near-obsession with catching Blackjack. Part of it might be that it had been the final case that drove him and Amelie to finally end things, but that wasn’t really it, at least not entirely.
Blackjack was his great black wyrm: the elusive hunt that had gotten away. It was the only case he’d ever been given that he’d never solved. And while no one held that against him—Blackjack had, after all, confounded everyone else too—that failure continued to eat away at him.
Whatever it took, he would see Blackjack behind bars. And with any luck, these cards might hold the key.
Studying his face, Nathaniel puffed out another sigh, then held out his hand. “Give me your hand.”
Griff did, shifting his chair around the table.
It left him uncomfortably close to Nathaniel—close enough that it was impossible to miss the weary set to his shoulders, the extra wrinkles lining his face.
Growing up, Nathaniel had always seemed a larger-than-life presence. But now, he just looked old and tired.
Yet for all his advanced age, Nathaniel’s grip remained firm and steady when he clutched Griff’s hand. A golden glow enveloped their linked fingers as Nathaniel called upon his dawnflame.
Unlike Griff, who’d been born with his natural gift to sense auras, Nathaniel had pledged himself to the Sunseekers and given his oaths to earn his magic. Now, he put that magic to good use.
Griff shifted his vision to the playing cards on the table and the crude image of a half-naked woman embossed on their backs.
What Nathaniel and other Sunseekers could do wasn’t quite true divination, though it was similar.
By focusing his power on Griff’s mind, he could help coax Griff’s latent memories to the surface, using the playing cards as a mental link.
A hazy image began to form in the air above the cards. At first, it was little more than swirling pinpricks of golden light.
“Focus,” Nathaniel murmured. “Remember to relax your thoughts. Don’t fight it.”
“I am relaxed,” Griff muttered, his grip on Nathaniel’s hand briefly tightening. Still, he breathed deep and tried to manage what calm he could considering the dozens of things both minor and major demanding his attention.