9. Griff
nine
Griff
Griff tried to suppress his annoyance as he strode out the front of the Sanjarkan National Treasury.
Nathaniel’s healing poultice had worked wonders, and after a good night’s rest—albeit in a known criminal’s secret hideout—he’d been ready and eager to follow up on the new lead they’d acquired from Bald Locke.
The sooner he got to the bottom of this business with the void orb and returned to his usual duties, the better. Especially given the company he was currently forced to keep.
“So, how did ‘doing things by the book’ go for you?” Cal asked, flashing a smug smile as Griff slipped into a nearby alley.
The thief lounged against the wall, wearing yet another face and body.
This one was a middle-aged woman dressed in merchant robes.
He hadn’t bothered to alter his voice just now, and the effect was disconcerting.
Griff suppressed a grimace. “The Treasury have a policy against sharing private account information, even to members of the Watch. Something about concerns over compromising a merchant’s business. I’d need an official writ from a magister to supersede that.”
“Of course you would.” Cal sounded a touch too pleased about that fact. “Which you can’t do since you’re trying to keep this investigation under wraps. I told you we should’ve done things my way.”
This time, Griff couldn’t hold back his sigh. Despite Cal’s odd behavior last night, he’d eventually brought back food as promised. And since then, he seemed to have returned to his usual irascible self.
Griff would’ve much preferred working this case with another inspector. Still, he supposed he owed Cal at least some credit for sticking around as long as he had. It was more than he’d have expected from a thief, especially when Griff had been in such a vulnerable state yesterday.
“It’s always worth the effort to obey the law,” Griff said. “It’s what keeps society functioning.”
Cal gave a derisive snort. “Maybe for people like you.” He crossed his arms and raised a brow in challenge. “Does that mean we’re calling this done, then? If so, it’s been nice working with you, Inspector.”
Griff briefly considered slapping the pacifier cuff back on Cal’s wrist. Maybe that would keep him in line better. Trust be told, he probably should’ve done that anyway before they left that morning, just to be safe. But after everything they’d been through, it had felt wrong.
Sure, and your reluctance has nothing at all to do with the brightness of his aura…or his crooked grin.
Ignoring the unwelcome thought, Griff forced himself to play nice. “I said it was worth trying to obey the law.” Memory of the void orb’s foul magic elicited a grimace. “But in this case, I suppose we can make an exception. Walk me through your plan again.”
Cal smirked. “It’s simple. I’ll pretend to be a Sanjarkan lord with an account here. That should get us through to the back.”
Griff frowned. “But won’t they check to make sure your information matches their records? Where do you plan to find an appropriate noble to impersonate?”
An odd expression flitted over Cal’s face, and he waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it handled.”
Griff didn’t like that one bit. He almost removed his glasses to check Cal’s aura before deciding against it. The thief had had plenty of chances to betray him so far and hadn’t. Perhaps he’d earned a tiny modicum of trust.
“Fine,” Griff said. “That gets us into the back. And once we’re inside? How do we find the records we need without the bankers catching on?”
“Easy—one of us buys time for the other to figure out who Bald Locke’s mysterious benefactor is.”
“How do we distract them?”
Cal shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Surely, you’ve heard of improvising before, Inspector. Or is that a bit too close to lying for your tastes?”
Griff ignored the jab. Cal’s plan was fairly basic, but he supposed that was good given how little time they’d taken to prepare.
Usually, he’d have spent a week, maybe longer, prepping for an operation like this.
But he couldn’t afford that luxury—not when his every instinct screamed at him that the void orb was part of some deeper conspiracy.
“What about the wards?” he asked.
They’d taken some time earlier that morning to scout the bank out. Griff had scanned the front antechamber with his aura-sight while Cal swapped between various throwaway disguises to case the joint.
While Cal had declared the security disappointingly lax—a small squad of protectors stationed by the door the only threat—Griff had detected a set of runeflame wards infused near the door leading to the back.
While he hadn’t been able to tell exactly what they did, it was a safe bet they were designed to defend the vaults from magical intrusions precisely like Cal’s duskflame disguise.
Cal flashed Griff a broad grin and shoved off the wall, striding toward the mouth of the alley. Shadowy duskflame flickered across his skin, leaving rippling flesh in its wake. By the time he’d reached Griff, he looked like the average clerk, complete with a mousy face and wired spectacles.
“Leave the wards to me,” Cal said in a high, nasally voice. “I just need you to keep the protties distracted long enough for me to do my thing. Give me a couple minutes to get into position. Then, follow me inside.”
Griff nodded, but Cal was already whistling as he strolled out of the alley and headed across the courtyard toward the steps leading up to the Treasury’s arched entrance. Griff stared after him until he was certain Cal had made it inside safely, then took a few steadying breaths to calm his pulse.
He was probably just nervous about the mission. Breaking into a bank was decidedly outside his usual wheelhouse. But desperate times, and all that.
Or maybe it’s a certain thief that has you so flustered.
That was a dangerous thought—one he couldn’t afford to dwell on too deeply right now. Deciding that enough time had passed, he strode toward the Treasury. He kept his face carefully blank, his steps purposeful: a protector on a mission.
The Treasury building presented an imposing sight.
Wooden columns carved to resemble winged Celestials watched over the entrance while more columns in the shape of various sea creatures lined the antechamber.
Enormous silken tapestries in shades of blue and green hung along the walls.
Engraved seashells coated the floor, leading to a row of arched teller windows along the far wall.
A pair of double doors sat beside them, leading into back offices and the Treasury’s vaults.
Griff gave the grand room no more than a cursory glance before removing his aura blockers and striding purposefully toward the nearest protector. Cal should already be there somewhere near the doors, where Griff had detected the wards earlier.
As he caught the protector’s eye, he flashed his badge. “Excuse me, can I have your attention?”
The protector eyed him, as did several of his nearby compatriots. Most, however, ignored him, their drooping auras signifying boredom. It looked like he’d need to be a little more forceful if he wanted to hold their attention.
“That means all of you!” he barked, raising his voice to a near bellow. More eyes turned to glare at him, and he caught a few flickers of angry red amid their auras. Better that than apathy if it meant them focusing on him.
“Thank you,” he continued. “I have reason to believe that a dangerous criminal may be hiding in this area. Your cooperation in apprehending them would be most appreciated.”
The protector nearest Griff gave him an unimpressed look. “Sounds like your problem, not ours, Inspector. We have our own duties here to attend to.”
Griff swept a pointed look over the antechamber. At this time in the morning, there were barely any other patrons—hardly enough to conjure more than a faint pressure behind his eyes from their overlapping auras.
“Seems to me like your duties would survive without you for a few minutes. If you’d all gather up near me, I can give you the criminal’s description so you can help me scout the area.”
Another of the protectors narrowed their eyes. “You’re that hot-shot inspector, aren’t you? The one that made all the papers?”
There were some grumbles from the other protectors at that. Far from being impressed, that seemed to make them even more sullen, their auras darkening like ash.
Griff muffled a sigh. Great. It figured that the protectors assigned to this sort of rote guard duty wouldn’t exactly be the cream of the crop. Still, at least if they were glaring at him, they weren’t paying attention to what the other patrons—Cal included—were up to.
He was searching for what to say next when a familiar voice called out, “Inspector Denton! What a pleasant surprise.”
Griff whirled, his eyes widening a fraction when he spotted High Commander Pern emerging from the doors to the back.
He wore a crisp uniform laden with medals, his electro-baton strapped to his waist. His aura was mostly a fierce orange, its barbed shape suitable for someone used to fighting.
Sasha followed at his side, his own aura a touch drearier and more restrained.
“High Commander,” Griff said, startled. “What are you doing here?” Muffling a wince at his careless words, he snapped a belated salute. “Forgive me, sir. That is none of my business.”
The High Commander chuckled, coming to a stop before him. Sasha hovered a few paces back. He flashed Griff an encouraging smile that gave him some heart.
“It’s fine, Inspector,” the High Commander said. “Just attending to some Pentarchy business. Believe me, I’d much rather be back in my office.” His smile faded as he swept his gaze over the gathered protectors. “Did I hear you issuing orders to these protectors?”
Griff’s stomach roiled. Merciful Light, he hadn’t intended to involve the High Commander of all people in this mess. What would he think if he knew what Griff was about to attempt…and with who?