13. Griff
thirteen
Griff
Griff fidgeted with his aura blockers as he swept his gaze over the crowded ballroom.
The Pentarchy had certainly gone all out for their Cog Day celebration.
Festive banners depicting images of famous Vantoric inventors and their greatest creations draped the space, fluttering as people passed below.
More renditions of Vantor itself joined them, depicting their iron city of Barsong and the fearsome Dragonstar volcano.
Griff absently wondered if Amelie’s visage was up there somewhere. She might not have been considered among Vantor’s greatest minds, but there had been no better crafter of runeflame weapons or relics in Derimay. His own equipment was a testament to that.
A throat cleared beside him, and a drawling voice declared, “Where to now, Inspector?”
Griff glanced over, nerves pulsing in his gut as he took in Cal’s disguised visage beside him. He’d donned his Lord Heneford persona for the event. Though he hadn’t received his own invitation, no one had questioned his presence there when he’d arrived with Griff.
No one except Griff himself. He’d been reluctant to let Cal come at all, telling himself it was out of fear someone might realize who he really was. But Cal had persuaded him, promising to stick to his disguise and stay close.
“Now, we mingle,” Griff replied, his voice low. “All five members of the Pentarchy should be here somewhere. We just need to find them and see what we can learn.”
It was still difficult for him to wrap his head around the fact that one of the city’s leaders—the very people he’d shared a theater box with a mere week ago—was involved with the Brotherhood and dangerous void magic.
But he wasn’t naive enough to dismiss it as impossible. In his line of work, he’d seen plenty of good, upstanding citizens commit heinous acts. People were good at justifying all sorts of self-destructive behavior.
His gaze flicked back to Cal and then away. Case in point…
Cal nodded, rubbing his wrinkled hands together. “Sounds fun. Shall I take the crowd of sycophants to the left while you take the right?”
The thief had already started to step away, his gaze drifting to the gathered people, when Griff said, “No,” a bit too harshly. He cleared his throat when Cal raised an eyebrow at him. “We stick together, remember?”
“Sure,” Cal said with a hint of a frown. “I remember. It’ll take us twice as long though if we do it that way.”
“Better to be safe and thorough,” Griff said.
Cal peered more closely at him, and Griff shifted uncomfortably beneath his scrutiny. “Are you all right, Griff? You’ve seemed off all day.”
There was an unspoken question in Cal’s voice that Griff steadfastly ignored.
They hadn’t talked about what had happened the night before.
Griff had fallen asleep with Cal snuggled in his arms, only to awake the next morning and discover the bed beside him empty, Cal already up and reviewing their case notes.
He’d greeted Griff with his typical grin, acting like nothing had changed.
Griff had decided to follow his lead…even as inside, he felt the same coiled tension he did right before confronting a dangerous suspect.
That feeling had only grown worse as the day went on.
Perhaps it was this strange closeness with Cal—the uncomfortable vulnerability the thief made him feel no matter how inappropriate he knew it was.
If he was honest, that was the real reason he hadn’t wanted Cal to come tonight.
After the intense intimacy of last night, he hadn’t known how to behave around Cal anymore, unsure exactly where they stood.
Cal had remained his usual smiling, joking self while they’d gone over the plan for tonight and prepared for the mission.
It was as if the previous night had never happened.
Griff wasn’t sure what to make of that. Had it just been a one-night fling for the thief? A way to relieve stress and deal with their budding attraction to one another? Or had it meant something more? He didn’t dare ask—not when he wasn’t sure which answer he wanted.
It didn’t help that seeing Lord Heneford made him recall that night at the theater.
Cal had used this very same disguise to trick him while carrying out a heist right under his nose.
Griff thought he knew Cal well enough by now to trust him to stick to their investigation…
but it still served as a stark reminder of the line between them.
The line they’d thoroughly crossed last night.
“Just the usual pre-operation jitters,” Griff said. He started toward the left edge of the room. It seemed as good a place as any to begin their circuit of the space.
Cal wordlessly fell into step beside him. Griff could feel the thief’s questioning gaze still on him, and he resisted the urge to return it.
It wasn’t that he regretted giving into his attraction, even though he felt like he should. It was what came next that concerned him. The last time he’d opened himself up to someone, it had ended poorly. And that was with someone he’d known for years and fully trusted.
This thing between him and Cal, whatever it was, seemed far more volatile. He barely trusted Cal with the case. How could he trust him with his heart?
Hoping Cal wasn’t picking up on all this awkwardness, he tried to focus his mind back on the task at hand. Slipping through the crowds undeterred felt very much like infiltrating enemy territory. It was a constant struggle not to get drawn into distracting conversations.
Plenty of people recognized Lord Heneford, and after Griff’s recent fame, a fair few wanted to chat with him as well. He quickly became adept at devising some excuse to politely extricate himself.
Drawing Cal away proved more of an issue. The thief certainly enjoyed the sound of his own voice.
“Have you forgotten why we came here?” Griff said after dragging Cal away from yet another batch of nobles eager to pick his ear for the latest gossip. “This could be our one shot to speak openly with the Pentarchy.”
“I have a certain reputation to uphold, Inspector,” Cal declared in his best imperious voice.
He lowered his voice, wry humor creeping in.
“Besides, if you haven’t noticed, most of these lords and merchants have nothing better to do than insult each other behind their backs.
You never know what useful tidbits you might pick up.
For instance, did you know that High Merchant Teodoro’s son was recently involved in quite the scandal involving a boy, a horse, and a vat of butter? It was a real slippery situation.”
Griff blinked. He didn’t reply for a long moment before curiosity finally got the better of him. “I know I’m going to regret asking this. But go on.”
Cal might’ve been wearing Lord Heneford’s face, but the twinkle in his eyes was all his own. “I’ll leave it to your imagination to work out. Suffice it to say, he won’t be able to show his face in a kitchen for a while. Or a stable, for that matter.”
Griff gave a snorting laugh that he hurriedly muffled with a cough when he caught a few of the nearby nobles glancing at them. “As…interesting as that is, I doubt it has anything to do with us. Let’s stay focused.”
Cal shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
They found the High Chancellor first. He was hard to miss, his boisterous voice rising above the general din of conversation as he held court at a table laden with drinks and sweets.
A small crowd of hangers-on surrounded him, nodding along and offering their encouragement of every word that came out of his mouth.
Cal gave the High Chancellor’s ruddy face a disgusted look. “I can’t believe that is who the common people chose to represent them on the Pentarchy. Perhaps Ilthabard has the right idea with their monarchy.”
Griff couldn’t help but agree. He watched High Chancellor Dewani a moment longer, then started forward through the crowd. “Come on.”
“Do you honestly believe someone like him could be behind all this?” Cal asked.
“When you’ve done this as long as I have, you learn never to dismiss anyone as a potential suspect,” Griff replied.
They reached the front of the crowd, which put them near the High Chancellor. Griff waited for a lull in the High Chancellor’s diatribe to snag his attention. “Excuse me, sir. I don’t know if you remember me, but I was hoping I might have a moment of your time.”
High Chancellor Dewani frowned, peering at him.
Then, his face lit up. “Ah, Inspector…Banton, was it? Of course, of course, how could I forget?” Wrapping a sweaty arm around Griff’s shoulder, he tugged him forward and spun him to face the crowd.
“Come, regale us with the tale of your recent triumph!”
Griff swallowed as he suddenly found himself facing over a dozen pairs of staring eyes that ranged from curious to openly hostile at the man who’d stolen the High Chancellor’s attention.
His roving eyes settled on Cal’s smirking face, and he regained his equilibrium, clearing his throat. “Very well. It all started with a complaint registered by a foreman at one of the warehouses downtown…”
He launched into a recounting of the blackmail case, doing his best to liven it up for the audience. He was no bard, but he seemed to hold their drunken attention well enough. At least, until the High Chancellor decided to cut in.