“Right,” I said, only I was suddenly imagining the shaggy fae in a paisley sweater vest and it was all I could do to keep a straight face.
Once the guard waved the spellchecker over Rianna, he motioned us through the metal detectors, which didn’t make a peep. The fact we were both carrying enchanted daggers that neither the spellchecker nor the metal detector caught was both a relief—because I was armed—and worrisome, as that meant other people could be as well. Once we checked in and clipped on our visitor passes, we headed to the basement.
Falin met us outside the double doors of the morgue. He didn’t smile as we approached, or even say hello. He just nodded with a sort of grunt.
It reminded me of when we first met.
“So, are you going to tell us anything about the body?” I asked as he held open the door.
“I believe you’re the one who is supposed to tell me what happened.”
“Well, first we have some paperwork,” Rianna said, pulling a folder out of her bag.
Falin frowned at her before turning to me and cocking an eyebrow.
“I think this one is pro bono,” I whispered, relieving her of the folder. At her incredulous look, I whispered, “We raise the shade, and if it proves to be connected to our case, we get help from the FIB.”
“Yeah, because the FIB are known for working well with others.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Falin, but his hard expression gave away nothing. I assumed he’d called because now that a fae might be involved, he could legitimately offer assistance on the case while remaining within the bounds of the queen’s edict. But Rianna was right. If we raised this victim’s shade and it traced back to the rider, the FIB might very well try to crowd us out of the case. While I wanted to hand it over to the officials, the FIB wasn’t the group I’d pick. I needed to be able to report results to my clients, and fae involvement could tie my hands—and tongue. Which meant we needed rules before the ritual. Fae loved their damn rules.
I turned and walked over to Falin. “We’re willing to trade our services.”
“And what are you asking in exchange for the ritual?” he asked, not a note of caution in his voice, and an amused glint in his eye as if I was doing exactly what he hoped. Unfortunately that glint could have meant he wanted me to circumvent the queen’s compulsion or that I was playing into a plan far less beneficial to me.
I wanted to believe he held my best interests in mind, so I charged ahead. “That the agent in charge personally assist us in the case we’re currently working.” I added no stipulation that the ritual had to grant him the information he wanted or that it prove to be connected to the case. He should have added those conditions to the agreement, it was standard protocol for fae to try to secure the better deal in any trade, but his lips just twitched to flash a lopsided grin.
“Deal.” And then the grin was gone, the cold, chilly wall erected by the queen’s edict between us again.
Without a word he stepped around me, and headed toward the cold room. I sighed, overly aware of his silence. I might be working with him, but this wasn’t much better than our awkward encounters during those damned raids. I’d hoped that if we shared a case we’d at least manage a civil conversation, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen.
The disappointment hit the bottom of my stomach, making me feel hollow. Not that I could do anything about it. Though I wished he’d try a little harder. Surely he could find more wiggle room in the queen’s command?
With a second sigh, I glanced around. Rianna, Falin, and I were the only ones in the morgue. That never happened.
“Where’s Tamara?”
“On break,” he said as the seal on the cold room door broke with a slurping sound. “This is fae business.”
He vanished into the room and then returned a moment later pushing a gurney. The figure covered under the white sheet was small, no more than four feet.
“He’s not a child is he?” I could normally get a sense of age off corpses, but I’d encountered very few fae corpses and while I could feel that he was definitely male, his age felt undefinable.
“No, he’s a duergar. They’re a small people. Nasty temperaments, but they are one of the best metalsmiths. I’d gamble the dagger you carry was made by a duergar.”
I had no response to that, so I said nothing as Rianna drew her circle. Falin frowned as she dragged her tube of waxed calk around the gurney.
“You’re not performing the ritual?”
“We have other leads to follow today and I need my eyes.”
The frown didn’t change, if anything, it etched itself deeper. “Can she raise a fae shade?”
Rianna, who had finished her circle and moved to the center, sent a cutting glance in Falin’s direction.
“She’s a very capable grave witch,” I said, but in truth, I had no idea. I could feel grave essence lifting from the duergar, but it felt different from the grave essence that leaked from human corpses.
“I’m going to start now,” Rianna said, and I nodded.
Her circle, a thick purple barrier, sprang into being faster than I could have summoned one, but when she turned toward the small body, nothing happened. I held my breath, willing her the ability to raise the shade. I should have gone in the circle with her. She was by far the better witchy witch, but my grave magic was stronger.
Wind whipped around her, making her red hair fly in all directions. Desmond paced the outskirts of her circle, each step broadcasting his apprehension.
Come on, you can do this.
All at once, the circle stilled, the wind dying down to a light breeze. An almost transparent shade sat up through the sheet. It was a weak shade, but it was a shade.
Rianna sagged as she let out a breath, and the already thin shade wavered, but it didn’t fade.
“Okay,” she said, her voice a strained whisper. “You can question him now.”
Falin glanced at me and I almost told him that his face was going to get stuck in that frown if he didn’t stop soon, but the seriousness in his eyes didn’t leave room for jokes. In fact, it didn’t leave room for me, which hurt even though I knew the queen’s compulsion was behind his frosty demeanor.
“Duergar,” he said, stepping closer to the edge of the circle. “Why did you take your own life?”
The shade didn’t answer.
Falin shook his head. “It didn’t work. She’s not strong enough.”
Now it was my turn to frown. “She is, you’re asking the wrong questions.” I joined him at the edge of the circle. “What is your name?”
“Gromel.” The shade’s voice was far away, like hearing an echo that bounced off several walls before it reached us, but it was audible.
“Gromel, do you remember how you died?”
“To the burn of iron and my innards in my hands.”
I grimaced. The shade was so faint that I hadn’t realized what I was seeing in its lap was its own guts. I looked at Falin. “He disemboweled himself?”
“With an iron sword and then finished it off by slitting his throat.”
I shivered and turned back to the shade. “What is the last thing you remember before…holding your own guts.” Ick.
“I heard a strange sound and I went out of my cave to investigate. I found a man lying on the rocks. He must have jumped from the bridge, but the fall didn’t kill him, not quite. His body held a breath or two of fading life. I decided to give him to the kelpie, so I picked him up. Then I was somewhere else, the burn of iron and my insides outside.”
That sure sounds like the work of our rider. “What day did you find the man on the rocks?”
“Ten days before the equinox.”
That wasn’t possible. The equinox was when the revelry Caleb and Rianna wanted me to attend occurred, and it was rapidly approaching. I glanced at Falin.
He must have misread my confusion because he said, “The equinox begins at dawn tomorrow.”
I nodded. “And Gromel killed himself this morning?”
“Yesterday, right at sunset when his power was weakest and he was least likely to heal from the wounds.”
So the rider knew something about killing fae—or Gromel had survived the rider’s initial attempt. Still, even if he’d failed once, ten days before the equinox meant that the rider had inhabited Gromel for eight days. He’d only ever kept a body three days before now.
While that meant we were looking for fewer bodies, I really hated when the bad guys changed the rules.
Chapter 21
Half an hour later the duergar was back in the cold room awaiting an agent from the FIB to pick up his remains and we were on the road, heading toward the closest five-star restaurant. The original plan was to split up and cover more ground, but Rianna had pushed too hard in the ritual—wobbling out of her circle to collapse into a chair—and as weak as she was, I couldn’t send her off on her own. So she was in the backseat with Desmond, I had shotgun, and Falin was driving.
I seriously needed to requalify for my driver’s license.
The only upside? Falin had acquired a tablet with all the reported missing persons from the last two weeks and the case file from the duergar’s suicide scene, which had been a museum of all places. Of course, that was where he’d acquired the sword, so it made sense.
We knew the rider jumped to a witness of his previous host’s suicide, so with luck, someone mentioned in the case file would also be in the missing persons database.
I tapped the screen, flicking through the older photos. The victim I was looking for wouldn’t have come home last night—I only hoped he’d been reported missing already. As I scrolled, a familiar face popped up on the screen.
“That can’t be,” I whispered, staring at the face of the man who’d been in Brew and Brews, the one Kingly’s ghost had taken a swing at on the day the rider made him jump from Motel Styx. The drunk had been missing since that day, which meant he wasn’t the host we were looking for, but I’d bet he’d been the host following Kingly. Was the rider that close and I couldn’t tell?