Gray tidings, p.14
Gray Tidings, page 14
“Few hours,” he decided. “Not long.”
“When only the freshest corpses will do.” I sighed. “Any trace of Luca’s BO or whatever you’re tracking?”
“No Luca.” He shook his head. “She not come here.”
“The Ferret is her underling.” Clay wrinkled his nose. “She probably lets her deal with the fish food.”
“Makes sense,” I had to agree. “She’s the likeliest suspect for tampering with the morgues’ feeds.”
However, our single glimpse of her slight build made me doubt she was the one hauling bodies on her thin shoulders. There was a third accomplice. There must be. The math didn’t add up otherwise. But who? A Toussaint witch? Or someone—something—else?
“You’ve got that look.” Clay studied me. “You think we’re missing something.”
“Aren’t we always?”
“That’s why we’re lucky so many of our suspects end up trying to kill us.”
“Remind me how that’s a good thing again?”
“It gives them time to launch into their villain—or villainess—monologue and fill in the blanks.”
Hard to argue with that logic. Bad guys liked to hear themselves talk.
“To really be successful at our jobs, we need to get to the fill in the blanks part without almost dying.”
“You know who does that? Sherlock Holmes. Last I checked, he’s a fictional character. And he did a lot of cocaine.”
Fictional or not, sympathy for Holmes welled in me. I was all too familiar with the power of addiction.
“Okay, okay. You win.” I rolled my eyes. “We’ll keep getting almost murdered for clues instead.”
Spreading his hands, he graciously accepted the win. “That’s all I ask.”
“Blay.” I backed out into the tunnel. “Did you find the entrance?”
“Door that way.” He pointed over my shoulder. “Locked with magic.”
“Good work.” I stepped up to inspect it and found it identical to the first. A door without hardware that opened on a jump through space. “Any idea what’s up there?”
“Here map.” Blay passed over Asa’s phone. “Check notes.”
“You’re under a souvenir shop now,” Colby said, her voice tinny. “There’s a deli behind it.”
That…was not what I expected on either count. The location or the speaker.
For that to be true, this tunnel must have been rerouted to a more convenient location.
But convenient for whom? Luca and Nan? Or their mysterious accomplice?
“Colby?” I swallowed my surprise. “You’ve been listening in the whole time?”
“What?” Her voice warped and twisted with white noise. “I can’t hear you.”
“Colby tell Blay where to go,” he explained. “Help track Blay’s position.”
“Has the signal been weak the whole time?” I held the phone higher, searching for a better signal, but the bars didn’t budge. “Can she hear us at all?”
“She talk.” He flashed the highlighted speaker button. “Blay listen.”
“Okay.” That smoothed my ruffled feathers a bit. “At least we’ve got that much to go on.”
“A deli and a souvenir shop are both super public.” Clay ruffled dust from his wig. “Do we really want to appear in the middle of either?”
“As much as I want to believe the low sobriety factor would work in our favor, you’re right. We either go up and check them out as customers through the front door, or we wait until they close and sneak in after hours.”
Offering me his hair, Blay suggested, “Glamour?”
“The portal might strip it off us.” Sidestepping his silent request for pets, I touched the rotting hatch, which was definitely original. “Hard to say when we don’t know what we’re walking into or why this hatch was diverted to a new location.”
Unless it was a necessary redirect after the collapse of so much of the underground system.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Clay rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do this.”
“All right.” I fed magic into the unseen lock until it clicked open. “Here goes nothing.”
The portal inhaled me off the step then sneezed me out into a deli where I stumbled forward right into a chip display, which crashed to the tiles beneath me with a booming clatter and crunch.
Seconds later, Clay appeared behind me and whipped out his phone.
“I’ll be saving this to the Rue blackmail file.” He snapped a picture. “Too bad you’re the boss. Otherwise, I could email this to the boss and tell them you fell down on the job. Literally.”
“I could point out the reason you weren’t flung is because you’re four hundred pounds, but I won’t.”
Before Clay retaliated, Asa knocked into him, sending him careening toward the restaurant’s front door.
“I can’t tell if you’re drunk or I am,” said the man behind the counter. “Did y’all walk through a wall?”
“We came through the door.” I indicated the one behind us. “I tripped and fell over the display, and they stumbled over me.” I got to my feet and held out a bag of chips like I meant to buy them. “How much?”
As our fingers brushed, I pushed a little magic his way, enough to make his eyelids go heavy and his voice slur when he told me, “It’s on the housh.” A bubbling laugh escaped him. “I mean housh.” He sat on the stool behind the counter. “No, no.” He wiped a hand across his mouth. “Housh.”
“Why don’t you take your break?” I wove suggestion into my words. “We can wait.”
“Yeah.” He leaned against the wall and shut his eyes. “Yeah.”
As soon as I was sure he was out cold, I turned my attention back to the others.
“Storing a corpse in a deli can’t be sanitary,” Clay lamented. “His muffulettas looked good too.”
Until he mentioned the possibility, I figured Luca’s accomplice was using this as a shortcut, not a pit stop.
“I’ll check the back.” Asa cut behind the counter, careful not to bump the clerk. “See if they have a walk-in fridge or freezer.”
“They don’t,” Colby informed us. “I checked earlier.”
A beat later, I realized the line was static free, that we could talk to her.
“So, Luca—or her henchman—is just passing through.”
“Henchwoman,” Clay countered. “No need to be sexist. Women can hench just as good as men.”
A giggle bubbled out of Colby, but then she fell silent. “I hear something.”
“Colby?” Blood turned to ice in my veins. “Colby?”
“Someone is here,” she whispered before the call ended.
12
The drive to the marina, thwarted by traffic at every turn, was one of the longest of my life. I kept dialing Colby, and she kept not answering. Frustrated, I threw the phone, and it bounced across the floorboard.
“She got out once.” Asa reached for my hand. “She can do it again.”
“There was no music, and she didn’t mention the strobes. She would have told me if it was that simple.”
“What if another line formed?” Clay tossed out the idea. “After how rowdy it got last time, I could see her bailing to avoid it.”
“Why would they come back?” Asa rubbed my knuckles. “We made it clear the bus was off-limits.”
“Alcohol shortens memory spans.” Clay was having no luck on the phone either. “Can’t you go faster?”
Gaze finding Clay’s in the rearview mirror, Asa said, “If you want me to run down tourists, then yes.”
“He’s doing the best he can,” I defended while secretly agreeing with Clay. “The traffic is a nightmare.”
When my phone rang, I didn’t check the screen before answering with a breathless, “Yes?”
“Two wargs are prowling around your bus,” Freddie reported. “Just thought you’d want to know.”
Relief attempted to wash through me, but I held back the tide. “Male and female?”
“Aye,” he confirmed. “They smell like mates.” He paused. “And barbecue sauce.”
Our wonky connection to Colby in the tunnels meant I hadn’t warned her about Marita and Derry. I had so much else bouncing around in my head, I hadn’t remembered to mention it after the signal cleared. It was my fault she got spooked, but at least she was safe from her unexpected guests.
“I appreciate the heads-up. We’re on our way now.”
“Do you require assistance?” A twinge of longing filled his voice. “They’re already marinated.”
“They’re allies.” I gripped Asa harder. “Don’t harm them.”
“As you like.”
Texting the alpha warg and his mate, I checked with the guys. “You heard?”
“Marita and Derry?” Asa’s lips twitched. “They didn’t waste time getting here.”
“Who eats barbeque in New Orleans?” Clay twisted his mouth. “A waste of Creole cuisine, in my book.”
“You love barbeque.” I slanted him a look, wishing the Mayhews would answer their phones. “It’s one of your top five foods.”
“Not in New Orleans during Mardi Gras.” He sat back, the tension melting off him. “I should write a guide.”
“The Grumpy Golem’s Guide to Gastropubs?”
“I’m insulted by your word choice.” He meshed his hands behind his head. “I might also steal that.”
“Clay’s Quest for Creole Cuisine.”
“Okay, that one’s good too.” Clay brought his watch to his mouth. “I should be notating these.”
“You could do a guidebook for every city we visit, telling other foodies where to find the best meals.”
“It’s a saturated market.” He slumped, a shiny idea gone dull. “Probably a waste of time.”
“How about set up one of those photo only social media accounts with a catchy title and post food pics there? You can build a following and then decide on the writing part.”
“I’ll think about it.” He fiddled with his watch face. “I might be persuaded to try.”
The thing about Clay was, he loved picking up new hobbies. Usually, they dovetailed with what we liked. Or what he thought we would like. It was his way of caring for those he loved, by engaging their interests. His last big obsession was Mystic Realms, but he passed that mantle on to Blay. It was time he was selfish and picked something that mattered to him, a way to express his creative side.
The distraction of hashing out the food guide worked, and soon we were pulling into the marina.
Sure enough, I spotted Marita and Derry sitting on the tailgate of his pickup, sharing a beer.
Wargs had to work hard to get drunk, and it didn’t last long. Their metabolisms were too fast. But that didn’t mean they didn’t enjoy trying.
We parked behind them, and I got out, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans.
“Hey.” I waved, like a dork. “You’re here.”
Hopping down from the tailgate, Marita aimed for me with a spring in her step. As if she was happy to see me. I realized, when she got in touching distance, how glad I was to see her too.
“Rue.” She picked me up like I was a feather and twirled me. “We’re going to have so much fun.”
“Asa.” Derry leapt down and fired a football straight at his face. “Catch.”
He did, seconds before it would have smashed into his nose, a smile stretching his cheeks.
“That all you got?” Clay inserted himself into the game, moving it away from the RV. I hoped that meant he had Colby in his sights and was providing cover for her to climb back in. “My granny can throw better than that.”
“I’m just warming up.” Derry stretched his arms. “You’re gonna be crying for your granny soon.”
Their easy camaraderie made me curious if Derry had been indoctrinated into the Mystic Realms cult.
“Bite me.” Clay stole the ball from Asa and rocketed it into Derry’s gut. “Or not. I wouldn’t want to turn into a hairball under the full moon.”
“I’ve showered after him,” Marita called. “Full moons aren’t a requirement.”
“Keep talking,” Derry countered, “and I’ll show you a full moon.”
“Derry requires no encouragement to drop his drawers, so unless you want an eyeful of my man’s junk, I suggest we leave the boys to their game and find more ladylike entertainment.” Marita opened the bag slung over her shoulder to reveal a selection of wine coolers. “Let’s go be elegant somewhere else.”
“The last time she broke out that bag,” Derry warned, “she got drunk and fell off the roof.”
“I thought I was a griffin, okay?” She threw a bottle at his head. “I saw my paws and got confused.”
While the guys used the distraction to pummel each other in the head, we sneaked off to the pier.
As much as Colby loved her tech, I might turn to magic to give her a secondary means of communicating. I didn’t want to suffocate her or baby her, but it was too stressful losing touch in times of crisis.
Gah.
Not-exactly-parenting was hard.
“A griffin, huh?” I couldn’t hold in my laugh as we sat. “Thought you could fly?”
“A witch we do business with brews what she calls Downward Dog. It’s the only alcohol that sticks with a shifter. It’s godawful tasting, but one can later, you forget your name. Too bad no one told me that before I tossed back four.” She sat beside me. “Never again.” She pulled out a solid black can with a grinning canine logo. “After tonight.”
“Impressive.” I accepted the piña colada she handed me. “I didn’t know that was a thing.”
“It’s not available for sale. Only trade.” She cracked her bad idea open. “For the novelty factor, mostly.” Wincing, she gulped it down and tossed it. “We’re basically her guinea pigs, and I’m okay with that.”
“I’m more of an eater than a drinker.” I picked at my label. “Loss of control isn’t a great idea for me.”
“I’m the same way during my time of the month.” Humming, she chose a sangria next. “I crave raw meat like you wouldn’t believe. If I don’t eat enough, I start picturing everyone as bloody steaks with tiny arms and scrawny legs.”
A laugh caught in my throat, gratitude for her not judging me making it hard to swallow.
“Tell me about this monster.” She drained her bottle in three draws. “Have you seen it yet?”
Pointing toward the causeway, I explained what we knew so far. “Want to watch the show tonight?”
“Yes, please.” She dipped a toe in the water. “Can we also ditch Derry?”
“Competitive much?”
“He got to see Old Man Fang, and I didn’t. I need the boost to my street cred.”
“Understood.” I scanned the lake for signs of Freddie, but he was gone again. “I don’t see our ride.”
“Do we need a boat?” She lifted the hem of her shirt to reveal a swimsuit. “It’s not that far to swim.”
For a warg with her muscle definition, I imagine it was an invigorating lap.
An idea occurred to me as I debated how to get out there, and I could have smacked myself.
“I can fly.” I set aside the drink. “I know a spell, I mean. For wings. But I’ve only used it once.”
Other than flapping them in the director’s face to cover for Dad, I hadn’t put them to much use.
“I can’t think of a better way to test them than with a nice monster-infested lake beneath you.”
“True.” I kicked off my shoes. “We have an hour before the dinner bell rings.”
Marita shot to her feet and stripped out of her shorts and tee. “Let’s do this.”
“Aren’t you worried about swimming with a sea monster? His name is Pontchy, by the way.”
“From what you’ve told me, he’s a scavenger.” She tied her hair in a bun. “I’m a predator.”
“Hey, predator,” Derry called, his arm hooked around Clay’s throat. “Remember your noodle.”
“Noodle?”
“Not the best swimmer.” She held up a finger. “Be right back.”
The opening gave me a chance to try Colby again.
>Answer me or suffer the consequences.
>>Back in the bus. Phew. That was a workout.
>Sorry I didn’t warn you ahead of time. I didn’t think they would be here so soon.
>>Text me when I need to get scarce.
>Touch base with Clay. He has an idea for you.
>>Will do.
With that weight off my mind, I returned my attention to Marita, who had pillaged their truck bed and was now lugging an armful of floats, noodles, and foam boards to our spot.
“I’ll bring a board for you,” she decided, “in case I need to swim you back to shore.”
Hands cupping his mouth, Derry yelled, “Don’t you mean noodle her back to shore?”
“Shut it, Derriere.” She shook her butt at him then sighed at me. “Mates, am I right?”
“I’m not mated yet.”
“Next best thing.” She pulled on cartoon flamingo water wings. “Oh, I spoke to Ali. She dug up a few stories, but nothing concrete.” She checked their fit. “Want me to ask for more dirt?”
“Thanks, but I don’t think it will help us as much as I hoped it would when I called you.”
“Okay.” She shook out her arms. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Are those goggles?” I swallowed a laugh. “And a nose clip?”
“I know what you’re thinking.” She presented her noodle, slung with a hammock-like seat. “Where does she get her toys?” She selected a board for me. “The answer is—the dollar store.”
“Are you sure about this?” I admired her arsenal. “You aren’t going to drown, are you?”
“I haven’t yet.” She produced a noodle duct-taped into a circle with a mesh shopping bag zip tied around the edge. She dumped her drinks in before it hit me I was looking at a floating cooler. “Let’s pray that trend continues.”
Uncertainty twisted my stomach at the thought of leaving her unsupervised—and drinking—in water.
“I can practice flying later.” I took a noodle hammock from her stash instead. “Let’s go float.”
