Gray tidings, p.8
Gray Tidings, page 8
New Orleans was a city for eating, Clay was right about that, so the lack of a kitchen wasn’t a total bust.
Five minutes into my cleaning spell, which left behind a rather nice pine scent, I got a call. “Hey.”
“We’re here,” Arden announced. “Safe and sound at the townhouse. Well, not anymore. We’re eating.”
“Just thought you’d want to know,” Camber said in the background. “Also? It’s super nice.”
“I’m glad on both counts.” I tensed when I heard masculine voices. “Is your uncle there?”
“He texted.” Arden’s disappointment rang clear. “He said he might not be home until breakfast.”
First an email and then a text. Nolan was nothing if not reliable in his neglect.
As much as I wanted to comment on that, I let it pass. “Then who’s with you?”
Scuffling noises broke out, and Arden groaned before the line whooshed and crackled in my ear.
“Wyatt and Carter.” Camber took over the story. “We went to school with them. We’ve known them forever.” She toned it down a notch. “Arden had the worst crush on Wyatt, but he was captain of the football team and basically a walking cliché factory.”
For Arden to let that slide, she must no longer be in earshot. “And he’s not that now?”
“Oh no.” She laughed. “He is.” She pitched her voice low. “I’m hoping seeing them together will force Aedan to pull his head out of his ass and ask her out already. That, or it’ll convince him to back off. You don’t know how depressing work has gotten. It’s all longing sighs and lingering glances. It’s driving me nuts. They need to get together or get over it.”
If only it were so simple. “Let me know if you guys need anything.”
“Will do.” She sucked in a breath. “I, uh, have to go. My plan might be working too well.”
“Why do you say—?”
The line went dead before I could find out what happened to send her running.
Telling myself it was fine, that everything was okay, I exited the bus and caught a whiff of rot I hadn’t noticed before the cleaning spell scoured my nostrils clear.
“Clay.” I sniffed around him. “Where did you put that card?”
“Not this again.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Let it go.”
“No.” I stuck out my hand. “It’s not that.” I flexed my fingers. “Let me see it.”
With a grumble, he passed it to me, and I brought it to my nose. “There’s magic on this.”
“Let me see.” Asa reached for it and inhaled along the side. “You’re right. I didn’t notice before.”
“It’s not spelled, or it would be stronger.” I took it back. “It’s transference, I think.”
The driver, whose name wasn’t listed, only her number, hadn’t tweaked any of our noses.
“She was a witch?” Clay stared down the road. “A black witch, since we’re debating stink levels.”
“When will Colby’s laptop be here?” I crumpled the paper in my fist. “We need her to verify the woman’s credentials.”
“Do you think it’s a trap?” Asa eyed the vehicle, as if glad for an excuse to avoid it. “Did you sense anything?”
“No.” I tightened my fingers. “I didn’t pick up on this until I stepped outside.”
“A coven, or whatever faction the driver is affiliated with,” Asa said, “might be using the RV for easy money.”
Another reason paranormals flocked to cities that liked to party was for this very reason. They preyed on tourism, in every sense of the word.
“There was this one coven,” Clay said thoughtfully. “They ran a taxi service.” He scrunched up his face. “They spelled high-value paras, harvested their organs while they were unconscious, then dropped them off where they had originally paid to go.”
“Why would you put that idea in my head?” I jabbed a finger at him. “Do not tell Colby.”
“A mobile organ donor service,” Asa mused, eyes crinkling when he noticed my pinched expression. “You have to admit, it’s clever.”
Another side effect of fascination was my newfound ability to get squeamish. I don’t think my stomach minded, exactly. Pretty sure it was all mental. Some instinct ordering me to recoil from the unsavory. It wasn’t my favorite thing. This job was easier when nothing bothered me, but maybe it was a good thing to be bothered, to feel.
Or maybe the feelings were plotting against me, convincing me that embracing them was a good idea.
Emotions were as untrustworthy as Clay left alone with a dozen cookies fresh from the oven, so it was hard to tell.
“Can you shutter the windows?” Asa gripped the door. “I’d like for Blay to take a look around.”
A spark of warmth filled my chest at the mention of the daemon, and I followed Asa in to figure out the controls. Sure enough, we were able to lower shades to conceal the interior, and as soon as they latched in place, Blay burst from Asa’s skin with boundless energy.
“Rue.”
The bus swayed as he sprinted to me, sweeping me up in a bone-crushing hug.
“Hey,” I wheezed as my lungs cried for oxygen, “Blay.”
“Blay search for magic now.” He set me down, angling his wrist so his bracelet caught the light, and I made the appropriate noises. Like I did every time he flashed his bling. “Just wanted to say hi to Rue.”
“Well, hello to you too.” I sat in the driver’s seat to give him room to work. “Hopefully, you can stretch your legs more on this trip.”
With all the hours I had been spending at the office, Blay had been on lockdown. Asa had perfected the art of blending into his surroundings. Blay? Not so much. Crimson skin and horns didn’t lend themselves to camouflage. Plus, he got bored sitting in the same spot all day.
Me too, Blay. Me too.
“Swim in lake?” He poked his head in each of the bunks. “Catch fish?”
“Sure.” I quickly added a caveat, “We’ll have to take you out far enough no one can see you.”
“People see lake monster,” he grumbled. “Why not see me?”
A pang ricocheted through my chest that, like Colby, much of his life was lived in the shadows. I hated it for both of them, but I wasn’t sure how I could fix it for either of them.
“Rue sad.” He circled back to me. “Don’t be sad, Rue.” He patted my head. “Blay swim in dark.”
“I wish you didn’t have to hide.” I settled back in my seat. “It sucks.”
“Blay get tired sometimes.” He rolled a massive shoulder. “Asa know best.”
With that wisdom imparted, he turned and resumed his inspection of the bus, leaving me to wonder.
Was his exhaustion new? Something that always happened? Could Asa tell? And did it determine when and for how long the daemon half surfaced?
Names have power, and we had given Blay one. I worried it might shift the balance within Asa too far in Blay’s direction, but I hoped it hadn’t done the opposite. I couldn’t see how, but I wanted to be sure I hadn’t harmed either of them.
“No bad smell,” he announced, cutting into my worries. “Play with Colby?”
“Sure thing.” I stood then groaned. “I forgot. Her laptop is broken. She can’t play Mystic Seas right now.”
While she could borrow my computer, it was for work only and monitored by the Kellies. She would have to sign into her account, and she was paranoid that Black Hat feelers might latch on to us that way. Given the umbilical stretching between Mystic Realms and my wallet, I agreed it was a valid concern. One that would cause her to double or triple down on her protections as soon as her new device arrived.
“Okay.” He stuck out his bottom lip. “Swim later?”
“Absolutely.” I shot him two thumbs-up. “Do you want your own swim trunks?”
“Yes.” He flashed his bracelet. “Blay likes having Blay things.”
“I’ll get you a pair.” I could add them in to our grocery delivery. “Anything else?”
“Oranges,” he said solemnly. “Scurvy is an ever-present threat.”
That sounded like a sound bite direct from the game. Or Colby. Which wasn’t much different.
“Oranges it is.” I was still smiling when he gave Asa back to me. “Blay wants to go swimming.”
“I know.” He tapped the side of his head. “He wants to pet the sea monster.”
The two of them could open a pathway that allowed them to share thoughts and experiences, but I hadn’t realized they could communicate so clearly.
“That’s new,” I ventured, my earlier fears redoubling. “Anything to worry about?”
“No.” He sank to his knees before me. “You’ve given him a voice, and he’s using it.”
“I hope I didn’t make things worse.” I cupped his cheeks, stroking his temples with my thumbs. “The divide, I mean.”
“You’ve made it clearer, I think.” He turned his face into my touch and kissed my palm. “There’s less friction between us. He lets go more easily, and so do I, to repay him.”
Because Asa didn’t have to worry when or if he would return.
A fear he hadn’t shared with me until now.
One that caused an arctic level chill to sweep down my spine.
Worried I would hurt Blay by asking, I had to chance it. “I’m not going to lose you one day, am I?”
“Not even if you tried.” He shut his eyes, enjoying pets as much as his daemon half. “He and I aren’t at war.” He cracked them open. “Anymore.”
Fragile hope tingled through me, but I was too jittery to focus. “Okay.”
Heavy banging on the door interrupted what few moments we might have stolen alone together.
“Everything okay?” Clay cupped his hands around his eyes like binoculars then pressed them to the door. “Computer’s here, and Shorty’s already swimming through her loot like Scrooge McDuck.”
“All clear,” Asa told him, then sank into the chair beside me.
Arms bristling with bags, Clay waded into the RV and dumped tech store debris everywhere.
“Did you buy her a computer, or did you buy her a DIY supervillain lair?”
“We got a few new toys while we were at it.” He didn’t elaborate. “We also secured a boat.”
“Good.” I got to my feet. “That’s the first thing that’s gone right since we got here.”
Colby emerged from a bag and lit on the tower of boxes. “I’m queen of the mountain.”
“And you’re expected to stay locked inside the castle while we’re gone.” Clay booped the end of her proboscis. “You’ve got plenty of work to occupy you while we’re out on the water.”
Lost in the depths of her plastic fortress, she must not have heard over the ripping and tearing.
“You two ready to go?” Clay hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Our ride’s here.”
“Yeah.” I ignored the prickle of unease at the base of my skull. “Let’s find us a sea monster.”
7
The moment I stepped foot on the grass, a boy of about ten or twelve eased into view.
Familiarity niggled my memory, but recognition failed me until he flashed a black-toothed grin.
“Freddie,” I greeted him with a horrible premonition about our ride. “You’ve grown.”
“Seven a boy, seven a man, seven a codger.”
As if that explained everything when it left me with even more questions about his appearance.
Asa and Clay joined us, and Clay produced a rusted nail he handed me.
“Keep it on you.” He flashed me its twin on his palm. “It’ll keep you safe.”
“What about Asa?” I tucked the cold iron nail into my kit then cleaned my hands to prevent transferring any residue to him. “What will protect him?”
“From the vicious glint in your eye,” Freddie cackled with sly amusement, “I’d say you, girlie.”
Holding his gaze, allowing every ounce of menace in me to show, I agreed, “I’m good with that.”
“Figured it’d suit you.” He set off with a spring in his step. “You reek of fascination. Positively stink of it.”
The look I shot Clay called his sanity into question, but he dangled his nail in my face then pocketed it.
“He’s the AIC, and he owns a boat. He’s the obvious fit.” He pitched his voice lower. “Let him get away with sitting on his thumb during a case, and he’ll think you’re afraid of him.” He leaned even closer. “That would be a very bad idea, given how much time we’re about to spend on the water.”
The brat would drown me. That was what he meant. Either ride in his floating shanty or appear weak.
There was no room for weakness in our world, except in the belly of the strong.
The houseboat made an ominous creaking noise when Clay stepped onto the deck. I’m not proud to admit I waited to see if it would sink before trying my luck. It protested my weight and grumbled about Asa, dipping lower in the water and moaning as if the cabin were about to split in two.
“Are you sure this is safe, Freddie?” I jerked my chin toward Clay. “We carry a lot of extra weight.”
The extra weight in question glared daggers at me and sucked in his already flat stomach.
“Eh.” Freddie patted the side of his house. “We can always use the golem as an anchor, if we must.”
“Do you want me to fix that slant for you?” Clay lifted the corner on a polycarbonate panel corrugated to resemble tin roofing. “I have plenty of iron nails.”
The threat sank in, and Freddie bared his crumbling teeth at Clay, his eyes going black around the edges.
“I welcomed you into my home.” Freddie palmed a wicked-looking fishing spear. “You would disrespect me so?”
“I heard no formal acknowledgment of guest rights.” Clay spread his hands. “Are you offering?”
The trap Clay set for him snapped closed, leaving Freddie a choice of hosting us or dishonoring himself.
“No harm will come to you by my hand,” he grumbled, “so long as you offer none in return.”
“We appreciate your hospitality,” Asa said for all of us. “You do your mother proud.”
From what I recalled of the lore of Jenny Greenteeth, she lured the elderly and children to their deaths. Drowned them and ate them. Left their bones to decorate the bottom of her lake. Not someone whose pride I would want to earn, but I couldn’t throw stones, not with my gnarled and twisted family tree.
“It would warm the cockles of her heart to hear you say so, I’m sure.” Freddie set aside his weapon. “If she had one.” His eyes turned soft. “Cold as a fish, is my mom. No better woman alive. Or dead, for that matter.” His blue tongue winked through his smile. “But then, some mothers are better off dead.”
Faint warning bells rang in the back of my head, fear he knew Mom’s condition, but that was impossible.
More than likely, he was searching for a scab to pick. Thanks to the director, I had plenty of open wounds for him to choose from. Everyone knew my mother was dead. Everyone thought Dad was too.
They didn’t know he was alive, for now, and she was back among the living. Also for now.
“It’s nice that you’re close with your mom,” I said blandly. “Hard to find that bond these days.”
“Aye,” he agreed, and his face sharpened before my eyes into early adolescence. “Pity that.”
Whistling a jaunty tune, he disappeared belowdecks, and I was relieved to see him go.
The steady rumble of the engine beneath my feet fueled my hope we wouldn’t end up marooned in sea monster-infested waters. The boat resembled a shipwreck dredged from the bottom of the lake, but the problem with fae was they sprinkled glamour over everything the way others seasoned with salt. Even the modest wake was concealed so that it appeared we slid across the water like it was glass.
An easy fix was adding hag stones to my kit. As finicky as magic was around water, I should have thought of that before we left. Peer through the hole worn away by nature in the stone’s center, and you can see through basic illusions.
Right about now, I would love to know if this vessel was sea—or lake—worthy.
Preferably before the sea monster came to investigate, and we found out the hard way.
Freddie returned with a can full of dirt and wriggling worms in hand and sank into his lawn chair.
“How is the monster being fed?” I drifted closer. “Are the bodies being dumped at the shore or—?”
“The bridge.” He selected a cane fishing pole. “They’re thrown off at a minute past midnight.”
“The same time every night?” Asa slanted me a glance. “They’re establishing a feeding schedule.”
“That makes it sound like a pet.” I caught myself staring at every ripple on the water, reminding myself it was content dining on the dead. As if sensing my trepidation, Freddie chortled at me. “Anything else unusual happening we ought to be made aware of?”
Say, a powerful black witch rising from the dead? And bringing his wife’s spirit along for the ride?
“This is New Orleans, during Mardi Gras.” He belted out a wild laugh. “Usual has no place here.”
“I walked into that one,” I allowed. “Anything we should be concerned about?”
“Amaury Garnier has misplaced his eldest daughter. Covens are combing the streets for her, but there has been no news for days. He claims she’s a Lazarus, a fool thing to do, announcing it like that while she is out of his hands. No one knows who her mother is, but all the same. That bloodline ran dry ages ago.” He twirled a hook between his fingers, ready to bait another line. “Necromancers eradicated them.”
“Lazarus.” I swallowed a ball of dread. “As in the resurrection myth?”
“The very same.”
“Four days dead,” Asa murmured. “Then Lazarus rose.”
Mom had been dead a lot longer than four days. Or four weeks. Or four months. Or four years.
But hope had fishhooks that pierced your skin and tore your flesh if you tried to rip it out.
“It’s time.” Clay checked his smartwatch. “Where will the body drop take place?”
“Just ahead,” Freddie assured us. “We’ve a prime view for the show.”
I marked it on my phone with a pin in a navigation app then took photos and filmed the dark underbelly of the causeway. I didn’t expect to find anything, and I wasn’t disappointed. There was nothing there.
