Ghost Light (8 page)

He didn’t ask how I had known it was Melusine.  He knew I’d shared in his memories of his ex-wife when riding the visions from his bridle.  I’d recognize the crazy bitch anywhere.

It wasn’t like lamias typically slithered the city streets of the north eastern US.  There were two types of serpent fae, desert dwellers and ocean dwellers.  Melusine was the latter, a half-woman half-sea serpent who normally spent her time in water.  A lamia should not have been seen coiled and ready to strike on the busy, non-desert, non-ocean streets of Harborsmouth.  The woman really was crazy, or I was chasing ghosts.

Crap.  Where the hell was my brain?  The cat sidhe had mentioned ghosts, and I’d been too keyed up to ask the right kinds of questions.  I needed to get Melusine out of town.  Being able to think quick on my feet and problem solve under pressure was what made me a good detective.  But now I was making foolish mistakes because my head wasn’t in the game.  Having that bitch in my city was too much of a distraction.

Not only had I missed an opportunity to ask Torn about my father and the ghost sightings, but I’d also forgotten to mention the ghosts to Kaye during my late night visit.  I’d have to remedy that soon, but it could wait until morning—which was fast approaching.  I wasn’t risking the witch’s wrath again in one night.

“Melusine ran, but you remain unharmed?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.  “I’m fine, really.  But seeing Melusine stressed me out enough to kick-start my wisp powers.  I…I started glowing on a busy city street, in front of a crowd of humans, and a cop.  If it wasn’t for the fog, and the cat sidhe, I’d be in deep trouble right now.”

Ceff knew all about fae law and the implications of my skin glowing unglamoured.  He grew restless, running a hand through damp hair, bare feet shifting on the wet sidewalk.  I froze, waiting for his reply.

As kelpie king he had a duty to uphold fae law.  I held my breath while myriad emotions shifted across his handsome face.  This time Ceff held my fate in his hands.

“Melusine will pay one of these days, but you are right,” he said.  “First we must find this Sir Torn and learn what he knows of your father.  The wisp king was reputed to be a solitary man, a lone traveler often seen wandering the moors and fen land before his disappearance.  With no known friends or allies to contact, my own inquiries have turned up dry.  The cat sidhe must be found.  We must find a way into this Club Nexus.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding.

“We?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said.  “I will help, if you will have me.”

Need stirred low in my belly, but I tamped it down.  Thoughts of taking Ceff home to my bed rose unbidden.  I bit the inside of my cheek to clear my head.  I was just feeling grateful that Ceff wasn’t going to report my crime to either fae court.  By turning a blind eye, he had saved me from possible execution.  And now he was offering to help me on my quest to find my father, starting with questioning Sir Torn.  I felt grateful, that was all.

I looked down to see my traitorous hands start to reach for Ceff, and shoved them back into my pockets.  I was tired and emotional, a natural reaction to the day’s adrenaline rollercoaster.  I needed a shower and my bed, alone.

My stomach growled and I mentally added food to my list.  Ceff laughed, dispelling the serious mood that had settled on our conversation.  I grunted and turned away from the harbor.

“Are you coming with me then?” I asked.  “Or should we meet here in the morning?  I need a few hours sleep.  If you’re coming along, you’ll have to sleep on the couch.”

“I like the couch,” he said, eyes glowing green.

Mab’s bones.  Ceff’s eyes had glowed like that, with passion, once before.  It was during the Winter Solstice and we had been sitting on that very couch.  In fact, that one piece of furniture had become a repository for the memories of that night.  Sometimes, when no one was around, I’d sit there, remove my glove, and place it against the upholstery.  My own private movie of that night imprinted there.

I swallowed hard and waved for Ceff to follow.

Chapter 8

T
he smell of the harbor was left behind, replaced by the unpleasant combination of stale beer, grilled meat, and urine.  We were firmly in the Old Port quarter when my phone rang.  According to the ringtone, it was Jinx.  But she was calling from our office phone, not her cell.

What was Jinx doing at the office this early in the morning?  Even if she hadn’t been nursing a hangover, Jinx being at the office at this hour was odd.  We occasionally stay late for clients with a sun allergy, but Jinx never opened early.  She wasn’t a morning person.  For that matter, neither was I.

I stifled a yawn, frowned, and took the call.

“Hey,” I said.  “I’m almost home.  Ceff’s with me, and we’re on our way to the loft.  What are you doing at the office?”

 “We’ve got a problem,” Jinx said.  “Hold on.”

Something brushed across the phone, probably my roommate’s hand.  I could hear her dry heave in the background and paper rustling.  Did she just puke into one of our wastebaskets?  Maybe I shouldn’t have left her home alone.

“Sounds like you’re the one with a problem,” I said lightly, when she came back on.  “How’s the hangover?”

“Har, har,” she said.  “I’ll never drink with a clurichaun again, that’s for sure.  But that’s not why I’m calling.  The office phone’s been ringing off the hook.  We have emergency cases, plural.  I’m calling these clients back as fast as I can, and I have more calls to make, but the freaky thing is...I think the cases are all connected.”

“I’m on my way,” I said.  I hung up and turned to Ceff.  “Change of plan.  I have to go in to the office.”

“When was the last time you slept or ate?” he asked.

I stuck my tongue in my cheek, thinking back over the past two days.

“I caught a nap the day before yesterday, and I think I ate some toast yesterday morning,” I said.  I shrugged.  “Duty calls.”

Ceff understood all about duty.  He didn’t argue, though he did look at me appraisingly, scrutinizing me from head to foot.

“I will find a place to purchase human nourishment,” he said.  Ceff must not have liked what he saw, because he was slipping into more formal speech—a habit I’d noticed when he was stressed.  “I shall return to your place of business when I am done.”

“And coffee?” I asked, crossing my fingers.

He nodded and strode up the street toward an all-night pizza joint.  Tomatoes and grease were good for a hangover, so it was a good choice.  Jinx might be able to keep some down.

I spun on my heel and dragged myself to the offices of Private Eye, our up-and-coming detective agency.  Business had been good lately, but that didn’t prepare me for the crowd gathered around our door.

People were huddled in front of our office.  Some were wringing their hands, others were crying or comforting the more distraught, but they all had one thing in common.  Every one of the distraught clients was fae.  That was unusual.  We had a booming supernatural clientele since our role in finding Ceff and stopping the
each uisge
invasion of Harborsmouth, but fae, with the exception of pixies and pookas, tend not to gather in large groups.  A mob made up entirely of fae was odd.

What the hell was going on?

“Excuse me,” I said, approaching the crowd.  “Please form an orderly line.  I promise that we will meet with every one of you as soon as we can.”

As soon as the gathered faeries realized who I was, they pushed forward, all talking at once.  I lunged to the side, dodging grasping hands and pleading voices.  I held up my hands, letting the sleeves of my jacket slide down to reveal the silver and iron of my blades.

“Stop!”  I yelled.  “I can’t help you like this.”  Which wasn’t a lie.  If they all touched me at once, I was likely to end up a gibbering mess for days.  “Please form a line at the door and wait your turn.  I promise to do my best to help all of you.”

I swallowed hard and held my breath, waiting to see if they’d listen.  I wanted to run away and wait for the crowd to disperse, less chance of unwanted visions that way, but I didn’t want to leave Jinx alone with this mess.  I had no idea what had worked these fae into such frenzy, but whatever was going on it had to be bad.  I crossed my arms and waited.

A few fae bared their teeth, but they all stepped back and formed a line that stretched around the block.  It was then, as I examined the long line, that I noticed the items clutched in hands, tentacles, mouths, and paws.  Every fae held a child’s toy, blanket, or piece of clothing.

Mab’s bones, I had a bad feeling about this.

With the weight of each red-rimmed eye on me, I cleared my throat and strode to the office door.  I fumbled for my keys with shaking fingers, but Jinx came to my rescue.  She opened the door and hurried me inside.

“Sorry, I told them to wait outside and not to touch you,” she said.

Jinx looked pale, but she had showered and dressed in a clean, black and red, floral halter dress before coming to the office.  The place smelled faintly of air freshener, but I avoided taking a deep breath.  I pressed a hand to my mouth and stifled a sigh.  Running the gauntlet of clients had left my stomach unsettled.  If I smelled the underlying scent of vomit hiding below the air freshener, I’d probably foul my own wastebasket.

I dropped into the client chair facing Jinx’s desk, keeping the faces of anxious fae at my back.

“Do you know why they’re here?” I asked, hooking a thumb over my shoulder.

The phone rang, but Jinx let it go to voicemail.  She pulled her eyes away from the blinking phone lines and chewed a ruby red lip.

“Yeah,” she said, voice a whisper.  Jinx cleared her throat and met my gaze.  My partner didn’t just look hung over, she looked haunted.  “They are here because their children have gone missing.”

“Wait,” I said, gripping the arms of my chair with gloved hands.  “You’re saying that they are all parents of kidnapped kids?”

Jinx nodded.

“Dude, someone took them all,” she said, voice shaking.  “All in one night.  These faerie kids were safe in their beds and then, poof, they were gone.  How is that even freaking possible?”

I’d heard of faeries stealing human children from their beds, but not the other way around.  A mass kidnapping of faerie children didn’t make any sense.

“And the clients on the phone?” I asked.

“More children missing from their homes,” she said.  “I asked the parents to bring something from their kid’s room, something for you to touch.  The ones outside are the first to show up.  They came faster than I expected.”

I closed my eyes, dizziness making the room spin.  Stress and fatigue were catching up with me.  Jinx sucked in a breath and my eyes sprung open to see what was wrong now.  I hoped whatever it was could wait.  I couldn’t face much more without a strong cup of coffee.  I looked down at my wrist and sighed.  The reason for her gasp was evident by the glow rising from my skin.

“Crap, I don’t have time for this,” I said.

“You didn’t eat anything today,” she said.  Jinx tapped a long, red fingernail on her desk blotter and gave me the stink-eye. 
Tap, tap, tap.
  “You didn’t sleep last night, either.”

It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway.

“Nope,” I said.  I released my grip on the chair, pushed hair from my face, and pulled it into a messy bun.  “Ceff’s bringing food, sleep will have to wait.”

There would be no chance for sleep until I’d interviewed every last parent standing outside my office.  I glanced out the window and sighed.  The crowd of fae wasn’t getting any smaller.

This wasn’t a case of one runaway juvenile bugbear.  We were dealing with the kidnapping of dozens of fae children.  To say we were unprepared and understaffed was an egregious understatement.  I was glad that Ceff had decided to stay.  We could use all the help we could get.

I pulled myself up and went to sit behind my desk.  I wasn’t running away from Jinx’s reproachful stare, really.

I thumped down in my chair and prepared myself for the case.  For though we had numerous clients, it was one case—it just had to be.  I closed my eyes and thought about frantic parents finding the beds of their children empty this morning.  I imagined frightened kids huddled somewhere cold and dark.  Rage burned in my chest and I watched the sparks of gold behind my eyelids begin to disappear.  I bit the inside of my cheek and remembered the families outside, desperate to save their children.  I grasped my anger with both hands and held on tight.

Pain and anger had saved me before.  Hopefully, they could burn away the stress, worry, and fatigue until this was all over.   If embracing my anger toward the kidnapper—the true monster here, no matter what my clients looked like—helped to control my wisp powers, all the better.  Walking around the city with glowing skin would make my job more difficult, especially if the fae courts stepped in.

It was hard to locate missing children while buried in a pine box.

Damn, why did it have to be children?  I pounded my fist on the desk, knocking over a coffee mug filled with pens, pencils, and scissors.  I flicked a glance at my reflection in a large pair of scissors that landed on my desk blotter.  My skin was no longer glowing, thank Mab.  It was time to get to work and bring these kids home.

I opened a drawer and pushed in the messy contents of my desk.  I could sort through the detritus later.  For now, I had a job to do.  I lifted my chin and turned to Jinx.

“Let them in,” I said.

Chapter 9

I
met with crying gnomes, limping henkies, growling goblins, wailing banshees, and fluttering sprites—to name a few.  Every faerie who approached my desk had lost a loved one—a child, sibling, or grandchild—in the night.

Though some of the fae races who visited had unsavory reputations, they all seemed genuinely distressed.  Ceff was quick to remind me that all fae have difficulty conceiving.  Faerie children therefore are a rare gift, treasured by their families.  The raw pain on his face drove the point home.  The loss of Ceff’s sons had nearly destroyed him.