Don’t I know it. Discovering I had fae blood was only the tip of my problems, but Caleb wasn’t done yet.
“You are in a unique position, Al,” he said, stepping closer. “We can go to you. We can talk to you. But you’ve taken no vows. Yet. You can work as an intermediary with the police, and they already know you, already trust you.”
I swallowed and glanced over Caleb’s shoulder to where Malik had stopped pacing to watch me; his large, unblinking eyes fixed on me, waiting. I didn’t like the “yet” that Caleb had worked into that little statement, but I didn’t doubt he was right. It wasn’t like I hadn’t noticed the changes in myself since the Blood Moon: the sensitivity to metals, the inability to maintain my shields, and my increased ability to sense fae magic—and that was all on top of the whole seeing multiple planes of existence. Faerie would eventually notice me.
I grabbed my mug again because I had to do something with my hands or I’d start pacing and fidgeting like Malik. I swirled the dark contents, staring at the liquid instead of at Caleb. I could use something stronger than coffee right now. Still, coffee was what I had. I drained the mug in two swallows, barely tasting its lukewarm contents.
Yes, eventually someone important in Faerie would notice me, but that hadn’t happened yet. The fae couldn’t talk to the mortal police, and the FIB, which functioned as the fae police in the mortal realm, belonged to the courts, but Malik was right that they could talk to me.
“The queen is gathering the independents because I revealed those feet?”
Malik nodded. “That was likely only an excuse, but yes. As long as a fae is suspected of the crime, she has the authority to search for the criminal.”
I sank onto my bed, my mind reeling. Did I really want to get involved—or actually, further involved—in this case? I raised shades, got some answers, and then cashed the check. That was the kind of investigator I was. I didn’t hit the street and search for suspects in murder cases.
But the independent fae couldn’t turn to anyone else, and the Winter Queen had free rein to gather the independents as long as the murderer was free. On top of that, since the fae couldn’t talk to the police, there might be information out there that the police desperately needed that I could access and they couldn’t.
I focused on Malik again. “So, what do you know about the feet?”
“Does that mean you’re taking the case?”
“I’m considering it. Do you have some fact I can take to the police that would prove without a shadow of a doubt that the floodplain fae were not involved? Or do you know where the remainder of the bodies are located?”
Malik shook his head. “There were no bodies. Just the feet. They floated down the river all at once, like a fleet of toy boats—”
Lovely image.
“—I thought I’d gathered all of them, but obviously I missed a few in the flooding. I should have made the nixies help. They are silly, frivolous little things, but they know every disturbance in the water. They could tell if a fly hit the water in their territory.”
I’d taken a course on fae races during academy and I vaguely remembered reading about nixies being some sort of water nymph. “Would you be able to arrange for me to question the nixies? If they are that attuned to the water, they might be able to point me to where the feet were dumped. The police are still searching for a primary crime scene and the dump site might shed some clues.”
Malik’s shoulders sagged, his head dipping. “There will be no questioning them unless you want to sneak into the queen’s dungeons. My poor dears. The FIB brutes went after the nixies first. Everyone knows they’re harmless, but that Agent Nori chained them in iron and dragged them away.”
Great.
“What about the kelpie?” Caleb asked.
Malik cocked his head to the side. “Maybe,” he said, running one long finger down the length of his nose. “If those brutes haven’t grabbed her as well.”
I glanced from one to the other of them. “A kelpie? As in a carnivorous water horse?”
Malik nodded. “She has a . . . hungry disposition, but she claims the track of the Sionan River from north of the city down to the edge of the floodplain. She might not be as attuned to the river as my poor nixies, but if you can bargain with her, she might be able to point you toward a general area.”
“That’s miles of river. How do I find her?”
“She frequents the banks below the city. You know the old stone bridge?” Caleb asked, and I nodded.
The bridge, a forty-minute drive past the warehouse district south of the city, was a thing of mystery and rumor. After the Magical Awakening, when the spaces between began to unfold and the perceivable world grew, Nekros had unfolded between Georgia and Alabama. The first settlers in what would quickly grow into Nekros City noted that the stone bridge was already there, and that it was already old.
“Well,” he said, “if you head out toward the bridge, the riverbanks in that area are your best bet. She’s often spotted there.”
Okay, questioning the kelpie would be a good starting point. Hopefully she’d know something. I could ask a few questions, poke around a bit, and hand off what I learned to John. This was legwork, the equivalent of knocking on doors. Except I’m going to be searching the banks for a carnivorous horse. I sighed and pushed myself off my bed.
“If I go looking for the kelpie, what kind of precautions should I take? I mean, according to folklore, kelpies drown their victims, then tear them to pieces to eat them. Is that accurate?”
“I definitely wouldn’t suggest taking up equestrianism,” Caleb said with a grin. “But as long as you don’t climb on her back, you should be safe.”
“If you have any trouble, you can use this.” Malik pulled a leather harness from under his coat.
No, not a harness. A bridle. I cocked an eyebrow. My father had sent my sister and me to camp one summer and we’d learned to ride and care for horses. Cleaning hooves had convinced Casey she didn’t want a pony after all, but it was the bridling and saddling that had gotten to me—the mare I picked wasn’t cooperative. I imagined struggling with a fae would be incalculably worse.
Malik read the skepticism on my face and shrugged. “If you bridle a kelpie, it’s obliged to grant you a request in exchange for its freedom. This particular bridle is enchanted. Toss it over her head and she’ll be caught.”
Well, that changed things. I held out my hand, but Malik frowned. He gripped the leather tighter.
“This is hard for me, Miss Craft. Speaking so freely and giving away treasures—it is not in my nature.”
Even though he was the one who wanted to hire me? “I’ll return it.”
He perked up. “Twice-fold?”
Twice-fold? Like what, two enchanted bridles? “No, oncefold.”
He frowned. “I could help you look for the kelpie.”
“That would be fine.” Appreciated even, but I couldn’t say as much—I didn’t want him twisting this around so he was helping me instead of vice versa.
Malik hesitated a moment more. Then, turning his head away as if he couldn’t bear to look, he handed over the bridle.
I smiled. “Well, Malik, looks like you’re Tongues for the Dead’s newest client.”
It took another hour to work out a contract for the case—and only a verbal one at that. Wording and phrasing were important with the fae. I’d known that. What I hadn’t realized was how difficult it could be to agree on a contract for hire. A normal contract of service was a type of trade: I performed a service in exchange for payment for my time.
“That won’t work,” Malik told me. “It is my nature to get the better deal in any trade and then I’ll still try to trick you out of what you’ve earned.” He inclined his head. “It is who I am.”
Well, at least he was honest.
Then there was the issue of payment. A song? The first snowflake of winter—I think that offer was meant to be ironic, all things considered. The first flower of spring?
Yeah, no. Not appropriate.
I would have lost my patience if Caleb hadn’t been present to arbitrate. In the end, I agreed to gift Malik my time on the case and Caleb agreed to gift me free rent depending on how many hours I spent on the case. I had no idea what agreement Caleb and Malik reached. Caleb also made a point of adding a verbal clause stating that any assistance—including information and magical help—that Malik provided wouldn’t put me in the fae’s debt. Malik looked miffed by the statement, but he agreed to the terms.
Once everything was settled, I moved to the door to show them out but stopped when a shimmering form floated through the wood.
“Hey, Al, I—Whoa, who’s the ugly guy?” Roy asked, shoving his iridescent glasses higher on his nose.
“Malik,” I answered, and then winced when Malik turned at the sound of his name.
“Yes?”
I shook my head. Only I could see or hear Roy. I used to be so good at not talking to people no one else could see. Of course, until recently, I couldn’t have heard Roy unless I’d tried. That was another thing that had changed.
“There’s a ghost,” I said by way of explanation. “He asked who you were.”
“A real specter?” Malik looked around, his dark eyes shining with interest. “Can he frighten the living by making the lights flicker or the table rock?”
“I don’t own a table.”
Malik frowned and glanced around the small apartment as if he hadn’t noticed that before. “True.”
I turned back toward Roy. He’d been excited when he first floated through the door, before he’d gotten sidetracked by my visitors. “What’s up, Roy?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. So I was down visiting my grave, right? They delivered the headstone, and I wanted to see it again.”
I nodded, waiting for him to get to the point. He’d spent twelve years watching his body walk around without him in it. Now that it was decaying in the ground like a corpse should, he visited his own grave regularly—kind of freaky in my opinion, but it was important to him, so I’d helped with the burial arrangements.