Grave Dance Part 4

Caleb tucked my phone into his back pocket and turned to face Malik. "What do you know about this?"

The gangly fae c.o.c.ked his head to the side, one bushy eyebrow lifting as he shuffled forward. I stumbled back, out of arm's length, and the fae hesitated. He blinked at me, as if surprised by my fear and not pleased at being the cause. We stared at each other for a moment, and when he stepped toward the door again, I held my ground.

He peered around the doorframe and after a single glance shrugged. "It's not mine."

"It has to-" I stopped. No, it didn't have to be his. He hadn't said he didn't put the dagger there, only that it didn't belong to him.

Caleb obviously came to the same conclusion. "Do you know anything about the dagger or how it ended up here?"

Malik blinked his large, dark eyes, surprise at Caleb's clarification obvious on his face. Then the surprise hardened to anger and he straightened to his full height, his head inches from the ceiling. He tugged at the hem of his unseasonable coat, making whatever was inside clatter.

Caleb met the taller fae's gaze. "If you want her help, you're going to have to be straight with her. I told you that before we came here. Now what do you know about that dagger?"

Malik glanced at me, the conflict in his features clear, but after a moment he let out his breath and his knees bent again, his posture slumping. "I've never seen that dagger before and I have no knowledge of how it came to protrude from your porch." The clear and indisputable statement seemed to pain him, his thin lips cutting downward as he spoke.

Well, no wiggle room in that statement. But if he didn't drive the dagger into my porch, who did? I turned back to the open doorway.

PC, noticing the open door for the first time, darted out from under the bed. I intercepted him, scooping him into my arms and clutching his warm gray body tight. "Outside later," I told him, whispering the words into the soft white hair on the top of his head.

"Do you think it's a threat or a warning?" Caleb asked, pulling my phone back out of his pocket. Apparently now that Malik wasn't the main suspect he would let me call the police. "Or it could be a trap," he said, frowning.

A trap? By the same person who'd sent the construct? Only one way to know for sure. I took the phone from him, but I hesitated before dialing and reached with my senses. Unfortunately, the same wards that protected me from outside interference locked my own magic inside the house. To sense spells on the dagger I would have to leave the safety of the wards, which if this was a trap, didn't sound like a great plan. Except . . . From my spot in the doorway, I studied the intricate hilt.

"I think that's my dagger." Which didn't eliminate the possibility of a trap, especially since I'd lost the dagger a month ago when I'd exhausted the spells enchanting the blade by using it to overload a magical circle. After I'd escaped the circle, I'd lost track of the dagger and when I'd gone back to search for it, it had vanished.

I glanced at the phone in my hand. Calling the police was the smartest move, but if it was the same dagger I'd lost . . .

I've already delayed this long; what would a few more minutes cost? After all, Caleb and Malik had entered my loft from the inner door, so the dagger could have been driven into the porch anytime since I'd arrived home last night.

I lowered my mental shields, letting my psyche span the chasm between planes. The wards kept my ability to sense magic locked inside, but they did nothing to my grave-sight. Colors dulled as in my vision the wood around the dagger rotted and the note browned and curled, but the dagger remained the same. Whatever metal the fae-wrought dagger had been forged from, it had never tarnished or rusted, not even in my grave-sight, and this dagger didn't either. It shimmered with the enchantments bound in the metal, but again, my lost dagger had done the same. I glanced around the landing. The tendrils of Aetheric energy were as chaotic as ever, but I didn't see any disturbance that looked like a spell ready to descend on the unwary. I also didn't see any glamoured or spelled forms ready to spring out as soon as I stepped through the door. If this was a trap, I wasn't spotting a cage.

I snapped my shields closed and set PC down. He looked at me and then the door. Shaking my head, I nudged him and he grudgingly headed toward the bed, his nails clicking on the hardwood. Once he'd jumped onto the mattress, I headed for the door.

Caleb grabbed my arm, his fingers feverishly hot against my own lower body temperature. "I'll take a look," he said, stepping into my path. He didn't give me time to protest before he walked out onto the porch.

Nothing happened.

He squatted beside the dagger, not touching it. Caleb wasn't a sensitive, so if there were malicious spells on the dagger, he wouldn't be able to tell, not until it was too late. I, on the other hand, could sense magic. I ignored his disapproval as I joined him on the porch.

Without the shields in my bracelet or the house wards to block the grave essence, the chill of the grave swarmed around me. It clawed at my mental shields like dozens of spectral hands searching for cracks in my defenses. There was a graveyard a mile away, and there were other, smaller graves even closer than that, but I didn't want to feel them. I blocked hard, concentrating on keeping the vines encircling my psyche sealed tight. The real trick was to shield while still reaching with my ability to sense magic.

I focused on the gleaming hilt a foot from my toes. Enchantments swirled inside the metal, but they didn't feel malicious. They felt familiar.

Very familiar.

"It's my dagger." It seemed impossible, but somehow it was the same dagger, one of a pair. The enchanted blade could cut through almost any material. I'd thought I'd lost it forever. I reached out, tracing a single finger along the intricate design. Then I closed my hand around the hilt.

Magic purred across my palm and an eerie, alien consciousness touched the edge of my mind. But that wasn't unexpected. The enchantments forged into the fae-wrought blade gave the dagger not so much an intellect as a sense of awareness. It liked to be drawn, to be wielded, to cut through skin, through magic-and right now, it did not like being driven into wood.

"Al?" Caleb edged closer, the muscles in his legs bunching as if he were a moment from leaping to his feet.

I felt much the same way. I still hadn't spotted a trap, but I was ready to leave the exposed position of my porch. After a quick glance around, I tugged on the dagger. The blade slid free of the wood effortlessly, the note moving with it.

Caleb jumped to his feet and I whirled around, dagger in hand. Nothing happened. No magically constructed monsters appeared, nor did a shadowy witch or malicious fae emerge to ambush us. Not even a spell charged the air. The suburban neighborhood street was empty, nonthreatening. I scanned the dagger and note once again with my ability to sense magic. Nothing. I wasn't going to wait around for that to change. Clutching the dagger, I hurried inside, Caleb at my heels.

"What does the note say?" Caleb asked as soon as the door shut behind us.

I pulled it from the blade, trying not to damage it worse than being pinned to the porch had done. The paper was a thick vellum that rustled and cracked as I unfolded it. I recognized the neat script immediately.

"It's from Rianna." I said, frowning as I read over the carefully penned letters.

Alex, I need your help. Please, come to the Eternal Bloom. I'll be in the VIP section all day and through the night.

Forever your friend, Rianna P.S.I heard about the cu sith attack. I had your dagger repaired. I only hope it can help you. Be careful, and please, come see me.

I reread the short note twice. Then I handed it to Caleb. He read it aloud. While he read, I dug through my top drawer, looking for the sheath enchanted specifically for the dagger-it wasn't exactly safe to leave a blade that could cut through anything just lying around.

Why would Rianna pin a note to my porch? It didn't make sense, though knowing she was the one who'd left the dagger actually did explain some things. Rianna, my roommate from academy, had been a captive of Faerie until recently. The last time I'd seen her I'd freed her from the slave-chains binding her and she'd saved my life. She'd been one of the few witnesses to what happened under the Blood Moon when I'd lost the blade. Also, the dagger had originally been a gift from her.

But why the threatening display? And why hadn't she just knocked on the door? Unless she didn't deliver it. Her note said she needed help. Was that the trap? Was someone using Rianna to draw me to the Bloom? Of course, if that was the case, why make a production of delivering the note? Why put me on my guard? The Eternal Bloom was Nekros's only fae bar, and the majority of its profits were drawn from humans gawking at the unglamoured fae who worked in the bar. But the VIP area was different-it was a pocket of Faerie.

My fingers finally landed on the sheath, its leather buzzing lightly with magic. It was still in the holster I'd used to keep the dagger in my boot through most of the Coleman case, which was probably best-it looked like I needed to wear it again. Kneeling, I rolled up my pants leg and strapped the dagger in place.

When I looked up, I found Caleb staring at me, the note still in his hand. Malik stood beside him, and I started. I'd gotten so caught up in the dagger and Rianna's note, I'd forgotten about Malik. A new wave of adrenaline flooded my system. I stood, crossing my arms over my chest.

If Malik had planned to hurt me, he'd had the opportunity while I'd been distracted-but he hadn't taken it. A good sign, I guessed. I opened my mouth to tell him I'd listen to what he had to say, but Caleb spoke before I got a chance.

"You didn't tell me you were attacked by a cu sith."

I blinked. "It wasn't like it was wearing an ID tag."

Caleb turned to his friend. "And you, you didn't tell me either. You didn't think that was worth mentioning?"

Malik's shoulders crowded his large ears as he cringed, and a tinge of color flared in his pallid cheeks. "I was holding the information as a bargaining chip."

"A bargaining chip? I told you that you'd have to be straight with her."

"Well, she hasn't so much as agreed to hear me out yet, has she?"

"h.e.l.lo, I'm right here," I said, giving both men a mock wave. "Holly and I were attacked by a glamour construct built on witch magic that tried to kill us. Does the shape the glamour took really matter?"

"Yes," both men said simultaneously, and I stumbled back a step.

"Okay." I looked from one to the other. "Explain. No, actually, wait. You were on the street yesterday," I said, focusing on Malik. "I saw you. Did you have anything to do with that creature. Anything at all?"

Malik hesitated long enough that I thought he might not answer. Then he blew air out between his teeth and said, "I was following you because I wanted to talk with you. When I saw the cu sith I actually thought it was after me. Until it saw you and howled."

I wasn't convinced, and I didn't see how the beast howling at me changed anything, but I nodded for him to continue.

"Cu sith are a type of faerie dog-" he said, and I scoffed under my breath.

"That was no dog. The giant faerie cousin of a dire wolf maybe, but not a dog."

Malik cleared his throat, ignoring my commentary. "As I was saying, cu sith are a type of faerie dog that disappeared centuries before the Awakening. You said it tried to kill you, but the cu sith were never trained to kill. Inside Faerie they guarded against intruders, but when they were sent out of Faerie to hunt, their role was that of retriever. They howled only once they spotted their prey, and if their target heard the third howl before reaching safety, Faerie claimed that mortal-forever."

I shivered, remembering the beast's red eyes locking on me, its giant head tilting back, the howl that made me want to fall to my knees and cower. Twice. It had howled twice. I'd been afraid of its teeth, of its claws. I would never have realized I needed to be afraid of its howl.

"So it was there to steal me away to Faerie?"

Malik shrugged. "Like you said, it was a construct. But it is my belief that it intended to steal you away to somewhere."

I stared at the gangly fae, not really seeing him anymore. My knees felt weak, rubbery, and I wanted to be alone to think about this information. That didn't seem to be an option.

After the silence stretched several moments, Malik cleared his throat again. "Will you hear me out, Miss Craft?"

I nodded absently and Malik fidgeted, rubbing his fingers and shuffling his feet so that the points of his knees pressed through the threadbare material of his pants.

"As I'm sure you'll recall," he said in his hauntingly musical voice, "two days ago you trekked through my territory in the floodplain and found a pile of feet. Afterward, we had a rather unfortunate encounter."

"All of that was rather memorable."

"Yes, well . . ." He paused and glanced back at Caleb, who nodded, and Malik let his hands fall to his sides. Then he rolled his shoulders and straightened to his full height again. "My life and livelihood are in danger. I need to hire you, Miss Craft."

Chapter 5.

I poured coffee into three mismatched mugs and carried them to my "guests." Caleb sipped his politely, but Malik clasped his mug between both hands without seeming to be aware of it. His gaze flickered around my small apartment, never staying in one place too long. Clearly I wasn't the only uncomfortable one.

I owned only one chair, and I wasn't about to invite Malik to plop down on my bed, so after handing off the mugs, I leaned against the wall. Then I stalled, blowing on my coffee to gain an extra couple of seconds as I tried to decide how to handle the situation.

"I'm going to guess that you're not interested in having a shade raised," I said, watching Malik over the rim of my mug.

He shook his head.

Figured.

"What is it you think I can do for you, Mr. Malik?"

"Actually, it is what we can do for each other. Your actions two days ago brought Faerie's attention down on the fae in the floodplain," he said, and then paused, as if waiting for some response from me.

"I'm not going to justify helping the police in their search for a serial killer."

"I hid those feet for a reason!"

A reason? I glanced at Caleb, letting my uncertainty bleed into my expression. The good guys didn't hide disembodied appendages.

He met my gaze, but there were no answers in his eyes. They were the same blue he usually wore while glamoured, but I'd never been more aware that the person behind that glamour was so other.

I swallowed a gulp of coffee without tasting it and let my hand fall casually to my pocket. I could reach my phone, but my recent upgrade to a touch screen meant there would be no dialing numbers by feel. "Are you admitting to the murder of those people?" I asked Malik, my voice just above a whisper.

"Of course not. I hid the feet, but they were already severed when I found them. And before you ask, no, I don't know how they came to be that way."

"Then why hide them in the first place?"

His fingers clenched his mug. "To avoid the very scrutiny you have brought to my home!"

At Malik's outburst, PC, who'd fallen asleep on his usual pillow, jumped to his feet with a yelp. Then he dove off the bed and ducked behind the bedskirt. Not exactly a guard dog. Malik set his mug on the counter and took a deep breath.

He released the breath slowly, and when he spoke again, his voice was calmer. "That scrutiny is unavoidable now. But you've also drawn attention. The best thing for both of us would be if the murderer is caught as soon as possible."

Well, I couldn't argue with that. There were seven left feet in the morgue-it would be best for everyone if the killer was found before he or she killed again. But . . . "What is it you think I can do?"

Malik frowned. "You're an investigator. Investigate." Right. Searching for a serial killer was way out of my job description. If enough of one of the bodies was recovered that a shade could be raised, I would gladly help the police question the victim, but the last time I'd gotten actively involved in a major investigation I'd nearly died. And then I'd been arrested.

I pushed myself off the wall. I'd heard enough. Malik had said he'd found-and hidden-the feet but didn't know anything more about them. Fae couldn't lie, so I had no choice but to believe him. John, and most likely the FIB, since they had taken over the case, would still want to question Malik, but I wasn't going to antagonize him by calling the police while he stood in my loft. I'd kick him out first.

"I don't think I'll be able to help you," I said, giving him a wide berth as I headed for the door.

"You're the only one in the position to help us."

I stopped, my hand hovering over the doork.n.o.b. That whole not-being-able-to-lie thing meant that when Malik said I was the only one who could help, he honestly believed that was true, and considering everything Caleb had done to make this conversation happen, I a.s.sumed he agreed. I turned back around.

"Why me, and who is included in 'us'?"

"'Us' would be the fae in the floodplain in particular, but also extending to all the independent fae in Nekros." Malik paced across my small apartment. "Yesterday she ordered the floodplain cleared. All fae inside were to be taken to Faerie for questioning, but the brutes she sent came with iron chains, and none of the fae they captured have returned. There's war brewing in Faerie and she's bolstering her court with our numbers."

"That is only speculation," Caleb said, but he didn't sound sure. In fact, I thought I caught an edge of fear in his voice.

"She?" I asked because they obviously both knew what woman they were talking about, but I surely didn't.

Caleb pushed away from the counter. "The Winter Queen. Nekros City is part of her territory."

"The winter court? Seriously?" I frowned at Caleb.

"Nekros City hardly has a proper winter. I can count on one hand how many times it's snowed here and the snow stuck to the ground more than an hour. h.e.l.l, half the trees don't have the decency to lose their leaves. Shouldn't the winter court hold territory somewhere, I don't know, cold?"

Caleb shrugged. "Faerie is the ultimate contradiction. It is unchanging and yet ever in flux. Doors in Faerie are . . . inconsistent. For the past few years the door from Nekros into Faerie has opened to the winter court so Nekros City is part of the queen's territory. The door will change soon enough, and all the fae with ties to the winter court will move on, making room for the next court. Only the independent fae, those who have tied themselves to the mortal realm instead of Faerie, will remain."

That was more information than I'd ever gotten out of Caleb at one sitting before. And it was clearer than any of the lessons the one and only fae teacher the academy had hired to teach students fae history had ever been-our teacher definitely had never taught us anything about the doors to Faerie moving. I sipped my coffee, giving myself a second to absorb this information and let it infiltrate my limited understanding of Faerie. Then I put the mug aside.

"If the queen is illegally gathering the independent fae, shouldn't you go to the FIB?" After all, if the local court was kidnapping fae, someone with a lot more authority than I had needed to know.