Grave Dance Part 6

"Calm down. Kelpies are like sharks with hooves-they can smell blood in the water for miles. A few drops should be enough to get her attention."

Right, a couple of drops of blood so the kelpie could get a taste for me-because that wasn't creepy. I stared at the rus.h.i.+ng water. The hope that the kelpie had information about the location of the crime scene was the only lead I currently had. I'd bled for worse reasons. Finally I nodded.

"So just a couple of drops in the water?"

Malik rubbed the point of his sharp chin. "Yeah, but it would be best if you could put them in at the middle of the river."

Which meant trekking back to the bridge. Well, that was where the car was anyway. If this didn't work out, I had to leave soon. We'd been walking for at least an hour, and I still needed to make it to-and out of-the Eternal Bloom before dusk. Driving after dark wasn't an option with the extent to which grave-sight had deteriorated my night vision.

The walk back was no more companionable than the first part of the hike had been, and by the time I spotted the gray stone bridge, sweat coated my skin. Gee, I'll be pleasant-smelling company when I meet Rianna. I wiped damp curls from my face and followed Malik to the center of the bridge. He turned to me, nodding without a word. Guess I'm on.

Most witches carried fingersticks for activating or personalizing charms, but the only spells I used that required blood magic were healing charms, and, well, I was typically already bleeding if I needed one, so I didn't have a fingerstick with me. I did have two daggers: the ceramic knife I used to cast circles outdoors and the enchanted dagger. I tended to drag the ceramic knife through the dirt, so it definitely wasn't sterile, but I was reluctant to give a somewhat aware dagger a taste of my blood. But I'm willing to give a taste to a man-eating horse? It was probably better if I didn't think about that.

I dug through my purse and pulled out the ceramic dagger. A quick examination of the blade showed a caked-on smear of mud. I sc.r.a.ped off as much as I could with my fingernail and then wiped the blade on the leg of my pants. That was about as clean as it was going to get. I would definitely need a disinfectant when I got home.

After p.r.i.c.king my finger, I sheathed the knife and dropped it back in my purse. I squeezed my finger and blood welled from the small wound. Holding my hand over the edge of the bridge, I squeezed until gravity forced a fat drop of blood to fall to the water below. Malik stepped forward after the third drop hit the water.

"That should be enough," he said, leaning over the stone railing to stare at the river's choppy surface.

I dug through my purse until I found a tissue. Pressing the tissue against my finger, I waited, watching the water rush under the bridge. Nothing changed.

After several moments, I shook my head and dropped the tissue back into my purse. "I don't think it worked."

"No, look. It did." Malik leaned farther over the edge of the bridge and pointed at a spot near the center of the river, almost directly where my blood would have hit the water.

I squinted at the dark shape. "That's a turtle."

He shook his head. "It's the kelpie. You called her. You need to identify yourself."

"Uh, hi. I'm Alex Craft," I said, feeling stupid talking to what I was pretty sure was a turtle or a fish. The shadow began to sink back under the water, and Malik's head snapped toward me. His dark eyes went wide, and his hands fluttered as if urging me to say more. "I work with Tongues for the Dead, and I'd like to ask you a few questions."

The small shadow stopped. Then it grew larger. And larger. I could have sworn the river didn't run too deep here, but the shadow grew to the size of a dog and then to the size of a cow. It headed for the bank. Apparently not a turtle. I shouldered my purse and ran toward the bank, Malik at my heels.

A large equine head emerged from the water. The kelpie's coat was a dank grayish brown like the dark silt and seaweed tangled in the slimy mane clinging to her long neck. She lifted one large hoof onto the bank, and then another, not so much as scrambling as she climbed from the water. Her hooves struck the ground like thunder as she trotted toward me, and I stopped short. She was ma.s.sive, each hoof the size of a dinner plate, and even in my three-inch boots, I stood only as tall as her large back.

My hand twitched toward the enchanted bridle in my purse, and I forced my fingers away. I wanted to talk with her, if she was willing, not jump straight to trickery. No use making an enemy if I didn't have to. Nevertheless, it was hard to remain still as the kelpie lowered her head and drew in enough air to make the curls around my face quiver. She let the air out again, blowing her lips and revealing very sharp-and very unhorselike-teeth.

"You smell delicious, Alex Craft with Tongues for the Dead." The voice that emerged from her horse mouth was surprisingly feminine and her enunciation perfect. "Sleagh Maith with a mix of mortal? Would you like to go for a ride, little feykin?" She knelt on her front legs to give me easier access, but I backed away.

"No. That's okay."

"More's the pity." She turned her attention to Malik.

"Oh, it's you, Sh.e.l.lycoat." Her lips curled away from those sharp teeth. It was strange to see a snarl on a horse, but the expression was unmistakable. She huffed her breath and as the air rushed out of her the skin on her neck flared. Gills? "What an unpleasant surprise." She tossed her head, flinging water and muck from her mane.

I stepped back, but I couldn't avoid the spray. I wiped the muddy water from my cheek with the back of my hand and frowned at the dark spots dotting my top, but there wasn't time to do anything about it as the kelpie turned back toward the river.

"Wait." I reached out, my hand brus.h.i.+ng her side. Her muscles quivered under my fingers and I jerked my hand back. What I'd originally taken as fur was actually hundreds of small, sticky scales. I stepped back a bit, but didn't move far. "I need to ask you some questions."

The kelpie turned and studied me with one large, milky eye. "Part ways with Sh.e.l.lycoat and come to my home for supper. You may ask me any question you wish during the meal."

Was that a legitimate offer, or would I be part of dinner? Either way, she lived under the river, and I definitely couldn't breathe water. I shook my head. "I'd prefer to keep my feet on dry land."

"Then why should I answer your questions, Alex-Craftwith-Tongues-for-the-Dead-who-prefers-to-keep-her-feet- on-dry-land?"

I blinked at the t.i.tle and glanced at Malik. He rolled his shoulders and stood straight so that he matched the kelpie's impressive height.

"You should answer because Ms. Craft is working to protect the independent fae in Nekros from the grasp of the Winter Queen."

Pale skin flashed beneath the kelpie's gills. "And what care I for the troubles of other independents?"

"You'll care if the queen saddles and stables you."

It was hard to read the kelpie's equine features, but I think she glared at Malik. After several silent seconds, she turned to me, her large eyes unblinking. That's as close to permission as I'm likely to get. I asked my question.

"A group of feet recently floated down the Sionan River and washed up in the floodplain to the south. They were tossed into the river sometime in the last four or five days. Do you remember seeing or otherwise sensing the feet floating through your territory?"

The kelpie's lips once again curled back from those sharp, predatory teeth. "The grotesque offering? The meat was putrefied by magic. It offended me."

Offering? That was an unusual way to view body parts dumped in the river, but the feet the police had found were certainly saturated with dark magic, so I guessed we were talking about the same thing. I shuddered at the idea that she'd actually tried to eat one of the feet, but if I thought about it, that wasn't really unexpected.

"Do you know where the, uh, 'grotesque offering' was tossed into the river?"

"In the place that reeks of iron, near one of the thundering gates."

Well, that's as clear as river muck. The place that "reeked of iron" was probably the city-no fae liked iron and the city had a lot of it. But what were the "thundering gates"?

I didn't get a chance to ask. A hiccup erupted in my chest, interrupting me. I pressed my fingers over my lips just as a second hiccup hit, followed by a third.

The charm. Glamour-and not from the kelpie or Malik.

I whirled around, glancing over the bank, the bridge, and the road as I turned. Nothing. My gaze shot to where the woods encroached on the river. Still nothing.

Another hiccup gripped my chest, bursting from my throat, and I cringed. Okay, charm, I got the point. There was glamour being used nearby, but I really wished the charm had a better way of warning me. At least I'd had the foresight to attach the charm with a quick-release clasp this time. I unhooked it from the bracelet and pried open my s.h.i.+elds.

My grave-sight snapped into focus, painting the forest in muted shades as the landscape decayed. Several yards away, amid the forest of rotted trees, a troll moved silently through the wilted underbrush. His shoulders were wide enough that he had to turn sideways to step between two thick trees and avoid tearing the dark business suit he was wearing. His hands, each as big as my head, dragged the ground beside bare green feet sticking out under the hemmed legs of his slacks. I thought for a moment his hands were brown with moss green mounds over his knuckles, until I realized he wore gloves, the leather worn away on the top.

He moved slowly, sucking in his gut to allow more clearance between the tree trunks. But not enough clearance. Bark flaked off the trees as he brushed past. Beside me, the kelpie's ears twitched, the skin on her neck quivering as she snapped her head toward the forest. The troll's glamour might have hidden his footsteps, but we all heard the explosion of bark.

Malik wrung his hands, glancing from the forest to me. "What do you see?"

"Troll," I whispered, hoping the troll in question wouldn't hear. He'd paused when he brushed against the tree, as if waiting to see if we had noticed.

We had.

I'd met only one troll before, and it had been rather slow on the uptake. This one looked much more astute-it was probably the suit. If nothing else, the suit definitely implied that roaming the wilds wasn't part of his normal routine.

"I'm guessing trolls aren't common in this area?" I asked, but the only answer I received was a loud splash behind me.

I turned in time to see ripples and the kelpie's dark shadow fade under the surface of the water. I glanced at Malik-or at least at where Malik had been. Now there was only his retreating back.

I whirled back around, and the movement dislodged small pebbles, sending them tumbling down the bank to make plink plink sounds as they hit the water. The troll was running now, bounding toward me. c.r.a.p. My muscles tensed, preparing to send me bolting away. My car wasn't far, just on the other side of the bridge. Then the troll reached into his coat, pulling his sidearm and in the process flas.h.i.+ng the badge at his waist.

"Freeze-FIB," he yelled as he leveled a gun large enough to be a small cannon at Malik's fleeing back.

I froze. For one endless moment, even my heart stopped. Then the next beat crashed hard, threatening to knock me forward. I lifted my hands slowly, palms open to show I carried no weapon and was preparing no spell. Not that it mattered. The troll never looked at me.

He thundered by, each stride of his tree-trunk-thick legs eating the ground in a ma.s.sive gait. Still the distance between him and Malik grew.

"Malik Sh.e.l.lycoat, by order of the winter court I command you to stop," he yelled, his voice booming but already breathless.

Malik dove into the forest, slipping silently through the underbrush until he vanished among the trees. The troll crashed after him, trees shuddering and bark exploding like shrapnel as he shouldered through.

I remained by the bank, my hands in the air until both fae had vanished from sight. Then I lowered my arms, glancing around. I could still hear the troll's loud pursuit in the distance, and I half expected to spot the troll's partner approaching me, gun out and cuffs in hand. But there was no one.

Time to get out of here.

I grabbed my purse from where I'd dropped it when the troll appeared and snapped my s.h.i.+elds closed. I hadn't had my grave-sight active long, and I hadn't actually reached for the grave or used my power, but darkness still swam over my vision. I dug the gla.s.ses I often needed after the ritual from my bag and blinked, giving my sight a moment to adjust. It did, and after a couple of still-rus.h.i.+ng heartbeats, my vision cleared enough that I was confident I'd be able to drive. Then I made my way over the bridge, not exactly running, but just barely not.

The FIB was an official law enforcement ent.i.ty-I probably should have waited to see if the agent's backup would arrive. There would definitely be questions about what I was doing out in the middle of nowhere with a person of interest in a homicide case. I'm not fleeing the scene, I told myself, but I was. And I knew it.

I'd just crossed the bridge when I noticed the shadow leaning against my car. I stopped short, squinting to make out the figure. I groaned and started walking again when I finally recognized the woman.

"Agent Nori," I said as I approached.

"Miss Craft. You have a tendency to show up where you shouldn't." She flashed some teeth. "It seems you found the fae who was hara.s.sing you."

I twisted the strap of my purse in my hands as I focused on her nose, not her eyes. "I was mistaken about his involvement."

"I see." She drew the word out so it had multiple syllables. "Be that as it may, he's still wanted for questioning in an open case. If you encounter him again, give me a call." She pressed a card into my hand. "And, Miss Craft, let me give you a little friendly advice. Those who don't have loyalty to a court don't have loyalty to anyone. Be careful with whom you a.s.sociate."

"Right." I slid into my car and got the h.e.l.l out of there, silently wis.h.i.+ng luck to Malik as I drove away.

Chapter 7.

I called Caleb on my way to the Magic Quarter to meet Rianna, but he didn't answer his cell. I didn't like the idea of walking into the Bloom alone, but Tamara was working late and I wasn't going to call Holly. That left me with only one other person.

"Thanks for meeting me here," I said as Roy popped into existence in the pa.s.senger seat of my car. A ghost for backup in Faerie probably wasn't much backup at all, but he was the best I had. If nothing else, at least he was a second pair of eyes.

"Hey, no problem. It's not like I have a lot of better prospects to haunt," he said, folding his hands behind his head. "So, what's on the agenda? A little breaking and entering? Some undercover work? Or just a little good old spying?"

I pulled into a metered spot a couple of blocks from the Bloom-that was as close a parking spot as I could find. "Actually we're going to meet with an old friend of mine." I paused, my hand still on the stick s.h.i.+ft. There was an issue with bringing Roy along that I hadn't thought of before now. "I'm meeting Rianna."

Roy's hands fell and his face screwed up tight. "Tell me you're going to manifest me."

"Uh, no." By "manifest," Roy meant he wanted me to pump him with enough energy to make him physical in the land of the living. The first time I'd done it he'd punched Rianna. At the time that had been a good thing, as she'd still been under Coleman's control and on the opposite side, but Roy had deeper reasons to hate Rianna-she'd been involved in his death. Unwilling though she might have been, Roy was having a hard time forgiving his murderer. I guess I couldn't blame him. "Try to play nice," I said, giving him a pleading smile.

His fists balled by his side, but after a moment he gave me a sharp nod. "Fine." He stood-straight through my car, which was rather disturbing-and walked to the sidewalk.

I hurried to catch up.

He sulked as we walked to the Eternal Bloom, his shoulders slumped and his gaze down. After two attempts to start a conversation with him-which both received only noncommittal sounds in response-I didn't bother trying to converse with someone that no one else on the street could see. I would make it up to him later. Maybe I'd buy him some Legos-the little blocks were light enough for him to pick up if he concentrated. Roy floated through the main door when we reached the Bloom. I, on the other hand, had to pull it open.

"Hullo, la.s.s. Welcome to the Eternal Bloom," the bouncer, a red-bearded man perched on the stool in the entry said, his accent thick. "Check all iron items here, and do'na forget to sign the ledger."

"No iron," I said, pulling a pen from my purse.

The entry wasn't large, just a short room with enough s.p.a.ce for the bouncer, his stool, and the pedestal with the ledger balanced on top. I saw only one door, but I knew there was another one not accessible to the majority of the bar's clientele.

As I stepped up to the pedestal and ledger, the short man stood on his stool. Even with the stool's height, he only reached my chin, but he peered around my shoulder, watching me write my name, and most important, the date and time. I wrote as legibly as possible. I was about to step into a pocket of Faerie-I wanted to make sure I emerged on the same day I entered.

"Ah, a VIP," the bearded bouncer said once I put my pen away. He puffed on the pipe clenched between his teeth and then blew a smoke ring in the air. The sweet, tobaccoscented smoke stung my eyes and tickled my chest. I coughed, waving a hand in front of my face to clear the air. When I blinked away the moisture in my eyes, I found two doors along the back wall where there had been only one before.

The little man smiled around his pipe. "Enjoy your visit, la.s.s."

"Right. Thank-" I stopped myself before I thanked the man. Hitching my purse higher on my shoulder, I glanced back at Roy. "Coming?"

"Yeah, right behind you," he said, but he was staring at the newly appeared door, a frown etched hard in his s.h.i.+mmering face.

Maybe I'll owe him more than Legos for backing me up in there.

I jerked open the door and then hesitated. Roy wasn't following.

"We won't be long," I promised.

The ghost bit his lower lip. "I can't go."

Okay, that was a little much. I knew he was mad at Rianna, I got it, but he'd said he'd back me up. He must have seen my thoughts on my face because he shook his head.

"It's not . . . her. It's the door. It feels wrong. Definitely not safe."

I stepped back into the entry, letting the door swing shut, and studied it. Safe? Well, I wouldn't describe Faerie as safe for anyone, but the fact that he said it felt wrong did concern me. The door was some sort of portal to another place-it might not be safe for Roy. h.e.l.l, it might not be safe for me. But that was another story.

I thought back. I'd seen a ghost, or at least a spirit, in the Bloom before. Well, actually I'd sort of created a ghost when I'd jerked the spirit from a dead, animated body of a slaver's pet grave witch. "I've seen ghosts in there," I told Roy, leaving off the rest of the story.

"Yeah, but did the ghost leave?" He stepped back, farther from the door. "It feels like a cemetery gate."

That wasn't good. Cemetery gates kept ghosts-and other, rarer forms of the dead-locked inside. Even newer cemeteries typically had a ghost or two, the older ones many more, though the ghosts rarely started their spirit-life in the graveyard. Like some sort of spirit roach motel, the ghosts could enter the cemetery, but they couldn't leave. While Roy might get annoying once in a while, I definitely didn't want to get him stuck in Faerie.

"Okay, stay here," I said, and realized the bouncer was studying me, his bushy red eyebrows drawn together and his pipe in his hand.