Bronze Gods (20 page)

Mikani smiled. “You’ll have to tell me about that another time. I’ve a couple of teapots at home that have all sorts of historical significance, I’d wager. Shall we do some research, then?”

She couldn’t remember feeling more astonished. “You . . . want to go poke through old books with me?”

“I figured I could charm the information out of librarians, but your idea does have a certain attraction. We can read sweet descriptions of historical buttons to each other and make an evening of it.”

Bronze gods, that tone. I’ve heard him use it on his women. Please don’t let me be blushing. I doubt he’d ever let me forget the infamy.

“That’s not what I meant. You’ve teased me endlessly about my affinity for the tedious aspects of our work. Now you admit it’s . . . useful?” She fought a smile.

“You’ve a knack for it. And . . . well, you’ve shown me that it pays off, sometimes.” He scratched the side of his neck. “And I’m tired of running around without you.”

Without another word, because she didn’t know if she
could
speak, Ritsuko advised the junior officer to forward any replies to the city archive. Perhaps she was wrong, but that had sounded like a convoluted way of saying
I miss you
. These days, Mikani made it difficult to see him as only a lighthearted rogue.

After a ten-minute walk, they arrived at the city archive, a gorgeous stone building that Ritsuko had always loved. Stark white walls towered above them, a clean facade punctuated by three narrow bas-reliefs depicting the history of the Isles from the earliest records to the present day. Every few years, a team of artists carved a new panel, adding it to the frieze. The bronze dome crowning the archives shone in the afternoon light, casting a golden glow on the nearest Council buildings.

This place was the one reason her grandfather ever left the seclusion of the Mountain District. She remembered the joy and anticipation she’d felt before each trip, as if they prepared for a long voyage. He used to pack a flask of tea, a packet of biscuits, and they ate them in the park while paging through their reading material. She’d loved the bustle of the city, the electric mix of so many different faces and skin tones instead of so much homogeneity. As a child, she’d only ever felt free during those outings.

Without understanding why, she told Mikani as much. “When I was a little girl, we came here once a month. Later, my grandfather blamed the archive for my desire to leave the Mountain. He said if he’d never taught me to read and speak the common tongue, I’d have been content in my role.”

“I don’t think that’d have made much of a difference. You’re far too smart to be content in a cage, partner.” Here, he hesitated, cutting her a considering look through the tangle of his lashes. In combination with his unshaven jaw and the blue glint of his eyes, she had to strangle a frisson of . . . well.
Stop it.
“So . . . how
did
he end up raising you?”

A personal question. From Mikani.

It was silly, but her heart actually skipped a beat. She wondered if he knew these things about his women, or if there were no questions asked, no answers given.

It was a pleasure to reply, “I was two when they died. There was an epidemic . . . a fever, I’m told. When my parents fell ill, they sent me to my grandfather, who lived on the other side of the district. I . . . never went home.”

He stopped and turned toward her, seeming concerned. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t even remember them.” She dismissed the faint discomfort she read in his furrowed brow, climbing the steps toward the archive. “What about you? You don’t talk about your family.”

He followed closely. “Boring, really. Mother lives up north, helping my sisters care for their broods. Five and counting, last I heard, between Helena and Daphne. I see them now and then.” He was silent for a few seconds. “Dad served the Olriks. House Guard. Went after some pirates out west and didn’t come back. I’m half-convinced he found a pretty island girl, and I’ve a little clan of half siblings running around.”

“You have sisters,” she said, fascinated. “Are they older, younger? Five nieces and nephews? How many of each?”

She’d never pictured him coming from a large family, never thought about it much at all. If anyone had asked, prior to this, she might’ve even speculated that he’d sprung fully formed from a bottle of whiskey. The hint of pain when he spoke of his father—well, she thought it best to pretend she didn’t see it. Annoy him with the questions instead.

“I told you, boring,” he muttered, as they reached the research offices. “Helena’s older by a full minute. Or so she claims—”

“You have a twin,” she exclaimed, delighted. “Does she look like you?”

He scoffed. “I’m the handsome one.”

“I’m sure.” She kept her tone neutral, aware his self-opinion didn’t need padding.

Ritsuko led the way toward the shelves she had haunted for the last few days. The librarian recognized her and lifted a hand in greeting as she passed. A few patrons did as well, but they only smiled, as she’d come here long before she needed to research a case. This place felt like home.

“And Daphne?” she prompted, as she settled her things on a polished table.

“The baby of the Mikanis, spoiled like her little monsters. Four nieces and a nephew, but only one of them takes after their uncle. Rest of them will grow up to be hardworking, decent artisans and smiths, no doubt.”

“You may not be part of a crafting guild, but you’re hardworking and decent.” The words came out fiercer and more heartfelt than she intended.

He arched a brow. “Why, partner, I’d almost think you approve of my lax ways.”

“I may not think everything you do is advisable, but you’re a good man.”
Time to step away from the sincerity.
So she added, “One nephew? Please tell me his name is Janus. I think I speak for the whole CID when I say, we’d
love
a miniature of tiny Janus in short pants.” She laid a finger against her cheek, feigning innocence. “I should write your sister. I bet she’d send me one.”

“It’s a traditional name, I’ll have you know.” He started pulling books at random from the nearby shelves. “And, I already have one such at home.”

She laughed and fetched the volumes she had been using, then she stopped to ask the librarian for some guidance on texts that dealt with antique buttons. The man seemed surprised, but a few minutes later, he delivered a hefty stack for them to sort through. Serious now, Ritsuko divided up the stack. Mikani eyed his share as if it were a coiled snake about to bite him.

We have our work cut out for us.

They read in silence for over an hour before the courier came.

Mikani took the envelope, cracked it open, and offered a sharp smile. “I hope you aren’t too enthralled here because we have something more exciting to do.”

CHAPTER 19

T
HE
A
LSTON
S
HIPPING
C
OMPANY WAS A FAMILY CONCERN, PRIVATELY OWNED AND OPERATED.
They had offices down by South Bay docks, not far from the Port Authority, where ships bearing both goods and passengers required clearance. A brisk breeze blew in from the sea, carrying tinges of fish and salt, along with a powerful chill. The long days were coming to an end; night fell faster as the cold came on, so Mikani quickened his step accordingly. Businesses tended not to stay open down here after dark.

The office offered no elegance, just a weathered-brick facade with sagging peaked roofs. Inside, workers hurried between piled crates and barrels, maddened by the influx of new business, likely driven by Summer Clan blockades. While the embargo was terrible for merchants, it appeared to be good for local transport, as the sea routes were booming, and the docks were overwhelmed with shipments. Mikani led Ritsuko through the maze of supplies, up an open staircase to the first floor, where the managers worked. There were three offices; he chose the largest one. No point in wasting time on underlings.

The door was ajar, saving him the pretense of politeness. He stepped into the well-appointed room: large desk set before a window, a wall full of shelves and cupboards, two chairs, and a table with various documents strewn across it. A fortyish gentleman glanced up from the papers, a frown knitting his brows.

“Can I help you?” By his irritated expression, Mikani guessed the other man felt someone ought to have stopped them before they got this far.

“Mr. Alston?” He smiled and produced his credentials.

“Yes, what do you need?” Alston’s tone became less impatient, however, when he registered the significance of the proffered badge.

“A moment of your time. And the full manifest of your shipments for Edgehill Metalworking and Foundry over the last two months if you’d be so kind.”

Mr. Alston worked his jaw in a manner that suggested he was already out of patience. “You don’t need my personal supervision for this.” He scrawled a note on a blank sheet of paper and handed it to Mikani. “Take this to my clerk, two doors down. He can help you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Ritsuko said.

“That was too easy,” Mikani commented, as they retraced their steps to the smaller office.

In here the carpet was threadbare, the shelves made of unfinished wood, and the man staring at them across the desk wore the thickest glasses Mikani had ever seen. But the clerk perked at the sight of Ritsuko, as if he’d never seen a woman before. He stumbled to his feet, banging against the chair, and came around to offer his hand.

“Here’s the real gauntlet,” she whispered.

“I beg your pardon?” the clerk said.

Ritsuko offered a smile, then her badge. “Never mind. Mikani, you have the writ from Mr. Alston.”

He suppressed a smirk and handed the clerk the note. “Your employer said you could help us with this.”

The clerk scanned the document and nodded to the point that it seemed likely his spectacles might fall off. “Let me just get the ledgers.”

His eagerness to please resulted in a quick return, at least. The clerk seemed quite proud of the hefty tomes he handed over. But the records requested were written in a tiny, spidery script in columns that might make Mikani go blind. He gave one of the books to Ritsuko, who arched a brow at him.

“
This
is supposed to be more exciting than the archives?”

He laid claim to the nearest desk in the clerk’s office, scanning the entries. Each page was devoted to a separate cargo, row after row of minutiae clearly labeled, weighed, and counted. He shook his head and examined the nearly indecipherable writing for mentions of polished brass mirrors and cylinders of the right dimensions. It took nearly two hours of exhaustive searching, but by the time the clerk packed up his briefcase in an unmistakable cue—the man was no longer so enamored with Ritsuko’s mere existence—they had an address.

“This is where they took the matching order,” Ritsuko said, standing. She arched her back, then rolled her head side to side, presumably to work out the stiffness. “Thanks for your time,” she added to the clerk.

Mikani stretched and jotted down the address. Then something on the ledger caught his eye. “Ritsuko, Toombs’s mother mentioned he was deep in debt, yes?”

She nodded. “Something about those theater people with their whoring, gambling, and drinking. She wasn’t amused.”

“Then how could he afford all this? From the value listed for insurance, seems that the brass and copper components alone cost a small fortune.”

Before Ritsuko could reply, the clerk put in, “Sir, I don’t mean to trouble you, but I need to lock up.”

Mikani took the hint, and they left, heading down the stairs in silence while Ritsuko clearly mulled his question. He could tell she was thinking by the neat furrow between her brows and the way she quirked her mouth to the side, then bit her lip. Outside the shipping offices, it was nearly dark, a sky full of emerging stars.

“Either he borrowed the money for . . . this. Or he has a patron,” she offered.

Mikani nodded, thinking it over. “There’s one more thing, partner. The manifest listed several other items. He’s definitely building another device.”

“That tracks with what you sensed at Miss Bihár’s flat. The third victim.”

He smiled at Ritsuko. “We need to find out if he’s alone in this.”

“I think we should check out the address where they sent his goods. If he’s there, our search is over. If not, perhaps we learn something that will help us find him.” She curled one hand into a fist. “I hate that he has the whole city to hide in.”

“Look at the bright side. Between the constables, the Free Traders, and the Summer Clan, he’s stuck in the city. Hells, he’s probably unable to leave whatever hole he’s burrowed into for fear someone will spot him and turn him over to Bihár. So let’s go smoke him out.”

“Did you see that House Aevar has posted a bounty on his head? A thousand talons for his capture, alive or dead.” She moved toward the cruiser, parked some distance away.

“Really?” He paused by the vehicle. “You know, that would easily buy us a small place in the far south.” He watched her expression change before flashing her a grin. “Kidding. I’d gladly hand him over to Bihár, then to Aevar, for free.”

Mikani slid into the driver’s seat, and she settled next to him. As he started the vehicle, she said, “Oh, that’s not what I was thinking at all.”

“Enlighten me.”

Her smile was positively mischievous, not a look he’d ever before associated with Ritsuko. “I wasn’t sure if you realized you just suggested we move in together.”

His eyes widened. “I don’t do windows.” He gave her a sideways glance, trying to gauge her mood.

“You cook. I’ll clean. That seems fair.” She wasn’t looking at him, her face in profile, so he couldn’t be sure if she was teasing. But even if he could see her eyes, he might not be able to tell, as she had a fairly effective poker face when required.
Gods and spirits, is she serious? This is
Ritsuko
. Why am I not
more
worried?

“Fishing. Farming a little. Maybe some arts and crafts.” He glanced over at her briefly. “We’d drive each other insane in two days. Tops.”

She laughed. “Relax, Mikani. I
am
moving, but not into your cottage.”

Damned be. Can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. What’s gotten into me?

“Oh, so you think we need a bigger place? Gods and spirits, woman, at least wait until we have the reward.” He turned his attention to the road.

“There is no satisfying me.” Her words were spoken lightly, but the tone struck him as a challenge.

It was an hour and a half’s drive to their destination, fifteen minutes added for quarrels in the street. Once, Mikani climbed out of the cruiser and broke up a fight. Ten more minutes passed while he argued with the Summer Clan trying to stop traffic inside the city as well. The bravos were all spoiling for a fight, darkly brooding, and it wouldn’t take much to provoke one. The House Guards were equally prone to whipping out their weapons, as they must be feeling the pressure from above. Part of him was glad Electra’s death hadn’t gone unnoticed—that her loss hadn’t been swept beneath the rug—but he couldn’t let the nomads drive the entire city into chaos as they seemed inclined to do.

When he got in the vehicle, Ritsuko was smiling. “I swear you thrive on this.”

“You’ve heard Gunwood. I live for trouble.” He studied the road up ahead, then added, “We’re close now.”

•   •   •

R
ARELY HAD
R
ITSUKO
traveled beyond the city limits. Her grandfather hadn’t liked the countryside, too full of spirits, he said, though she had never sensed anything amiss. Out here, the stars gleamed brighter away from the competing gaslight. But it was also equally quiet, no hansoms, no people going about their lives. There was only the whisper of the wind in the trees and the crunch of the cruiser’s wheels against the rocky road leading down to a ramshackle farm that appeared abandoned. She saw no lights anyway.

Mikani parked. “Well, if I intended to build a death machine, this would be the place for it.”

“Let’s check it out.” She swung out of the vehicle and checked her weapon. Usually, it was her credentials, but she suspected the gun would prove more useful.

“He’s been here.” Mikani looked around, his head tilted. “There’s that sense of decay all around. Faint, though.” He patted his side pocket, presumably to ensure his revolver was there, then he hefted his walking stick.

“You can tell that, all the way out here?” She shivered, fearing what the decrepit building held in store.

He made his way toward the farmhouse. “You know, when you cook a dish often enough, how the smell just permeates the kitchen for days? It’s like that. He did . . . whatever it is he does in here so often that the stench is ingrained in the air now.”

“I don’t, actually. I rarely cook. But I’ll take your word for it.”

Ritsuko picked a path across the moonlit yard, drawing her weapon as a precaution. The bantering mood left her, replaced by a fierce determination. At Dinwiddie’s flat, they’d stumbled onto Toombs unaware, but that wouldn’t happen again. If the maniac was hiding here, perhaps he had a way in and out of the city, avoiding the checkpoints and barricades. It would explain why nobody had caught him yet.

With Mikani’s comforting presence at her back, she crossed to the farmhouse door, which was locked. It didn’t appear to be particularly well made, however. She gave him some room, gesturing. “Have at it.”

He mock-bowed to her, then slammed a kick just below the handle. The inner frame shattered, and he grabbed the door when it swung back. “Easy does it.” He led the way into the dark house.

The place smelled musty, hints of mold and mildew that indicated a leak in the roof. There was also a trace of decay, an animal stench, as if something had crawled inside and died. But that was an old scent, not fresh like a newly rotten corpse. Ritsuko hated that she knew the difference. As she went farther into the house, her eyes adjusted to the gloom, so she made out a platter of meat, crawling with maggots.

Mikani peered through the two other doorways. “Living room, in worse shape than the kitchen. A storage cupboard. If he lives here, he’s got a thing for squalor. Upstairs?”

“I can hardly wait.”

Tension clamped down on her spine as she went up the stairs, watching Mikani’s back. He gripped his sidearm, surveying the blind spots before swinging up the rest of the way. From within the walls came scrabbling noises, claws, perhaps, or wings.
Bats? Rats? Both, probably.

He paused at the top of the stairs. “I’ll check left, then right.”

“Just search the second bedroom. I’ve got the other.”

Ritsuko didn’t think there was anybody home. They hadn’t been quiet in breaking down the door; nor did either of them tread up the stairs like ghosts. Some of her fear scaled back, leaving her more or less clearheaded and prepared to investigate.

He cut her a look, but he didn’t argue, merely went along to the bedroom farthest from the stairs. She shoved the door before her open with the heel of her sturdy boot. Within, it was dark, and the smell of decay wafted stronger.
Bronze gods, I don’t think it was the meat after all.

Her heart in her throat, she crept into the room, weapon clenched between both palms. But there was no movement, no sign of life. She skimmed the space in a single glance, taking in the pitiful mounds beneath the tattered blankets. Ritsuko took two more steps to confirm her suspicions.

“Mikani!” She pitched her voice only loud enough to carry. “Two bodies in here.”

He was at her side in a heartbeat. “They’ve been here awhile.”

Even in the dim moonlight, she saw how desiccated the skin was, sunken back into their cheeks. The hands curled like claws; their limbs were skeletal. Here and there, she saw places where scavengers, carrion-eaters, had gnawed. It was impossible for her to guess how old these people might’ve been, but by their presence in the same bed—