Dirty Little Misery (Miss Misery) (16 page)

I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and grabbed my phone, thinking I’d check my email before heading to the kitchen. The phone rang in my hand, startling me. It was Bridget. Warily, I answered because there could be no good reason why Bridget was calling me on a Sunday before noon.

“Hi, Jess.” She sounded beat. “I figured I’d give you a heads-up before you saw what happened on the news. Victor Aubrey is dead.”

I grasped the cheap guestroom bureau for support. “What? When?”

“Last night. He was murdered. Keep it to yourself for now because we don’t know anything official, but it’s looking like you were right. We’ve found traces of fury magic in the guards who did it, but we have no idea how it could have happened yet.”

I took a deep breath, wishing my stomach would settle. “Great.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t expect anyone’s going to be torn up about it, least of all you. But he was our strongest lead on finding the furies responsible.”

I nodded dully, as if she could hear my brain rattling. “Yeah, I know. This sucks.”

In so many, many ways.

When Bridget hung up, I flopped back on the bed, no longer in the mood for pancakes and bacon. Possibly my best hope for finding out more about myself was dead, as was the Gryphons’ chance to bring justice down on the furies.

No wonder they’d taken out Victor, but how was I supposed to get my answers now?

Chapter Sixteen

I drove back to Boston in a bad mood and stayed that way over the next couple days. Without Victor, there would be no trial and no closure for the families of the victims. All the work Bridget and others had accomplished was for nothing. I wasn’t the only one frustrated by far. Every time I entered the Gryphon’s building, the power of everyone’s unhappiness was overwhelming.

I held tight to my one consolation—without a trial, I wouldn’t have to take the witness stand. All the secrets I’d dreaded being exposed on national news would be safe. They weren’t exactly secret anymore since the Gryphons knew most of them, but at least there’d be no talking head on CNN discussing whether my gift’s similarities to Victor’s meant I should be preemptively locked up. And my mother could continue getting a few hours of sleep each night, blissfully unaware of all the nastiness I’d been keeping from her.

But my ordeal wasn’t over yet. Since I’d told Bridget that the furies were up to something, I was grilled repeatedly about it. Who was the fury who’d warned me? How did I know him? What did he look like? Could I come with a team to Shadowtown to find him?

I took them to the bar where I’d twice run into Mace-head, but he wasn’t there.

To make matters more irritating, without Victor around, I was considered the next best lead for finding the fury responsible for addicting Victor and turning him into their pawn. Based on what Mace-head had told me, I figured it was a futile effort. Red-eye was likely dead.

That suggested the furies’ Dom knew what Red-eye had been up to, but good luck to the Gryphons getting that information out of him. Raj looked like a SyFy channel version of the devil, and I had no doubt his forked tongue spewed lies every bit as smoothly as the devil was alleged to do. Charms could encourage truth-telling in humans, but using magic on preds was something else entirely. Possible, but sure not as easy.

Nevertheless, it didn’t stop everyone from hounding me with questions about the furies, and every one of these interviews took place in the presence of Tom Kassin. He rarely asked questions, but he took copious notes, and I didn’t appreciate the way he looked at me. As soon as I had the chance, he was the next person I wanted to investigate. I just hoped he didn’t end up dead afterward like Victor.

And then there was the actual case I was supposed to be working on.

A familiar pattern of knocks on my cube wall had me bolting upright. “Hey.”

Andre laughed. “You could use some sleep.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“It’s seven o’clock, and Bridget has left the building, so I don’t think you’re going to be further interrogated about Aubrey today. How about, instead, you start with dinner, then you go home and get that sleep? There’s a pizza place not far from here, lots of beer on tap. Good company?” His smile was hopelessly endearing.

I double-checked the time. Getting out of here didn’t sound like a bad plan. But with Andre?

Well, why not? I’d rationalized this all before. My relationship with Lucen was doomed to failure. As I got more deeply involved in the F case, that became clear. It would be nice to try for a normal one. Visiting my mother had made
that
clear. In fact, maybe this was why the normality of her life in New Hampshire bugged me—it was a reminder of everything I always thought I couldn’t have.

But everything was changing. Besides, it wasn’t like Lucen could get upset about me going to dinner with a coworker when he had a handful of other people he had to screw on a regular basis.

I returned Andre’s smile. “Pizza, beer and company sounds good to me.”

My workload didn’t relent the next day, but I was in a better mood. Andre and I had hung out at the pizza place for several hours, talking about subjects other than work and watching the Sox game. I wasn’t sure if the experience counted as a date or simply two people getting food together, but it was fun. I rarely did things like that with anyone besides Steph.

When I asked myself if I wanted it to be a date, I wasn’t sure.

My phone rang as I walked up the massive stone steps to Gryphon Headquarters, cutting off these thoughts. The number calling me was unfamiliar. “Hello?”

“Is this Jessica? This is Ben, from the computer store.”

“Oh!” Surprise left me exceedingly articulate. “Hold on a sec.”

Ever since word about Victor’s death broke, the building had been packed. Even four days later, there was a news van out front, for what purpose I couldn’t imagine. It wasn’t as though there was anything to update people on.

I edged away from the crowded stairs and stood in the shadow of one of the granite gryphon statues out front. “You have news?”

“Sort of. This is some real world-class encryption here, I gotta say.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” It was the Gryphons. I’d have been horrified if their files were easy to break into.

Ben coughed. “Me neither, but it means it’s taking me a bit. But I’m determined, and I had a small breakthrough the other day. I’m not in the files exactly, but I got some information to send you. It’s not in English, so I have no idea what it says.”

I frowned. “Not in English? Okay, yeah. Go ahead and send. Thanks.”

“Coming now. It’s a screenshot. There’s a bunch of technical stuff I can explain later if you want.”

“Right, thanks.” I hung up, and Ben’s message arrived a second after.

I covered the screen with my hand as I opened the photo. Even in the shade it was difficult to read the text with the late-morning sun overhead.

Ben wasn’t kidding about the technical crap, but Steph could probably explain what all those numbers and abbreviations meant. What concerned me was the non-English phrase. My eyes homed in on it, and my blood went cold in spite of the heat. That much, I didn’t need someone to translate.

Le Confrérie de l’Aile.
The Brotherhood of the Wing.

Actually, the entire phrase read:
These files are the property of the Brotherhood of the Wing.
But it was only the last phrase that had my attention. This was the group Tom belonged to.

Suddenly, every question he’d asked me and every meeting he’d sat in on over the last few days took on a far more sinister overtone. I didn’t like him and had been meaning to pry into his life ever since he’d attempted to pry into mine. The time had come to put that plan into action.

Victor might be dead, but my search for answers was on.

One of the biggest perks about consulting for the Gryphons was access to their private library. If I was going to learn more about this mysterious Brotherhood, that was the place to start.

The library wasn’t contained in a large space, nor was it a large collection, but it had books on Gryphon history unavailable elsewhere. I got straight to work, assuming I might be here a while.

After an hour of fruitless searching, that didn’t look so likely anymore. There was no librarian around, so I was on my own for research, and so far I’d found only two references to the Brotherhood—or
le Confrérie
, since I searched for it in both languages.

The one reference was extremely cryptic and not helpful. The second reference explained it was a private, invitation-only group within the Gryphons that had existed in one form or another since the eighteenth century. Although it was called the Brotherhood, women had started being admitted in the mid-nineteen hundreds as they rose to positions of power within the Gryphons.

And there my quest ended. Or should have.

I put the last book away and swore. Tom had lots of books in his office, and although I wasn’t averse to snooping, that couldn’t happen until he left for the day. Which left me hanging in the meantime, unless…

I bounded out of the room, struck by an idea. I might not have a librarian here who could help, but I knew a librarian who considered himself an expert on, well, basically everything. And if he didn’t know something, he took pride in knowing where to find out.

Twenty minutes later I stood in front of The Feathers’ branch of the Boston Public Library. Like Shadowtown was pred territory, The Feathers was magi territory. In this neighborhood, the bird shifters outnumbered humans, and the shops, restaurants and housing catered to them with foul-sounding food and apartments that boasted of their private rooftop perches rather than, say, their laundry facilities.

Unlike preds, however, magi were friendly. Or most of them were. I’d had a run-in with a politically powerful magi not too long ago whose wings I wouldn’t mind clipping for being an asshole. In general, however, I certainly didn’t mind magi, and magi didn’t mind Gryphons. The groups’ alliance went way back, a fact I was counting on.

Pleased I wore practical boots instead of sandals today, I dodged a suspicious puddle on the sidewalk and entered the library. The AC blast hit hard. I wrapped my arms around myself, passing the checkout desk and the rows of computers, and hoping Olef was working so I hadn’t made the trip for nothing.

I found him near the children’s section, pushing a cart of returned books.

“Ms. Moore.” His owlish ears perked up in greeting. “What a nice surprise. I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. Are you on Gryphon business?”

“Wow, news travels fast. But no, I’m not.” I sucked on my lip, rethinking the truthfulness of that statement. “Actually, I am. Sort of, I suppose.”

“Sort of?”

“It is about the Gryphons, but it’s not official Gryphon business. I have a history question and was hoping you might be able to help.”

Olef gestured to an empty table by a window, and I sat across from him. “What do you need to know?”

“I was wondering if you’d ever heard of a group within the Gryphons known as the Brotherhood of the Wing or
Le Confrérie de l’Aile
?”

The white feathers around Olef’s eyes constricted, and he thought for a while. Finally, he raised his four-fingered hands in defeat. “I’m afraid that’s not an organization I’ve come across. You have a record of stumping me, Ms. Moore. It bothers me greatly.”

“Sorry.” He looked put out, so I hid my own disappointment. I’d been certain that if anyone would know something, it would be Olef.

“It’s not your fault. It’s my failing.” Olef pulled a pen from the pocket of his tweed jacket and grabbed a piece of scrap paper from the table. “Would you spell the French for me? I’ll do some research for you if I may.”

“I’d appreciate it.” I wrote the name, in English and in French, and added my cell number.

Olef tucked the paper in his pocket. “Do you mind if I ask what spurred your curiosity?”

“There’s a new guy in town who’s a member, and he was sent here to investigate the furies and the stuff with Victor Aubrey. I’m being nosy.”

Olef’s feathers ruffled at Victor’s name. “Awful what happened with Aubrey. Such a lack of closure for everyone.”

“That it is.” And much more. “Thanks, Olef.”

“Of course. And, Ms. Moore, do be careful.”

For the second time today, I got the chills. The last time I’d heard those words from Olef, bad shit had followed soon after. “Why?”

He smoothed his jacket nervously. “You remember that vision I told you about?”

“The one about the purple smoke and the salamander fires? Yeah, not likely to forget.” Olef had shared that lovely scenario with me during the hunt for Victor.

“I might have been mistaken in my interpretation.” He frowned. Mistake was a dirty word to Olef.

Yet I didn’t understand. “How could you have been mistaken? It came true. The furies set salamander fires on the city.”

“I thought so too, at the time. But once an event occurs, a vision should pass. This one hasn’t, suggesting what I saw was unrelated to the fires here. That it’s still to come, and more.”

I rubbed my cold bare arms. “More?”

“It’s not only Boston I see these days. It’s many cities. I couldn’t tell you which ones, but several. In the middle of them all…” His brown eyes were apologetic. “In the middle of them all, I see you. Somehow, I am quite certain you will be at the center of whatever will happen.”

I gaped at him, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. Magi visions weren’t to be taken lightly, and for once I couldn’t summon a sarcastic response.

I returned to Lucen’s a few hours later to fret about Olef and plan my attack on Tom. I was determined to break into his office tonight, but I wanted to be smart about it. Quick, efficient and productive. And uncaught—that most of all.

Tom frequently hung around the building until eight in the evening, so I had one or more hours to kill before I made my move. I debated taking a nap, but there was no way my eyes would shut. I was wired on adrenaline and nerves, and fairly sure a good chunk of those had to do with my conversation with Olef.

So instead, I sent Steph the screenshot Ben had sent me, along with a message asking her to explain what the gobbledygook it included meant in non-geek speak. She called me a few minutes later to oblige. But although Steph’s explanation was clear, she was convinced that nothing there was of use to me. Since I didn’t know enough to argue, I took her at her word and explained to her what I found out about the Brotherhood.

“So this secret fraternity created the files on you and Victor?”

I stretched out on the sofa, watching Sweetpea sharpen his claws on the stones in his cage. Why on earth Lucen aided this habit of his, I couldn’t imagine. Who needed a more dangerous dragon? “Looks like it.”

“I’ve seen this movie, Jess. Nothing good ever comes of people who go after secret societies. Why don’t you wait until Ben gets in the files before making a move?”

“Because I’m impatient, frustrated, angry, curious—take your pick?”

Steph made a
tsk
noise. “Just don’t add ‘dead’ to that list. You owe me too many favors, and it would be just like you to croak before I can to collect.”

“You are the best friend a girl could ever want. You know that?”

“Don’t trifle with my emotions, bitch. I heard too much sarcasm in there.”

I laughed, and Lucen entered the living room as I hung up the phone.

“This is the third day in a row you haven’t stopped at The Lair when you got home. I’ve barely seen you since last Thursday—a whole week. That’s impressive since you’re living out of my spare bedroom. Have you developed an aversion to alcohol or to me?” His tone was light, but the expression on his face wasn’t. Naturally, the latter was what I reacted to, and I tensed.