Undeniable (The Druids Book 1) (6 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Something about spending time with her patron always renewed her, more than just the refreshment of the Touch that cleared her head and gave her purpose. Knowing that he believed in her, trusted her, needed her to do her job, and gave her the desire to do her best. The fey depended on Lugh. She did, too. But Lugh depended on her. It was symbiotic. It was the real meaning of being a druidess.

So with fresh coffee bracing her, a delicious breakfast set beside her laptop at her favorite cafe, and the light of a brand new day streaming through the window, she got down to business.

As the laptop booted up, London checked her phone. No texts or messages from Selena. Time to get some answers for herself. London logged into her instant messenger, and then opened a chat window with Reggie. For a werewolf, Reggie was a really good guy. She couldn’t take him to dinner any more, for payment of services rendered, not with the fey scent all over her and embedded with that magic within her skin. She’d been around werewolves in the past, since being enchanted, and it could be a hit or miss proposition. Not wanting things to turn uncomfortable, or dangerous, between them, this seemed like the safer route.

She typed into the messenger,
Hey fur-face, got a minute and some hacker mojo you can spare?

While she waited for a reply, London slathered the jam onto her biscuit and took a contemplative bite. The early sunlight through the cafe window glared on the screen, so she tilted it to a better angle. As she was adjusting the screen, the icon for Riley blinked on, indicating that he’d just signed in. It was just a minute more before his instant messenger window popped up on her screen.
Guess what?

She typed back,
What?

I killed my first werewolf.

Just then, Reggie’s messenger window flashed with his response. London was glad she wasn’t in a chat room where they could see each other’s replies. That would be seriously awkward.

London replied to Riley first,
How’d that come about?

Then she switched windows to read Reggie’s message. He’d said,
You just love me for my skills with a keyboard, but my hands are good at other things.

She snorted out loud, and then typed back,
Flirt. Sorry babe, I’m not interested in having your puppies. But I could use some help tracking down a vampire. I know how much you love them.
Which she well knew was not at all.

Riley’s window flashed and London left it blinking for a moment while she ate a few more bites. Reggie replied before she could switch over.
What vampire? And can I help you hunt him?

She typed,
All I know is that his first name is Derek and that he’s over here from the States on some matter for his sire. But he appears to be freelancing, because he’s said there is a bounty on my blood that he intends to collect.

Give me a couple of minutes. I’ll check flight manifests…
Reggie responded, and London figured he’d be a little bit working on that, so she returned to the conversation with Riley.

He was the type that sent multiple messages to convey a thought, especially if he didn’t get a reply straightaway.

So I was checking out some websites, right? And there was this one where it looked like vampires and werewolves have been passing back and forth information on prey, as well as other stuff. A few were looking for fey targets, and someone else gave them a suggestion of where to look.

Me and Joe went to check it out. And bam! A whole pack of werewolves looking for a meal. And me and Joe being the only things anywhere nearby that even smelled half-way like fey.

And Joe said it was a waste of time. Pfft. Whatever. But I proved different, so I’m going to high-five myself. *Gives self a high-five, all dorky-like.* We kicked their bums, and the fey are safer.

London just laughed at the goofiness, as Riley used the asterisks to indicate an action. She returned the IM-speak,
*Pats you on the head.* You were a good boy. *Gives you a cookie.*

Riley returned,
*Gobbles the cookie.* So how about you? Any exciting news?

Reggie’s IM window wasn’t blinking yet, so London continued,
You had werewolves, I was dealing with vampires. Mine didn’t turn out quite so well. Seems I have a bounty on my blood, according to this bloke. I feel special.

Riley replied back quickly.
Does this bloke have a name?

Derek, but I don’t have a last name. I just know he’s from the US.

Riley went quiet, and Reggie still hadn’t gotten back, so London leaned back for a moment, giving her neglected breakfast some attention before it was all cold. Of the two, Reggie replied first.
OK, I have the details. Derek Hunter (probably his stripper name, LOL! I can’t imagine that’s his real one) came in on a private jet from Seattle, and arrived in Shannon a couple of weeks ago. The plane was paid for by a chap named Dante. Now Dante is a really bad dude, into all kinds of nasty trade, mostly of the addictive and paranormal nature. I’m going to have to tread carefully, because as soon as I put out feelers on Dante, I was getting flagged by Interpol’s cyber hounds, and I had to do some fast footwork to get them off my tracks. It does look like Derek’s using a credit card from Dante’s shadow company, so I can probably check for car rentals and hotels, once the heat’s dropped a little.

You are the wolf! *hugs you* Yes, please. I’ll take any information you can dig up on Mr. Nasty.
London couldn’t help but grin.

*Hugs you back* I’ll keep you posted.
Reggie left it at that for now, so London closed out his window, to see what Riley had sent her. His window had just started blinking.

I think your Derek might be on this site!
Riley’s typing icon was showing, so he was actively typing, and London scooted onto the edge of her seat.
There is some chatter about you on one of the posts, and the user’s name is just ‘Hunter’.

That’s him. I just got the confirmation from an informant of mine that he’s going by the last name of ‘Hunter.’
London felt the dual sensations of dread and excitement, as she got more information, but every bit of it was sounding unsettlingly serious.

I don’t know much about his client, but seems to be going by the codename ‘Prince’. The best I can tell, you are wanted alive, so that is a good thing, but it is your blood that ‘Prince’ is after, so that is a less good thing. Want me to keep checking? I’ll have Joe give you a call.

Yes, keep checking. Can you both meet me at the club in Waterford this afternoon?
She checked her watch, gauging the time it would take to drive down from Tiernan’s place near Belfast where they stayed. Of course, they could just ask the ‘Unseelie Kingpin’ to teleport them. He was into the same line of trade as this Dante, by the sounds of it, so maybe he’d know something.

We’ll be there.
Riley assured her.
And London… We’re going to catch this guy. Don’t worry.

Now that you and Joe are on the job, all worries are gone
, she lied.

Chapter Fifteen

Granger tossed down a plastic evidence bag next to Patterson. “Get the blood on that handkerchief analyzed for me.” He dropped into his own office chair and picked up his fountain pen to twirl it between his fingers. “So we found fey body parts, and a bunch of empty cages. Assuming those cages were full of fey, what would that make the people who owned the Brightner Building?”

Patterson swung around in his chair to face Granger. He had that been-up-all-night look about him; tie askew, hair finger-combed into disarray, bags under his eyes. “Not werewolves, that is for certain. They would have torn them to shreds right out of the gate.”

“Right. And we know they weren’t demonic, since there wasn’t residue on the premises.” He tapped the pen into his palm. This fountain pen had belonged to his first partner, and even though Granger seriously hoped that Thomas rested in peace, keeping it handy gave him the sense that somehow he was still around, still offering guidance. “What about wizards? They were known for mutilating the fey.”

Patterson shook his head. “Wizards are more isolated. Solo practitioners. Like serial killers keeping their victims in their basements.” He swiveled side to side, considering. “I’m thinking this has to be vampire-related.”

And there had been a vampire chomping on London like she was a cheeseburger, making noises about there being a price on her blood. Maybe for her part in the Brightner Building incident? “Doesn’t feel vampire, though. No tinting on all those windows. The video showed most of the principal members of the staff coming and going during daylight hours.” And London had said that they weren’t vampires.

“Are we looking at something new moving into the UK? Dionysus has been setting up a presence in the Netherlands. Maybe the Greeks are crossing the North Sea and making an influx here?”

“Why would the Greeks be storing fey body parts? No,” Granger shook his head, “no, the only thing that makes sense is wizards. They used to be organized, ages ago. Maybe they were making a comeback? Some charismatic leader bringing them together after all this time.”

“That’s a bloody disturbing thought,” Patterson said, rubbing his hands over his face. “If that’s true, then we should be just as glad that someone decided to take out the blokes before they could really gear up for trouble.”

Granger tossed the fountain pen into his pen cup, where everyone knew not to mess with it, unless they were in desperate need of a broken wrist. “Come on. I want to comb through the evidence one more time. We should be able to determine if some of that stuff was wizard enchantment.”

As he got up, Patterson grabbed the evidence bag and carried it down to the lab with them. “Wizards… Remember that basement in Bristol? What a nightmare. Someone got to those wizards ahead of us, too.”

“Some fey vigilante, from the blood droplets he left behind.” Granger recalled. “The Brightner Building attack could be the work of the same guy. If London’s account holds true, and there was a rescue mission that day, and if these people did turn out to be wizards…”

“Then we can close this case and go out for a well-deserved pint to salute the bugger.” Before Granger could argue that logic, Patterson pushed open the swinging metal door into the lab and called, “Where’s my girlfriend? Frieda, where are you hiding, luv?”

If Dr. Frieda Livingston had been dressed like a dowager, instead of in a white pair of overalls, she could have been mistaken for Miss Marple. She was twice as clever as the fictitious sleuth and held three more postgraduate degrees. She pulled her lab goggles off and offered her cheek for Patterson’s peck. “You lads bringing me more goodies to play with?”

Patterson presented her with the plastic wrapped handkerchief. “A little blood to analyze, if you please.”

Frieda took the bag from him and looked it over as she carried it to a side bench. Donning some fresh gloves, she asked, “And what do you want to know about the blood? Anything specific?”

“Just verifying if the donor is human or not, and anything else you find.” Granger crossed his arms, to keep from touching any of the surfaces in the lab and contaminating them. Or acquiring any creeping crud that might have infected the place. That time that the hell fungus rash spread through the department was enough to learn that lesson. “And can you check on something for me? Were any of the enchanted items from the wreckage wizard-made?”

“Well, now. One thing at a time,” Frieda tisked as she lowered herself to perch on a cushioned stool. She opened the plastic bag and pulled the fabric out with tweezers. With deft and experienced fingers, she placed the cloth over a dish. Using the fluids from two different bottles, she moistened the cloth until a pale pink tinge colored the fluid in the dish. In a moment she transferred a few drops to a test tube, and tucked the sample into the robotic arm waiting for it. The machine swung the arm inside, slid closed a black, glass screen, and began uttering churning and gushing sounds.

With that in place, she kicked away from that work bench. The smooth wheels of the stool spun as she propelled herself across the lab. “While that is cooking, let’s see about your other question.” Changing to fresh gloves, she began sorting through the contents spread across a glass table. The milky surface was illuminated from below, casting a soft, but efficient light.

Frieda began shifting through the contents of one of the large plastic tubs of evidence. “We’ve only just begun to process these, but some items have a maker’s mark. Like these chisels have clear dwarven ruins cast into the metal of the handles.” She placed those aside.

“With the fey body parts, I am imagining that the fey objects were stolen from their victims.” Granger kept his arms crossed, but leaned over to get a better view. “Look for something not so ornate. Wizards are practical.”

“Anything recovered with a magic signature ended up in these totes,” Frieda gestured to the stack of plastic containers along the wall.

Even with the clear sides, the contents of the totes were not easily deciphered from just glancing into them. Regardless, Granger tilted sideways to try and gaze into them. He pointed without actually touching the surface. “Is that a set of keys?”

Frieda kicked away from the table and canted her head to the side, to the same angle as Granger. Even Patterson, across the room, was leaning that way. “Let’s see shall we?”

Granger and Patterson deconstructed a section of the wall of totes, to free the one in question, and they hoisted the thing onto the examination table. Curiosity mounting, Granger leaned closer as Frieda withdrew the items to work her way down to the keys at the bottom. Once the set of keys were splayed on the table, Frieda passed her EMF detector over them, getting a moderate spike. “They do hold some kind of energy. Let’s see what sort.”

“I’m having a hard time imagining one of the fey driving around in a Bentley,” Granger muttered, noting the winged logo on the one car key in the set. These weren’t some random set of keys for file cabinets and closets in an office setting. These were someone’s personal set.

Frieda moved the keys to a specimen plate, and then slid them into one of the spectrometers. With the flick of a switch, it hummed to life and a series of spikes showed on the screen. “These are fey energy signatures, but see the uniform spread of the arrangement. No natural magic would spread like that.”

“So it is wizard enchanted,” Patterson whispered, then turned back to the stacks and stacks of totes they had yet to go through. “If all this is either stolen fey items, or items enchanted with stolen fey magic—”

“Then you are looking at a wholesale massacre of fey on a grand scale.” Frieda agreed.

Granger picked up the thought, and continued it. “And given that the fey don’t usually live in England these days, they were getting shipped in from some place.” His frown deepened. “These wizards weren’t going to all this trouble just to enchant their cars from theft. They were up to something big.”

“Until someone stopped them.”

Granger glanced to Patterson and nodded slowly. “Someone that knows a lot more about what’s going on than we do.” Interpol’s Special Office of Parahumans, Demonics, and Magic wasn’t always the first to know about things, but they weren’t often the last either. “Someone who doesn’t seem too concerned about innocent bystanders getting in the way of vigilante justice. Of the humans inside that building, how many were actually wizards, and how many just clueless employees there to earn a paycheck and feed their families? There is an undercurrent here. The elimination of the wizards in Bristol. The demolition of the Brighter Corporation’s headquarters. Something is brewing here. I can feel it in my bones.”

The machine processing the blood sample stopped its churning and uttered an unobtrusive tone of completion. Frieda rose from her stool to collect the printout scrolling on a streamer of paper. “Perhaps this one has your answers?”

She handed the paper over to Granger, who frowned at it. “What does this even mean?”

Pointing to the data, she repeated what was indicated there. “The DNA is human. The high levels of magic laced in the blood is pure fey. Not the work of your wizards, just to be clear.”

“She’s… a human… that’s been enchanted… by the fey?” Granger’s brows furrowed, trying to wrap his head around it.

Patterson gave a snort. “Oh, that does change things, now doesn’t it, mate?”