Witchling

Page 11

"I don't know, but I don't like it."
I reached out, trying to figure out what was going down. Inhaling deeply, I let the breath settle into my lungs, but the sound of breaking glass startled me. A muffled scream rang back from the front of the store.
"That's Rina!" I jumped up and looked around wildly for something to open the door with. "We've got to get out of here!"
Delilah motioned for me to stand back. She stared at the door for a moment, contemplating the trajectory, then took aim and let fly with her foot. The heel of her platform boot caught the knob at just the right angle, busting it loose from the wood as the doorframe splintered. She'd learned from the best back in OW, training for a number of years under a martial arts master. Delilah was the equivalent of a black belt kung fu practitioner.
We rushed down the hall into the main room of the store. Rina was sprawled over the counter, all too dead. Blood spatters led from the counter to the middle of the room, and stopped. I sniffed. The metallic smell of blood filled the air. That, and ozone. Somebody had dropped a butt load of magic here in the past few minutes. I glanced down at my feet where a single brown and yellow feather lay. As I bent down to pick it up, Delilah hissed and backed up.
"Demon. That's from a demon," she said. "I can feel it from here."
"It's that freakin' harpy." I turned the feather over in my hand. It felt greasy and dirty and all kinds of nasty. "When we find this bitch, we're going to spit her and roast her over Shadow Wing's fire pit."
"Do you think she was after the same information we were?"
"I don't know, but I'm calling Chase. We have to report this, and I think we should ask him to bring in a Corpse Talker." With a sigh, I pulled out my phone and punched seven on speed dial.
While we waited for Chase, I took a closer look at Rina's body. A few minutes ago, she'd been a gorgeous woman capable of turning a King's head. Now, there wasn't much left that you could even remotely, call beautiful. Blood covered the floor from multiple lacerations covering her body and face. I averted my eyes from her midsection, which had been eviscerated, leaving nothing to the imagination. Blood and guts I was used to, but that didn't mean I had to like it.
Delilah joined me, trying not to look at Rina. We knew better than to cover the body. There would be evidence to take, and if we were going to employ a Corpse Talker, then we needed to leave as few energy imprints as possible.
"You think Bad Ass Luke was with her?" she said.
I shook my head. "I don't smell him here, but I smell bird."
To be precise, Bad Ass Luke's real name was twenty-eight letters long and almost unpronounceable. Father had told us what it really was, but Lucianopoloneelisunekonekari was just too much of a mouthful, so he'd shortened it to Luke. Bad Ass had simply been tagged on due to a well-deserved reputation.
"No, this was the harpy's work." I fingered the feather. "The coloring's right, and Rina's shredded flesh… talons for sure."
Delilah grimaced. "Dirty, filthy creatures. How the hell did they sneak through the portal in the first place? Jocko keeps a good guard on duty."
"The answer to that would be right in line with Chase's suspicion of an inside job," I said as the shop door opened. Speak of the devil, Chase peeked inside. I waved him over, and he cautiously approached Rina's body, a pained look on his face. Sometimes I forgot FBHs had weaker stomachs than we did.
"Jesus, what happened?" he pulled out his notebook, shaking his head. "She looks like she's been through a body-count movie."
"Harpy, but we'll need a necromancer to be certain. A Corpse Talker, to be exact." I handed him the feather. "This came from her attacker, I believe."
He gingerly took the feather and glanced up at me. "Where were you during this time?"
I grimaced. "Delilah and I were locked in a back room. We were waiting for Rina to come talk to us when somebody locked us in."
"You let yourselves get locked in a room? What kind of agents are you?" He stifled a snort.
"Back off, dude. Why do you think we were sent to this backwater place? Anyway, show some respect The woman's dead, and she didn't go gently." I sighed, scratching one of my ears. My earrings were silver, and I had the feeling they were only plated. "We were going to ask her some questions, but that's all moot, now. Harpies come from the Subterranean Realms, Chase. They're Demonkin." I stepped away to give him better access.
"Shit," he said under his breath. "Then you were right. A demon actually broke through. This isn't that Shadow Wing fellow you were talking about, is it?"
I shook my head. "No. Shadow Wing makes a harpy look like a child's toy. Right now, we know that three demons are running amok Earthside. They're scouts. We think that you're right, that somebody on the inside helped sneak them through the portals. Somebody who knows how to open the gates to the netherworld. Possibly a demon in disguise, or maybe just one of the Fae, acting in accordance with them. Either case spells bad news."
"Speaking of news," he said, pulling out his cell phone, "I received word from HQ today. Menolly is to take over the bar. It will officially be transferred to her name. She's the new owner of the Wayfarer as far as Earth is concerned."
"Well, that's different." I frowned. "Not necessarily good, but different. This could make her a prime target. You say this was headquarters' idea?"
"That was the directive on my desk when I got to work this morning. Oh, and there's something else you might want to know about. Somebody leaked word to the media that Jocko was murdered. There's going to be a protest marching through town by the Guardian Watchdogs."
"Are they marching by the Indigo Crescent?" I asked.
He nodded. "That, and every, other shop they know to be run by the Fae. Doesn't matter if you're half-blood or not, they consider you a threat. The police will try to corral them, but free speech and all that crap."
I frowned. Sometimes, muzzles were an attractive alternative to corral some of the more vocal backlash groups. The Watchdogs thought we were tempting people into the arms of the devil. They'd be singing another tune when Shadow Wing's troops came sweeping through, annihilating everything in their path. Then the Watchdogs would be crawling to us on their bellies, begging for our help.
Chase stood, dialing a number on his cell. "You say we need a Corpse Talker?" he mouthed to me.
I nodded. "Make sure that she's a necromancer too, or we could be dealing with somebody who isn't qualified. And we need her down here before anybody touches the body."
Within minutes he'd summoned both a Corpse Talker and the unit specially designed to clean up after OIA matters such as this. The Court and Crown had specific restrictions on how the bodies of those from Otherworld were to be handled. There were rites that could only be performed if the body had been treated in a certain manner, and while Rina was persona non grata back home, now that she was dead, the exile would be lifted, and she would be returned to spend eternity in the arms of her ancestors.
Let's hear it for hypocrisy, I thought with a shake of my head.
While we waited, Delilah and I filled Chase in on Rina's background and how she came to be living in Seattle.
"I thought that monogamy was unusual among your people," Chase said.
I snorted. "Monogamy has nothing to do with it. She disrespected the Queen—a sovereign offense. If she'd asked for permission to sleep with the King, Lethesanar would have probably given her blessing. Rina basically stole from the Crown."
Chase looked more confused than ever. "But the King agreed. Isn't he also the Crown?" I almost wanted to pat him on the head.
"Yeah, it's confusing. Look at it this way: the King belongs to the Queen. Yes, he's one of our sovereigns, but he doesn't take a piss without Lethesanar's permission."
Chase coughed. "Your society isn't exactly male-oriented, huh?"
"Not so much. The throne passes from mother to daughter. The Queen picks her consort from her cousins—there must always be a blood link—and any children born from a tryst that doesn't involve the King are automatically out of contention for the crown."
"Huh. What if the Queen doesn't have a daughter?"
"Then her sister or her sister's daughter will ascend to the throne. All women in the royal family who stand even within an arm's reach of the throne are required to bear children. At least two, but preferably three if one of the two happens to be a boy. The King has his power, but the Queen is sovereign. Since she chooses whom she will marry, he's subject to her and considered an extension of her. By screwing the King without the Queen's permission, Rina—in essence—raped the Queen."
As I finished explaining, the door swung open, and the OIA medical team burst through, followed by their Earthside OIA counterparts. A short figure in a long, dark shroud led the group, gliding across the floor as if floating. An indigo glow emanated from the chiffon veils that covered both body and face hidden within the multitude of layers.
I took a step back. Corpse Talkers made me nervous, not because they spoke with the dead, but because they were dark, misshapen Faerie who came up to the surface from deep under the ground. Banned from the city of Y'Elestrial except upon summons, their race had no name that we knew of, and no one ever saw their faces. The males remained hidden in the depths of their underground city, and only their women could become Corpse Talkers. Most lived by a set of bound rules and regulations, but a few had gone rogue and were considered wild and dangerous.
The Corpse Talker knelt by Rina's side. "Has anyone touched her since her death?" Her voice was hollow, almost cavernous from within the folds of the hooded cloak.
Taking a deep breath, I knelt near her, taking care to not even so much as brush my aura against hers. There were stories of very nasty explosions that had happened when the energy of a witch and a Corpse Talker collided, and I had no intention of finding out if they were old wives' tales or true.
"I tested her pulse to see if she was still alive. Otherwise, I don't think anybody but the killer touched her." I held up the feather. "I found this on the ground next to her and picked it up before I thought about it."
The darksome hood turned toward me, and I thought I caught sight of a pair of steel eyes staring out at me, luminous and cold. "Harpy," was all she said, but that was enough to verify what we'd been thinking.
Over the years, I'd seen Corpse Talkers at work, and their dedication and icy passion for their work unnerved me, but I was inexorably fascinated by them. Delilah, on the other hand, watched from beside Chase. She looked nervous; he was totally freaked. Luckily for us, he was enough of a professional to know when to keep his mouth shut.
The shrouded figure bent over Rina's body and slowly pressed her face to Rina's bloody face. Lips to lips, the Corpse Talker kissed Rina deeply, sucking the remnants of the fallen soul out of the body into her own. I knew the drill.
Lips to lips, mouth to mouth,
Comes the speaker of the shrouds.
Suck in the spirit, speak the words,
Let secrets of the dead be heard.
The rhyme echoed in my head; a ditty sung by children hoping to keep the bogeys at bay. But bogeys were child's play compared to these creatures—whatever they were—and bogeys didn't demand flesh as payment for their services. Rina's remains would lie with her ancestors, except for her heart.
We waited in silence, the air growing thick as the Corpse Talker hovered over the body. I glanced up at Chase. He looked faint, and Delilah—who had apparently noticed his expression—silently reached for his hand. Startled, he gave her a quick look and accepted, her touch giving him the strength to straighten his shoulders, though I still heard him gulp down what was likely his breakfast. The scent of his fear mingled with the scent of blood, and I was grateful Menolly wasn't here; she was still so young at the vamp business, and young vamps grew ravenous at the smell of a pricked finger.
After a moment, the Corpse Talker stood, silent as before. I stepped forward. Time to find out if we'd hit the target.
"Rina, can you hear me?"
In a voice that was Rina's and yet not Rina's, the Corpse Talker breathed a soft, "Yes."
We only had a few minutes before the residue from Rina's soul departed, just enough for a couple of quick questions, and then we were out of luck. In some cases, Corpse Talkers weren't able to grab hold of the soul's cord for even that long.
"Who killed you?"
A pause, then again the whisper. "Harpy."
"Do you know why?" I watched the shrouded figure as she swayed, struggling to keep hold of Rina's soul.
"No."
Nice. Short, but sweet. The dead weren't always talkative, which was understandable. We had to make every question count. I thought hard. We had one, perhaps two more chances. What else could I ask that might be of value? And then, I knew. More questions about Rina's death would be a waste of time, but maybe, just maybe I could gain some insight on what we'd come to learn.
"How can I find Tom Lane?"
The Corpse Talker shuddered, as if not expecting the question, but she managed to regain control. After a moment, she said, "He's mad as a hatter, mad as a hare. Go to the woodland, but be you aware. Look for the ancients who shelter from storm, but first you must pass through the lair of the wyrm."
And then Rina's body jerked.
"Oh shit!" Chase blurted out. "What the fuck?"