Autumn Whispers

Chapter 7

The kitchen was jammed. Breakfast time had become a thriving bustle in our home, with the exception of Menolly, of course. Everybody other than Iris and Bruce was there. Smoky and Trillian were handing stacks of plates and dishes of food from Hanna, who was in charge of the counter, to Vanzir, who arranged them on the table. Camille was on the phone, trying to talk over the clamor. Nerissa had her head jammed in the refrigerator, looking for something while Rozurial filled juice glasses. Shade jumped in to help, while I slid through the chaos to sit by Camille.

Camille had one finger in her ear while pressing the receiver against her other ear and was shouting over the mayhem. And then, she let out a loud “Oh, fuck” and, at the tone of her voice, the kitchen quieted down. A moment later, she punched the End Talk button and looked up, mute sorrow on her face.

She inhaled sharply, slowly exhaled, and shook her head. “That was Chase. He’s down at the Wayfarer. The fire’s out, the embers are cold . . .”

“What’s the damage?” Nerissa closed the refrigerator and approached the table, a guarded look on her face. She’d have to be the one consoling Menolly the most, even though we’d all be there.

Camille flashed her a bleak look. “Eight dead—they found another body in the remains. The bar is eighty percent destroyed. The fire marshal says a candle in one of the upstairs rooms tipped over, or something like that. It caught the curtain on fire and . . .”

“Oh crap. One of the guest rooms. Was the occupant one of the victims?” If not, then whoever it was had left the candle burning unattended.

“That’s the thing . . . the door was locked, and there seems to be no record of a guest checked into that room.”

“We were right. Arson.”

Camille shrugged. “Yeah. I told them about the calls. Would be way too easy to cloak arson as an accident. And while there’s a record of all guests, Menolly’s office with the computer was a casualty. We have no way of accessing any of their names or where they came from. And you know, nobody’s going to remember in this mess. Chase talked to Derrick and to Digger, but neither could help much.”

“Do they have any clue whether any vampires were caught in the fire? Nothing would be left but piles of dust to mix with the ashes.” Fire could destroy so much, including all traces that someone had once walked this world.

“We won’t know for sure, ever, though tonight when the vamps rise, we might be able to figure out a few things. See if anybody was at the club with a vamp who has vanished. You know how that goes.”

I nodded. “Yeah, sadly.”

Camille attacked her stack of pancakes and sausage. “How are you feeling? How’s your hand? You up to going out to Interlaken Park to find out if there’s any evidence that Violet may have had a stalker?”

I held up my freshly bandaged wound. “It hurts. It’s going to hurt. As long as I take it easy, everything should be fine. It doesn’t look like it’s spreading and I feel a lot better than last night.”

She glanced over at Nerissa. “Tonight, we have to head to Otherworld. Menolly’s going to have to know about the extent of the damage as soon as she wakes up. I think . . . we’d all better gather here around 5:30. Sunset is at about 6:30 for another week or so till Daylight Savings Time kicks in. We need to have as much info as we can on what’s going down regarding the bar. Can you gather up everything you can find out while you’re at work?”

Nerissa nodded. “Will do. I guess sometimes it’s a good thing that I work for Chase’s division.” She finished up her breakfast—mostly, Menolly’s wife ate a lot of meat, some vegetables and fruits, and a small amount of other foods. Her inner carnivore came out in spades. Earthside werepumas were known for their high protein consumption. “Okay, I’m off. I’ll be home before Menolly wakes up, and I’ll see what I can find out. Chase or I will call you if anything comes up that we need to address right away.”

As she gathered up her purse and threw on a jacket, the look on her face spoke for all of us. Telling Menolly that the fire had destroyed most of the bar would be bad enough, but we all knew the victims were the casualties that tore her to pieces. There was no way to cushion her heart from the death.

Nerissa had no sooner closed the door when Hanna turned around from the sink. “Someone needs to watch Maggie. I am to help the Duchess with Iris today, so the housework will have to wait.”

She stood, hands on her hips, staring at us. Hanna was tough. When Hyto kidnapped Camille and carried her off to his lair in the Northlands to face torture and death, Hanna had helped her escape at risk of her own life. Camille had brought her home, and now Hanna lived with us and helped Iris out with the housework and taking care of Maggie.

I decided to delegate. “Smoky, you and Vanzir help Hanna today. Rozurial, can you and Trillian prepare for our trip tonight? Shade, come with Camille and me to check out the park?” And then, it occurred to me that—in the chaos surrounding the fire at the Wayfarer—we hadn’t filled everybody in on what was happening. They knew something was up, given Grandmother Coyote and the gargoyles, but they had no clue about everything else.

“On second thought, let’s start at the beginning . . .” I nodded to Camille, and we laid out everything that had happened the evening before.

“So, let me get this straight: A—Grandmother Coyote wants you to find out what’s going down with the daemonic activity at the Farantino Building and put a stop to it. B—You have to track down a group of dreglins and exterminate them. And C—Tad and Albert want you to find out what happened to their friend Violet.” Vanzir grinned at me. “That about it, pussycat?”

The dream-chaser demon liked to needle me, but his teasing had evolved into a fond playfulness rather than the edgy sarcasm that had at first prefaced it.

“That’s about it. I honestly don’t know what to think about Violet—there’s still a nagging voice that says she just disappeared off on some trip, but I don’t want to chance us being wrong.” I glanced up at the clock. “Okay, let’s head out. First, we’d better swing by the Wayfarer and see just what the damage is. Then we’ll stop at the FH-CSI and I’ll have them look at my hand. After that, we can do a little daylight surveillance of the Farantino Building. And then, over to the park.”

As Camille polished off her breakfast, Shade began clearing the table. My mind was scattered, but in the back of my thoughts, I couldn’t help but think that the dam had broken. Our lucky streak was over and we were back on the job.

Camille drove again. I was getting tired of my Jeep being in the shop but Jason was working as fast as he could, and we trusted him. Parts could only be ordered so quickly, and with three rush jobs ahead of mine, things had been poking along at a snail’s pace.

We inched through the rush hour traffic. At this time of the morning, it was still bumper-to-bumper and would be for another hour. Camille had her iPhone plugged in to the dash and her playlist was blasting away. I grimaced. How anybody could listen to Nine Inch Nails at this time in the morning escaped me, but it was her car, so we listened to her music.

The morning gloom was thick and the rain heavy, and the streets were slick. Camille flipped off the music, just before an SUV swerved into our lane.

“Fucking idiots are out in droves.” She slammed on the brakes as the SUV cut her off, nosing in where there wasn’t room. The Lexus skidded to the right, and we almost crashed into a Mercedes parked in front of a coffee shop, but Camille managed to straighten out and avoid the collision. After that, she focused on the road, and Shade and I kept quiet.

A couple more near misses—both times a big hunking gas guzzler trying to shove into too tight of a space—and we were onto the street where the Wayfarer stood. Or what was left of it. We pulled in, parking in front of the smoking remains, and Camille turned off the ignition. We stared, none of us saying a word.

The fire hadn’t spread to the neighboring buildings, luckily, but the bar was obviously gutted. I slowly unfastened my seat belt and opened the car door. The smell of smoke hung thick in the air, and the scents of charred wood and wet ash filled my nostrils. I sneezed, and Camille echoed me. She came around to stand by my left, while Shade flanked my right.

The yellow caution tape still surrounded the entrance, blocking off half the sidewalk. Derrick Means was standing there, staring up at the bar with his hands jammed in his pockets. His hair, usually in a ponytail, hung straight—as black as Camille’s but with a shock of white streaking through it. He had eyes the color of my own—emerald green. He was damned good at his job. A werebadger, Derrick had quickly become Menolly’s righthand man at the Wayfarer, acting as both bartender and, at times, bouncer. Now and then he played the part of a sounding board.

He turned as we approached. “Fucking mess, if you ask me.”

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s worse than we feared. Menolly doesn’t know yet, just how bad the damage is. We can’t tell her till she rises tonight.”

Derrick coughed, then spit on the ground. He wiped his mouth. “Going to break her heart. Does she know about Chrysandra?”

Camille let out a sigh. “Yes. All three of us were with her when she died. She didn’t go easy, I’ll tell you that. And Menolly knows that six others died—she hasn’t heard about the eighth victim yet.”

“The fire marshal says a candle ignited curtains in one of the rooms. I tell you though, it couldn’t have. Nobody was in that room. The damned door was locked. They had to break it down. And I know for a fact we didn’t register anybody into it—it hadn’t been cleaned yet after the last guest left.” Derrick scowled, kicking the wall with the toe of his heavy boot. “Did she tell you about the calls?”

We stared at him. So he’d had the same thought we had.

“You know about them?” I cocked my head to the side, squinting up at the second floor. Even from out here, it was obvious how heavy the damage had been.

“Oh, hell yes. But Menolly wouldn’t let me report the first one, and the second—I was there when you were. I heard her trying to get info out of the freak. I’m convinced this was somebody’s idea of payback. Who? I dunno. But somebody wanted to destroy the Wayfarer and they found a way to do it.” The bartender shook his head. “And you just wait—two humans were among the dead. Their families aren’t going to wait long before they lawyer up and sue Menolly’s ass off.”

That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I didn’t think it had crossed Camille’s either, by the look on her face.

“What the hell . . . you think somebody might actually do that? What if it’s found to be arson? Would she still be liable?” I hopped over the tape and cautiously approached the building. As I peered in the window, which was now an opening with a pile of jagged glass surrounding it, the inside of the bar was a surreal sight.

In the dim light, I could still see broken timbers from the ceiling that had come crashing down to the floor. The rows of booths were now piles of rubble, the tables and chairs were so much charcoal, and the bar—the beautiful hand carved bar—was a charred, ruined mess. The Wayfarer was a total loss.

I turned around. “Did the cops say when we can pick through the ashes to see what we can salvage?”

Derrick shrugged. “They told me that we can go back in, but we better have a demolition company come here first and remove some of the hanging beams. It’s dangerous. Over eighty percent destroyed. But that means there may be a few things worth saving, and they said that the foundation of the structure is still viable. Menolly can rebuild, if she wants to.”

“If it is legally deemed arson, we can collect the insurance. But if it’s labeled an accident, then who knows what’s going to happen. And if, like you said, the families of the victims sue . . . it could wipe out everything.” I rubbed my head. “What are we going to do?”

Camille maneuvered over the caution tape and wrapped her arm around my waist, peering in. “You know as well as I do that the worst part of this for Menolly is going to be the eight victims. Money is only money. You can always make more. But lives have been lost and that’s never easy.”

“Yeah. I know.” I knew she was thinking of Henry Jeffries, a regular at the Indigo Crescent—Camille’s bookshop. He’d volunteered to work for her part time and the thanks he got for his trouble was a violent death come too early, meted out by our enemies. He had left a good share of his money to Camille, though, and she’d expanded the shop and rebuilt after it had been partially destroyed in an explosion, adding on a coffee shop next door.

But as far as keeping our Earthside livelihoods intact, we were batting a thousand, it seemed.

We stared at the entrance. I was tempted to go in, to find something to salvage in order to give Menolly a little comfort but Camille was right. The building, the bar . . . all of that would hurt, of course. But the people . . . their deaths would haunt Menolly for years unless we could prove to her that it hadn’t been somehow her fault.

I glanced over at Derrick. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll wait here. The others will be here soon. We’re going to dive in and start making some sense of this so that by the time Menolly gets here tomorrow night, it’s not so horrifying. She’s a great boss and we want to help out however we can.” He gave us a two-fingered salute as we slowly returned to the car.

Shade was the first to speak once we were buckled in and back on the road. “If there’s a question of money, not to worry. Between Smoky and me, we can make this happen. We talked about it this morning before the two of you woke up.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “Love, you are so wonderful. And Smoky. But what we really need is for the fire marshal to find the evidence pointing to arson. We need the physical proof for Menolly’s sake.”

Camille frowned. “That’s going to be difficult, especially if the fire marshal is on the fence about it. But . . . all right. If the fire started in a locked room, I guess our first question to ask is: Who had a key to that room? Who could have gotten in there? Could the lock have been picked? Was it an easy target? Considering it’s a hotel room, essentially, I hope the answer to the latter two questions is no. Because having unsecured guest rooms? Not so good for business and you know the rumor mill would fly.”

“I guess we ask Menolly who had the keys. Then, we ask whoever had a copy if they still have it. Maybe somebody stole one and it wasn’t noticed.” I pulled out my notepad and jotted stuff down. I loved my laptop but didn’t trust my phone to capture the notes I was making. Camille, on the other hand, now used her phone for everything. I think she even slept with it near the bed, though I wouldn’t put it past one of her husbands to turn the damned thing off when she wasn’t looking.

“What next?” Shade looked around. “I don’t think there’s much more we can do here, at least not right now.”

Slowly, I agreed. “You’re right.” Part of me was loath to leave the bar. It seemed callous to turn our backs and walk away, but what would we accomplish by staying? I tucked my notepad away and let out a long sigh. “Okay, it’s off to the FH-CSI.”

With a wave to Derrick, we turned, and left the burned out shell behind us.

The bustle was loud and noisy at the FH-CSI. Chase gave us a wave as we passed his office; he looked like he was in a meeting with some bigwig in a suit. He peeked around his office door.

“See you tonight, guys. I promised Nerissa that I’ll gather all the information I can about the Wayfarer then, but right now but this meeting’s one I have to take.”

We waved him back into his office and headed for the medic unit. There, Sharah was bandaging up one of the officers, who looked like he’d been bitten by a dog. Blonde and timidly pretty, the elfin medic was ready to pop any day, like Iris, and looked harried and tired. She was also the niece to Queen Asteria, back in Elqaneve. She brushed away a stray lock of hair and flashed us a genuine smile as we entered the room, then slapped the officer on the knee.

“You’re good to go. Just watch it next time, Dan. Dog bites can be dangerous, and it’s worse when a hellhound is involved.”

Camille winced. She’d been wounded by a hellhound before, and the acid in its bite had left quite a tidy scar on her. The cop merely nodded his thanks, pulled down his pants leg, and headed out without even glancing our way.

“You want me to check that hand?” Sharah asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, if you’ve got the time. You hear what happened last night?”

“Chase said that you were bitten by some sort of Fae, and then of course, all the commotion with the Wayfarer.” Sobering, she motioned for me to take a seat. “I’m sorry about Chrysandra. She was a good person. Real class act.”

“Yeah, she was. Menolly took it hard. Chrysandra was there from the start—from when Menolly first went to work at the Wayfarer.” As I sat down, Camille and Shade headed out to the waiting room, giving us space.

Sharah and Chase made a good couple, and I had let go of any lingering sense of regret. They fit together. Shade and I fit together. Chase and I had not done so well and we made far better friends than lovers.

For a while, Sharah had been leery of my continued friendship with the detective, but it had been her pregnancy hormones talking, and she’d managed to get them under control. We’d had dinner out a few times—both couples together—and things felt like they were back to normal. Or rather, we were at a new normal—a comfortable one.

She unwrapped my dressings and winced. “Oh Delilah, this is a nasty bite. Must hurt like hell.” Probing gently around the edges, she finally rose to fetch a jar of salve off the shelf. She motioned me over to the sink, where she used a cleaning solution and antibacterial soap to irrigate the wound.

“Well, it isn’t spreading. It is necrotic in origin, but you caught it soon enough and the salve is doing its job. We seem to have neutralized the venom and all we have to do now is to keep the wound clean and bandaged and it will heal over. You will have a scar and there’s going to be an indentation right here where the flesh is gone. I imagine it will fill in a little as it heals, but there’s nothing that can really put that chunk of missing flesh back. Somehow, your attacker missed major arteries. The nerve endings might be a little dulled, but I don’t think it will impede the use of your hand.”

I winced as she dried it. “I feel like a jerk for even saying this, after seeing what Chrysandra was going through last night. But truth is? Great gods, this hurts.”

“Don’t even compare the two. Pain is pain. Yes, she was in agony but that doesn’t mean this wound doesn’t hurt, either. People make that mistake all the time—negating their own problems because somebody else has it worse. Now, if you said that directly to her? Yes, then it would be crass.”

She sighed, pressing her hands against her back as she gently stretched. “We all have our trials. I’m afraid this will hurt for a long time—not as bad as it does now, but it’s going to ache. While we can negate the toxin, we can’t do anything for the pain without doping you up and I don’t think you want that.” She finished bandaging it and stood back with a sigh.

I gingerly rubbed my wrist, above the wound. “No, that’s the last thing I need right now.” Flashing her a rueful grin, I added, “Are you ready for tonight? You haven’t been home in a while, have you?”

Sharah’s expression crumbled and she sank into a chair, looking both uncomfortable and frightened. “No, I haven’t. Thing is . . . I haven’t told my aunt about the baby.”

Okay, so I hadn’t expected to hear that, but I understood her reasoning. If anybody knew how bad things were for half-breeds, especially among Otherworld nobility, it was my sisters and me. We had been teased unmercifully by a number of children in the Court back in Y’Elestrial, constantly called Windwalkers—a derogatory term for those of half blood among the Fae. I wasn’t sure what the equivalent term was for elves, but it was probably just as mean.

“How will the trip through the portal affect you? Are you sure it’s safe for you to travel right now? You say Queen Asteria doesn’t know you’re pregnant. If she knew, would she insist that you return home right now?” It occurred to me that if Queen Asteria knew the truth of the matter, she might give Sharah some leeway. I knew the portal probably would be safe enough, but if there was any doubt . . .

Sharah shrugged. “The portals shouldn’t bother me. Honestly, while they feel like they rip you apart and stick you back together again, they don’t. It may not be comfortable, but it’s not like Star Trek. You know that.” She grinned at me then. “But thanks for trying to give me an out.”

I smiled back. “Yeah, true. And your aunt knows all about the mechanics of how they work. Seriously, do you think that word hasn’t leaked back? Could Mallen have told her?”

She paled—and elves were naturally pale. “I never thought about that. He’s my friend. He wouldn’t rat me out.”

Grinning, I said, “You’ve been over here long enough that you’re starting to pick up the slang. Well, she’s never mentioned it to us, but your aunt seems to be privy to a lot of secrets and it wouldn’t surprise me that she’s got operatives over here whom none of us know about. Whatever the case, you know that my sisters and I will stand behind you and Chase, even if Queen Asteria gets pissed.”

With a nod, Sharah let out a long sigh. “See, the problem is this: I’m expected to eventually return home and marry into the Court. I’m her niece, and I’m close enough to the throne for things like marriage and breeding to matter. There aren’t that many relatives left who are standing in line. But show up with a half-blood child? I have no idea what kind of reception I’ll get. And the fact that Chase has a little elf blood in his lineage, well, that’s not going to make all that much difference.”

“Are things bad for half-breeds in the elfin court? When Camille, Menolly, and I were growing up, we were teased without mercy. Camille used to beat up on the kids who made fun of us, she tried to protect Menolly and me, but it never stopped.” Visions of our childhood flashed through my mind, and I shook my head. Kids could be so damned cruel. For a long time the memories had haunted me, but lately, I found I could shake them away without the sting they once held.

Sharah caught my gaze and held it. “It’s worse among the elves. Lineage means so much to my people.”

“I didn’t know that, but now that you mention it, yeah, I guess I can see how that is.” The elves were proper and there was a sense of decorum about them that I could easily visualize verging into sanctimonious territory.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” She gave me a rueful smile. “Thanks for backing us up, Delilah. Especially you. I know that it must feel odd with Chase and me being together but . . .”

“Not anymore. You two are much better suited to one another. At first, yes, it did feel a little awkward, but I’m happy for you, Sharah. And I love Shade. We’re a matched pair. And I want Chase to be happy—and you make him happy, and so does the fact that he’s going to be a father.” I paused, not sure how far I should push, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “You know he would love to marry you.”

“I know.” She paused. “He’s asked, and I was pretty sure that he told you I said no. I just . . . I don’t want to tie him down to something he may regret. He’s just barely beginning to discover his own powers. The Nectar of Life changed him, and there’s no getting around the fact that he’ll be going through this transformation for years maybe. It’s impossible to predict just where he’s going to end up.”

“I know that.” I leaned forward. “But one thing I’ve discovered over the years here is that humans—FBH’s, if you will—they live uncertain and short lives. They are used to taking chances and risks because if they don’t, they may face the end of their lives wondering what would have happened if they’d gone for the gold ring, if they’d jumped at this chance, or that opportunity. They don’t have the luxury to stroll through life. And even though Chase’s life span is now drastically extended, I think his mind is still caught up in that thought process. It’s all he’s ever known.”

I’d never really thought it through before, but now that the words were out of my mouth it made so much sense. “Sharah, if the marriage doesn’t work out, it’s not permanent. Over here, Earthside, there really isn’t any sense of permanence. If you guys find out that you aren’t really meant for each other, you can separate.”

Sharah bit her lip. “I hadn’t thought about that. Back home, in Elqaneve, marriages are for life. Yes, they are usually marriages based on politics, and taking a lover is a common practice—though not quite as common as among your people—but I am expected to marry into the Court and produce children of my bloodline, and unless there is obvious abuse, I’m stuck with my husband for life. Somehow, I don’t think this little one is going to be accepted.” She rubbed her stomach. Tears welled up and she hung her head. “My aunt is going to say I disgraced my name. I know it.”

Life back in Otherworld could be just as harsh as life Earthside. So many people had always thought of the Fae and elves as happy, peaceful creatures who lived simple lives, but that was a long way from the truth. We didn’t flit around flowers, and even those who were woodland Fae, connected to the forests, were often ruthless and dangerous.

I leaned forward and rested my hand on her hers. “Fuck ’em then. I don’t use that word often, like Camille and Menolly do, but fuck them and the horse they rode in on. If they don’t accept you, too bad. You’ve got Chase here, you’ve got us, and you’ve got friends. You’re not alone, Sharah.”

She lifted her head and I wiped the tears off her face.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “That means so much to me.”

“It’s true.” I sighed. “But I’d better get a move on. We have things to do before leaving for Otherworld tonight. See you this evening . . . and—whatever happens—we’ll be there for you.”

As I left, she began to disinfect the table on which I’d rested my arm. I paused, watching the elf for a moment, then headed to the waiting room. Camille and Shade were sitting patiently, Camille was reading a book—a mystery by J. A. Jance. Shade was writing down something in a small notebook. They both looked up as I entered the room. I motioned to them and they stood, following me out the doors.

When we were in Camille’s car, I told them what Sharah had said. “She’s scared out of her mind that Queen Asteria is going to be so pissed off she’ll kick her out of the family or something.”

“Well, I know how that feels.” Camille frowned. Our father had disowned her for a while, for a decision she had made. He was just now working his way back into our good graces and had apologized profusely.

“I told her we’d back her and Chase up, if the Queen gives her any flack.”

“Hell yes.” Camille put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. “She and Chase are good people. I’m so tired of being pushed around by the royalty and I sure as hell don’t intend to stand by and watch that happen to friends.” She paused, and added, “While you were getting your hand looked at, I made a couple quick calls. Besides all of the offices in the Farantino Building, there’s also a small coffee shop, probably to service the people who work there. But it’s also open to the public. We can make a stop there, and get a feel for the building that way.”

“Have you had a chance to look over what Carter gave us last night? The files on the building?” I had been in no shape to do so that was for sure.

She shook her head. “No, by the time we got home, I was as done in as everybody else. But we can do that . . . I guess when we get back from Otherworld. It doesn’t seem pressing at this point so I think a day’s delay won’t hurt anything.”

As we headed to the Farantino Building, I watched out the window at the heavy rains pounding down. We were in the thick of autumn now, and the energy was strong for me. Hi’ran loomed in my thoughts, and as I leaned back against the seat, soothed by the gray clouds and the gloom, it occurred to me just how far I’d come since we moved here. And it made me wonder just where I was going to end up.