Grave Visions Page 17

  Tamara twisted to stare at Ethan with rounded, red-rimmed eyes. “What if they tell us . . .” She trailed off, her hand once again pressing protectively against her stomach.

  “We will deal with whatever happens, together.” He knelt in front of her, cupping both her hands in his. “Tamara Amelia Greene, I love you. Marry me. Right here. Right now.”

  Tamara looked around at the disheveled group, at the disarray of the trampled scene, at the half-eaten cake, and then down at her white gloves that were stained with the makeup her tears had washed away. “This is not how I imagined it.”

  “Oh, but think of the stories we’ll have,” Ethan said, and gave her a beaming smile before climbing to his feet and pulling her up after him. “The most important people are still here. Marry me, Tam.”

  She finally smiled. “Yes.” She kissed him. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  I slipped out of my seat silently and backed away. It would take them a minute to gather the necessary people and work out the details. If they had a quick ceremony, I’d stand with Tamara as one of her bridesmaids—if she’d still have me after all this—but for now I let them have their moment without a crowd.

  John, who’d attended the wedding as a guest but had been hanging out with the cops investigating the case since the disturbance, met my eye and waved me over to join him. My legs were numb from sitting in the folding seat too long, and between that and the heels, they wobbled under me as I walked. Or at least that was what I told myself. I really didn’t want to think I was simply that weak from the fading already.

  I smoothed my dress as I crossed the empty dance floor—which was pretty pointless as the dress was well and truly ruined. Between throwing myself to the ground and then crawling to the gazebo, the dress had more than one grass stain on the maroon fabric. Fussing with the fabric did give me something to focus on besides the questions John would inevitably ask. But all too soon I’d crossed the garden and reached the friend I feared I was losing.

  He led me to a table and gestured for me to take a seat. I did, but immediately regretted doing so when John didn’t sit but instead loomed over me, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “So what exactly happened? Was this about a case you’re working?”

  No one had actually questioned me yet. There were a lot of witnesses, many of them cops, and I’d been with the group comforting the bride, so I hadn’t been singled out to report on what I’d seen. John knew a little bit more about me than most though. He didn’t know I was fae, but he knew my propensity for attracting trouble. Particularly fae-related trouble.

  “You’re assuming they were targeting me.”

  He lifted one bushy eyebrow that used to be red but was now salted with white. Yeah, he was making that assumption. And so was I.

  I sighed, debating what to tell him. He was a homicide detective, so this wasn’t his case. Even if it was, the suspects were fae and he wasn’t equipped to trace and arrest them. Still, while I might have preferred to hash out the details with Falin—he was a resource even if things were awkward between us—I could use any help I could get.

  “The two wedding crashers were bogeymen. That’s what set off the screaming fits—they can’t hide their nature from kids. I think one of them might have been a hobgoblin, which can’t be a coincidence as yesterday I got a tip that a hobgoblin might be dealing Glitter.”

  I expected some sort of response, even if it was a grunt approving my supposition or maybe a skeptical crinkle of his brows, but John gave me nothing. His expression froze as he thought, sharing nothing. After an agonizing stretch of seconds, he pulled out the chair beside me and sat.

  “Tell me what you know.”

  I didn’t know much, and some of what I did know I couldn’t share, but I described both my short exchange with the bartender at the Bloom as well as what I’d observed today at the wedding. John didn’t question how I’d seen through the faes’ glamour and I didn’t offer any explanation.

  “Why can’t you stay out of these kinds of cases, Alex?”

  My shoulders fell, heavy with the weight of his disapproval. “I don’t go out looking for them, but I can’t drop this case, John. I can’t.” Not if I wanted to track down the alchemist. He had to be stopped, and not just so I could retain a semblance of freedom. He had a lot of deaths on his hands. Plus he had to be held accountable for wrecking my best friend’s wedding.

  John ran a hand down his face, his thumb and forefinger pulling the skin around his eyes taut for a moment before dropping to the tabletop. “Why the hell not, Alex? Until the dart they shot at you can be found, we have no idea if they intended to kill you or capture you, but this looked a little more serious than just a warning. I mean, where do bogeymen even come from? Did they crawl out of a nightmare?”

  I opened my mouth, but then snapped it shut with a click. Where had the bogeymen come from? I’d assumed they had to be winter court or maybe independent. But what if they weren’t? Checking probably wouldn’t be too hard—the queen’s people had to have some sort of census list of everyone in her territory. Again, I needed to talk to Falin. Hopefully he was all right. Anyone at the FIB probably had access to a list of the independents at the very least, but I doubted any agent beside Falin would give me access to search for the bogeymen.

  But what if they weren’t independents or winter court? I’d made the assumption they were because this was winter’s territory, but bad guys didn’t follow the rules, that sort of went along with being a bad guy. But if not winter, what court did they belong to? Fae took oaths to their courts, but it wasn’t impossible to change allegiances. A frost pixie like Icelynne was likely to belong to the winter court, but while it would be uncomfortable, it wouldn’t be impossible for her to join, say, the summer court. Bogeymen were creatures that thrived in darkness, and like John had said, the subject of nightmares.

  I knew neither fae was an actual nightmare—I’d seen nightmares before in the realm of dreams—but that didn’t mean they didn’t belong in that creepy landscape. Or possibly in the shadow court. There was no guarantee, but I could make some inquiries. I even had contacts, of sorts, in both places.

  “You’ve thought of something,” John said, his expression caught between a scowl and concern.

  I shrugged, trying to make the movement look unconcerned. Judging by John’s deepening frown, I didn’t succeed.

  “I suppose nothing I say will convince you to drop this case?”

  “I would if I could, John. If I only could.”

  Chapter 17

  “Are you sure this is the best idea?” Caleb asked after he, Holly, and I signed in on both sides of the door in the VIP room of the Bloom.

  “Unless you have contacts that can help identify the bogeymen who crashed the wedding, yeah, it’s the best plan I can come up with.”

  Caleb and Holly exchanged frowns. In truth, Caleb’s concern worried me. He was my go-to resource for all things fae. I didn’t know how old he was—it was impolite to ask—but he’d been around a while and he understood fae politics a whole lot better than I did.

  “If you could give me a couple weeks, I’m sure we could track down someone who knows,” he said, but followed the comment with a sigh. “I know, you don’t have weeks. Damn, Al, I wished we’d realized earlier that you are fae enough to fade.”

  So did I. But we hadn’t, and now time was of the essence. “You two go find a table, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Again, a concerned glance passed between them, but Holly nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on you,” she said, offering what I’m sure was supposed to be an encouraging smile, but it came out too feeble to be very reassuring.

  Still, I nodded and headed for the long bar at the far side of the room.

  Today’s bartender was an enormous cyclops. The pint glass he was wiping as I approached looked like a thimble in his huge hands. He had a row of horns running down his ba
re scalp, like a boney Mohawk.

  “Uh, hi. I need to send a couple messages,” I said, trying to meet his gaze, but it was hard to figure out how to properly focus on his single red-irised eye.

  The cyclops grunted and grabbed something from under the bar. The meaty hand swung out in front of me and I fought the urge to cringe away. He opened his hand and an honest-to-goodness quill floated onto the bar top, followed by a handful of dried leaves.

  I nodded my appreciation and scooped up the items. Then I scurried to the other side of the bar, farther from the silent mountain of a bartender.

  The first message I scratched on one of the leaves was to Rianna. It said simply that I had a lead to follow and for her and Ms. B to remain in Faerie and contact me if things got too bad. It was a simple message, but scratching it out with the quill still took a while. Once I was finished, I crumbled the leaf. It was so dry, it turned into powder in my hand. I didn’t know how the messages worked, but I’d sent Rianna several over the last few months and the magic always ensured the messages made it to the intended party in Faerie.

  Faerie magic—maybe one day I’d understand it.

  The next leaf I addressed to Dugan, the prince of the shadow court. I hesitated, quill poised over the leaf. I’d been debating how to word this missive since I got the idea while talking to John, but the exact wording was elusive. Dugan believed he was my betrothed, so asking to meet with him shouldn’t be that hard, theoretically, but he was also heir to the shadow throne. The whole Faerie royalty thing was daunting.

  Finally I just scratched down a quick message stating that I was at the Bloom and asking him to meet me. I was about to crumble the leaf when it occurred to me that it would probably be polite to mention something about the bouquet he’d sent. I scratched out I got the roses. They are but then I paused, tapping the leaf with the quill. Finally I finished with pretty, which sounded rather pathetic, but I’d already written it. Signing the letter, I crumbled it to dust and let the particles float away.

  Just one letter left, but it was arguably the hardest. The last leaf I addressed to Kyran, usurper kingling of the nightmare realm. I’d met him only once, months ago, and he was . . . different. I had no real tie to him, and there was no reason beyond his own curiosity that he would agree to meet with me. Hopefully that was enough. As with my letter to Dugan, I wrote that I would be having dinner at the Bloom and asked him to meet me. Then I signed and crumbled the leaf. That done, I returned the quill and extra leaves to the cyclops before making a hasty retreat to the table where Holly and Caleb sat.

  The table had already been laid, full of golden loaves of corn bread, pitchers of what I could only guess was ale, and bowls of stew brimming with large chunks of meat, potatoes, and veggies. It wasn’t quite as grand a meal as I was accustomed to at the Bloom, but meals were served based on perceived rank, and neither Caleb nor Holly had much in the way of rank in Faerie. The waiters always laid out a feast when I was the first to the table. Honestly, it was awkward, and I was happy for the hearty stew.

  I sat down, helping myself to a generous portion of corn bread. Today’s waiter, a fae I couldn’t name the family of with an iridescent purplish tinge to his skin, hurried over with another bowl of soup and a tankard in his hands, but stopped short a few paces away.

  “I’ll bring something more suitable,” he said, starting to turn.

  I held up a hand. “The stew looks great.”

  The fae waiter looked down at the bowl on his tray before pointing his three-fingered hand back over his shoulder. “It would only take me a moment to—”

  “I’d like the stew,” I said, cutting him off before he could scurry away. Holly pressed a hand over her mouth, and I got the distinct impression she was hiding a smile under her fingers.

  The waiter wavered, glancing toward the kitchen—or whatever they called the area where food was prepared. It certainly wasn’t cooked, and actually, it was a little questionable if it was food or not. Faerie food was both real and not real. I wasn’t completely sure what it started out as, but if you tried to remove it from Faerie, it turned into toadstools, which quickly rotted away. But inside Faerie it was tasty and filling.

  For a moment I thought I was going to have to either let the waiter retrieve a feast or cause a scene by demanding he leave the stew, but after one more uncertain look over his shoulder, he conceded to setting the bowl on the table. He bowed as he did so, placing the tankard of ale beside the bowl.

  I had the urge to groan, but restrained myself, instead giving him a tight-lipped smile. Still bent in half, he backed away three steps before turning and hightailing it away.

  Now Holly did laugh. “Perhaps we should call you ‘Your highness.’”

  I tossed a piece of corn bread at her, which only made her giggle harder. I turned to Caleb. “Any way to make the fae here not react that way again? What gives; it didn’t seem this bad the last time I was here.”

  Caleb just shrugged. “Your fae mien is more obvious these days, and your glamour leaves something to be desired.”

  As in I didn’t have any glamour—not any I knew how to use properly at least. I had to work on that.

  “Sleagh Maith don’t socialize with us lowly independents much,” Caleb said, scooping a large chunk of meat onto his spoon.

  “So I’m descended from pretentious assholes, gotcha.” I sighed again, and then forced myself to focus on the stew, which was delicious but I was eating mindlessly. I might as well enjoy it. I didn’t eat Faerie food that often. Until recently I hadn’t realized I could. But it posed no threat to me.

  I’d polished off half my bowl when the waiter scurried over. I was honestly worried that he might try to whisk away the remainder of my soup and insist I let him lay out a banquet or something, but he just bowed and held out two large leaves.

  I accepted them gingerly, so I didn’t crush them, and almost thanked the waiter—some habits die hard. I stopped myself at the last moment, nodding at him instead. He hurried away, looking relieved to escape our table.

  “What’s that?” Holly asked, leaning forward to peer at the leaves.

  “Replies, I guess.”

  I read the first leaf. It was from Rianna, and the message was the same as her last. It read only Hurry.

  “I’m trying,” I mumbled under my breath, crumbling the leaf.

  The second reply was from Dugan. It was considerably longer.

  While I would grant my betrothed any wish her heart desires, the location you have chosen is problematic. I do not have leave to pass freely through winter’s court. Meet me instead in the pocket space where we saw each other before. I will await you with great anticipation.

  –Dugan

  The pocket space from before? Great. Now I was going to have to see my father.

  • • •

  As the time spent inside the Bloom had little effect on the amount of time that passed in mortal reality, I put off leaving as long as possible, nursing my soup until Holly and Caleb threatened to leave without me. As I hadn’t driven, and it was after dark, that wasn’t an option I relished. Still, I was also waiting for one more reply, but if Kyran received my message, he didn’t write me back or meet me in the Bloom. The other issue was with the leaving of the Bloom in general. I felt pretty good during dinner, but I knew the effects of fading would crash back down on me the moment I stepped out the door.

  At least I was prepared for it this time, though I should have warned Caleb and Holly. I’d mentioned I was fading, but their concern as I all but stumbled down the front stairs of the Bloom made me feel even worse. I really needed to cement my tie to Faerie.

  I could join a court, a little voice said in the back of my mind. I was going to see the prince of the shadow court, after all. He’d surely have no qualms against taking me home to his court. But then who knew when I’d see my friends, my life, or hell, even the mortal realm, again.
The shadow court had no natural doors to mortal reality. I’d be stuck in Faerie—and I was damn near powerless in Faerie.

  The idea did not appeal to me. Besides, with Falin busy fighting the queen’s duels, I was the only one with ties to both Faerie and the mortal realm searching for the alchemist, and he had to be found before more Glitter hit the street.

  I called my father while Caleb drove. He answered on the second ring.

  “Alexis, since you’ve deigned to call me, should I assume this is an emergency?” His voice was flat, bored sounding, so I wasn’t sure if he was trying to make me feel guilty—hey, he cut me out of his life first—or if he honestly didn’t care one way or another.

  “No emergency, but I need a ride to your house.”

  As I spoke, I caught Caleb’s eyes flicker toward me in the rearview mirror. The look seemed to question why I hadn’t asked him for a ride. We were in the car already. I shot him an apologetic smile, but I didn’t explain. In truth, I’d considered having Caleb drop me off, but that came with its own slew of problems, the least of which was that I’d eventually need a ride back home, and closer to the top of the list: the fact that my father was currently the acting governor of Nekros whom no one knew I was related to. Oh yeah, and he was pretty much considered the biggest public enemy in Nekros to witches and fae. My life was complicated.

  My father said nothing for several moments. I imagined him sitting on the other side of the phone, fingers steepled as he waited for me to say more. I didn’t, not yet.

  “Alexis, you do realize the hour, do you not?”

  I hadn’t checked. It was after nine when we’d tossed rice at the newlyweds and Tamara and Ethan had driven away in a car Holly and I had decked out with the tackiest JUST MARRIED signs we could come up with. Caleb, Holly, and I had headed directly to the Bloom after that, as Holly hadn’t eaten at all today to ensure a tricky door didn’t cause her to miss Tamara’s wedding. Typically no time at all passed while inside the Bloom, but occasionally hours or even days slipped away. The latter had only happened to me once, thankfully, and that was before I’d known the importance of signing the ledger. Still, I was guessing at best it was about ten, and at worst sometime after midnight. Yeah, probably a little late for a visit, but it was what it was.