Chapter 14

Falin didn’t return that night. I should have been happier about that fact; after all, that meant I had my small overhouse apartment all to myself for the first time in nearly a month, but really it just made me anxious as I kept expecting the door to open. It also meant I didn’t get any answers about what else he may have discovered at the crime scene.

I considered checking in at the office the next morning, but it was Sunday so we had no posted hours for the day, plus Ms. B and Rianna were holding up in Faerie to conserve energy. The response Rianna had sent me last night hadn’t been encouraging, mostly because it had consisted of only one word. Hurry. I had to get my link to Faerie, and fast.

I had other reasons to find the alchemist as well. If he was really behind the creation and distribution of Glitter, he had to be stopped before more vials of the drug hit the streets or more fae died under his phlebotomy tools. I had only a handful of hours before I needed to meet Holly and start getting ready for Tamara’s wedding, but I couldn’t waste them. It would help if I could track down the distributors in the mortal realm and then follow that line back to the alchemist. But I couldn’t just sit around hoping the satyr from the Bloom called. The hobgoblin he’d mentioned was my only lead, but it was also possible he wasn’t involved. Even if he was, who knew when he’d show up at the bar next, especially with Glitter being all over the news. How much time did I have before I faded so far I wouldn’t be able to stay in the mortal realm? I needed to be proactive. The problem was, I had no idea how to investigate a drug ring. But I knew someone who did.

Grabbing my phone, I called the front desk at Central Precinct. I confirmed John was in today, but declined to be transferred to his private line. He probably wasn’t too happy with me right now, and hanging up a phone was easy. I’d be way harder to dismiss in person.

•   •   •

John frowned at me from across his desk. I hadn’t even said anything yet—just sat down.

“Alex, if you’re here about yesterday’s murder scene, there isn’t anything I can tell you. We handed over everything we had on it to the FIB already.”

I smiled, trying to look innocent and disarming. John’s expression didn’t change and he closed the file he’d been scanning when I walked in.

“It’s connected, but not directly. I need guidance. You worked narcotics before homicide, right?”

John cocked one bushy eyebrow before giving me a single curt nod. That was apparently as good as I was getting from him. I rushed on.

“Well, I need to track down who is making Glitter, but I’m not sure where to start. I know the kids from yesterday got their hands on it, and I know it’s being manufactured in Faerie—”

“So you said. I’d like to know how you know that.”

Now it was my turn to frown. I hadn’t actually been oath bound to refrain from talking about Icelynne and the circumstances of her death, but that didn’t mean I wanted to recklessly piss off the queen by discussing court business. The drug, while connected, was tertiary to that case. Still . . . “I was hired by the winter court to look into a case that involved the drug,” I said after what was probably too long of a pause.

“And now you’re looking for the manufacturer? No offense, but that not only doesn’t sound like your kind of case, but you’re in way over your head. You’re excellent at raising shades. Stick to that.”

He’d given me that particular advice before. It hurt no less this time. If my actual father had said as much, I wouldn’t have cared. But coming from John, the man who’d encouraged me to go through with getting my PI license in the first place, who’d encouraged me to open Tongues for the Dead, and who’d connected me with my retainer position with the NCPD—yeah, it stung. A lot.

But it wasn’t like I had time to cross my arms over my chest and pout. John didn’t know I was fae, and with the current strife in our relationship, I wasn’t feeling particularly willing to share. That also meant he didn’t know my precarious position of lacking any tie to Faerie or the urgent reason I had to solve this case and find the alchemist.

I didn’t bother forcing a smile, but I did lean back slightly in my chair, trying to look relaxed. And as if I wasn’t going anywhere. “So have the narcotics guys interviewed any of the other kids from the dance? Did they find anyone else who saw the dealer?”

“I told you. That case was handed off to the FIB,” he said, but his eyes darted to his half-full coffee cup as he spoke.

“Yeah, you guys handed off the murder case,” I said, putting my hands on the arms of the chair and leaning in toward him. “But you can’t tell me you guys aren’t looking into the drug connection.”

He huffed, still not meeting my eyes. Which was pretty much a yes.

“So the kids? Surely Bruce wasn’t the only one approached with the drug.” Though I hoped that if anyone else had accepted, that they hadn’t used it and had heeded the warnings about the danger. “Did you get more information on the dealer?”

John finally looked up, his blue eyes were tired, the wrinkles around them deeper than I remembered. I’d never thought about it before, but John was probably getting close to retirement age, and it was starting to show. He ran a hand over his bald spot before letting his fist fall limply to the top of his desk.

“Narcotics investigations aren’t as . . . straightforward as murder investigations. In murder you examine the body, the scene, and gather what information you can. Then you talk to the friends, the family. You find out who wanted to kill the person, who had motive and opportunity. And hopefully, at the end of the day, you get a confession or have enough evidence to nail the suspect in a trial.”

He picked up the file he’d been studying before I entered. He tapped the edge of it against his desk, not opening it. “Narcotics tends toward long-term investigations. You bust someone low on the pole, usually a user. You get them to give you information on their dealer. Maybe you turn them, or maybe you use an undercover to do some buys and then you bust the street dealer, but these are still the little guys. They might be carrying three hundred dollars’ worth of product on them at any time. You try to work them back to their source. This guy’s the real dealer. If you’re lucky, he’s the one cooking the drugs, but usually, he’s still a middle man. Oh, he might be the local ‘drug lord’ but he’s getting the drugs shipped in from somewhere else—especially if it’s being run by a gang. Anyway, getting to him isn’t easy. You need probable cause for a warrant and you want to bust him when he has a large stash you can put him away with. It takes surveillance, maybe even getting a man inside, and once you do have the warrant, a raid. You’re talking weeks, months, sometimes even years of police work to get that far, and even then, you don’t necessarily know where the drugs are coming from.” He frowned at the file.

I chewed at my bottom lip. I didn’t doubt anything he was telling me, but I didn’t have that kind of time to wait on the cops, and I certainly didn’t have the resources or knowledge to do it on my own. “So how far have your guys gotten?”

“Alex, we found out about all this yesterday. We haven’t scratched the surface. We’ve got a rough sketch of the dealer based on the shade’s description, and we’ve tracked down and questioned a couple of kids who were at the dance, but no one is saying anything.”

I sighed and pushed out of the chair. “I suppose if I ask if there is anything I can do to help . . . ?”

“That I’ll tell you to go home.” He gave me a look that said it wasn’t a hypothetical suggestion.

I nodded and grabbed my purse, but I paused at the door. “John, it’s important I find this guy. Like life-and-death important. Just . . . just give me a call if you can.”

I didn’t stay and press him. It wouldn’t help, I knew that. Without waiting for him to sputter something about police business or ongoing cases, I left.

•   •   •

By the time I reached my house, I was more than a little discouraged. I’d heard nothing from the satyr at the Bloom, which, as it was fairly early in the day, was not surprising, but I realized I didn’t even know when he’d be bartending next. For all I knew he was required to work only once or twice a week. I hadn’t heard from Falin either. I’d taken a taxi back to yesterday’s crime scene to retrieve my car, and I was sure he’d be at my place by the time I drove home, but when I pulled up to the house, the driveway was empty.

But my porch wasn’t empty.

I stopped, my foot frozen above the bottom step leading to my rented room. A tall figure stooped in front of my door, something long and wrapped in black paper in his arms. Whatever the object was, I couldn’t tell if he’d been in the process of picking it up or putting it down when I’d mounted the steps, but he straightened when he heard me, turning to face the stairs.

Ryese grinned down at me from the landing in front of my door. The bright sunlight caught in his hair, making it glisten like crystal refracting light and spilling prisms of color around his face. The effect was blinding. I frowned at him and briefly considered turning and getting back in my car, but I wasn’t going to be driven away from my own home. Not more than I already had been, anyway.

I took the stairs at a slow, but deliberate pace. While I didn’t relish seeing the fae, and I was more than a little unsure about what his presence at my home meant, I didn’t want him to see me frightened. Still, it took everything I had not to draw my dagger as I climbed the last few steps.

“Lexi, dearest,” he said, opening his arms as if he’d sweep me into an embrace.

I stopped, out of arm’s reach, and glanced at what he carried. The long, paper-wrapped object turned out to be the largest bouquet of roses I’d ever seen. Black roses at that, mixed with sprigs of delicate baby’s breath. It was a striking contrast.

“What’s that?” I nodded at the roses.

Ryese glanced down as if he’d forgotten about the flowers. Then he shot me a sheepish smile. No, not sheepish, guilty.

“This? Nothing. I—” He swung the bouquet over the porch rail as if he intended to drop it.

I stepped forward and grabbed the paper-wrapped roses. Something about the whole situation was off. Not like a trap, though if that thought had entered my mind a moment earlier I probably would have hesitated long enough for him to toss the bundle, but the resounding thought in my head was that black really wasn’t Ryese’s color. He tended to deck himself out in so much white it was blinding. And the queen favored things dusted in ice or snow.

Ryese scowled as I rescued the roses, but quickly covered the expression with a blatantly insincere smile. “Shall we linger in doorways like a couple of peasants?” he asked, gesturing toward my door.

I ignored him and fished the card from among the roses.

FOR MY LOVELY BETROTHED.

There was no signature, but with that message, it didn’t really need one. Dugan had been here.

I tucked the card back into the bouquet, careful to keep my expression schooled to neutral. Now that I knew for certain where it had come from, I couldn’t care less if the roses ended up tossed in the trash—or over the rail—but Ryese was watching, his expression dark, and I didn’t want to show my hand. I had no doubt he’d report back to the Winter Queen on whatever I did. He may or may not know who had sent the roses, but I doubted he’d missed the word “betrothed” on the card.

So, I kept my features neutral as I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Then I had a moment of uncertainty. Theoretically I should put the roses in a vase of water or something. But I didn’t own a vase. I wasn’t really a flowers kind of girl. I settled for placing the still-wrapped bouquet on the counter before turning back to Ryese, who, no real surprise, had followed me in.

“What do you want?”

“Lexi, Lexi, Lexi, is that any way to treat your beloved?”

I cocked an eyebrow—I’d been practicing and I was damn good at it now. He was most certainly not my beloved. Hell, he wasn’t even my “beliked.”

When I just crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him, he coughed quietly and turned away. His attention settled on PC, who normally greeted my guests, but was standing a careful distance away from Ryese, sniffing. Smart dog.

“That is one ugly mutt,” Ryese said, shaking his head.

My fists clenched, heat lifting to my face. “You’re not endearing yourself here.”

He glanced up and shot me a quick smile. I never realized a smile could look quite so hateful.

“Dearest Lexi, I am simply here to see how you are doing on your little case. I thought you might need some help, especially since the knight is otherwise engaged.”

I opened my mouth to turn him away and then closed it. I did need help. But could I trust anything that came from him? Well, I guess he wasn’t really any less trustworthy than Falin: both would be reporting back to the queen. But it was certainly a less appealing offer.

And speaking of Falin . . . “What do you mean ‘otherwise engaged’?”

His smile spread, lips parting in a gleefully malicious grin. “Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t know. He’s been dueling.”

He said it casually, turning as he spoke and wandering around my small space.

“Dueling?”

He stopped in front of my dresser, leaning in to examine the pictures surrounding the edges of my mirror.

“Oh yes. Between the recent, high-profile fae-related crimes in winter court territory and the . . . rumors. Well, let’s just say some aren’t terribly confident in my aunt currently. Which means she’s received several challenges for her throne. Of course, all challengers have to duel her knight first, so he’s rather busy.”

The blood drained from my face. While I wasn’t a fan of the queen and didn’t care if she lost her throne, Falin fighting everyone lining up to challenge her didn’t sound good. He was a spectacular fighter, but he wasn’t invincible and each challenger would be coming to him fresh while he’d still be recovering from the previous.

Ryese turned, his eyes twinkling as he took in my expression. “So, you see, there is a lot of interest in your progress. What have you learned?”

If I’d had something—anything—I’d have told him then. But I didn’t know anything. I was floundering.

I moved like a sleepwalker across my room and sank onto the edge of my bed. Damn this alchemist. How the hell was I going to find him? And now Falin was in the winter court fighting the queen’s duels.

“Going that well?” Ryese asked as he leaned against the dresser. Why the hell did he always smile so much? He didn’t mean the smiles. Wasn’t that a kind of lie?

I didn’t stand, but I forced myself straighter, trying not to look like I was shrinking in on myself, even though that was how I felt. “The alchemist is making a drug. I don’t know why. It’s killing mortals with nightmares or hallucinations. I’m working on a lead tracking down a hobgoblin who might be involved.”

Ryese tapped his chin with one long finger. “A hobgoblin you say? Anything else?”

I cast around for any other strands I had to follow, but it was too early in the investigation. I just didn’t have anything.

After my silence stretched, Ryese nodded. “Well, then, I think I will return to court to pass on this rather distressing news. You are, of course, welcome to join me.”

I shook my head. I had even less idea of how to go about tracking down the alchemist in Faerie than I did here in a realm where I at least understood the rules. I’d likely have to take my investigation there eventually, but right now I’d likely just end up dead or trapped if I started blindly poking about Faerie. For now I’d keep looking for the Glitter connection here.

Ryese shrugged, taking my silence for refusal. “If you change your mind . . .”

My phone rang, cutting him off as Annabella Lwin proclaimed her want for candy. Holly’s ringtone.

I shooed Ryese toward the door as I dug the phone out of my purse and answered. From the background roar of wind it was obvious wherever Holly was calling from, she was driving.

“You going to be ready in about an hour?”

Ready? I glanced at the clock. More time had passed than I thought. I had to get ready for the wedding. Hair and makeup we’d all work on together, but— “Shoes. I don’t have shoes for the wedding yet.”

“Seriously? Alex, okay, I’m turning around. I’ll be there in twenty.”

I hastily agreed before hanging up. I started toward the closet before realizing Ryese still hovered by my front door.

“Out,” I said, pointing at the door.

He lifted his hands as if surrendering, but made no move to leave. “Big day?”

I considered saying yes and leaving it at that, but if he’d read Dugan’s card he would already be reporting back that I was theoretically betrothed. He likely guessed it was to someone in another court. If the queen thought my marriage into a rival court was imminent . . . who knew what she might do.

“I’m a bridesmaid. Now leave so I can get ready.”

Ryese pursed his lips, and for a moment I thought he was going to refuse to get out of my house. Then he gave me an elaborate—and dare I say, mocking—bow complete with intricate hand flourish, before ducking out the door.

There’d been no other car in the driveway, so I wasn’t sure how he’d get back to the court, but I hoped he’d be off my porch and out of my yard before Holly arrived. In the meantime, I gathered the pathetic collection of makeup I owned, the hairpiece Tamara had given me as a bridesmaid gift, and the dress. Then I went on a mad search for panty hose.