All I could do was stare at Oanen. Love? That was big. I’d known how he felt about me, but I hadn’t thought we were to the saying it stage. Saying it was one step closer to white picket fences and babies.
Swallowing hard, I fought the stomach bile rising at the thought of kids. I didn’t have my own shit together yet. I couldn’t be responsible for someone else. Not for years. And maybe even more years after that.
“Megan, it’s getting warm in here,” Oanen said. “Why does telling you that I love you make you panic?”
“Can we please not talk about this right now?”
He studied me for a moment.
“You’re right. This isn’t the place. We’ll talk about it tonight.”
That did not make me feel any better.
He started the car then carefully pulled into traffic. It took over thirty minutes to reach the warehouse and another ten to find the home of the second troll.
“Who found the body?” I asked, desperate to break the silence as we walked inside the run-down building. “And why just leave him here? Wasn’t there a chance a human could stumble across him?”
“This troll had family who found him. They’re with him now.”
Oanen knocked and the door immediately opened.
“He’s in the bedroom,” the troll said, moving aside.
Given my knowledge of trolls, I expected one or two surly relatives. This guy had at least twenty glaring behemoths crammed into a very human-sized apartment.
Oanen took my hand and led the way through the room. I didn’t mind his hold this time. My skin crawled with the need to ask the younger troll with the twin black eyes what he’d done.
Only the dead troll waited in the bedroom. He lay on the bed, the mattress bowing under his weight. The smile on his face seemed so out of place after passing through a living room full of scowls.
Oanen released my hand, and I wandered around the room, opening the closet, looking out the window, under the bed.
“I don’t know what we’re looking for, but I’m pretty sure it’s not here,” I said, straightening.
Oanen lifted his gaze from his study of the troll.
“You’re right,” he said.
A shadow filled the doorway behind him a moment before the boy who needed a beating stepped forward. I moved around the bed, but Oanen blocked me. Setting my head against his back, I closed my eyes and listened while trying to ignore my growing anger.
“He knew it was coming,” the young troll said.
“Knew what was coming?” Oanen asked.
“His death.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I got into some trouble a few weeks back. News spreads fast here. Especially with the old timers. Gramps caught wind and beat me for it. A fair punishment. Better than I’d get from you or the fury I hear is in town. I didn’t hate him for it. But, he thought I did. He called me the night before last. Told me he loved me. Shocked me stupid.”
“That seems to be a theme today,” I mumbled.
Oanen reached back and set his hand on my thigh. Just a simple touch, but it let me know he wasn’t mad about my reaction to his declaration.
“Gramps told me to use my head and follow the laws because he wouldn’t always be around to watch out for me. Then he hung up. I came by this morning with some goat to let him know we were okay. I found him like this.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Oanen said. “Thank you for sharing what happened with us. You mentioned a fury in town. Any idea where we can find her?”
“No. You know how they work. They can be anywhere.”
That made furies sound like the damn boogeyman for supernatural creatures.
Steps shuffled away, and I lifted my head from Oanen’s back.
“You all right?” he asked as he faced me.
“Yeah. But, I’ll need you to hold my hand on the way out. Whatever that kid did, I want to give him a second beating for it.”
No one talked to us as we left, and Oanen didn’t release my hand until we reached the car. Anger still poked at me, though. Not from the troll several stories up but from the man walking down the sidewalk.
Oanen’s phone chirped as he opened the door for me. I quickly got in and clasped my hands in my lap as Oanen closed the door. The man looked at me through the window, his dark eyes assessing.
Oanen looked up from his phone.
“Keep moving.”
I almost grinned at Oanen’s possessive tone of voice. Almost. Until I remembered what he’d said last night and just after breakfast.
He waited until the man moved on then went around to his side of the car.
“Please tell me that text had an answer to the smiling troll riddle,” I said as he got in.
“No. I had my dad check to see who owned the building you were in last night. The city. Which doesn’t help.”
“Seriously, Oanen. I don’t think whatever was on that burger was meant for me.”
“And I don’t think it’s a coincidence you were dosed with something at the same place that the two trolls, who are now dead, liked to frequent.”
“Well, when you put it that way, no, it doesn’t sound like a coincidence.”
He started the engine and turned around to head back the way we’d come.
“Not to rock the boat, but if getting drugged at the Gizzard is the commonality here, why aren’t I dead with a smile on my face?”
His grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“Think about it,” I said. “We were there last night, and that troll wasn’t.”
“We don’t know that.”
“So we need to go back to the Gizzard and ask.”
“Exactly.”
We parked a block from the bar and walked the distance in silence. Once again, the atmosphere of downtrodden old people welcomed us when we opened the door. Only this time, the wickedness crawled under my skin as soon as I stepped inside.
With his hand on my back, Oanen steered me toward the bar. The same bartender from the night before came to ask us what we wanted. While I felt anger toward many of the patrons, I didn’t feel much for him.
“I want to know what that grey-green powder was on the bacon last night,” I said, taking a stool.
“There’s no powder on any of the food. Just grease and salt,” the man said.
“She ate a bacon cheeseburger here and woke up somewhere else. We need to know what happened,” Oanen said.
The bartender studied us for a moment, then the creatures sipping their drinks at the bar, before waving us toward the side door. I glanced at Oanen, and he shrugged and took my hand.
No one paid us much attention as we went to the door. The bartender waited for us just inside the hall coming from the kitchen. Instead of turning that way, the man went to an office to the right.
“I have cameras,” he said without preamble. “Five in the main bar, one in the hall, two in the kitchen, and one in this office.” He pointed to the monitor on the desk showing nine frames. “The system keeps two months of live feed then purges every ten seconds of video, leaving still frames for six months beyond that. Help yourself.”
Oanen sat in the chair and, within a few clicks, had rewound then paused the video to the point where I sat at the bar the night before.
“Has anyone new been coming around?” Oanen asked.
“The odd fellow in the cloak started showing up a few weeks back.” The bartender tapped the screen on top of the guy who sat two stools from mine. “Comes every night. Has a drink or two. Talks to whoever’s at the bar. Then, he leaves.”
“Do you remember if he talked to either of these two trolls?” Oanen asked, pulling up the pictures of the dead, smiling trolls on his phone.
“I serve hundreds of drinks every night. Do you think I remember everyone?”
I had a hard time believing he sold that many drinks, given the meager crowd last night, but I managed to keep my doubt to myself.
Oanen diplomatically did the same and hit the play button. On screen, I watched the dragon turn toward me. Behind him, the cloaked man moved.
“Is there a different angle?” I asked, nudging Oanen.
He pulled up a different window synced at the same timeframe. We all watched the cloaked man reach over, lift the bun, and sprinkle something.
“Right on the damn bacon,” I mumbled.
The cloaked man left. The dragon did the same shortly after. I watched the bartender speak with me briefly before I started to eat the burger. Four bites in, I put the burger down and just walked out through the side door.
“I don’t remember doing that,” I said.
Oanen switched views to the hall outside the office. I went straight out the emergency exit without stopping.
“Did I seriously walk myself to that warehouse?”
“You were gone over three hours,” Oanen said. “It’s possible. It would explain why you were so cold, too.” He turned toward the bartender. “Any idea what he would have put on that burger or where we can find him?”
“I don’t know his name, but I can ask around. As for the powder, you might learn more at the Tabernam. I’ve never heard of anything that trances us.”
“Tabernam?” I asked.
“A place where any spell caster can find what they need,” Oanen said. He stood and looked at the bartender. “Put the word out that I’m looking for information.”
He gave the guy the address of our condo.
The smell of herbs, grass, and a hint of smoke filled the air as soon as we opened the door. I inhaled deeply and immediately felt more relaxed.
“I like this place,” I said, stepping into the store room filled with aisles of racks. Little bottles and baggies lay in neat rows on each shelf. Some had labels with weird names. Some just said “ask sales associate.”
“I’ll like this place if we can get some answers,” Oanen said.
“You go talk and do your thing, and I’ll look for the powder.”
“Not a chance. We stick together.”
I rolled my eyes and followed him down the center aisle toward the back where a woman stood at a register. She smiled as she watched us with her dark eyes. The curve of her red lips reminded me of a snake. Anger pooled in my stomach. I reached for Oanen’s hand to anchor myself. It didn’t help much.
He glanced at me and gave my hand a squeeze before turning to the woman.
“Hi. We’re looking for a grey-green powder that would put someone in a trance and possibly make them walk somewhere without remembering it.”
“I don’t sell spells. Only the ingredients to make them.”
“What are the ingredients, then?”
She walked around the counter and led the way to the far-left corner. Everything there was labeled with “ask sales associate.” A shiver of disquiet raced through me when I saw a bag half filled with deep green powder.
“It’s not safe to dabble with things you don’t understand,” she said, looking at Oanen.
“Do you tell all your customers that?”
“Only the ones who don’t look like they have a clue.”
“I need a list of names. Everyone who purchased the ingredients needed to work the spell I mentioned.”
One side of her mouth lifted in a wry smile.
“I don’t ask names. Just for this reason. Anonymity keeps this place in business.”
Oanen released my hand and crossed his arms.
“The Council allows a business to continue only through the cooperation of its owner when problems arise.”
Her smile faded.
“I don’t have any names to give you.”
“What do you have?”
The bell above the door chimed. Through the aisles, I caught sight of a cloaked figure walking in.
“Excuse me,” the woman said. She quickly headed toward the new arrival.
“Is that the person from the bar?” Oanen asked.
I shook my head. The vibrant red of this cloak couldn’t have been further from the dark grey of the cloak from the night before. That, and boobs were filling out the front of it.
“No. It was a man with a dark beard. Not as old as the rest of the crowd in the Gizzard, though.”
The saleswoman spoke softly to her new customer and led the woman to another area in the store, closer to us. The lower half of the woman’s face felt familiar to me, and I frowned as I strained to hear what they were saying.
“I think I know her,” I said softly to Oanen.
“You do?”
“I’m not sure.”
I pretended to browse the contents of the racks so I could move closer to the pair. The woman noticed and looked toward us. From behind me, Oanen quietly groaned.
The woman’s eyes rounded, and she pushed back her hood.
“Oanen?” she said. She walked to the end of the aisle. Oanen slowly did the same with me now trailing behind. Near the register, they both stopped.
I looked at Oanen, wondering how he knew the woman.
“Hello, Nicolette,” he said.
“Darling! It’s been too long. How is my baby?”
“Baby?” I said, fighting the strong stirring of jealousy that wanted me to rip her pretty blonde hair from her head.
“She means Eliana,” Oanen said, wrapping an arm around me. “Megan, this is Nicolette Barchim, Eliana’s mother.”
I looked at the woman again, seeing the resemblance. In the hair, nose, and mouth. She didn’t look old enough to be Eliana’s mom, though. Older sister, maybe.
“Megan?” she said. “Eliana has told me so much about you. I’m happy you arrived in Uttira when you did and relieved you were able to help her make some progress. That girl’s issues are enough to make a mother cry, which would destroy my complexion for at least an hour. Tell me how she is. How does she look? Are her curves coming in? Is she feeding enough?”
“I’ll go wrap this for you,” the saleswoman said, walking behind the counter.
Nicolette’s gaze pinged back and forth between Oanen and me as she waited for a response.
“Eliana is well,” Oanen said.
“Yeah. She’s a good friend.”
Nicolette smiled.
“I’m so glad to hear that. I thought that girl would never have a friend. Any lovers yet?”
I glanced at Oanen, unsure what to say. Eliana had told me enough about her mom to know that the woman had completely different methods for childrearing than I’d experienced with my mother.
“No lovers yet,” Oanen said. “But as I’m sure Adira has already reported, she has fed off a grown man and has been wearing more provocative dresses and makeup.”
She waved her hand.
“Yes, yes. I know that. I was hoping, living with her, you might have inside information that the starchy Council does not.” She stepped closer to Oanen, and he released me, gently nudging me behind him. The protective gesture made me smile.
However, all humor fled the moment she reached out and trailed a finger down his chest.
“If my bedroom were next to yours, there would be no question about whether we were lovers. Off limits always tastes the best.”
Jealousy hit me hard right between the eyes and rage quickly followed. I stepped around Oanen and grabbed her wrist.
She yelped, and her eyes turned black.
“You’re burning me,” she said. “Back off, fledgling.”
Oanen moved to stand behind me, our roles reversed. His arms wrapped around my waist, and he nuzzled the back of my head.
“I’m yours,” he said softly. “Always.”
Nicolette jerked her hand free and stared at me with her wide, black eyes. I let my anger show in mine, and her face lit with a soft orange glow.
“Don’t ever touch him again,” I said, my voice carrying a hint of the fury echo.
“This is interesting,” she said, her cheeks flushing from the heat I knew I was putting off. “A griffin and a fury. Tell me, dear. Does your mother know?”
It pissed me off that she wasn’t even showing a hint of fear or concern.
“I doubt it. My mom has been out of the picture since she left me in Uttira.”
Nicolette tsked.
“It’s a shame when our kind abandons their young. I would have never done that to Eliana if she hadn’t fought so hard to be allowed to develop her skills on her own.”
“Go, Nicolette,” Oanen said from behind me. “Now.”
Nicolette set some money on the counter, without looking away from us, and accepted her wrapped package from the shopkeeper.
“I’m sure I’ll see you around, Fury,” she said with a nod of her head. “Delicious to see you again, Oanen. Maybe next time I’ll get a taste.”
His arms tightened around me, keeping me from flying at her.
Her sultry laugh followed her out the door. I turned my angry gaze on the saleswoman. I could feel her nervousness and a hint of something wicked that wasn’t there a few moments ago.
“Do all your customers wear cloaks?” I asked.
“Only the ones who want to keep their identities secret,” she said.
I pulled Oanen’s arms free of my waist and stepped up to the counter. The woman cringed when I leaned toward her.
“No more secrets. Start taking names or you’ll be confessing whatever it is I’m sensing. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Fury.”
Oanen said nothing as I turned and stormed out of the shop. The cool winter air caressed my cheeks as I stood on the sidewalk with my eyes closed for a few minutes.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Eliana’s mother is—”
“A succubus,” he said. “And Eliana will be grateful you didn’t hurt her.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him.
“Are you sure about that?”
He shrugged and laced his fingers through mine, a hint of humor making his lips twitch.
“You hungry?”
“I could eat.”
Forty minutes later, we were seated in a diner whose patrons made my skin crawl. Nothing overwhelming, individually, just a whole lot of messed up, collectively. Based on the tingle that had raced over my skin walking through the door of the café, I knew it was another Mantirum-only establishment, which explained the overall whisper of wickedness. Eating somewhere else might have been more pleasant, but at least here we could talk freely.
“How are we supposed to find out what’s happening when no one seems to know anything?” I asked, opening a menu.
Oanen wasn’t the least bit put off by my surly attitude.
“We’ll find something soon. Word will spread that we’re looking for information. Between the bar and Tabernam, someone will have something for us.
A waitress stopped at our table and set two glasses of water down.
“Griffins never could see what was right in front of their faces,” she said. “The victims were all males and all trolls. What do you think would leave a troll with a smile on his face? And, I hear there’s a pregnant one in the city. You know what that means.”
She winked at me. Clueless, I looked at Oanen for an explanation as the waitress moved off.
“She’s talking about a succubus,” he said.
“You don’t think—”
“Eliana’s mom is responsible? I don’t know, but we need to find out.”
