CHAPTER FIVE
SHAKESPEAREAN THINGS
“HE ASKED YOU and not me, so I fail to see how your question is relevant.”
I braced my elbows on the kitchen table and stared, not at Brian but at the long, tall, and cold glass of sweet tea in front of me. As a girl of the South, I am prepared to swear that iced sweet tea is our mascot. I drew my initials in the dewy condensation coating it. “That last book you made me read can be boiled down to ‘every single thing is relative.’”
“That’s what you got out of it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Good. That was, indeed, the lesson. It will apply, later on, to sympathetic magic if you wish to study it—”
“Which means that my question is. Relevant,” I added.
“Ah. Well, then, my answer is no. I don’t care to get involved.”
“Professor, your mouth is writing checks that Brian’s going to have to cash some day.”
“Are you suggesting I’m leaving my future self with karma that must be paid?”
“Actually, he’s your present self. Go look in the mirror. And yes, Brian is going to have to deal.”
“He’ll be equipped.”
I shook my head. “Not if you burn all his friendship bridges first. And besides, you’re just sulky because Hiram didn’t ask you first.”
“I am not sulking.”
“And you don’t even know what he asked me to do. I should think you’d be curious.” I took a satisfying gulp, eying him over the glass. He reached for reading glasses he no longer wore and settled for brushing hair out of his eyes and glaring at his hand.
He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before looking back at me. “I do admit to being curious.”
“Listening won’t commit you. But you might know something that I need to know.”
“That is true. My experience in life far exceeds yours.”
“By several centuries.”
He pursed his lips. “At least. All right. Talk away.”
Now it seemed to be my turn to squirm a bit. The professor guessed he’d had a listener to at least part of a private conversation those long months ago, but we’d never discussed it. I tapped a finger on the table. “I think it starts with Mortimer and Goldie.”
“But you’re not certain.”
“No. I mean, there’s a lot of history with people like Morty that I didn’t even know existed. But Goldie was taken—”
“She disappeared.”
“Morty told you she was abducted.”
“He may not have wanted to believe the truth.” The professor watched me steadily with Brian’s guileless face, but the eyes held a shrewd glint to them. Narrowed, even, as I admitted I’d eavesdropped on him, at least the once. His mouth tightened.
“I’ll give you that one. I may find out more when I investigate—”
“You’re not getting involved with the harpies!” His professorial voice rose.
“It may be part of the job.”
“They killed Mortimer.”
“Yeah, and as far as I saw, he dealt a pretty mortal blow in return. I don’t want to wade into that mess, but it seems to be part of the problem. An object is missing. They may have it or know where it went, so I need to know how to contact them.”
“I don’t think I’ll be telling you that. Maybe you’ll have better luck with Carter or Steptoe.” His tone of voice suggested that I wouldn’t, not if he got to them first and warned them off. I etched another initial into the side of my glass.
“I know at least one of them will not only want to give me information but will come along with me. I’m certain Steptoe will be as interested in the Eye of Nimora as Hiram is, and the Iron Dwarves want it back. That’s where the harpies come in.”
The professor sat back in his chair, stunned. “It’s missing?”
“Yup. Evidently, that’s the cause of the trouble in the clans at the moment. It was the dowry for Germanigold, and she either took it with her when she was kidnapped or told someone where to find it or . . . well, that’s what I have to find out.”
“Bride price? Oh, Morty. My dear, foolish, lovestruck old friend.” The professor hung his head down, in mourning.
“Not so foolish. The marriage allied two tribes together and rather successfully for . . . how long were they married?”
“Three short decades.”
I mentally tried to age Hiram in my mind as the son from Mortimer’s first marriage, and couldn’t and gave up. Everyone involved in magic seemed to have a phenomenal lifeline. You would have thought the opposite would be true. “From my point of view, that’s not shabby.”
“Pifff.” He straightened up. “You’re positive it’s the Eye of Nimora?”
“Egg-sized. Ruby red. Missing. Truth seeing or something like that. Needed for trials.” I ticked them off on my fingers.
“That would be it. Although its usage is not widely known and you should not be disseminating that information.” He got up abruptly and went to the fridge to pour his own glass of tea. “He has no business involving you in tracking it down.”
“All I need to know is how to find the harpies.”
“You’re going to the nest?”
“If that’s where I’ll find them, then, yes, that’s where I’m going.”
He added some sugar to a tea that was already sweet enough that the spoon could stand by itself straight up in the glass, and made a bit of noise stirring it in. “I have to go with you.”
“I doubt they’ll let you in. They seem to have this Amazon thing going on.”
“True. I’ll stay in the car, but I’ll be prepared to help if you need it.”
“How far are you going with me?”
He gulped down half his drink. “All the way, if necessary. I wouldn’t mind seeing the Eye of Nimora for myself before we, ah, return it. If we find it and survive.”
“That’s the spirit!” I beamed at him and finished the last sip of my drink just as the side door clattered and Mom yelled, “I’m home!”
We both went suspiciously quiet as she entered the house.
Realizing even the hobbits had a fellowship considerably larger than two participants, I mulled over my options about other arms I could twist to join my endeavor. Simon would jump at it, but I had to consider that his self-interest would probably come first, although he’d been helpful in the past. I thought him trustworthy, but the professor and Carter disagreed with me, and I couldn’t exactly blame them. Minions of Steptoe had frightened and pressured the professor into making a hasty escape via fire and put him into this predicament in the first place. Neither party had confessed to me the reasons for the unfortunate misunderstanding, but I’d find out, sooner or later. As Shakespeare used to say, the Truth Will Out. Or maybe I’d just find the Eye of Nimora and take a look for myself. A few minutes with a relic like that might possibly straighten out several puzzles in my current life.
Carter would be the most difficult because he held a full-time job, but then, I kept nearly full-time student hours, so I wouldn’t be out at all times of the day or night anyway. His hours seemed a bit more problematic. He didn’t work eight to five, or even night shift, anymore but had gone into an undercover operation he wouldn’t discuss. It left him often with batches of time and just as frequently with no time at all. He wouldn’t be much happier than the professor about what I’d promised to do, but he’d understand when I explained the opportunity it would give my mother to earn the price Hiram had quoted for the job. Wouldn’t he? He’d been on our case from the beginning when we finally reported Dad missing, and I knew he’d kept watch on me when he could. He’d been little more than a rookie then, fresh out of the police academy and home from the Middle East, and now he was an officer, making his way up the ranks very quickly. I’d like to think it’s because our city recognizes a good man when they see one, but I could be very naïve about politics. The Society had placed him as a liaison, of sorts, so he held a position created specifically just for him without anyone in the police being aware of the politics. He knew we needed the money. He’d understand the lure of the job.
I’d appeal to that goodness when I saw him, hoping it would be soon. I admit to crushing on him, despite our age difference, but he’d never led me to believe he’d noticed it or would take advantage of it. In another year or so, that gap wouldn’t be so noticeable and I’d throw myself at him and hope he would catch me. Evelyn was of the opinion that I shouldn’t wait, and she might be right, but I’d had enough of guys who would offer me a pity date and then ask for benefits that were never implied or offered! I would bide my time with Carter.
So if I could depend on Carter and Steptoe, and I didn’t even have to ask Simon because he generally went where the rest of us did, that made four of us for the investigation, three with considerable magic weight. Add in my maelstrom shield and awesome bracers, and we should be able to get the job done. Probably.
“Are you kidding me?” Carter asked, one hand full of carry-out coffee cup and the other with a card in an envelope, as I met him in the front yard, the sun slanting low over the roofs. “You’re putting together a team? A team for what?”
“It’s my job to ask the questions. Are you in or are you out?”
“With this group? I don’t join until I know what’s going on. So.” He fell in step with me. “What’s going on?”
“I got a job offer, and it’s a really good one, and if I complete it successfully, I’ll earn enough money that Mom can take time off and finish her dissertation, so it’s important and I need your help.”
“What kind of job takes a team, especially one like ours?”
“It’s a recovery. For Hiram.”
“For—oh, no. You are not going after the Eye of Nimora.”
“You know it’s missing?”
“I do. In fact, it was the subject of the Society’s meeting last night. What surprises me is that you know.” He sipped. “I take that back. Obviously, Hiram told you. What pisses me off is that he asked you to recover it.”
“Oh, not recover. Just find.”
“Usually retrieval is involved in a case like this.”
I looked up at him speculatively. “That sounds as if it might make the whole job thing a bit more difficult.”
“Try impossible, and over my dead body.”
“But I’m counting on you! I’ve already got the professor and Steptoe.”
“Then they’re both in it for themselves, not you. Forgive me, Tessa, but neither of those two men is the charitable sort. I know you think well of them, but they have a background that stretches for centuries, and not an altruistic one. The professor probably thinks he can apply it to his current restoration problem, and Steptoe undoubtedly thinks he can make a profit on it after he uses it to blackmail a few select associates.”
“Cynic.”
“Realist. Which you need to develop if you’re going to dabble in my world.” He swirled his coffee before taking another hit.
“I don’t dabble, and I can’t help it if the stone dragged me in.”
“Oh, you were in up to your neck before that thing implanted itself in your hand. Look at the company you keep!”
I looked up at him through my eyelashes. “Does that mean you’re not going to help? If you’re the only one I can trust?”
“Any cake left?”
“Maybe a piece or two.”
“Good. I haven’t had anything but coffee all day and I need to think straight. Oh, and your birthday present is in my car.” He handed me the envelope and his car keys.
“Oooh! What is it?”
“It’s something which may or may not become yours.”
I blinked. “Then how is it my birthday present?”
“Well, it’s conditional. Go introduce yourself and we’ll see how you get along.”
“How I . . .” I shut up and marched myself to his car. There, sitting on the front seat, was a creamy yellow pup. Labrador, if I knew my dogs, and he wasn’t a small puppy, but a medium one, maybe already about four months old.
“A dog! You got me a dog!”
“Not necessarily.”
“You talked to Mom about it?”
“I did, and she said yes, provided you take care of it.”
The universal answer for all mothers. Our last dog had disappeared with my father, and I missed him dreadfully, but we’d made a pact not to get another dog, circumstances as they were. However, if she’d said “yes” to Carter, all bets were off.
I opened the car door and the pup swung around to look me steadily in the eyes. Not many dogs do that for long, as if they’re born to look away, but this guy didn’t.
“So what’s the story?”
“He’s a police recruit who didn’t work out.”
“Awwww. Sniffer no good?”
“No, he’s great at scents. It’s more his attitude.”
The dog and I watched each other. “Attitude? He’s not a coward, is he? Doesn’t look like he could be.”
“Well, he didn’t get good grades in aggression, but that’s not exactly it, either.”
Those big Labrador eyes gazed soulfully into mine as if waiting for me to say exactly the right thing. “He looks perfect to me.”
The dog sniffed once or twice, scenting me. For a Lab, though, he seemed terribly restrained. They were bounders, until trained and disciplined. Enthusiastic and playful. Energetic. This guy sat on the car seat like he was hatching eggs.
“What’s his name?”
“Scout. If the two of you don’t work out, I have a rescue that will take him until he finds a situation.” Carter stood behind me, waiting.
“Why wouldn’t we work out?”
“Long story, we don’t know why he hasn’t bonded with anyone. It’s as though he’s waiting for something or someone to come along, and then he’ll give his heart. Doesn’t matter what sex; we’ve had all sorts of trainers and officers work with him, and he’s stayed aloof.”
“Oh, that can’t be right. Look at his eyes. Who’s a good dog? You, that’s who. You don’t have to wonder if you’ll ever find out. You’re a good boy, Scout.”
The dog whined slightly and moved from the passenger seat to the driver seat. I put my hand on his head and rubbed one of his ear flaps. Scout wriggled and put his nose into my maelstrom hand. He gave a chuff as if he smelled something not quite right.
“I know,” I told him. “That’s a little off, but I think it’s temporary. At least I hope it is, and the rest of me is pretty normal.”
He surged forward suddenly, butting his head into my chest and leaning into me, making small puppy noises as if very happy to have been found after having been left alone all day.
“And there it is,” Carter said.
And so it was.