Page 54 of Made

While Diarmuid was adding way too much sugar to his cup, I filled him in on the scant facts thus far established.

“All we know is that Esme was taken by two females with shaved heads, dressed like Buddhist nuns in saffron robes.” I let my voice trail off, knowing that the rest was fashion minutia. But it needed to be said, even if no one else thought it relevant. “Saffron robes with baby pink panels.”

“Baby pink, like for girl babies?” Diarmuid asked.

“Well, it does sound like a coincidence, but I don’t think Esme’s abduction is related to Rhiannon. If that’s what you were thinking.” The king shrugged. “It was a good thought, though.”

I dialed Olivia, but got no answer. I tried Fie.

“Magistrate. What a nice surprise to get a call in the middle of the night,” he said. It was a polite way of leaving no room for doubt that he’d prefer daytime phone calls.

“Fie. I’m looking for Olivia. Well, actually, I need to get hold of Dolan, but he doesn’t have a phone.”

“I believe I can relay a message to Olivia. What does Dolan need to know?”

“The horse that was in The Hallows’ display window isn’t there anymore. I don’t know if that means the window is broken or not because I’m still at John David’s. But perhaps someone needs to see to it?”

What a marvel it was to live in a place where people don’t question such things. Without missing a beat, he said, “Consider it done.”

“Thanks, Mayor. I owe you one.” I’d paused for no longer than a millisecond before remembering that, as magistrate, I’m ethically and procedurally obligated to avoid favors.Uh-oh.“Wait. I didn’t mean that.”

He chuckled, said, “I know,” and ended the call.

I rose to pour myself a coffee, wishing I had one of Evie’s special Americanos. As I gripped the handle of the silver pot, Jarvis appeared like magic.

“Allow me, madam,” he said.

I took my cup, sat, and looked around at the small gathering: Keir, Kagan, John David, Diarmuid, Jarvis, and me. Since no one seemed to have anything constructive to offer, I decided to jump in.

“I need to reach Max.”

“Maxfield Pteron?” Diarmuid asked.

“Yes. He has direct connections with people who might know something.”

“Aye,” Diarmuid said. “’Tis true.”

“Who knows how to reach him?”

“Lochlan,” Keir said.

“Of course,” I said. “I don’t like the idea of disturbing people in the middle of the night. But it’s Esme.”

Kagan released the hair he’d been trying to pull out by the roots and got to his feet. “I’ve no issue with wakin’ the bloody blaggard.”

Like most males, he functioned best with something to do, but Keir reached out to stop him. “Let Rita see if she can raise the clerk by phone. If not, I’ll go. We’ve been acquainted for a long time at work, and now as neighbors. He’ll take a late-night visit better coming from me.”

Kagan didn’t argue, but took up pacing in the back of the room. It was a vast improvement over hairpulling.

I was both surprised and relieved when Lochlan answered my call. He sounded sleepy. Given the lateness of the hour that was to be expected. Even magic kind like to check out once a cycle.

“Magistrate?” he said with a thick tongue in need of hydration.

“Lochlan. I know it’s late, but we have a situation.”

I did a fairly good job of condensing events, if I do say so myself.

“I see.” During my retelling of events, he’d come considerably more awake. “Contacting the Bureau’s chief representative isn’t normally done on a moment’s notice. But I’ll certainly try. Poor Esme.”