Page 6 of Mystic Justice (The Other Detective #2)

Chapter Five

‘So,’ he started. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘About … us?’

He smiled. ‘Nice to know there is an “us”, but no. About the case.’

My cheeks warmed. ‘I’m thinking someone kidnapped and murdered a dryad,’ I said sarcastically.

‘Kate said the magic was off. If she’s right, I wonder if she’ll find runes on Moss Hollings.

’ Dark-magic practitioners drew on their victims’ magic by using their pain or life force to bolster their own.

If Moss’s magic was hinky, someone or something had interfered with it.

To my mind, that meant only one thing: witches.

‘You’re thinking black witches?’ Krieg asked.

‘Evil witches,’ Loki chimed in from a headrest in the back, his favourite spot in Krieg’s car.

‘Definitely evil,’ I agreed. ‘Murder by the light of the full moon? That tends to be an evil witch’s MO. They love a ritual.’ Technically, we were a couple of nights from the full moon, but we were certainly in the waxing gibbous phase and there was plenty of light to murder by.

I frowned. ‘But witches usually like a little more pain – the more pain their victim suffers, the greater the witches’ magical reward. There’s often a lot of blood spilt at a dark-magic killing and there wasn’t any here.’

‘Fear is also a factor in dark magic,’ Krieg pointed out, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. ‘Many fear death by drowning and if her fear was heightened, the magical boost would have been significant. There were two sets of footprints – but that doesn’t make a coven.’

‘No. Perhaps a male and a younger male acolyte? Or a male and a female?’

‘The second set of footprints were smaller and narrow,’ Krieg agreed. He waited a beat. ‘Elves use runes. Sometimes vampyrs do, too.’

‘True,’ I conceded, ‘but with vampyrs you’d still expect blood to be spilt.’

‘Blood everywhere,’ Loki said helpfully.

Krieg shook his head. ‘Blood in their stomachs. But there was no sign of blood being spilled so it’s likely we’re looking at witches or elves.’

‘We don’t even know if she was runed yet,’ I chided. ‘When Kate checked the lividity she didn’t see any runes and nor did I.’

‘There could have been invisible runes.’

Invisible runes were incredibly expensive compared to their visible counterparts because the potions required to paint them were far more expensive.

Unfortunately, almost any witch in any coven would have access to invisible rune potions.

If there were invisible runes, that didn’t narrow down the suspect pool a jot.

‘Or they might not have been there at all,’ I cautioned. ‘You can’t become fixated on a single theory. All we know is that someone drowned Moss Hollings.’

‘Why?’

I grinned at him suddenly. ‘Now you’re thinking like a cop.’

‘There’s no need to be insulting,’ Krieg said mildly, making me snicker. Loki burst into squawks of laughter.

Krieg ignored us both and rubbed his bottom lip thoughtfully. ‘Both hands on the wheel,’ I warned.

A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. ‘Or what? You’ll cuff me?’

The thought of the hugely powerful man in cuffs before me temporarily short-circuited my brain.

I coughed and hoped he’d mistake my fake choking fit for the reason my cheeks had turned bright red.

He didn’t buy it. As his eyes hovered at the neckline of my shirt he murmured, ‘I wonder how far down that blush goes?’

I shot him a disapproving look. ‘We’re working, not flirting.’

‘I maintain we can do both. We’re nothing if not experts in efficiency.’

‘If we were experts in efficiency, we’d have managed to see each other during the last two weeks,’ I pointed out.

‘I had some fallout to deal with.’ His tone was immediately serious, all hints of flirtation gone.

‘After Einar’s death?’

‘Exactly. He was running a faction, getting ready to challenge me and lead a coup. I expect he planned to use the money from Helga’s death to grease palms. Instead, Einar’s death has disrupted the revolution and his pals don’t know who to back next.

It’s led to some chaos and a few challenges, though I think I’m starting to get through to them. ’

I sat up straighter. ‘They’ve been challenging you?’

He snorted. ‘They do that frequently, but rarely to the death. These challenges have been to the death.’

I gaped. ‘But … you’re their High King. They respect you. I’ve seen it.’

‘Most do,’ he agreed. ‘But the ones that don’t are quite vocal.’ He shrugged. ‘There are fewer of them now,’ he said with some satisfaction.

‘And Einar’s coup?’

‘Stomped on, for now. But they’re undoubtedly just biding their time until they agree on a new leader.’ His tone suggested it was no big deal and I guessed he faced such challenges fairly often. To him they were no big deal, just a fact of life.

I didn’t know much about ogre culture – something I’d have to rectify if we grew serious – but I knew that the High King’s crown was passed on only by a death.

Like many titles in the Other, it was a lifelong commitment, and sometimes that commitment shortened your lifespan.

To my surprise, that thought made my stomach churn a little.

I searched Krieg for visible wounds. ‘Are you okay?’ Ogres were notoriously difficult to kill but, while that was true of him, it was equally true of his opponents.

I relaxed a little when I saw no sign of injury.

I reassured myself that I’d have noticed earlier if he’d been holding himself stiffly.

‘Fine.’ He smiled at me. ‘I like that you care already. This bodes well for us.’

I cleared my throat and waded into dangerous territory. ‘All the challenges … are they because you don’t have a mate?’

He froze – just for a moment, a beat – but I saw it. He forced himself to relax. ‘That’s part of it. And my heritage is another.’

‘You’re only half-ogre,’ I murmured.

‘Right.’

‘What do they think your other half is?’

He grinned. ‘My father misled the others into thinking that his mate was human – better that than tell them the truth. Plus it makes them underestimate me all the more. By all accounts my mother found the den an uncomfortable place, and she avoided it. When she died in childbirth, a number of my father’s compatriots didn’t hesitate to say they’d told him so. ’

I winced in sympathy. ‘So a matching humanoid mate for you would be…’

‘A grenade in the den.’ He locked eyes with me for a moment before turning back to the road.

‘And yet you want to—’ make me your mate? ‘—date me?’

‘With all my heart,’ he answered honestly. Then, perhaps feeling too vulnerable, he added, ‘And other parts of me, too.’ I rolled my eyes at his innuendo, which made him laugh. ‘See?’ he said. ‘This is fun.’

‘We’re about to go and tell a couple their daughter is dead.’

The smile slipped from his face. ‘Yeah. That part won’t be pleasant.’

‘Perhaps you should stay in the car while I pass the death message?’

‘Will you crack the windows for me in case I get too hot?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘I don’t think you’re a dog!’

‘Good, because I won’t stay like one.’ He paused. ‘I’m not very well trained, either.’

That he would admit that made me laugh with surprise. ‘No shit? I hope you’re toilet trained at least.’

‘I put the lid back down and everything,’ he promised.

I was still snickering, appreciating the levity that he’d brought to an otherwise dark day, when we pulled up to Sefton Park.

It was just after midday but Channing’s notes from SPEL told us that the older dryad couple were retired and would more than likely be home. When we arrived, Channing’s police vehicle was parked by the main entrance so we pulled up behind him. ‘I called ahead,’ he said as we joined him.

My mouth dropped open. You never call ahead; when people know the police have bad news to deliver they can take drastic action. Before I could rip him a new one, Channing held up a hand. ‘I pretended to be a telemarketer. I just verified they were in, that’s all.’

‘You pretended to be a telemarketer?’ I asked incredulously.

He shrugged. ‘I get enough spam calls to know how to make one. They hung up on me none the wiser.’

I sighed. ‘Don’t do that again – impersonating someone never ends well. Come on. The grove is this way.’

I ushered him and Krieg through the greenery. The summer sun meant that the park was packed: families were out in force with bikes, ball games and picnics. The atmosphere at weekends was always fun and festive when the weather was good. We skirted around the Palm House.

‘Inspector,’ a low voice called sharply.

I turned to see Peter Glenn marching towards me, hands clenched into fists. He was a local dragon who hoarded all things plant – and I immediately registered that he was extremely pissed off.

Peter grew all manner of rare potion ingredients at the Palm House. Kass would have given her left arm for free access to his hoard, but I certainly wouldn’t ask any favours when he was so visibly steaming.

‘The trees are in mourning,’ he said as he drew closer. ‘What’s happened?’

‘A dryad has been killed,’ I confirmed.

His mouth tightened. ‘Horrible business. More and more the creatures are being targeted.’ He wagged a finger at me. ‘I hope you’re looking into the Anti-Crea. That mess with the Chester grove was awful.’

That ‘mess’ had been Jude Jingo taking over.

He’d killed a number of elders and usurped their power because they’d had the temerity to tell him ‘no’.

It was, however, nothing to do with the Anti-Crea.

I’d been surprised when I’d learned that doppelgangers were also technically creatures; no one knew what their birth form was, but Jingo had told me he’d been born with four legs rather than two.

‘An investigation was carried out into the Chester grove, and I can confirm that the Anti-Crea weren’t involved,’ I stated firmly.

Peter pushed his wire-framed glasses up his nose. ‘That doesn’t mean they’re not behind this atrocity.’

‘No, indeed. The investigation is ongoing and we will explore all avenues.’

‘See that you do. The reason that I came over is that I reported an imp was attacked yesterday and no one has come to take my statement! It is simply not good enough, Inspector. Imps may be small in stature but they should be treated with the same respect as everyone else. It is unconscionable that no one cares about the attack.’

I frowned. ‘Channing, check SPEL.’

Channing opened his phone and pressed some buttons. ‘The report is there – vampyr attack – but it’s currently unallocated.’

‘Allocate it to us, then,’ I ordered and Peter’s shoulders softened a fraction. ‘We need to break the news to the dryad family, then we’ll be back. Has the imp stayed in the area?’

‘Resting in my glen,’ he confirmed. ‘The shock damn near killed her – even now I’m not sure she’ll make it. Time is of the essence if you wish justice to be served.’

I shot him a hard look. ‘I always wish justice to be served.’

‘She didn’t want to see a witch or a healing wizard?’ Channing asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

‘She didn’t see the point. Her tail is gone so she’s doomed. She wanted to die in my glen and I will damned well honour her last wish.’

‘She’s not dead yet. She needs Amber DeLea. She can regrow it,’ Krieg promised.

Peter’s eyes widened. ‘I didn’t know that was possible. I’ll call her. She’ll come if I promise her some black kiteen.’

‘She doesn’t need bribing.’ Krieg’s voice was dry. ‘She’ll come because it’s the right thing to do.’

I looked at him, surprised. He’d said he didn’t have friends but there was something in his voice – affection?

No, not so strong as that. Respect, maybe.

Either way, I agreed with his assessment.

DeLea was hard faced but I suspected she was also kind-hearted; you couldn’t become a coven mother without some instinct to care and coddle.

‘You call Amber DeLea and we’ll come back once we’ve done the death notification,’ I promised.

Mollified, Peter disappeared into the Palm House to make the call.

Now I just had to go and rip a family in two.