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eleven

Griff

The shopkeeper peered at Griff, narrowing his eyes beneath his bushy brow.

“What exactly was it you said you were investigating again?”

Griff muffled an internal sigh.

This conversation had already dragged on far longer than he’d have preferred.

The plan had been for him to distract the shopkeeper outside while Cal ‘investigated’ the shop.

Griff had tried not to think too hard about what that might entail.

It’s all for a good cause, he’d consoled himself.

That void relic posed a grave threat to the city, and if utilizing Cal’s particular brand of expertise helped him identify the culprit quicker, well…

so be it. Besides, he’d made Cal promise not to break any laws.

He snuck a furtive glance toward the alleyway leading to the side entrance of the small shop, then said, “Like I told you, sir, there have been a recent spat of robberies in this area. I believe the culprit has been casing shops ahead of time to identify potential targets. Anything you can tell me could be of use.”

“I already told you, I ain’t seen anyone suspicious around here.” The pointed look the shopkeeper gave him made his silent Except you crystal clear.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to be getting back to my customers before Beatrice gets overwhelmed.”

The man started to turn back to the shop door behind him, and Griff said quickly, “I’m sure your daughter will be fine a few minutes longer if it means stopping this bandit. Now, do you remember seeing anyone wearing a mask, or maybe a hat? Any other manner of headwear?”

The man barked a humorless laugh.

He swept his arms out to indicate the bustling street.

“I must get a hundred people in and out of my shop each day, Inspector. You think I can keep track of all that?” Shaking his head, he turned back toward his shop’s entrance.

“Sorry, but that’s all I got for you. Good day.”

Griff scrambled for an excuse.

“Do you like shellfish, Mr. Jemil?”

The shopkeeper paused with one hand on the door.

He glanced back at Griff with a furrowed brow.

Confused strips of blue twisted in his aura.

“What in the Void does that have to do with a robber?”

Excellent question.

Griff racked his brain for an answer.

Usually, he felt confident conducting these sorts of interviews.

But then again, he usually had a legitimate reason to be there and actual questions that needed answering, rather than serving as a distraction.

“Our working theory is that the culprit may be involved with a fishing outfit from the docks,” Griff said at last. “That may be how they are selecting their initial targets.” Griff made a point of raising his notebook, his Vantoric pen poised over the page.

“Can you tell me when the last time was you procured shellfish, and have you ever had any delivered here to your shop?”

Still frowning, the shopkeeper said, “Well, now that you mention it, Beatrice and I did wander down that way…Goddess, I think it was three days ago, now?”

“And where exactly did you go? Be as specific as you can.”

Griff was still dutifully jotting down the man’s route through the local fish markets when Cal—or rather, an unfamiliar dockworker bearing Cal’s colorful aura—emerged from the alleyway.

He beelined straight for Griff.

“Inspector! Sorry to bother you, but I need your help!”

Finally.

Thank the Goddess.

Trying to muffle his relief, Griff snapped his notebook shut and tucked it away, turning to the shopkeeper.

“Thank you for your cooperation, sir. I believe I have everything I need. Enjoy the rest of your…” He trailed off, the impatient shopkeeper already vanishing back into his shop.

He stared at the slammed door for a moment, then sighed and shook his head, turning to Cal.

“Please tell me you got something.”

“Of course, Inspector,” Cal said, speaking loudly for the benefit of any prying ears among the people passing by.

“Right this way.”

He led Griff toward the alleyway.

As soon as they were out of sight of the street, black duskflame burned away his disguise.

He leaned against the alley wall, his messy blonde bangs falling over his forehead.

“It’s about what we figured,” he said.

“While that guy Jemil runs this shop with his daughter, he doesn’t own the building. He pays rent to Derimay Development—just like every other place on this block. And at a surprisingly reasonable rate, I might add.”

Griff eyed the grime caked on the wall and grimaced, focusing on Cal.

“You expect me to believe you acquired all that information legally?”

Cal grinned.

“I can bend the law as well as the next person.” When Griff still looked unconvinced, Cal rolled his eyes.

“If you must know, I ran into that shopkeeper’s daughter. A bit of talking, and she was willing to show me whatever I wanted. It’s amazing how far a little flirting can get you.”

Griff’s cheeks heated at the way Cal’s gaze lingered on him, a roguish grin on his lips.

Grunting, Griff turned and strode back toward the street.

“Good work.”

Cal fell into step beside him, easily keeping pace.

“Of course. It’s not as if you kept me around just for my cute face and winsome personality.”

Winking at Griff, he stepped past him onto the street.

As he did, his arm lightly brushed Griff’s.

Goosebumps rose in its wake.

Griff frowned down at the spot and then up at Cal’s retreating back before moving to catch up.

Griff could tell when he was being charmed.

Countless crooks had tried the same tactic on him before, hoping for leniency.

Usually, he could see right through it.

With Cal and that Void-cursed aura of his, however, Griff was finding it decidedly more difficult to ignore.

“So, where to next, fearless leader?” Cal said as Griff caught up to him.

He gave a theatrical groan, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead as he leaned against Griff for support.

“Please tell me we’ve exhausted our quota of shops on this block?”

Griff shoved him off.

“It never hurts to be thorough.” When Cal groaned again, he added, “But I suppose we’ve learned all we’re going to here.”

“Let me guess,” Cal sighed.

“Another dead-end?”

Unperturbed by Cal’s pessimism, he shrugged.

“Yes and no. The company itself seems like all the others we’ve investigated so far with ties to Jumic Enterprises: little more than a shell corporation with no identifiable employees or actual headquarters within the city. However, there is one key difference.”

Cal’s gaze wandered distractedly over the colorful banners they passed beneath.

“And what’s that?”

Griff gestured behind them toward the shop they’d just left.

“Actual assets. They own buildings all over the Market District and rent them out to tenants. That’s the closest we’ve found to a real business so far.”

Cal perked up at that.

“You mean we’re close to cracking the case?”

Griff hesitated.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is a promising avenue to explore, but we’re still a long way away from apprehending a culprit or identifying a link back to the Watch. For now, we’ll focus our efforts on records specifically related to Derimay Development and see where that takes us.”

Cal groaned loud enough to attract curious looks from a few random passersby.

“This whole investigating thing hasn’t been nearly as exciting as I thought. Where are the thrilling chases? The harrowing battles for our life as we fight to catch the bad guys? The logic-defying puzzles we need to solve in order to escape certain doom?”

“It sounds to me like you’ve been reading far too many Ilthabardian adventure tales.” Griff patted the pocket on his coat where he kept his trusty notebook.

“Sometimes, investigations take you into dangerous situations you don’t expect. But the vast majority of the time, cracking a case is more a matter of perseverance than anything else. It’s about gathering information until you can piece together the proper picture.”

“Maybe the way you do things.” Cal flashed him another easy grin.

“Stick with me, Inspector, and I’ll show you a good time. After all, our very first lead together ended up with you shot. If we keep this up, who knows where we’ll end up?”

His teasing tone and smoldering gaze seemed designed to make Griff blush.

Grumbling, Griff quickened his pace, Cal’s laughter pursuing him.

Even with his ability to read Cal’s aura, he couldn’t tell if the thief just enjoyed pushing his buttons…

or if there was something more behind the obvious flirting.

The yellow bands of amusement in his aura were easy enough for Griff to spot.

But he felt certain there was more hidden within that swirling vortex of colors than he knew how to parse.

Griff had always considered himself a lone wolf, preferring to work alone.

Over the past couple days since their pseudo-bank heist, however, he’d found he enjoyed Cal’s company more than he’d expected.

Somehow, the younger man always managed to make him laugh or set him at ease.

It made the tedious work pass much faster.

Plus, he had to admit that it was handy having someone with Cal’s skills around to help gather intel.

Even without his duskflame disguises, Cal was a master at getting others to open up to him.

Griff might be the one able to read auras, but Cal knew how to read people.

Griff frowned to himself.

Even if Cal’s attempts to charm others occasionally involved some shameless flirting.

They spent the rest of the afternoon investigating other businesses from the bank records with links to Derimay Development.

That eventually led them to a manufactory in the new Vantoric District.

A little more digging by Cal while Griff once again played the role of distraction revealed that an entity named the Gearhall Group actually owned both the manufactory and Derimay Development.

Thus had been the story of their entire investigation so far, the initial bank records leading them down a rabbit-hole of shell corporations and chain ownership.

It was the sort of confusing web that could take weeks to unravel—weeks Griff didn’t have to spare.

His seniority and newfound fame afforded him a certain amount of leeway to pursue his own cases, but he’d only be able to put off returning to his regular duties for so long.

What they needed was a lucky break.

“We made some solid progress today,” Griff said later that night after they’d returned to his apartment.

He and Cal had decided to relocate their investigation there since it was larger than Cal’s tiny safe house, and more central to the city.

It had felt odd at first having someone else there.

He hadn’t had to share his personal space with anyone since Amelie left Derimay.

Once again though, he’d found himself surprised by how much he didn’t mind Cal’s abrupt intrusion into his life.

Even after a week, it was almost like he fit there.

Watching Cal lounge on the sofa with a plate of food, Griff chided himself for the thought.

This arrangement was only temporary.

Even if Griff allowed himself to ignore that Cal was the infamous Blackjack—a truth he still wasn’t entirely sure how to wrap his head around—he was still a criminal.

Cal didn’t genuinely care about doing good.

The only reason he was helping Griff was because of their deal.

He was in this out of self-interest, nothing more.

“Eternal Dark, I hope so,” Cal said.

He took a bite of his baked fish, then shook his head, gesturing with his fork.

“I don’t know how you can spend your days doing this. I’d go insane from boredom long before I caught anyone.”

Cal’s melodramatic tone made Griff chuckle.

“It’s not always this dull. But like I told you earlier, being an inspector is far from the glamorous profession many envision. Chasing down bad guys is more a protector’s duty. For us, it’s the riddle. I love putting the pieces together, forming a picture that fits. I live for that moment when everything finally clicks into place.”

Cal smiled at that, and Griff didn’t miss the slight softening of the usual edges in his aura that matched the softening in his expression.

“I suppose that makes sense. My favorite jobs tend to be the same. It’s the challenge I enjoy more than anything.”

His smile faded as his gaze fell on a nearby side table.

Sitting up, he picked up a framed picture.

“Who’s this? And how did you make it? I’ve never seen a painting look so realistic.”

Griff’s stomach churned with mild unease when he saw the picture.

“It’s a portrait of me and my wife, Amelie.” His stomach gave another of those little churns.

Not sure why he felt the need to add it, he said, “Well, ex-wife now. Nathaniel made it for us as a wedding gift.”

He expected Cal to make one of his usual jokes or flippant remarks.

But to his surprise, Cal simply nodded.

“What happened between you two? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Usually, Amelie was one of the last things Griff wanted to think about.

His failures as a husband only served to amplify his guilt at how things had turned out.

Yet, despite the discomfort still coiling in his chest, he found himself speaking.

“I met her over fifteen years ago. We were both barely out of our teens, eager to leave our marks on Allaria. Back then, she was a fiery artificer fresh from Vantor. She’d set off with nothing but a handful of silver sestas to her name the instant Vantor lifted their travel ban.” He gestured to his folded glasses and revolver where they sat on the table.

“All of my runeflame tools were made by her.”

Cal nodded appreciatively.

“An inspector and an artificer seems a good match. Plenty of ways for her to aid in your cases.”

He carefully set the picture back in its place, shifting to fully face toward Griff so he could give him his undivided attention.

The focus made Griff squirm, his stomach giving a little flip.

“This was well before I decided to become an inspector, back when I still intended to be a magister. At first, she was exactly what I needed. While I’d have been perfectly content holing myself up in my room with a stack of dusty old books to study, she knew how to entice me outside, force me to take the breaks I needed to clear my head. We complemented each other well.”

He pictured her aura.

It had been some time since he’d seen it in all its fiery, passionate, wild glory.

A wave of melancholy washed over him, carrying with it countless memories from those years together.

The good…and the bad.

Cal shifted on the couch, drawing Griff’s eye.

The thief appeared uncertain, and when he spoke, his words were halting.

“Was that…did your mother…?”

Griff bowed his head.

His fingers trailed over the cool metal side of his revolver.

“My mother’s death wasn’t the thing that broke us—not exactly. But after she was murdered and I decided to become an investigator, we suddenly found ourselves on two different life paths. And they didn’t mesh as well as you might think.”

Cal grunted, and Griff looked up just in time to catch his shrug.

“If she couldn’t accept your choice, then it sounds like it was her loss.”

Griff stared at Cal, momentarily stunned into silence.

Was Cal actually defending him?

Griff swished his drink but didn’t take a sip.

“I wasn’t exactly blameless in us drifting apart. She supported my choice at first. But I struggled with my mother’s death—with my grief and rage. I threw myself into my work, which left little time for us. She tried to support me, even went so far as to forge my Vantoric gadgets. But eventually, she got tired of waiting for me to be better. I can only imagine how stressful it must have been for her, sitting at home and wondering if I’d make it back. Like Nathaniel, she thought the profession too risky for me.”

Something shifted in Cal’s expression, there and gone too quickly for Griff to see.

Yet he caught it in Cal’s aura all the same: a deep, wavering streak of purple longing.

“At least she had someone to wait for,” Cal said.

The feigned lightness in his voice belied his heavy aura as he snorted and shook his head.

“Though after what I’ve seen of your work, your ex-wife and I have rather different ideas of what constitutes risk.”

Griff stared at Cal, suddenly curious about his own background.

He hadn’t dared press before, but now that they’d spent more time together these past few days, he yearned to know more about the mysterious man of many faces.

“Why do you take that risk then?” Griff asked.

“Why become a thief?”

Cal’s aura churned as he shrank back on the couch, fidgeting with his plate and avoiding Griff’s eyes.

Griff thought he wouldn’t answer, but after a span of heartbeats, Cal gave an uncomfortable shrug.

“It’s all I’ve ever really known. At first, I didn’t have a choice. The only thing I know about my parents is that they didn’t want me. They abandoned me when I was barely old enough to walk. Stealing was a necessity after that to survive. Then, at some point I suppose it became a habit.”

Cal’s gaze grew distant, his tumultuous aura stilling like a sea after a storm.

Griff wondered what it was he saw.

“An older boy took me under his wing,” Cal eventually said.

“Taught me how to hone my skills. And, well…now it’s what I do. Who I am.”

Cal fell silent.

Judging by the way he settled back against the cushions, he seemed to think that meant the matter resolved.

Griff, however, disagreed.

“But is it what you want to do?”

Cal blinked at him.

His brows pressed together.

“I don’t…no one has ever asked me that before. I suppose it’s true that I could do something else now if I wanted. I have the resources, along with alter-egos I could rely on.”

“Then, why don’t you? Surely that would be easier than living safe house to safe house, always looking over your shoulder and dealing with thugs like Bald Locke.”

“I…I don’t know.” Cal’s voice wavered.

“Somehow, it all feels…fake. Unearned.” He snorted a humorless laugh.

“I suppose because it is.”

Griff stayed silent, unsure how to respond to that.

He couldn’t exactly endorse the methods by which Cal had come by his ill-gotten wealth.

Still, the brightness of his aura had to mean something.

Cal wasn’t an inherently bad person.

Griff was sure of it.

He’d made plenty of mistakes, sure.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t change.

Out of the blue, Cal chuckled.

Straightening his back, he stood and stretched.

“I think that’s enough of my sob story for one night. Given the hand I was dealt, I’d say I’ve played my cards the best I could. Wouldn’t you?”

He flashed Griff a smirk.

The allusion to Blackjack wasn’t lost on Griff, but he refused to take the bait.

No matter how hard Cal tried to get under his skin or mask his emotion behind a joke, Griff could sense the truth, clear as day.

Cal might be able to fool anyone else…

but not him.

Remaining serious, Griff said, “I see you, Cal. I believe in you. And if the past couple weeks have taught me anything, it’s that you could do more, be more, if you set your mind to it. All you need to do is stop being afraid.”

Their eyes met, their gazes locking together.

Barely registering what he was doing, Griff found himself approaching Cal.

The tension between them heightened with every step.

He knew this was a terrible idea, for so many different reasons.

Yet he couldn’t quite convince himself to stop.

Cal’s breath caught when Griff rested a hand on his arm.

Cal shifted closer, starting to lean in as his eyes drifted shut.

Staring at Cal’s lips, Griff finally snapped back to his senses.

The tension between them shattered like smashed glass as he stepped back and cleared his throat.

“We have another early morning tomorrow. We need to stick to our current pace if we want to finish anytime soon.”

Cal opened his eyes and nodded.

The smile he gave Griff appeared almost sad.

“Finish…right. The sooner we conclude our deal, the better.”

Griff turned away, not wanting to see whatever lay in Cal’s aura at that moment.

“See you in the morning.”

Before Cal could reply, he fled down the hall to his bedroom, shutting the door.

He rested his back against it and closed his eyes, his heart pounding.

What in the Merciful Light had almost just happened there…

and why did he regret that it hadn’t?