CHAPTER Eight
Julia came and found me in the kitchen whilst I was sat at the large wooden table with my hands curled around my now steaming mug of deliciously syrupy Java. I was lost in thought about what the tree markings might indicate.
“How’s it going, dear?” She asked.
“Fine. Great.” I said sarcastically. “John is still dead. The Brethren are still here and I have an interview with the Lord Alpha in fifteen minutes.”
“Now is not the time to get worked up, Mackenzie. Keep your wits about you and we’ll be fine.”
I sighed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes, yes, I know.”
Julia leaned towards me. “Do not f*ck this up, Mackenzie.”
I was startled by her swearing. “I won’t. I’m just frustrated.”
“And you’ll get over it. There’s just over a day to go then this will be over.”
“29 hours.” Not that I was counting or anything. I changed the subject. “Julia, did John mention anything to you about increased otherworld activity?”
She shook her head, puzzled.
“What about a Quinotaur?”
She shook her head again. “He seemed quite tired but I put that down to being busy with the quarterly reports. He was out a lot though.”
Yes, out doing the rest of our jobs for us. Anton took that moment to enter the kitchen. I noted with some satisfaction that he was moving stiffly but was still irritated that he could recover with such ease from an injury that would have killed most humans. He shot me a dirty look and went to the fridge.
“I think Anton and I need to have a little chat,” said Julia calmly. She looked at me with her eyebrows raised. I took the hint and left, hoping that he’d get the chewing out he truly deserved. I should probably go and wait outside the office for my interview anyway. In retrospect, arriving late would not help my cause.
When I got there, the blonde Brethren girl was outside with a clipboard, marking names off. She smiled at me briefly and I took a seat on a waiting chair. After a few minutes, Johannes emerged, smiling and shaking his head.
“He’s some guy, yer alpha.”
The blonde smiled again. “We’re lucky to have him.”
Oh, for God’s sake. He was just another shifter. I rolled my eyes expressively and crossed my legs.
Miss Mackenzie. I am ready for you now.
I jumped. Shit, he could use the Voice on me. I hadn’t anticipated that. I was about to make a sarky remark back to him when Betsy passed through my line of sight and glanced at me. I hesitated, remembering my brief.
As you wish, my lord. I answered back. Way Directive 32: Respect the hierarchy.
The girl put a check next to my name. “You’ll do fine,” she said. “He’s really a nice guy.”
Nice. Sure. He’d fought off sixteen leadership challenges and was in charge of the one group of people who could spell the doom of me and mine just because my mother had abandoned me here when I was kid. I gritted my teeth and curved up my lips to form a smile. “I’m just nervous,” I said.
And actually I was. My palms were slightly damp and sweaty and I could feel a slight tremor in my knees. I must still be feeling the effects of the fight. As if in answer, my ribs took that moment to start throbbing with pain. I stood up. Best to get this over and done with.
Johannes gently touched my elbow as I went past. It was good to know that I had the pack on my side. Then I remembered Anton. Most of the pack at least. I pulled on the doorknob and went back into the office.
The majority of the paperwork from the desk had been cleared away. Corrigan was behind the desk, reading from a sheet of paper. I was rather surprised that he’d chosen not to use John’s study. Staines was leaning against the wall and looking at me with a frown. I stood in front of them and waited. I wasn’t sure if this part of their ploy – keep the underlings waiting to make them nervous, but actually it gave me a good chance to study my potential nemesis. His dark hair curled ever so slightly round the corner of his ears and at the nape of his neck, before disappearing into a pink striped shirt. He must be secure with his masculinity to wear pink, I figured. But then again his muscles were straining tautly at the material so I guessed that he had no worries in that direction. In fact he probably had a tailor to design his shirts that way in particular. I was equally amused to see that he was wearing a tie. Most visitors to Cornwall who arrive suited and booted get short shrift. We were not that kind of county. Interestingly, his fingernails were bitten down to the quick, which made me wonder if perhaps I should suggest a manicurist. Ally was particularly adept at French polishes. I smirked at the idea of the big bad tough Brethren Lord getting his pinky nail buffed and filed, which of course just made Staines frown even deeper at me. Yeah, whatever.
Eventually, Corrigan put the piece of paper and down. He looked at Staines, who pushed himself off the wall and left through the door I’d come through. These two were not exactly fond of chit-chat. He motioned to a blue plastic chair that had been commandeered from the canteen and I sat down.
“So, Miss Mackenzie, we finally have some alone time to talk together.” He smiled lazily at me, and I had the distinct impression of a predator sizing up its next meal.
I swallowed. Alone time? Oh hurray.
“I have to admit that I find you rather fascinating. One minute you are being knocked down by a tap from a little girl, and the next you are defeating a werebear in his own shift form.”
I just looked at him. Two could play the silent game.
He stared at me for a moment before acknowledging my lack of response with a slight one shouldered shrug. I cast my eyes down, trying to play the part of submissive shifter. He continued. “And then of course there are your night time sparring matches on the beach.”
My head snapped up. So there had been somewhere there watching after all. I wondered briefly why he’d been there and why I hadn’t spotted him. If it had indeed been him, or just one of his minions tailing me. Corrigan smiled unpleasantly. I tried desperately to remember if either Tom or I had said anything incriminating whilst we were on the beach. I didn’t think so but I couldn’t be entirely sure. Memories are funny things; concentrate hard enough and you’ll start remembering things that never even happened in the first place. My eyes narrowed slightly and I waited for his next move.
“So what is a shifter of your talents doing tucked away in sleepiest Cornwall, and why are you so desperate to stay here?” His green gold eyes bored into me.
That one, I could handle. “Er, well, I like the quiet,” I said, “and then there’s Tom, of course.”
“Ah, yes, the boyfriend.” He stood up and moved round to the other side of the desk. I tried to lean back as if I could get away from him without leaving my chair. He frowned down at me. “Funny, I wouldn’t have pegged the two of you as a couple.”
“Do you think I’m not good enough for him?” I was aware of the note of rising annoyance in my voice. Careful, Mack, I warned myself.
“Not at all. I just wonder how someone like him could keep someone like you…interested.”
Now what exactly did he mean by that? I looked directly into his eyes, challenging his stare. “Oh, I’m very interested,” I said with a slow murmur.
The green in his eyes flashed for a second and he returned to the chair behind the desk.
I decided to aim for humility in a bid to get him to leave me alone. “Lord Corrigan, I don’t want to waste your valuable time. I have no desire to leave Cornwall and believe that I have made that apparent to you already. Perhaps your time would be better spent with those shifters who would like to join in you in London.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That may be but there are other matters that I would like to discuss.” He was all business like now. “Tell me what you did on the day of your alpha’s death.”
“On the day of his murder, you mean.”
Corrigan just looked back at me. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “I went for a jog, then to the eastern perimeter. There had been some rumours about something there.”
“And did you find anything?”
“No,” I lied. I knew from my quick rummage around John’s computer that he’d not written the wichtlein report before he’d died and, if I was going to make sure that the Brethren left promptly in a day and a half’s time, then it was important that I gave them no further reasons to stick around. Besides which, I was going to find John’s killer and wreak my own particular brand of justice on them. The last thing I needed were some jumped up overlords getting my way.
Corrigan’s expression remained blank. “And then what?”
“I came back to the keep. When we realised that John hadn’t returned, I went out with the others to find him. Then we did. Find him, I mean.”
“I see.” He raised a hand and pushed it through his dark hair, biceps rippling as he did so. “You’re lying, Miss Mackenzie. Or certainly not telling me the whole truth.”
Shit.
Tell me everything.
Oh god, he was trying to compel me with his Voice. It wouldn’t work on me though so I had to be clever about this and make it seem like I was following orders. I opened my mind up carefully, letting an image of finding John’s body then Anton pushing me aside flash up. I left off the part where Anton had referred to my humanity but allowed the idea that he’d accused me of being involved in John’s murder seep through.
Corrigan nodded slowly. “Hmmm. So what is it between you and Anton? Perhaps he’s a jilted lover?”
Hardly. He just couldn’t stand the fact that I was human. “We just rub each other up the wrong way.”
“I see,” Corrigan said again. “So why does your boyfriend,” he emphasised the ‘boy’ part, “call you Red?”
Crapola. He’d heard that. I silently cursed Tom for his nickname. If I told Corrigan the truth, that I’d dyed my hair, he might suspect that there was more I was trying to hide. Think, Mack. “It’s my favourite colour. I always wear it.”
Corrigan’s eyes slowly travelled down my seated body. I was wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt.
“But, of course, I’m wearing dark colours now in mourning for John.”
He tapped his fingers lightly on the worn desk. “Of course. You do seem to take this mourning aspect very seriously.”
“I take his death very seriously.” At least that part wasn’t a lie.
There was a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. That annoyed me. I didn’t need to know that the Lord Alpha had a nice side to him, no matter what the girl had said outside.
He changed tack. “You smell like a rat, or maybe a gerbil. I can’t quite pinpoint it.”
“I’m a hamster.” Which was probably about as believable as the reason I’d offered up for Tom’s stupid nickname. Shifters’ personalities and abilities mimic their animal form. I could think of little that I’d manage to achieve so far that broadcasted a small furry compliant rodent.
He looked at me quietly for a moment or two but his expression gave nothing away. “Interesting. Werehamsters rarely have much fighting prowess. You, Miss Mackenzie, must be an anomaly.”
I shrugged, trying to appear casual. He stared at me for another long moment before again tapping his fingers on the desk and saying, “Very well then. You are free to go.”
Well, thank you very much, my lord. That hadn’t been so bad, I thought, and stood up relieved, turning towards the door. I straightened my t-shirt and felt the tension leave my body. He wasn’t so scary after all. My hand was turning the doorknob, however, when he cleared his throat and spoke again.
“Oh wait. One more thing, Miss Mackenzie.” Great. “I’m curious as to what you bathe with.”
Say what? I didn’t turn around but my body stiffened. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, my lord.”
“I mean, sweetheart, that you smell very odd. If you are a werehamster as you claim, then you’re like none I’ve come across before. I can’t quite put my finger on it but it’s definitely an unusual scent that you carry around with you.”
I wasn’t sure if it was my fear that he was skirting towards the truth or the sweetheart comment that did it, but I whipped around without thinking, all cylinders firing. “I fail to see what difference what I wash with or how I bathe has to do with you.” I snarled. “I’ve answered your sodding questions and played along. If you have nothing of any note to ask about then let me go.”
So the kitten roars after all.
I opened my mouth to speak again then thought better of it and settled for glaring at him instead.
“Never mind,” he answered airily. “I didn’t realise it was such a touchy subject. Clearly there are depths to you that I need to plumb further. Some other time, I think, Miss Mackenzie.”
I glared at him again and left. Goddamnit, I’d walked right into that one.
Outside, the blonde shifter was putting another mark on her clipboard. She beamed at me. “See, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?”
F*ck off, Brethren girl. I forced a smile. By the time they all left, my cheeks were going to be aching. “It was great. He is indeed an impressive man.”
“Isn’t he, though.” She sighed slightly and smoothed her hair self-consciously. “And he’s single.”
So sodding what? “Maybe you should ask him out on a date then.”
She giggled slightly. I was somewhat surprised that the apparently stoic and somber Brethren members were capable of giggling. “Oh no, I could never do that. Lord Corrigan likes to do the chasing himself.”
Screw Lord Corrigan. Which was actually probably what she wanted. I tried to smile at her again. “I have to go now.”
“Okay then,” she answered dreamily, no doubt imagining herself and Corrigan walking hand in hand down a deserted beach. I almost snarled again.
Julia was hovering around in the hall, looking over at me anxiously, so I flashed her a brilliant smile of fake reassurance before striding up to the dorms to change the dressing on my wound and get my backpack. Forget about Corrigan, I had clues to investigate and places to go and it was too late to change the fact that I’d stupidly snapped at him.
Once outside, I took a deep breath and filled my lungs. I figured I had a couple of hours before the rest of the interviews would be over. Plenty of time to see what I could find about tree markings and to look for black diamond stones. I’d bound my side and my ribs tightly with bandages and taken a few more painkillers so I was pretty sure that I’d be able to conduct my investigations without the pain getting to me. I briefly considered finding Tom and asking him to come with me – and quizzing to find out how his interview had gone - but I didn’t want to lose any valuable time and I was pretty certain that he wouldn’t take kindly to me patently hoping he screwed it up, so I shifted the backpack on my shoulder instead and walked out towards the beach and the scene of John’s death.
Despite my own ministrations, I didn’t want to risk delaying the healing process by opening the gashes up on my side further, so I refrained from jogging and instead walked casually away from the keep. At least if anyone spotted me I could use the excuse that I was just out for a casual afternoon stroll to clear my head.
The path was lightened by sunbeams, in stark and bitter contrast to when I’d taken this route last time. A few birds chirped here and there. I noted my own tracks from the previous night, as well as a few others that were heavier and no doubt belonged to the Brethren. And John had said that I was like an elephant…I guess that’s what living in the cement covered city did to your ability to tread lightly and leave little trace behind of your presence.
Scuffing over some of the more irritating trail marks as I went, I mulled over my interview with Corrigan, eventually deciding that he was just trying to get under my skin. If he’d really smelled anything human about me then he’d have squashed me like a bug without thinking twice about it. He had definitely just been fishing around. He probably tried to get a rise out of everyone he interviewed. I ignored the memory of the almost worshipful expression Johannes had had on his face after his interview. Anyway, Corrigan didn’t matter – finding John’s murderer did.
When I started to get closer to where John had died, I stopped focusing on the ground and started checking out the trees instead. I couldn’t see anything yet that suggested the markings that Corrigan and Staines had been talking about it. I felt tendrils of dread curl around the pit of my stomach with each step that I took. I really didn’t want to go there again. I wondered how much the pack had managed to clean up. Would there still be traces of his life blood there? Where it had seeped into the earth, taking the only real parent I’d ever known? I clenched my fists, nails curling into the palms of my hands. I couldn’t let my grief escape back out. I needed to be strong and steely if I was going to avenge his death.
I still couldn’t see anything on any of the trees. I circled a few of them, double checking, but there was nothing. What was I missing? By the time I reached the sandy spot where John had actually died, I felt myself flooded with frustration. Somehow the Brethren were seeing something I couldn’t. I walked slowly up to the spot where his body had lain. There were a few indentations on the grass and in the sand but the blood was gone. I knelt down for a second and softly touched the ground.
“I miss you, John,” I whispered softly. My words were whipped away by the wind. I blinked back a few tears and stood back up to look at the tree line behind me. That was when I noticed that the trees did indeed have markings on them. In a semi circle, facing the spot where he’d died, were one, two, three….seven trees together that had what looked like runes scoured into their bark. I felt some grim satisfaction at finding what I’d been looking for and strode over to the first one.
It was gouged deep into the flesh of the tree. Lifting my hand, I traced the outline of the rune, trying to work out what it was. These weren’t Fae runes: there was something sharper and much more sinister about them than the rune that I’d discovered on John’s paperweight. I pulled out my smartphone and snapped a photo of it. I still hadn’t made it to the library or to check the Othernet to dig up information on wichtleins. Now I had another reason to make sure that I did. I went round each tree, taking a photo of each rune as I went. That there were seven runes on seven trees definitely meant something. Seven was a magical number that contained a lot of power within it.
I moved to the beach so I could stand on the dune and get a picture of all of them together. It was a struggle getting the top of the sand with my injuries but I tensed my muscles and held my side and made it. I was about to take a photo again when something half-buried by the sand caught my eye. I crouched down and brushed away the sand. It was a ring of seven charred coals. All of a sudden several pieces started to click together and I hit the back of my hand against my forehead in exasperation. Of course. I cursed myself for being an idiot. Black diamond stones could easily refer to coal, and Nick had mentioned that someone had stolen a bag of coals from Perkins. And an electric screwdriver. I wondered for a minute whether the tree runes could have been made by a tool like that before realising that was ridiculous.
But at least now I knew where I had to go to next.