Panther Prowling

  As if anticipating my thought, Daniel entered the room, dressed in a crisply starched shirt and a pair of jeans that fit so well I wondered if they’d been tailored. His hair was still wet, but brushed back. The gun was tucked in a shoulder holster. I couldn’t quite place the make, but it didn’t look like a lightweight weapon; that was for sure.

  Before he joined us, he crossed to the door and armed the security system. On the way back, he stopped by a minibar and poured himself a drink.

  “That’s a mistake I won’t make again. Can I get anybody anything? Scotch? Vodka?”

  We declined. It was a little too early in the day for drinking for us. He brought his drink over and sat on the ottoman opposite Shade.

  After taking a slow sip, he frowned. “So what brings you over here on this gloomy day, to break into my condo?” His eyes twinkled, but he didn’t sound exactly thrilled about our visit.

  I blushed, but Camille just ignored the jab.

  “We were worried about you. First, because of the sword. Second, because your apartment was broken into. And third . . . ” She glanced over at me. “I suppose we should tell him.”

  “Tell me what?” Daniel leaned forward, his glass cradled between his hands. “What’s gone down now?”

  “The sword vanished. We put it in what we thought was a safe place. Someone charmed and injured one of our guards and stole the sword. Whoever it was bugged my backpack last night and followed us home—a magical bug, by the way. We think you’re being followed.”

  Daniel slowly set his glass down on the coffee table, on a coaster with a picture of a wolf on it. He rubbed his chin. “I work cautiously. I’m the best in the business. But as I said, I’ve had an uneasy feeling . . .” He stood up and paced to the archway leading into the kitchen. “I did some checking into Engberg today. Leif was released from the hospital, but there’s been no word from him and when I checked through my private sources, no sign that he’s put out a price on my head or any such thing.”

  “No? Are you certain about that? Enough to bet your life on it?” I appreciated confidence but Daniel was a shade too cocky for his own good. “One hundred percent certain? Would you stake your sister’s life on it? Because if somebody is pissed at you, they might take it out on Hester Lou.”

  That stopped him. He returned to the ottoman and picked up his drink again, taking a sip before speaking. “I’d never bet Hester’s life on anything. Let me rephrase that. If someone wants to put out a hit on me, he’d have to take it to the top of the line. And most of the—all right, I’ll just say it—assassins who I have met, and who are at that level, are too busy to bother with me. I’m not worth enough for their time, and yet I’m far too dangerous to go after for the lowlife thugs. They know what I’m capable of. But . . . you said the bug was magical? What if it’s not somebody I know about? What if it’s somebody from your side of the tracks, so to speak?”

  “That’s what we’re thinking. Magic was involved in the attack on our guards. You really haven’t had much to do with the magical community—human or otherwise, have you? Do you know if Leif is mixed up in anything like that?” Camille tossed the broken pieces of the talisman on the table. “This is what the bug looked like. Have you seen anything like it?”

  Daniel stared at the shards. “No . . . no, I haven’t. And I doubt if Leif has any magical capabilities whatsoever, but he might have engaged someone in the Supe Community to help him.”

  “Maybe. Or a human. . . or something of the like. There are so many magical ways to track lost objects and energy signatures. Heaven help you if Leif decided to employ a sorcerer. They have few scruples and are quite happy to do whatever it takes in order to solve the problem. And you and that missing sword? A problem.”

  “I’m sorry about your guard.” Daniel dropped back to his seat. “I truly am.” The reality of the situation seemed to be dawning on him.

  “Thing is, Daniel,” I said, crossing my legs and smoothing out the wrinkles in my sweater. “The sword also has a mind of its own. We don’t know what is going down, but whatever it is? Not good.”

  He slowly nodded. “I didn’t know the sword was magical. Hell, I didn’t even know I had it until I got home. I do know the background of it—to a degree. The rumors. Do you think they’re real?”

  “Yes, bluntly put. They’re real and Einar is in that sword.” Shade motioned toward the glass. “I wouldn’t mind a drink, actually, if the offer is still open.”

  One thing I’d learned about my fiancé was that he liked fine brandy, a stiff cognac, and he preferred bittersweet dark chocolate, when he ate it. He only ate Cheetos with me to humor me, which I considered an act of true love.

  Daniel rose and crossed to the minibar. “What would you like?”

  “Brandy, if you have it.”

  The brandy snifter was so big it would have taken both my hands to cradle it, but Shade was able to do so with one. His hands were large, and firm, and as I watched him gently accept the glass, it struck me just how incredible it was that such a beast—a dragon shifter, even if only half-blood—could handle fine crystal without breaking it. Just like he handled my heart.

  Shade stared into his drink. After a minute, he said, “I think Leif has to know the truth—at least about the spirit in the sword. These stories have been passed down throughout his life. They’re ingrained into his heritage. Even with humans who are skeptical, family history often forces them into contemplating things they otherwise might not believe.”

  Morio, who had been silent up till then, spoke up. “Shade’s right. Making assumptions can get us killed. I do think it’s safe to assume that Leif knows something is strange about the sword. He may even know it’s magical. And I think he probably would hire someone to track it down, considering what a family heirloom it is. The sword stolen and the Magic Ears talisman in Delilah’s pack? These cannot be coincidence. But that means whoever’s been following Daniel works fast—and is quick to adapt to the situation. And whoever it was, they put this whole thing in motion. Daniel, have you been able to recall your contact who originally put you in touch with Leif?”

  Daniel closed his eyes, his brow narrowing. After a moment, he let out a grunt. “Damn it, I think I have it on the tip of my tongue and it just vanishes.”

  Camille’s phone dinged and she checked her text messages. “Chase has a last known address on the thief who overpowered Lucias. Can we rule out that he had anything to do with this?” She checked the address on her GPS. “What do you know? Kendell didn’t live all that far from here. We could check out his house, just to make certain.”

  “That’s breaking and entering, you know.” Daniel gave her a sly grin.

  “No, really? I had no clue,” she shot back. “Just in case there’s somebody there, we’ll knock first.”

  “We might as well. Kendell didn’t put down any next of kin, but who knows what we’ll find when we get there.” I gathered my things and Shade finished the last of his brandy. He handed his glass to Daniel, who carried it into the kitchen and rinsed it out.

  “Do you want to come with us?” I didn’t really want to have him tagging along, but in case he was spooked, I made the offer. We couldn’t very well walk off and leave him alone if he was frightened.

  But Daniel shook his head. “No, not really. They have the sword, so maybe they won’t be following me now. I’m going to do some digging on my end. I also need to revamp my security. One warning: don’t try to break in again. Some of my alarms can be deadly. Text me, rather than call, because even if I’m in the shower, when a text comes through, I’ve got my system wired so that my computer alerts me. The whole condo is wired through with cameras, alarms, and so forth. When the door opened? Even though the alarm wasn’t armed, the computer alerted me. Which makes me wonder just how the fucker got in here to ransack my place—there’s nothing on the security footage. Absolutely nothing.” Daniel paused, then glanc
ed at Shade. “So, how did you get in here tonight? The door was locked.”

  Shade merely smiled—a neutral, not-going-to-tell-you smile. “Texting it is, then. But make certain you take all precautions. Whoever is on the other end of this doesn’t have a problem with killing.”

  On that note, Daniel saw us to the door.

  Camille turned before he closed it behind us. “Would you put us on your ‘safe’ list with the damned doorman? He was unaccountably snide.”

  “I’ll do that as soon as you leave.” And with another wave of the hand, Daniel shut the door. We heard the lock.

  “Okay, then. Over to Kendell’s?”

  “Let me tell Chase what we’re doing. We still have to fill him in on the sword, but how we’re going to do that without exposing Daniel, I’m not sure.” I punched in Chase’s number there and told him we were headed over to Kendell’s last known address.

  “Thanks. I was about to send a man over. Just watch your step and call me if you need anything.” He sounded tired. “Oh, and Delilah? I want to know what the hell is up with that sword that makes murder an option.”

  “Promise. But later.” As I punched the END TALK button, we headed back to the parking lot. Camille texted me the directions to Kendell’s house and we dodged the pouring rain as we ran across the lot to our cars.

  She was right. Kendell hadn’t lived very far from where Daniel lived, and it took us ten minutes to make the drive, but for the difference in neighborhoods, it could have been ten hours. We ended up in Lakeshore Heights, a seedier area of the city. It wasn’t that crime was so apparent, or that the area looked like a dive, but the houses were weathered, the lawns less manicured, the cars cheaper models and makes. And there was a general feeling of unease. I knew that this area was supposed to be rife with gang activity, but if it was, then it was behind closed doors, or kept for the evening.

  As we pulled into a driveway, the squat yellow house seemed to be empty. No other cars were in the area, and the house looked silent. But then I saw a child run around from the back. She was about four and she was carrying a ball. Oh wonderful, did Kendell have a family and children? And did they know what he did for a living?

  I got out of the car, motioning for Shade to wait. Camille joined me, with Roz and Morio staying in the Lexus. We walked up the sidewalk, eyeing the little girl, who was playing over beneath a tree, ignoring us.

  At the door, Camille knocked and I stood back a step or two. A moment later, a woman answered the door, looking frazzled, in a torn pair of jeans and a dirty tank top. Her hair was yanked back into a mop of a blond ponytail, and she was barefoot, and carrying a dust rag.

  She gave us the once-over, looking puzzled. “Yes?”

  “Hi.” Camille flashed her an easy smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt you but is Kendell at home?”

  “I’m sorry. He went to work, I think.” The woman looked more impatient than ever. “You can leave a message on his door.”

  “His door?” I glanced at Camille. This wasn’t going like we’d planned. “Kendell gave us this address as his.”

  “Yeah. He rents a room in the basement. Look, I’m busy. I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of housework, and if I don’t get the house clean for company tonight, my mother-in-law is going to make me feel like shit.” She brushed a harried hand across her forehead, looking exasperated.

  His landlady, then.

  “I’m sorry we interrupted you, but Kendell . . . There was an accident this morning and Kendell was . . . he’s dead. We were wondering if you know if he has any family in the area?” Camille smiled gently, trying to soften the shock, but she needn’t have bothered.

  The woman shrugged. “Thanks for telling me. He just moved in a few days ago. Looks like I’ll have to put up the FOR RENT sign again. I have no clue about who he was or whether he has kin around here. Send the cops over if they want his stuff. Meanwhile, I have to go.” And she slammed the door in our faces.

  I blinked. “Rude, much?”

  Turning, I headed back to the sidewalk and the others followed me. The little girl giggled and waved, apparently deciding to notice us. When we were by the curb, Camille glanced back at the house.

  “Well, then. I guess we should have Chase send somebody over here to pick up Kendell’s effects. Maybe they’ll hold some clue. Obviously we’re not going to get in to look at them.”

  “I’m at a loss.” I frowned, then remembered Lucias. “You know, let’s go to the FH-CSI and see how Lucias is doing. Maybe there’s something about the man that he noticed . . . something that he can remember now that he’s had some medical care.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” Camille tucked her phone in her bra—her tops were always low cut enough for her to do so—and she hopped in the driver’s seat as I returned to the Jeep. I swung into the car and fastened my seat belt.

  Shade looked at me. “What did you find out?”

  “Kendell rented a room in the basement, and his landlady is a bitch. We’re headed to the FH-CSI. Maybe Lucias can remember something else about him now that he’s had some time to recover.”

  The ride there took half an hour. Traffic was beginning to pick up. It was two thirty now, and we were growing closer to rush hour. The rain was still beating steadily, and along the curbsides, little rivers of water were beginning to form. The clouds were socked in so thick that it was already growing dark. Seattle might not be the rain capital of the United States, but we had only sixty-some days that were cloud-free. The rest of the time it was overcast or partially overcast.

  Back over the 520 Bridge, and I realized I’d forgotten my Good To Go! Pass, which meant I’d be receiving a bill in the mail. The bridge had been turned into a toll bridge a year or so ago, while they built the new one alongside it. I had no clue when the new one would be done, but it was going to take several years; there was no doubt of that. Back across the bridge, in Seattle proper, we headed toward the FH-CSI, which was on Thatcher Avenue, right over the border in the Belles-Faire District.

  The building was four stories, three of them underground. On the main floor was the law enforcement headquarters, and the medical unit. The first floor below ground level was the arsenal. Second was where the prisoners were held. Third was the laboratory and morgue, as well as the archives. There were rumors of another, hidden floor, and Nerissa had all but confirmed that was true, but Chase wouldn’t discuss it, saying only that the info was on a NTK basis.

  We swung through the front doors, and even though there was no indication, a soft glow of green light from ceiling cameras recorded our movements. But more than that, the cameras had been enchanted so that they could—at the push of a button—let loose a spray of a knockout drug that would incapacitate a giant or an ogre.

  We stopped in HQ to talk to Chase. He was flipping through a file, talking to Yugi, when we walked in. Chase had been promoted to director and head detective when his boss had died during a troll attack. Actually, his boss died from a case of stupiditis, but either way—troll or idiocy—Devins had bitten the dust and Chase had taken over, much to his fellow officers’ relief.

  Yugi, a Swedish empath, gave us a wave as he turned back to his office, taking the file with him. Chase motioned us into one of the break rooms.

  “Hey, what’s up?” He looked harried, but no more than usual. As he poured himself a cup of coffee and added sugar and cream, we dropped into chairs around one of the long tables. “Coffee?”

  As one, we shook our heads. We all knew what the station coffee was like, and none of us braved the mud, unless we were desperate for a caffeine jolt. The stuff was so highly caffeinated and so thick that it made me think of radioactive sludge.

  “We wanted to talk to Lucias again, to see if there’s anything else he can remember about the man who attacked him. We’re kind of at a dead end here for now.” Camille pulled out Kendell’s file and shoved it across the tabl
e to Chase. “Kendell had just rented a room at that address. You might want to send someone over to pick up his belongings. His landlady’s a piece of work.”

  Chase picked up the file and flipped through it, then sighed. “We couldn’t find any clue of a relative. Unless there’s something in his effects, we’re at a dead end there, too. Have you asked the Triple Threat? Is he on the rolls of Talamh Lonrach Oll?”

  “No, but that’s on the list. We’ll tell you about the sword later, but here is not the place. Meanwhile, we’ll go talk to Lucias, but I suppose you already have?” I paused, an idea coming to me. “Do you have a mug file for the Fae? Is that how you found Kendell?”

  “Yeah. Now we’re checking out all known associations he has in the area—especially ones with magical leanings. I’ve got Yugi on it. If anybody can track down info, he can. Lucias was really banged up. He lucked out he didn’t end up dead, girls.” With that, Chase headed out the door.

  As we crossed out of the CSI division and into the medical unit, Mallen was studying a chart by the nurses’ station. The medical unit was primarily for Supe emergencies when it came to crime victims, but lately there had been talk in the Supe Community about the need for a hospital dedicated to Supes only. He looked up from the page as we approached.

  “Good to see you again. What can I do for you?” Even though his smile was cool, we knew he meant it. Elves were far more reserved than humans or Fae, and a faint smile from them was as good as a grin.

  “We need to talk to Lucias, if he’s awake.”

  Mallen arched his eyebrows. “Just don’t tire him out. He’s in stable condition but it could easily have been worse. He’s in Room 12. Down the hall and to the right. Do you want me to come with you?”