“You, dear sister, would make anyone think I had the memory of a fish.”
“Well, it is a truth universally known that, when it comes to your brain, day to day events have little memory traction in comparison to relics.”
He laughed. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. See you tomorrow night.”
“I shall bring wine and champers.”
“Excellent.”
I smiled, hung up, and sent the image across to him before I forgot, then finished my tea and contemplated my next step. Before I could decide what that should be, Mathi rang.
“When I said afternoon, I meant late afternoon, not a few minutes after noon,” I drawled by way of hello.
“Yes, sorry, but there’s been another break-in, this time in Handbridge.”
Handbridge was one of Deva’s more upmarket districts, located on the southside of the river. “Same M.O.?”
“Almost exactly. I thought we could go around there to see if you can pick anything up.”
“And your father?” I said, amused. “He made it pretty clear yesterday he thought I was a hindrance rather than a help.”
“He respects your abilities, Bethany, and to repeat what I’ve already said, he does not hate you. But you’re a pixie, and a middle class one at that, and he is, above all else, a Ljósálfar of royal blood in his middle years. He cannot help his manner.”
Which didn’t excuse it. At all. Still, it wasn’t like a leopard could change its spots this late in the game.
“I take it you’re on the way now to pick me up?”
“No, you have half an hour. I need to finish a few things here at the office first.”
“That at least gives me time to shower.”
“You don’t need someone to scrub your back? Happy to volunteer, dearest Bethany.”
“The days of you, me, and adventures in the shower are well and truly over, as you well know.”
His sigh was more than a little on the dramatic side. “Indeed, I do, but I continue to live in hope.”
“You already have three prospects to share a shower with,” I said, amused. “You don’t need a fourth.”
“I’m Ljósálfar,” he drawled. “It’sneverabout needing, it’salwaysabout wanting.”
I rolled my eyes, said, “I’ll wait at the top of the lane for you,” and then hung up.
After finishing my tea, I headed into the bathroom for a quick shower, then got dressed. The wind whipped around me, coming in from the window I’d locked open about an inch almost a week ago now, chilling my skin even as it stirred an idea.
I grabbed my coat, phone, and handbag, and clattered down the stairs, heading out the back of the building and down the old lane that led into St Werburgh Street. Almost directly across the road was my target—a lovely red sandstone cathedral.
As I waited for a gap in the traffic, I dragged out my phone and sent Mathi a text, letting him know where I’d be, then ran across the road to the wrought-iron gates. They squeaked as I opened them, but the sound was lost to the sudden rumble of thunder overhead. A storm was coming... not just weatherwise, but also life wise. I shivered but shoved the sliver of foresight aside and continued on.
The gardens that surrounded the cathedral were lovely, even in the middle of winter when there was a decided lack of color and foliage, but my target was down in the memorial section of the church grounds, where the freestanding bell tower stood. It was a far younger construct than the cathedral, having been commissioned in the early seventies after the original tower was deemed no longer safe to house the bells, and was a modern interpretation of the old Roman watchtowers that had once guarded Deva’s stone walls. Directly in front of it was a circular rose garden bed that almost completely surrounded a large seating platform. In the summer months it was usually claimed by parents resting up while their kids ran wild through the gardens, but right now the whole area was empty.
There were undoubtedly a myriad of other more comfortable places to commune with the wind, but they weren’t likely to be much safer—outside of a protective circle of magic, anyway.It might be mainly humans who considered church grounds sacrosanct, but there were very few other races who’d risk spilling blood on such holy ground. Karma, and all that.
Of course, I could now form a variation of a protective circle when gripping my knives, but it did take a toll on my energy, and I needed all that and every scrap of concentration to commune with the wind, at least until I was more practiced at this whole thing.
Overhead, the thunder cracked again. I silently counted—a childhood habit that I really had no need for now, given how easily I could read the power and locations of storms these days—but had barely reached three when lightning speared the heavy skies. While it never came close to striking me, its power shot through my body, making the tiny hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end. The storm felt impatient. Felt like it was ready and waiting for me to be one with it again.
I shivered yet again, briefly wondering at the advisability of this, especially when I had no real idea what my father had been trying to do when it came to the inner darkness. Still... it was the easiest way I knew of uncovering truths without being seen or involving someone else, and I basically had nothing to lose by trying. I sat down on the platform, crossed my legs and then tugged my coat over my knees. After a deep breath that did little to calm the nerves—though they came from the task I was about to assign the wind and the answers it might bring me more than anything else—I reached for the power and fury that raged above me.
