“A1 means first floor, first flat. That’s 1B.”
“Ah.” After a moment of deliberation, I pressed on 1B, the apartment of one Eris Delcourt.
A clear bell rang, followed by a sharp high-pitched bark. At Silver’s side, Amavi happily barked back, tail wagging.
Silver shot me a glare, but before she could voice her annoyance, the door opened in front of a woman who no doubt had been rather beautiful in her youth. Today, lines of care and puffiness under her eyes betrayed both age and tiredness.
“Mrs. Delcourt?” Silver started.
“That’s me,” she replied primly, as though expecting us to sell chariot warranties. “How may I help you?”
I saw the words that would come next: Silver would state her own name, her purpose, following by a series of questions, right here in the open, mere feet away from the criminal’s own home.
“Pardon the intrusion,” I quickly interjected. “But we wondered if you wouldn’t mind letting us know how you like living in the area? There’s a place for sale nearby, and we wanted to hear about the neighborhood.”
The woman’s eyes widened, a smile replacing all confusion. “Oh, the penthouse on the nineteenth circle? I’ve been there a few times. Elona’s a good friend. Come in, come in!” She waved us over. “It’s bloody cold outside. Especially for you.” Her eyes settled on my bare chest and she shook her head. “Young people these days. Anyway, I just baked some cookies. Good timing. You can help me get rid of some before they contribute to my ever-growing waistline.”
As she turned back to her door on the right, I levelled a smug grin at Silver, who lifted her hand, the middle finger up.
I tilted my head, whispering, “What does that mean?”
“You know what huntsmen are but you have no idea what it means when someone gives you the finger?” she hissed between her breath, following Mrs. Delcourt.
“What a funny expression, giving the finger. Where am I supposed to put it?”
“You don’t put it anywhere!” she scoffed. “It means fuck you, Cas.”
I chuckled. She was far too easy to rile up. “Anytime, doll.”
She swallowed her retort, as we’d reached Mrs. Delcourt’s kitchen. As promised, a tray full of almond cookies awaited us, and served with it, tea, and no small amount of gossip.
“Lovely place, that penthouse. Too big for Elona after the kids moved away. Pardon me, may the puppy have cookies?”
Amavi barked her assent.
“I’m not sure she can have almonds,” Silver mused.
I rolled my eyes. Hellhounds of the blood of Orthrus could digestsouls. “She can have almonds.”
“Well, the daughter went to Greece and the son, to London. Highvale isn’t a place for young people without the right name—or the right powers. Well, I don’t have to tell you that. It was very good when they let us in during the Age of Blood. Neither of you remember, but I was there. I’m from Germany originally. Half witch, half shifter; screwed twice. My own sister was caught by a mob protesting against the existence of supernatural creatures. Regulars are the worst?—”
She continued for some time, needing very little input from us. Silver munched on cookies, occasionally bobbing her head. I grunted in agreement.
The cookies were excellent.
“—very nice area, close to the temple, only a twenty-minute walk to the Hall of Truce. During the attack last week, we were entirely spared since we aren’t too close to the gates. Honestly, I’d make an offer myself, but my hips aren’t what they were. Ican’t take all those steps, and the elevator only works half the time. She told you about the elevator, yes?”
Silver nodded, taking another cookie.
“You’d move from this place?” I asked innocently enough, looking around the well-appointed room. “It looks great.”
The kitchen opened to a beautiful, light dining room. White walls, cornice and ceiling molding, handsome furnishings and blue upholstery; she had good taste and no small amount of pride in her house.
The little old lady sighed. “After thirty-five years, I’d hate to leave my house, but while the neighborhood as a whole is still one of the best in the Vale, I certainly can’t say the same about my new neighbor next door. A newcomer. Poor Mary had to move to assisted living and her husband’s been dead for ten years, so she rented the place out. Up at all hours, playing loud music at two in the morning, visitors all night. I don’t know how long I can put up with it. If I shift and bite his arse one of these full moons, it’ll be his bloody fault for ignoring my warnings!”
Silver frowned. “Surely you can complain to someone. The owner, Mary?”
“Well, I don’t want to worry her when she just got knee surgery, do I? There are no decent facilities here in the city for people our age. Highvale only seems to prioritize those who can live five centuries without getting a wrinkle, let alone weak knees. So she had to move to Italy.”
