“Right,” Huck said. He led Aaron up the steps to Demi’s door. The doorframe had been repaired and the lock replaced. He hadn’t even considered how they were going to get in. “Shit.” He felt around top of the doorframe and looked under a potted plant nearby, but no key. “I guess the landlord had it fixed?”
“Maybe,” Aaron said. “Or the police called a locksmith. I hope it’s the latter. Less chance the place will have been cleaned up in that case. Let’s duck around back. Might be another way in.”
The pair tried not to look suspicious to anyone who might peer down from one of the surrounding residential buildings. Appearing innocent was harder than it sounded, considering what they were up to. They tried the back door, but found it locked. “Too bad Munro isn’t here,” Aaron said. “He’s good with metal. Probably could have popped this lock with a touch of magic. Wait a second. There.” He pointed up. In the back, on the third floor up, a window was cracked open.
“Damn,” Huck muttered.
Aaron laughed. “You’re thinking like a human.” With a quick glance at the surrounding area, he shifted into top speed, dancing from corner to ledge to window sill. Within seconds, he’d reached the window and slipped inside. A minute later and he’d opened the back door from within.
Huck stepped in, pulling the blinds all the way down before flicking on a light. The house smelled stale, and his sensitive nose detected the tang of blood in the air, masked ineffectively by cleaning solutions. He wished he could throw open
all
the windows.
“Where do we start?” Aaron asked.
“I’ve not been in this part of the house,” Huck said. “Never got past the living room on either visit. I guess we go by floor.”
“Okay,” Aaron said. “I’ll start at the top and you take the bottom?”
For some reason, Huck didn’t like the idea of anyone else invading the Hartmanns’ privacy in their upstairs bedrooms. “Other way,” he said. “I’ll go up.”
Aaron shrugged. “Whatever, mate.”
Huck noticed a pile of shoes by the door including some rugged hiking books, rubber garden slippers, and a child-sized pair of bright blue plimsolls. The garden shoes had a layer of dust on them as though they hadn’t been touched in a very long time. On a hunch, Huck squatted down and grabbed one, tipping it over. A flat, round stone the size of an American quarter clattered to the floor. Tiny carved runes covered both sides, their complexity putting them beyond his reading skills.
“What the hell?” Aaron said quietly, looking over Huck’s shoulder.
“Search for these ward stones at all the doors and windows. We should take them with us,” he said.
“Might be better to leave this place protected,” Aaron said.
Huck pocketed the stone and shook his head. “No matter what happens, none of the Hartmanns are safe returning to this house.”
“Fair enough,” Aaron said. He casually poked around the small utility room. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been back here lately,” he said.
“You’re right,” Huck said. “The front entry is a floor up from here. I know Demi moved a stone like this one to let Flùranach in.” Guilt surged over him. If only they’d not asked her to. “That’s where Ulrich and Demi fought…and where he died.”
“Okay,” Aaron said. “Lead the way. Makes sense to start there.”
Huck went through a small corridor and found a staircase winding upward into the kitchen. He flicked on lights as they passed through each room. Beyond that was a small dining area, which led to a landing. He pointed through an archway. “The living room is through there.” He drew in his breath, preparing himself for the distasteful snooping he was about to do.
“Got it,” Aaron said and made his way towards the front of the house.
Huck didn’t know why he felt guilty. He was trying to save Demi’s life, but he hated invading her privacy. Bracing himself, he took the stairs two at a time.
The flat only had two bedrooms, and all three shared one small bathroom. He gave the public areas a brief glance, opening the hall closet and quickly rummaging through the linens.
He went to the larger of the two bedrooms first. One of the two beds had dark blue sheets with rockets and moons printed on them. Absently, Huck closed and locked the window Aaron had used to get in. He poked around Jago’s things, not expecting to find much of interest. He did discover six more protective ward stones, one affixed on each wall, another in the light fixture above, and one under the boy’s bed.
Rifling through the chest of drawers, he found the top dedicated to the boy’s clothing, the middle contained neatly folded women’s undergarments, and the bottom held a few adult-sized sweaters. All the drawers were at least half-empty, the family having clearly packed away what they could, preparing to leave in a hurry. Guiltily, Huck ran his hands inside the drawers, through the clothes, and under the bottoms of the drawers as Munro had instructed. Nothing stood out but the discarded remnants of a life they would never return to.
Again following the ex-cop’s advice, Huck up-ended the mattresses and opened boxes. Just when he was about to move on to Demi’s bedroom, he came across a small box behind a stack of pillows crammed under the bed. Letters of varying ages concealed an old, leather-bound diary. Inside was page after page of fae runes. As with any runes, the magic of understanding came more from reading the intent of the creator than the characters.
Huck sat on the bed, flipping through the pages. Dread curled in his stomach. He feared the book would reveal something he didn’t want to know. He forced himself to read anyway. His rune reading skill wasn’t as advanced as Munro’s or even Douglas’, but the emotion dripping from the pages screamed at him.
He returned to the first entry. June 1957. One rune repeatedly jumped off the page in the jumble of the ones Huck couldn’t interpret. Over and over, Lisle’s fine, talented hand had inscribed the word
Ulrich
. Huck sat back, stunned. Lisle had known Ulrich when she was in her twenties, a young woman married to a local German man. The worst part was that she’d more than known the faerie: she’d been in love with him. Never for a moment did Huck doubt the faerie mentioned in the text was the same Ulrich who’d seduced Demi. Ulrich had been many hundreds of years old at the time of his death. How old, Huck wasn’t certain, but that he’d barely had a wrinkle on his face didn’t mean a thing. Not with the fae.
Huck read on. By the autumn of 1957, Lisle’s infatuation with Ulrich had turned to obsession. She’d hoped he would sweep her away from her mundane life. But suddenly, towards the end of that year, he disappeared. He exited her life as swiftly as he’d entered it. Her marriage survived her infidelity, but the relationship left her with deep emotional scars.
Huck skimmed, trying to unravel the story from the clusters of runes he understood. Lisle had gotten on with her life, staying with her husband until the end, but never revealing the truth to him. Still, even with sometimes years-long gaps between entries, Ulrich’s name featured prominently.
Towards the end of the journal, the entries focused more on magic, on the abilities that her contact with the fae prince had unlocked, and the insights she’d gathered through dedicated practice and study of the family documents. Even after all that time, she regarded her talents as a lasting remnant of Ulrich’s presence in her life.
The regular entries stopped somewhere in the 1980s. Perhaps after thirty years, she’d given up on the idea of him returning. Then, on the very last page, Huck read one last entry, dated five years ago, around the time Demi told grandmother she was pregnant. The entry was short, one of the few of which Huck understood every rune.
My sins have returned to claim the payment due.
That was the last entry. Huck closed the book, his hand shaking. If Ulrich hadn’t been dead, Huck would have wanted to kill him all over again. Lisle had a child in 1958. Demi’s father. Huck’s mind reeled.
“What did you find?” Aaron asked from the doorway, his gaze fastened on the rune-covered volume in Huck’s hands.
Huck stood and tucked the book into his pocket. “A potential motive for murder,” he said.
“Lisle?”
The question rattled around in Huck’s mind. Honestly, the situation gave both Lisle and Demi a reason to want Ulrich dead. If he had seduced his own granddaughter, and she learned who he really was, Demi had as much reason to want him dead as Lisle. If he
wasn’t
Demi’s grandfather, would Lisle have been jealous? Would she kill him for coming back and preferring her young granddaughter? Judging by what Huck had learned, Ulrich had a way of provoking strong emotions.
Huck sighed. “I’m not sure,” he said. “It might not mean anything.”
Aaron leaned in the doorway. “Want to talk about it?”
Although he considered pouring out his story, Huck gave a shake of his head. Something in him didn’t want anyone else involved. Not yet. If Demi didn’t suspect Ulrich may have been her grandfather, Huck didn’t want her finding out because folks were passing around Lisle’s diary. If she did know…
Too many variables
, he thought.
Too many uncertainties.
“What about you? Any luck?” Huck asked, joining Aaron in the corridor.
“Nothing useful,” Aaron said. “More ward stones. Like you said, they put them by every door and window. Looks like Ulrich never got past them. I saw the bloodstain on the carpet, which someone has tried to clean up. Beyond that, nothing appeared out of place.”
“Okay,” Huck said, disappointed but hardly surprised. They weren’t forensics experts or anything. When Munro had talked to them about how to search, the former cop seemed more hopeful they’d learn something from the neighbours than that they’d find a smoking gun.
“You done up here?” Aaron asked.
Huck glanced towards the final room, Demi’s bedroom. He didn’t want to rummage through her things. He’d done enough damage. “I haven’t been in there,” he said.
As though he understood, Aaron nodded. “I’ll check,” he offered. Without waiting for an answer, he stepped into the bedroom and did a quick search, running his hand under the mattress, and peering under the bed. After glancing through the remaining contents of the dressers and closet, he announced, “Not much here.”
“They were already packed to move to the Druid Hall,” Huck said. The realisation made him wonder why Lisle would have left the book behind.
A knock sounded downstairs at the front door, startling both men.
“That must be Flùr and Rory. Time to go,” Aaron said.
“Right,” Huck said. Briefly meeting Aaron’s eyes, he added, “Thanks.”
∞
Rory’s hands shook. He banged on the door of Demi’s flat, louder this time.
What had he done?
When Aaron and Huck answered, Rory blurted out, “We have to go. Now.”
The other two men stepped out and shut the door. “Shit,” Aaron said. “We can’t lock it from the outside without a key.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Huck said. “We’re not coming back.” He turned to Rory. “The place is clean.”
“We need to leave. Now,” Rory repeated, glancing around. He grabbed Aaron’s shoulder and gave him a light shove towards the street.
Huck and Aaron looked surprised, but nothing matched the shock on Flùranach’s face. She’d worn the same startled expression for the last ten minutes, since they’d been attacked. Rory tried not to think about what had happened. They’d been desperately lucky.
The four of them left quickly, making their way through the streets of Amsterdam. Rory barely cared if they were seen. He ran as fast as his druidic magic would carry him, to the point that his legs burned with strain. As planned, they headed south and west, but not back towards the Belgian gate. They’d assumed before they’d left that the broken gate couldn’t return them to the Druid Hall. After their experience coming through, Rory was convinced they’d guessed correctly.
Huck led them towards the same ferry station he and Lisle had taken to England before. This trip, they weren’t slowed by an elderly human who’d never felt the touch of Otherworld air, so they didn’t have to bother with trains.
By the time they’d reached the Hook of Holland, Rory’s nerves had settled.
“What the hell happened back there?” Huck finally asked. “You might as well tell us. Our ferry doesn’t arrive for two hours, and I’m not going to shut up until you do.”
Flùranach answered for Rory. “We were attacked,” she said. “Rory defended me.”
Rory searched her eyes for hints of amusement, but he found none. Ever since she’d said the bonding words to him, he sensed the connection with her, but the experience was definitely different from last time. He shut the idea down. He didn’t want to think about
last time
. He needed to move past those dark days.
“What?” Aaron exclaimed. “By whom?”
“I’m pretty sure it was one of Konstanze’s Watchers,” Rory said. “We’d only gotten through one building of flats when he came after us.”
Huck looked at Flùranach. “But you stopped him?”
Of course they assumed she would have done the fighting.
Rory’s instinct to feel insulted melted as quickly as it appeared. He was an absolute moron. What was he thinking, punching a faerie? Punching him? A human using physical violence against a faerie was like a kitten going after a wolfhound. Oddly though, the fury of Rory’s reaction startled the guy so much, Rory’d gotten in a second swing. That one sent the Watcher to the floor.