The Glass Gargoyle (The Lost Ancients Book 1) (13 page)

I regretted the waste of my mouthful of ale. After all the years I’d known Harlan you would think I’d learn how not to react to his pronouncements. There was reality, there was bald-faced lying, and somewhere in-between was Harlan’s version.

“No, no. Don’t look at me like that. There’s evidence!” He scrambled around his many pockets and dug until he found a small stone. “Bone fragment. Phalange.”

I reached out for the small white item dubiously. “You can’t just say finger?”

Harlan frowned but kept quiet.

I wasn’t a bone expert, but I was good. The experts could use their magic to determine exactly how old an artifact or bone was. Us non-experts just had to go by hunch.

The piece was old. It was longer than one of my finger bones, but had been rubbed down by time. Or it could be a more recent bone exposed to a lot of water.

I handed it back. “From one fragment, you’re certain they found an elf?”

“Not when you say it like that. Not in context at all.” The fur on the back of his neck flared. Clearly I was stating the same argument the others at the table had been. “There’s the closure, the blocking of all trained personnel. Then a sudden opening and mysterious bone fragments where none had been before!”

Crap. “What do you mean where none were before? Who found this?” I knew of a whole pile of bones that had been in that jungle. Could that finger have come from a small giant? Granted the body hadn’t been cut down to bone bits when I found it, but there were plenty of spells that could break it down to bone fragments.

Of course, since I hadn’t told Harlan about the body, he had no idea where my concern came from.

“Now, see here, no need to jump all over me.” He wrinkled his nose. “I found them. And I know there were no fragments in my dig site a week ago. And before you ask, yes, there were others. But most were too small.”

I was going to have to tell him about the dwarf giant. But certainly not here and not around these people.

“You may be right,” I said as I watched the jaws of all those around the table drop. I hated to let Harlan think he had found the secret find of the archeological world, but I needed to distract all of them from my sudden interest. I had a bad feeling a dead mini-giant had been dragged over to the ruins and disintegrated. Hell, a syclarion wouldn’t have even needed a spell.

Chapter 15

Obviously Harlan knew me better than I thought. His face lit up for a fraction of a second at my words, then folded in on itself when he looked me in the eye.

Luckily his hangers-on weren’t that astute. They also decided that I was fair game to argue with whether or not I had actually murdered my landlady.

The argument became heated, with the members of Harlan’s posse turning on themselves as much if not more than Harlan and I. Eventually Harlan and I were able to make an escape without notice.

The pub was pretty full, but Harlan found a spot near the drunken corner, so named because of all the drunks who got dumped there when people wanted their seats. Luckily there weren’t any casualties yet.

Like it or not, I was going to have to fill Harlan in on the mini-giant situation.

He took the information much better than I expected. But it was only because he was so mad at me for not telling him immediately.

“I really thought it best to wait.” I fought my way through his low-volume tirade to get a few words in.

“There is no reason…you
used
to come to me about things like this!”

Now he was pissed and hurt. “Harlan, I was barely able to walk when I saw you. I was a little distracted. And Covey saved all of the information.” Covey wasn’t going to be happy to share, but if I had to toss her under the donkey cart a little at this point, I’d do so.

“So you’re telling me now because you felt bad?” His whiskers perked up a bit. He trusted Covey’s information gathering abilities even if the two didn’t always see eye to eye. He was willing to forgive me if I gave him a chance.

“Exactly.” I gave him my best smile, the one he said reminded him of the faeries. Which really wasn’t a compliment when one thought about it. “I needed you to know.” I took a deep breath and lowered my voice. “There was a syclarion in the ruins when I was there. I think he was moving the mini-giant. I think those bone fragments may be his.”

The frown slammed back onto Harlan’s furry face. Pulling the finger bone out of his pocket, he turned the scowl to it. “This looks too old.”

I shrugged. I had to agree on that, but I also knew the situation was suspicious. “Who knows what a syclarion is capable of? The destruction of the body could have artificially aged it.”

“Or it could be an elf.” Harlan bounced back faster than a drunken minotaur in a rubber factory and was twice as tenacious.

“Regardless of what that belonged to, I wanted you to know. You’re getting it cast I assume?” Having a low-level bone mage run a scan would solve the dilemma, at least as far as age went. I just didn’t want Harlan to be disappointed if the bone came back as recent. And of a giant.

“First thing in the morning, before I go to the site.” He was losing interest in me and back to fondling his bone. That it might be from my predecessor didn’t settle my stomach. The concept of ancient bones were one thing, I got squeamish around ones that had recently departed from their owners. I was just thinking of getting ready to head home, when a constable barged into the pub.

Even though most folks were, I’m sure, not doing anything illegal at the moment, the crowd at the Shimmering Dewdrop was such that a cop always meant trouble.

I figured I was safe this time. There was only one guard and she wasn’t trying to stun me. She was, however, heading my direction. With a small cage holding three tiny blurs of color.

Pissed blurs of color. In both senses of the word. I could smell the beer on them from two feet away.

“Taryn St. Giles, your faeries have been found in violation of city codes 5.448 and 7.221.” The round little woman spoke as if I would know what those were. I waited for her to elaborate, or at least set down the cage, then I finally gave in.

“I have no idea what those codes are, and I don’t really own…” Crusty stopped moving long enough for me to actually get a good look at her. She was covered in blood and bits of fur.

Crap. They’d been feuding with a large squirrel clan down the block. Had they finally come to bloodshed?

“Disturbing a public park and torturing park wildlife.” The guard held the cage higher. “If they are not yours then I cannot release them to you.”

I rubbed the heels of both hands into my eyes. Maybe if I waited long enough she’d take them away. Torturing wildlife? Hell, the faeries weren’t all that advanced over the squirrels.

A cough brought me back. Harlan glared at me under his furry brows.

Damn it. Even if I was ready to abandon them, which I wasn’t if I was honest with myself, Harlan would never let me. It was just nice to engage in the fantasy that I could.

“They’re mine. What exactly did they do?” Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. I took the cage but didn’t let them out. They weren’t coming out until I had three full beer bottles to put them in.

“They willfully engaged in antagonizing a family of tree squirrels who reside within park grounds. They then set up a fire with a spit in front of said squirrels—”

I held the cage to my face and rattled it. “You butchered a squirrel family?”

“Actually, they had purchased kabobs down the street from one Kaboob Kadine, street vendor. They then made themselves look like they were covered in blood and fur and roasted the pieces of meat.” The guard continued as if I hadn’t even interrupted her.

I tried to keep from laughing. It really was inspired, twisted, but inspired. Laughing would probably only increase my fine. “I see.” I rattled the cage to hide my smile. “They will be soundly punished.”

“And there is a two-penny fine.”

My rattling became real. “Very soundly punished. “

Luckily for the girls, Harlan rose to his feet, reached into his waist pocket, and pulled out two coins. “Officer, I will make amends.” He handed her the coins, then bowed with a flourish.

The guard melted like she’d like to become wife number four. Or five, I never could keep track.

“Well, then, since you’ve taken care of everything…My name is Grizalinda.”

Yup, the guard was smitten.

“Thank you so much, Grizalinda, for returning our wayward little waifs.” Harlan carefully and deliberately began drawing her away and toward the door. He’d have her on her way in no time, all the while thinking it was her idea.

I waited until she was out of range, then took my cage over to the bar. “I need three beers to go, full metal caps.”

Foxy took one look at the cage and the bouncing faeries, then shook his head.

“I didn’t give them anything this time.” He popped the tops off for me. The metal ones had more secure caps and would stay shut no matter what I did to the bottles.

“I know,” I said as I reached in the cage and grabbed a tiny arm. Luckily it was Leaf, she was the calmest of the three and didn’t fight much. Silently I stuffed her into the bottle and closed the lid. “But someone did. May have been some vagrant in the park.”

I swore as I reached in for the next faery and got stabbed in the finger.

“Damn it! Put down your weapons!”

Insane giggling came from the two remaining faeries. I held up one of the unoccupied bottles of beer. “If you’re good, you can each have a full one.”

Both faeries dropped their pitchforks and folded to the bottom of the cage.

Taking advantage of the lull, I grabbed Garbage and shoved her in the next bottle before she could re-think surrendering. She always got belligerent when drunk; most likely she was the one who stabbed me.

Which left me with Crusty Bucket still unbottled. She now had picked up both of the pitchforks and was weaving back and forth, eying me through the tiny bars of the cage. I had made a mistake—she should have been the first I grabbed.

“Bring me minkies! Dancing minkies to and fro, dancing minkies go go go!” Her song was horrific, painful, and probably illegal in some countries. The obscene dance she did with it didn’t help.

Unlike the time a few nights ago, there wasn’t a major pub brawl to distract the crowd.

They all heard her. Some wailed and ran away, some stood to fight, and others cowered as their lives passed before their eyes.

I had to get that damn faery in the beer bottle.

I almost broke the cage door as I ripped it open. Crusty kept singing and danced to the back of her cage. Using her pitchforks, she took a few swipes at my hand.

Tilting the cage, I grabbed her as she tumbled past. I swear she was so drunk she squished beer where I grabbed her. In a fluid motion, difficult with two mini pitchforks sticking out of my hand, I slammed the drunken and singing faery into the remaining beer bottle and locked it shut.

The pub was silent for an instant as the singing stopped. Then they all started yelling.

At me.

Foxy and Harlan both tried to come to my defense, but the crowd was hell bent on blood. Singing faeries were outlawed as a torture device by most civilized countries.

“Stop!” Dogmaela roared into the crowd.

A pissed troll was definitely worse than a singing faery. The singing faery wouldn’t tear your arms off and beat you with them.

“You will stop now.” She dropped her voice as she flexed her arms. Arms as wide as most grown men’s thighs. Holding their attention, she then turned toward me. “Faeries go now, yes?”

Grabbing my bottles, I nodded my thanks. “Yes, faeries go now.” With a nod to Harlan and Foxy, I ran for the door. I knew Dogmaela wouldn’t let the crowd go until I had a good lead. And most likely they wouldn’t follow. But that wasn’t a chance I could take.

I was so busy working on getting ahead of anyone following me that I didn’t notice the man in front of me until I slammed into him.

I tumbled to the ground but rolled myself around the beer bottles. The last thing I needed was to have those three get out before they sobered up.

I lay there as I counted my bottles, then looked up to see a familiar pair of melting brown eyes.

Marcos was possibly the last person I expected. I’d been trying to find him all over, then I literally run into him. What were the odds?

“Ah, my lady,” he said as he lowered a hand to help me up.

Problem was I couldn’t take it with the beer in my hands and didn’t want to lie on the ground while I explained it to him.

Shaking my head, I rolled to my knees and slowly rose to my feet.

“Sorry, I can’t take a chance with these bottles.”

“They can make more. I will even buy it for you.”

Being talked down to by a man who screamed like a girl in public didn’t make for a happy me.

“Not like these you can’t,” I said as I held one of the bottles up to his ear. Even though Crusty had been the first to start singing, I could hear all of them doing it now. Or rather feel it, as their voices echoed through the bottles as vibrations.

Luckily I hadn’t handed him the bottle. He jumped about a foot away as soon as he heard what was in there.

Now unlike the patrons of the Shimmering Dewdrop, there was no way Marcos could have gotten a full earful of the tuneless wailing. Clearly, he knew faery singing well enough to recognize it, no matter how faint.

“Why are you carrying them in there?” He practically crawled out of his skin. He knew faeries very well, I’d say.

“I need to get them home, and they’re drunk.” I held up the hand that only had one bottle. “Don’t ask. Suffice it to say I have these faeries, they sometimes get drunk, and I have to shove them in bottles. It’s how they get sober.” I shook my head. Maybe I should write a faery primer for my friends.

“I know.” His voice was low and he seemed to be arguing with himself. Finally he shook his head. “I understand. I will escort you home since I was unable to finish my task yesterday.”

Had it only been yesterday? So much had been happening that I’d really lost track of time.

“Yeah, about yesterday—”

“For leaving you, I am sorry. I had been bitten by a lada bug, and I am deathly allergic to them.”

I was willing to cut him some slack; he was sexy enough to eat with a spoon and hold the napkin. But bald-faced lying? It must be a male ego thing.