House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City, #2)

“Yeah, tell me your gut impressions.”

Ithan noted the mer around him. Their hearing might not be as keen as his, but … “I think we should be somewhere more secure.”

Tharion made a hmm of contemplation. Then he called to the group of investigators, “Any further insights, kids?”

No one answered.

Tharion sighed. “All right. Let’s get her bagged up and brought back to the lab. I want tests done as soon as possible, along with an ID.”

The others broke apart, heading to the aquatic vehicles lined up along the Blue River’s edge, tethered in place with their water magic. Leaving Ithan and Tharion with the body.

The mer male arched a brow. “I need to head to the Blue Court, but I’d like to hear your findings while they’re fresh. Do you have time?”

“I got nothing but time,” Ithan answered.

He wondered when having all that time would stop feeling like such a chore.

“So, let’s hear it,” Tharion said as he slumped into his office chair and turned on his computer.

Ithan Holstrom stood at the wall of glass, gazing out at the deep blue of the Istros, observing the fish and otters dart past. The wolf had said little while Tharion had brought him Beneath, though from his wide eyes, it was clear he’d never been here before.

Ithan said without turning, “Let’s assume the players involved are the ones we think they are. I think the selkie found the kid, helped him on his way toward Lunathion. Not soon afterward, given how his scent is still on her clothes, the selkie was found and tortured by a human woman for intel on Emile’s location. From what we know about her, my guess is Pippa Spetsos.”

Tharion’s mouth twisted to the side. “My techs said the kill was about a day old. That line up with your info?”

“Yeah, though probably less than a day. But the kid’s scent on her clothes was older than that. Only by six hours or so.”

“Why?” Tharion propped his chin on his hands.

“Because she couldn’t have gone in the water—or changed her clothes, if the scent was still on her. As far as I know, selkies rarely go a day before shifting and swimming. The water would have washed the kid’s scent from her.”

Tharion considered, turning over the information in his mind. “We didn’t pick up any tracks from the kid in the clearing, though.”

“No,” Ithan agreed, turning back to him. “Emile was never in that clearing. The selkie must have come there afterward.”

Tharion peered at the map of Crescent City and its surrounding lands behind his desk. “That spot is between the boat I investigated and the city. If he linked up with the selkie somewhere around there, he is indeed moving toward Lunathion. And if that kill is less than a day old, he might have just gotten here.”

“And Pippa Spetsos, if that’s whose scent was on the female, could be here as well.”

“Or one of her soldiers, I guess,” Tharion admitted. “Either way, Lightfall is near. We need to be careful.”

“Pippa is a human woman.”

“She’s a dangerous rebel, capable of killing Vanir thanks to those gorsian bullets. And a psychopath who delights in killing even the most innocent. We’re not going near her without prep and thought.” Hopefully they would find Emile first and not need to deal with Pippa at all.

Ithan snorted. “We can take her. My brother took down Philip Briggs.”

“Something tells me Pippa might be worse than Briggs.”

“Come on,” Ithan said, scoffing.

Tharion didn’t bother to keep the gravity from his face. “I like being alive. I’m not going to risk death because you’ve got an outsize view of your wolf skills.”

“Fuck you.”

Tharion shrugged. “My river, my rules, pup.”

Thunder from far above echoed in the quiet halls, rattling even the thick glass.

“I can go after her on my own.”

Tharion smirked. “Not while you’re stuck down here.”

Ithan sized him up. “Really? You’d trap me?”

“For your own safety, yeah. You know what Bryce would do to me if you wound up dead? I’d never get to fondle her underwear again.”

Ithan gaped at him. Then burst out laughing. It was a rich sound, a little hoarse—like he hadn’t done it in a while. “I’m surprised Athalar lets you live.”

“You know what Bryce would do to Hunt if I wound up dead?” Tharion grinned. “My sweet Legs has my back.”

“Why do you call her that?” Ithan asked cautiously.

Tharion shrugged again. “You really want me to answer that?”

“No.”

Tharion smirked. “Anyway, the real question is whether Emile is headed toward the place Danika hinted at in her email.”

Holstrom had already filled him in on the papers and news clippings he and Bryce had uncovered yesterday, but none had any link to a potential rendezvous location.

The door to Tharion’s office opened, and one of his officers, Kendra, strode in. The blond sentinel stopped short upon seeing Ithan, hair swaying around her. She looked to Tharion, who nodded. She was free to speak around the wolf.

“Boss wants you in her quarters. She’s, ah … in a mood.”

Fuck. “I thought I heard thunder.” Tharion jerked his chin at the door as Kendra left. “There’s a lounge down this hall on the left. Feel free to watch TV, help yourself to snacks, whatever. I’ll be back … soon. Then we can start sniffing around for the kid.” And hopefully avoid Pippa Spetsos.

He used the walk to his queen’s quarters to steady his nerves against whatever storm was brewing. It had to be bad, if it was raining Above during the dry summer months.

Bryce fanned her face in the summer heat, thanking Ogenas, Bringer of Storms, for the rain that was moments away from falling. Or whatever Vanir might be throwing a temper tantrum. Judging by how swiftly the storm had swept in to ruin the otherwise flawless blue sky, odds were on the latter.

“It’s not that hot,” Ruhn observed as they walked down the sidewalk toward the Aux training facility on the edge of the Old Square and Moonwood. The empty, cavernous chamber was usually used for large meetings, but he’d reserved it once a week at this hour for their standing training.

They’d have a newcomer today. At least, if Prince Cormac deigned to show up to begin her training, as he’d promised.

“I don’t know how you’re wearing a leather jacket,” Bryce said, her sweaty thighs sticking together with each step.

“Gotta hide the weapons,” Ruhn said, patting the holsters beneath the leather jacket. “Can’t have the tourists getting skittish.”

“You literally carry a sword.”

“That has a different impact on people than a gun.”

True. Randall had taught her that a long time ago. Swords could mean hope, resistance, strength. Guns meant death. They were to be respected, but only as weapons of killing, even in defense.

Bryce’s phone rang, and she checked the caller ID before shutting off the ringer and sliding it into her pocket.