Ghost Light

“Melusine will pay one of these days, but you are right,” he said.  “First we must find this Sir Torn and learn what he knows of your father.  The wisp king was reputed to be a solitary man, a lone traveler often seen wandering the moors and fen land before his disappearance.  With no known friends or allies to contact, my own inquiries have turned up dry.  The cat sidhe must be found.  We must find a way into this Club Nexus.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding.

“We?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said.  “I will help, if you will have me.”

Need stirred low in my belly, but I tamped it down.  Thoughts of taking Ceff home to my bed rose unbidden.  I bit the inside of my cheek to clear my head.  I was just feeling grateful that Ceff wasn’t going to report my crime to either fae court.  By turning a blind eye, he had saved me from possible execution.  And now he was offering to help me on my quest to find my father, starting with questioning Sir Torn.  I felt grateful, that was all.

I looked down to see my traitorous hands start to reach for Ceff, and shoved them back into my pockets.  I was tired and emotional, a natural reaction to the day’s adrenaline rollercoaster.  I needed a shower and my bed, alone.

My stomach growled and I mentally added food to my list.  Ceff laughed, dispelling the serious mood that had settled on our conversation.  I grunted and turned away from the harbor.

“Are you coming with me then?” I asked.  “Or should we meet here in the morning?  I need a few hours sleep.  If you’re coming along, you’ll have to sleep on the couch.”

“I like the couch,” he said, eyes glowing green.

Mab’s bones.  Ceff’s eyes had glowed like that, with passion, once before.  It was during the Winter Solstice and we had been sitting on that very couch.  In fact, that one piece of furniture had become a repository for the memories of that night.  Sometimes, when no one was around, I’d sit there, remove my glove, and place it against the upholstery.  My own private movie of that night imprinted there.

I swallowed hard and waved for Ceff to follow.

Chapter 8

The smell of the harbor was left behind, replaced by the unpleasant combination of stale beer, grilled meat, and urine.  We were firmly in the Old Port quarter when my phone rang.  According to the ringtone, it was Jinx.  But she was calling from our office phone, not her cell.

What was Jinx doing at the office this early in the morning?  Even if she hadn’t been nursing a hangover, Jinx being at the office at this hour was odd.  We occasionally stay late for clients with a sun allergy, but Jinx never opened early.  She wasn’t a morning person.  For that matter, neither was I.

I stifled a yawn, frowned, and took the call.

“Hey,” I said.  “I’m almost home.  Ceff’s with me, and we’re on our way to the loft.  What are you doing at the office?”

“We’ve got a problem,” Jinx said.  “Hold on.”

Something brushed across the phone, probably my roommate’s hand.  I could hear her dry heave in the background and paper rustling.  Did she just puke into one of our wastebaskets?  Maybe I shouldn’t have left her home alone.

“Sounds like you’re the one with a problem,” I said lightly, when she came back on.  “How’s the hangover?”

“Har, har,” she said.  “I’ll never drink with a clurichaun again, that’s for sure.  But that’s not why I’m calling.  The office phone’s been ringing off the hook.  We have emergency cases, plural.  I’m calling these clients back as fast as I can, and I have more calls to make, but the freaky thing is...I think the cases are all connected.”

“I’m on my way,” I said.  I hung up and turned to Ceff.  “Change of plan.  I have to go in to the office.”

“When was the last time you slept or ate?” he asked.

I stuck my tongue in my cheek, thinking back over the past two days.

“I caught a nap the day before yesterday, and I think I ate some toast yesterday morning,” I said.  I shrugged.  “Duty calls.”

Ceff understood all about duty.  He didn’t argue, though he did look at me appraisingly, scrutinizing me from head to foot.

“I will find a place to purchase human nourishment,” he said.  Ceff must not have liked what he saw, because he was slipping into more formal speech—a habit I’d noticed when he was stressed.  “I shall return to your place of business when I am done.”

“And coffee?” I asked, crossing my fingers.

He nodded and strode up the street toward an all-night pizza joint.  Tomatoes and grease were good for a hangover, so it was a good choice.  Jinx might be able to keep some down.

I spun on my heel and dragged myself to the offices of Private Eye, our up-and-coming detective agency.  Business had been good lately, but that didn’t prepare me for the crowd gathered around our door.