“It is convenient for us to have an inhuman that can make official courier deliveries,” he said quietly, passing me a single box. “This is for air shipment,” he instructed. “Include it in your drop-off.”
“You could try booking through the company rather than all of this cloak-and-dagger,” I told him. “I can’t say I’m overly enthused with putting my employers at risk.”
“Measures have been taken so there will be no risk, fiscal or otherwise, to your employers,” he replied calmly. “We will see to it that they are compensated for any minor loss due to your service to us. We have the ability to have them added to the preferred courier list for several significantly sized companies in the city. I calculate that the gains from that addition would far outweigh the few minutes of your time we require.”
“Fine,” I grunted. “But if anything happens to harm them, I will take it to the Court and have my lord file a complaint under the Covenants. Are we clear?”
“Perfectly, Mr. Kilkenny,” he accepted calmly with a slight bow of his head.
I took the package. Unless I was willing to take my concerns to Oberis—and right now, I didn’t want to remind him that I existed—there was nothing else I could do.
THE REST of the day passed smoothly, with the Enforcers’ package vanishing without a trace amidst the rest of the outbound shipment. Trysta was noticeably more businesslike with me than usual, without nearly as many of the bright smiles I’d grown used to receiving.
There was nothing I could do about that situation, however, so I accepted it with a sigh and continued on with my job. The workday ended with me walking home on my own through the freezing weather, thankful for the extra warmth of the Queen’s vest.
The weather fit my mood pretty thoroughly. On the one hand, the woman who I had been interested now likely believed me a liar who’d used her for information. Even if she didn’t, I was forbidden to deal with the Clan now.
On the other, one of my coworkers was apparently interested and somewhat upset that I didn’t return her interest, which might become uncomfortable in the future.
On yet a third hand, I’d followed the link through the airport as far as I could, and that trail had ended in a fiery mess when I accidentally burnt down Sigridsen’s house. While the shifters might get something from her computers, I would never know—I couldn’t contact them to find out.
As if to demonstrate how frustrating the situation was, it promptly started to snow. I quickened my pace as visibility began to decrease and the temperature slowly dropped around me. I was two blocks from home, and the snow got thicker fast.
After a few minutes, I couldn’t see more than five feet in front of me, and even fae vision couldn’t keep me from risking getting very lost. I kept putting one foot in front of another, leaning into the wind and pulling my hood down lower to try and protect my face.
A dark figure materialized out of the white like a ship breaking through a wave. A heavy coat covered them from neck to toe, and a thick scarf and a pair of ski goggles protected them above the neck. None of their skin was bared to the snow—or to the sun that had been shining a few minutes before.
You hunt too well, a voice sounded in my head. We do not need to be enemies, child.
“Who are you?” I tried to say, but the wind stole my voice. The figure shook its head, suggesting that they could hear me.
Silly, silly child, the voice said. I would not reveal so much just yet. I am...connected to those you hunt so virulently. You know so little about the situation and are so weak. Why risk yourself?
“Because they’re feeders,” I said with feeling. I figured that it didn’t really matter if I could even hear myself—which was good, because I couldn’t. The wind was brutal, and the snow was now falling sideways almost as much as down.
Such emotion, mmm, the figure purred inside my head. I’m told your kind are sweet to the taste; did you know that? Human enough to feed on, fae enough to be a heady drink.
I tried to summon faerie fire to defend myself, but the wind and snow snuffed it out. A pealing laugh resounded in my head, and the figure pointed.
There is your home, little changeling, the voice told me. You are not food tonight. But watch your step, for you walk in shadows without understanding who casts the light. Leave well enough alone, little changeling, and you will live.
The shadowed figure stepped back into the snow and was gone. After a moment, I followed where it had pointed. Within ten steps, I found myself on the front porch of my apartment complex and leaned against the wall.
Someone had just gone out of their way to warn me off as impressively as they could. I may not think I was getting anywhere, but that someone obviously did!
AT NO POINT in the night did the snow slow, and by morning, the city was buried under more than a yard of snow. I woke up to Bill calling me to let me know he’d shut Direct down for the day—even if we managed to make it into dispatch, he wouldn’t feel comfortable letting us take the trucks out on the streets.
I went out to check the front door of the apartment complex, not quite believing Bill’s description of the city as buried. Apparently, the snow had drifted with the wind, because the front door of the complex was glass, with full-length windows on either side, and it was completely covered in snow.
After weeks of being at work disgustingly early, I was very awake at six in the morning. A quick search revealed a snow shovel in a closet off the main hallway, so I grabbed my winter coat and got to work.
An hour later, I’d managed to clear the building’s front patio and a pathway down to the road, which had not been plowed. My “pathway” resembled a canyon, but I’d packed in the sides so it would stay up. Hopefully, the still-blowing snow wouldn’t fill it in too badly before the plows came to dig us out.
Assuming the plows came to dig us out. After a week worrying about the orders of the Queen, vampires and conspiracies, the prosaic worry of merely being completely snowed in was somewhat of a relief.
I took a quick stock of my groceries and started making breakfast. Given the state of the streets, I was more than a little surprised when my door buzzer rang. It took me a minute to put aside pans and spatulas and get to it, and by then it had buzzed again.
“Yes?”
“It’s Eric,” the intercom told me. “Can you let me in? It’s bloody freezing out here.”
Bemused, I hit the button to allow the old gnome entrance and, a minute or so later, opened my door to a knock. The gnome stood in my hallway, dripping wet, a pair of snowshoes as tall as he was leaning against his shoulder. For a moment, all I could do was stare at the incongruous sight before I finally managed to stand aside and let him enter my apartment.
“I can’t say I was expecting company,” I told him as I gestured to my couch. I grabbed my computer chair—the only other place to sit in the apartment—and turned it to face him.
“Good,” he said gruffly. “If you weren’t expecting me, and with the weather outside, we can assume no one else figures I’m here or will ever know.” He pulled a small gold pyramid inscribed with runes in the goldish silver I was learning to recognize as orichalcum, and placed it beside him on the couch, studying the runes for a moment.
“What is that?” I asked.
“This is one of my most carefully guarded secrets,” he told me. “There are very few ways to block the Sight of a Wizard without him knowing that it has been blocked, and this is one of them.”