24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

‘We have a dungeon?' I asked Greg when Kearns had been hauled out.

‘More like a couple of small cells,' Greg admitted. ‘But that doesn't have the same intimidation factor as calling them a dungeon.'

‘It used to be a proper dungeon,' Bastion volunteered. ‘Back in the day, that's where Reynard held the witches he found who'd cursed the wolves. Things are a little more civilised now – at least on the surface.'

‘But beneath the surface?' I asked.

‘Oh, it's as hellish as ever,' Bastion promised darkly. ‘Worse, in some places. Human rights are slipping further than ever, particularly for women. I take a certain pleasure in accepting contracts on the worst misogynists because, as a father, I feel like it's my duty. But for every bastard I kill, there's another waiting to take his place, to spout hatred and darkness.'

‘Fantastic,' I said faintly. ‘It's a wonder you get anything done when you're shovelling around all that optimism,' I added drily.

‘I prefer to consider myself a realist.' Bastion stood up, swayed slightly and reached out a hand to steady himself. That made me grimace.

‘Bastion, if you're a realist you have to be honest about your condition,' I admonished. ‘The black witch's curse is killing you.'

‘Every day we're all a step closer to death.'

‘Jeez.' I pinched the bridge of my nose. ‘Please stop spouting all this flowery positivity.'

He's right, we'll all die eventually, Esme said. And if we don't restore the artefact, I'll be going to the afterlife rather than to the Great Pack just like the other wolves that have died since it was stolen.

Her comments hit me hard. She was right. I was fucking about with Kearns and the Domini when my focus should be on the damned orb. With our rightful air power restored, the werewolves would stand much more of a chance against the shadowy cadre.

Bastion stood. ‘Let's go question our guest.' Greg nodded.

‘Wait,' I intervened. ‘We all know that information obtained under torture is sketchy. I could … I could pipe him. Fo rce him to tell us the truth.' I tried to avoid doing that because it was a horrific, slippery slope; once I had forced someone to do my bidding, where would I stop? Where would I draw the line? I'd done it once before to force a guard to let us into the room where Ares had been locked away at the Black Tourney and it had been easy. Far too easy.

Greg studied me. ‘Let us rough him up a little first.' He knew how I felt about my piping.

‘No torture,' I said finally.

‘Just a bit of white noise,' he offered.

‘Some light deprivation,' Bastion added. ‘We're military, both of us. We'll crack him without using your powers. We can't risk you using them willy-nilly or sooner or later the Connection will find out and come knocking at your door.'

And that was the other reason piping wasn't my go-to solution. I had nightmares about the Connection arresting me and taking me to a black site where they poked and prodded me and worked out what made me tick. I could tell them that already: it was spreadsheets.

I licked my lips. ‘You have a couple of days to get answers from him. After that, I'm up.' The men gave me grim nods and walked out. Yep, I definitely still felt like the bad guy.

I picked up my phone and dialled Harden. ‘My Queen,' the Staffordshire pack beta answered.

‘Harden. Has Elliott found his way home?'

There was a pause. ‘He has.'

‘Is he still steaming?'

‘Yes,' Harden admitted. ‘But he'll get over it. He's one of those quick-to-anger, quick-to-forgive types.'

‘We'll see. I have formally announced that Greg Manners and I are to be mated. Let it be known.'

‘It is the speaker's role to disseminate information amongst the wolf packs, my Queen,' he said tactfully.

‘It is,' I agreed. ‘You've been promoted.'

‘What did Kearns do?' he asked, surprised.

‘He plotted to kill me,' I said drily, which was true. He'd planted the seed for Abberdon's challenge.

‘Ah, that'll do it. Is he dead?'

‘He's in my dungeons.'

‘He should be dead,' Harden said firmly. ‘If he's alive, and imprisoned, there's always a risk that the Connection will step in and interfere.'

‘This is pack business so they won't wade in. He has information that I need.'

‘Still, I'd be happier if he were dead.'

‘I'm sure Manners agrees with you on that score, but for now Kearns breathes. And you're promoted. Don't fuck up.'

I hung up. I was so good at motivational speaking I should probably give classes. I could get one of those cute cat posters that showed a kitten up a tree with a slogan: Keep hanging in there!

No cat posters, Esme growled. What is it with you and cats? Are you trying to offend me?

I snickered. Sorry. A dog poster then, with it swimming in a river with a slogan saying Embrace the journey .

Much better. Anyway who needs to hang in there ? Where are they talking about?

Still laughing, I looked around my office and envisaged pranking Esme with wall-to-wall cat posters. God help me if she discovered the existence of funny cat videos on the internet. I focused on my computer and toyed with Googling some of them but in the end I decided I wanted to live. I pulled up some spreadsheets instead, but for once they didn't appeal to me. I must be ill.

Restlessly, I went to my private sitting room and through the bookcase to the hidden room beyond. I pulled out the Samuel family journal and started reading, looking for any mention of the orb. It was open at the last entry I'd read – and I immediately wanted to do a face palm .

Things worsen still. Without the artefact, the seat of power has gone quite mad. Any who stray into her domain are never seen again. The Staffordshire pack have been tasked with keeping her alive, but no longer can we entrust her with our dead. Who knows what she would do with them?

Okay, so we knew the artefact was stolen by the 11 th of August 1846, which was when that particular entry was made. I just needed to work back from there. Last time I'd looked through the journal I'd been searching for references to the seat of power; now I needed to scan it for references to the orb or the artefact.

I browsed through the pages, trying not to think about Kearns and the Domini, but even though I leafed through the whole thing I came up with nothing. Dammit.

Call Elvira, Esme suggested. She might know more about a theft. She's the police.

I snorted. The theft was hundreds of years ago so it will definitely be a cold case. And the Connection was only formed eighty years ago, so they won't have records about the artefact.

She might know someone who can point you in the right direction.

I didn't share Esme's optimism but there was definitely something Elvira could help me with. Surely the Connection had a file on the Domini ?

I took out my phone and dialled her number. The last time I'd seen her, she'd been storming out of Jess's hen do after finding out that Jess had identified who was responsible for some crimes that she hadn't told Elvira about. Before that, we'd been having a total blast. Hopefully Elvira wouldn't hold a grudge against me for Jess's actions; Jess and I might be besties, but that didn't mean I had any influence over her behaviour.

The phone rang and rang. I was just about to give up when she answered. ‘Hi, Lucy,' her voice was cautious.

‘Hey. I wondered if I could pick your brains about a few things?'

‘Sure. Shoot.'

‘What do you know about the werewolves having air powers?' I asked.

‘Well, we all know you used to have them and now you don't,' she said levelly.

‘And?

‘And that's it.'

‘No mention of an artefact being lost or stolen?'

‘No, nothing like that.'

‘Bugger,' I cursed. ‘I'm trying to pinpoint when a particular orb was stolen, but I really haven't much to go on.'

‘Is it important? '

‘I think finding it will restore the werewolves' lost air powers, so yep, it's pretty important.'

There was a pause. ‘Okay. Well, if it's that important… Off the record, I'd go and see the Librarian. It will probably be worth it, regardless of the price.'

‘Why do I get the feeling that the Librarian doesn't work in a normal library?'

‘Because he doesn't. He works at the Bodleian Library in Oxford in a specialist Other wing.'

I wanted to do a head thunk. Amber had told me to go and visit the Great Library in Oxford. I wasn't fool enough to ignore the advice a second time. ‘Okay. You mentioned a price?'

‘Rumour has it he asks for a favour in the future. Word any promises you make very carefully,' she warned me.

‘Wonderful,' I said drily. ‘So I just need to drive to Oxford and then what? How will I find him?'

‘If he thinks your question is interesting enough, he'll find you.'

‘And if he doesn't?'

‘Then you get to enjoy a tour of a library that holds some of the oldest and rarest manuscripts in the world. The place is four hundred years old and houses more than twelve million books.'

My jaw dropped. ‘Wow. You know a lot about it.'

‘The Librarian didn't find my question interesting,' she said laconically. ‘So I took the Common tour. It's a magical place, even if you're not in the Other section.'

‘Cool. That's been really helpful. I have another thing to ask you.'

‘Yeah?'

‘What do you know about the Domini?'

‘Enough not to talk about them on the phone!' she hissed and hung up.

Huh. Ok-ay, then. I'd have to find a space to fit in some face-to-face time with Elvira, but first I had a library to go to…