Chapter 9

Remy spoke to Drex. "What was that about?"

Drex ran a large, calloused hand through his hair. "Someone keeps dumping alchemical waste in the harbor. It's making the water toxic and killing off sea life."

"Who are Keillan's ‘people'?" I asked.

"Selkies. As you can imagine, they feel strongly about water pollution." Drex screwed up his face. "They could block the harbor and cut off sea trade to Sageport."

"I don't think the Council would take that well," Remy pointed out.

"No. But the selkies are angry enough to not care about the consequences. Sageport and the fae haven't treated them well over the years as it is."

"I didn't know there were selkies in the harbor." I said.

"Aye, they're up and down the coastline." Drex tapped a blunt finger on the table. "To hear them tell it, they were here when Sageport was just a fishing village with a few huts."

"How often is the waste being dumped?" Remy asked.

"Every two weeks or so," Drex said. "I've compared the events with the ships docked at the time, but there is no pattern."

"So, it's likely coming from someone on shore, not one of the ships," I said.

"Exactly." Drex briefly closed his eyes. "Whoever it is has been quite good at avoiding anyone we post to watch the docks."

"Do you want me to see if I can find out who?" Remy asked.

My head snapped toward him in surprise. We had an important job to do for the guild. Was he really going to take on another job right now?

"I would love it, but the Council barely approved the funds for extra watchman rounds." Drex rubbed his eyes and sighed.

Remy waved a hand in the air dismissively, and I noticed the knife had disappeared again. "No charge. I'd just like some information in return."

"Deal. What do you want to know?"

"Anything you can tell me about the Crimson Wave. Who owns her, what kind of cargo she carries, ports of call… that sort of thing."

"She's a medium-tonnage brigantine. Runs with a skeleton crew, I think." Drex paused and scratched at his beard. "She's owned by Thorn Wylder." He shook his head. "That's all I know off the top of my head. I'll have to check manifests for more."

"Where are Thorn Wylder's offices?"

"Over on Third Street. Just past Nautical Needs, the chandler's shop."

"Thanks. That's a start. I'll swing by your office when I've got something on your dumper."

Remy pushed to his feet, and I rose too. I glanced to where Keillan had been sitting, but the table was empty. My job had been to watch the room for threats—which definitely included Keillan—but I hadn't seen him leave. I'd been so absorbed by the conversation that I'd forgotten about everything else. Wincing, I tugged at my collar and scanned the room. No Keillan. I only hoped Remy hadn't noticed my lapse.

It was full dark when we left the Salty Anchor, but people still strolled along the piers. A few lights twinkled on the berthed ships and pools of warm light spilled from the widely spaced gas lamps. But deep shadow shrouded the rest of the wharf, and it would be easy to slip through unseen. Unless they were beating drums as they dragged barrels of the stuff down to the waterfront, I couldn't imagine how they would be discovered.

"Why didn't you just pay Drex for his information?" I asked.

"Drex is a tough old bird with a rigid set of morals. Money would feel dirty to him."

I blew out a long breath and shook my head. "We don't have time to worry about his troubles. We have our own."

Remy halted under a lamp and turned to face me. His sable-tipped hair swirled around his face as the light caught his high cheekbones and threw his stubbled jaw into shadow. My gaze momentarily dropped to his well-formed lips, but they were pressed into a hard line. He crossed his arms and regarded me with his intense blue eyes.

"First, there is no we."

I jammed my hands on my hips and leaned forward. "We're supposed to be working together on this."

"We're stuck working together to find the Eye. Nothing else."

Earlier in the evening, I had actually been thinking maybe he wasn't a complete ass. He'd just proved me wrong.

"Second, we're not joined at the hip. You're going to surveil Thorn Wylder while I talk to another contact."

I glared at him mutinously.

"What? You told me that's what you were good at." He lifted a brow and then continued, "Third, if you want people to give you information, you'd better learn what motivates them. Many would sell their grannies for the right price, but others have different needs."

I digested his third point for a moment and decided it made sense. My frustration with Remy as a person wouldn't stop me from learning what I could from him. People respected him and shared information. To my dismay, I couldn't say the same for myself. But that didn't mean I was content to be left behind while he spoke with someone else.

"Got it. Money wouldn't work on Drex. But I want to go with you to talk to this other contact."

"No. He holds court in the Silent Quill, a bar that makes the Salty Anchor look like a rich ladies' hair salon."

"I'm not afraid. And I can watch your back," I protested.

"Uh-huh." He gave me a hard look. "And what can you tell me about Keillan's departure from the Anchor?"

So much for hoping he hadn't noticed my inattention. Of course he had. I let out a frustrated breath.

Remy dropped his arms to his sides and his expression softened. "Look, you'd be a target the minute you walked in the door. There won't be another woman in the place. Even the working girls are smart enough to steer clear."

I frowned down at my shoes. "Hardly seems fair."

He barked a laugh. "Since when did you think life was fair?"

"It certainly hasn't been so far," I conceded.

We started walking again and after a few minutes, Remy said, "If it makes you feel better, he won't talk if I'm not alone."

"Who is he?"

Remy was quiet for so long, I was sure he wasn't going to answer. I guessed it made sense. We didn't trust each other, so why would he tell me about his network?

"He used to be a guild member," Remy said after a long pause. "Until he got thrown out."

"For what?"

"He started taking outside jobs that paid better."

"But most members take outside jobs," I said, puzzled. Clearly, I was missing something.

"Not like these." He grimaced and looked away. "He became an assassin, specializing in poison."

I gasped and came to a complete stop, tugging on his sleeve. "And why would he talk to you?"

Remy raked a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. "Because he was my master in the guild."