Honeyed Words (37 page)

I glanced at the door, just in case. No one came in. I could see Qindra out in the lawn talking on her cell and assessing the house. This was going to take a full-court press, apparently.

The blood came off the walls and counter reluctantly. Seemed like I was always cleaning up blood these days. Julie spent the next fifteen minutes dumping all the alcohol that she could find—seventeen beers, two bottles of tequila, and a pint of absinthe. That stuff would kill you.

I sat down and drank my water, toying with the amulet. Where were they? I scooted my chair around so my back was against the wall. I didn’t want any surprises.

And so we waited for Qindra to finish or for Bub and Anezka to show back up. Was a helluva day so far.

Fifty-two

Qindra came back in. I gave her the story as I knew it, putting the amulet on the table. She looked, but did not touch it. I flipped it over for her to examine the back, then slipped it back into my pocket.

“Old,” she said. “I’ll want to study it at some point, but not right now.” She looked around the house, sensing, it appeared, trying to feel the way of things. “There is something old here, ancient, but the taint, the evil, that is here is newer, fresher.” She stopped turning and looked at me, her eyes steely and full of anger. “There’s been death here. Much death … and”—she paused, sniffed—“I taste pain in the air.”

I gave her the grand tour of the joint, pointing out the wood carvings in the carport. I didn’t take her to see the warriors and the dragon. Not yet. I wanted her to ask, to give a hint that she expected them to be there.

Once we’d made the circuit, she walked from room to room, casting runes and covering damn near every surface with little blue squiggles. They were readings, absorbing surrounding magic and glowing with intensity based on the amount present. The hallway grew brighter the closer we got to the back of the house. Like a freaking nuclear reactor in a cartoon.

“There’s some serious power here,” she said. “More than any place I’ve been to, honestly. I wonder…” She trailed off, lost in thought. After a minute, she pulled out her phone and texted someone. “I’m willing to wager this house was built on a nexus,” she said, smiling at me. “If that’s true, we’ll need some extra-strength haint remover.”

“Nexus?” Julie asked from the couch.

“Haint?” I asked at the exact same time.

“
Haint
is a haunt, ghost, spirit, revenant. Really bad,” Julie said, smiling.

“Oh.” That made sense.

Qindra explained about the rarity of a nexus and how the dragons tried to keep track of any that formed. “They are not permanent, except in a few rare cases. We have the obvious spots like Stonehenge, Easter Island, several points along the Black Sea, and a few others I’d better not mention.”

She talked about the known points of power and how they affected the areas around them. It was rather academic, actually, and I found myself losing interest—big blobs of untapped power. Excellent for almost no one.

I let Julie carry the conversation after a while. Waiting for Qindra’s cavalry to arrive got me to thinking. It was spooky, wondering who was coming. Maybe I should even the odds and call in some Black Briar folks? But no, they were getting ready for the big event tonight and didn’t need to be bothered. Besides, Nidhogg and her crew knew who I was. They didn’t know all of Jimmy’s folks. Keeping them anonymous was part of keeping them safe.

Still, I took Julie’s cell phone and called Katie. Just to let her know what had happened, and to let her know we had things under control.

Man, she was pissed, but that’s one of the things I love about her. Lot of passion in that woman. Protective and feisty. I’d been really looking forward to the party tonight. There was still a chance I’d make it, but I wasn’t holding my breath. The day was getting on.

Qindra looked at my hand when I got back in and did something with her wand that made it tingle and itch. “Shouldn’t need stitches,” she said. “I could’ve fixed you up better if we’d had whiskey.” She looked over at all the empties in the sink. “Not a whiskey kinda gal, I guess.”

Julie dug through the fridge and made sandwiches from the supplies I’d laid in, and we each ate like we hadn’t eaten in a week. Nothing like turkey and mayo to really hit the spot. The apples were the topper, though, sweet and crunchy. I loved how the flavor exploded in my mouth, clearing the final sour dregs from my earlier vomiting jag.

“Could I speak with you in private?” Qindra asked me after we’d eaten.

“Go on,” Julie said, grabbing plates. “I’ll clean this up.”

“My thanks,” Qindra said, bowing her head. “Sarah is lucky to have you for a mistress.”

Julie watched us walk out, and I shrugged at her, smiling. The door closed behind us, and Qindra breathed into her hands. It was still early in the day, but it was growing colder. We walked past the abstract art, across the yard, and over to her car. Felt safer. Being in the yard felt like we were being watched—like someone or something was listening.

“With all the excitement, I’m not sure how to approach this.” She looked down at her hands. Was she nervous? This must be the favor she wanted. “I know of your recent altercation in Vancouver.”

I raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t going to volunteer information.

“We have been contacted by someone.” She paused. “Someone … unsavory.”

“You?” I asked in mock surprise. “I thought you and the dragon types only hung out with the classiest sorts of people.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are lucky I like you,” she said. “There are those who fear to look at me, much less speak with such a familiar tone.”

True enough, and I was asking her for a favor. But this place just made me reckless, more mouthy than normal, if that was possible.

“Before we get into the mystery of this place,” she said, waving her hand across the street. “I need to ask you if you’ve encountered this so-called Dragon Liberation Front.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

She waved her hands. “Never mind who they are. They have contacted my mistress, offering an auction of a very interesting wine.”

“Mead,” I said without thinking.

She smiled and nodded slowly. “I had a feeling you knew something.” She leaned back against the side of her car and crossed her arms. “My mistress desperately wants this … mead, as you point out. She believes it is imperative that she does not lose out to any of the other bidders.”

“I’ll play along,” I said. “What other bidders?”

“That’s a good question,” she said, crossing her arms. “One would assume your dear friend Frederick Sawyer, but I have not confirmed that. We know there are four bidders. Considering Frederick as a likely candidate, and with Jean-Paul out of the picture, thanks to you—”

I bowed slightly, and she smiled.

“—that leaves two open slots. Are you aware of any further information in this matter?”

“Nope.” Not sure I’d tell her the truth in any case, but being truthful was a good way to start. “I’m sure your mistress has the means to insure she wins this auction.”

I don’t know if it was the word
insure
or not, but she laughed. “She is not omnipotent,” she said. “Her kind are powerful, granted, but they don’t know everything.”

“Thank god for small favors.”

A cloudy look swept over her face. “It disturbs me, this place.” She glanced from side to side, taking in the whole of the property. “This is in Nidhogg’s dominion, and we had no idea of its existence.”

“There’s a lot of territory to cover,” I said, being helpful.

“But I have never been to this place,” she said, glancing back at the house. “There is powerful magic here. Something does not want to be seen, does not want to be scrutinized.”

“So, you don’t know Anezka?”

“I’ve never met the woman. Why do you ask?”

How should I play this? Bub knew her, or
of
her for sure, but was Qindra privy to all of Nidhogg’s activities?

“Does your mistress fund much art?”

Now it was her turn to look confused. “Art? What do you mean?” She looked at the half a dozen sculptures in the yard and pointed. “Like those, you mean?”

I nodded. “Anezka was being funded by someone with power, someone who wanted her to make some things, commissioned the work in the back there. Sort of a diorama.”

“I can inquire, but I doubt it has anything to do with Nidhogg. She does favor good dwarf-made items, but I’ve never known her to commission any art. Can you show me?”

“Sure.” I motioned to the house, and we crossed back over. A thick layer of psychic filth settled over me once again as I crossed the road. How had I missed that? Maybe the house saw me as an enemy now, instead of an ally. Was it because of Anezka’s crack-up? Or maybe she lost it because of the bad juju here? Or, it dawned on me: maybe it was because Qindra had broken the barrier.

We crossed through the carport, into the shop, and out the back door. Qindra stopped short, whistled softly, and took out her wand. “Beautiful work,” she said. “The craftsmanship is stunning, but there is dark magic here.” She stepped to one of the warriors, his arm held high, his sword ready to smite the dragon. “I don’t understand how I missed the draw of this when I went through the house.”

“Is it related?”

She glanced around, then pulled several small packets from her coat pocket. She bent one in half, and it cracked open. She spilled salt into her hand. They were from a fast-food restaurant.

“Seriously?” I asked, pointing. “You get your best magic supplies from drive-thrus?”

She laughed. “Salt is salt. It matters not where it is acquired.” She paused. “Well, under most circumstances.” She winked at me, the tramp, and began to sprinkle a pinch on each of the fighting men. They seemed to swell, gain stature, as it were, before settling back into their normal stances.

“Very interesting,” she said. She looked at the salt in her palm, then to the huge dragon statue. “Definitely related,” she said, and brushed the remainder of the salt from her palms, scattering it in the grass. “There is a connection, an umbilical of the same sort you were linked with. Each of these statues is linked to the house. Not the ones out front,” she said quickly. “They are not the same. Here.” She turned, drawing the rune from earlier in the air. “You can see for yourself.”

There were strands from each of the warriors to the house—to the back room across from Anezka’s bedroom. Had either of us been in there? Had Skella?

“Should we go look where those lead?” I asked, feeling sick to my stomach again. The turkey sandwich was starting to turn. Qindra must have noticed me turning green, because she touched me with her wand, flooding me with calm. With several strokes of her wand, the black tendrils fell away from me, disconnecting me from the house. I felt light, airy.

“You’re like totally awesome for anxiety,” I said, smiling. “You could make a fortune helping people.”

She laughed at that. “My powers are not all that amazing,” she said, walking back into the carport. “Parlor tricks, mostly.”

“Uh-huh.” I’d seen her call down lightning and make a Black Hawk helicopter explode. She was one dangerous woman. But maybe I’d caught her off her game. She’d been in Leavenworth when I’d called her. This side of the mountains. Not like she always traveled ready for combat. Hell, I didn’t have my hammers or Gram. Not like I went around slaying dragons every day or anything. Maybe Qindra had a real life. Maybe she really just wanted to shop in Leavenworth today. But I didn’t like the coincidence.

She refused to go into the back rooms until her help arrived. Made sense to me. Instead, we spent the next hour discussing the dragon statue and the differences in dragon anatomy. The dragon statue did not resemble any she’d seen before: not Frederick, Nidhogg, Jean-Paul, or any of the other six or seven she’d seen.

“This one is unknown to me,” she said. “I’d like to know what my mistress would think of it.”

“Well, someone commissioned the lot,” I said, tapping one of the warriors with my tennies. “By the amount of money and magic involved, I can’t see how it could be anything but dragon involvement.”

She looked at me, assessing. “You are a child, Sarah Beauhall. There are many powers in the world, dragons and witches, true, but more unseemly things, and some more powerful than even Nidhogg.”

“Powerful enough to cause this?” I pointed at the house.

“This seems like magic gone wrong, a combination of several things intermingled to form something worse.”

I discussed the artists who’d lived here, the woman who carved, and the man whom they both loved.

“There has been death here,” Qindra said. “Not quick death, but lingering—bloody and painful. Someone relished the pain they caused here, forged a bond between the house and the agony.”

“Should we just burn the place down?”

She thought about it briefly, but shook her head. “No, I’m afraid we will need to spend time with stronger magic, digging around in the between places, looking for what has poisoned the ground.”

Which brought me back to my little scaly buddy. “What do you know of Bub? Could he be involved?” Man, I hoped not. I was liking him. He seemed as much a victim here as Anezka.