Honeyed Words (8 page)

Past the train station, we watched a cruise ship launch. It must have been a common occurrence, because there was no one on the dock, so Katie and I waved at them as they left, hooting and hollering along with the cruise folk. Seemed to make them happy, and I know it helped my spirits.

We watched the ship until we lost sight of it, then we stopped at a nearby deli, ordered an instant picnic, and hiked over to Stanley Park.

I wanted to walk over to Second Beach before we ate, but Katie insisted we stop and pay our respects to Robert Burns. His statue was at the entrance, so we didn’t have to go out of our way. We spent ten minutes admiring the wide array of bird droppings and little notes people leave at these sorts of places, and then we made our way through the wooded area toward the water.

Second Beach is stunning. We found a fallen tree and spread out our foodage. I was starved and dove into my sandwich without much thought to conversation. Katie ate more sparingly, picking her food apart and watching the water. Once I’d knocked off most of a pastrami on rye I leaned back against the tree and pulled out my knitting. Knit one, pearl three. It was a pain.

After I finished two rows, Katie sighed.

“What’s on your mind, hon?”

She looked over at me and smiled. “This is just nice, you and me, alone.”

There were a dozen people on the beach below us, but I took her meaning. “Yeah, parts of this weekend have been great.”

We sat enjoying being in each other’s space.

“I wish you’d just move in with me,” she said finally. “It would be easier.”

I dropped my knitting into my lap and turned my head to look at her. She was so earnest.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” I told her. “You know that. I just can’t leave Julie right now. She’s got nothing at the moment. I can’t abandon her after all she’s been through.”

She kept smiling, but I thought it was a little more brittle than before. “She’s a grown woman, Sarah. She doesn’t need a nursemaid.”

I shrugged. The guilt was enormous. I’d brought the dragon down on her. It was my fault the sword was reforged. If I hadn’t acted, she’d still have her home and her forge. I had to make amends. Had to see her safe.

I shrugged again. “What else am I supposed to do, Katie? I owe her.”

She reached over and touched my cheek. “Guilt is a terrible weight to bear.”

“It’s only until she can get back on her feet,” I promised. “We can talk about it in a few months, okay?”

“Sure,” she conceded. “Just makes it hard to have any quality alone time at your place with Aunt Bea always hanging around.”

That made me smile. “I’ll see if I can arrange for her to seek more outside interests.”

Katie finished her sandwich then. I loved her, but she was persistent when she wanted something. I guessed I should have been happy since she was the one who pursued me. I’d never have had the nerve to hit on her.

“I wonder who would want to snatch Ari like that?” she asked after we packed away the lunch leavings.

“Good question,” I said. “Could be ransom, I guess, or unrequited love, that sort of thing.”

“Dwarves snatched him,” a voice said from behind us.

I dropped my knitting and spun around, placing my weight on my right knee, planting my left foot firmly on the ground under me.

There was a girl standing behind me, and she looked familiar. I’d seen her at the party, in the line waiting with the rest of those who were just not cool enough.

She had thin features, almost pinched, with a long, narrow face and ears that were not exactly pointed, but definitely elongated. She was dressed in dark clothes, and her eyes were lined with black. Her lips were fiery red, and her fingernails matched.

Katie was on her feet, watching the woods behind the girl.

“Who’s with you?” she asked firmly.

“It’s just me and Gletts,” the girl said. “I’m Skella.” She kept her hands crossed over her skinny chest. “You’re that blacksmith, aren’t you?”

I stood, confused. “I’m
a
blacksmith, yes. But how would you know that?”

She smiled, turning her face from gaunt goth chick into that of a fairly pretty young woman. “You killed the dragon, that bastard Duchamp.”

“Whoa,” Katie said, stepping away from the edge of the woods and looking around. “Who are you again?”

Gletts stepped out of the brush. He was a male version of Skella, a skinny kid in clothes too big for him. “We shouldn’t be talking to her,” he said to Skella. “She ain’t our friend.”

“Shush, you,” Skella said, pushing him away. He stutter-stepped to the side, but didn’t go very far. “I know all about you,” she said, facing us squarely. “We got word pretty quick up here. Not everyday one of the wyrms gets taken down.”

“Ha,” Gletts laughed. “Not everyday for true. Not never in my reckoning.”

“We just wanted to say thank you,” Skella said. “We heard you were roaming these parts. Glad you decided to visit us here in the park.”

“You live here?” I asked.

“A few of us, yes,” she answered. “Most of our kin were driven off by the dragon years ago, but us and ours have hung on here. Kept to ourselves, you know?”

I understood perfectly well. “What have you heard about a dwarf boy that got killed out near…”

“Dragon friend,” Gletts interrupted me. Then he spat.

Katie spat, too, making a warding sign. Gletts smiled at that, kindred spirits.

“He was delivering a message from the dragon in Portland,” Skella said. “Courier only, but the King of Vancouver saw fit to make an example of him.”

“Lousy way to die,” Gletts said, the anger raw in his voice. “You’d think with you killing one of them, they’d think twice before they tried to push anyone else around.”

“Meaning?” Okay, I thought I grokked his meaning, but wanted to be sure.

“Sawyer, trying to weasel his way into the Vancouver area,” Skella said.

Gletts laughed. “Old Nidhogg between us and him, he’s out of his pickled brain.”

I almost laughed. This skinny kid, full of piss and vinegar, talking about one of the dragons like he was some cranky neighbor. Kid had balls. No coward, this one. “I’ve met him,” I said.

They both turned to me, eyes level, expressions flat.

“He ain’t Duchamp, that’s for damn sure,” Gletts said. “But he’s a dragon, just like the rest of ’em. Right awful bastards, the lot.”

Skella nodded, but was looking from me to Katie, as if she was trying to decide something.

They looked like nice enough kids—well, Elvish kids at least. Hell, they could be twice my age for all I knew. Not sure they got enough food, though. Worn looking, and a little on the thin side. I wondered if maybe they were homeless. Lot of that going around.

“You hungry?” I asked, remembering the potato salad and second sandwiches in the pack. “You look like you’ve missed a few meals.”

“We could eat,” Gletts said, his eyes eager. “Never turn away hospitality.”

“This is our place,” Skella said. Her voice and body language was all about caution. “We should be offering them something.”

Katie smiled and picked up the pack to hand out food.

“It does appear,” I said, “that you have offered us leave of your home, and some interesting information.”

Skella eyed the sandwich Katie brought out of the pack. “That’s true. Maybe we could share a meal with you.”

And so we did. They ate every last crumb we had with us, and would’ve eaten more.

They gave us a lot of information, like how this mystery guy calling himself the King of Vancouver had been consolidating all of Jean-Paul’s holdings. “It’s like he knows where all the bodies are buried,” Gletts said after he’d licked his fingers clean. “Making peace with the gangs and all. City is getting quiet again after weeks of street fighting.”

Skella let Gletts talk, as he seemed to relish the intrigue and violence. When he’d finally run down, she looked over at me and took her turn.

“Dwarves took your singer friend. We heard about it.”

“Why’d they snatch him?” Katie asked.

Skella shrugged. “Not sure. I just know there are lots of new folks, fey and not, that have been flocking here. The King is claiming Vancouver as a free port. No dragons or their ilk allowed. If he thinks you may be working for one of them, he has you rubbed out.”

“So, these dwarves,” I continued. “They’re new to town then?”

“No, been here longer than we have, or so Gran says.”

I thought a few minutes. Rolph probably had information on them, being a dwarf himself. Hell, they could be family for all I knew. Not sure I totally trusted him, not after last year when he tried to take Gram away from me. To be fair though, I was trying to give it to the dragon Duchamp at the time. In my defense, I was exchanging it for Katie and Julie. It was a big mess, but it worked okay in the end. I killed the dragon, saved the girl, and liberated this fair city. Not bad, if I do say so myself. And I couldn’t really blame Rolph. He served the sword before all else. He’d be outraged to know I’d let Jimmy keep Gram hidden at Black Briar. I wasn’t even sure myself why I hadn’t gone and taken her from him. Well, beyond cowardice, I guess.

I’d give Rolph a call and see what he knew.

Nine

Jimmy stood in the bank vault, hidden behind the curtain with his father’s safety-deposit box. Inside were a few important papers and three small clay figurines: Odin, Thor, and a Valkyrie. Each stood on a round pedestal about two inches across. There were initials carved on the bottom of each.

He picked up the Valkyrie and studied the way the carvings wound around the base in an unbroken chain, including the stylized figure of a dragon biting its own tail.

He pulled a bandana out of his pocket, wrapped the Valkyrie in it, and set it on the floor. With a quick motion, he stomped his boot down, shattering the statue with a dull thunk.

“Everything okay in there?” the guard asked from the other side of the curtain.

“Fine,” Jimmy said, bending down to pick up the bandana. He unwrapped the shattered clay statue and pulled the pieces apart. Inside the base was a ring with a green gemstone. A sigil was carved in the stone, sort of a fanciful
S
or
F.
Inside the body of the Valkyrie was a thinly scrolled sheet of paper. He unrolled it. It was in code, but one he had a passing familiarity with. Here was his contact. Jimmy placed the ring inside the watch pocket in his jeans and tucked the paper in his shirt pocket. He placed the bandana-wrapped pottery shards inside the safety-deposit box.

Before he closed the lid, he slid his fingers over a small journal inside. His mother had been working on it when his parents disappeared. He didn’t have enough knowledge to decipher the markings, and the one time he’d tried, he’d nearly killed himself. His mother knew magic and wards. There was something in the way the journal was protected that had caused him to collapse into seizures. If Deidre hadn’t been home, he may have died. He’d hidden the journal here, but one day, he’d have to decipher its secrets. Somewhere in there were the answers to his family’s origins; he knew it.

With a sigh, he shut the safety-deposit box and stepped out from behind the curtain.

The guard replaced the box and Jimmy took the key.

Now to decipher the note from his father and see if he could contact this secret member of his father’s cabal.

Ten

Skella and Gletts showed us around Stanley Park. Skella was eager to show us the
Girl in a Wetsuit
statue out on the shore, said it was based on one of the Vanir—the oldest race of gods, older than Odin and his crew— the Æsir. This beautiful maiden swam these waters as either a young maiden or a powerful salmon. Legend had it she was murdered by one of the Æsir—likely Loki, the trickster. Rumor was she had a great trove of treasure hidden somewhere in one of the many coves along the coast and Loki coveted her gold.

Katie said it was likely he coveted her treasure all right, but doubted it was anything more than the cove between her legs.

Gletts laughed at this, losing the last of his aloofness. Skella found the thought disturbing and ushered us farther around the park.

We spent the entire afternoon with the two goth kids—elves, I had to remember— and ended up having a grand time. Turned out Gletts had a wicked sense of humor, and Skella’s sweet laugh seemed to make him swell with pride.

At one point, as Skella and I discussed the history of the area, Gletts wove two flowered necklaces for us. I laughed, of course.

“Sorry, dude. Really not me,” but I put it in my pack all the same. Skella looked upset, and Gletts hurt, but Katie made a big deal about putting it on, and that seemed to make them somewhat happier.

Near sundown, we ended back at the park entrance. A mother and her two children sat on a bench along the far side of the square. The younger child was eating ice cream, but the older boy, about eleven, was facing away from his family, fervently working a Rubik’s Cube. Gletts leaned against the great statue of Robert Burns watching them while Skella hugged us both.