Page 66 of Lux

If I had to guess, the answer would be yes. He has. Yet, he doesn’t seem inclined to say.

“You should go back to the other home, darling,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “The jackdaws will protect you from harm. They are useful in that aspect at least. Caspian, you will attend the autopsy with me. I suspect we will need the assistance?—”

“No,” I growl. Then I reach for Niamh and snatch her hand whether she wants me to or not. Let her walk alone? Leave her fate to demented, magic birds etched into her skin?

Hell no.

“Hell no,” I tell him directly. “She comes with me, or I don’t go at all.”

“You do have a contract to pay off,” Altaris remarks, but there is no real authority in his voice. The mentioning of some fae has bothered him. To the point he can no longer hide it. His eyes are distracted, his attention fixated on something far away. In the past, perhaps. “Fine. She may come in if you watch out for her. I’d rather you break the bones of a darling one than have them torn to pieces by jackdaws, but I warn you. If my darlings get upset, you will make her leave. It is for her own protection.”

I nod. For her protection, I’ll rip his house of broken, insane vamryre apart.

Except for…

Cassiopeia. She is here, lingering somewhere above, still wallowing in pain and lost memories.

“Well now, let’s be on our way. Goodness gracious, I just hope Ginni hasn’t taken a bite out of that mortal. The last thing I need is to give the boneys another reason to flaunt their high and mighty noses around these parts. Times will be hard enough with not one buttwoinvestigations taking place on our literal doorstep. Come.”

Rather than head in through the main black doors, he leads us to the side of the building instead. There is a metal railing surrounding a staircase that goes down, down to a metal door. It is rigid. No sound from within slips out. After Altaris knocks, a series of sliding, slamming mechanisms indicate various bolts and chains have been unlocked.

When it finally opens, the Pol-spawn stands behind it. He wears a black mask around his nose and heavy rubber gloves that extend up to his arms. A curt nod beckons us inside.

“Ginni, darling?” Altaris calls out.

“No! No! You are not meant to visit during business hours! THAT IS A RULE!”

The insane one's voice echoes through the large chamber, but she is hunched over a massive metal slab in the middle. The mortal beside her doesn't seem to react much to the shrieking. She watches in fascination as the insane one peels a bloodied torso open with a sharpened blade. “You promised me,” Ginni mutters without looking up from her “work.” “No bothering me during business?—”

“Iamhere on business, dear one. I would like to observe and watch. I want to see if a hunch I have will be proven or not.”

“Oh.” Ginni shrugs, suddenly calm. Then she jabs her knife toward the mortal. “See the serrated edges,” she says, her voice as giddy as a child’s. “It is nice for slice-slicing when neatness is not required. Such a mess. A mess.” She continues to cut into the torso.

Beside her, the mortal nods. “Ah, a unique technique. One would think not to use a serrated edge for excavation, but when time is of the essence I could see how practicality would take precedence over skill.”

“Yes, yes!” Ginni nods excitedly. “But when skill is called for, I have nice, sharp scalpel blades. Altaris got them for me special.”

“Oh I would love to see them,” the mortal coos. It's strange, but she sounds genuinely interested, the way Niamh does when she speaks of her books.

Even mortals can be afflicted with addled minds.

My fae, however, seems uninterested in blood and knives. In the greenish light, she appears pale. Like she might faint. Suddenly, she begins to sway.

Pulling her against me, I hold her tightly.

“It is the smell, I suppose,” Altaris remarks from across the room, well beyond the reach of Ginni’s jabbing blade. “I forget that mortals can sometimes be squeamish when it comes to these things.”

Squeamish. From over the insane vamryre's shoulder, the human is practically cackling with glee. They speak continuously as they cut and slice. It seems they are having fun.

“Take her home,” Altaris tells me. “I suppose she’s had a long day indeed. I shall visit you tomorrow with the results. Now go?—”

“Yes, go now,” Ginni snaps. “ENOUGH NOISES!”

I do not need to be told twice. Lifting my fae into my arms, I head for the door.

“It will be faster,” I tell her out loud.

Faster.

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