Page 51 of Shield of Fire

“I’ll be fine. I’ll find somewhere to have a cup of tea and wait.”

He nodded toward the building directly opposite. “Bubble tea?”

“Gods no,” I said with a shudder.

He hesitated and then nodded. “Be careful.”

I nodded, put the token back into my purse then, after waiting for a car to pass, headed across the road. The gap between the bin and the wall was tighter than I’d thought, and grime smeared across my jacket where my breasts squashed across its metal surface.

The curving cobblestone lane beyond was filled with old take-out containers, cups, and sad-looking weeds. Down the far end was the grimy rear wall of another building with a metal door that had been wedged open. The luscious scents drifting out of it suggested it was a curry kitchen, and my stomach rumbled a reminder that it hadn’t been fed in a while.

I walked down, keeping to the side of the lane blocked by the bin so that no one on the main street could see me. Einar’s building ended about three quarters of the way down the lane, but a six-foot-tall concrete wall continued on, blocking any access or vision into the rear of the building. I couldn’t hear any conversation suggesting my targets were close, but I nevertheless swirled the wind into the rear courtyard, just to be certain. She came back empty of activity or sound.

I looked toward the street to double-check I couldn’t be seen. I’d vaguely agreed to remain in the lane and keep safe, but that wasn’t going to get me answers. I leapt up, grabbed the top of the wall, then slung one leg over and hung there for a second or two while I waited to see if anyone spotted me. There was no reaction, so I dropped down, my fingers briefly sweeping the gritty ground as I caught my balance. The courtyard was small—probably no more than ten by ten—with two rather grubby-looking plastic chairs sitting close to the junction of the building and the wall. The ground around them was littered with cigarette butts.

There were no windows along the back of the building, and the wooden door had seen better days. I padded across and pressed my hand against the wood. Its song was barely audible through the layers of paint and neglect. I deepened the connection, pushing past the surface music until the building’s interconnected network of power and song appeared in my mind’s eye. I slipped along the golden arteries that bound the building together, using the highway as a means to understand the building’s layout and, more importantly, uncover where my two targets were. After a moment, I found them both in the front half of the building. There was no one else present, but that didn’t mean the back half was unguarded. It was a witch’s place of business, after all.

I pulled my knives from my purse and strapped them on. While there was every chance I wouldn’t need them, the last thing I wanted to do if I came under attack was fish around in my purse for a weapon.

I drew one blade and lightly touched its tip to the doorhandle. There was no reaction, which meant there wasn’t even a minor entry warning spell attached. Surprising, although given the amount of cigarette butts lying about, maybe he only activated his protections out of hours. It’d be far easier than having to weave in multiple exceptions, I supposed.

I resheathed the knife, then carefully opened the door and peered inside. The long hallway beyond was shadowed and, as the wood song had said, had three doors running off it. There was a fourth down the far end which led into the main room. I looked up, scanning the ceiling, but couldn’t see anything obvious in the way of physical security, and there was no hint of magic.

Maybe he did his main business elsewhere and saw no reason to protect this place. If his window display was anything to go by, this shop catered to tourists more than anything more magically serious.

I slipped inside, keeping my fingertips against the door to stop it from slamming. The air was warm and filled with the rich, bittersweet scent of wormwood. There were no trees nearby, so Einar obviously used it in his spell work.

I crept forward, keeping close to the wall where the floorboards were less creaky. The closer I got to the end door, the more the harsh sound of an argument intruded on the silence—Loudon’s more urbane tones juxtaposed against a stridently female one. Not the witch who had made my token, then.

As I drew closer to the closed door, my knives sparked in warning. I stopped and, after a moment, spotted the faint glimmer of spell work. While my knives could undoubtedly take care of it, doing so might give those in the other room warning and time to escape. Right now, knowing what they were discussing was far more important than confronting either of them—especially when I couldn’t force the truth from Loudon and had no idea who the woman was, or indeed, whether she too was an elf.

After a brief hesitation, I knelt and pressed my fingers against the floorboards. The voices sounded very close, and the wood song confirmed they were standing a few feet to my right—the woman behind what felt like a counter of some kind while Loudon paced on the other side. There was no one else in the shop, but the front door was now closed, so perhaps they’d wanted to ensure they weren’t interrupted.

“This is unacceptable,” Loudon was saying. “I was told to come here and retrieve the item. I was told you would have it ready for me. So where is it?”

The woman didn’t ask the obvious question—what item was he talking about?—which meant she already knew.

“I told you; I don’t know. Gannon received a call about an hour ago and left soon after.”

Meaning Gannon had received his call around the same time as Loudon had received his text. And yeah, it could have been a coincidence but there were too many of them starting to stack up.

“He left nothing for me?” Loudon growled.

“No. He simply said he would be back soon and to tell you to wait.”

“Aside from the fact I’m a busy man, it is dangerous for me to be seen here.”

“I am aware?—”

“No, I don’t think you are.” His pacing increased, his footsteps echoing angrily across the floorboards. “I got a visit from Meabh’s daughter today, and she was searching for information on the shield.”

The woman sucked in a breath. “What did you tell her?”

“That the scroll was currently under repair.”

“Which is the truth.”

“Yes, but?—”

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