Page 9 of Shield of Fire

Gilda was the light elf my former lover—Mathi Dhar-Val—had been having an affair with while we’d still been an item. We’d discovered after we’d found her brutally dismembered that she had, in fact, been giving him Borrachero—a type of truth serum that put one into a twilight zone of consciousness—to pump him for information about the council’s activities.

We’d also found one of the shield’s three rubies hidden in Gilda’s bedroom but had no idea how she’d acquired it. She’d obviously been working with someone, and just as obviously must have double-crossed them at some point given their brutal retaliation. We suspected the men responsible for her murder were the same people who’d kidnapped Mathi in an attempt to regain possession of Gilda’s ruby, but we’d never know for sure now, given all four had been murdered while in IIT custody.

How that had happened despite the intense security that had surrounded the men, no one could say for sure. The last person to see them alive had been Carla Wilson, their lawyer, who’d since disappeared.

The general consensus was that she’d been murdered to stop any possibility of the IIT questioning her about her now-dead clients, but I doubted it. From what I’d seen in Eithne’s Eye—the black seeing stone Mom had used to direct and amplify her second sight when relic hunting for the old gods, and which now formed part of a triune designed to provide we Aodhán with foresight, knowledge, and protection—Carla had not only been working with the organization that had stolen the Éadrom Hoard, but was high up the organization’s ladder. Instinct said she was too damn important for them to kill off, especially when it was easy enough to buy a spell that could completely alter your features.

Hell, for all we knew, the Carla who’d visited in the cell wasn’t the real one, but someone magically wearing her form in order to frame the real Carla.

Mathi was currently trying to get the IIT’s security tapes but was having some difficulties despite having been given full access to the IIT’s system by Ruadhán, his father, the man in charge of the daytime division.

But it was possible Sgott was thwarting his efforts. He might not be able to cut Mathi’s access to the IIT’s files, given he didn’t run the entire division, but he could certainly make access far more difficult for Ruadhán’s only son.

Sgott was also aware that my visions had pinned Carla as one of the people involved in Mom’s death, but all he kept saying was, “Let me handle it.” I loved and respected the man, and I totally understood his unwillingness to bend the law too much, even for family, but I would not idly stand by and do nothing.

Mom had been murdered by someone she trusted. Whether that meant she’d known Carla, or even the hereto-unknown man I’d heard Carla talking to in my visions, I couldn’t say.

But I very much intended to find out, no matter how long it took.

“Do you know if the IIT has thought about hiring a spirit talker to attempt contact with Mathi’s four kidnappers?” I asked. “If they can be contacted, they could provide some useful information about the ruby and how it came into Gilda’s possession.”

“Aside from the fact spirit talking is a legal minefield that requires the IIT to gain court approval and written permission from their nearest and dearest first, there’s a time limitation for effectiveness.”

I raised my eyebrows. “If that’s true, why do so many bereaved people visit spirit talkers for years and years to commune with their loved ones?”

Cynwrig’s answering smile held an edge of cynicism. “Many spirit readers are also good people readers, and repeat business is very profitable. Besides, those four men were probably nothing more than contractors rather than the brains behind the theft of the hoard.”

“Maybe not the brains, but I’m pretty sure they were more than mere contractors.”

“Possibly, but we may never know. The IIT are playing their cards very close to their chests regarding those men and their backgrounds.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t been conducting your own investigations?”

“Of course, but with little success. Those men, whoever they truly are, appear to have been new players.”

“Is that usual in the black-market world?”

“Players come and go all the time, for all manner of reasons. It is unusual the gossip mills have no background information on them, however.”

I glanced around at the sounds of approaching sirens. More ambulances, cops, and even several black IIT vehicles were arriving. I hoped the latter had thought to contact a witch, because no one was getting near that building until the ruby’s unnatural flames were put out.

As two medical trolleys were hauled out of the ambulances and wheeled in our direction, Franklyn finished his ministrations on my captive, then sat back on his heels and sent a stern glance my way. “When those trolleys get here, I will take you and this young man to the hospital, and not even Lord Lùtair’s presence will prevent that from happening.”

The man in question held up his hands. “I have no intention of stopping you, trust me.”

Franklyn sniffed, a disbelieving sound if ever I heard one. Obviously, Cynwrig had prevented someone from being transported in the past and that, once again, had all sorts of questions rising.

It was a shame Franklyn was an elf and therefore immune to my pixie wiles. I had a feeling he’d be able to answer most of them.

Cynwrig returned his attention to our captive. “How was the contract arranged? Did Keelakm contact you directly?”

The man snorted. “You should know better than that, my lord. Like all such things, they did it through a broker.”

“Kaitlyn?” I asked.

“Yes.”

No surprise there. She ran one of the UK’s biggest brokerage services, and she didn’t particularly care if said services fell within or without the boundaries of the law. She’d been responsible for organizing several contracts on me during our search for the Claws and had been warned off ever doing so again—a warning she would undoubtedly ignore if enough money was placed on the table. Kaitlyn wasn’t a fool, but her agreement with Ruadhán—one that offered her protection against prosecution in exchange for information—had, from what I’d seen, given her a sense of invincibility.

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