Page 69 of Horn of Winter

“I’m betting that shed,” Mathi said, studying the house rather than the shed, “houses all sorts of security measures that make doors surplus to requirements. There’s certainly a good range of measures on the house.”

“Not unexpected if he’s a collector.”

I walked around the front of the car and up the marble steps. Cameras tracked our movements, and the large intercom to the right of the double oak door came to life.

“How may we help you?”

What I presumed was a small circular camera positioned at the top edge of the intercom had lit up, so whoever that voice belonged to was obviously viewing us.

“We’re here to speak to Reginald Cowley on a matter of some urgency.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but as I said, the matter is urgent.”

“Then I’m afraid it is not poss?—”

“It’s about Borrhás’s Horn,” I cut in, “an item he commissioned Riayn and Vincentia?—”

I didn’t get a chance to finish. The oak doors crashed open, revealing not only a man-mountain, but the biggest fucking shotgun I’d ever seen in my life.

And it was aimed straight at my face.

Chapter

Ten

“I suggestyou do not give in to the temptation to pull that trigger,” Mathi said in a calm, somewhat dry tone, even as he edged slightly in front of me. “Because this woman is Sgott Bruhn’s adopted daughter, and I am the only son of Ruadhán Dhar-Val, and both those men could bring a whole world of IIT hurt down on you, your family, and whatever businesses you run if you decide to kill us.”

The big man studied us for several extremely long seconds, then took his finger off the trigger. He didn’t immediately lower the gun, however. “Prove it.”

I could almost hear Mathi’s eyes rolling. I dug my purse out of my handbag and showed the big man my driver’s license. Once Mathi had shown his, our stranger broke the gun open to make it safe, and took out the shotgun cartridges for good measure.

I didn’t relax. The anger remained in him, and while the gun was no longer loaded, it would still make a damn fine club.

“I’m Reginald Cowley. Why are you here?” His voice vibrated with anger and seemed to come from the depths of his boots. “What do you want?”

“What I’d like is an explanation as to why we were greeted with a shotgun,” Mathi said before I could say anything. “What we are actually here for are the details of your transaction with Riayn, and to ask whether you still have the horn in your possession.”

“That is a private contract between me and her. You have no right, and no authority?—”

“You’re right,” I cut in curtly. I was getting rather sick of people telling me that. “We don’t, even if we’re working with the IIT on a case involving the horn right now. So why don’t I just call Sgott Bruhn, and he can send a team out to do a thorough and complete search of your house, business, and acquisition records.”

Alarm flicked through his expression. Obviously, not all of his collection was legal. “Now, now, let’s not be hasty?—”

“Then start fucking cooperating, because people are dead and the horn is the reason.”

“You can’t think that I?—”

“Given you greeted us at the door with a loaded shotgun,” Mathi said in that same dry tone, “I certainly think we can.”

Reginald’s face lost more of its ruddiness. He muttered something under his breath, then stood to one side and motioned us in. “Second door on the left.”

I warily stepped past him, my gaze sweeping the hallway’s opulence, looking for anything in the way of magic and possible problems. There was no sign of magic, but there were a couple of security cams situated in strategic spots. He also wasn’t alone here, as there were several voices coming from the rear part of the house—a woman and a couple of kids, from the sound of it. Which, more than anything, had the tension within relaxing a little. Reginald might have a temper, but now that it had cooled, I doubted he’d cold-bloodedly murder us. Not with his family within earshot.

The second door on the left led into a study. There was a teak desk the size of a boat in the middle of the room, behind which were a plush leather chair and several glass-fronted antique bookcases that held a variety of leatherbound books, various old mugs, and other antique whatnots. There were no Viking items that I could see, and certainly nothing resembling a drinking horn.

Reginald locked the gun in a cabinet, then motioned us to sit in the chairs fronting the desk. I did. Mathi remained standing behind me.

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