Page 41 of The Tree of Spirits
“The people who stole your trucks, whoever they are, are probably the same people who just tried to blow us all up,” I said.
“Oh, really?” Raytan barked, crossing his arms.
“We need to figure out who they are. And get your stuff back.”
“Thank you for that. I’m so glad we had this conversation. I never would have realized that without your invaluable input.”
A few of his men snickered.
“And, by the way, kid, I already know who’s responsible. TheElves.” Raytan growled the word.
“Wait, are you just saying that because Metamorphs and Elves have this whole mortal enemy thing going on, or do you have anyactualevidence?”
He grunted. “I don’t need evidence.”
“Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s how this whole catching-the-bad-guy thing works.”
Raytan’s icy smile shot chills down my spine. “You are so naive.”
The Metamorphs shuffled around the garage, restless and angry. Their trucks had been stolen and a bunch of their friends were lying wounded in bed. And now they were out for blood.
“If you launch an attack on the Elves here in the Emporium, the Watchers will stop you. And then you’ll be deported,” I warned them.
“It would be worth it,” Raytan said, and the others nodded.
“Is it worth it, though? Is it really worth throwing away everything you’ve built here—your business, your reputation—on a petty feud?”
“The Elves tried to blow us up!”
“You don’t know that,” I replied calmly. “Let me look into this. Let me get to the bottom of what’s going on. If I can’t, you can always go berserk on the Elves later.”
Raytan considered my words. “You have one hour, kid. That’s as long as I can hold off my boys.”
I believed him. Although maybe his one hour was overly optimistic. The other Metamorphs looked ready to march into bloody battle this very second.
“I need to speak to the four Metamorphs wounded in the explosion. Can you get me in to see them?” I asked Raytan.
He frowned. “Why do you want to waste your time talking to them? I told you the Elves are behind it.”
“You also told me I have one hour,” I reminded him. “So how about letting me decide how to use it? The wounded were closer to the blast. One of them might have seen something, some hint of who’s behind this.”
Raytan shrugged. “Fine, whatever. If you want to waste your time, then go right ahead. I’ll bring you to them.”
The Metamorphs started walking. I followed.
“So what’s the deal with this feud between Metamorphs and Elves?” I asked Raytan.
“It’s pretty simple actually. Elves are insufferable twits who think they’re better than everyone else. And we Metamorphs don’t stand for anyone looking down on us.”
“Surely, it must be more complicated than that.”
“Why?” he asked. “Because people are so inherently rational, enlightened, and accepting of anyone who’s different than they are?”
He had a point. People could be real boneheads, humans and supernaturals alike.
There wasn’t more to say, so we didn’t say anything at all until we were back at Raytan’s Removals.
Raytan brought me upstairs to an open room with four single beds—and four wounded Metamorphs. “Savannah is going to ask you some questions,” he told them, then added with a wolfish smile, “Don’t eat her.”
