Bound by Magic (7 page)

“No!” she squeaked, her eyes widening. “No, of course not. Let me just tell him you’re here. One moment.”

She snatched up the phone on her desk, and I waited patiently for her to speak to the Chief Editor. “He said he’ll see you in his office,” she said when she hung up. “It’s on the third floor, room –”

“I know where it is,” I interrupted, already moving past her to the stairwell on her left – I’d been here before. There was an elevator, but the thing was so rickety I didn’t dare trust it, so I trotted up the three flights of stairs to the executive offices.

Of course, that sounded a lot more impressive than it was – the floors were small, and there were maybe three offices total in this space. Faron Gor, the Courier’s Chief Editor, had a corner office that boasted some of the only windows that weren’t filthy or boarded up, so he had a decent view of the city from his desk. Like the lobby, his walls were covered in old framed newspaper clippings, and his frayed carpet was in desperate need of replacement. The space was cramped, taken up by shelves and file cabinets, with room for only a single wooden chair in front of his desk.

“Enforcer Baine!” Faron exclaimed as soon as he noticed me waiting at his open doorway. He stood up quickly, and rounded the desk to greet me. He was a wolf shifter, with dark coarse brown hair cropped close to his square head, rugged features, and a stocky frame. The grey suit he wore looked cheap, but clean. “Please, come in.” He held out a hand for me to shake.

I blinked, caught off guard by his genuine manner, but I shook his hand. “Thanks for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”

“Of course.” He sat down behind his desk again, and I made myself as comfortable as possible in the wooden visitor’s chair. “What can I do for the Enforcer’s Guild today?”

“I’m here regarding a series of kidnappings that have occurred over the last year.” I pulled a notebook from the inside of my jacket pocket, where I’d scribbled down the names from Sillara’s list, and read them off. “Do any of them sound familiar to you?”

An uncomfortable look flashed across Faron’s face. “They do, yes.”

I scowled at the admission. “Then why were so many of them unreported by the media? If you knew about them, surely your reporters did too, or you would have told one of them.”

Faron sighed. “I wanted to print those stories, I really did. They would have been good for business. But there was pressure from one of our major advertisers not to do so. They said that if we did they would take their business elsewhere, and we caved because we would have to close our doors without their income.”

“I see.” I wanted to berate Faron for giving in so easily, but given the precarious state of his business, I couldn’t blame him too much. His first priority was keeping his ship afloat, and if that meant catering to his advertisers then that’s what he had to do. “You know, that kind of suspicious activity is really something you should report to the Guild.”

Faron gave me a dry look. “It would just get filed away in the archives. With no bounty attached to the case, I doubt anyone would have a look.”

“Yeah, but at least the report would have left a trail and it could have saved me some time.” But I sighed, knowing the truth of his words – that was one of the major flaws with our system. “Can you at least give me the name of the advertiser now?”

“Of course. They’re called the Butcher’s Block.” He scribbled the name onto a piece of paper along with a phone number and handed it to me. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

The hopeful look on his face made me pause. “Should there be?”

His broad shoulders sagged a little. “Well I was hoping you were coming to me with something I could use for a story.”

A twinge of pity in my chest had me sighing again. “I don’t have anything concrete on these current murders yet, and I’m not really in the loop on anything else right now. But if I get hold of anything I can share with you, I’ll give you a call, okay?”

“I’d appreciate that.” Faron hesitated. “There’s something else you should know.”

“And what would that be?” I asked, my senses tingling at the tone in his voice.

“One of my reporters, Nevin Rindar, disappeared about two months ago. He was the reporter I would have assigned to write the stories. I filed a report with the Enforcer’s Guild, but they have yet to figure out what happened to him.”

“I’ll look into it.” If he’d only disappeared two months ago, he wouldn’t have been in Roanas’s files, which explained why his name hadn’t come up. “Do you have an address for his residence? It would save me a trip to the Guild.”

“Of course.” Faron wrote it down on another piece of paper and handed it to me. “I really hope he’s alright. He is a good reporter.”

“I hope so too.” But I didn’t have a good feeling about it. I vaguely remembered Nevin – I’d had to deal with him once or twice – and I suspected that whatever had happened to the others had befallen him as well. “I’ll let you know when I find out what happened.”

“Thank you.” Faron paused, his eyes shifting away for a moment before he met my gaze. “I know that we posted some uncomplimentary things in the paper about you when your…heritage…became public. I want to apologize for that.”

I shrugged. “You were just doing your job. I’m the Jaguar Clan’s outcast, and the Chieftain’s niece on top of it. Can’t imagine you’ve had a juicier story in a long time.” Old resentment bubbled up inside me at the reminder of those stories, but I pushed them down – there was no point in bringing it up.

“That’s true. Our sales skyrocketed during your hearing and imprisonment, I must admit.” Faron smiled briefly. “A lot of the shifters in the community don’t know how to feel about you, Sunaya. They want to hate you because you’re half-mage, and there’s a part of me that understands that. But I know how hard you fought to solve the silver murders. You’re one of the good ones.”

“Thanks.” I smiled, any resentment I felt toward the Courier evaporating. My nose told me his words were sincere, and they warmed me. “I’ll be in touch.”

I went to Lakin’s house next, and banged on the door for several minutes until he answered. His steambike was parked right out front, so I knew he was home, and damned if I was going to come back later. I didn't have a whole lot of time left until I had to report to the Mages Guild, so if I didn’t see him now I wouldn’t see him until tonight, if that.

“Oh for Magorah's sake!” Lakin finally shouted from the back of the house. “Just give me a moment, would you?”

I grinned at the sound of footsteps stomping across the floorboards, and a few seconds later, Lakin flung open the door. My eyebrows jumped as I took a good look at him – his short blond hair was sticking out in all directions, his lower jaw was covered in stubble, and he wore only a pair of loose drawstring pants that hung low on his hips, revealing his lean, muscular torso. His chest was lightly dusted with blond hair that trailed over his abdomen and disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants, drawing attention to the v-cut of his abdomen.

“Well good morning.” I waggled my eyebrows at him. “Do you normally answer the door like this, or is it just when the ladies come calling?”

“Sunaya?” A bewildered look crossed Lakin’s sleep-creased face, and to my surprise, he blushed. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you. Come in, come in.”

Bemused, I followed him inside, watching the self-conscious way he ran a hand through his hair. Shifters as a general rule weren’t modest, so I doubted Lakin was concerned that I’d just seen him half-naked. Maybe it was just that he looked so disheveled. I guess if my hair looked like that I’d be self-conscious too.

“Do you want coffee or anything?” Lakin asked, leading me into his kitchen. It was small but cozy, with the sink, counter and cabinets taking up the far side of the space, and the refrigerator and a small, wooden table and chair set on the other. “I just bought a new roast yesterday.”

“No, I’m good.” I wasn’t a huge coffee fan to begin with.

“Great. Let me just… can I just grab a shirt? I’m a little cold.”

“Uh, sure.” I arched a brow as he darted out of the kitchen. Shifters didn’t easily get cold, and it was the middle of summer. But I wasn’t about to call him on it – if wearing a shirt around me made him more comfortable then I wasn’t going to object. I wanted his full attention, after all. Bored, I fiddled with the cord of the red telephone that sat atop the table, twisting it around my finger as I waited for Lakin to return.

When Lakin finally came back, I could see he’d done more than throw a shirt on. I arched a brow at the sight of his wet, neatly combed hair and the pair of jeans he’d traded his sweatpants for, but again, I said nothing.

“So,” he said, clasping his hands together as he rested his forearms atop the table. “What’s going on?’

“I came to give you an update on the case.”

Lakin’s brows arched. “Have you?” His lips twitched a little. “I didn’t realize you’d been working on it without me.”

“Yeah, well I couldn’t stop thinking about it after I left so I decided to do a little more digging.” I told him about my visit to the Shifter Courier this morning, then pulled out the scrap of paper with the advertiser’s name and number on it. “I was thinking you might want to call The Butcher’s Block and question the contact. They don’t have a local office so a phone call might save some time.”

“How nice of you.” Lakin took the paper from me, still frowning. “It’s good to know I’m allowed to participate in my own investigation.”

My spine stiffened. “Are you saying that you would rather not have my help?” I asked, offended at his tone.

“No, no, of course not.” Lakin let out a huff. “I’m just frustrated that you made some headway while I ended up chasing my tail for most of yesterday.”

“Oh.” My scowl softened into a more sympathetic expression. “None of your interviews panned out?”

“Not a one so far.” Lakin shook his head. “Sillara’s partner told me that she’d come home to find her door unlocked not long after Sillara’s death, but she hadn’t noticed anything missing so she figured she’d just forgotten to lock up when she’d left. None of the families I’ve interviewed so far have told me anything helpful, and several of the missing shifters had moved to Solantha from outside Canalo. Their families, if any, will be hard to track down.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll get something helpful now. Why don’t you make that phone call?”

Lakin picked up the phone, then dialed the number on the piece of paper. We listened to the shrill ring tone for a couple of seconds, and then a receptionist answered in a cheery voice. Lakin asked for Borin Tate, the advertising rep Faron said had made the call.

“I’m sorry,”
the receptionist said after a moment.
“But there is no Borin Tate in the company register.”

“There isn’t?” Lakin scowled. “How long has he been gone?”

“To my knowledge no one by that name has never worked here.”
The receptionist paused.
“Is there someone else I can direct your call to?”

Lakin sighed in disgust. “Your current advertising representative would be a good start.”

“One moment please.”

Lakin gave me a look as the receptionist transferred him. “This isn’t going well so far,” he muttered.

“Yeah well, let’s see what this guy has to say.” But I bit my lip, privately agreeing with him.

“Hello, this is Wilam Randor,”
a male answered.
“Can I help you?”

“Yes, hello.” Lakin’s voice was smooth and professional. “My name is Inspector Lakin, and I’m calling from Solantha’s Shiftertown regarding an investigation. Do you have a moment?”

“Certainly.”
The man sounded surprised, but polite.
“How can I be of assistance?”

“It’s come to my attention that your company recently threatened to pull their advertising dollars from the Shifter Courier. Is this true?”

“Why no,”
the man insisted.
“The Shifter Courier brings us a significant amount of business each year. I wouldn’t think to do such a thing.”

“I see. And how long have you been employed in your current position?”

“Three years.”

“Okay. Have you ever used a temp, such as on sick leave or vacation, in the past year?”

“Oh no,”
the man said emphatically.
“Whenever I take time off my supervisor takes over for me. We don’t trust that kind of thing to temporary employees.”

“Alright. Thank you very much for your time.”

Lakin hung up the phone, then glared at the receiver. “Another dead end.”

“Yeah.” My shoulders slumped. If the person who’d made the phone call wasn’t an employee of the company, there was no way for us to track them down. The incident had happened far too long ago, in any case.

“Oh wait. There’s one more thing.” I dug out the other piece of paper Faron had given me and gave it to Lakin. “The Chief Editor also told me that one of his reporters, the one who would normally be in charge of writing up the disappearances, has disappeared himself recently.”

“Huh.” Lakin’s eyes lit with interest as he stared down at the address. “Say, that house is right up the street from here, a few blocks away. What do you say we check it out now?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Lakin donned his leather coat, and we walked over to Nevin’s house, leaving our steambikes parked outside Lakin’s residence. Like Lakin’s house, it was a small, one story dwelling, but unlike Lakin’s place there was a distinct air of neglect hanging about it. The grass on the front yard was nearly a foot high, the planters were empty of flowers, and there was the faintest whiff of rotting garbage.

“Ugh.” I pinched my nose as we approached the front door, the smell getting stronger. “How has no one come to investigate by now? This whole block is full of shifters. Surely they would have come over to complain about this stench.”

Lakin shrugged. “The smell’s not too bad from the street. He probably wasn’t incredibly friendly with his neighbors, and nobody cared enough about the smell to bother with it.”

“Yeah, well looks like garbage wasn’t his only problem.” I looked over at the overflowing mailbox hanging from the exterior wall to the left of the door. Grabbing a few letters, I noticed they were postmarked from the end of April. “I get the feeling the postman stopped delivering weeks ago .”