Gods and Swindlers (City of Eldrich Book 3) (10 page)

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Steph said. “I’m only telling her what she needs to know.” She turned her attention back to Meaghan. “Nobody was happy to let the fair folk keep feeding, but like I said, it was a draw. I wasn’t involved either, so I don’t know the details about what happened. But I know somebody who was.”

“Luka?”

“Somebody else.” She looked back at Terry. “I called her while you were over there.”

Terry nodded.

“Called who?” Meaghan asked.

There was small knock on the forge door. Steph smiled. “How’s that for timing? Am I good or what? Honey, go let her in.”

Chapter Twelve

A
SMALL BLUE
face peered around the door.

Melanie.

She was Sid’s mother . . . parent . . . Meaghan still hadn’t gotten a grip on Troon reproduction. They were hermaphrodites and the decision as to which set of organs were used by which parent in a particular pregnancy was made carefully, based on health, physical capabilities, and lifestyle.

But apparently not based on gender preference. Melanie could easily be Sid’s father, despite her feminine behavior. Most Troon were androgynous, but others—particularly those with more extensive contact with humanity—exhibited a variety of gender characteristics. Sid claimed everyone was okay with this, but Meaghan wondered. Sid, whose mix of gender characteristics and sexual preference played in the human world mostly as male and gay, spent as much time with humans as he could, which—considering he had blue skin and tusks—was not in itself an easy choice.

Meaghan hadn’t worked up the courage to ask Melanie about it. Maybe gender was a lifestyle choice for the Troon, but Melanie seemed feminine to her core and reminded Meaghan—painfully sometimes—of Meaghan’s mother.

Meaghan gave her a big grin and waved. She hadn’t seen Melanie since the aftermath of the mess in Fahraya, and she felt a rush of relief to see her now. Melanie had translated for Matthew and knew most of his secrets, maybe even whatever was hidden in the redacted sections of his journals.

Melanie rushed to Meaghan’s side. “Oh, Meggy, I was so worried.” She pulled Meaghan to her feet and into a hug and gripped her tightly for a long moment, then stepped back. “Although I hear you gave them a fight.”

“Tried to,” Meaghan said. “But I’d have been in big trouble if Terry hadn’t shown up.”

Melanie eyed Terry with concern. “Are you all right? Still in control?”

Terry nodded. “I’m fine. Haven’t thought about drinking once during all this.”

“What about . . .” Melanie trailed off and gave him an appraising look, “the other thing?”

“That’s under control, too. Don’t worry. All the stuff we did is still working.”

Melanie knows the secret, if I can pry it out of her
 
.
 
.
 
.

“It’s not my secret to disclose, dear,” Melanie said. “And no, I’m not psychic. I merely know how your mind works.”

“I didn’t—”

“You’re like your father,” Melanie said. “You hate mysteries. You’re watching and listening and gathering scraps of information, and the first free moment you have, you’ll be digging away at it.”

“Which is why we should tell her,” Steph said. “Don’t you give me that look.”

“Fine,” Terry grumbled. “Tell her whatever you want,” but first, can we please get back to the current crisis? The evil, iron-immune elf in Meaghan’s basement? Remember him?”

Melanie sucked in a breath. “Truly immune?”

“No,” Terry said. “At least as far as I can tell. But resistant to a higher degree than I’ve seen before. He managed to screw with John’s head while making everyone else think the spell wall was holding—even the witch who conjured it.”

Melanie shook her head. “You have to keep the iron in contact with their bodies.”

“We did,” Meaghan said. “He was chained at the wrist and ankle.”

Melanie’s eyes grew wide with fear as she clutched Meaghan’s arm. “Then it’s true. I was hoping it was merely propaganda. This is bad. Very bad.”

“Why is it bad?” Meaghan asked. “Here, sit down.” She guided Melanie to the chair before she collapsed and dragged Meaghan to the floor with her. “Unless they’re growing immune to iron faster than humans are growing immune to magic. Are they?”

Terry shook his head. “Nobody knows for sure, but my guess is humans are winning that race. We evolve faster.”

Something stirred in Meaghan’s memory. Something Melanie said. “When you were telling me about Fahraya, right before I went to get Jamie, you told me that magic is like radiation and it can cause genetic mutation. Wouldn’t they be affected by that?”

“No. They’ve always lived in a magical environment,” Melanie said. “They’re used to it.”

“Then what’s forcing these changes? What’s making them less sensitive to iron?”

Melanie sighed. “That’s a very good question, but there’s no one to research it. The magical worlds don’t trust technology and science, and humans who understand science, who have the skill and knowledge to unravel it, generally don’t believe in magic.”

“What about the Troon?” Meaghan asked. “You guys are non-magical. You have technology, right? Science?”

“To a degree,” Melanie said, “but we also have an economy based in large part on providing translation services to magical species. Nobody wants to rock that particular boat.”

Meaghan sighed. “So science gets subordinated to politics. Gee, we don’t have any of that going on in the human world.”

“No shit,” Terry said. “But I still think—based on nothing but my gut and three thousand years watching humans change—that we’re changing faster than they are.”

“Which is still bad because it means they need to be aggressive,” Meaghan said. “They need to get to the finish line before we do.”

“Yes and no,” Terry answered. “Those who are completely immune to iron are even rarer than impervious humans. Like unicorn rare. Rumored but never encountered. Humans are definitely ahead of the curve on that front.”

“Ultimately, they’re fighting a losing battle,” Steph said. “Unless—”

Meaghan pushed down her growing anxiety. “Unless they can root out the impervious
disease
, as that little jerk called it, before it spreads any further.”

Steph nodded. “That’s what happened to the guy who located your father.”

“Lou,” Melanie said. “Poor Lou.”

Meaghan nodded. “He told me in a dream that he got killed right after he found Dad. That’s what Mom was talking about.”

Terry looked at her quizzically.

“In another dream. Before I got clued in. My mom told me my father had kept his distance from me and Russ when we were kids because the war had started and it wasn’t safe. They were coming after me?”

“They wanted to, but we forced them to a draw first and they retreated,” Melanie said. “Until now.”

“Which means another bunch of magical nut jobs trying to kill me.” Meaghan sighed. “But it’s not like I’m gonna pass the impervious gene on. My window of opportunity closed a long time ago.”

“You’re a powerful symbol,” Terry said. “If they could get into your head, they’d turn you against the rest of us. Instead, they’ll have to kill you.”

“Then why didn’t they do it last night?”

Steph shivered and pulled her robe closer. “Because they like to draw it out and they need to make an example of you. Drive you mad with fear before they close in for the kill.”

And right behind the fear, here comes the rage
 
.
 
.
 
.
“Seriously? I had my entire understanding of reality turned inside out—at age fifty, mind you—and a week later, I was in another world kicking ass. I stared down those mystery stinky tentacle things when everyone else was crapping their pants.”

“Yes, Meg,” Melanie said, “but—”

“But nothing. I’ve saved the world. Twice now. And a bunch of scrawny, screechy, mind-screwing elves think they’re gonna bully
me
? Yeah, good luck with that.”

Steph pulled Meaghan into a tight hug. When she pulled back, Meaghan could see tears in Steph’s eyes, but she was smiling. “They don’t stand a chance against you.”

Meaghan took a deep breath. “You do know I’m only talking big because fear makes me angry, right? And that you can gauge the degree of my terror by how pissed off I am? Don’t start the victory lap yet.”

“No,” Melanie said. “We know we have a battle on our hands. But you do have a reputation. Which is why they sent your prisoner in. To find out more about you.”

“And you’ve acquitted yourself pretty well so far,” Terry said. “If you’re scared, you aren’t showing it.”

Meaghan sighed. “Yeah, I usually don’t. Unless you know what to look for.”

“Like towering rage?” Terry asked.

“Yeah,” Meaghan said with a smile.

Terry smiled back. “I know a little about that.”

“From back when you were a major dick?”

Steph rolled her eyes. “Not only then.”

“Hey,” Terry said. “I’m a teddy bear compared to how I used to be. I’m Santa. Remember?”

Steph stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss. “Yes, you are.” She smacked his belly. “And Santa better lay off the mochas, or next year he’ll be so fat he’ll need more reindeer to get his sleigh off the ground.”

“Ha, ha.” Terry smiled down at her.

They stood in the now-warm shed, silent for a long moment, until Meaghan broke the silence. “So, now what do we do?”

“Get out the thumbscrews?” Steph asked.

Terry sighed. “Honey—”

“I was kidding,” Steph said.

“Even if we used . . . intimidation”—Melanie wrinkled her small nose in disgust—“it wouldn’t get us useable information. But if we let the elf go, it will scurry back to its masters with information to use against us.”

“It’s not moving into Jhoro’s room,” Meaghan said. “I know that. So our options are killing it or letting it go?”

Terry sighed. “I’ll go get the sledgehammer.”

Maybe there’s a third way
 
.
 
.
 
.
“No,” Meaghan said, with a smile. “No, we don’t kill it. We’re going to let it go.”

“And it will use everything it’s learned to hurt us,” Melanie said, shaking her head.

“So then we make sure it learns what we want it to learn,” Meaghan said.

“We scam it,” Terry said.

“Exactly,” Meaghan said.

“Time to call Luka,” Steph said.

This time, Terry didn’t argue with her. He merely nodded. “Time to call Luka.”

Chapter Thirteen

T
HEY AGREED TO
keep the elf under guard in the basement until they developed a plan. Meaghan knew she wanted to misdirect the fair folk, but she wasn’t sure what idea she wanted to plant in their heads. She hoped the mysterious Luka would help her figure it out.

“Luka’s in Seattle,” Steph said.

Terry looked surprised. “How do you know that?”

“Owen.”

Terry frowned. “This was always gonna happen, wasn’t it? No matter how I feel about it.”

Steph smiled back. “Yes. Yes it was.” Her face grew serious. “They’re here and we have to deal with them. We can’t do it without Luka and you know it.”

Terry sighed. “You want to call him or should I?”

“Owen called him last night. He’ll be here this afternoon.”

Terry nodded. “What’s he doing in Seattle?”

“Schmoozing a tech titan, I suppose. He’s friends with all those guys.”

Terry allowed himself a smile. “They’re friends with him, you mean. Or his money, at least.”

“Something like that.” Steph turned her attention to Meaghan. “See? Mystery solved.”

Not by half,
Meaghan thought.

They agreed to wait until Luka’s arrival to figure out what information to feed the elf. In the meantime, Terry would accompany John on his day’s errands, the first of which was digging Meaghan’s car out of the snow. Meaghan would borrow Russ’s car and go into the office as she’d originally planned. Steph and Melanie would head over to Meaghan’s to help the witches stand guard.

“I won’t kill the damn thing,” Steph said. “Unless it needs killing.” She glared at Terry. “That’s the best I can promise.”