Gods and Swindlers (City of Eldrich Book 3) (6 page)

Russ walked in. “Your bag’s in your room, I put fresh sheets on your bed, and . . . well, we have news, too.”

Before he could say more, the front door opened with a bang, and a female voice shouted, “Where is that little shit?”

Meaghan felt a brisk draft blow through the kitchen.
What the hell?
When did the wind kick up?

Steph Donner stormed into the kitchen, her blonde hair streaming behind her, Terry on her heels.

“Baby, calm down,” Terry said. “It’s safe. We’ve got it contained.”

“The only safe elf is a dead elf, and I can’t believe you didn’t kill it on the spot.” She took a deep breath, then noticed Meaghan. “Meg, sweetheart, how are you?”

“Fine, Steph, fine. How are you?”

“Enraged. Sorry to barge in, but—”

“Don’t blame Terry,” Meaghan said. “It was my idea to bring the elf home. So I can question him. It wasn’t safe to stay in the woods.”

Steph rubbed her temples like she was in pain. “I thought we could have a normal life for a while.” She looked at Terry. “So, you want to tell her or should I?”

Terry looked nervous. “I’ll do it. I’m the one who got us into trouble with them in the first place.”

“So,” Meaghan said. “Who are you? What are you?’

“Er, well, I’m . . .” He gestured at Steph. “We’re kind of—”

“Immortal,” Steph said.

Chapter Seven

“I
MMORTAL HOW?” MEAGHAN
asked.
My neighbors tell me they’re immortal, and I go right to the details. I don’t even have denial moments anymore.

“What do you mean, how?” Terry asked. “We don’t die, that’s how.”

“Yeah, but how did you get that way?”

John looked sick. “I swear I told her nothing.”

Terry nodded. “It’s okay, Johnny. We knew our cover would get blown eventually.”

“We don’t know for sure,” Steph said. “We were born human and then one day something went boom, and most of the village and people were gone, and we stopped aging. Or at least stopped aging at the regular rate. We were in our twenties back then and now we’re middle aged. So, I guess, technically, we aren’t immortal.”

“Something went boom?” Meaghan asked. “Magic?”

“Yeah,” Terry said. “But we don’t know who did it or why. But we think we know now what happened to everybody who vanished.”

“They are my ancestors,” John said. “We think this is how Fahraya was made.”

“Seriously?” Meaghan looked around. “Does everybody else know this?”

Judging by the looks on everyone’s face, Meaghan felt confident that this was news to them, too. “So, how did you figure this out?”

John shrugged. “Their story fits our story. I told you the Fahrayan legends about how wizards had a war and created our world, and how magic was taboo because we don’t want them to come back?”

Meaghan nodded.

“Terry told me about his village, and how he and Steph came to be like they are now.”

Steph nodded. “After it happened, we all had magical abilities we hadn’t had before.”

“You’re a witch?” Natalie asked.

Terry shook his head. “Nah. Nothing like that. One-trick ponies, most of us. Like one person’s power—”

“Shattered,” Steph said. “I’ve got practically nothing. Some of us got more. Terry’s cousin—”

Terry gave her a warning look. “Leave him out of it.”

Steph rolled her eyes. “This again?”

“He has as much right to his privacy as we do.” Terry turned to Russ. “You got any coffee? I could use some coffee.”

Russ grinned. “You want a mocha? I’ve got some new organic chocolate I want to try out.”

“You read my mind,” Terry said.

Cousin?
Meaghan was intrigued. But she knew that Terry would clam up if she pushed too hard. Time for a side step. “So the Fahrayan thing. Beyond the magic, what leads you to think the two events are related?”

Steph pulled out a chair and sat down. “Russ, could I trouble you for a cup of tea?”

“No trouble at all.” Russ busied himself making beverages. “There’s soup if anybody’s hungry.”

It turned out everybody was. After the soup was dished up, Meaghan renewed her line of questioning. “So how are you related to Fahraya?”

John piped up. “There are things similar in how we talk and how we write. We have stories about the time before the wizards made Fahraya that are like what Terry and Steph know.”

“What we remember,” said Steph. “It was a long time ago.”

“How long?” Meaghan asked.

“We don’t know for sure. It’s hard to keep track after a while,” Terry added, before sipping more coffee. He held the mug in front of him like a shield.

That’s how he copes
, Meaghan thought.
He’s replaced alcohol with coffee.
“I guess this is a sign I’ve been in Eldrich too long, but I know a leprechaun, Owen Finnerty, who says the same thing.”

Steph nearly spilled her tea. Terry began coughing. They exchanged a quick glance.

They know Owen.
“Give me a rough estimate.”

“Uh,” Terry began, “I was still working with copper and bronze, and iron didn’t catch on in a big way in Europe for at least another few hundred years, so three thousand years ago?”

“That sounds about right,” Steph said.

“Wow,” Meaghan said. “So, what’s the deal with the fair folk?”

Terry and Steph glanced at each other again.

“Look,” Meaghan said. “I get it. You’ve got some big dark history you don’t want to disclose. Fine. But at least tell me what we’re dealing with. If you don’t want to tell me why you’re hiding from them, that’s your choice. But I need to know why they’re here now and if it’s about more than tracking down the two of you.”

Terry sighed. “Best case scenario—for the rest of you at least—is them tracking us down. Worst case—”

“The war’s starting again,” Meaghan finished.

“You know about that?” Terry asked.

Meaghan nodded. “My mom told me about it in a dream. And Dad did a purposefully crappy scrub job on his files. The references to the war were expunged, but in a way that left obvious holes in the record. And Owen told me a little.”

Terry and Steph exchanged a glance.

You’d think after three thousand years they would have learned how to lie better,
Meaghan thought.
They’re as transparent as John.

“Did Owen tell you about the fair folk?” Steph asked. Terry opened his mouth as if to object and Steph held up her hand. “There’s no point in pretending we don’t know him. I told you both that we couldn’t pull that one off for long.”

Meaghan smiled.

Steph smiled back. “I could see you connecting the dots. Yeah. We know Owen. From way back in the day. Did the little stinker rat us out?”

Meaghan shook her head. “No. He didn’t say a word about you guys.”

“This is all very interesting,” Lynette said, “but it’s getting late and we need to figure out what we’re doing about your house guest. Does he need a guard?”

“Yes,” Steph said. “They’re sneaky little shits. You should have a witch monitoring things all night to make sure the spells are holding.”

“You want me to call the troops?” Lynette asked Natalie.

“Yeah, I guess,” Natalie said. “Call Susan. And Gretchen. This might be a good learning experience for the apprentices.”

Terry shook his head. “No. You don’t want newbies down there. You want tough-as-nails experienced witches.”

“They don’t get tougher than Gretchen,” Natalie said. “Susan’s pretty good, too.”

“Susan’s in the Bahamas playing golf,” Lynette said.

“Oh, hell.” Natalie rubbed her eyes. “I forgot about that. Let me think about who else we could call.”

Lynette sighed. “It’s times like this I miss Marnie.”

There was a frozen silence until Lynette broke it. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. If you all want her to feel normal again, you have to start treating her that way. She’ll never get her power back if you treat her like she’s made out of glass. Or pretend she doesn’t exist. She’s a tough girl or she wouldn’t still be here.”

Meaghan felt her face flame and stared at the table. Marnie had been raped repeatedly by the Order wizards when they’d taken her back in August. When Meaghan thought of Marnie, she felt ashamed again that she was struggling to deal with an attempted rape, when Marnie had been through so much more.

John slipped his hand into Meaghan’s and tugged her gently to her feet. “A lot has happened. Meaghan needs to rest. We’ll go upstairs now, okay?”

Russ nodded. “Okay.”

Natalie said to Lynette, “Call Gretchen for now, okay? We can figure out the rest of it tomorrow. Tell her she can stay in the guest room. So can you. We can take shifts.”

Meaghan looked at her. “What about Jhoro? Where’s he sleeping these days?”

Russ sighed. “Yeah, about that. Remember I said I had news? Jhoro took off a couple days ago.”

“Where’d he go?”

“Somewhere in South America. With Sid.”

“South America? What the hell?”

“Shaman training,” Russ said.

“That druggy rainforest stuff?” Meaghan asked.

Russ rolled his eyes. “You can take the grandeur out of anything. Yes,”—he made air quotes—“that druggy rainforest stuff.”

Jhoro, John’s nephew, was a self-taught shaman, at least until now, using substances that had been available to him in Fahraya. The high levels of background magic, in addition to forcing mutations in the human inhabitants, like reduced size and wings, also affected the plant life. In addition to a trippy high, the roots and fungi Jhoro had experimented with also gave the user temporary, but powerful, psychic abilities.

Meaghan had taken her own little trip back in June, when she had journeyed to Fahraya to rescue Jamie, and was still having occasional flashbacks. Jhoro had psychic abilities that transcended anything that anyone in Eldrich had ever encountered, but the language barrier, and Jhoro’s overwhelming grief for the lover he’d lost when Fahraya had been destroyed, made his powers difficult to assess.

“He’s with Sid?” Meaghan asked Russ. “How’d they get there?”

“Owen set it up. That guy he works for has a fleet of corporate jets and the pull to grease any entanglements along the way.”

“Like the fact Jhoro has no official human identity,” Meaghan said, “and therefore no form of identification, and Sid is blue and has tusks?”

Sid was Troon. A non-magical race with a fluid concept of gender, they were the universal translators of the magical worlds. The Troon language was so complex it made everything else seem easy, particularly primitive human languages that required only one set of vocal cords to pronounce.

“Yeah, basically. Owen says with enough money you can take anybody anywhere. And I guess his boss has enough money.”

Meaghan glanced over at Terry and Steph who were not exchanging a glance in a very deliberate way.

So, Owen works for the mystery cousin,
Meaghan thought.
The reclusive venture capitalist guy. If he’s got that much money, there has to be a paper trail somewhere.

Instead of pointing at Terry and Steph and saying “aha!” like she wanted to, Meaghan instead asked, “Is Jhoro coming back?”

Russ shrugged. “Eventually. I guess.” He looked at Natalie. “You know anything?”

Natalie stared at her feet. She was still embarrassed about her role in the infamous Labor Day love-spell fiasco. She’d cast a spell to make Jhoro, who was gay, feel attracted to women and fall madly in love with her. She’d succeeded, partly, only instead of Natalie, Jhoro had hooked up with Marnie, which resulted in Marnie enduring her ordeal at the hands of the Order.

“Sid says he can’t wait until Jhoro learns enough Spanish so that Sid can get out of there,” Natalie said. “Jhoro says he’s coming back, but Sid doesn’t know when. Sid really hates the rainforest.”

“Yeah,” Meaghan said with a smile. “I bet he does. Too many bugs and not enough celebrity gossip.” She turned to John. “Did you know about this?’

“Uh, maybe,” John said. “Don’t get mad.”

“Have I really been that bitchy?” Meaghan asked.

“Yes,” everyone said.

Chapter Eight

M
EAGHAN WOKE UP
with her bladder full and her nightgown damp with sweat. John was curled around her, snoring gently and radiating heat like a furnace. She slid slowly out from under his arm, trying not to wake him, and checked the bedside clock. A few minutes after five. It wouldn’t be light for another hour and a half at least.