Nicole Peeler - [Jane True 01] (38 page)

That was when I saw the sack. As they passed, I noticed that Jimmu
carried a large burlap bag, soaked with red stains, over his shoulder. I
shuddered at the sight, my brain taking a moment to catch up to what I’d
instinctively recognized.

Jimmu and the other nagas had reached the first dais by this time. They
mounted it in one smooth motion, fanning out into formation and dropping down
onto one knee apiece, heads bowed. Jarl watched them with obvious pride,
returning their obeisance with a slight inclination of his head.

“Report!” his voice rang out. Jimmu stood.

“Justice has been served,” he said, his snake tongue flickering between
his lips. I’d never heard him speak before now, and his voice was just like his
eyes—cold and dead.

I put a hand protectively over my stomach as I watched Jimmu swing the
sack down from off his shoulder. I had a pretty good idea of what he was
carrying, and my only goal at this point was not to barf on the table.

“The murderer was apprehended,” Jimmu continued, pulling a rolled up
piece of paper from his leather jacket’s breast pocket. “And a confession
extracted,” he said, as he passed the paper to Jarl. Jarl didn’t even bother to
open it, passing it wordlessly to Orin and Morrigan. They read it in silence,
nodding once when they’d finished.

“And you took action?” Orin asked, his voice dispassionate.

“Of course, my King,” Jimmu said, as he opened the sack.

I braced myself as I watched the naga upend his bloody burden. It felt
like it took eons; time had slowed in the way it tends to when you’re about to experience
something that will change you forever. I’ll never forget the sound that the
naked, gore-encrusted limbs made as they smacked against the wood floor of the
dais. First an arm, and then a piece of torso, and then the rest of the various
bits that make up a whole human being fell out of the sack with a dizzying
array of crunches and splats. I tasted bile as I looked around me. But instead
of sympathetic looks of horror, no one looked particularly bothered except for
Ryu. Who knew, as well as I did, that whoever was in that sack was not the
killer but some innocent victim of the nagas’ deadly games.

When Jimmu bent down to pick up the head, holding it aloft by the hair
so that all could see, my world shrank as everything went wonky. The dead man’s
eyes were rolled into the back of his head, and I saw that he had a beard. It
was well groomed. The beard, believe it or not, was what pushed me over the
edge. It’s not that I recognized the body; he was a stranger. But seeing that
carefully trimmed beard—a symbol of the man’s everyday existence—brought home
to me his humanity and his vulnerability. I swayed on my feet, dizzily reaching
for the table as I nearly went down. From a very great distance, I heard
someone shout “Nooo!” in an anguished voice. “It’s all a lie,” the voice
continued, panicked. It was a very loud voice, I thought, as my stomach
continued to heave. And very close. Very, very close, in fact.

That’s when I realized that the voice was mine.

And all eyes of the Alfar Court were on me.

I should have worn the underpants,
I thought, as my
brain began to understand the implications of what my mouth had just done.
Because
I am so going to die
.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A
ll eyes
were on me: some curious and some clearly shocked. Ryu’s eyes expressed the
latter sentiment—he was staring at me like he’d never seen me before in his
life.

I blinked, still unable to believe that I had been the one who spoke.

Crawl under the table!Now!
my brain was shouting, but my feet
were rooted to the floor.

It was only when Jimmu began to move toward me that Ryu seemed to
recover. He moved in front of me, toward the central dais.

“May I approach, my King? My Queen?” he requested, his voice strong and
clear. Orin and Morrigan nodded slowly in unison, and Jimmu halted.

“Please forgive my companion’s outburst,” he said, moving out into the
center of the aisle but still leaving quite a bit of distance between him and
the nine nagas. “She did not mean to say that our esteemed colleagues are
lying. Rather, she was voicing our shared opinion that there must be a deeper
mystery to these murders.”

There was a murmur of voices from all around us, as various beings
whispered back and forth. They were probably placing bets on how long Ryu and I
would live, and I had a pretty good idea that the odds were
not
in our
favor.

“After all,” Ryu continued, smooth and confident as a silk bustier. “How
could a mere
human
take on two full-grown goblins?” He paused for
effect, and I saw a number of heads nodding. He was playing his audience like a
fiddle.

“It’s not that I doubt the nagas’ word,” he said, ever so earnestly. “I
know how loyal Jimmu and his nestmates are to their master, but perhaps—just
perhaps
—this
human only played a peripheral role in the murders.” I enjoyed Ryu’s little
jibe at Jarl but I didn’t like him giving
any
credence to Jimmu’s
slaughter of an innocent. Meanwhile, I could see that the nagas had tensed
slightly and had shifted their positions so that they were
just
that
much more defensive. Their snake tongues were furiously sampling the air,
tasting the crowd’s reactions to Ryu’s words and trying to anticipate what
would happen.

Orin and Morrigan were looking into each other’s eyes and I got the
feeling they were silently communing. Jarl took the opportunity to butt in, and
I caught the slightest edge of desperation to his voice as he tried to regain
control of the situation.

“What is the meaning of this disturbance, Ryu Bao-bhan Sith?” Jarl
interjected. “Your words are a clear provocation against my foster sons and
daughters who have served our community so loyally. You say that you mean no
slight, and yet you imply that they are, indeed, deceitful. I appreciate
neither your spoken words nor their unstated implications.”

Ryu’s hazel eyes had widened, expressing his—entirely feigned—disbelief
at Jarl’s words.

“My lord,” Ryu said, appearing aggrieved. “I am very sorry if I have
given the impression that I doubt the nagas’ loyalty. I am absolutely certain
that they performed their duty faithfully. Undoubtedly, this human was somehow
involved in these murders.” I took a deep breath and counted to ten. Ryu had to
do what he had to do.

“I am simply voicing the view that many of us have expressed since
hearing of these dreadful crimes—that a
human
cannot have been wholly
responsible for these murders.” Many heads were now nodding, and the murmur of
the crowd increased but Ryu pressed on, his voice rising in volume to combat
the din.

“But there is, of course, a fairly simple way of proving or disproving
this theory.” With these words the room went silent.

For a split second I saw a flash of concern cross Jarl’s face, although
the nagas remained as impassive as statues.

Morrigan’s eyebrow arched elegantly. “Continue, investigator,” she
commanded.

Ryu’s voice betrayed not a single note of triumph, but I knew him well
enough at this point to sense that was what he was feeling. The set of his
shoulders, the slight uplift of his chin—everything about his posture said
“check, and mate.”

“My Queen.” He bowed. “Knowing that Jarl had set his most trusted
servants the task of discovering the murderer, and knowing that they would
perform their duty tirelessly, I thought it wise to bring with me a piece of
evidence from my
own
investigation of these crimes that might be helpful
in ascertaining the true guilt of the murderer.”

Throughout the room glances were being exchanged—no one had known that
Ryu had any role in the investigation. A few shot me curious looks—his showing
up at the Compound with a halfling in tow probably made a lot more sense.

Ryu, meanwhile, had nodded toward Wally who stood up and began fishing
around in his enormous pantaloons. Finally, he pulled out the shopping bag that
Ryu had picked up from Nell and Anyan’s cabin. Wally waddled over to give it to
Ryu, who gave the djinn a tight grin and a curt nod. Wally returned Ryu’s smile
benignly, but I caught a glimpse of his eyes. They gleamed with anticipation
and aggression. I quailed internally, noting that the genie did not return to
his seat but instead backed to the edge of the aisle, remaining close to Ryu.

“I have in this bag the weapon that was used to kill Peter Jakes,” Ryu
explained, pulling out the bloody stone and holding it aloft. “A stone spirit
has already confirmed that this rock can identify who wielded it.” Ryu paused,
letting his words sink in before nodding to his king and queen. “My Lord,” he
said. “You have the power to ask the stone to identify the being who saturated
it with Jakes’s blood. I sincerely hope that it will justify the actions of
Jimmu and his nestmates. But in case there is an element of this investigation
that they have
accidentally
missed, then that, too, will be revealed.”

The entire hall held its collective breath as the Alfar lord and his
lady again silently communicated. After what felt like hours, they turned to
face their Court.

“It will be done,” Orin’s aloof voice rang out, as he stood. “Hold the
stone aloft.”

Ryu raised his arm, carefully balancing the stone on his open palm. The
nagas were tense, and I saw one of them casually reach behind her to adjust the
hilt of her sword. They were preparing for action. I started looking around for
exits.

Orin raised an arm, and I felt the stirring of a power even more intense
than that unleashed the night Nell opened the trunk of Peter’s car. The air was
crackling around me and my hair escaped from its updo to whip around my face. I
had to hold onto the table, until suddenly the power seemed to solidify and
focus on Ryu. Everything went quiet, although the air was pulsing with energy.
I knew now what people meant when they spoke of the calm at the eye of the
storm.

All eyes were focused on the stone, which was now floating just above
the reach of Ryu’s outstretched palm. It spun frenetically in the air,
occasionally darting this way and that only to return to its starting position
above Ryu’s head where it hovered uncertainly. Orin’s features sharpened as he
concentrated, and the stone suddenly stopped spinning. Everyone held their
breath, except for me. I took the opportunity to take off my shoes. I knew what
was coming.

There was a sharp gasp from the nahual next to me as the stone suddenly
shot toward the central dais as if it had been fired from a cannon. There was
another, more universal, exclamation as the stone whizzed straight over the
pile of man parts, darting unerringly through the air and straight toward
Jimmu’s head. The naga’s serpentine reflexes whipped his hand up and he caught
the stone gracefully, its weight smacking resoundingly against the flesh of his
palm.

“
No!
” Jarl cried, a look of absolute anguish disfiguring his
features, his hand clutching at his breast. “Jimmu…” he whispered, reaching out
his other hand toward his favorite servant.

The naga shook his head fiercely, dropping the stone and reaching for
the hilt of his sword. It hissed its release, the sound echoing through the
hall as the other nagas all unsheathed their own weapons.

“You do not control me, Jarl,” the snake man broke in, to Jarl’s evident
surprise. After a split second, the Alfar second-in-command seemed to recover
himself.

“Jimmu?” he repeated, only this time his voice was questioning.

“Jimmu and his nestmates act on their own,” the naga said, firmly. My
eyes narrowed.
I think the Christian just threw himself to the lions
.

Morrigan’s voice was still low and heavy, but there was an element of
tension to her tone. “Are you admitting to your guilt?” she asked.

“Yes. I killed the halflings and the goblins.” Jimmu’s voice was as
indifferent as if he were ordering coffee.

“Why, Jimmu?” Jarl asked. I wondered if he were asking why Jimmu was
sacrificing himself or if maybe—just maybe—he had genuinely been in the dark
about Jimmu’s actions. I hoped that was the case, but something told me not to
get too attached to that idea.