The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale (7 page)

Dante rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “And this week was going so well. Every time my stocks go up, something happens.” He looked at Brendan. “I know you don't think I personally had anything to do with it, so that means someone else in the court.” Dante's voice became monotone. “Gee, I can't imagine who would do such a thing.”

“Aye, two guesses.”

“Give me a second to get over the shock.” Dante's words dripped sarcasm. He took another drink. “There. Now, how do you want to handle this?”

“I need to know where they took the girl.” Brendan glanced at Justin and the other oíche, who were whispering in a tight group.

“You think he had something to do with it?”

“Maybe not directly. He's not the kind to get his hands dirty, but sure he knows something. He's still the top oíche around here, yeah?”

“He is,” Dante said. “Though I'm not entirely sure how that happened. I don't like delving into their side of things.”

“It was oíche I pulled off the girl and what got away with her purse.”

“Got away? How very uncharacteristic of you.”

Brendan glared.

Dante shook his head. “That was uncalled for. I'm sorry.”

“Well, I suppose I had it coming.”

Dante sighed. “No, you didn't, but as you said, there are bigger issues to address. Please, present your case.”

Brendan took a moment to choose his words. “Now, I'm not saying every oíche are vile things that need to be wiped from the face of—­”

Dante laughed. “Well presented. Of course you're certainly not saying they aren't.”

“Aye, fair play that.” Brendan shook his head. “I'm no use at this business. You and I both know they don't like playing by the rules. They were never happy about the hearth protections to begin with, and it was them what figured out the loophole.”

“Well, as magister, I find the evidence sufficient. So it falls on me to resolve this.”

Brendan laughed. “I'm sure they just love answering to a former high sidhe of the Dawn Court.”

Dante smiled, with teeth. “I don't really bother myself with trivial matters like that.”

Brendan laughed again.

“Well then, let's see what he knows, shall we?” Dante beckoned Justin over.

Justin whispered something to the other oíche before answering the summons. He flashed a murderous glare at Brendan, then bowed to Dante. “Yes, Magister?”

“Where's the
girseach,
you
cac ar oineach
?” Brendan said.

“Wow. You know, I do so love how you can just dance around a subject for hours on end,” Dante said to Brendan. “It's like a verbal ballet, really quite remarkable. Now, if it's quite all right with you, may I handle this?”

“Fine, handle it, then.” Brendan sat back and crossed his arms.

Dante looked at Justin and lifted his hands. “The stolen child?”

“I don't know what this
díbear
—­” Justin stopped when Dante's eyes narrowed. “I don't know what this Fian is talking about. What child?”

Dante rolled his eyes and let out a breath. “I know you think you're renowned liars, but that's really only with mortals. There were two—­not one but two—­violations of the Oaths.” Dante held up two fingers.

Brendan opened his mouth, but Dante glanced over, so he stayed silent.

“If you know something,” Dante said, “now is the time to tell me.”

Justin looked at Brendan and scowled. “So, now we answer to this—­”

“YOU ANSWER TO ME!” Dante stood and spun, kicking Justin's legs out from under him. He grabbed Justin's neck and stopped his fall just before his face hit the couch. “I've had just about enough of your snide comments.” Dante lifted Justin to his feet by his neck. “I don't care where you came from, you're a subject of the Rogue Court now, and you'll damn well respect its nobles!”

The whole room froze.

Brendan watched in silence. He'd forgotten how tall Dante was. He had several inches on Brendan, so he towered over Justin. This was, of course, in addition to the imposing presence that all high sidhe carried, slight of build or not.

“I.” Justin cleared his throat. “I don't know anything about it, Magister.” He spoke quietly, eyes locked on the floor.

“That's bollocks,” Brendan said. “He's shoveling more shite than a potato farmer. It was an oíche kidnapping, and we all know you lot are thick as thieves.”

“He makes a compelling point,” Dante said.

A long moment passed in utter silence as Dante stared Justin down.

Justin cursed under his breath. “They weren't my ­people.”

“So, you've got rogue, rogue fae?” Brendan shook his head. “Isn't that lovely?”

Dante closed his eyes. “Brendan—­”

Brendan lifted his hands and sat back.

“Where did they take her?” Dante asked Justin with a calm and even voice. “There can't be many places they could keep a mortal child and not raise flags.”

“I didn't approve of it!” Justin said. “I'm just as upset about the breaking of the Oaths as you.”

“Then answer me.”

“You can't ask me—­”

Brendan's jaw started to ache.

“Well then, it's fortunate for you that I'm not asking, isn't it?” Dante said.

“I don't know where they took her.”

“But . . . ?”

“But I'll find out.” Justin looked at Brendan and then Dante. “I'll let you know as soon I find out anything, Magister.”

“Dante,” Brendan said. “Time is an issue here.”

“You'll know before dawn,” Dante said. “Yes?”

Justin nodded once.

“Get to it.”

Justin went back to the other oíche and whispered. Brendan thought he saw a fleeting smile on Justin's face, but he couldn't be sure. Then the whole group of them went to the stairs and left the club.

Dante sat down, took a drink, and looked at Brendan. “Are you going to wait?”

“Aye,” Brendan said. “I don't like it, but if they brought her to Boston, I don't want to have to come all the way back.” He ran a hand through his hair and scratched his head. “I just need to get to the mother before the slumber wears off.”

“They used a slumber on her?”

“Aye, and the babysitter as well, not much older than twenty, I'd say. They even tried to leave a glamour child.”

“Oíche . . .” Dante rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The whole lot is still Dusk Court through and through if you ask me.” He leaned back into the sofa and looked at the ceiling. “You know, there was a time when the Rogue Court had honor. Back when it was about the freedom to rule ourselves and live amongst the mortals.”

“We both know the only reason you and your lot broke from the Dawn Court was because Teagan ordered you to.”

“That doesn't mean we don't enjoy being on our own, or that she didn't have good reason. The noon fae don't have any nobles. That's also not to say some of us haven't been expecting the oíche to cross the line and planned accordingly.” Dante winked and went to take another drink. Then he paused.

“What is it?”

“I'm just wondering, why take the child? This isn't just crossing the line. This is leaping miles past it. Why violate the Oaths like this when they've worked inside them, bargaining for children without any issue before now? Plenty of mortals are willing to bargain, so why take this one? And the glamour child, that's seriously old school.” He shook his head. “It doesn't make any sense. There hasn't been a stolen child in over a century.”

“I don't understand them any better than you.” Brendan leaned back and let out a breath. “It don't matter to me why they took her, just that they did. I don't get why you care so much about motives. It don't change a thing, does it?”

“Because it could be part of something bigger,” Dante said. “Maybe they're setting someone up to take the fall for it. Get Teagan and Fergus involved.”

“The oíche are schemers, and I wouldn't trust one to come in out of the rain. They know there'll be hell to pay. I just don't think they care.”

“I don't think they're that stupid.”

“I could argue that one there with you, boss. I'm sure they have some bigger plot at work, but I leave that to you and others like you to figure out.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” Dante said with a smile. It faded a moment later. “You've got your own motives, though, don't you?”

Brendan didn't answer.

“Don't pretend this is charity. It's beneath you.”

“It's about doing the right thing,” Brendan said.

Dante leaned his head back and let out a deep sigh. “Of course it is. I didn't mean to imply it wasn't.” He watched Brendan fidget for several moments. “While I appreciate this attempt at small talk, we both know you don't want to wait here.”

Brendan looked around the club. “I just don't know how you manage, or what got you to this bleeding state at all.”

“It's the burden of good taste.”

“Aye? That what you call it, then? I can remember when good taste was concert halls and art galleries.”

There was a long silence between them.

Brendan looked at Dante, who gave him a warm smile.

“I never thanked you for all you did,” Brendan said. “I'm sorry for that.”

Dante's smile widened. “It's just good to see you. Now go on. I'll call you when I hear something.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and opened it. “What's your mobile number?”

Brendan's mouth twisted. “Oh, aye, I've loads of use for one of them, don't I?”

Dante let out a breath. “Of course, why would you have a mobile phone? That would put you well into the current century. Can't have that, now, can we?” He gave Brendan a sidelong glance. “You do know what year it is, right?”

“I do just fine, thanks.”

Dante called one of the elves over. “I know it's not easy keeping up with trends, but I'm a great deal older than you, and I manage.”

“And you wonder why I don't visit,” Brendan said. “I just love the
craic
around here.”

“Kevan, give him your phone, please,” Dante said through a laugh without looking at the elf.

“What?” Kevan's head snapped from Dante to Brendan and then back again. “You can't be serious, Magister. Give my phone to him?” He motioned up and down at Brendan. “To him?”

Dante arched an eyebrow.

“But I just got it.”

“You'll get it back.” Dante glanced sideways at Brendan. “He will, right? Intact, I mean.”

“Oh, sure,” Brendan said. “I'll put it at the top of me to-­do list. Right before retrieving the little girl and—­”

“I'll get you another if he doesn't,” Dante said.

Kevan handed the phone to Brendan like a child told to give up his favorite toy.

Brendan looked at it as if it was going to explode. “How do you work the bloody thing?”

“For Finn's sake, Brendan, how do you manage?” Dante took the phone. “Thank you, Kevan.”

Kevan bowed to Dante and walked away, muttering.

“I'm surprised you drive that truck instead of a horse-­drawn cart. You know they have plumbing indoors now, right?”

“Just explain the fecking thing and be done with it, if you please.”

Dante laughed and held the phone up. “Don't worry about calling anyone. I'll call you. When I do, just press this.” He pointed to the Send button. “Before you ask, it'll say it's me when I call.”

“Deadly.” Brendan took the phone and got to his feet. “I'm off, then. I need to get me some air.”

Dante stood as well. “Where are you going to go? You're not likely to find a bar—­I mean a ‘pub'—­that isn't packed at this hour.”

“I'll just wander about for a bit. Reminisce with some ghosts and all that.” Brendan held out his hand. “Thanks, Dante. I appreciate the help.”

Dante shook Brendan's hand, then pulled him into a hug. “What are brothers for?”

“I've told you before. You're not me bleeding brother.”

“I know that.” Dante laughed. “I'm much too good looking to be related to you. But I'm the closest thing you've got.”

“Aye, don't be reminding me,” Brendan said through a smile.

Dante chuckled and motioned to the stairs. “I'll call you when I hear anything. Try not to cause any trouble out there. We can use this to our advantage, but only if—­”

“No promises.” Brendan waved to Kevan. “Thanks for the phone, lad!”

Kevan gave a wistful look, then went back to his conversation with a nymph.

“Brendan,” Dante said. “In all seriousness, I hope it doesn't take something like this for you to stop in next time. It's been too long, and Boston isn't the same without you.”

“Thanks again,” Brendan said as he made his way down the stairs. He waved at the bald man, who was checking the bruise on his neck in an ornate pocket mirror, moved quickly through the crowd, and made straight for the doors. As soon as his senses were no longer being assailed and he breathed the relatively fresh air, he felt more at ease.

He went over things in his head as he walked back to his truck and wondered about Dante's comment: “using the situation.” Maybe they could both find the
girseach
and settle scores with the oíche as well.

He grabbed his other knife from the truck and tucked it behind his back. Word would be out shortly that he was back in town. He locked the truck, tucked the keys away, and looked around at the skyline.

“Like it'll be as easy as all that. Just wait, the other shoe will drop anytime now,” he said to no one. “I just hope it drops instead of coming up and kicking me in the bollocks.”