“Roche still has friends in the Guard Des’Estar, friends who wouldn’t mind helping him even with the crimes he’s committed. For all I know, you’re in on this sham of an investigation.” I squinted, wondering how far I could push his buttons before he freaked. Not that I really cared, but I didn’t want to disappoint Father by getting myself fired.
Lathe sauntered around the desk, closing the door to the hall. He stood behind my chair and I felt a hand on my shoulder, his fingers gently massaging beneath the straps of my bustier.
“Life could be so much simpler if you’d just learn to compromise,” he whispered, nuzzling my neck. I tried to shake him away but he held my shoulders tightly, squeezing so hard it hurt. “You could go a long ways in the agency, and I’d be a good ally to have.”
“Uh-huh…tell me another one. And my heritage isn’t going to make any difference, as long as I fuck your brains out, right?”
“Little girl, you’ve got a lot to learn,” he said, kissing my ear. “I won’t approve any transfer, promotion, or anything unless you learn to cooperate. And by cooperate, I mean suck my cock. Got it?”
I stared at the floor, cheeks flaming. I loved sex, but this was force coercion. I refused to be pushed. And regardless, I didn’t mix business and pleasure. Father raised us to take pride in our work and do our best. He didn’t raise us to whore ourselves for a promotion.
Shaking off Lathe’s hand, I stood and slowly turned to face him.
“I have an idea.” I slowly jabbed him in the chest with one finger. “Why don’t you go buy a whore down in the Dives? I’m sure you can find someone willing to let you fuck her up the ass or beat her black and blue if you pay her enough. But it’s not going to be me.”
“You’ve just sealed your fate, lovely,” he said, his eyes flashing. For a moment I thought he was going to fire me, or strike me down—he was an accomplished mage—but instead he returned to his seat.
“Either you find Roche in a week, or I’ll make an example of you in front of the whole agency. You’ll be so embarrassed you won’t be able to hold your head up in public after I’m done with you.”
I planted my hands on his desk. “I’ll find Roche, all right. But make no mistake—I’m not doing it because I’m afraid of you. I’ll drag him in because he’s a pervert and a murderer.” And then, because I was my mother’s daughter as well as my father’s, I added, “So take your short, scrawny dick and get it the fuck out of my face.”
As I slammed out of his door, I knew I’d just made one of the worst enemies of my life.
As I headed out of the building, I made my way toward the Collequia. I needed help, and I knew where to get it. Jahn could scare up anyone a girl needed, including spies, wizards, and seers. Until now, I’d been avoiding asking for outside help because of the agency’s privacy policies, but fuck it. Lathe had pushed me too far.
Jahn was behind the bar, dividing packets of opium and kysa—the poor man’s version of the drug. He glanced up as I entered.
“You’re early, girl. Something wrong?”
“My prick of a boss is what’s wrong. You have anything to eat back there?” It was too early for a drink, and my stomach was rumbling.
“Nut bread and cheese okay?”
I nodded and he pulled out a wooden tray that held a loaf of nut bread and a round of cheese.
He tossed me a knife. “Help yourself. I was going to eat that for lunch but I’ll pick up something else.”
I sliced into the fragrant bread, inhaling deeply as the scent of hazelnuts rose in a wisp of steam. The cheese was soft as I sliced into it and spread it on the bread. As I took a bite, the sweetness of the nut meal drizzled down my throat.
“Good.” I licked my fingers. “Who made this? Your wife?”
Jahn shook his head. “No, she’s been living with her lover the past moon cycle. I don’t know when—or if—she’s coming back. I think she prefers dandies. He’s a tailor. I ever tell you that?”
A tailor? I couldn’t see any woman leaving Jahn for a tailor, but then again, tailors knew how to use their hands so maybe she’d been missing out on something from the club owner’s calloused hands.
“I can give you the recipe if you like,” he added.
“Cook will appreciate that,” I said, licking my fingers. “I need your help.”
He glanced up, pushing the drugs aside. “What’s going on?”
“I need to find somebody. And I need to find him as soon as possible. He’s dangerous. He was a member of the Guard till he got kicked out, and rumor has it he’s been hanging out here.” I hesitated, then added, “My job’s on the line. If I don’t find this creep, my boss will humiliate me unless I fuck him to shut him up. And that would be a far worse punishment.”
Jahn grunted and gave me a nod. “What’s the guy’s name and what did he do?”
“Roche. Roche ob Vanu. He was a member of the Des’Estar until he murdered his wife, his brother, and a few other innocents along the way. He’s gone on a ram-page. Raped five women so far, and murdered four of them. We know it’s him because his magical signature is all over the case.” I frowned, then added, “Do you have a bowl of water?”
“Yeah, hold on.” Jahn slipped into a back room and returned with a silver bowl.
I glanced around the bar. At this time of morning, it was almost empty. I pulled the bowl to me and slowly breathed on the water. The energy of the Moon Mother coiled within me as I coaxed it awake, wending its way up my spine. A river of molten silver, it spread through the cells of my body, circling the spiraling tattoo on my shoulder blade. I slowly exhaled and a sparkling mist covered the water in the bowl, settling over the top of it like a thick fog on the lake.
Jahn gave a little gasp, but said nothing.
I glanced up at him, then back at the bowl and lowered my hand toward the mist, whispering softly. “Mist of the mountain, mist of the moon, show me the face of the one whom I seek. Moon Mother, grant me the power.”
And then, the mist parted, rolling to the sides of the bowl, and there—in the water, was the face of the man I was hunting. Roche. He looked harsh, with a jagged scar over one eye that gave him a roguish look.
“Now show us his true face,” I whispered, and waved my hand again. And the face in the water shifted, taking on a cruel, vindictive leer as his inner nature rose to the surface.
Jahn took a quick step back. “He’s been in here, all right. I know that face, but I had no idea he was a member of the Guard Des’Estar. He’s a bad one.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Three nights ago. He paid for a whore—the youngest we have, but she wasn’t young enough for him and I had to stop him from beating her.” Jahn grimaced, a look of distaste on his face. “I won’t hire women who are under the age of consent.”
“You’re a good man, Jahn. And you haven’t seen him since?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been back. I spend most of my time behind the bar, not waiting tables, you know.” He stared at the face still lingering in the water. “Next time I see him, I’ll get word to you as soon as I can. You say he’s a murderer?”
“Rape, murder, torture. A lot of things you don’t want to know about,” I said. “I wish I could cast a spell of Finding, but my magic doesn’t always work right. I’m sure you’ve heard about that.”
“Yes, darlin’, I’ve heard,” Jahn said. He stopped suddenly, staring at the door. I heard it open as someone came in. “Damn it, what’s he doing back here?”
I knew who it was. Without even seeing his face, his energy swirled in ahead of him like a whirlwind. The golden man. The man with jet skin and silver hair. The Svartan. And then, without a sound, he was standing next to me, staring at the scrying bowl. He looked from it, to me, then back to it.