“Just to clarify,” Adam said, because you always were careful about assuming things with the fae. “You cannot sense an artifact here?”
“I didn’t say that,” Liam temporized. “But I am certain that I cannot sense the one taken from Hrímnir. This is the only one I have felt arrive here in the last month.” He bent down and felt along the floor beside his chair.
I wasn’t surprised when he handed me the walking stick. It was icy cold when I touched it, but quickly warmed to its usual temperature. The carved gray wood felt right as I closed my fingers around it, as if the size not only fit my hands, but that my hands were whole and complete when they held the stick.
Disconcerted, I set it on my lap. It felt ruffled and protective. Had it been a dog, it would have been growling at Liam. I shouldn’t be able to know that.
“What else are you certain of?” I asked.
“There are no magical items of any kind in the possession of the bride’s party—outside of the vampire, if you are one of those who would consider her an object rather than a person,” Liam said.
“What about the people?” I asked. “Someone who knows my brother well enough he’d trust them with an artifact.”
Liam pursed his lips thoughtfully. “There’s just the three of us who know Gary. Hugo has been here since the storm began. He usually goes home at night—he has a place a few miles down the road, I understand. But he said he’d stay here to help.”
“Hugo—the gardener?” I asked.
Liam laughed. “Yes. He holds sway over our greenhouse. He and Gary do get on together.” He paused. “But Hugo is forgetful, the dear man. He is forever leaving things—I found a hoe in the lobby yesterday, and a bucket of fertilizer out by the hot tubs.” He frowned as if he didn’t want to say this part. “He’s a little simple, I think. I wouldn’t entrust him with something I didn’t want to have left in the hallway. And I wouldn’t put him in that kind of danger—and I don’t think that Gary would, either.”
Liam looked at Adam, then nodded in agreement to something he read in my husband’s face. “But I’ll ask him. Please don’t do it yourselves. I can manage without bullying him, and I can tell if he lies to me.”
“What about the girl—Emily?” Adam asked, then added, “I wouldn’t leave her alone somewhere Heddar could find her. He reminded me of a cat playing with a mouse downstairs at breakfast.”
Liam looked unhappy. “Noted. I like to work the young ones in pairs when I can.” He sighed. “At any rate, Emily. Well. I will ask her, too. But I just don’t see it.”
“If not your people, it has to be the guests,” Adam said.
Liam relaxed a little. “Are you sure it was Gary who stole the artifact?”
“Hrímnir is,” I said.
“No,” Adam answered at the same time, but added, “Probably.”
“Gary barely exchanged a word with any of the wedding guests,” Liam observed. “I think that you are on the mark to be suspicious of the hikers. I don’t know them; they aren’t local. But that doesn’t mean Gary didn’t. Maybe they were working together.”
“It’s not them,” I said at the same time Adam said, “I agree.”
My mate turned to look at me.
“What?” I said. “It isn’t them. They said they hadn’t stolen an artifact, and they weren’t lying.”
Adam nodded. “They did say that. But if Gary stole it, he could have given it to them to keep safe. If he didn’t—a goblin might not see liberating an artifact from Hrímnir as stealing.”
“They weren’t afraid,” I said. “The thought of Charles made them freeze in terror—and they weren’t worried about the creature who was capable of causing a storm like this. I think that if they had the artifact, they’d have been more afraid of Hrímnir.”
“They weren’t afraid of saying ‘thank you’ to someone like Liam,” Adam observed.
“Goblins, eh,” said Liam. “They aren’t powerful—but there are a lot of them and they work together. More now, since Larry has taken the throne. He has turned his horde of misfits into an army. I don’t know any fae except perhaps a Gray Lord who would take advantage of a ‘thank you’ given by a goblin in the past decade.” He shook his head and smiled with genuine amusement. “And the little pests know it.”
Larry really was the king of the goblins, then. Not just the ones in the Tri-Cities.
Adam wasn’t distracted by thoughts of a goblin monarchy. “So a ‘thank you’ is—
“A way of thumbing their noses at the powerful fae,” said Liam, a hint of amusement in his voice that faded as he continued. “But Charles is not a Gray Lord or a capricious Power. Charles is the hand of judgment. He is not spiteful or wicked. If Charles comes for a goblin, the goblin king would not stand in his way. He will tell his people that justice has been done. They have a reason to fear Charles—assuming they’ve done something to offend him.”
Or planned to, I thought, remembering the way the goblins had sounded about Bran’s presumed hoard of fae artifacts. Aspen Creek, the Marrok’s pack’s territory, was not too far from here. Maybe the goblins had been thinking about robbing someone who was not a frost giant.
“I cannot check their rooms,” Liam said. “They came here as refugees. The spirit of Looking Glass protects them.”
“I don’t think it’s them,” I said stubbornly.
“Can you look in the other people’s rooms?” Adam asked.
Liam nodded. “Maybe I will organize some work parties this afternoon. We need to clear out some of this snow. I doubt the Heddars will participate—but I can look in their rooms at dinner.”
“This could be a very long storm,” Adam said, getting to his feet and pulling me to mine.
Liam frowned and nodded. Then he walked to the door and opened it for us to exit. Something creaked over our heads.
“I’ll clear the roof while the rest of them are shoveling snow,” Adam offered as he led the way out the door.
I’d been reexamining what we knew. I had much better questions than I’d had last night, and I knew who I wanted to ask about them.
“Unless you need me to shovel snow,” I said, “I think I’d better check on Gary’s horses.”
“Hrímnir is taking care of them,” Adam said.
“But it’s not his job, is it?” I said. “It’s Gary’s, and that means it’s mine.”
“If you’re going up to the ranch, could you check and see if Gary has any eggs?” Liam asked, bringing up the rear. “He was using the kitchen in the main building because he preferred to cook on the gas stove. I have enough for a couple of days, but I’d be happier with another dozen.”
“Eggs,” said Adam with a frown.
“If I don’t come home, check for me in Italy,” I told him. He didn’t look like he thought I was funny.
As the crow flies, the ranch was about three miles from the lodge. On four feet it took me about forty minutes to make the trip. The snow had lightened up, probably because it was well below zero out. The winds cut through my coyote winter coat, so I stuck to the wooded areas where the trees blocked some of it.
I’d carried Adam’s pack because mine wasn’t big enough to stuff my winter coat in. The straps took a bit of jury-rigging—Adam’s wolf is over two hundred pounds, and my coyote is around thirty-five. But when Adam was finished, it was secure and I could still wiggle out when I wanted to change.
The barn door was closed tight and it had a round door handle, so I had to become human to get in the barn. It was a good thing that years of knowing our foul-mouthed British wolf had expanded my vocabulary of power words. They lasted me until I was able to shut the door behind me.