The Orange Cat & other Cainsville tales (13 page)

“Right,” I said. “Like the Cŵn Annwn or the hounds or the ravens, they’re another part of Arawn’s domain. Fae in his service. Which should mean he’s not in danger from the gwragedd.”

“Incorrect. Is he still there?”

“Yes.”

“Put me on speaker. This is important.”

I did, and Gabriel explained as we walked. At one time, yes, the gwragedd guarded the portals between the worlds and transported souls the Cŵn Annwn claimed. In that respect, they bore some resemblance to Norse Valkyrie. But once the Cŵn Annwn and other fae began being pushed out of Wales, they emigrated along with humans, seeking their own new frontiers. Yet the Cŵn Annwn couldn’t just dig new portals to their Otherworld. Sometimes they found one and settled near it. Other times that wasn’t an option, and what they discovered was that they didn’t absolutely need that portal. Souls would pass over to the afterlife without a physical passageway . . . and without the gwragedd to escort them. Which meant that the gwragedd became the elevator operators of the Welsh fae world, rendered obsolete by modern automation. Some Cŵn Annwn retained their gwragedd, just as some buildings might keep an elevator operator, for nostalgia primarily but also serving new functions. In most cases, though, the Cŵn Annwn turned to the gwragedd and said, “You’re free.”

You are relieved of your obligations. Go, and reinvent yourselves.

Some certainly did, but others were like humans told their services were no longer required—they didn’t want to move on. They longed for their old jobs and their old purpose.

That was why Arawn had warned Ricky against letting this particular gwragedd know who he was. He’d been right to do so, as I knew from seeing that hunger in the fae’s eyes. She was the lowly elevator operator grieving for her lost life. Arawn was the CEO of the corporation, the one person who could get her old job back. At best, she’d wheedle and plead and make Ricky feel like a shit-heel for walking away. At worst, she wouldn’t let him walk away.

“So, I’m thinking we shouldn’t go back for a swim,” Ricky said after Gabriel explained.

“Absolutely not,” Gabriel said. “Do not go near that swimming hole. Do not interact with the gwragedd in any way. Do not let her even suspect you might not be fully human, let alone connected to Arawn.”

Ricky and I looked at each other. A moment of silence. Then Gabriel said, carefully, “Where are you?” as if he already knew the answer.

“We’re leaving,” I said.

“I hope that means you are leaving the area completely, having decided to spend the night in another town, as far from that swimming hole as possible.”

“We’re leaving the, uh, swimming hole,” I said.

“Having
not
encountered the gwragedd while you were there.”

Silence.

“Having encountered the gwragedd, who failed to realize you were anything more than human.”

Silence.

“Olivia . . .”

“Yeah,” Ricky said. “We chatted with her. She knows we realize she’s fae. She did suspect I was Arawn—”

“
What
?”

“I played dumb. I’m good at it.”

“Not nearly as good as you think you are, Ricky. I’ve seen the performance. It is unlikely to fool anyone who isn’t already convinced of its veracity based on physical appearance. In other words, it is not going to convince an ancient fae who suspects you are the incarnation of her long-dead Lord.”

“I wouldn’t say
incarnation
.”

Gabriel’s voice chilled. “My point—”

“—is that we’re leaving,” I cut in. “We can see the bike. The gwragedd didn’t follow us. She was just glad we didn’t take her puppy.”

“Puppy?”

“We thought it was a baby. Long story. Point is, she just wanted to see the backs of us, and she really did seem to think she was wrong about Ricky. We’ll be leaving town in the morning. I just need to—”

“I would ask that you leave tonight. I understand it is late, but I have compiled a list of lodgings over an hour away. I will inquire and book if that is helpful. I have also checked flights from Chicago to Halifax.”

“To do what?”

“Come out there, of course. If this gwragedd realizes what you both represent, Patrick suggests she could target you, Olivia, as a way of getting Ricky’s attention.”

“You can’t come here. You don’t have a passport.”

“I’m sure my driver’s license would suffice. It’s only Canada. They hardly need to worry about terrorists invading from the US. That would be rather pointless.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Ricky said. “You do need a passport. It’s not terrorists they’re worried about. Just Americans in general, I think.”

“Hey, I couldn’t bring my gun,” I said.

A pause. “You don’t have your gun?”

“It’s Canada. They frown on that.”

“Please tell me you have your knife.”

“Switchblades are illegal here, too, and as someone who plans to get her PI license, I can’t have a cross-border weapons offense on my record. So no, I couldn’t bring my gun or my switchblade but—”

“But you know what she did bring?” Ricky said. “Me.”

Silence, the heaviness of it as thick as Maritime fog.

“I didn’t mean to imply—” Gabriel began.

“Then don’t. I never underestimate the danger to Liv. Never.”

“Yes, I know. I simply—”

“You’re thinking of the psych hospital last month. Where I lost her.”

“Temporarily misplaced,” I said, my voice light, trying to lift the mood.

“I was not implying—” Gabriel began.

“Yeah, you were,” Ricky said. “But if you’re going to swing that low, Gabriel, let me remind you of who went to that hospital with her. And who didn’t because he was being a jackass, ignoring her calls, ignoring my attempts to make peace, ignoring
us
.”

Ricky stopped and winced, rubbing the back of his neck as he mouthed an apology for turning this into a confrontation. I also knew why Gabriel offered to fly out here, which was preposterous and very un-Gabriel. He was falling over himself to make up for what he’d done, and that itself was awkward. The more he overcompensated for his mistake, the more I felt like a bitch for being upset.

I wasn’t holding a grudge because Gabriel had ignored my messages. It was the rejection that hurt. I’d said we were friends, and he’d laughed, a mocking snort of a laugh that I could still hear. Over and over I heard it. Over and over I felt it.

I don’t hold a grudge for that either. I just don’t dare return to the kind of relationship where he can hurt me that badly. So when Ricky snapped at Gabriel, I felt a little bit vindicated. As if I wasn’t such a fool for feeling hurt, because Ricky did too, and I’d never think less of him for it.

And what did Gabriel do? Just silently waited for Ricky to be done.

“We aren’t pushing on tonight,” I said. “We’re fine, and I appreciate everything you’ve done but—”

“Is it because I
asked
you to push on?” Gabriel said.

Ricky opened his mouth to answer, but I beat him to it.

“No, Gabriel. Shockingly, we aren’t going to endanger our lives to spite you.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Doesn’t seem to be any other way to mean that. We aren’t staying to spite you. We aren’t staying because it’s convenient. We aren’t staying because we’re tired. I mentioned a baby. A local overheard Ricky and me talking about me being an investigator, and he told a nineteen-year-old girl whose baby has disappeared. No, I did not agree to take the job. I’m not qualified for that. But we had reason to believe this fae might have taken the baby, which is why I asked you to investigate that part. We now know the gwragedd did not take her. So I need to wait until morning to tell this girl that I can’t help. It’s the decent thing to do.”

“A missing child is a tragedy but—”

“Stop.”

“—this girl cannot expect you to waste your vacation—”

“Stop.”

“—and if you do feel obligated, a note would suffice.” His tone added,
Though I can’t imagine why you would feel obligated.

Ricky rolled his eyes. “We’re leaving in the morning, Gabriel. We’re at the bike now and heading straight to the inn and then straight out in the morning. We’ll lock our door and bolt the shutters. Now, as Liv said, thank you. Thank Patrick for us, too. We’ll talk later.”

Twelve – Liv

Back at the inn, we sat out on our balcony with a six-pack we’d grabbed earlier, and we drank and talked. Talked about what we’d found. Talked about our plans to deal with the baby issue. Talked about where we’d go when we left tomorrow. Talked about everything that was not related to Gabriel or the problems we’d left in Chicago and Cainsville. Those stayed firmly in the box of stuff we’d deal with later. This was our vacation. Or as close to one as we could manage.

The next morning, we played. Kissing in bed. Teasing. Showering. Using the shower to test that cold-water theory. Wonderfully distracting. Then I was downstairs getting breakfast while Ricky finished up in the room. And I don’t mean the fun kind of “finishing up” either. I’d have stuck around for that.

After the shower experimentation, I
had
offered him an exception, as I did in the swimming hole. There’s a limit to my teasing, and it falls short of leaving a guy hanging, much as I’d expect him not to leave me in the same predicament. I’d gotten a yes.
A hell, yes.
Then his phone rang and provided exactly the momentary distraction he’d needed to collect himself and decide to pass on the exemption, damn him.

The problem with Ricky passing on exemptions? I couldn’t claim reciprocal ones, which meant I might—horrors—be the first to fold. Which was very vexing, even if he had provided a nice incentive. An extremely nice incentive that I was trying very hard not to think about, instead gathering breakfast while Ricky finished his call upstairs.

I was getting a second serving of smoked salmon when I heard Hildy outside the otherwise-empty dining room.

“Don’t you talk that way to me, Owen Parr. I know you’re going through a rough time, but that doesn’t give you any right to talk like that. Or to come barging in here, demanding to see one of my guests.”

Owen Parr. Maggie’s father.

I took a deep breath. Maybe this was the way to do it. Cowardly, yes, avoiding facing Krista herself. But I couldn’t help her and wasn’t particularly looking forward to telling her so. Owen might be easier.

I walked into the front room. “Are you looking for me?”

The guy with Hildy was exactly what I’d have expected. A decent-looking young man in an auto-body shop T-shirt with a streak of grease on his jaw. The set of that jaw suggested someone wasn’t very happy about Krista coming to me. Probably thinking I was some shady American taking advantage. That would make this much easier.

“You the PI?” he said, barely unhinging his jaw.

“Not exactly, but I’m the person you’re looking for. Let’s step outside and talk.” I turned to Hildy. “When Ricky comes down, can you tell him I’ll be right back, and he should grab some salmon before I finish it all?”

She nodded, but her eyes stayed worried as she watched us go. “You watch yourself, Owen Parr,” she called. “You don’t want your momma knowing you stormed in here to pester my guests.”

As the back door closed behind us, I said, “Gotta love that about small-town living. No threat worse than telling your mom, whether you’re ten, twenty or fifty years old.”

Owen wheeled on me. “I want the money Krista gave you.”

“First,” I said. “It’s Krista’s money, not yours. But second, and more importantly, I didn’t take a dime from her. As I’m sure you heard, she tried to hire me to find your daughter. I said I’d check a few things. I didn’t accept money to do it.”

“Because you’re going to come back and make her think you’ve got a lead, and then she’ll give you the money . . . right before you skip town with her savings.”

“No, I was going to tell her—”

Owen cut me short as he advanced. “Save the bullshit. I’m not some dumb hick, and I’m not going to let you con Krista out of her money.”

“I have no intention—”

He took another step, looming over me. “I’m giving you thirty minutes to leave town.”

“Excuse me?”

His face came down to mine. “You heard me. If you and that boyfriend aren’t past the town limits in thirty minutes—”

The back door banged open. Owen saw Ricky and jumped back, hands clenching into fists. Ricky just strolled out, coffee cup in hand. He looked over, saw us and took a sip before saying, “Everything okay?”

Owen snorted, and with that snort, he dismissed Ricky. Sure, he was as big as Owen, with well-muscled biceps peeking from under his T-shirt sleeves. Even the ink on those arms didn’t mean shit. Just a city boy who’s never hit anything scarier than a punching bag at his overpriced gym.

“Everything okay?” Ricky asked again before taking another sip of his coffee.

“Everything’s fine,” I said.

“You coming in soon? Hildy brought out freshly baked scones.”

“I’m good. You go enjoy.”

Ricky looked at Owen. “You want a scone? They smell great.”

Owen’s broad face screwed up. “No, I don’t want a
scone
.”

Ricky shrugged. “Your loss.” He looked at me. “You expecting this to take much longer? I could save you one.”

Owen strode over to him. “How about
you
just eat a fucking scone yourself. We’re busy.”

“I was just asking—”

“I don’t want a scone. She doesn’t want a scone. Go eat a scone and check your stocks or whatever your sort do.”

“My sort?”

“The sort that rides a fucking Harley because he thinks it’ll make him look badass. Did your daddy buy you that bike?”

“Actually, yes. When I joined the family business.”

“You work for your daddy?” Owen sneered. “Figures.”

I was about to point out that Owen worked for
his
father, but Ricky said, “Just part-time. I’m still a student. MBA. So I can take over the business one day, manage the stocks or whatever my sort do.”

“Well, you know what your sort don’t do? Look after their shit. They park a fancy bike like that where anyone can get to it.”

“True.”

“And they leave their fancy girlfriends where anyone can get to
them
while they go eat a fucking scone.”