• Detective Inspector for Scotland Yard, Charing Cross Station. Winter Council Lackey.
Avery huffed through her nose. “We will see.”
Where Avery deliberately limited the information she gave to others, Detective Lahiri volunteered his unprompted. “Leigh and I just had a daughter last winter. We want to make sure the world she’s coming into won’t be actively trying to push her out—from either side. Your return feels like a step in the right direction.”
Another changeling. This gave deeper meaning to his surprise at her introduction. “Hemlock” in the old days was often spat in the direction ofany mortal/fey progeny. Humans weakened fey bloodlines. Immortality was one of the first traits to wane with each added mortal generation. Mortality, much like hemlock, was a fatal poison with no true antidote. “You believe that, even knowing what I’d done?”
“There is a saying people are always quoting, but I do believe for you it fits. The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
There was a blatant sense of support in his words. Support from an absolute stranger for actions that she herself had often questioned. “Who are they quoting?”
Lahiri shrugged. “No one knows—it’s one of those sayings everyone thinks someone else said.13 Anyway, my wife and I thought if we helped you out, maybe by the time River is grown she won’t have to make a choice between which world she wants to live in. Perhaps we’ll have reached something better.”
It was the kind of consideration any former neglected child would have envied, but, Avery distracted herself by testing the texture of the floor with her shoes. “What is this?”
“It’s called linoleum. After your time, right? You must be seeing a lot of that sort of thing since you woke. I imagine it’s pretty strange, eh?”
“Curious,” Avery corrected, gently. “What’s it made of?”
“No idea. I just know that it’s biodegradable, per the Green Agreement of the UN.”
“The UN?”
Lahiri snapped in realization. “Right, you wouldn’t know about that yet. When did you go under, exactly?”
“1837,” Avery answered distractedly. “Just after Christmas.”
He let out a low whistle. “That’s going to be a lot of catching up, eh? Well, consider me your guide. The UN—the United Nations—is a worldwidecouncil made up of representatives from every country. Well, more or less; it gets complicated with some of the larger continents. I’ve never been much for politics. The Green Agreement is a series of laws that boil down to basically we as a planet agreed not to murder the Earth to the best of our ability. It governs means of production, products themselves, energy conservation, gathering—a lot. You will probably want to read up on both of those at some point, but those are the basics.”
Avery couldn’t decide if it was more strange that such an agreement had to be made into law or that every nation had agreed to it. “And biodegradable, from the roots, I assume means something along the lines of degrading through…life? Like decomposition?”
“More or less—it means something can be broken down into its basic substances through normal environmental processes.” Lahiri paused at the door. “Speaking of environmental processes… Considering it’s been some time since you’ve dealt with a body in decomp, I’d steel yourself.”
Avery waved her hand a little dismissively. “Mental preparation won’t do my nostrils any favors.”
“Suit yourself.” Lahiri opened the door with flair. “Examination Room 5. Body has been prepped for you. Tools available as needed, and a copy of the victim’s medical file.”
Avery’s eyes briefly slid to the interior. The room was small and cold. It was lit brightly but in a way that somehow made her shiver. It reminded her of a cell. “Coroner’s report?”
“Included. One of our own did the most recent notes.”
Avery stepped inside and immediately regretted it. “Fates, what is that horrible smell?”
“I did warn you,” Lahiri answered.
“Is it no longer part of the procedure to clean the corpse?” Avery asked incredulously. “It smells as if someone tried to make beer out of vomit in here.”
“They cleaned it,” Lahiri assured. “Scent persisted.”
It made her eyes water. She attempted to breathe through her mouth,but that only made her taste it. Spiced, almost earthy, stinging, and aggressively pungent. She peered at the body of the young woman, pulling an embroidered white handkerchief from her pocket to hold it over her nose. The perfume had long dissipated from the fabric, but even the slightly dusty aroma was a thankful change.
The victim was lean, but not particularly muscular, covered in bruises from the crash and a line of stitches across her forehead from the autopsy. Short hair, cropped just beneath the chin, red. Strong features—high angular cheekbones, a Roman nose, skin accustomed to easy tanning with an olive undertone. She had the remnants of a tan line of a garment secured around the back of her neck. She’d been somewhere sunny in the last week or so.
That’s when Avery noticed the source of the scent. A small metal bowl next to the body, typically reserved for holding the brain when removed for examination, held what could only be described as a murky slop with twigs and weeds sticking out of it. Closer inspection revealed that the twigs in the murky water were bits of straw. As for the weeds, they appeared to be possibly sage, a reddish-brown sludge that had begun to separate, a few slimy green half-moon-shaped leaves stuck to three pistachio-like seeds, and what appeared to be mint—though decomposition of the leaves made it rather impossible to guess from visual evidence alone.
Bewildered, Avery reached for the file, skimming through it.
Valentina LaRosa | Human, Age: 28 (Victim)
