“So if there were no records, how’d you find out who bought it?”
“A stroke of luck, that,” Finlay said. “My parents live in Edinburgh, in the Seelie community on the far side of town. I still come back to visit them from time to time.”
“Do they know where we are?” I asked, my voice a low growl.
“Keep your trousers on. They know I’ve fled Malovia, but I haven’t told them where I’ve gone, and they know why I can’t say.” Finlay poked his head around a corner. “I was stopping in for a moment last weekend, to tell them Vara had died. They gave condolences… Da put down the paper to give me a hug, and sure as shite right on the back page was an advertisement posted by a man named Septius Squalum.”
“I don’t follow.”
“The ad described an elusive necklace for sale. I couldn’t believe my eyes— right on the back of the local news was a black-and-white picture of the Unseelie stone.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. I believe the gods must be on our side, because I saw that photograph at just the right time,” Finlay said. “The advertisement said the necklace was for sale at a pawn shop in the shady part of town. I reckon it’s still there.”
“How well have you studied this individual?” If he sold black market goods, he could be dangerous.
“I don’t know much about Septius, other than he’s a warlock— a necromancer, to be exact. But if we confront him, I don’t think we have to worry about backlash from the Miriamic Coven. They exiled him years ago, for crimes that are too gruesome to go on about when we’re short on time.”
Witches were hardly a fae’s favorite topic, but I really didn’t like the ones who dabbled in death magic. Necromancers were nothing to toy with.
“Do you think he knows what he has?” I asked.
“Naw,” Finlay said. “Hardly be trying to sell it in the paper if he did.”
“And how can you be sure he’ll sell it to us?”
“He’d sell his own mother for the right price,” Finlay said distastefully. “See, from what I could tell, Septius fled to Darke Island the moment he got his hands on the necklace. He’s lived on Darke Island for a long time, has a shop in Shade Hills that’s still running calledCursed Collectibles. But here’s the odd thing… a couple weeks passed with the stone in his possession, before he camebackto Edinburgh. With the necklace in tow, I should say.”
“Why would he do that? Darke Island’s neutral territory for all supernaturals.” No one group owned it, and since the supernatural world’s prisons were based on the island, it’d mostly become a place for the outcasts, criminals, and degenerates of the magical world to gather. If this individual was peddling contraband objects in a place where it wasn’t illegal to do so, why would he return here?
“Beats me.” Finlay gave a shrug. “We can ask him questions once we get what we’re after. Come on.”
Finlay opened the door to a shop on a very shady-looking side street. We went in. It surprised me that the store was open this late at night… but then again, this man was obviously dealing in things no upstanding members of society wanted to be involved in.
My suspicions mounted as I observed the shelves. This wasn’t your average pawn shop. Bones of werewolves and horns of alicorns were placed beside jarred griffin eyes and dragon claws. A dried mermaid tail was on display, alongside vampire fangs and… I realized with horror… a leather purse made out of Elementai skin.
A shiver rolled over my spine as I saw there werefae wingsfor sale. They were pegged to a board behind a glass case, in the same way you’d mount dead insects. I felt sorry for the poor sorceress who’d had her wings removed to make a decoration for sick bastards like this guy.
Oh, yeah. If the Union ever came in here, Septius would be arrested on the spot. So why hadn’t he remained on Darke Island, where he could get away with this sort of thing?
Behind the counter was a balding man. He had sagging, wrinkled skin, and a toothless mouth that curled my insides. His clothes were clearly dirty. I don’t think he’d washed in days— I could smell him from here, and his scent was identical to the corpses the necromancer no doubt played with. A parrot sat on the man’s shoulder, squawking obscenities and flapping its wings.
That had to be Septius. I’d never seen a person so unjarring.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Septius said in a croaking voice. “You look like a couple of boys who know how to have fun. What’s your interest? Powdered wyvern eggs? Flesh-eating slugs? I can assure you, I have it all.”
I wanted to deck him immediately, just get right to the brawling, but Finlay was more diplomatic than I was willing to be. He leaned on the counter and said, “Saw your ad in the paper.”
The man’s gum smile instantly dissolved. “Sorry. I parted with that necklace some days ago.”
Internally, I wanted to scream, but Finlay remained cool. “Where?”
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” Septius replied. “I’m afraid you must leave. The shop is closed for the evening.”
“We need to find that necklace. We’ll pay any price,” Finlay insisted.
“That isn’t the issue,” Septius hastened to explain. He’d noticed I was getting angry, and licked his lips anxiously. “You see… I can’t recall where it might’ve went.”
