“I apologize for the detective’s assertiveness, Draegan, but you must understand—”
“Oh, Idounderstand. I understand you need to get your house in order and stop sending the dogs after your so-called allies. Now, as relieved as I was to hear no one was hurt during the fire, I have oneveryimportant concern.” Taking a page out of Westlyn’s playbook on dramatics, I unleash a put-upon sigh. “Pleasetell me the Cerridwen Codex was tucked away at an offsite location and is not currently a pile of ashes.”
It’s what he’d expect me to care about, after all. Despite the pleasantries we’ve exchanged over these past several weeks, we both know our relationship isn’t based on anything genuine. Just a mutual desire for power obtained by any means necessary.
It’s a long moment before he answers, his breath heavy on the other end. I can practically hear the gears of his mind whirring, weighing how much he should reveal to me.
When he finally speaks again, his voice is strained. “The Codex is gone, Draegan.”
Really? You don’t say…
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble. “Isanyof it salvageable? Have you consulted a restoration specialist? Fire damage can occasionally be reversed with—”
“It wasn’t destroyed by the fire.”
“But… I don’t understand. You just said it was gone.”
“Draegan,” he snaps, and apparently the old man just found his balls again, because the next thing out of his mouth is, “WhatIdon’t understand is why you’re troubling me after I just lost my home and a great many valuable artifacts under suspicious circumstances. Now, I’m sorry Reedsy has it out for you, but that’s between the two of you. I’ve got my own problems to deal with—getting my house in order, as you’ve just socompassionatelyreminded me.” His ire fades into a scoff. “Honestly, Draegan. Why are you so damned fixated on this random book?”
“Because it isn’t just a random book, Lennon. It’s part of our legacy as fae.Ours, not yours. Not Celine’s. Not the shadow magic society’s. It’s a fae treasure that never should have come to you in the first place.”
“You knew of my interest in fae culture. You encouraged—”
“Iindulged, merely out of respect for what I thought was the start of a mutually beneficial alliance between our organizations and between you and me as individuals. But truthfully, your obsession with my people is shameful and appropriative, and it’s—”
“I paid top dollar for that Codex! It’s mine by rights!”
“You paid for it, yes. And now you’re grieving its loss as a unique and valuable score—something to brag about to your fellow mages. ButI’mgrieving it as a piece of my family’s legacy—a legacy that’s fading all-too-quickly from the collective memory. So forgive me if I’m not as sensitive to your plight as you’d like, but I’d appreciate a bit of sensitivity on your end, too. A modicum of cultural awareness wouldn’t hurt, either.”
“Awareness?” He scoffs again. “I’mquiteaware, thank you very much. Aware that you and your fae partners think you’re better than the rest of us, looking down from atop your high tower in Manhattan… Preposterous.”
“A bit hard to look down on you when you and your shadow mages are looking down from the same heights.”
“You havenoidea the pressure I’m under, Draegan. Not only are Celine and I dealing with this fire, but we still haven’t located my future daughter-in-laworher parents. Hunter is just beside himself with worry. Beside himself!”
I’m grateful I made the call from the privacy of my office, because while I can volley personal insults with the man all night, the moment he mentions Westlyn, all bets are off. My protective instincts kick in hard, fury shattering my glamour and shuddering through my wings.
Yes, I’m sure Hunter-slash-Zorakkov was downrightinconsolablewhen your mage lackey tried to kidnap her from the restaurant, you vile filth…
“I’m… sorry for your family troubles,” I manage, my jaw aching from how tightly I’m clenching it, “but the Codex is still my primary concern. You claim it didn’t burn in the fire—fine. What the hell happened to it?”
“Someone stole it, Draegan,” he says, exhaustion finally chasing the indignation from his tone. “That’swhat happened to it. All that time Celine and I spent tracking it down, all that money… Now it’s just gone. What a waste.”
“Are you certain it was taken?”
“My entire library was destroyed,” he says. “The fire department confirmed the bulk of the damage happened before the fire began. It was clearly an act of vandalism and thievery. Several important artifacts and texts seem to be missing, though we haven’t been able to do a full reckoning on account of the damage—the third floor is too unstable.”
Forcing a note of hope into my voice, I say, “So there’s a chance the Codex is still there?”
“No. It’s definitely gone. The book had certain… energetic markers. The moment we returned to the brownstone after the fire, I could sense its absence.”
“But not its new location?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
I let out a string of curses for his benefit, making a mental note to tell Rook about these energetic markers. I have no idea if Lennon’s referring to the same sorts of things Rook and Westlyn are experiencing in the book’s presence—headaches, electrical jolts—or if it’s something more akin to an aftermarket mage security feature, but the last thing we need is Forsythe tracking it to the manor on account of some magical homing device we all overlooked.
“So the thief stole your artifacts,” I say, “then what? Burned the evidence?”
