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I bit into another salmon-topped cracker. "These are delicious. So, anybody else seem to be on the bad side of the Rainier Puma Pride?"
She gave me a thin smile. "You might try the Loco Lobo Pack, a group of lycanthropes up from the Southwest. Wolves and pumas don't mix all that well. So, how are you getting along? Do you have plans for the holidays?"
As I launched into a vague description of what we were planning, the tension in the room slowly dissipated. Siobhan was scared stiff of the Hunters Moon Clan; that much was obvious. I chatted for a while and promised again to call her as soon as I talked to the medics working with the OIA.
When I left, the wind coming off the bay was harsh, and the smell of snow rich and vibrant to my nose. The afternoon sky glowed with a silvery light, and I felt a stab in my heart, as if an icicle had broken off the roof and plunged through me. I had no idea what was making me so afraid, but suddenly the only thing I wanted was to be safe at home, to call Zachary and tell him I couldn't take the case. But that wasn't an option, not as long as the Degath Squad might be involved.
As I hopped in my Jeep and started the engine, a tickle made me jump. A spider, just big enough to cover my little fingernail, had crawled on the top of my hand. I stared at it for a moment, then without a second thought, I smashed it flat and flicked it out the window.
"So much for you," I whispered. "If you were a spy, then you've just found out what the D'Artigo girls do to their enemies." Wiping my hand on my jeans, I eased out of the driveway onto the road. I decided that when I got home, I'd ask Iris to fumigate my Jeep.
* * *
CHAPTER 5
By the time I stopped at McDonald's for a Coke, it was almost three. I checked my messages on my cell phone. Nothing. I punched in number four on speed dial and waited until Chase picked up.
"Hey babe," he said, his voice smooth and fine. "What's going on?"
"Wanted to run a few names by you for you to check on," I said. And then, because his voice made me feel strangely comforted, I added, "I'd like to see you this afternoon, if you have time. I'm busy tonight, but I miss you."
He cleared his throat and then, with a catch in his voice, said, "I want to see you, too. The office is slow today. I can get away for an hour or two. Meet me at my place?"
"See you in half an hour, traffic willing."
Chase lived in Renton, south of Seattle, where the rents were a little cheaper and the neighborhoods a little shadier. It helped him afford the designer suits he had a penchant for. As I navigated through the confusing array of one-way streets and construction projects, I thought about our past few months together.>"May I help you?" Jill swung around, her smile infectious. She was holding a measuring tape and a piece of cloth that looked like the weaver had caught the Aurora borealis midripple.
"I'm here to pick up an outfit for Iris? Iris Kuusi." Iris used the Finnish surname that had belonged to the family to whom she'd been bound, until they all died out. She often told us stories about her days with them, usually when we were curled up near the fireplace with a big bowl of popcorn.
Jill tossed the tape on the counter along with the material. "Oh yes, she mentioned someone would be coming in today to pick it up. We've met, haven't we?" She extended her hand, and I took it, shaking lightly.
"Once, I came in with Iris when she ordered several custom-made aprons. I'm Delilah D'Artigo."
"Right! Her dress is ready to go. Hold on, and I'll be right back." She ducked into what looked like a back room the size of a closet and returned with a white box tied with a big red ribbon. A pewter unicorn charm dangled from the bow. "Here it is. Tell her to let me know if she needs any alterations. It was nice meeting you," she said, picking up the measuring tape again.
I could sense the busyness emanating off of her and picked up the box. The holidays had most people I'd met lately in a frazzle. "Have a lovely day," I said, meaning it.
"You, too," she called as I left the shop and headed out of the market.
The drive to Siobhan's condo took me right by Discovery Park, which consisted of over five hundred acres of protected meadows, thickets, and woodland situated on Magnolia Bluff. The park included two miles of shoreline designated as protected marine reserves.
Camille and I often came here to walk and think. The call of the gulls echoed along the tide flats, and it always seemed as though we could breathe easier while looking out over the bay toward the Olympic Mountains. I preferred to stay up in the woods, while Camille liked walking on the shore. The park was one big playground.
I navigated through the winding streets skirting the park, until I pulled to a stop in front of a two-story building. It had originally been a large house and was now divided into four different condominiums. Far from the chrome-and-glass towers going up around the city, Siobhan's home retained the flavor of an era gone by. The building had a homey feel, almost like a boardinghouse.
Jumping out of my Jeep, I headed toward the staircase on the right side of the building. There were two apartments on each floor, with stairs on either side of the building leading to the upper two residences.
The building needed a new paint job, that was for sure. Weathered from the winds and rain, paint flaked off the walls, but overall the place didn't look run-down so much as tired. Large shrubs and bushes surrounded the house, and ivy twined up the walls. Around back a patch of open lawn overlooked the bay.
I dashed up the stairs and knocked at a faded white door marked with the gold letters B-2. After a moment, the door opened. Siobhan stood there, tall and thin, with long black hair and pale skin. She was black Irish, and it showed. Dressed in a pale gray linen skirt and turtleneck, she reminded me of a shaft of moonlight streaming through the window on a cool autumn night.
"Hey, come in," she said, ushering me through the door. Siobhan moved like a shadow; one moment she'd be there, and the next she'd be on the other side of the room.
Her house was a reflection of her nature. Paintings of the sea, wild and foaming ocean waves, graced the walls. The sofa and love seat were a soft silver suede, and the wood gray and reminiscent of driftwood. Even the flowers she bought mirrored the colors of the ocean. All whites and pale violets with an occasional spray of pink interspersed among the roses and orchids.
"Would you care for something to eat?" she asked, holding out a tray of smoked salmon and crackers. My stomach rumbled, and I eagerly bit into an hors d'oeuvre, then wiped my mouth with a paper napkin. As we sat in the living room, overlooking the bay, I wondered how long she'd lived in the city. Earthside Fae were as long-lived as the Fae from Otherworld. Siobhan could be a hundred years old or five hundred.
"When did you first come to Seattle?" I asked, watching as the wind picked up, whipping the waves into white frenzied lines of sea foam.
