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“I didn’t want to do it, but I needed the cash. I was in debt to him, big-time. Fin’s boys will just beat me up; he would have killed me.”
“In debt? For what?”
He blinked those massive eyes at me. “You’re kidding, right? Geminus owns half the illegal fights around here. Between fey and humans, fey and fey, humans and humans—anything, really, as long as someone will pay money to see it. Or to bet on it.”
I stared at him, a few things sliding into place. Along with drugs and weapons, no-holds-barred fights were another illegal import from Faerie. Ironically, it was the sort of thing the Dark Fey, who were treated like animals by some of their light counterparts, were fleeing Faerie to try to escape. But, once here, they had few contacts and fewer choices.
The authorities shut the matches down when they stumbled across them, but it wasn’t a priority. They weren’t a factor in the war, and that was all anyone cared about right now. Or maybe there was another reason.
“You’re telling me a senator was involved in a smuggling ring?”
“Involved in it? He runs it. He’s been smuggling for longer than anybody. He started bringing people over for the fights, and then branched out. He’s into a little of everything now.”
I sat there, growing quietly furious. No wonder we’d had so much hell stopping the smugglers. Geminus must have been tipping them off to our every move. Leaving us to clean up his competition—like Vleck or Ray—while he grabbed a bigger and bigger share of the pie.
I guess he’d been telling the truth when he said he wasn’t interested in politics.
“Why did he want the rune?”
“He didn’t give me the details. But I guess so he could control the fights. Give the stone to the fighter he wanted to win, and he could determine the outcome of every bout. And clean up even more than he already does. My debts were nothing compared to that.”
“You agreed to make the switch.”
“I thought it would be easy: a little sleight of hand, and no harm done. Jókell would get his money, I would get out of hock to all the people I owe and Geminus would get off my back. But I didn’t expect to be attacked!”
“What happened?”
“I’d barely gotten in the door. Jókell had taken the rune out of its carrier and was about to hand it to me, when the door burst open and someone threw me across the room.”
“Who attacked you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see.”
“What do you mean, you didn’t see? You were right there!”
“Right there and almost unconscious. I hit the wall and all but cracked my skull open. I heard the fight going on behind me, realized something had gone wrong and knew I had to get out of there. But the only window was bricked up, and the fight was between me and the door.”
“What did you do?”
He shrugged glossy shoulders—withers—whatever. “The only thing I could do. I went through the portal into Faerie. But time’s running a little slower there, so it took me this long to get back.”
I’d said it was like he’d fallen off the face of the Earth. I just hadn’t realized it was literally true. “You didn’t see anything?”
“I glanced back just as I crawled through the portal, to see if anybody was coming after me. And I glimpsed somebody in a dark cloak. But I didn’t see the face.”
“So tell me what you did see. Was he heavyset or skinny? Tall or short? Did you see hair color?”
“I saw the back of a cloak and it had the hood up; I couldn’t tell. And you all look tall to me.” He mumbled something that sounded like “planet of mutants.”
“Scent, then—what did he smell like? Or sound—did he say anything?” At this point, I’d take what I could get.
“I don’t have senses as acute as yours, and that club was too smelly and too noisy to make much out. Besides, I don’t think he said anything.”
I regarded him in utter frustration. I had an eyewitness who hadn’t bothered to use his eyes—or anything else. Perfect.
“You knew I was dhampir before I even opened my mouth,” I reminded him. “You must have sensed something.”
“I can tell species, even under a glamourie. It’s the whole truth thing.” He waved a paw.
