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Chapter 1
Istoodovertheputrefying corpse, wrinkled my nose in distaste and thanked all that was holy that I was standing on two legs and not four. I’m pretty sure that Esme’s sensitive olfactory senses would have had me gagging at the smell of the rotting body.
‘That’s disgusting,’ I managed. ‘The body looks like it’s been here for weeks. That can’t be right, otherwise Ares would have found it sooner than this.’
Greg nodded. ‘Look at the skin. It’s grey.’
‘Yeah, so?’
‘It’s a gargoyle.’
‘You say that like it’s supposed to have some sort of significance for me.’
Greg slid me an amused glance. ‘It should. What happens to gargoyles when they are exposed to sunlight?’
‘Ah.’ Understanding dawned. When a gargoyle is touched by sunlight it turns to stone; this mass of flesh was red, bloody and covered with undulating maggots. The skin was soft and yielding. It wasn’t stone, so it hadn’t been exposed to sunlight.
‘It doesn’t feel like a good thing that someone dumped a dead gargoyle on our lawn in the middle of the night,’ I observed. I was exaggerating, as usual. It was early evening; darkness had fallen, but only just. The last patrol around the grounds had only been an hour earlier. We must have just missed the body being dumped.
Greg looked grim. ‘It’s a test or a threat, but either way – no, it’s not a good thing.’ He folded his arms and frowned at the body. Greg is our head of security, yet here we were with a dead body on our lawn and nothing had been seen on our security cameras. Greg was exuding strong pissed-off vibes, and I didn’t blame him – I wasn’t feeling all flowers and light about this, either. Not only was a poor soul dead, but someone was poking at me. Again.
I took out my phone and snapped a few photographs of the corpse – you never know when you’re going to need photographic evidence – then pocketed the phone and sighed. ‘Well, ithasbeen quiet around here. It’s been a whole month since anybody has died, so we must be due some mayhem.’
I turned to Ares. I’d been practising my piping skills with the unicorn for the last few weeks and I felt like I was finally getting a grip on them. I hummed a soft tune under my breath because music always makes it easier for me to wield my piping magic, though I had managed it with eye contact a few times. I gathered the magic within me and reached out to the unicorn’s mind.
‘Did you see anyone bring the body onto the grounds?’ I asked him.
In response, in my mind’s eye I saw a flash. Ares was running across the lawn then he skidded to a halt as he encountered a bad smell. He stopped, tracked the smell and found the corpse. He had no idea how it had come to be placed upon our lands, so he went off to patrol the grounds, affronted by something slipping past him onhisterritory.
I patted the luminescent unicorn’s shoulder. ‘Thanks, Ares.’
He whickered in response, threw back his head, then left us at a trot. His nostrils were flaring as he continued scenting for intruders.
Greg raised an eyebrow in question.
‘He found the body but he didn’t see anyone dump it,’ I explained. ‘He’s off on patrol again.’
I bit my thumb and considered my options. As alpha of the Home Counties pack, it was my call how we managed the situation. I could call the Connection – the police, judge, jury and executioner of the Other realm – or we could deal with this in-house.
Call me boastful, but we’d managed to solve the murder of one of our pack mates, Mark Oates, with relative ease. Perhaps my best friend’s skills as a private investigator have rubbed off on me through the years. My gut said that this is something we should deal with ourselves; calling the Connection felt like admitting weakness, like I was saying I couldn’t handle whatever was thrown at me.
If the gargoyle being dumped on my lawn was a test, I was pretty sure that calling the Connection would fail me straightaway – and I’m nothing if not competitive. I used to wake up having nightmares about failing tests. Success was everything to my younger self, and it still is now, even if a healthy dose of mindfulness tempers my need to succeed. Success at any cost is not a win.
I studied the body grimly. It was horrendous. If I’m honest, I was impressed that I hadn’t already thrown up.
It’s rotten,Esme muttered.Even a starving pup wouldn’t eat that flesh.I could feel her glowering in my head.It’s disrespectful,she complained.Someone wants us to know they can come and go on our lands as they please, and they dumped this wasted flesh here. It is an insult.
She was well and truly riled.It’s not all that good for the poor gargoyle, either,I pointed out.
I am sorry that its death has been wasted,she agreed. But she wasn’t upset at the death; just that no one could eat it. Wolf culture is a little different to western society.
‘Do we know who runs the local gargoyles?’ I asked Greg.
He shook his head, ‘No, but I can find out.’
I’d had relatively little contact with any gargoyles. I’ve only been a part of the Other realm for a few months and I’m still finding my feet in this crazy-ass magical realm. I’ve met all of two gargoyles so far: one was held hostage by the mysterious griffin, Ghost, who ran and operated the underground black tourneys; the other was sheltering with me from some vampyrs in a playground. Both had struck me as being quite fair individuals, albeit they swore worse than a sailor on leave.
‘Okay, find out and give me their number. We’ve got a few hours of night left, but the gargoyles will probably want to move the body before it turns to stone. They can deal with the body how they wish. Esme and I are going to have a sniff around.’
