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I didn’t reply but, just for a moment, my gaze misted. I hadn’t truly grieved for Mom yet and was utterly determined not to until we caught her killers. But every now and again, a gentle comment had all the pain and sorrow rising.
“I take it you’ve people out front as well as the three down the lane?” Cynwrig said.
“Yes, so unless they left the minute they triggered the alarm, they have to be in there.”
“Vincentia would have passed on the information about the alarm on the stair door,” I said, quickly punching in the code. “She did, after all, trigger it herself.”
“Yes, but let’s be honest here,” Sgott said. “The Looisearch haven’t always employed the sharpest tools in the shed, and this break-in would have been hastily arranged if you’ve only just arrived back in town.”
“None of which changes the very low odds of someone remaining inside.” Amusement gleamed in Cynwrig’s smoky eyes. “Trust me, any thief worth his salt would not only have a lookout stationed nearby but also a means of escaping if all the main exits are compromised.”
“Speaking from experience again, I see.”
I carefully pushed the door open. Wood song immediately greeted me but there was nothing in its music to suggest anyone or anything moved through the building. But there was a thread of pain running along the outer edges of the song, suggesting damage done to the wood somewhere within. It didn’t take a whole lot of brain power to guess where.
There was also a slightly heavier cadence coming from the very top of the building. Something lay on the floor up there and it wasn’t moving.
“Not anymore,” Cynwrig was saying, “I gave up thievery ages ago.”
“The family, however, has not,” Sgott said dryly.
I smiled and moved quickly down the hall, not bothering to check the storage or bathrooms simply because the floorboards would have sung a different tune if anyone waited within. Coals still glowed in the hearth in the main room, providing enough light to see by. The freestanding chairs had all been placed upside-down on the tables so that the floors could be washed, and they cast crazy shadows through the otherwise empty room.
I paused near the stairs, unzipped my boots, and then padded up barefoot. This middle floor was darker, the fire having died down quicker and the streetlights barely illuminated the row—which was basically a series of first-floor covered walkways linking all the buildings in this street—let alone this inner section. Still, the room was obviously empty, and that was decidedly odd. Surely, as Cynwrig had already noted, a sensible thief would have lookouts, and not just outside.
I led the way around to the stairs leading up to my floor, the sharpening thread of pain that ran through the wood song telling me what had happened long before I actually saw the damage. The intruder had ripped the security door off its hinges and torn the frame in the process. I resisted the urge to heal it immediately and glanced back at Sgott and Cynwrig.
“I’m not feeling any movement, but there’s an unidentified weight upstairs.” I hesitated, cocking my head as I moved deeper into the cadence of the song, sorting through the various strands until I found an exact location. My stomach clenched. “It’s in the loft.”
“The loft?” Disbelief vibrated through Sgott’s voice. “How the fuck did anyone spot the ladder release?”
“They wouldn’t. Not without being told what to look for, anyway.”
Andthatmeant someone we knew—perhaps a friend of Mom’s or Gran’s—had shared the information. Or, more likely, had had the information forced out of them. The Looisearch certainly weren’t averse to violence, that was for sure.
Sgott motioned me to one side. I obeyed, and he drew his gun, lightly and swiftly moving up the stairs. They didn’t creak under his weight, but only because multiple generations of pixies had ensured they never suffered the shrinkage that wear, tear, and constant use caused over time.
Unless, of course, we actuallywantedthem to creak as a form of advance warning. I’d certainly done that more than a few times over the years, especially after Mom had disappeared six months ago.
I followed him up, Cynwrig two steps behind me. The living room was silent and the air cool, despite the coals that still glowed in the hearth. Sgott drew in a deeper breath, his nostrils flaring slightly, then pointed his chin toward the rear of the building and held up one finger.
One person.
Whether that person was intending to ambush us, was unconscious, or even dead was now the question needing an answer. I personally doubted the former would happen. No one, no matter how trained, could remaincompletelystill for extended periods of time. They would have at least made some small adjustments as we’d entered the building, because despite our best efforts, neither Sgott nor I could walk as silently as an elf.
Sgott moved on. Cynwrig remained at the top of the stairs, but I followed, my bare feet warmed by the heat retained in the floorboards. The knives remained inert, which at least meant whatever the hell waited for us wasn’t offering any sort of magical threat.
That didn’t discount the possibility of some other kind of threat, of course.
The loft ladder was down.
Fuck.
Sgott stopped and looked up. There was no sound of movement and no indication that anyone other than that unmoving weight was up there, and its location hadn’t changed.
Sgott motioned to me and then to the ladder. I nodded. The loft entrance had been designed to cater to pixies of a certain size—meaning Gran, me, Mom, but not Lugh, and definitely not Sgott. I could widen it enough for him to get in, of course, but it would take time and that wasn’t practical in a situation like this.
I undid my coat, released the retention straps on the knives, and accepted the small flashlight he handed me. After a deep breath that did nothing to steady my nerves, I gripped a ladder rung and began to climb.
