Page 45 of Stalk the Dark
“I know. But there may be some clue, something we can find to get them answers.”
Edwin joined us on the sidewalk a moment later. “Let’s go talk to some factory workers.”
Two hours later, we had no more information than before. According to witnesses, Mr. Dargo had left work at his normal time but hadn’t shown up the next day. There were no regular stops that he made on the way home. We walked his route, hoping to find some clues but nothing. The streets were cobble and stone, and it had rained plenty between the night of his disappearance and today. Any forensic clues would have been washed away.
“What we need is a mageri,” Merry said.
But the Order didn’t employ mageri, so no one commented on that suggestion. We did, however, work with faebloods with extrasensory abilities on a freelance basis from time to time. A little mystical intervention could have helped us on this case. “I’m going to ask Micah if he can send us someone when I speak to him tomorrow.”
Padma snorted. “You really do have confidence in your guy, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Even if he gets the Order to agree, they still need to get it past the Sangualex. They control the law here and how it’s run.”
“Yeah, well, that needs to change. We can’t worklike this—with one hand tied behind our backs. It’s ridiculous.”
“She’s right,” Merry said. “We need to fight back. Demand more autonomy to do our jobs. If we’d had it before, then…then our friends might still be alive.”
Something shifted in Padma’s expression, too fast for me to decipher. “We won’t lose anyone else.”
“I’ll let the family know that we’re keeping the case open for now,” Edwin said as we got back to the van. “Who knows, someone might come to us with information.”
“What we need is the manpower to widen the search,” Merry said. “Check any places where someone could dump a body.”
“Yeah, but we don’t have that,” Padma said bitterly.
I yanked open the van door. “Then we put that back on the Sangualex doorstep.”
“I’ll call in,” Padma said.
That was all we could do for now.
And that sucked.
Ordell and Hemlockdidn’t show for supper, and with Matthew’s warning running through my mind, I needed to speak to my appointed protectors. Edwin pointed me in the direction of the east wing, third floor, where the pairwere housed.
They had the two rooms at the bottom of the corridor, closest to the vaulted window at the end of it. Ordell on the left and Hemlock on the right, according to Edwin.
I knocked on Ordell’s door, but there was no answer. I tried Hemlock and was about to give up when a muffled grunt filtered through the door. Um…okay. Someone was having some alone fun…
I made to step away, but the next sound stopped me—a sharp whistle of air and a soft crack that sounded suspiciously like leather on skin. It was followed by another groan, this one pained.
Images tumbled through my mind, all kinky and definitely not my problem, until a strangled sob hit my ears.
Fuck it. He could be hurt. I twisted the doorknob, and the door opened easily. Silently. The room was dark, drapes drawn, but my eyes adjusted quickly to locate a figure on the floor beside the bed.
Hemlock was on his knees, bare back to me, head bowed as he brought his arm up to lash himself with a small flail. The leather slapped at his back, adding to the bloody trails already marring his skin and cutting open the silvery tracks of old scars.
What the fuck?
Thwack.
I needed to leave.
Thwack.
I needed to look away from the play of muscleacross his shoulders and the beads of perspiration running down his chiseled sides.
