Page 47 of Mystic Justice
‘They’re different,’ she said excitedly. ‘Similar, but with differences.’ She pointed towards a rune. ‘This is the symbolfor air, whereas on the dryad we had the symbol for water.’ Realisation darted across her face and her expression grew grim. ‘Some have postulated that the returned dead do not have a proper connection to the earth, but renewing links to the elements would fix the imbalance and permanently anchor them to this realm.’
She met my gaze. ‘There are also runes of regeneration. It appears that your killer has brought someone back from the dead and now they’re trying to make them whole again. If they succeed they’ll be undead, and…’ she struggled for the right word ‘…reinforced. I would postulate that if the ritual is completed, the risen dead will be almost impossible to kill.’
I kept my face calm. Dragons were nearly impossible to kill – but it could be done. Just because something was difficult didn’t make it unachievable. If this undead, shambling zombie became immortal, we’d work out a way to contain it.Cage or kill: that was the Connection’s informal motto.
‘Thank you for your insight,’ I said as I stopped videoing. I did that for two reasons: firstly, I didn’t want a record of our conversation because Bastion deserved that much; secondly, if he didn’t welcome my questions I’d probably need both hands to fight for my life.
‘The centaur appears to have been dropped from at least two thousand feet,’ I began carefully. ‘The dryads in the grove at the time didn’t recall the sound of a plane or helicopter, so it’s been suggested that a winged creature like a dragon or a griffin was responsible for dropping him.’
Amber stepped closer to me and angrily raised a forefinger. ‘If you called me here to accuse Bastion of carrying out—’
‘Not at all,’ I said hastily. ‘But I’m still waiting to hear from Shirdal about whether or not any hits were taken out on centaurs in the last week or two.’
Bastion, his dark eyes still fixed on me, opened his phone and dialled. ‘Any hits on centaurs in the UK in the last two weeks?’ he asked. He listened for a response and hung up. ‘None,’ he said firmly. ‘Centaurs don’t tend to attract hits because they’re not usually power hungry. They don’t step on toes.’
‘Okay,’ I kept my voice level. ‘Butcoulda griffin lift a centaur that high in the air?’
‘If the centaur was unconscious, yes. If they were struggling and throwing their body and weight around, it would be trickier.’
‘But still possible?’
Bastion considered. ‘For the strongest of us, yes.’
Griffin numbers were in the toilet: there were only forty or fifty left in the world. That meant Bastion knew them all by name.
‘Could Ghost have done it?’ I asked. Ghost had run an underground black tourney for at least a couple of years; she was certainly capable of deadly action.
‘It’s not her,’ Bastion said firmly.
‘It’s not,’ Amber agreed forcefully. ‘She’s currently hanging out with my mum in Edinburgh.’
That drew me up short. Amber had real ‘sprang from her father’s forehead fully formed’ energy so it was hard to imagine her as a kid, harder still to see her as a doting daughter. Maybe she didn’t dote, or maybe she kept her doting private.
Bastion met my gaze. ‘When Shirdal found out Ghost’s identity, he threw the rule book at her. Rest assured, she’ll be working off her penance for years to come. I give you my word and oath that neither she nor I were involved in this killing.’ He glowed yellow as his oath took hold.
I sagged a little at the sight of the golden-oath glow. Dammit. I’d really been hoping it was Ghost. Not that Bastion’s oath meant he was telling the truth, just that hebelievedhe was telling the truth. Plenty of people spewed lies while certain they were facts. Bastion’s oath didn’t rule out Ghost but it haddefinitely moved her down the suspect list. And he was crossed off entirely because he couldn’t lie under oath about his own actions.
I tried to keep my disappointment off my face. ‘Okay, besides Ghost, are there any other griffins in this area at present?’ I asked.
‘A few.’
‘Names,’ I ordered.
Bastion glared at me and Krieg, standing next to me, shifted a little. It wasn’t anything overt – he didn’t raise a mace or growl – he just moved his weight from one foot to the other, but it was enough to make Bastion grimace.
‘I’ll dig into it,’ he offered, his tone placatory. ‘Find out who is around then speak to them. If I hear any alarm bells, I’ll tell you their names.’
I opened my mouth to argue but Amber cut in. ‘That’s as good as you’re getting, Inspector. Take it and be grateful.’
Pressing my lips together until the urge to swear at them both had passed, I pointed out, ‘There are four elements, Crone. We’ll have more dead on our hands soon.’
She looked back at me coolly. ‘Then you’d best get moving, hadn’t you?’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Feeling the pressure of the ticking clock, I decided to go back to the place that was at the heart of the case: Botany. It was 5pm so the staff would be there, but it would be quiet and there would be time for questions, for pressure. And if Gideon Merrick wasn’t there, I would hunt him down to wherever the hell he was and kick his ass. I was getting impatient; if I was right, there would be another death tonight unless I prevented it. And if there was another death then it would be on me.
Krieg slid me a sidelong look and pulled into a Drive-Thru McDonalds. ‘What do you want?’ he asked. Confused, I blinked at him. He didn’t quite sigh, but the pause before he spoke again carried the weight of exasperation. His words came out clipped, his voice a touch too sharp. ‘Inspector, unless I’m mistaken the only sustenance you’ve had all day is a can of Dr Pepper this morning.’
