Page 25 of Waifs And Strays
The ogre blinked. ‘He told me that. I didn’t believe him but…’ He gestured helplessly.
‘You’re desperate for workers.’
‘Yeah. I wouldn’t usually take on werewolves, unbound or otherwise, but we need all the help we can get.’
I nodded for a third time, to show him that I empathised. I wasn’t there to complain about his hiring practices. ‘He told me about you. You’re Tommy, right?’
The ogre grunted assent. ‘Yeah. The kid was supposed to show up first thing this morning but he’s not here yet.’
I considered telling him the truth but I couldn’t risk the news that Nick had been kidnapped getting back to AlexanderMacTire. ‘He’s found other work,’ I lied smoothly. ‘He was too embarrassed to come and tell you himself.’
I watched the foreman’s reaction; he was disappointed but not surprised. There was no suggestion that Tommy or any of the other Crushers had anything to do with Nick’s disappearance; for a start, they were too busy to focus on one potential employee.
‘I appreciate the heads up,’ Tommy said, ‘but he should have told me himself.’
‘Yeah, he should have.’ I pulled a face. ‘Kids these days, eh?’
Tommy rolled his eyes resignedly while I apologised silently to Nick. If I ever found him – and if he wasn’t dead – I would make this right for him.
‘Thanks for dropping by,’ the foreman said. ‘I have to get back to work.’
‘Sure.’ I moved towards the door. ‘By the way, what spell are you using here? Is it a productivity thing that you pump through the warehouse?’ He shot me a look. ‘Your team are over-worked but nobody out there is complaining,’ I continued.
‘I pay them good wages.’
Uh-huh.
The ogre lowered his voice. ‘And it’s not a productivity spell, It’s just a simple contentment potion that we add to the coffee urn.’
I knew it. ‘I’d be careful with that if I were you,’ I told him.
He looked away. ‘I know, but I can’t afford to lose any more workers right now. It’s only a temporary measure.’
I hoped so because those sorts of spells had a way of backfiring. I offered him a half-smile and then I left.
Chapter
Eleven
Alexander MacTire hadn’t abducted Nick and the Crushers had nothing to do with his disappearance. The forget-me-not spell indicated that the kidnapping had been carefully planned; whoever had taken Nick had gone to great expense and trouble, and there had to be a reason why. Was he still alive? The more time that passed, the less chance there was that the boy was alright.
The fury I felt at the unidentified kidnapper more than trumped my fatigue. I wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot.
The river market was in full swing when I returned to Trilby’s stall. I was early but I reckoned they’d forgive me. I waited in line, sandwiched between a tired-looking witch with several children in tow, whom I vaguely recognised, and a young druid whom I’d never seen before. He appeared to be suffering from a nasty bout of agriwort-induced scabies; he’d been calling on powers beyond his ken.
I refrained from passing comment; we all had our problems and you never knew what someone was going through unless you’d walked a mile in their shoes. I did take care not to brushagainst him, though; I had no desire to be in the shoes of someone with suppurating boils.
When we shuffled forward, the witch in front of me asked Trilby how much they were charging for a four-leaf clover charged with silver. With a catch in her voice, she asked if they’d be prepared to give her a discount if she bought three of them.
While Trilby hummed and hawed with their usual bargaining skills, I glanced at the trio of children around her skirt and realised where I recognised her from: she lived in the block of flats that had been bombarded by the ban sith’s wails the previous night. Somebody in that block was going to die soon and the witch was trying to fix the odds against it being any of her kids. Trilby’s special four-leaf clovers would do the trick but they weren’t cheap, and from the state of her threadbare clothes, the woman didn’t have any money to spare. She wasn’t trying to buy a talisman for herself; she was desperate to protect her children.
I pushed myself up onto my tiptoes and caught Trilby’s eye. They raised an eyebrow and I nodded. Trilby shrugged. ‘It looks like I’ve more in stock than I realised,’ they said to the witch. ‘I’ll do you a deal. You can have three—’ they glanced at me ‘—make that four, for fifty quid.’
I frowned and shook my head. ‘Sorry,’ Trilby muttered. ‘Did I say fifty? I meant twenty.’ One silver-charged four-leafed clover sold for £60 on the open market, so four for £20 was ridiculous. I smiled happily.
‘Four for twenty?’ the witch asked incredulously.
‘I can’t get rid of the damned things,’ Trilby said. ‘They’re taking up too much shelf space and their power is already diminishing. In another few days I’ll have to throw them away. But it’s up to you. If you don’t want them?—’
