Page 1141 of One More Kiss

Chapter2

Al and Peggy Fishbeinhad been in the industry long enough to make a damn good fortune out of it. They weren’t oligarch rich, but they did own a four-story building in downtown Portland, and they did own their own jet and several large ships, and they did employ the services of the best mystical security experts in the country. So it was pretty understandable that they were hard for some random EGW officer to track down and get to. They used their building to store and care for shipments, which took a lot of space and attracted a lot of the bad sort of attention. The attention of the sort of people who would smuggle incredibly endangered species around for God only knew what purpose.

I had to not think too much about those poor tortoises in some crate with some assholes. Instead, I focused on Officer Graham next to me. I couldn’t work out a reasonable way to get him into ass-viewing position and still have me leading the way, unfortunately. But we did have to keep close on the packed sidewalks of Portland, so I got to smell him. I won’t lie, I’d always thought that the whole “oh, this guy smells so good” thing was some real bullshit cooked up specifically for romance novels and memes. But Graham smelled like…citrus peels and cedar and rosemary, and I had to say, I was hooked. It cut through all the body odor and exhaust that made up the milieu of the city around us on any other day, and the closer I stayed to him, the stronger it was.

Lucky for me, he didn’t seem to mind me pulling up close to him. Maybe for the body heat in the cold of winter. I wasn’t going to question it. I simply intended to enjoy it while it lasted.

Which was unfortunately only about three more minutes. Then we rounded a corner and I pointed to a large, gray building two doors in. “That’s the Fishbein place.”

Graham nodded curtly, but didn’t step any closer. “How well-protected we talking?”

“Smart and cute, Officer.” I dug my keys out of my pocket and played my thumb across the enchanted tag, feeling the micro-runes burst with heat as they activated. A mirrored shimmer fell over the building, cascading down like molten silver and disappearing into the ground. “Well-protected enough that you won’t get through the barrier if I don’t carry this key fob in next to you. So I guess you’ll be graced with my company a little while longer.”

“A lot of security for people totally on the up-and-up.”

“Al and Peggy don’t move contraband creatures. But they do move very valuable creatures, rare medicinal components, and a fair number of zoological and veterinary texts for translation. Some of them fetch a pretty penny, and an even prettier one on the black market.” I gestured toward the stairs leading to the front entrance. “Come on. They’ll know that someone’s coming now that the first level of protection’s been taken down. If someone doesn’t come knocking, they’ll freak the hell out.”

He nodded again, and I led us up the stairs. The little medallion-fob vibrated gently as we passed through the final protective enchantments around the building. I tapped the knocker against the door, and it vanished, opening the way inside the building. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”

Officer Graham slipped his glasses off as he walked through the doorway and whistled low, looking around and definitely taking his time to go through the main hallway. Couldn’t exactly blame him. I’d gawked way more when I got into the Fishbein place for the first time. The aesthetic of “there was a disaster that was recently cleaned up” never changed, but the actual content of the disaster seemed to be in near constant flux. I remembered very distinctly, their entryway had been the same white-painted concrete it was as we walked in now, but the walls had been taken up entirely by huge cages, each one holding a pair of silvery-winged Nordic phoenixes. Only distantly related to the incredibly rare Egyptian species, but still not a common sight, especially in the US, and double especially in a drove of dozens like they’d had then.

Today, as we walked through, there were significantly fewer cages, but huge stacks of crates all the way to the ceiling and hemming us in so we had to walk single-file. They were all plastered with dark ink in some language I sure as hell didn’t recognize, and the whole space was filled with a distinct smell of vegetables and wood bark and…turpentine? Something chemical or medicinal in some way. It just meant I needed to stay closer to Graham to huff that citric/woodsy/herbaceous thing he had going on.

I wasn’t upset about that necessity.

I led us around the first stack of boxes until we got to the sitting room. “Al? Peggy?”

Gentle footsteps padded closer and louder until Peggy came around the corner from the kitchen. My whole body tensed as she came into view. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen her in anything other than a floral dress and cowboy boots, with her hair in tight curls or underneath a Stetson. She was always put together, even just tooling around her house.

She was in a pink bathrobe, barefoot, and her gray curls were a mess around her face. Her eyes were puffy and red, and I definitely didn’t miss the handkerchief clutched in one hand.

I immediately closed the distance with her and led her to the couch. “Peggy. What’s wrong?’

She didn’t speak for a while, dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief first. When she did talk, her voice was unusually hoarse and clotted. “It’s Al. I don’t know what happened, but something’s wrong.”

I glanced over at Officer Graham, but luckily, he didn’t approach. The last thing Peggy needed at this exact second was EGW asking her questions.

I took her hand and gently rubbed it. “Where is he?”

She sniffled and leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. He went to the port to receive a shipment today. We were supposed to be picking up…” Her head snapped up and her eyes sharpened, focusing on Officer Graham. “A friend of yours?’

“He’s EGW. He was looking for Al to talk about some Wallsman’s tortoises that are being moved through. If anyone would have heard about it, he’d be on that short list, right?’

She relaxed, though only slightly. “I don’t know anything about it. I’m sure he’d help if he was here…” Her voice trailed off into a strangled groan, and she shook in place.

I rubbed her back as Officer Graham stepped up. “Mrs. Fishbein. You’re sure something went wrong? If you are, I can run it up the flagpole, see if any of the agents at the port saw anything.”

I wasn’t sure at all how she’d take that. Graham was trying to be helpful, sure, but he was doing it in that demeaning cop way at the same time, and Peggy Fishbein wasn’t the sort of woman who took shit from anyone, including Esoteric Game and Wildlife.

She slumped into herself, then slowly got back up. As she did, she looked back at me, fully bypassing Officer Graham. “Raleigh won’t eat or drink or even sing.”

Shit. I followed along behind her, but at that point, I was a hundred percent certain that something had happened to Al. Something very, very bad.

She led us out into the hallway and upstairs, and my ears were immediately filled with a familiar cacophony of growls, chirps, and the odd human-like voice. But what was definitely missing, now that I knew to expect its absence, was the haunting whistle-song of Raleigh, Al’s Yangtze siren.

Peggy led us between two makeshift walls of terrariums, each one housing a single large, bright-colored Halvas beetle. Popular children’s pets. The space opened up around a massive, gold-trimmed aquarium. At the bottom sat a two-foot long eel-like creature. The gossamer fins along the sides waved gently with the flow from the aquarium bubbler. I had to fight against a burn of tears behind my eyes. I’d never seen Raleigh so…sad. Usually, he was bright white, his fins iridescent like rainbows as he swam figure eights and spirals through the huge aquarium. And he was always, always surfacing to sing. He didn’t even look at me, Peggy, or Officer Graham as we walked up, his oil-slick eyes dull and unfocused.

Graham walked right up to the edge of the aquarium and squatted down until he was eye-to-eye with Raleigh, and he shook his head. “This is Al Fishbein’s siren?”

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