Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,46
frowning. They’d chased Fionn into the stairwell. Since there were no steps up, descending was the only option. “Why not?”
Anna had already crossed the landing. She leaned out the window. “This was open. Besides, there are people on the other floors. Someone would have set off the security alarm if a cloaked villain had dropped by.”
Morran leaned over her shoulder, impatience ripping at his nerves. Now that it was full dark, the grounds were deserted. “Can you spot him?”
“No. We could ask the power guys working out front, but I doubt any humans saw him. A Shade in stealth mode is hard enough for the fae to detect.” Anna shut the window, then locked it.
“The orange cat remained outside to patrol the perimeter.”
“If there is anything to report, he’ll let us know. The cats are the best eyes and ears around,” Anna said. “We’re better off staying on the fourth floor. Eventually, he’ll be back to finish the job.”
They began mounting the stairs. “Tell me,” Morran began, “why is your friend the only patient on the top floor?”
“He was easier to guard that way. Fewer comings and goings. Less collateral damage if something like this happened. We were just lucky he had the money to secure a whole hospital floor for himself.”
The explanation only increased Morran’s puzzlement. “Who is Barleycorn, and why does he interest the Shades?”
“He’s well-known among the fae exiles—many business interests, pillar of the community, occasional faery godfather. That sort of thing.”
“Not the usual way to inspire enemies.”
“I don’t know everything about him, though I’ve worked for him for years. “
Morran raised a brow. “How did he end up here?”
Anna pulled open the stairwell door onto the fourth floor. “He had me working at this professional diving business, mostly to keep an eye on one of the employees there. To make a long story short, she got into trouble and he played detective. A fight with some deep-sea fae put him in a coma. I got the task of looking after him until he wakes up again.”
“What are the odds of recovery?”
“Hard to say. He’s healthy enough, for all that his test results confuse the human doctors. In fact, I’m almost certain that earthquake came from him.”
“Why?”
“Whatever else John Barleycorn is, he’s an earth mage. I think your arrival disturbed his sleep.”
Morran pondered that a moment before asking, “So what’s Juradoc’s interest in Barleycorn?”
She slowed her pace, turning to regard Morran. She held a device—a flashlight, she’d called it—in her left hand, and she switched it on and off, on and off. A nervous habit. Morran was tempted to take it away. “I don’t know. Not for certain.”
“Guess.”
“Not many people know this, but he collects artifacts—old scrolls and obscure maps from forgotten realms. Along the way, he’s studied the Shades more than anyone I know. He’s tracked the other realms they’ve destroyed, searching for some way to unravel their power. Maybe they’ve noticed. Maybe he has something they want.”
She started walking again. Morran kept pace, curiosity burning. “Do you know what he’s found out?”
“Nothing we haven’t already discussed.” Anna shrugged her head. “He might have said other stuff, but it went over my head.”
Morran wasn’t sure he believed her last statement, but they were already back in the room. As they entered, Leena was sitting by the bed, her eyes ringed with dark circles of fatigue.
“I’m going to make some calls,” Anna announced, taking a second chair that sat in the far corner. “There were supposed to be pack members guarding the room until I arrived today. Someone clocked off early.”
“We need more sentries on the grounds,” Morran said.
“You bet.” Anna pulled a device from her shoulder bag. “And I also bet you’re hungry. I’ll get them to bring pizza.”
“Bring what?” Morran asked.
“Pizza. You’ll love it.”
Morran was more restless than hungry. Now that his mind was healing, the yawning absence inside him was growing worse. He noticed it less during a chase or fight, but any moment of quietude was pure misery.
The phoenix was a dream, a grief, and a prayer scorched into his spirit. Those who knew no better referred to it as a familiar, but it was no mere magical assistant. It was fully half of who he was.
Its—his—name was Arlanoth. The knowledge broke through him like a storm.
“I’m going outside,” Morran said, aware he sounded abrupt. He couldn’t help it, nor could he face the questioning glances of the others.
He’d recovered the name. Arlanoth. He whispered it like a prayer as he crept out