gone into the poster. Zav’s stern, haughty face.
“Even though that’s roughly what I had planned for this poster, I feel affronted that someone sneaked in here and defiled it.”
I tugged out the dagger. Whoever had thrust it in there hadn’t been weak. The design was smooth and simple, and there weren’t any markings. For some reason, I thought of the dark elves and the big statue on the pedestal that had been made of bones and fossils.
Val? Your bathroom door has a dagger in it.
“Another one? Was there a two-for-one sale at the local hunting-supply store?”
Sindari, whom I’d never taken shopping, did not respond to that.
“Is it made from bone?” I headed to the compact bathroom, where he stood halfway inside, his neck craned to peer around the back of the door.
It appears so, yes.
“It’s not stabbing a picture of a shape-shifted dragon, is it?”
Do you keep such a thing in your bathroom?
“Oh, sure. They’re all the rage now.”
This one is stabbing your underwear, and there’s a note. Sindari scooted out, so I could step inside.
“My underwear? That’s more disturbing than a poster.”
Indeed. I wouldn’t have suspected you to wear anything black and lacy.
“Every now and then, a girl likes to dress to impress.” I grimaced at the bone dagger that impaled a black bra that hadn’t seen action for a while. The intruder would have had to dig it out from deep in my underwear drawer. “It goes through the left cup. Is that supposed to be where my heart would be? It’s a little low.”
Dark elf hearts are on the left side, lower than human hearts.
“Ah. So this is exactly as creepy as I think it is.”
I pulled out the dagger and grabbed the note. It was written on a single piece of paper—army stationery from a pad I’d kept after Willard had thrown it at me for saying something snarky.
“Huh. It’s in English.”
You were expecting Dwarven?
“Dark elf, actually.” I perused the handful of dark brown lines of text—I’d wager the ink was blood—then read them aloud for Sindari. “Do not believe you have defeated us or that we did not notice that you stole something of value. Return it, or we will slay everyone dear to you.”
Did you steal something from the dark elves?
“Just the artifact they supposedly stole from Zav’s people. You wouldn’t think they’d be so uptight about something that wasn’t theirs to start with.” I gazed toward the living room and the poster of Zav. The message had to be for me, but they must not have forgiven him for his part in ruining their ceremony and destroying part of their tunnel system. “Oh, and that notebook. The one I gave to Zoltan for translation. You think that’s what this was about?”
A dark elf would have been able to sense if the magical dragon artifact had been here before even entering the building. If the notebook is only pages and a binding without an element of magic, he or she would have had to search manually for it.
“While leaving a few bone daggers stabbed into things along the way?”
Perhaps the dark elf was frustrated by the search. You left the notebook with Zoltan, did you not?
Yeah.
And Zoltan had even warned me someone might come looking for it. Ugh. I would have to warn him.
“I’ll let Willard know in the morning that the dark elves are still active. They might try to search her office too.” I scowled. “It would be nice if they could have waited a few weeks. This week is already reserved for dragons and shifters. I don’t have room in my daily planner for dark elves.”
Perhaps if you left a note and a calendar pinned to your door outside, your enemies could schedule their assaults and break-ins for more convenient times.
“I think my sense of humor is rubbing off on you.”
My phone buzzed from my nightstand, waking me up. It was pitch dark in my apartment, and I felt like I’d just fallen asleep. After fumbling for the phone and checking the time, I realized I had just fallen asleep.
“What is it, Nin?” I answered without turning on the light.
“Val! I got a call from the commissary yard where I park my truck. Somebody I do not know said it is on fire.”
“Shit.” I was going to kill those shifters, whether I had evidence that they’d committed these crimes or not.
“Will you meet me there?”
“Yeah. Send me the address.” I threw the covers aside, climbed out of bed, and grabbed my