Tricks of the Trade - By Laura Anne Gilman Page 0,48
compel someone to tell us the truth? I mean, even though it’s not their name?”
“Some,” Hendrickson said. “Not so much as it used to be, when names were private things. But once you know a fatae’s true name, it’s like you’ve got a key to the lock, and everyone assumes you’ve got a right to what’s behind the door. That’s why a lot of the fatae have use-names, and unless you’re immediate blood-kin, you never know ’em by anything else. Demon do that. And some of them create their own names, invest all they are into those – like nicknames, only more so – and that’s where the default power goes.”
Ben listened to the explanation, wondering idly if Hendrickson was aware that he referred to the fatae as “they,” as though he wasn’t half-fatae himself. Not that Ben could say anything about someone else being in denial, or at least trying to distance himself from something. “We’re sure that’s his true name?”
The faun just nodded, and Ben nodded in return. No need to ask specifics, between the two of them. If Hendrickson said it was so, that was enough.
“Sharon, you and... ” He started to say Pietr, but he’d just pulled the pup to work with Lou on the police records for the break-in. “You and Nick take the name, interview the community again, see if anyone will cough up some more information, thinking that we already know enough to be dangerous.” He looked at the P.I. then. “Would you be willing to help us? I can authorize a small retainer for your time.”
Hendrickson hesitated, but to give him credit, his gaze didn’t flicker away. “How small?”
“A hundred dollars, and we don’t charge you for the coffee you’ve already gotten off us.”
The P.I. grinned, boyishly cute, dimples and all, and reached out a hard, calloused hand. “You weren’t kidding about small, but yeah. Deal.”
He could see that Bonnie was annoyed – this was her case, after all, if Pietr wasn’t there, and he’d just kicked her off it – but she kept her mouth mulishly shut, and waited while the others gathered up their stuff and left.
Then, before he could say anything to explain, apologize, or defend, she opened her mouth.
“There may not be a union as such,” she said, “but the fatae don’t want us poking into Aodink’s death. It didn’t make much sense before, but... I got a visitor on my way back with lunch who had a message for Stosser specifically, to stay the hell out of their business. He didn’t give details, but unless Ian’s into something we’re not being told about... ”
If he was, Ben didn’t know about it, either. The way Ian had been acting, though, it was possible. “That message come with enough force to tear clothing?”
She looked down at her knee, and her mouth pursed in unhappiness. “Just a love tap,” she said. “I get worse in fight practice.”
“I’ll let Stosser know about the message.” He would do no such thing. Ian shrugged things like that off, except when he got annoyed enough to snap people in two, and neither reaction would be useful right now. “Forget about it, otherwise. We keep investigating.” She nodded, clearly expecting nothing else. A shove and a buzz-off weren’t going to make Torres blink. His girl was tougher than that. “I know you wanted to keep on the case, but I have a side job for you. Stosser’s request, before he disappeared again this morning,” he added, when she opened her mouth to protest. “Not a job – a favor.”
The address Venec Translocated me to – we were in a rush, apparently – was a nice little brick-faced building in the West Village. Nothing spectacular, but clean and well maintained... and a walk-up. The universe was mocking me for not using the elevator in our building, clearly. My knee was starting to ache, and I put a hand on the cap, sending a pulse of current lightly into the abraded skin. You weren’t supposed to use current to heal yourself – there was way too much that could go wrong – but making like Bactine and a bandage was fair use, especially if I was going to have to kneel down at some point soon.
The stairwell wasn’t much to write home about, but it was clean and recently painted, and unlike too many of the buildings I’d looked at when I was apartment-hunting, it had a weirdly welcoming vibe. Hell of a lot nicer than my