Magic Claims by Ilona Andrews

We installed the shapeshifters into barracks, where Troy administered first aid. The hunters must’ve been higher in the hierarchy, because their barracks were a little better, but not by much. Although we had found a room filled with dried meat, we dumped it all because we had no idea what it was and we’d brought food in from Penderton. Watching people try fresh bread for the first time was an unforgettable experience.

“Here she goes again,” Troy murmured.

One of the hunters, a tall woman with light brown hair, climbed up the stairs. Her legs had been damaged in her desperate attempt to escape the Pale Queen. Troy had healed her, but walking was clearly difficult. Even so, as soon as she could walk, she climbed the stairs and parked herself on the side guarding them. If I got up and went somewhere, she would try to hobble behind me. She took the morning shift, and the other hunter, a man about her age, would take the evening.

After watching her stand there for thirty minutes the morning after we took the complex, I asked Keelan to find a chair. He couldn’t find one, so he brought a big log he cut from a tree.

She and the other hunter had washed off the blue clay. Their ears, teeth, and the ghostly bark-like swirls of green and brown pigment on their skin told me they were fae or at least had some of the blood in them. Despite the growing magic, fae were still rare. The few I’d met held humanity in low regard, and several of them had no problem eating human flesh. But then most of the people I came across in my previous line of work weren’t exactly upstanding citizens. I would have to make some calls and figure out if there was a fae expert we could invite to visit us once things settled down.

We still had no idea what the horned people were.

The hunter reached the top of the stairs. I got up and nodded to her. She nodded back and sat on the log, holding her spear.

“Why is she doing this?” Troy said.

“They are trying to show that they are useful,” I told him. “If she could talk, she would be saying, ‘Please don’t kill me. I can work. I will guard you. I will be loyal.’”

The language barrier was a problem, but we would get past it eventually. Conlan has made a lot of headway with the two younger shapeshifter teenagers. They were up to five words. Water, food, yes, no, and chocolate. Eventually we would explain to everyone from the Ice Age that they were free to do as they wanted.

I looked back at the paper.

Isaac had survived. Not only had he walked away from that fight, he had gone all the way back to Penderton, and when the tech hit that evening, he called back to the Order HQ. Now I was in possession of a letter from Grand Master Damian Angevin, sealed with his sigil and signed by his hand. I’d asked Isaac if he had any shades so the golden light of the Grand Master’s magnificence wouldn’t blind me when I opened it. He hadn’t even cracked a smile.

The Order was officially requesting permission to establish a one-knight chapter at our temple complex to “facilitate the retrieval of our brothers and sisters so their bodies can be returned to their families.” Unofficially, Angevin wanted to keep an eye on us, and I had no doubt that once the bodies were retrieved, he would find some pretext to keep Isaac or someone else stationed here.

I had dealt with him before. He had a thing for Erra, but besides that, my aunt and the Grand Master were a part of a much larger strategy involving the higher levels of federal government. So far, the feds had wisely left Curran and me alone.

Having a knight of the Order on hand brought both advantages and disadvantages. He would, of course, report everything to Angevin, probably directly, considering that the Grand Master knew exactly who Curran and I were. Our family was likely at the top of Angevin’s Watch Me list. But having access to the authority wielded by the Order could prove beneficial down the line.

Curran and Paul were walking toward me.

“Hey, baby!” my husband called.

“Hey, handsome! You come here often?”

“Just to see you. Hey, did those files you got from Ned mention any kind of caves or anything in this area?”

“No. Why?”

“Where does the sewage go?”

Good question. The fortress had almost no furniture, and what little there was was made of stone mostly, but it did have toilets. Sort of. If you could call a hole in the floor a toilet. I had thrown a match in there, which in retrospect wasn’t the brightest thing to do, but it hadn’t illuminated anything and went out before it hit the bottom.

“No idea.”

“First priority,” Paul said. “That and running water. The wells are good and all, but there need to be sinks and showers. This will take a lot of manpower.”

“We’ll hire Penderton people,” Curran said.

“It will be expensive.”

Curran grinned. “We’re bucks up.”

Paul shook his head. “Whatever you say.”

They walked away.

We had just finished renovations on the other house. None of the buildings around me were fit for human habitation without serious construction. I would be stuck in renovation hell forever.

What to do about the Order? I looked at the paper some more. It didn’t say anything new.

If we did allow the Order to establish their one-man chapter here, it would have to come with a lot of conditions attached. For one, I would want its existence to be sealed. I should be able to count the number of Order people who knew about it on one hand, and Nick Feldman couldn’t be one of those people. Curran’s Pack rescue strategy relied on surprising the alphas. Nick was in love with Desandra. He would do anything to keep her and her two sons safe. If he found out what we were planning, he would immediately tell her. We had to keep him in the dark.