Dragon Justice. Laura Anne Gilman

      Chapter 2

      Holy mother of meatloaf, the atmosphere in Stosser’s office didn’t just hum—it fricking crackled.

      The boss did the introductions. “This is Bonita Torres.”

      “The Torres is known to us.”

      It took me a second, then my manners flooded back and I made as graceful a salutation as I could. A properly elegant curtsy requires yards of skirts and a fitted corset, but I didn’t think the Lord would be offended, so long as the proper respect was shown. How the hell was my name known to him? That wasn’t good. Or it was very good. I wasn’t sure.

      The other unknown figure in the room laughed at my response, a low noise that sent a different kind of shiver down my neck. Oh, fuck. Stosser, damn him, looked utterly unaffected.

      “She will be acceptable,” the other, still-hooded figure said. Her voice was low, a smoky contralto, but not even remotely masculine. It was the voice that could lure otherwise sane men to their doom with a smile on their lips and a sparkle in their eye.

      A thought passed through my head that it wasn’t really a surprise Stosser was unaffected: he had already trooped merrily along to his doom, that being us, here, this.

      I wanted very badly to know what the hell was going on, but also knew damn well to keep my mouth shut unless spoken to.

      “Our guests have come to us about a child who has gone missing.”

      I turned my head slightly, to indicate that I was listening to the Big Dog, but I kept my gaze on the Lord. Not that I distrusted him, exactly, but I wanted to keep him in my sight at all times. The Lady didn’t worry me—I might like guys and girls, but the Fey Folk kept it pure vanilla when they deigned to mess with mortals. At worst, she’d try to make me a lapdog, and my kinks didn’t bend that way.

      “A Fey child?” Even as I asked I knew that wasn’t it. Not just because Fey children were rare and protected, but because the Fey would not involve mortals in their own business. While not nearly as arrogant as the angeli, the Fey were still about as insular as a breed could get, in the modern world. Which, in my opinion, was good for all concerned.

      Every fairy tale you ever heard? The truth was worse.

      “A mortal child.” Stosser clarified the case. The Lord did not move away from my gaze, allowing me to watch him, and I knew damn well he was allowing me to do so. His cowl lay against his shoulders, and his face was clearly visible, a Rackham sketch come to life, but twice as vibrant and three times as dangerous, if he desired. “A seven-year-old girl, abducted from her bed during the dark of the moon.”

      Which had been last week. “Not quite seven, I bet.” It wasn’t a guess; a child past that birthday would be safe from the Fey; I didn’t know if Catholicism set seven as the age of reason because the Fey stopped being interested in human children around then, implying that God had claimed them, or if the Fey stopped being interested because the child actually had developed a moral backbone. It didn’t matter which came first so long as you could keep your offspring safe until then.

      Someone hadn’t.

      “And you came to us because…you didn’t take her? And her parents think you did?” That made no sense; they wouldn’t care what mortals thought. Especially if nothing could be pinned to them.

      “Our Troop abides under the Palisades Treaty,” the Lord said. I was starting to get—not used to his gaze, but able to ignore it. Sort of.

      “But you think someone slipped up, maybe couldn’t resist?” Stosser asked.

      No. Not that. It didn’t feel right.

      “Or another Troop is poaching?” he continued.

      Poaching in their territory and letting them take the blame. Yes.

      “That,” the Lady said, and her voice was the growl of a sweet-tuned sports car, clearly annoyed that Stosser seemed oblivious, “is what you must discover.”

      “We must?” The words slipped out, even though I’d have sworn my mouth was shut. Oh, not smart, Bonita, not smart questioning one of the Fey. I didn’t think they would do anything here—hell, I knew they wouldn’t do anything here, not within our walls. That would be rude. But once I was out on the street, once I left the protection of human habitations… Being well over the age of reason didn’t protect you from anything save abduction. There were far worse things the Fey could—and did—do to humans who crossed them. And they could make you like it.

      The Lord seemed to be in command of these negotiations, from the way he stepped in. Or maybe he just wanted to keep the Lady from saying anything more. “If the human child was taken within our Troop, we will deal with it. If she was taken by another, infringing on our lands and agreements…then we will deal with it.” I did not like the sound of that, and from the way Stosser went even more still, neither did he. But neither of us said anything. “If she was taken by another, one not-Fey, and a trail was left to indicate that a Troop had done it, breaking the Treaty…”

      The Lord looked me direct in the eye then, his gaze unshadowed, and the tawny-gold of his irises was exactly like an owl’s, just like legend claimed. “It was not so many turns of the moon past that this city was at shattering point, mortal and breed, Cosa and Null.”

      Understatement, that. The battle of Burning Bridge last winter had been a high point in human-fatae cooperation, but the before and after… I knew I didn’t know how close to the brink the city had come and was pretty sure that I didn’t want to know.

      “We have no wish for that point to return.”

      No. Nobody did, not even the most rabid antihuman fatae. We’d scared ourselves sober, for once.

      If someone was trying to set up the Fey, we needed to be on it, to prevent any more damage from being done. A PUP’s word that the Fey were not guilty would be trusted; we’d earned that, at least.

      “You have the best contacts within the fatae community,” Stosser said to me. “If anyone knows anything, they’ll tell you.”

      The boss knew better than to use his usual glamour of competence with not one but two Fey in the room, but he practically glowed with such utter confidence in my abilities, I almost believed it, too. Sure, not a problem, boss.

      “It is done, then,” the Lady said, her voice still disturbing but not so obviously fishing for bait. We weren’t interesting enough for her to keep playing with, I guess. The Lord lifted his hood back over his head, making them a matched set, and they swept out of the room like the arrogant bastards they were. I was pretty sure I never saw either one of them touch the door; it opened for them like it was eager to do their bidding.

      Or maybe just to be rid of them. I know I breathed a little easier once I sensed they had left the office entirely.

      Only then did I turn to Stosser. “Who’s on—”

      “Just you.”

      “What?” We did not go out alone. That was the first rule, hammered