Chapter 10

Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood always had a reputation for quirkiness. From the statue of Lenin with its blood red hand to the life- size rocket from the 60s that juts out of an office complex to the concrete troll with a VW Bug in its clutches lurking under the Aurora Avenue Bridge. The neighborhood has always gone the extra mile to live up to its unofficial motto, Libertas Quirkas — “freedom to be peculiar.”

But Fremont held far stranger secrets than the mundanes who lived there knew.

Behind Lenin, there existed a doorway of sorts—a rift in the fabric of reality only accessible to those with the proper skills. The passage was one of twelve scattered across the continents of Earth. All led to a massive metropolis known simply as Oldtown. Millennia older than Aleppo or Jericho, it was populated with humans, Sidhe halflings, Kin and other magical and semi-magical beings who lived together peacefully. Most of its citizens were descendants of slaves who had escaped the bondage of the Sidhe. They had begged, tricked or borrowed passage through various Thinnings in order to escape the constant wars of the Dokkalfar and Ljosalfar. The city’s unofficial mayor was a reclusive vampire who was old enough to have shared a bottle of wine with Richard the Lionhearted during his internment in Vienna.

Although she was not comfortable in an urban environment, Niamh moved through the narrow cobblestone streets of Old-Town with ease. She had been there for a day and half putting out feelers with beings she knew in an attempt to get the slightest scent of any news of slavers. She had a sense that the center of the operation was here somewhere, but the city was huge. It was a needle in the haystack situation.

Her latest stop was one of the clinics that served Old Town’s medical needs. It was commonly known as Steve and Edie’s, after the healer Edana O’Keefe and her brother Steve.

“Why Niamh Harpe, what a nice surprise. Come on in.” Edie was an elf-halfling with strawberry blond hair and catlike amber eyes that Niamh thought looked like those of every nurse she’d ever met, mundane or magical, warmly sympathetic overlaid with a large dose of cynicism.

Rex, a big pure white malamute who was the office greeter, caught Niamh’s scent and moved over to Edie’s side. He bristled and made a low rumbling growl.

“Easy boy,” Edie gave him a scratch behind the ears. “I better go put him in the back room. I don’t know why you two can’t get along.”

Niamh gave the big dog a half snarl as he reluctantly followed his master, all the while staring back at her suspiciously. She leaned on the counter, idly paging through the local newspaper, waiting for the healer to return.

“So, what’s up? Been months since you’ve been down here in the city.”

“I was enjoying an extended vacation, which my boss cut short. They have me looking for a missing little female wolf-kin. The council thinks the slavers are striking again. Heard anything?”

Edie looked sympathetic. “That’s awful. I don’t know how you stand working on these kinds of cases. I haven’t heard a word, but I’ve been buried in ODs. This new drug, Fairy’s Tears, is sweeping through Old Town. It’s highly addictive and toxic over time. The Sweet Mother of All only knows how the mundane doctors on the other side are handling it.”

She looked over Niamh’s shoulder toward the door and her eyes widened.

“Oh Damn.”

Niamh turned to see two men walk in and look around like they were thinking of buying the place. The first was a stocky forty something rat-faced man with a scruff who was trying for a mid-twenties hip but ending up looking middle aged, fat and ridiculous. She noted the bulge of a weapon under his left arm.

The other was a huge shifter with a bored look on his face.

She instantly classified rat-man. A predator. A demi-goblin used to taking what he wanted, when he wanted. The scent of the big guy told her he was Ursa-Kin, a bear shifter, probably grizzly.

Niamh knew the type. She figured the guy was one of the new crop of cross border drug suppliers. Mundane Fremont was filled with tech yuppies who provided a ready market for fae-wrought designer drugs. The drug Evie mentioned had almost surely had its origin in the labs of Dökkálfar alchemists. The dark elves were big on designer drugs—for centuries they had found a ready market with those beings who found immortality to be too heavy a burden. This demi-goblin obviously thought of himself as Tony Montana. The bear shifter looked too dumb to be evil.

She had more important things to do than worry about a small-time pusher.

Rat-man glanced at Niamh, dismissed her and turned to Edie.

“You know why we’re here. Where’s Steve?”

“Armand, please leave us alone.”

“Your brother owes me money. He had a choice, either money or dogs. I warned him what would happen if he didn’t deliver what I asked.”

He pushed himself close to Edie, too close. She looked furious and terrified at the same time.

Shit. None of my business.

Niamh cleared her throat.

He looked over at her, trying for Alpha dominance. “Hey good looking, this is a private conversation so get lost.”

Seriously? Niamh gave him a sour look. “Go away. I do not have time for this.”

Rat-man didn’t like the sound of that. He bared his teeth.

The tension in the room ramped up.

She sighed. “Edie, what do you have going on with this asshole.”

“This is Armand Deloite. Steve owes him money. He sells drugs and sets up animal fights on the side. He works for The McGuire.”

“Well now, that’s fortuitous. The disgusting Leprechaun is next on my list. He has his fingers in all sorts of pies on both sides of the border. Armand can escort me there.”