Chapters (32)
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- To My Readers
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
I shook my head. “No. He’s not dead. At least I don’t think he is.”
His face went sheet white. “And how do you expect I can help with that?”
I needed him to show me the police records of what got stolen from the museum. If I knew what the brooch looked like, then I’d have something to bring to the pack meeting. There were innocent people in the pack who didn’t need to feel the full force of Donovan’s wrath. If I had a picture or description of the brooch, then someone might be able to help us identify the traitor before things got out of hand.
“Well… It’s about the robbery in Dublin.”
The friendly McTavish was gone as his gaze narrowed at me. “And what would you know of that?”
“How much do you know about my kind?”
“Not a lot, but more than what they’re sayin’ on the telly.”
“Right. And if I told you we’re not the only things out there?”
“I’d say you’re in the country that’s always believed in the fair folk, and I’m not an idiot.”
Fair folk was another term for the fey. Smart man. “So, let’s just say the fair folk had some things in that museum. One of them was an object that controls this beast, and now—”
“Someone’s got it and is bossing the monster around. Jay-sus. It’s like something out of a horror flick.”
Very smart man. “For sure. I mean, it felt like I’d fallen into It Follows the other day. I was running and running, and still it was right behind me. I’ve never been so scared.”
“I caught that one. Good movie,” he muttered under his breath.
I leaned forward and gave him my best try at puppy eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to have a list of what was stolen from the museum, would you? I just need to know what I’m looking for.”
The waitress came back with his tea and food. He took a long sip before setting the mug down. “Ehm… So… I don’t have it offhand. I’m posted in Murriton, and I don’t see much about the goings-on in Dublin.”
I closed my eyes as that idea went down the toilet.
“But—” He started speaking, and my hope bloomed again. “I’ve a mate in the Dublin garda. I can make some calls. What’re you after? Might be easier if I’m specific rather than asking to see all the files.”
“A brooch. I just need to know what it looks like.”
He nodded. “I’ll text you once I hear back. The number you called me on is your mobile?”
“It is. Thanks. I really appreciate this.”
“Any way I can help.”