It was difficult to gauge how far under the house the basement ran, thanks to the metal shelving that stood directly in front of us. It was filled with all manner of antiquities, from what looked to be prehistoric cutting tools to Roman terracotta and even a few old Tudor cannonballs—or at least, that’s what I presumed they were, given their size and shape.

“This way.” Lugh turned and strode toward the narrow gap between the shelving and the wall.

“Do you have any idea what you’re looking for? Or are we just randomly searching?”

“I daresay the Eldritch and Nialle’s murderers have already done the whole random search thing.”

“Yes, but it’s safe to presume Nialle didn’t give the latter the information they wanted, given they came after you next. And even if the Eldritch interviewed Dana, she wouldn’t have been able to give them a detailed list of any artifacts that might be missing.”

“She did help him catalogue a lot of the stuff here, remember.”

“Yeah, but knowing Nialle, there’d be a separate stash she knew nothing about. He’s sneaky, like you.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his expression mildly shocked but frost-green eyes glinting wickedly. “I don’t keep hidden stashes.”

I snorted. “Not at the old substation, true, but that’s not the only building you own, is it?”

He grinned and didn’t deny it. We passed two more shelving units and came out into a wide square area that sat between the shelves behind us and the ones ahead. Three long metal tables defined the boundaries of the open area; inside this were four filing cabinets and two whiteboards. Whatever had been written on them had been partly scrubbed off; only illegible bits and pieces remained.

I walked across to the oak staircase that led up to ground floor and leaned against the end newel. Despite its evident age, the inner song of the oak remained strong, and it spoke of an ancient grove and a tree cut down before its prime by humans unable to hear her music. Very few such groves remained today, and they were fiercely protected by the pixies and wood elves who lived in or near them.

Not that humanity was generally aware we pixies were part of that protection brigade. We’d been living amongst humans longer than even the elves, but most had no idea there were five branches of us, two of whom were as tall as the elves. Which was undoubtedly why many still bought into the whole “pixies are tiny beings who fly around sprinkling golden pixie dust everywhere” folk tale rubbish. There was one branch who did use pixie dust during their spelling, of course, and another who used it for flight, but it was little more than showbiz razzamatazz and totally unnecessary for either. The only real magic the rest of us had was one of manipulation; we could hear the song of nature and use its inherent power, and we females could also control the actions of humans, shifters, and some fae via direct contact. The ability to force compliance on others had apparently been part of an ancient goddess gifting the pixie nation with the six virtues of womanhood—beauty, a gentle voice, sweet words, wisdom, needlework, and chastity. The Aodhán line had managed to avoid gaining the bulk of those, especially the whole chastity thing. I mean, seriously, what had the goddess been thinking?