Wolf Hunted, стр. 36
Whoever had done this had come in under Alfheim’s magical radar, which meant I should be seeing some magical residue.
I wasn’t. I picked at a smaller poster glued to the lamppost outside Sif’s shop. The corner lifted up, and I leaned over to see if I could catch anything at all backlit by the dawn’s first rays.
“There’s nothing here,” I said. “No shadow. No magic clinging to the paper or the glue.” I swung my axe close. “Sal agrees.”
Sif leaned against the window. “There is no way a group of mundanes could have done this without magical help.”
She was correct. No way could they have snuck in under the noses of so many elves. “What is going on?”
Sif tapped her fingers against the glass. “There was an elf,” she said, “in the enclave where I was born.” She stared out at the road. “He liked to offer hollow gifts to the women of the village. Mundane, elf, even a spirit or two. He’d make these grand, sweeping promises but they were all promises to himself.” She shook as if the thought called up other, worse memories. “He was one of the reasons I moved here.” She turned back to the window. “This feels the same, except it’s directed at the entire town.”
Maybe. Or the true target hadn’t yet been separated from the Alfheim herd. “What happened to him?” I asked.
Sif didn’t look at me. “He’s dead.”
The memory obviously caused her pain, so I didn’t ask a follow-up. “I’ll check a few more posters.”
Sif peeled one of the posters off her window. “Frank.”
I turned back toward the small elf with the golden glamour. “Yes?”
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it and shook her head. Her magic contracted as well, and her normal shimmer pulled closer as if forming a shield around her body. “Be careful, okay?”
“I have Sal,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Oh!” Sif tapped her thigh. “After you left, I pulled up a couple of special order bikes for you to look at.”
My phone buzzed. “Hold on a sec.” I swiped it open. “It’s Ed.” And then into my phone, “Hello?”
“Open the site that’s on the posters,” he said. “Then get down to City Admin immediately.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I gotta deal with this,” he said, and hung up.
I stared at my phone’s screen for a moment, at the frustrating photo of Ellie, and realized how ubiquitously annoying life had been since the re-wedding.
I opened the site listed on the posters, and right there, right at the top, a video opened.
Some kid with a microphone was walking around Alfheim’s empty City Admin parking lot. “We’ll be starting our tour here, at City Hall,” he said.
“What the hell?” I said. Alfheim was dealing with a threat, but one that didn’t feel like a real threat. It really did feel as if we were dealing with loud pranksters.
Sif pointed at my phone. “You and Sal need to go now,” she said. She didn’t look frightened, but her contracted magic vibrated.
“If you need any help, or sense anything, call Bjorn or Lennart, okay? They’re working on a spell that might break open whatever hidden magic we’re dealing with here.”
She nodded. “Go on.”
Sal and I jogged toward my truck, and City Admin.
Chapter 16
I turned into the Alfheim Administration Complex lot. The thick, concrete buildings of the Complex sprawled along the road, and provided both the town and county governmental space. The Sheriff’s Department shared space with Alfheim’s City Police around the corner from Dag’s mayoral offices, City Planning, and the main library.
Ten feet in front of the Administrative Complex’s main entrance stood the hungry-looking young man who had been broadcasting on the website moments before. He wore dress pants and a jacket, and held his microphone in a way that suggested he knew what he was doing. A bored-looking guy next to him held a different boom mic, and an equally bored-looking woman with a new, expensive camera stood to the side. None wore identifiers.
They weren’t amateurs, but they didn’t have an uplink van, so they were most likely freelance stringers.
Which meant someone was paying them.
Ed leaned against his cruiser, which he’d parked in such a way as to block the best shots of the Admin building. He’d also turned on the cruiser’s lights, which flickered an annoying red throughout the lot, also probably in an attempt to ruin as many shots as possible.
He’d also called Arne and Dag, and probably half the pack, and they were on the way. I’d just happened to show up first.
At least the crew wasn’t from one of The Cities’ major television stations. The last thing Alfheim needed was a celebrity reporter asking questions as pointed as an elf’s ears.
Sal did not want to stay in her seat pocket. She didn’t sense any magic, but she didn’t like any unknowns walking around Alfheim.
“We can’t chance one of them taking pictures of you,” I said. “Bjorn said that some seers can read real photos. What if some witch somewhere gets a whiff of you and comes looking to start a war?” Because with the number of villains looking to cause problems in Alfheim, I pretty much expected some random fae-born witch to saunter down Main Street looking for an elven battle axe or two to kidnap.
Sal tossed me a clear Fine.
She, like my wayward dog, did not like to stay in the truck.
“Don’t worry. If I need you, I’ll come get you.”
I didn’t see any magic, but I hadn’t seen any magic around our interloper, either.
The sun crested over the lower level of the east building, and a lovely sliver of golden light spread over the parking lot. The reporter pointed, and the entire crew moved to take advantage.
They didn’t seem particularly professional. Their equipment probably cost as much as Bloodyhood, but they didn’t really seem to understand what they were doing.
Ed noticed their attempt to take advantage