Dead Weight

A Whitewitch Island Short Story

Kobo Edition

Patti Larsen

© 2023 Patti Larsen

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Chapter One

“Are you my new mother?”

I looked up from my computer at the sound of that question, realizing my mistake immediately as my gaze fell from the smirk on my partner’s face to the staring, black eyes of the puppy at my feet. It took me a moment to process the bullpen had fallen quiet, most of my fellow Guild Artemis members gone for the day, the evening shift not yet arrived to take their place. I’d been deep into researching a case, at my desk long past the time I should have been gone myself, my brain as tired as my eyes which I rubbed a little before I spoke without thinking.

“Excuse me?” Elias Barrow was an expert at surprising me, admittedly, though his seemingly endless torments over the last ten years I played inquisitor to his hunter had rarely caught my breath or put me in such a place as the appearance of the floppy-eared creature wriggling in hope and delight at the base of my chair.

“Elias said you would be.” The mastiff puppy’s tongue swept over his jaws, lolling out again after a moment, giant paws shuffling underneath him in complete disproportion to his lean and lanky body. I was more than familiar with Hades Hounds and knew that in very short order he’d be a hulking bruiser of epic stature despite his present awkward adorableness, so I wasn’t taken in by the cute.

Okay, not entirely. So cute. And a giant nope.

“Elias,” I glared at my partner who didn’t even try to hide his smirk, arms crossing over his lean chest, pale blue eyes alight with that particularly pointed humor of his, “was sadly mistaken.”

I might as well have kicked the poor creature. His large ears, as yet undocked, fell as his tail—also still intact—ceased its thumping enthusiasm on the leg of my desk. I’d seen sad in my years in this job, trust me. Tragedy was my stock and trade, the investigation of death and destruction rarely without repercussions for the victims and their families. I’d learned to harden my heart against sympathy, no longer taking on the hurt of those I tried to help. Being the granddaughter of a Gold Dragon Sentinel helped. But despite myself and my rigorous insistence on protecting my own soul from the pain that I dealt with on a daily basis, I wasn’t immune to the sad face of a puppy who’d been rejected by the person he’d been told would take care of him for the rest of his life.

I was going to kill Elias just as soon as I picked up the pieces of my own broken heart now lying in dusty bits at the oversized paws of the mastiff puppy.

“Don’t you want to be my mother?” He didn’t whine or snuffle, his question soft, wistful without a trace of blame or anger.

Did I mention I was going to kill Elias? “It’s not that,” I said, scrambling for something to tell him. “You’re a Hades Hound, aren’t you? You have a destiny to fulfill.”

“About that,” my partner finally spoke up, drifting closer to sit on the edge of my desk, the bustle of the bullpen returning as the evening’s teams began to arrive, stares from a few making me squirm in my chair. “Our little friend here is an excom.”

Oh, dear. Excommunicated puppies weren’t entirely rare, but they weren’t that common, either. How heartbreaking for him. “I’m so sorry,” I said to the mastiff.

He simply nodded. “I failed my testing,” he said, as though that bit of information was just fact and hadn’t dictated the rest of his life. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Okay, this wasn’t how my evening was supposed to go. I’d planned to head home with case files and do some further research. Instead, it seemed I was going to be gluing my heart back together over a bottle of wine.

“I just wasn’t good enough,” the puppy said in his squeaky, little boy voice that belied the gigantic dog he’d become in less than a year. Which meant he couldn’t have been more than a month old. So much pressure to put a puppy under.

“Now, now,” Elias said, reaching down to ruffle the dog’s ears. “None of that, my little friend. Not every Hound puppy is meant to be a Hades Hound.”

“I know,” the mastiff said, “but no one wanted me.” Dear Hera and legion, his matter-of-factness was going to destroy me. “My handlers said I was too nice to be a guard and not fast enough to be a chaser.” So, no private security for him or work with Hermes teams hunting smugglers and fugitives. He perked a little. “But Elias said maybe I’d be good at helping you, Mother.”

Yikes. When my partner met my eyes again, his held a question that had me wanting to throttle him all over again. “And I’m not the only one,” Elias said. “Who came to visit you this morning?”

The puppy wriggled all over again, letting out a soft and happy yip. “Sentinel Drake,” he said. “She’s so nice!” He turned in a quick circle before licking his chops. “When Elias told her about me, she came to visit, and she even scratched my ears!”

I could tell why this puppy hadn’t fit into Hades. Where had his sweet nature come from? I’d met a few before their induction into the program, and they’d seemed as grim and focused as their older counterparts. This one, however, had an infectious kindness and adorable air that would have eliminated him from Hades just on temperament alone.

“You met my grandmother,” I said. Arimanthia Drake, as Sentinel of Guild Hades, had overview of the Hound program. But what would make her personally visit the kennels? I had a guess, of course, because if there was anyone who she adored more than her only granddaughter (yes, me), it was my irreverent and bratty partner.

Argh.

“The Sentinel is your granddam?” The puppy did another spin, panting his happiness. “She said she thought Elias was right and that you would make a good mother for me.”

So, I had the two of them ganging up on me. I sighed as I sat back, shaking my head at Elias who chuckled.

Inquisitor Drake. I sat up a little straighter at the touch of another mind on mine.

Lead Ortos, I sent back. My boss’ mental voice had the rough edge of his stone giant heritage, and the weight of it, too, though I’d learned to brace myself for the ponderous contact. I knew Lorne Ortos did his best not to pummel others with his mind and preferred to call for that reason, but our department had switched to cellphones and his fingers just weren’t built for such delicate equipment.

Case, he grunted as my computer chimed, the file appearing on my screen. I waved my hand at it, opening the dossier as he went on. I know you’re off shift, so I’ll hand it off if you prefer. But the quartermaster requested you personally.

I’d had dealings with the dockyard before and knowing the touchy nature of the kelpie quartermaster who ran our docking facilities in New York’s Port Authority. Happy to take it, sir. I was already scanning the file, Elias clearly in on the conversation because he leaned in to read it with me while Ortos went on.

Keep me posted. He cut himself off, and I sighed despite myself, the relief from his mind’s weight always a surprise.

“Murder,” Elias said with a wink and a saucy grin. “My favorite.”

I stood immediately, reaching for my coat, power winging it to me from the rack by the door. Only to pause with one arm in the sleeve, the quietly patient and yet eager puppy at my feet apparently not going anywhere. His hopeful expression was going to be my undoing, even more so when Elias shrugged into his rumpled overcoat.

“Can’t leave him here,” he said.

“Fine,” I snapped, “but I’m driving. And you,” I pointed a finger at the mastiff, “are going to stay in the car.”

He yipped his happiness but fell in line, pacing next to me, staring lovingly up at me while I strode out to more than a few grins from my coworkers and a steady and irritating smirk from my partner.

Seriously.

***

Chapter Two

New York was still decked out for the human holidays, though their New Year’s Eve was already several days behind us. I’d attended a party at the request of an old friend who’d left our life for that of the humans and their blissful ignorance about the paranormal, only to find I was expected to provide a resolution to the rest of the attendees. I’d chosen something innocuous, or so I thought, though everyone at the party seemed enthusiastic about my quick decision.

“I’m going to streamline my life,” I said. “Cut out anything superfluous.” One glance in the back seat and I knew that call was already being challenged. I had no desire to play mommy to a Hound puppy. What had Grandmother Arimanthia been thinking? Okay, so the fact I was pushing forty and unmarried, without children, while my decision was a bone of contention in my family. The fact my older brother was the star of the show with a talented wife, a career custom designed by my parents and three kids who would be epic one day in their own right took some of the pressure off, but not all. I’d spent Solstice evening deflecting questions about my goals yet again. Bad enough I had Mom after me to leave Guild Artemis and join her as her aide on the North American Council. Dad’s recent suggestion I come on board Nemesis as an assistant defender had me defensive during the entire Solstice celebration, thank you. Only Grandmother had seemed to hold off trying to tell me who to be and how to be her, keeping it to a minimum, at least.

Until this.

Maybe that was where the resolution came from. Whatever the case, the man seated next to me had never betrayed me that way before. Elias knew better. I was too busy with work, dedicated to my chosen field as much as he was. We’d had our share of talks about my family and their lack of enthusiasm for my career choices. What was he thinking?

As for my grandmother, she and I were going to have a conversation over a mastiff puppy, even if I was forced to leave the darling sweetheart on her front porch.

Darn it.

***

I crouched over the body, doing my best not to inhale the scent of rotting fish emanating from the corpse. Merfolk had a particular aroma even within moments of death reminiscent of someone’s week-old catch someone left out in the sun. I wasn’t here to judge Captain Martin Underwave for his race’s death scent, however, not when it was obvious to me that he’d been a victim of foul play.

Sound-based attack, Caprice sent, the white half of the raven pair who’d decided to share my life clicking her beak out loud while her mental voice went on. Boiled his blood in his body.

High resonance, her mate, Conscio, agreed, glottal gronks soft but audible where he perched on the desk overlooking the dead body, light shining on his glossy, black feathers. Magic, no doubt. His beak dipped into his wing a moment, reflections of green and blue settling when he finally shook his head and puffed out his throat, black eye glistening. Murder.

Confirmed, Caprice sent, fluttering her crystal white wings a moment, head cocking to the side, eye as black as her mate’s fixed on me now. Now, are you going to tell us what that is, her beak dipped toward the mastiff puppy sitting at attention and with intense focus on me a few feet away, or are we going to have to peck it out of you?

Later, I sent, trying not to sigh in my head. The ravens had been with me for several years since I’d rescued them from the sorcerer who’d instigated their transformation. They’d chosen to stay with me, to assist me in my job as inquisitor and were always helpful. The fact I had, as yet, to come up with an explanation for the Hound puppy wasn’t lost on me, but I couldn’t very well just leave the poor thing in the car and besides, his nose might come in helpful. It was the least I could do since I was going to return him to the kennel, right?

I was a sucker of the highest order.

If you say so, Conscio sent, more guttural ticks escaping him.

The whelp’s presence has to be on Elias, Caprice sent.

I nodded without speaking to either of them, looking up at my partner with a wry twist to my lips because the ravens knew him as well as I did by now. He stood innocently enough near the door to the captain’s berth, glancing my way, though the trembling man next to him stared at my partner like the hunter was his only lifeline.

“Chief,” I said, standing from my crouch, ignoring the puppy who shifted positions, licking his lips but staying silent. It had been our agreement for his presence, one the mastiff was taking very seriously, it seemed, despite his obviously eager nature. “You found Captain Underwave?”

The Calliope’s chief mate bobbed a nod at me, lean face tight, small and wiry body almost childlike in his unofficial uniform despite his face’s age, the transport ship’s private status not requiring the spic-and-span attire I was used to on formal vessels. Still, I’d noted everyone we’d encountered seemed to have an affinity for knit sweaters and hats and heavy boots over worn blue coveralls. “Yes, ma’am,” he said in a soft tenor that shook a little but didn’t crack. I recognized his human half but was instantly wary of the other part of his heritage since it was obvious to me from his overlarge eyes, bird-like delicate stature and the timbre of his voice he had enough siren in him to make him a suspect. He must have known it, too, because he immediately shook his head. “I didn’t kill him, I swear.”

I pointed at the captain, scaled face twisted in his death-throes, milky eyes staring upward, body twisted inside his own ship’s attire. “You recognize the signs of a magical sound attack, then?”

Chief Mate Arian Miltos swallowed hard and nodded, but didn’t respond, only because we were suddenly joined by another crewmember who panted his way to a halt at the door, gasping as he took in the scene.

“The lads woke me,” the man said, florid with his heavy red hair and beard in a messy halo around him, green eyes narrowing at the sight of his dead captain on the floor. “Poseidon preserve us.” He crossed himself, an odd action for a person of paranormal background, eyes meeting mine. “Me ma was human,” he said in his heavy Irish accent. “Catholic. Old habit.”

I shrugged. “You’re a banshee,” I said then, now with two sound-based personages on board with the ability to use their power to kill the captain. So much for this being a simple case.

“Boatswain Fergus O’Hannah,” he said. Then paused, eyes widening as his gaze fell to the captain. “Why do ye ask?”

Again, no response was forthcoming, though on my part this time, due to an interruption. I heard the wailing in the distance and noted it closing in on us. It wasn’t until O’Hannah dropped his question, however, that the cause of that increasing sound of distress appeared next to the boatswain, now at full volume.

The merwoman’s scaled skin had flushed deep purple, her bulging eyes red from weeping. When the two sailors attempted to stop her, she pushed them off and threw herself into the room. I had to act fast to keep her from falling on the body, Elias smirking at me while I threatened his life with the frown of fury on my face.

“My Martin!” Her sobbing made her almost impossible to understand, the weight of her body far more intense than had she been another race. Merpeople’s physical density always surprised me, though this was the first time I’d been under the near dead weight of one in the throes of grief. “Not my Martin!”

I guided her toward the bench seat at the far end of the room, sitting her down and taking her hands. It was obvious from the ring on her finger—and the matching one on the corpse—that this was his wife, so I addressed her accordingly.

“Mrs. Underwave,” I said.

“Coral,” she sniffled, still weeping but seeming to pull herself together. She kept glancing at the body and then back to me as though she couldn’t tear her eyes away even while being unable to bear the sight. “What happened to my husband?”

“I’m Inquisitor Drake,” I said, before nodding at Elias. “My partner, Hunter Barrow. We’re going to find out for you.”

The woman sobbed softly then nodded, her heavy, green-tinted hair falling around her in seaweed-like waves, her color returning to the pale bluish pink of her race, hands clutching at me with the clammy and rough texture of someone of the water. “Thank you, Inquisitor,” she said. “This is horrible. Who would want to kill my Martin?”

I happened to be looking at the chief and boatswain at the moment she asked and though I didn’t have a definitive answer, the flicker of guilt and unhappiness that crossed both men’s faces had me curious.

Mother. His mental contact surprised me enough that I looked up, the puppy shifting from one foot to the other and only then did I notice his distress. I’m sorry, I know I promised. But Mother?

What is it? I didn’t have time to take him off the ship if he needed to relieve himself, but maybe one of the crew would do it for me?

The body smells, Mother. The mastiff let out a low moan and licked his chops.

I know, I sent back, not meaning to be impatient. He wasn’t cut out for this kind of work, not at his age.

There’s something wrong with how he smells. The puppy stood then sat again, obviously anxious and unsure. His head turned, nose pointing out the door. It’s coming from out there, Mother. The wrongness. Please, can I find out where it’s coming from?

I sat back, releasing the widow’s hands, frowning now. What does it smell like?

I don’t know, the puppy admitted. But it’s wrong and it’s all over him and this ship.

I stood, crossing to the mastiff who shivered as he looked up at me from his downcast gaze, ears low, tail barely moving as he hunched himself smaller and smaller as I drew close. I crouched next to him and ruffled his ears, feeling his anxiety lessen. It’s okay, I sent. Why don’t you show me?

That had him relaxing fully, standing and padding off on his giant feet, all legs and wagging tail. I met Elias’ eyes on the way by, making room for the ME as the coroner’s team finally arrived, the puppy waiting patiently for me at the corner.

“He thinks he has something,” I said in a low voice.

“He might be excom, but he is a Hound,” Elias shrugged. “You check it out and I’ll keep asking questions.”

He didn’t have to be so smug about it. But as I moved to leave, both the chief and boatswain reacted.

“You can’t just wander around the ship,” O’Hannah blurted. His gaze flickered over my shoulder before returning to me. Why was he looking at the widow?

“That’s right,” Miltos said. “Don’t you need a warrant or something?”

“Your captain was murdered,” I said. Left it at that for a long moment before they both exchanged a nervous look. “You’d think you two would want us to resolve the matter quickly.”

“I want it resolved.” Coral Underwave was on her feet and pushing her way into the corridor beside me, glaring at the two men who seemed even more nervous with her in their proximity. “This is my ship, Inquisitor Drake. My family owns it.” That was good information to have and told me exactly why both sailors seemed intensely nervous all of a sudden. “If someone hurt my husband, I want to know who and why.” She gestured at the door, now showing more anger than grief, though I knew the two could be interchangeable when it came to shock. “Where are we going?”

This way, Mother. I followed the puppy, the crew who’d gathered to gossip and whisper parting ahead of him and me and it wasn’t until we turned a corner I looked back and realized Elias was herding the chief and boatswain ahead of him, Coral on my heels.

By the time we descended to the main deck and then down into the cargo hold, the night-time sea air crisp with winter chill turning to the dank scent of rust and fuel, the puppy had lost his anxiety and had, instead, become focused and attention-driven, confidence so acute that when he finally stopped at the bottom of the metal staircase, nose in the air, he looked far older and more distinguished than he had since we’d met.

This way. His voice had even dropped from the sweet boyish tone to a more mature command, though still with his youth intact. I did as he said, in a bit of wonder, to be honest, the sound of wings flapping overhead drawing my gaze up.

What’s he after? Conscio’s irritated tone had me smiling.

The whelp better not be wasting our time, Caprice sent.

I let them have their mutual griping as the mastiff led me with unerring decisiveness through the dimly lit and echoing hold. Tall containers marked with numbers and letters towered over us, though my guide didn’t show a hint of hesitation as he wound his way through the corridors made of the cargo, the quiet dripping of condensation and the dull ringing of our footfalls heavy in the enclosed space. It was almost creepy, the lapping of water on the hull growing louder as we reached the back end of the hold near the port side, a small puddle making my footfall splash.

Here, the puppy said, planting himself on his haunches next to a cargo container. I looked up at the red and rust-colored metal box, the white-painted identifier peeling and cracked. The mastiff leaned up and touched the chain holding the doors closed with the tip of his nose. This one, Mother. Something’s not right in this one.

We don’t have a warrant, I sent to Elias as I whipped out my phone and immediately made the request of the only person who I knew could grant me one on the spot. My partner was already moving, hand sliding over the lock while both the boatswain and the chief spluttered their protests. This time, Coral Underwave was on their side.

“That cargo doesn’t belong to us,” the merwoman said, hesitating at last. “We’re merely transporting it.”

“You are legally responsible for the contents from loading to unloading,” I told her.

“The captain is,” she said before blinking like she just realized what she’d said. Her tears had dried up by now and she was facing liability she wasn’t prepared for. “He’s dead.” She turned then and pointed at Miltos while the chief mate turned paler than milk. “That makes him responsible.”

His spluttering ended in a horrible little sound in the back of his throat. “Warrant,” he squeaked.

“But it was already open,” my partner said with a wink, turning to show the trio that the lock was disengaged. I knew better than to test for magic. Elias was far too careful to leave evidence behind but had obviously taken advantage of the situation’s distracting conversation to do the deed. “And I’m sure I hear someone in there, asking for help. Don’t you, George?” He was already pulling the chain free while I stifled my inward sigh and let him do what he wanted. Not that I could stop him. Though, I was sure one of these days his fast-and-loose attitude toward our jobs wouldn’t end well for either of us.

My phone hummed and the arriving message from my grandmother had me nodding to my partner. Warrant approved, Arimanthia sent. Tell Elias that was the last time I make that call to cover for his impulsiveness. Again, like that would help. How’s the baby?

I didn’t reply to that question. That was a conversation for another time. I turned and showed the visibly panicking temporary captain the message. “Direct from the Sentinel of Nemesis himself,” I said. Good thing my grandmother had him on speed dial. “Now, let’s see what’s inside.”

The doors creaked as they opened, a ball of light forming over my hand as I sent magic winging inside to illuminate the interior. It drifted over a collection of boxes, my partner striding inside to open each of them with his own power crackling.

It was quickly obvious, however, that the contents were nothing short of innocuous. “Stuffed animals,” I said, my partner tossing a few aside, now visibly disgusted. I looked down at the puppy who stared into the container without a hint of doubt.

“You see?” The boatswain wiped at his forehead with a scrap of cloth, the chief’s face deathly white but neither backing down. “There’s nothing. Shouldn’t we focus on the captain?”

“Agreed,” Coral said. “This fishing expedition isn’t helping you find out who killed my husband.”

Their reactions had me concerned, but they were dealing with a death. Was I overreacting?

I crouched next to the puppy who met my eyes with his shining and confident.

There’s nothing here, I sent as gently as I could, not wanting him to feel my disappointment.

There is, he sent back, standing and pacing to the back of the container, the light of my magic casting his shadow in a tall, frightening shade over the contents. Here, Mother. This is the source of the smell.

Elias shrugged at me and headed for the puppy, grunting as his magic shifted the boxes until the one in question was revealed. Someone buried it deeply, tried to hide it, shoved into the back corner under everything else. Certainly seemed suspicious. Elias’ power floated the box in question out into the cargo area, free of the container, while the boatswain suddenly spun and tried to bolt. My power grasped him and held him in place since I’d already been prepared for such an event, while the chief stared at me with huge, terrified eyes.

“I had nothing to do with it,” Miltos blurted.

“Liar!” O’Hannah screamed at him where he stood frozen in my power.

The top of the box cracked under Elias’ magic, green power sizzling. That was mermagic, and from the damage to the surface of the box, it had already been opened, the original seal broken. Whoever had replaced the seal spelled to keep it from opening by accident. The captain? Had to be. But why hide what was inside?

The moment the lid flipped back, I caught my breath, chest tight and blood pressure pounding in my ears because I could smell it now, too. And I knew just what it was the captain chose to disguise with his magic.

“Selkie hides,” Elias said in deep disgust, the puppy whining softly at his feet.

Something smells fishy, the mastiff sent.

“Illegal trade in sentient beings is an instant life sentence,” I said, turning to both men, doing nothing to hide my disgust while Coral Underwave covered her mouth with both hands and stared in shock and horror. “And hunting those beings is a capital crime.”

“My ship!” She was suddenly more worried about her livelihood than her husband, but I hardly blamed her.

“Defender,” the boatswain croaked.

“Defender,” the chief wailed.

“Good idea,” I said. “Mrs. Underwave, you might want to call your own representative. Looks like you’re all going to need one.”

***

Chapter Three

I stood outside the small office we’d chosen for containment while we waited for a pair of defenders to show, neither of the two sailors saying anything further since the puppy uncovered the contraband.

“You can’t think my husband had anything to do with this.” Coral Underwave stood off to one side with a backup team from Artemis who’d arrived to assist, her demand aimed at me. “This has to have been one of his crew.”

He smelled just like the sadness in the box, the puppy said, his voice full of sorrow. Then paused, repeating himself as he looked up at me. Mother, something smells fishy, but different. Like magic but wrong somehow. Similar to the sad box but… older? His adorable nose wrinkled, and he sneezed once.

I’d already noted the mermagic on the box, so his find was understandable. “We’re still investigating,” I said, turning to address my backup. “Can you please take Mrs. Underwave somewhere and get her a green tea or saltwater?”

The hunter of the team nodded and guided her away, the inquisitor following while I refocused. They were young enough and new enough that I hadn’t learned their names yet, but I’d make an effort later. Right now, I had a case to consider as Elias nodded toward the far end of the corridor.

I joined him, the ravens perching on a stair rail, the puppy at my feet, while my partner leaned into the wall behind him, hands in the pockets of his rumpled overcoat.

“The captain could have been in on it,” he said. “You felt that magic?”

“Possibly,” I said. “It was merpower that sealed the box. But it was open already, then closed again. He clearly had some interaction with it. And his wife’s family owns the ship.”

“He could have been killed for his share,” Conscio said while Caprice preened his wing.

“Or tried to kill the others for more,” his mate said, her cynical suggestion just as biting as his, “and was taken out by one of his partners.”

“Or,” I said, “he discovered the contraband and was going to report it. Resealed it in a panic to protect it.” And himself, more likely. How long had the trade been going on? Criminal pelt sales, especially for endangered sentient races, carried on despite crackdowns on such activities. There was a time not so long ago (I’m ashamed to admit) when hunting such species—like werewolves, trolls and yes, selkies—drove such races to the brink of extinction. Only with the enactment of the Sentient Species Act fifty years ago did those races become protected by our system. The fact it took so long to bring the force of our law to bear to save them from hunting was a lingering shame I took very seriously. I wanted to believe Captain Underwave had tried to do the right thing, but the truth was, many like him turned a blind eye to what amounted to murder when profit was involved, if not outright participation.

I looked down at the puppy who waited with patience for me to speak to him. “How did you smell it through the magic?” I’d examined the box, felt the traces of the original spell that hid the contents. The containment had been so precise it was obvious to me it was far from the first time it had been used for such deception. Which again led me to wonder how the captain knew about it if he wasn’t in on it. Then again, why open it in the first place?

“It was faint but horrible.” The mastiff wiped at his nose with one paw as though never to be free of the scent. Obviously, the captain’s access to the pelts had given the puppy all the trace he needed. Which again begged the question—why open the box the first time? It had me leaning toward the captain uncovering the illegal items and doing his best to cover his tracks before he could report the contraband. “I never want to smell that again, Mother.”

“Every scenario is a distinct possibility,” Elias said. “What do we know about O’Hannah and Miltos?”

I quickly checked my phone, calling up the database, magic winging out across the network created by humans to access our files faster and with more efficiency than they could have imagined possible. “Arian Miltos has been on the Calliope for a year,” I said. “Hmm, this is interesting. He has debt, a lot of it, and there’s an arrest here for illegal gambling.”

“Excellent motive to move illegal items,” Elias said. He didn’t bother with his own search. He always preferred to have me do it, said his place was hunting people in the real world while my talents lay in the more cerebral realm. An excuse, as far as I was concerned because my partner was brilliant enough to find his own information, but I didn’t mind.

“And Fergus O’Hannah was implicated in a previous smuggling charge in Ireland before he relocated to New York and started on Calliope eight months ago.”

“Why was he released?” I looked up from the Artemis report at Elias’ irritated question.

“Lack of evidence,” I said, feeling my partner’s frustration.

“So, both of them have either a reason to move contraband or a possible history,” Elias said. “What about Captain Underwave?”

“Nothing,” I said with a frown. “Squeaky clean, runs a tight ship. He’s been skipper of the Calliope for ten years, not a single infraction.”

“Either very good at hiding his activities,” Elias said, “or duped by his crew.” From the dull judgment in his voice, I could guess which way my partner was leaning. I wasn’t so sure.

“What about Mrs. Underwave?” I looked into her as well while I spoke. “Her family owns the ship, after all. She and her husband could have been behind the whole smuggling operation.” But when I looked into Coral Underwave, nothing showed on her, either. Her mother’s family owned the vessel, but aside from a few incidents of lost cargo claims due to storms and the occasional maritime infraction, the ten-vessel corporation that owned Calliope came up clean. I fired off an inquiry anyway just in case and left it to process while the black raven spoke.

“Let’s consider,” Conscio said while he clicked a few times before going on, “the method of death.”

“Sonic magic,” Caprice said. “Both a banshee and siren could easily deliver such an attack.”

“ME confirmed siren,” Elias said before shrugging. “Sorry, thought I mentioned it.”

I adored my partner, but he made me want to shake him sometimes.

“Both men are logged with their race registries,” I said, checking my files. I put my phone away, turning. “But if it was siren magic, that puts Miltos front and center.”

“Dumb to use your power that way,” Elias said.

True enough. “Maybe he thought he could disguise it.” I hadn’t been able to solidly identify the power myself, so perhaps Miltos had some means to hide what he’d done. Or acted out of fear and couldn’t cover it up. “I’m going to take another look at the captain’s cabin now that the body is gone. We might have missed something.”

“I want to have a look around the ship,” Elias said, “talk to the crew.”

“We’ll come with you,” Caprice said.

“Can I come with you?” This conversation was the first time the puppy had spoken out loud since the car and his promise to stay quiet and out of the way.

I almost said no and sent him with Elias, since I preferred to work alone and the other three knew it. Except the mastiff had proven himself, hadn’t he?

“Fine,” I said, drawing a clacking and gronking from the two ravens as they expressed their surprise. “But remember our deal.”

I won’t fail you, Mother, the puppy sent.

Oh, dear.

***

Chapter 4

I stood on the threshold of the cabin, hands in the pockets of my wool coat, drawing in magic and letting it out in a soft whisper of power. Sometimes a necromantic casting could pull out details of death, especially in the case of murder. Such activity left an undeniable imprint on the very fabric of time and space. However, it was obvious to me the moment my power hit the room, whatever sonic attack had killed the captain was designed not just to end his life but mask the killer and the event. I’d suspected as much since no one heard a thing—or said they didn’t. The volume of the assault would have been immense and audible for at least a few decks. That meant the murderer had created a bubble around the sound that contained it to the cabin. Doing so had literally erased any ability I had to access the event by shredding the very memory of it from the items in the room, not to mention the ether.

It feels weird here, the puppy sent.

“That’s the sonics,” I said. “Wiped everything.” Did Miltos have the ability to disguise his power that well? Impressive, if so, but still stupid. He had to know it would come out eventually. Though if he had acted on impulse or to protect himself, he might not have thought things through sufficiently before acting.

Why then did this feel more premeditated and planned than impulsive? I frowned into the quiet, struggling to believe such a carefully constructed attack could have been done without forethought and planning. Still, the chief was the only registered siren on board.

That struck me, of course, because could it have been possible for an unregistered person of his race to have planned this whole thing? I sent off a query to Artemis’ research team to look into the entire crew before tucking my phone away again. If magic couldn’t give me what I needed, maybe there were clues of the mundane variety that could tell me where to turn next.

The captain’s desk held manifests and other paperwork, the drawers tidy and his laptop screen well organized. I didn’t find a single thing on the computer that would lead me to suspect him, nor in his private possessions. I examined a few photos, one of him and Coral Underwave smiling and waving from the deck of what had to be the Calliope, setting aside the silver frame and turning to look over the room again. Only then did I note the painting over the bench seat where I’d comforted the widow, noting the big man on the deck of ship holding something that seemed familiar. I took a picture and uploaded it to the magical stream for query before admitting defeat.

“There’s nothing else here.” I let out a long breath of air. “Whoever killed the captain either planned for this or knew exactly how to mask their identity.”

The puppy shuffled his feet, yawning hugely before snuffling a little. Something still feels old, sad fishy, he sent.

The scent of the captain’s death lingered which had my stomach roiling in agreement.

“Inquisitor Drake?” I turned to find the young hunter from the other team standing at the door, her brown eyes a little wide but her demeanor professional. “Mr. O’Hannah wants to talk to you.”

I nodded immediately, offering a little smile. The young woman’s reaction was typical, not because of my spectacular abilities, but due to my family and lineage. I was accustomed to being treated a bit differently at first, part of the reason I hesitated sometimes to get to know my colleagues until I knew for sure their intentions. “Coming,” I said, gesturing for the puppy to join me.

He hesitated but did as I asked, following on his big, quiet feet, down the corridor and to the office where I noted the chief was now alone, Fergus O’Hannah nowhere to be seen.

“He’s with his defender,” the hunter said. “And my partner.”

“Mr. Miltos,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

I thought he looked childlike and vulnerable before. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple jumping up and down, beakish nose quivering. “I didn’t kill the captain,” he said. “I swear to you.”

“But you are a smuggler,” I said.

“O’Hannah is going to try to pin this on me.” His tenor voice shook with panic, the barest hint of his siren power audible, making me wince and the puppy at my feet whine. “Sorry,” he blurted, wiping at his mouth with one shaking hand.

“Don’t make me muzzle you,” I said.

He shook his head with near violent reaction. “I swear, I didn’t kill anyone. But yes, I was part of the smuggling ring. So is O’Hannah. You can’t believe a thing he says. He’s going to pin everything on me. The boss told him to, I know it.”

“The boss?” So, was Captain Underwave part of the ring after all? “The captain?”

But Miltos’ reaction had me doubting. “The boss will kill me,” he whispered then. “I can’t.” He choked on the words as though they’d sealed off his throat. “You don’t understand.”

“Try me,” I said. “It will go easier on you if you tell me everything.”

“Shut up, ye prat.” The boatswain’s hissing fury cut off my conversation, his arrival with a young and equally nervous defender, the inquisitor on their heels, making the chief—his superior, at least in name, but not in status, obviously—shudder and start to sob. O’Hannah had obviously been using both big hands on the mass that covered his head and face, every bit of it sticking out in a vibrating bush of anxiety and bright red tension. He met my eyes, his own full of terror but resolved. “We got naught to say to ye.” His Irish accent and colloquialisms had increased with his tension, making him almost impossible to decipher.

“We’re arresting you both,” I said, waving off the defender’s attempt at protest. “For smuggling. We’ll sort out the murder once you realize just how much trouble it is you’re in.”

I stepped back and allowed the inquisitor and hunter to lead them out, the defender trailing after them, while I scowled at their retreat.

What will happen to them, Mother? The puppy’s soft question had me sighing.

“Life in prison with magic erasure of their personalities and all proceeds of their labors going to the families affected by their smuggling.” It was their best-case scenario. “Or, if they are found guilty of the murder of those whose pelts they smuggled, death.” Though I always thought the release of dying far too lenient.

Good, the mastiff puppy sent. They’re not nice people. He hitched a little breath, yawning again. Can I go to the car? He looked up at me, blinking. I’m tired, Mother. This was fun, but I think it’s best if I let you finish. You’re so good at what you do, you don’t need me anyway.

He really was adorable. Straight there, I sent. We’ll talk in a bit, okay? Why did that last sentence make me choke up a little? He had to go back to the kennels. Surely there was someone else more suited to being his caregiver.

The puppy head-butted me and then grinned up at me with his tongue lolling out. I can’t wait to get big, he sent, so I can work every case with you. He paused one more moment before letting out a little yip. Mother, there was something else, remember?

Well, he’d proven himself the first time. What was that?

He cocked his head to one side. Something feels fishy, Mother. Not smells, like magic fishy. Old and sad magic. Does that make sense?

He’d already mentioned that earlier, all explainable, as far as I was concerned. So I let it pass. Go get some sleep, I sent.

I watched him go, ambling his way down the corridor and to the corner, while I thought about what he’d said. Something smelled fishy. Totally. The captain’s death meant that scent lingered. I could still smell it myself. The puppy’s senses must have been overwhelmed.

No, they hadn’t been. He’d been able to sort out many scents. And he’d said felt fishy. Old, sad magic. The dead selkies? He was pretty young, so what constituted old to him? I almost reached out to him, mind turning over what he said. Because did he refer to an actual odor? Or did he mean something felt off?

My phone vibrated, drawing my attention, and had me skimming the message before I froze and read it again, slowly and carefully. That had me scrambling with shaking fingers to do a fast search.

Mother, the puppy’s voice interrupted, I found the fishy feeling! He paused. Mother, I was right. It’s sad magic like the box, but older. Huh. There’s a song with it. I couldn’t breathe suddenly, reaching out for him, terrified I knew what he’d found and unable to protect him. Wait, the fishy feeling is separate from it—

My chest contracted, heart thudding painfully. Go to the car!

But it’s right—his mental touch vanished. But not before a soft yip of surprise and a hit of pain crushed my hope he’d done as I said. That’s how I found myself spinning and racing for the deck, my magic seeking a specific target and leading me along as I ran. I stopped at last at the edge of the railing where a faint smear left a trail down the side of the ship, and I knew.

I knew who the boss was, who was behind the smuggling and who killed Martin Underwave.

***

Chapter 5

“You should have just left it alone.” I spun at the sound of her voice, turning to find Coral emerging from the shadows, a bulky gun-shaped object in her hand. The other clutched the scruff of my mastiff (my?), the puppy silent and limp in her grasp. Rage burst like a popping bubble inside me at the sight of him dangling from her horrible control, but I had to keep calm if I was going to save him.

Save us both.

“You know that weapon is illegal.” I jabbed a finger at the very thing in her hands, the identical item I’d seen in the painting in her husband’s cabin. I knew I’d recognized it but couldn’t place it, the resulting response finally returned from my search of the image as shocking as it was horrifying. The puppy’s fishy feeling had been Coral, but the sad magic?

That weapon.

Coral Underwave gestured at me with it, finger on the small, flat trigger under the curved box that looked far too much like someone’s throat. “My grandfather gave it to me,” she snarled. “It’s my birthright.”

“It’s the stolen voice box of a siren,” I said, feeling bile rise. “Your grandfather was a murderer.”

“He was a hunter,” she shot back, the magical weapon unwavering in her hand. “Our family’s legacy was his greatest accomplishment.” She waved the gun around. “This ship is named for him.” The reason his image hung in the captain’s cabin and my only warning.

A warning I was too late to understand.

Wait, was she actually proud of what she held? “Gorgon Calliope murdered other races for profit,” I said, showing her the message I’d received. Yes, her mother’s family were into shipping but her father’s… they were into cargo of the most distasteful variety imaginable.

“Murder!” Spittle flew from her lips as she lost herself in her own rage, though from the muffled tone of her voice that she’d activated the bubble of sonic muffling that kept her weapon from allowing sound to escape its attack. That meant she planned to use it on me any second now. I had to get it out of her grasp, but even mental calls couldn’t escape the spell. Trust me, I tried and failed, as she went on. “You murdered him!”

Well, not me personally, but I understood her meaning. “He refused to stop hunting fellow beings,” I said. “The Council had no choice but to execute him.” I drew a breath, decided to push her. “Your husband wasn’t part of this, was he? But he suspected.” She flinched. “He knew about your grandfather, must have suspected you were smuggling.”

“He was a fool,” she said. “I offered him everything, my whole family did.”

“You snuck on board earlier tonight, just after the ship docked, and killed him.” I let her process that while the arm holding the puppy dropped. Merpeople were disproportionately strong, but even her strength must have been taxed holding the mastiff aloft for so long. That gave me hope she might let him go if I could keep her focused on me and her story. “But why?”

“He called me from offshore,” she said. “He’d found something in the manifest that made him go looking and uncovered the cargo, unsealed it. He was panicking, terrified, asked me what to do.” She shook her head, exhaling heavily. “He didn’t know it was me.”

“You told him to reseal the box,” I said.

“I resealed it,” she snapped. “After I killed that fool. He would have gotten us both wiped and imprisoned. My family was at stake.” Coral almost sounded like she wanted me to understand before she seemed to realize her pleading fell on the wrong set of ears. “It doesn’t matter. Miltos will go down for the murder and no one will ever find you or this.” She shook the limp puppy. “I lost my cargo this time, but there will be more.”

She was truly evil. “You won’t get away with this,” I said.

Coral’s shaking turned to deadly stillness as she raised the siren’s gun high enough that I could stare down the barrel. “I already have,” she said. “Get off my ship.” And pulled the trigger.

Or, tried to. The moment she spit out her last syllable, the puppy in her grip twisted, teeth sinking into her wrist, making her cry out in surprise. As she looked down, her weapon hand twitched, the blast of sonic magic hurtling over my shoulder and dissipating as it exited the protective bubble.

Coral’s shriek echoed now that the weapon had been discharged as she drew back her other hand and heaved the wriggling puppy over the rail and into the darkness.

She was already racing for the edge herself, her intent to go in and swim away obvious despite my shock and horror at what she’d done. I lunged for her, instincts taking over, catching her tail as she transformed. She lashed violently to try to force me to let go, the power of her fins whipping me sideways into the hull of the ship and breaking my grasp.

ELIAS! The water engulfed me in its freezing embrace as I plunged beneath the surface with my arms outstretched, body throbbing from the impact but magic reaching for the small soul who I feared for so much. I felt my partner’s panic, the ravens and their imminent arrival, but none of that mattered. Not until his fuzzy paws met mine, the puppy rising to the surface to bob at my side, heat radiating from me to engulf both of us and warm the water surrounding us so we didn’t go into shock. To my surprise, he spit out something that floated between us, the iridescence shining in the light coming from the ship overhead, the sounds of shouting as people rushed to our aid lost in the moment as the mastiff’s mind touched mine without a hint of fear.

I told you, he sent. Fishy.

I knew exactly who that scrap of a tail belonged to.

***

Chapter 6

She wasn’t hard to catch, surprisingly, the ravens tracking her to the harbor wall and the ladder leading to the dock. Elias was waiting for Coral Underwave as she emerged, dripping and furious, from the cold water. By the time he had her in the back of the van with O’Hannah and Miltos, I’d shed the freezing liquid from my person and clothing, the proudly prancing puppy at my side no longer tired, apparently, but very pleased with himself and seemingly none the worse for his mishandling.

“We didn’t tell them anything,” Miltos blubbered while Coral snarled at him.

“Shut up, you idiot.” She met my eyes with her own full of spite. “You have nothing on me.” The weapon was gone, and while I knew she’d had it when she’d jumped in the harbor, she was confident enough in her statement she must have destroyed it beyond recovery.

“She’s the boss,” O’Hannah blurted then, shrinking back from the tiny woman. It would have been funny to see such a burly man so terrified of a petite mermaid if I didn’t know better. “She’s behind everything.”

“I know,” I said. “I don’t need the siren’s gun,” I told her then. “You confessed to an inquisitor, Mrs. Underwave. The imprint of your confession is all the proof I need.” She snarled at me, feral and furious. “Your grandfather isn’t the only person who’s going to pay with his life.”

“All he had to do was mind his own business and sail his stupid boat.” It took me a moment to realize she was talking about her husband. She spit that at me. “Dead weight, all of them.” She shot the two men huddled behind her furious looks before she hunched inside her wet clothing. “I’m done talking.”

“So am I.” I waved to the inquisitor to close the van doors and stepped back, Elias joining me as the other team drove off.

“Nice job,” my partner said. “How did you figure it out?”

I looked down at the puppy who wriggled in delight. “She smelled fishy,” I said.

The mastiff barked once in joy.

***

I parked outside Hades headquarters, turning off the car but not exiting just yet, looking in my rear-view mirror at the sleeping puppy in the backseat. He twitched a little, soft yips escaping as his feet scrabbled, clear sign he chased something in his dreams. He’d passed out almost immediately after I’d pulled away from the port, innocent and trusting while I argued with myself and struggled with guilt as I turned my car toward Hades instead of home.

I couldn’t keep him. I didn’t have time for a puppy. And while I adored him already, the idea of keeping him was utterly ridiculous.

Wasn’t it?

He woke with a start, sitting up and blinking at me, big ears flopping. They’d dock them if I took him back, maybe give him to someone who wanted him for security but unable to qualify for an excom that fit the bill. Not that Hades would send him to a bad or abusive situation. He was sentient and deserved the best. But I knew his kind, those who didn’t make the roster of the elite, didn’t always have the lives they deserved.

He looked out the windshield and instantly stiffened, though when he spoke it was without a trace of disappointment or accusation. “You don’t want me.”

His utter calm and acceptance were way worse than any amount of pleading could have been. I caught myself on the edge of tears, my hands white-knuckling on the steering wheel.

As I made a decision that I hoped I wouldn’t live to regret. “If you could have any name,” I said, “what would it be?”

He perked a little. “My handler had a son he loved,” the puppy said in simple kindness. “He brought him to meet us a while ago. It was so nice, how he treated his son.” There was wonder in his voice. “His name was Benjamin.” The mastiff shifted on the seat, looking down. “I like that name.”

That was the end of me and all my doubt. “Okay.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and started the car, backing out as the puppy watched me with ears rising. “Benjamin it is.” Because how could I possibly give him back now that he had a name?

I had a really hard time driving with tears pouring down my cheeks, laughing while Benjamin licked them away.

***

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About the Author

Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), am an enthusiastic improv performer (if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker (go check out the Lovely Witches Club). My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.

Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you’ve heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my multitude of pets.

I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I’ll message back) at patti@pattilarsen.com. And if you’re eager for your next dose of Patti Larsen books (usually about one release a month) come join my mailing list! All the best up and coming, giveaways, contests and, of course, my observations on the world (aren’t you just dying to know what I think about everything?) all in one place: https://bit.ly/PattiLarsenEmail.

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