The Changeling's Ghost (Thirteen Gates #1)

Infractions

   
"Two hundred twenty-three," Sheryl says as I pass her at five in the morning, the dim warm lighting casting menacing shadows across her face. I wouldn't say we're necessarily 'snooping', it's more like 'investigation', but the end results is the same. "Those are unlicensed crystals. You could achieve the same result with some half-decent salt wards or some iron. Why would you need custom settings on these?"

    "Seems like they have a lot of fae around." I say, breathing in the rich scent of the wood. Candles flicker down the hallway, the upholstery of which reminds me of a mansion ripped straight from Scooby-Doo. It even has the intimidating old people adorned by large, gilded frames, and various statues of various fae that seem to move when you turn your head. I pick up one of the imps, who is suspended in the state of leaping forwards, and incline it. "You think these are haunted?"

    "Checked. They're not living, only undyingly gaudy." Sheryl's figures contract slightly in her face, as if tasting a lemon, as she disdainfully looks it over. "How much information have you managed to get out of Asher Northcott?"

    "Only that they've allied with the undines." I shrug. "Looks like they're going with the cardinal system, although it's altered from the North American version. I did a little bit of study on it, but c'mon you know..."

    "You wouldn't be here if your book smarts were anything like your field smarts." Her eyes bore into mine. "I'm well aware."

    That's Sheryl for you. "Thankfully I'm not here to throw books at ogres, I'm here to hit them with nunchucks." I run my fingers over my earbuds, which are in my ears even though I'm not listening to anything. I've been staying under the first gate, to be polite, but the building is probably still here in the first gate--most are. I should probably abstain from going back through it in the future, so that I can activate my integral at any time (they're completely dormant at the lowest level). Back in America, recruits would be on the first gate at the very lowest. I spent half my nights third or higher after the age of eight, fending off strange nightmares and warped buildings that would breathe as if we were in their stomachs, filled with grasping hands and fiends around every corner.

    After that, this has been a vacation, but I can feel myself going soft.

    "You're here to gather information. You should have realized that something is amuck in this house." Sheryl says. "The house has been scooped clean, like someone has taken a knife to its innards. There is not dust in a single cranny. Various family records have been tampered with. It's like there's something they don't want us to find."

    I look up, voice hushed. "Like a missing person?"

    Sheryl nods. Her eyes flick upwards, towards the painting on the wall opposite us, and I swear the eyes move. "Two hundred twenty-four. We're going to crack this case wide open."

    "'Kay," I say, "I'll tell if I get anything else, but seriously, Sheryl, we should have time. Trying to bust this thing open early is going to be like dealing with an unripe pimple. It only drives the infection... deeper." Look, I've never had acne in my life, but I used to have a bunkmate whose entire face looked like an active volcano, and I felt for him. "Let's chill. Enjoy our vacation. You know?"

    Sheryl's hand lands on my shoulder. "We are not taking a vacation here. We are dealing with dangerous beasts and their allies, people who would not hesitate to kill us..."

    "I'm pretty sure the grimalkin is their second cousin. She has Asher's hair." I note.

    "And it is important that we keep them in line..." continues Sheryl.

    "It's just a few minor liberties."

    "This is about liberty. It's about protecting freedom. Sometimes we must ensure that the freedoms of the few do not impose on the freedoms of the many. This is the purpose of order and rules, and when those rules are broken, the whole will suffer."