There we found an altar, of sorts. A makeshift “talking board” sat between two candles in Mason jars. The candles were still flickering. A quartz crystal rested to the left, a tipped-over bottle of wine to the right. The board was a rough rectangle of plywood, with the alphabet painted across it, and the words “yes” and “no” at the top corners. An upside-down paper cup rested on the board atop a thin piece of transparent acrylic, just the right size to cover one letter at a time.
“Fuck me now.” I stared at the setup. “Somebody figured out there was a spirit hiding itself in the troll and decided to commune with it. Bingo, open-door policy. Idiots didn’t realize that boards like this are actually portals.”
“Either that, or they were just drunk off their asses and screwing around.” Delilah rubbed her temples. “When will kids learn?”
“Why do you think this was a group of kids? I’ve met plenty of adults who don’t have the sense they were born with.” I toed the board. Sure enough, a sizzle sparked against my big toe. “Well, whoever they were, they opened the door, but I doubt they’re capable of locking the troll back in the bottle, so to speak. Which means we have to figure out what to do with it. We can’t just force it to go back inside the sculpture. That’s no life for any spirit.”
“I feel guilty for suggesting it, but we could call Ivana.” Menolly glanced at me. Ivana Krask, or the Maiden of Karask, was one of the Elder Fae. She loved ghosts. She loved ghosts all too much. She trapped the nasty ones in her ghoulish little “garden of ghosts,” where she fed off their energy and tormented them. But she was good at rounding up spirits, that was for sure. She’d probably salivate over the chance to nab a troll’s spirit.
I stared at my sister. “While the idea of handing over this creature to her is tempting, the fact is that we don’t know whether it’s evil or not. And I honestly can’t face myself in the mirror if we end up giving her a ghost who’s just confused and unhappy.”
“I thought you might say that.” Menolly shrugged. “I’m out of suggestions for now. We don’t know where the thing went. We don’t know what to do about it if we do find it again. What do you suggest?”
“Let’s head back to the car.” Delilah glanced up at the sky. “We can hunt it that way. We’d better find it, though. Tomorrow night’s the full moon and I won’t be of any use then. I can already feel the pull in my blood.” Full moons were always out when it came to any sort of plans for Delilah unless they included gallivanting around in my catnip garden, or chasing moths through the yard. They were out for me, too.
“Right. And I’ll be off on the Hunt with the Moon Mother.” I was swept away during the Full Moon, too, only I went racing through the skies instead of the back yard.
“So, what do we do? We can’t even figure out how to contain it, let alone send it off to the happy troll gardens or whatever their afterlife is. All we’ve accomplished so far is a broken butt and torn skirt for you, and skid marks tearing up my leather jacket.” Menolly shrugged. “Maybe we should do a little research? We may actually save time that way. We’re near the station. They have computers. Chase will let us use one.”
I hooked my arm through Delilah’s. “She’s right. We aren’t going to manage anything until we figure out what we’re fighting and how to combat it. Let’s head over to the FH-CSI.”
Delilah shrugged. “Whatever you think is right. I just hope that thing doesn’t hurt anybody while we’re surfing the ’net. Come on, let’s go.” She held up her keys as we approached her Jeep and unlocked the doors. Without another word, we piled in the car and were off to the station.
THE FH-CSI WAS the acronym for the Faerie-Human Crime Scene Investigation unit. Over the years, it had grown from a specialty operation to a powerful city organization. Chase Johnson, the detective in charge of it, was a friend of ours. He and Delilah had been an item for a while but the gulf between them was too great. Now, he was paired up with the Elfin Queen and while they got along great, once again, circumstance had intervened.
Sharah had returned to Otherworld to take up her duty when Elqaneve and the Elfin lands had been pulverized during war. The old queen was killed, making Sharah—a niece and the only one close to the throne who was still alive—the heir. She had returned home to take the crown, leaving Chase and their daughter, Astrid, over here Earthside. It wasn’t ideal, but neither Chase nor Sharah had a choice. Her duty to the throne came first for Sharah, and duty to his daughter and his own post came first for Chase.