A Dance With Death

Chapter 2

After Mr. Alvarez left, I looked around my office and sighed.
"Should I take everything down now or later?" I said to fill the silence. I grabbed my coffee that hadn't been touched during the meeting and frowned at how cold it was. I drank it anyway, the bittersweet taste coating my tongue. It was time to make some calls I wasn't going to be looking forward to. 
The events that Mr. Alvarez mentioned were similar to a few different species and I would think it was a witch's curse if he hadn't been still hearing his family. 
When I was growing up, my mother told me stories about how humans tried to hunt us out of existence, stealing our children and burning our women. 
Until they took a dark king's sole heir and queen. Going mad with grief, he brought war back to the humans with a vengeance.  At night he spoke in riddles, claiming it was his wife guiding him to victory. And with this guidance, he created a dark spell that cursed the families involved. 
Unfortunately, the only way for me to get the full version would be to find some of the people that moved in more ancient groups than I was comfortable with. Filled with blue-blooded royalty who frequently looked their noses down at me for working with the humans. 
They always took it as "working for". 
It wasn't their approval I was seeking. But it sometimes stung a bit when they didn't recognize how this protected OUR species. There needed to be a balance. 
I play with a loose thread on my sleeve, thinking about what sources I had within the fae court willing to talk to me. There was Cris. He was at the bottom of the food chain essentially, but he had been moving up rather quickly. This was because it was almost impossible to hate him. He was a man that knew how to read a room, read a soul and fit into any situation. A type of intelligence rooted in his gifts, he wasn't raised as a noble, so he honed the gifts others would consider useless and crafted himself as the perfect social butterfly.  Little did they know, this particular gift has made him useful as a mercenary in other courts. 
The werefolk and vampires liked to call on his skills to be their own type of liaison. One to broker peace or demand justice. The same power that allowed him to float through social circles was also honed to find what tactic would be best suited to make another person doubt themselves. Or to strike fear in them. Using words like bullets and knowing what word would pull the trigger on their senses. Whichever was needed.
The witches and the goblins genuinely just enjoyed his company. Inviting him to every fullmoon ceremony. The amount of times that man has had to call me because he was buck ass naked in a field astounds me. 
So I figured he owed me one as I pulled my phone out and scrolled down to his number. 
The phone rang one time and he was on the other end, I could hear the smile in his tone. 
"Diaaaaana," He drew out my name like a song. "It's been, what? Six months?" 
"Hello Cris," I say, "Im doing great, thanks for asking." The sarcasm was playful, a bit of banter. 

"Whatcha need this time, buttercup?" carrying on the conversation. Always right down to the point, either because of his gift or because he knew how I was. I always had to wonder who he might really be. Under all of what people wanted him to be. Or expected of him. 

"There's a family that's been abducted." I pause, trying to figure out how to put this. "First the son, and then the wife. The husband is untouched." 
He doesn't say anything and I knew he was listening closely.  Waiting for me to tell him the next marker of a long forgotten tale. 
"The father says they walked into the woods. And that he still hears their voices." I swallow before continuing. "Its been six months." 
I hear a steady breath released before his voice, chipper tone replaced with a serious one, 
"What do you need me to do?" 
I go on to tell him that I need to find someone old enough to know about the real history nobody wanted to speak on. The Kings curse. 
Not the story used to scare children into listening. 
It was a dark time in our history and choices made that could not be taken back. Our people have worked so long to build over it. 
"Give me an hour." was all he said.
We said our goodbyes and I pressed the end button. Looking at the time, I saw it was well past midnight. Maybe one of these days, I would be home at a decent time. 
I put my phone in my back pocket and grabbed my jacket. My house was only fifteen minutes away, which gave me plenty of time to shower and get ready for bed and maybe for once have a decent nights sleep.  I hooked my phone up to the Bluetooth and started a random playlist. Something to distract my brain from what may about to come. 
Todays playlist looked like a mix of hard rock and switched to bubble gum pop. 




_________________________________~~~~~~~~~~~___________________________________

I had just pulled into my driveway when Cris called me back. 
"I have good news and bad news." his voice came through the speakers. 
I sighed and leaned my head against the steering wheel, 
"Lay it on me." I say. 

"I found someone that will talk about the curse." he replies. He hates giving bad news. 
So I have to prod at him a little,
"And...?" might as well rip the bandaid off. "Who is it?" 
I hear something like him scratching his beard. 
"Well, you know that bar? The Crimson Requiem?" He's dragging this out intentionally. And that's how I knew it wasn't going to be a decent nights sleep at all. 
" The owner is Cian Briars."