First Moon (Four Moons Book 1) by Richard Amos

Author:Richard Amos [Amos, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-27T16:00:00+00:00

The elven caravans moved around the skytube’s former underground tunnels along purposely built roads, clustering in places along the tunnels to form markets on the platforms, or deeper inside the tunnels where trading spaces had been formed by widening the space up.

Xavier led me down the spiral staircase deep into the ground. There were lifts, but they were mostly used to move goods up and down rather than as passenger convenience.

The Aldwych platform had a handful of elves on it, and two caravans waiting on the road. One of the wooden caravans, or vardo as they were known, was immaculately painted in green and red, while the other was covered in colorful graffiti. Both were closed up, their innards hidden from view.

I knew two of the elf guys hanging around, and slapped hands with them, but didn’t know the other geezer who was standing with a woman on the opposite side, both of them silent and watching me.

There was something about him—

“This is the caravan,” Xavier said, directing me to the graffiti one.

I stepped off the platform and onto the footboard as Xavier peeled open the small door.

It was warm inside, and the elf trader sold jewelry and beer by the looks of it, the caravan split into two halves—two separate businesses in one. The stones in the rings and bracelets were from Elvenrie, a small realm on the other side of the veil. Elf stones didn’t have a high market value, but they were pretty.

Didn’t matter about any of that, though, because there were blood spatters all over the place and only one real star of the show.

Mostly in the half with the beer bottles lined up on shelves with brightly colored labels, was the body of the murdered werewolf. His eyes were open wide, staring, his throat cut along with his wrists.

He was lying in a symbol of a crudely drawn circle with a strange marking inside it, apparently made using his blood. I couldn’t feel any energy coming off it, though.

The corpse was Derek. He was the same age as me, a werewolf soldier. Not one of the ten uber peeps. He’d always been one of my…

Bullies.

That was an understatement.

I crouched down, inspecting the ashen bloke, his dead eyes, taking in the dried blood at his mouth.

Derek. Dead.

I felt nothing.

“We have conducted our own investigation,” Xavier said from behind me. “We haven’t found a trace of anything other than elf and wolf—which is self-evident given he’s a wolf, and we’re in an elven caravan.”

“No sign of any weapon?” I wasn’t a PI or a cop, and defo not SCU material. But I went for the basic questions that popped into my head.

“No. We’ll have to do a trace sweep when we allow investigators in.”

They were the only race that could get away with dictating the rules—to a degree.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then, we’ll pass them on.”

The one question I had at the top of the pile was one I wasn’t about to ask: Could the murderer be an elf?

Yeah, my mouth stayed zipped.

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