Free The Ryu Morgue (A Jane True Short Story) (Trueniverse Book 2) by Nicole Peeler Page A

seen no sign of Pai, and the whole farm was eerily silent. Ryu gestured for Maeve to stand at the bottom of stairs leading up to the porch. She drew her gun and aimed toward the door, nodding at him to proceed.
    He didn’t have the heart to tell her the gun wouldn’t work on Pai any more than in it would work on him, unless she managed to fatally wound the Moiroi and knock her out before she could heal herself.
    Creeping up to the door, Ryu armed himself with his own missile—a mage ball juiced with as much power as he could spare.
    Which really wasn’t much.
    The truth was he should have fed last night. But it hadn’t felt right, after what happened with Maeve, to leave her in the room alone. Granted, she’d passed out, snoring like a lumberjack, the minute she’d gotten into bed. She wouldn’t have noticed if he slipped away. And yet he’d stayed, guarding her while she slept, after he’d made a few necessary phone calls to source the item they needed to get the upper hand on the Moirai.
    He touched the polished wood of the door frame, listening for any sound from within the house not only with his mind, but with his power. Pai’s signature absence was indeed absent—she wasn’t at home.
    He shook his head at Maeve, who swiveled away from the steps, guarding his descent. She nodded toward the barn and he moved in that direction. The wide double doors were closed, but as they neared, they heard singing coming from within.
    “The Old Tongue,” Ryu whispered. “A working song, invoking the sun and the loom.”
    “Sounds ominous,” Maeve whispered back. “Have a plan?”
    “I’ll go in through that door, up there,” Ryu said, pointing. “The one that leads into the hay loft.”
    “How do you know it leads into a hay loft?” Maeve whispered.
    “I’ve seen enough movies,” he replied softly. “It’s always a hayloft.”
    “Okay, Errol Flynn. What do I do?”
    “You wait ‘til I’m in, then fling open these doors. Distract Pai so I can take care of her.”
    “Take care of her? How?”
    “She can’t be killed, only incapacitated. That’s where these come in.”
    He reached into the courier bag, pulling out a pair of gleaming scissors.
    “Are those gold?” Maeve asked, blinking at the bright yellow metal.
    Ryu nodded. “And heavily spelled.”
    “What do you do with them?”
    “You’ll see when we get the door open. Ready?”
    Maeve nodded. Ryu gripped her hand suddenly in his. “Be careful,” he said.
    “Of course. And you.”
    He could hear her heartbeat racing, but her voice and eyes were calm. She was well trained, and as ready as she’d ever be.
    He used the decorative lattice on the barn to help swing himself up, motioning to Maeve to open the big doors. He heard her do so, turning at the same moment he heard them crash open, so that he saw what she must have, in the same moment.
    Pai was sitting in the center of the barn, at a spinning wheel that looked ancient yet well cared for, its intricately carved surfaces made out of a wood Ryu didn’t recognize, probably from a tree that had died out long before his own birth.
    She was spinning bright blue wool, which glimmered in that strange way that Maeve’s shawl had. Now the true nature of the glimmer was revealed.
    Pai’s long braids were down, her gold and silver hair falling about her in a monstrously abundant wave, reminiscent of a German fairy tale. She was spinning strands of that hair into the blue wool, so it sparkled in the dim light cast by a dozen or so lanterns.
    “There you are,” Maeve said conversationally. Pai had looked up as soon as the door was opened, but she seemed neither surprised nor worried at Maeve’s presence. Ryu crept forward a few feet into what was indeed a hayloft that covered only a third of the space available, so he could easily see Pai at her wheel and hear Maeve at the door.
    “Here I am. What can I do for you, child?” The words were friendly, holding not the slightest edge of menace. She