I sighed. "You want me to take Gabriel."
TC lifted a paw, cleaning it, as if to say, Whatever do you mean? I'm just a cat.
"Nice try," I said. "But I'm not snubbing him. I'm just..."
I looked at the apartment door. Then I went back in, with TC trotting at my heels.
"Okay, I lied," I said as I walked into the kitchen, where Gabriel was throwing out the cat food tin. I took it from the trash and rinsed it. "I want to talk to Patrick." I tossed the can into the recycling bin. "I want to look at his books. See if I can find the answer there."
"The books that gave you visions the last time?"
"Yes, and I didn't want you trying to stop me. Also, the last time we did this, you decked Patrick, which I suspect is a very bad idea."
"So is asking to use his library, which puts you in his debt. As for the visions, while it's true that I don't like you encouraging them, I would hope that if you plan to do so, you would take along someone who might actually help you if you collapse unconscious on the floor again. Because Patrick will not."
True. While Patrick wouldn't let me die of fever on his floor, if I fell and banged my head, he'd calmly observe the results and then wander off when that proved dull.
"I think it's worth the risk." I paused and added, "And I'd like you to come."
He set the cat's dish down and followed me out the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
We found Patrick in the diner. He's almost always there, writing at a table, playing his role as Cainsville's resident novelist. He's been published in several genres, under multiple pen names. Currently, he's Patricia Rees, writing paranormal romance. I don't comment on that. I wouldn't know where to begin.
The other Cainsville elders usual
ly affect the guise of, well, the elderly. There's a distinct advantage to that. One could grow up in Cainsville and never realize the elders weren't aging, which is exactly what Gabriel had done. They'd been old when he was a child; they were still old. He had never stopped to consider exactly how old they might be. I remember a teacher I hated in second grade. In my memory, she was ancient, and then I met her a few years ago and discovered she was only now nearing retirement.
Presumably, the Cainsville elders will occasionally abandon their guise to live as younger residents. I suspect it's tough to seduce the local ladies when you look like you'd need a whole bottle of Viagra. But most times, they're seniors. The exception is Patrick, who appears somewhere between my age and Gabriel's. As for why no one notices that he doesn't age, chalk that up partly to fae compulsion and partly to the human brain's need to find explanations. Before we knew about the Tylwyth Teg, Gabriel had told me he remembered a man who'd taken an interest in him as a boy. In his memory, it was Patrick, but as an adult, Gabriel had realized that was impossible and decided the man must have been a relative of Patrick's instead.
Patrick is a hobgoblin. I remember the first time Rose said the word, and I made the mistake of equating it with "goblin." She'd been quick to correct me. She said I should think of Puck from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Which is exactly who Patrick reminds me of. An arrogant, self-serving trickster who isn't nearly as clever or as interesting or as charming as he thinks he is. Of course, I may be biased, having discovered a few months ago that Patrick is the father who abandoned Gabriel to his hellish life with Seanna.
We got three steps into the diner before the place went silent, every aging pair of eyes turning our way.
The first to react was Ida Clark, de facto leader of the Cainsville Tylwyth Teg. She rose to greet us, along with her consort, Walter.
"Olivia," she said. "And Gabriel. We haven't seen either of you in a while."
"And we haven't seen you together in even longer," said Veronica, beaming at us from her table.
"We're together plenty," I said. "I work for him, remember? Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a case--"
Walter perked up. "You're working on a case together?"
"We are," I said. "Ricky's in trouble, and Gabriel's helping me fix it."
Did I take some pleasure in seeing their faces fall as I mentioned that dreaded name? Maybe.
I walked to the counter, and said hi to Larry--the cook and owner. I'd worked here for a few months after I arrived, and contrary to what the elders claimed, I did still stop by quite often. I just didn't talk to them.
I motioned to the server--Susie--that I was going to take the coffee pot. Then I carried it over to the dark-haired guy banging away on his laptop. Patrick didn't even let me draw up alongside his table before he lifted his mug.
He smiled as I filled it. "Hello, Liv. Good to see you."
Gabriel took the pot from me and returned it as Patrick said, "You, too, Gabriel. The old folks are right. You don't come by nearly often enough these days."
I took the seat across from Patrick.