Page 2 of Search for the Lost

Crispin let the corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. Yes, she can. But coming from Aspin… he’d always been a mamma’s boy. “So when did you notice she was missing?”

Aspin squeezed the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, then twisted his hips, as if trying to find a comfortable position on the couch. “I wasn’t sure. Not at first. She didn’t come to breakfast three days ago, but that’s not unusual. Sometimes she lures in a new mortal and spends an excruciating amount of time with them in her bed. Until she tires of him at last.”

Crispin snorted. Lucky girl. “And then?”

“I went out on a quest.” He straightened up as he said it, his poise returning and his face taking on a noble cast.

“Quest?” This was the first Crispin had heard of his brother’s quest. “For what?”

Aspin squirmed. “Just a quest.”

“Well, you must have been questing for something.” As a member of the Office of the Lost, he knew a fair amount about questing. “What was it? A Holy Grail? A Sword of Power? The Only Ring That Really Matters?” He was enjoying, just a little too much, putting his brother on the spot.

Aspin threw up his hands. “All right, dammit, no. None of those things. I was out for a drink with my friends, all right? We grabbed a few tankards of ghost mead and chatted with the phantoms and that stitched-up guy at Shelley’s Monster Bar. Are you satisfied?” His nobility fled him once again, leaving him a moderately handsome mess.

“Crumpets!” Leo burst into the room carrying a huge silver tray, the one engraved with unicorns engaged in various sexual exploits—including putting horns where horns should never go, to Crispin’s way of thinking. At least, not without great care. Leo looked from Crispin to Aspin and back again. His cheerfulness was so bright it could blind you, and sometimes Crispin wished he would tone it down a bit. “What?” Leo asked. “Did I interrupt something?”

Crispin took the tray from him and set it on the low wooden coffee table, which growled in protest and flicked its tongue at them. He petted it, and it calmed down. “No, handsome. Nothing important.” He kissed Leo’s cheek, setting aside his annoyance, and turned back to Aspin, who was already devouring a crumpet topped with chocolate-covered ants. “So what happened when you returned from the, err, quest?” Was that a grateful look?

Aspin swallowed the last of his crumpet. “I asked around, but none of the staff had seen or heard from her in days. So I knocked on the door to her bower—did you know she had to have the whole thing redecorated after you splashed that horrid drink⁠—”

“The one Mother prepared for Leo?” Crispin raised an eyebrow. “The one that could have killed him?”

Aspin waved it away as if it wasn’t of any consequence. “Yes, that one. Anyhow, she didn’t answer, so I barged in to make sure she was safe⁠—”

It was Leo’s turn to snort.

Aspin turned to glare at him. “What?”

“It’s just…. Oh my god, you are such a mamma’s boy.”

Aspin rolled his eyes. “I love my mother. Is that a crime?”

Leo shook his head. “Not at all.” He patted Aspin’s knee. “Sorry. Go on. My mistake. Have another crumpet. The ones with the Oreos and cream are really good.”

Crispin would have asked what an Oreo was, but he was enjoying Aspin’s discomfort too much to interrupt the scene.

Aspin glared at Leo, then at Crispin, before going on. “In any case, I opened the doors, and her chambers were empty. All except for this one odd thing, sitting in the middle of her bed.” He pulled off the bag he’d slung over his shoulder and upended it onto the silver tray.

Both Leo and Crispin leaned forward to look.

“What is it?” Leo reached out for a touch.

Zzzzt.

“Owww.” He pulled back his hand as if he’d been burned.

It was... something. That much was clear. It existed.

It might have been fluffy. Or possibly sharp and jagged. It was black as night, or maybe white and gold, or perhaps black and blue.

He sniffed it. The thing definitely smelled like fresh-baked cookies. Or gasoline.

“I don’t know what it is. But it was the only thing out of place in the room. I think it’s a clue.” Aspin leaned forward and tickled under its… nose? Foot? Lateral fin?

It quivered and emitted a sound that was simultaneously like heavenly harp music and the ear-shattering clash of a thousand glasses breaking. Aspin blushed and ducked his head. “It seems to like it when I do that.”

Crispin stared at the Thing, but the more his brain tried to categorize it, the more it eluded his comprehension. “Thea will know.” He grabbed his portable assistant who, since meeting Leo, usually manifested herself in the shape of a human smart phone, and he pointed her at the thing. “Thea, what is that?”