Two hours earlier.
The chairs at the disciplinary table of the Fae Liaison Office were interminably uncomfortable in Celeste's opinion. She considered herself well acquainted with the room over her years in service, through a few over-eager haymakers and a few more incidents of mischief, but she had never before sat so long in this unyielding ladder back. The lights were dim, and the table seemed to stretch impossibly long between Celeste and those who summoned her. There were neither windows or decoration in the room to distract her, leaving her only focus Thatch and the council members as they contemplated her fate on the other side.
Thatch wasn't even sitting at the table with the others but leaning against the wall behind them. His posture was closed off and his eyes were stormy, but he gave nothing away regarding his opinions or their decision. The councilmen weren't much help either. Three of the half-dozen men who represented the power of their Fyn on the human side of the veil, men charged with making the Fae in England as palatable and impressive to the British Empire as possible, had barely spoken above a whisper for the past ten minutes. They shuffled through her files, occasionally glancing up with frowns set on their faces. The Fae Liaison Office was only one arm of their influence, and it had to function in harmony with the others, but it seemed Celeste was proving a discordant note.
"Officer Lefay," The oldest, pastiest, council member finally spoke up. Celeste straightened her back, keeping her expression neutral. "We have reviewed your conduct in the incident regarding the apprehension of Sir Turpin and have come to a verdict."
She could already tell it was bad news by his tone of voice.
"It is imperative that the Office work in tandem with all facets of human law and order. Your actions were an overreach of Liaison Office authority unbefitting your rank that put the reputation of the Fae District into question."
So that's how they were spinning it.
"However, we have taken the extenuating circumstances as well as your testimony into account…"
Liar.
"… and as such we have made the decision to neither terminate your employment nor demote you."
Celeste looked up to her godfather. Thatch said nothing but nodded his head almost imperceptibly. This was the grace he was able to afford her. Which meant…
"Henceforth from today you will be placed under an unpaid leave of absence for the next month. You are to immediately proceed to your desk and gather your affects to leave the Office for the duration of your suspension. You will not report to work again until the 7th of July. Is that clear, Officer Lefay?"
What choice did she have? Celeste took a deep breath and nodded her head. "I understand, Sir."
"Thank you, Miss Lefay. That will be all," the councilman said, dismissing her. As she stood to go, she once again caught Thatch's eye, asking a silent question. He shook his head emphatically, denying her unspoken request. Celeste tried very hard to keep her head from hanging or frustration from tearing out her throat. The biggest lead in her new, unsettling, case could not be explored with the resources of the Fae Liaison Office, with or without her, at least for another month. And then it might be too late. Her normal avenues had closed to her.
Well, it wasn't like she was completely alone…
Back in the present, Celeste kicked back on the settee in 221b Baker Street, massaging her temples.
"So, you've been suspended," Holmes stated plainly.
She nodded as Watson handed her a warm cup of tea that she balanced on her lap.
"And I would like to avoid discussing why," she continued.
Holmes handed her a fifth of whiskey, which she immediately placed on her forehead to cool the stress headache that had been building all morning. Watson looked disapprovingly at his flatmate.
"Don't be so stern, Watson," said Holmes. "Officer Lefay has had quite a day, and human alcohol isn't near as strong as its Fae equivalent."
"Not enough to break any streaks of good behavior at least," Celeste added with a crooked smirk as she removed the glass from her head and knocked it back. "I appreciate your concern though."
Holmes perched on the back of the sofa. "We are always happy to commiserate with you, Leopard. You caught me between cases. Though, I'd be more useful to you if I looked at whatever evidence you smuggled in your bag that you clearly came here to show me." Celeste's smirk grew wider.
"Between the inciting incident and today's suspension, I have been spending an uncommon amount of time at my desk," she explained as she rummaged through her satchel. "And so, I've busied myself with tying up loose ends from other cases. Including documenting the papers of the late Brambleston Constable, Andrew "Crowbeck" Clifton. Derryn, I'm sure you remember him."
"Unfortunately," Holmes answered with a sneer, subconsciously rubbing a spot on his forearm.
Celeste pulled a bundle of letters from the bag. "And in doing so, I found some rather unsettling correspondence of his that demanded my attention."
She tossed the bundle to Holmes who unraveled the twine and immediately began reading. His expression of curiosity morphed quickly into one of concern as he filtered through the papers.
"Do you think we missed an accomplice?"
"I think he connected with a kindred spirit."
Watson started reading the letters Holmes had finished. "This is quite a significant amount of vitriol towards Fae," he said, his brow furrowed in worry.
"Fae women in particular," noted Holmes. "He seems to have more of a vendetta against Fae/human marriages than our former adversary."
"He calls himself 'The Illuminist' in the letter," Celeste explained. "He seemed to agree with Clifton that magic itself could be useful, even if women able to use it proved an obstacle. While the Constable appropriated folk magic and cursed objects, this Illuminist took a more… clinical approach."
"It seems he became fixated on a procedure to extract the Aether from a Fae subject, effectively bottling their magic." Holmes' voice became very quiet and even as he looked to Celeste. "But that would prove fatal to any Fae, wouldn't it?"
Celeste nodded. "And from the third to last letter, it seems he succeeded in this procedure. More than once."
"And Director Grimm declined to investigate?" Watson asked, alarmed.
"There's no information to the Illuminist's identity, and the envelopes were burned, so the location wasn't obvious. Thatch didn't want to waste the resources or -and I quote- 'disrupt this season of building trust with the human community'. So, If I wanted to follow this lead myself, I'm out of Office assets for a month."
"At least you still have us," Watson offered.
"Yes, Leopard," said Holmes with a smirk. "How does it feel to slink to our door as a client?" Celeste rolled her eyes, though her smirk matched his.
Holmes scratched the corner of the paper, rubbing a residue between his fingers. "There's traces of sea salt, but no mildew in the scent. Chalk clay too."
"I did notice that," said Celeste as she swiped a ginger biscuit. "The letter must be sent from the coast, not just the rivers. With the chalk, it must be Southern. Then I noticed this on the top of one page." She pulled one of the letters from the stack, holding it up to the light. The paper had been cut into a smaller size, almost shearing off an elaborate stamped letterhead, but not quite.
"That looks like an insignia for a hotel's stationary, if I'm not mistaken." Holmes leaned forward, increasingly intrigued.
"Exactly. So, I cross-referenced that with the advertisements for hotels in Sussex prestigious enough for exclusive stationary, and here is what I found." With a flourish, she pulled a pamphlet from her bag. The paper was a tasteful mint green and featured a neoclassical seal above the title featuring a man and woman, reclining with their backs to each other upon an oversized harp. Holmes lined the pamphlet up with the stationary, and the bottom filigree matched perfectly.
"The Eurydice Arms," read Holmes. He looked up questioningly. "It's a honeymoon resort."
Celeste sighed. "It is primarily for honeymoons but is an excellent place for anniversaries or a couple looking for a romantic sabbatical. We focus on a respectable, quiet environment free from the distraction of little ones and the temptations of the unattached," she recited with a haughty affect to her voice.
Holmes chuckled. "It sounds like they are very concerned with keeping their reputation intact."
"Particularly since it is likely to be our Illuminist's hunting grounds," Celeste said, leaning forward. "At least four Fae brides have disappeared from the Eurydice Arms in the last two years."
Watson's jaw dropped. "How has this not been brought to the authorities before? Human or Fae?"
Celeste paused and pursed her mouth a moment before speaking. "None of them were reported as missing. One turned up as a drowning, and the rest were not remarked upon at all. There is an… old wives' tale about Fairy Wives. That they are good to have but hard to keep." Watson's expression turned stony as Holmes looked perplexed. "The love of a Fae woman is said to give vitality to her spouse. They stay healthier, live longer, etcetera. Conversely, Fae women are stereotyped to be unfaithful and untamed and given to run off. So, not only does this cause a certain subset of human men to treat us as prizes and pursue us relentlessly only to cage us when we acquiesce, but to ignore when something truly terrible has happened to these women."
"I feel once again the need to apologize for both my species and sex," Holmes said lightly.
"No need," Celeste dismissed. "My friends and flatmates experience this far more often than I. Fae women are only ever nymphs or witches to most humans, and I crossed into the latter years ago."
Holmes' answering smile was almost reproachful, and Watson definitely noticed the look that passed between the two.
"How have you been able to track the disappearances when they were unreported?" Asked Holmes.
"The disappearances are spread out over two summers and a Christmas season, so finding a pattern was difficult. However, I was able to look through the guest lists and find couples where the Fae wife completely disappeared after the trip. I know human wives tend to sublimate their social existence to their husbands after marriage, but that is a rare phenomenon among my folk. I narrowed it down further by looking at the behavior of the husbands. One remarried six months after his trip, and he did not return to Brighton for that honeymoon. One completely disappeared into his work and succumbed to a heart attack months after he returned; another still is in deep mourning. And that's not the husband of the drowning victim. That husband is still in Brighton, roaming the streets convinced his wife was kidnapped."
"It sounds like whatever happened at the resort was emotionally traumatizing to an extent. Is there a way we can get into the Eurydice Arms for a closer look?"
Celeste groaned and scrubbed her face with her hands. "You would not believe how difficult that has been. When they say 'exclusive to married couples', they mean it. The grounds and activities are closed, save for a single courtyard. They require a notarized copy of the marriage license for every couple that is then checked for physical or magical forgery."
"What about infiltrating staff?" Watson asked.
"I checked. They hire at least a season ahead of time and it is already summer. There's no one I can subtly replace before they arrive. I am officially out of ideas, so I was hoping you would have some of your own to offer."
Holmes leaned back, his fingers steepled together, contemplating for a moment. Celeste looked at him curiously, her head cocked to the side and her tea forgotten. Holmes caught her eye, a small smile playing at his lips.
"For your consideration, here is my idea: Will you marry me, Celeste Lefay?"