Not that I believed I wasn't already in that state.
"You must first allow me to give you a warning, what is called a statement of obligation," Monish said as soon as he seated me at one end of one side of the long table. Paolo and he sat across from me, both men opening black leather portfolios. I tried hard not to peek at what they had there. "Simply stated, it says that you recognize the authority of the L'au-dela watch and you place yourself under our jurisdiction. Whatever punishment is deemed appropriate by the watch will be duly carried out with your full acceptance."
"Punishment?" I said, clearing my throat when my voice came out husky and strained. "What sort of punishment? And why am I going to be punished? I haven't done anything wrong. I didn't have anything to do with the two Guardians' deaths—"
Monish held up a hand to stop me. "I did not say you will be punished. I said merely that if that action is deemed necessary by the watch and the committee, you will agree to abide by such a decision."
I took a deep breath. "And what if I don't agree to recognize the authority of you or the committee?"
Monish's hands rested flat on the table. Paolo looked bored. "Then you will be ejected from the L'au-dela. You will not be allowed to participate with any members of the society, nor will be you recognized as a Guardian."
"Ah." I gnawed on my lower lip, thinking it over. Surely there must be some non-official Guardians? People had recognized me as one from the time I first set foot in the Otherworld sphere, and I hadn't know anything about the society. Perhaps if I went my own way, I would be left in peace..
"Removal from the L'au-dela is a serious matter, Aisling. It means that all the society will be closed to you. You will receive no training, no help, have no recourse to information if you choose to not recognize its authority. I urge you to think carefully before you decide to take such an irreversible and devastating course of action." Mon-ish's face was carefully impassive, but I paid heed to the warning in his soft, lilting voice.
It looked like I had no choice in the matter at all. Either I could recognize the Otherworld leadership and play by their rules, or I wouldn't be allowed to play at all. I could always say no and just go off to be Drake's mate, but I wouldn't be happy doing that. I wanted to be a Guardian, I wanted to be valued for myself, because I had value and skills and importance of my own, not just because my chromosomes meshed well with Drake's.
I swallowed back my worry and no little amount of fear and nodded. "AH right. I recognize your authority."
Monish relaxed into the soft leather chair, a tiny smile flickering across his lips before he became serious again. "Good. Regarding the two Guardians, you will please explain what your meetings with them consisted of and how you came about selecting them as potential mentors."
The next twenty minutes were spent going over the same ground I'd covered with (he Budapest police—how I came to be at the conference (although the BP police had no idea about the true scope of the conference, viewing us more or less as harmless crackpots), why I was searching for a mentor, and what had led me to talk to Moa and Theodora, By the time Paolo had fetched coffee for all three of us, my throat was dry, but I was fairly relaxed and confident. This was nothing worse than the grilling I'd undergone with the police.
That thought evaporated quickly.
"Very well. Your information matches what you told the police," Monish said as I took a sip of the coffee Paolo set before me. I thanked him, but he didn't say anything, just resumed his seat next to Monish, his pen in hand as he made occasional notes. "Now we come to the point of this meeting."
"The point?I' I asked, surprised. "I assumed the point was finding out how I had met the Guardians. You can't imagine I have anything to do with their deaths! The police inspector said the preliminary examinations showed that the women died in their sleep."
Monish inclined his head. 'That is so, but we in the L'au-dela are better qualified than the mortal police to judge the origins of questionable deaths. The two Guardians did, indeed, die in their sleep, but we believe they were murdered."
I stared at him, half believing he was joking with me. He wasn't, of course. His face was all seriousness.
"Murdered? Are you sure? How? By who?"
"That is what we have asked you here for," Monish said, setting his pen down and lacing his fingers together on top of his portfolio. "It has come to the attention of the L'au-dela committee that you were a suspect in two recent murders in Paris."
A horrible, dreadful feeling of deja vu crept over me. It couldn't happen again, could it?
"Because of that, and because of your involvement with the two Guardians who were killed, the committee views you with extreme suspicion. I do not believe you are responsible for the Guardians' murders"—
I relaxed into an ungraceful slump.
—"but I believe you had something to do with them, even if it is a connection you yourself do not yet recognize."
"But—but—"
The horrible feeling swelled. It was happening again! Dammit, it couldn't! I wouldn't let it!
"The committee has recommended a course of action that I hesitate to take."
The loathing in his voice pulled me out of a temporary wallow in self-pity to take note of what he was saying. "What course is that?" I asked, dreading the answer.
Paolo and he exchanged glances. Meaningful glances. "I believe that information is not relevant. Know simply that it would be most, . . unpleasant."
Oh, great. He was talking about supernatural torture. The head of the Otherworld's government wanted to torture me because of what had happened in Paris.
"That thing in Paris—it was just a coincidence." T started to explain, but Monish wouldn't let me Finish.
"I have read the report filed by the wiccan Amelie Merllain. I am familiar with the happenings of that time. But you must understand my position, Aisling. The committee members are calling for your head. They believe that you have an uncontrolled power that with or without your knowledge was used in conjunction with the Guardians' deaths. They want me to take you into custody and .. ." His gaze shifted to Paolo for a second or two before returning to me. At the implication of something so awful, I went from merely being sick to my stomach to sheer, unadulterated terror. "I have obtained their agreement to refrain from committing you to such a regrettable course of action by promising them that you would, under the authority of the watch, identify the murderers of both Guardians."
My heart dropped down to my feet, joining my stomach. "But, Monish, I'm not a detective! I don't know the first thing about finding murderers! And I don't have any uncontrolled powers! Well, all right, Pm not terribly in control of the power I do have, but it's not a big power. And it couldn't kill anyone. I wouldn't know how to even go about making someone sick, let alone kill them. Intentionally or otherwise. Pm just a Guardian wannabe, pure and simple."
"You are also a wyvern's mate," Monish pointed out. Paolo nodded.
"Yeah, but—"
"A portal was opened and a demon came forth before you during a lunch."
'The dragons—"
"And it has not escaped notice that mortal men seem to be, if you will forgive the impertinence, unduly attracted to you."
"That's the amulet," I interrupted quickly, pulling the amulet's chain up so they could see it. "I was supposed to give it to its owner today, but my demon got sick and I had to take it to the vet."
"The fact that you are also a demon lord is an added concern to the committee," Monish said softly.
I slumped even further into my chair. "It's just the one demon. I don't know why they insist that binding one little, insignificant demon to you makes you a demon lord."
"It is not everyone who has sufficient power to control even a little, insignificant demon."
I wanted to melt into the floor. It was no use to try to protest my innocence. The damned committee I had just agreed to recognize had set me up for a fall, and they weren't going to be happy until I tumbled into their grasp.
"There is a positive side to this, you know," Monish said, chivalrously refraining from gloating over my acquiescence.
I looked up at him, heartsick, soul-sick, entire-rotten-life-sick. "No, there's not."
"Yes, there is," he said, and for the first time that evening he smiled. "You solved the murder of a very influential member of the Paris L'au-dela. Surely it will present no difficulty for you to use your powers to identify the murderer of two simple Guardians."
17
My meeting with Monish didn't end on that ridiculous note, thankfully. Instead, once he sensed he had emotionally beaten me into numbness and compliance, he shared with me all the information the Otherworld watch had gleaned thus far.
It wasn't much, just background material on the two women and the fact that they had both been discovered dead in their beds by maids who had let themselves into the rooms to clean. Neither woman had any signs of trauma, wounds, or obvious cause of death.
Detailed examination showed one similarity between them: They had both recently engaged in sex.
"Well.. . they were both pretty and, according to your records, single. It's not surprising they kicked up their heels a little," I said, flicking through the two files Monish had handed me. Most of it was in French, which I did not read, but he translated parts he felt were pertinent. I avoided the autopsy pictures he'd somehow managed to get a hold of.
Monish looked vaguely embarrassed. "When I said there was a link between the two women, I did not mean that the fact that they had both engaged in sexual relations was it. That alone would not be sufficient evidence of a connection." His eyes did a subtle little dance. "I suspect that many people attending the conference have spent their evenings in such a fashion."
I slapped an innocent look on my face. "Mmm,"
The light in his eyes died as he continued, "What ties the deaths of the two women together is the manner of their ... er ... relations."
"Manner?" I asked, my forehead wrinkling as I tried to read between the lines. "You mean they were into something kinky? Bondage? That sort of thing?"
A faint blush stole over Paolo's cheeks. I watched it, intrigued, more than a little amazed that the man who had taken to plaguing me could blush over the mention of a little kinky sex.
"No, It was not the type of their sexual relations that I find curious."
I blinked a couple of times and waited for Monish to finish.
"It was the amount."
"Amount?"
His skin was too dark to see if he blushed or not, but his gaze did drop to his notes. "Each Guardian had evidently participated in several sexual acts the evening and morning of her death. The best estimate, based on the physical evidence left behind, is that each of them participated twelve times."
"TWELVE TIMES?" I yelped, my eyes all but bugging out of my head. "You're joking, aren't you? Twelve times? That's impossible! I mean, twice is pushing it, and three times makes you sore, but twelve times is just downright impossible! Even if they wanted to, where on earth are you going to find a guy who can ... you know. .. twelve times? Wait—the physical evidence— was that male or female evidence?"
Monish looked extremely uncomfortable. "Male. Even allowing for variations in quantity, the best-guess estimate is twelve incidents."
"Holy cats," I said, crossing my legs in sympathy for the two women. "So in other words, what you're saying is that they were sexed to death."
"It is believed that the stress of so much intense physical activity is responsible for their deaths."
I dragged my mind away from what sort of man had the ability to ejaculate twelve times in the span of a night and moved to what was uppermost in my mind. "You're leaving out something important."
Both men nodded. "Your mind is as quick as knew it would be, given the Paris reports," Monish said. "One of the watch acquired a sample of evidence from both bodies. It matches."
I shook my head, not to dispute what he was saying, but because I just didn't believe it. "What man can go at it twelve times with a woman, killing her but leaving him just fine and dandy, and then repeat the whole process with another woman the next night?"
"One who is not mortal," Monish said. He plucked the file from my hands and began to gather up his things.
"That pretty much goes without saying. What I don't understand is how you can show this to your committee and they can think I have something to do with the deaths. Surely I lack the obvious equipment."
His eyebrows rose at my flip tone. "They do not believe you directly caused the deaths of the Guardians, Aisling, but they do very much believe that the killer was either summoned by you or drawn to your proximity involuntarily."
I started to protest my innocence, but the memory of the night I had been swarmed by incubi flitted through my mind. I hadn't summoned them, yet they appeared. I couldn't help but wonder what an incubus's stamina was like—that, and whether or not they left physical traces of themselves.
"We're just going to have to agree to disagree on that point," I said. "What exactly do you expect me to do? You guys are investigating this, so I don't see where I come in."
"You have powers that the watch does not. You have the ability to see things that are hidden from us. We will continue to investigate the murders as best we can, but we are limited in scope. That is why the committee agreed to not pursue their course of action with you— they recognize that although you have the power to raise the being that killed the Guardian, if you are innocent, you also have the power to discover the source and identity of that being." He paused, sending me a hard, unbending look. "If you wish to have a future in the L'au-dela, Aisling, I urge you to use every means possible to locate the murderer. Quickly. The committee is not known for their patience."
The two men stood, and after wishing me well and giving me a cell phone number where he could be contacted at any time of the day, Monish left, Paolo trailing after him.
The door to the conference room closed with an almost silent shush.
I sat alone, fingering the amulet, wondering just how the hell I was supposed to find a sex fiend murderer when I couldn't even do something as simple as deliver an old piece of crystal or find a mentor without running into trouble.
At least Paolo hadn't divined anything horrible for me in the near future, At least he hadn't—
I turned at the sound of the door clicking open. Paolo stuck his head in. "You will befriend a pigeon while contemplating plunging to your death."
"I've got something important to tell you," I told Drake as I rushed past Pal, who was holding the door open for me. I'd forgotten to take the room key he'd left for me earlier.
Drake, clad in an absolutely mouthwatering long green tunic that shimmered with a faint gold pattern every time he moved, cocked a glossy black eyebrow at me and silently looked at the clock.
"It's just now seven, so you can stop giving me that annoying male 'waiting for a woman who's always late' look."
"I said we needed to leave at seven." Drake's lips pursed ever so slightly as he let his gaze wander down me.
"Yes, I'm going to change, hut what I have to tell you is important."
"You say green dragons not important?" Istvan asked in a belligerent tone. He moved to stand beside Drake. Both Pal and Istvan were dressed similarly to Drake, in long forest green tunics and matching pants, but the material on their clothes was different, minus the faint, elusive gold pattern in the cloth of Drake's.
"No, I don't mean that. All I'm saying is—oh, all right! I'll go change and tell you in the car."
I had brought one formal dress along with me for the ending banquet, which the GODTAM registration packet had said was black tie. My dress was a simple black matte floor-length sheath, nothing terribly fancy but of sturdy travel material. It was not the dress I found laid out on the bed along with a pair of stiletto heels that I knew just by looking at them would probably cripple at least three toes on each foot.
I thought at first the dress was black, but
closer inspection revealed it to be a dark, dark green-black. Even draped over the bed, the lines of it made my mouth water. A simple, elegant ballerina bodice flowed down into a long, sweeping chiffon formal-length skirt, the bodice heavy with an intricate beaded vine embroidery. The tiny little beads swept serpentine paths down the skirt, causing the whole thing to glitter and sparkle with a thousand little green lights as I held it in my hands.
I had to give Drake credit—the man knew how to pick clothes.
When I emerged from the bedroom, he didn't even comment on the fact that I was now twenty-four minutes late. He just rose slowly from an armchair, his head tipped to one side as he looked me over. A long finger tapped his lips for a moment, then he drew a little circle in the air.
"Iirn." Obediently, I did my best to mimic a model's graceful turn. Drake nodded. "Yes. I was correct in the choice of that gown. Come. The sept awaits."
"Hey!" I said, dropping my arms from my model spin. "Less congratulating yourself on your fashion sense and more complimenting me would be a good thing right now."
"I should not have to compliment you. You are my mate. You will always look the part."
"Yeah, but it would be nice if you could break down and tell me that I look nice in this admittedly gorgeous dress you found."
Istvan snickered. Drake gave me an impassive look. "Wyverns treat their mates with respect at all times. They do not give effusive praise."
"You remember that rule that says you can't kiss me in public? That's not the only one that's going to be changed," I said as I gathered up tny evening bag and the thin black silk wrap I'd brought.
Pal grinned as he and Istvan went out the door. Drake stood by the open door, waiting for me. As I neared him, he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close. "Kincsem, do you know what I would do if we did not have to leave tonight?"
"Compliment me? Fork your tongue and kiss me the way I deserve to be kissed?"
His breath was hot on my ear, his lips even hotter as he pressed a wet, steaming kiss licked with fire to the spot behind my ear that never failed to make me shiver. "No. I would press you against the wall, slide that expensive dress up, part your soft, delectable thighs, and plunge deep inside you."
Fire Me Up Page 17