A cyclops walked by us and his single large eye lingered on Andy. The only human in the opera house. His nostrils flared, but like the harpies, he was on his best behavior. Andy took it all in, his FBI mask firmly in place. Only the flicker of his pulse at his neck told me his heart was beating faster than normal.
The scents tickled my nose, concession stands and thick curtains mixed with light perfume and the smell of clothes that were only retrieved from the closet for special occasions. Normally I loved the aroma of theaters. Tonight even the familiar aroma couldn’t calm my nerves.
Not when I’d already spotted the vampire.
I’d called the Winters building before I arrived, warned Vera that Andy would be accompanying me tonight. My contract with Anton had expressly forbid me from revealing his vampiric nature to law enforcement, and this probably qualified. Given that this performance was specifically for those Otherworlders who couldn’t or wouldn’t go out in daylight, there was little chance Andy wouldn’t notice that the audience was completely Other. And it would be hard to explain Anton and Vera’s presence and maintain Andy’s belief they were both human criminals.
Vera had assured me her husband was aware of Andy’s partnership with me, and everything would be taken care of.
I didn’t like the sound of that one bit.
“Mother Renard, you’ve made it.”
Vera swept down the large main staircase, her arm laced through her husband’s as she pulled him along with her. They looked like they’d just stepped off the front page of a society rag, her in a crimson evening gown and a light silk scarf in a slightly darker color draped over her pale shoulders. Him with his black suit and starched white shirt that almost made his skin look human by comparison.
Almost.
Vera took my hands in hers and leaned in to kiss each of my cheeks in turn. “I’m so pleased to see you.”
“And you,” I said weakly.
Andy went rigid beside me. Per Anton’s orders, I hadn’t told him who’d gotten me the tickets. On the upside, it meant I hadn’t lied. On the downside, that meant Anton had no intention of letting him know.
Which meant…
Vera stepped to the side, allowing her husband to join us. Anton’s icy blue eyes danced over me and Andy before settling on Scath. Part of me wanted to step between them, block her from his line of sight.
I didn’t.
“Mr. Winters, Mrs. Winters,” Andy said. “It was kind of you to invite us.” He managed to keep his tone polite, but his body language betrayed him. And he was looking at Anton very much as though he was picturing him behind bars.
“Not at all, we are glad to have you.” Anton met Andy’s eyes, and the lights overhead caught a subtle red glow. “I’m pleased you were willing to come and help me with security. I’ve asked the young woman at the ticket booth to provide you with a list of tonight’s guests, as you requested. You will want to check that now, of course?”
I couldn’t feel Anton using his power, not when it wasn’t directed at me. But I remembered what it felt like. The sensation of falling, the thick fog that made thinking so much harder. And all I could do was stand there as he hypnotized Andy, planted a suggestion in his mind. I thought of the green stone I’d given him. Anton Winters was the perfect example of the stone’s limitations. Pity I couldn’t have told Andy that.
“Yes, sir,” Andy said. “If you’ll excuse me?”
Anton watched the FBI agent go for only a second before turning to me. Behind my neck, Peasblossom tucked herself deeper into the neckline of my dress until her feet touched my bra strap.
“Andy doesn’t know about you,” I said quickly.
Anton gave me a small smile, not enough to flash fangs. “I see that. After all, you are still alive, are you not?”
Just a friendly reminder that the contract I’d signed with him would kill me if I squealed. Nice.
“Mother Renard, I do not intend to puppet your FBI agent for long,” Anton assured me. “I only want him out of the way for now so we might have a little chat.” He nodded at Scath. “What do you know about your feline companion?”
Hearing the vampire echo the oracle’s question from earlier made me stand straighter. “Why do you ask?”
I blurted out the question before I remembered who’d asked it. Anton’s eyebrow quirked up. Red specks flickered in his eyes.
I cleared my throat. “She’s a shapeshifting sidhe. She’s acting as my bodyguard in exchange for shelter and being allowed to come with me when I work a case.”
Anton absorbed that information. “I see. And what case are you working now?”
“I can’t talk about—” I started.
Anton stepped forward. I looked up without meaning to and found my vision full of burning red irises. Anton wasn’t going for subtlety anymore, wasn’t bothering to be gentle. The sensation I’d been remembering only seconds ago overwhelmed me, and my thoughts fell one by one into the thick, roiling fog. When he spoke, it echoed in my ears as if it were coming from inside my head.
“Tell me what brings you here. Details, please.”
I told him. I told him about Flint’s assignment, about the thefts. I told him I was here to see Catherine, not to protect her, but to see who would try to claim her knife. I told him I had to steal the items back.
Anton tilted his head when I specified I had to let someone use the cursed items before I returned them to their human and half-human owners. I almost asked if he knew why Flint would give such an order, but deep down, I knew he wouldn’t tell me.
“Catherine is here,” Anton said when I’d finished. “She’s brought additional security, so Devanos is obviously taking your concerns seriously.”
My shoulders dipped in relief at the mention of extra security. I knew I had to let the thief get away with the artifacts, but it was hard. It went against my conscience to let someone take those curses, and it went against my burgeoning PI instincts to let a thief get away with stealing them in the first place. But if Devanos hired his own security, then that was out of my hands.
“Your partner will return soon,” Anton continued. “When he leaves the building, he will have no memory of seeing me or my wife. If you ever have reason to believe he does remember, you’ll inform me immediately. Yes?”
“Yes.”
Anton nodded, and put his hand over Vera’s where it rested in the crook of his arm. He started to turn.
“Why is everyone so interested in Scath?” I blurted out.
Anton’s gaze locked back onto mine. “Who is interested in Scath?”
I waved a hand in the air, my gaze darting around the room in an attempt not to make prolonged eye contact. “You. Vera. Morgan. That oracle.”
“What oracle?”
Anton’s voice dropped an octave, and I felt a sudden, strong desire to meet his eyes. I stared down at my feet, not caring that I looked ridiculous. I cuddled Majesty, concentrating on his soft fur, the vibration of his body as he purred. Anything to distract me from the vampire. “The creepy one at Nightcap. The one Morgan’s been pumping for information about me. And Scath.” I swallowed hard. “What do you know about Scath?”
Anton was silent for a long moment. “The show is starting shortly,” he said finally. “We should get inside.”
If I’d had a better day, I might have had more control over my impulses. I might have let the vampire walk away, accepted that he wasn’t going to tell me anything. As it was, I was tired, and stressed, and in need of a soda. I wasn’t ending the conversation without learning something new.
Which is why I thrust Majesty at the vampire.
Anton flinched. He honest-to-Goddess flinched, something I’d never thought to see him do if I lived to be a thousand. He curled his body around Vera, protecting his wife from…what?
“You recognize him?” I asked. “Do you know what he is?”
I wiggled Majesty, and the kitten meowed in confusion. He didn’t quit purring though.
“Don’t shake it,”
Anton said calmly. “I’d advise you to put him down.”
“I think I’ve been very accommodating,” I responded, my voice thinner than I’d have liked. “I’ve shared everything I know. And as much as I appreciate your generous invitation tonight, I think we both know you invited me so you could see her.” I inclined my head at Scath.
“You feel you’ve given more than you’ve received?”
Anton’s voice was as even as ever, but he didn’t move from his position in front of his wife. Vera didn’t look the least bit concerned, but she was watching me with a great deal of interest. Which was almost as bad.
“I think we both know that information is more valuable than an opera ticket,” I said.
Anton smiled, and this time, I caught the barest hint of fang. “Quite so. Put the cat down, and I will answer three questions. If I can.”
I eased Majesty down to the floor, and the kitten meowed in protest, putting his tiny front paws on my leg to be picked up again. Scath sat down and fixed me with a death glare. I sighed and retrieved the kitten, settling him back into my arms and scratching behind his ears.
“Pathetic,” Peasblossom muttered under my dress.
Anton was watching me with renewed interest, but I ignored the ominous feeling that gave me and faced him with my back straight and my shoulders squared.
“I’ll call you when I’ve thought of my questions.”
Vera laughed and clapped her hands. “Well done, Shade,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
The corner of Anton’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he gave me a shallow bow. “Until then, Mother Renard.”
Peasblossom grabbed onto the back of my dress and squirmed her way up my spine. As soon as her head was clear, she hissed against my neck, “Three questions? Why do you think he offered three questions? That’s like a dragon saying ‘keep the change.’”
“He gave me three,” I said slowly, “because he’s fishing for information too.” I looked down at Scath, then back at the vampire’s retreating form. “Anton Winters is known for knowing everything about everyone, has dealt in information over centuries. He stands to find out a lot about me by what questions I ask. I need to think about what I want to know. And what I want him to know.”
“Hello, Mother Renard.”
The sound of Marilyn’s voice spun me around. The leannan sidhe beamed at me as she approached, looking every bit as radiant as I’d expected in a gown so soft it could have been cut from flower petals. Her blue eyes didn’t dance with the same power as the last time I’d seen her. But then again, she wasn’t in her home, surrounded by art and artists under her power. Unfortunately, what she did have was more unsettling.
Simon stared at me as he approached, and the feral look in his eyes contradicted the formal suit and tie he wore. The suit was expensive, tailored to fit so it smoothed out the awkward lines of his growing body, made him look more grown up. I would have believed he was an intern at a prestigious law firm, with that suit and his hair so carefully styled. I looked closer at his face and realized he was wearing makeup. Not a lot, just enough to even out his skin, give him a little more color. She’d dressed him up as if he were her doll.
“Good evening, Marilyn. Simon.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right, you already know Simon, don’t you?” Marilyn said, tapping her lips with one finger. “How did you meet again?”
My answer was lost when Andy barreled through the crowd, parting the throng of people milling into the theater by force of will. He stared straight at Simon, and Marilyn arched an eyebrow as he came to a halt beside the teenager.
“Simon, are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Simon asked, irritation thick in his tone.
“Agent Bradford,” Marilyn cooed. “How fortuitous. I was just about to tell Shade about Simon’s impressive progress. I had no idea how talented he was. And under my tutelage, he’s truly blossomed, you have no idea.” She looked at me, and her bright gaze suddenly looked predatory. “I suppose I have you to thank. Without you to act as his temporary muse, I don’t think Simon would have connected to his passion the way he has. And as you know, without passion, there can be no art.”
I resisted the urge to curl my hands into fists. She had to be talking about the painting that featured me. The one too violent for Shannon to hang in her cafe.
“I’m holding a small private exhibit for him tomorrow night at my house,” Marilyn continued sweetly. “You should come and see for yourself how gifted he is.”
“Don’t feel pressured to come,” Simon said gruffly. “We all know you have no appreciation for art. Real art.”
“Actually, I’m very interested in your art,” I said lightly. “In fact, I’d like to talk to you about a piece you did not long ago. But I don’t want to hold you up. Perhaps you could meet me here during intermission?”
Marilyn laughed. “Mother Renard, if you want to speak to Simon in private, you have only to ask.” She patted Simon’s hand, then tilted her face to let him kiss her cheek. “I’m going to our seats. See that you join me before they close the doors.”
“I don’t need to speak to her.” Simon glared at Andy. “Or him.”
“Don’t be rude,” Marilyn said sharply. “Mother Renard is a witch, and Mr. Bradford is an FBI agent.” She gave me and Andy a sweet smile. “Of course you’ll be happy to answer their questions.”
The smile on her face grated on my nerves. It was the smile of someone who’d done something cruel, but knew there was no way she’d be punished for it. Simon was eighteen. And her protege. And there was nothing we could do about it.
Simon’s mouth snapped shut, but his eyes continued to burn. He held onto Marilyn’s hand where it rested on his arm, as if he could hold her there and she would protect him. From me.
Marilyn ignored his obvious distress and pulled her hand free. “I’ll see you later, Mother Renard, Agent Bradford.”
Andy barely managed to hold his tongue until Marilyn was out of earshot. “Are you really okay?” Andy asked Simon intently.
Simon ground his teeth. “I’m better than I was when you left me. And I’d rather not stand around while she thinks of some way to take everything away from me—again.”
“I don’t want to take anything from you,” I corrected him, keeping my voice calm.
“You’re lying. You want to take me away from the Otherworld. You don’t understand how limiting this world is, how much I need Marilyn to realize my true potential.”
“She can’t help you do anything you couldn’t do by yourself if you tried, if you dedicated yourself. Inspiration can come from anywhere, you don’t need her. Not like she needs you.” I took a deep breath. “Simon, I know it seems like everything is perfect with her, and I know she acts like she cares for you. But please understand, the sidhe are not what they seem. The day will come when she’s finished with you, and she’ll either drain you dry, or abandon you to pine for her until you die. Literally.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Simon seethed. “We’re bonded. She’s everything to me, and I’m everything to her. Now just go away. Leave me alone.”
Andy put a hand on his shoulder. Simon tensed, and I had a wild fear that the boy was going to draw a weapon. His body language sang with barely restrained violence, far more intense than the situation warranted. Marilyn had to know he was unstable. She wouldn’t let him have a weapon.
Would she?
“Where were you the night of August 7th?” Andy asked.
Simon jerked away from him. “At Marilyn’s. I have a studio there. I was working.”
“Can anyone vouch for that?” Andy asked.
“I work alone most days. But Marilyn might have been there, you’ll have to ask her.” He looked at me. “The sidhe never lie. Unlike some people.”
Peasblossom poked out from under my hair. “They may not lie outright, but you’d be a fool to believe everything they say.”
Simon paused when he saw h
er. For just a second, his fury lifted. He looked at Peasblossom the way any young boy might have, with awe and wonder. Then the anger rushed back and his lip curled.
“You’re her pet. Of course you’d take her side.”
“You’ll see,” Peasblossom said sadly. “You’ll see that Marilyn doesn’t care about you. And it will be too late.”
Simon sneered and turned his back on us, ready to head into the main room of the opera house.
“Wait,” Andy said quietly.
Simon turned with a huff and crossed his arms, wrinkling his expensive suit. “What?”
“You heard about the theft today? The chalice that went missing?”
Some of the bravado leaked from his face, and Simon nodded. “Yeah. Marilyn was upset about it.”
“We found a set of fingerprints on the forgery.”
Simon looked back and forth between us. His brow knitted in confusion, but slowly understanding dawned. “Wait. You think I took it?” He laughed, a sharp burst of sound. “You think I stole it. From Marilyn. My patron. The one who loves me, who gave me a place in her world.” He loomed over me, almost managing to look as tall as Andy. “You want my prints. Fine. But it won’t mean anything. I’m an artist, and I’m Marilyn’s protege. I’ve been working with gold, and she lets me handle some of the exhibits so I can learn. Especially anything created by sidhe.” He sneered. “Not that I expect you to believe me. So go ahead.”
I settled Majesty in one arm and unzipped the waist pouch. Simon’s eyebrows twitched up at the sight of Bizbee, but he didn’t say anything. I fingerprinted him and compared his prints to the ones I’d lifted from the forgery.
Perfect match.
I waved a hand at Simon’s ink-stained fingers, cleaning them so he wouldn’t stain his suit. He glared at me as if I’d offended him.
“There, you have your elimination prints,” he snapped. “Is there anything else you plan to say before you’ll let me walk away?”
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