by Autumn Dawn
"Well,” she demurred, “You've never had a wife before."
"I was engaged, once, a long time ago,” he said, surprising her. “She never asked to see them."
"Oh.” The rest of the walk was made in silence.
The memorial was one among many in a lovely plot of mossy ground. It was nothing more than an obelisk of polished granite with a plaque, but Keilor caressed the stone with tenderness and a hint of longing. “My father, Dais, my mother Jacqueline and my brothers, Ellis and Mick. My mother was pregnant with my little sister, but she never had a name."
Jasmine took his hand and kissed it. “I've always liked the name Rain."
His brows shot up. “You wish to name her?” he asked, as if the idea had never occurred to him.
She shrugged. “Why not? It beats calling her baby, doesn't it?"
A wry smile twisted his lips, and he inclined his head to her. “Rain it is.” He pulled her to him, resting his hand against her stomach, holding her close.
His life had come full circle.
Keilor had further business to attend to that afternoon, so Jasmine decided to pay Rihlia another visit. Heaven knew she must be bored out of her gourd being cooped up in bed so much.
Rihlia's mother, Lady Rhapsody, was just leaving as Jasmine arrived, and she looked relieved to see her. “Jasmine, dear, you're just the person I needed to see,” she said, taking Jasmine's hands. “I am so worried about my daughter. Could you spare a little time to take some tea with me? There are some things I'd like to discuss with you."
"Uh, sure,” Jasmine agreed, pulling her hands discreetly from Rhapsody's cold, dry grasp. She'd never been comfortable around the stately older lady, something she'd attributed to the aura of royalty that cloaked her. But, hey, if she was worried about Rihlia, Jasmine would be glad to give her all the help she could. “Lead the way,” she invited with a sweep of her hand.
The suite of rooms that belonged to Rhapsody were very close by, and within a minute Jasmine was entering the main living quarters. It was very ... white.
Snow white walls broken only by crystal framed pictures of family members held a room full of ivory wood and white upholstery. The carpet was white. A regimented row of white statue-topped pedestals marched along the walls.
Jasmine felt as if she'd stepped inside a snowball. It was not a comfortable sensation.
Rhapsody directed her to sit in one of the wing chairs while she prepared the tea, and Jasmine twiddled her thumbs and eyed her colorless environment, trying not to shiver. Oh, what she'd give for a bucket of paint and a few brightly woven Indian blankets. Naughty thoughts of redecoration schemes involving stuffed moose heads, loud slip covers and a few busts of Elvis kept her occupied until Rhapsody returned with the tea tray bearing unadorned white china. Come to think of it, she was wearing white today as well.
I bet I can guess your favorite color, Jasmine thought, biting her tongue so she wouldn't say it. She might have grown up a hooligan, but she still had a healthy respect for her elders. “Thank you,” she said instead, accepting the scalding cup of tea and setting it on her saucer to cool. “So what's on your mind?” she inquired as Rhapsody made herself comfortable in the chair opposite the tea table.
Looking a little surprised at Jasmine's disregard for the formalities of polite chatter, Rhapsody folded her hands in her lap and surveyed her guest. “I am concerned with my daughter's despondency. She has been very emotional since the attack, and I can not seem to make her open up to me."
Jasmine raised her thumbs and shrugged her right shoulder. “Well, there's your problem right there. You don't make Rih do anything. Nobody does."
A hint of coolness slipped into Rhapsody's voice. “She responds well enough for Jayems."
Staring at the colorless tea set, Jasmine laced her fingers together over her stomach and twiddled her thumbs. “Granted, but there's elements there that you just can't duplicate."
"She loves him, is that it?"
One look at Rhapsody's tight lips was enough to convince Jasmine that she was on shaky ground. “I'm sure that she cares for you, too."
It was the wrong thing to say.
"Platitudes will not serve me."
Sucking her bottom lip in, Jasmine suppressed a shiver as her hostess took on the unyielding nature of one of her statues. If she'd ever harbored any doubts that Rihlia's mother disliked her, they were all wiped away in that instant.
Stalling for time, she dipped a finger in her too hot tea, started to raise it to her lips and then froze. She reached for her bone white napkin and carefully wiped her finger clean, and it was not because she'd suddenly remembered her manners.
The tea was poisoned.
She sat back, staring at Rihlia's mother for a long moment. Finally she said, “It's a bit harder to poison a human when she's wearing one of these.” She raised her clenched right fist, the back of her knuckles facing her would-be murderess, and the symbiont flashed with silver anger. It was comfortable, fat and happy, and it did not like threats to its tasty hostess. It had been the one to sense the danger and send a warning tingle of awareness to Jasmine.
The change came so quickly that Jasmine almost missed Rhapsody's shift from human to other. There was barely time to register shock at the sight of a white Haunt before she leapt for Jasmine's throat, claws bared.
There was no time to leap away.
The force of the dive took both Jasmine and the chair over backwards, shattering china and splashing poisoned tea on the way.
Keilor's friends had been even better teachers than Jasmine had realized. Without thought, Jasmine's body braced for the fall even as her legs came up to shove Rhapsody off with surprising force. The white Haunt went flying, and Jasmine just made it to her feet before Rhapsody rushed her again. Forced to act, Jasmine sidestepped and slashed at Rhapsody with the three long knuckle-claws her symbiont formed, and the Haunt hissed as three raw wounds opened across her arm and abdomen, leaving the white gown hanging in tatters.
Hammering started at the heavy door.
"That's two,” Jasmine warned her grimly, blocking out the sound as an irritation that could cost her life. Mathin would have had her head for such hesitation, but dang it, she'd never taken a life before, and she didn't want to start with her best friend's mother.
"Don't make me kill you,” she grated, her voice raw. For her child's sake, she couldn't afford to hesitate again.
Rhapsody's lip curled, and a frightening madness flashed in her eyes as she charged.
The symbiont flashed as Jasmine struck back, aiming for the white Haunt's stomach. A split second later her adversary was clutching her stomach, trying in vain to hold in the spill of intestines. Blood ran down her legs, a spreading crimson stain on the white carpet.
The door burst open, and the Haunt barely checked before coming to Rhapsody's aid. One rough hand closed over Jasmine's right biceps just as her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees buckled.
Unfortunately, her faint lasted less than ten seconds, and she came to just in time to be hit full in the nose by the smell of slaughter. Dazed, she found herself on her knees beside the steaming body, emptying her guts. The blood from the carpet soaked onto her hands, and with a whimper, she crawled two feet away, pressing her swimming head to her forearm, waiting for the surging darkness to stop.
"Here,” someone said, grabbing her hair and coaxing her head up. Raziel wiped her mouth with a damp napkin. “What happened?"
"Poisoned tea,” she stammered, so softly that no one else heard. He let her go and went to collect a sample from the wreckage around the tea table.
The next few minutes were a confusion of raised voices, screams and accusations as Rhapsody's sister arrived on the scene and started demanding explanations and Jasmine's execution.
"She killed her! How can you just stand there!” Lady Portae shrieked, kneeling at the body of her sister, who would forever remain in Haunt. “Do something!"
Jasmine hid her face in her hands, forge
tting the blood until she'd smeared it all over her face.
"What happened?"
Jasmine looked up at the sound of Keilor's stern, concerned voice. His lips tightened at the sight of sight of her pale, blood smeared face and contracted pupils. He'd already heard Raziel's report and sent him off with a sample of the tea, but he needed more details. “What happened?” he asked again, more gently.
Jasmine looked up, saw Rihlia's stricken face, and her throat closed over the words. How could she tell her best friend that her mother had tried to kill her, twice? Instead, she closed her eyes and bent her head, trying to will her ears shut. The sound of Portae's shrill voice faded as somebody dragged her off. Silence roared in the white room.
"Talk to me, Jasmine,” Keilor said again, a hint of fear for her in his commanding tone. “Tell us what happened."
"Nothing,” she whispered and winced. Those weren't the words that she needed, were nothing close to what he wanted from her, and she knew it.
Forcing her chin up, he stared into her eyes, giving her head a little shake when her wild eyes darted to the tense Jayems and pale, bright-eyed Rihlia.
"I am in charge of justice, here, wife, and you will tell me what happened. I want the truth from you, and I want it now. What happened here?"
A low groan escaped her at his compelling command, and she wrenched her bloody face away, trying to escape his will.
He stood up, looked at her and circled the room, studying the furniture. “You sat here, didn't you?” he asked with implacable purpose, pointing to the overturned chair. “It carries your scent.” She nodded, biting her lip. Wariness churned inside her, but it wasn't a betrayal to answer questions whose answers he already knew, was it?
Cocking his head, he studied the overturned table and tea service, his face thoughtful, dangerous. “The direction that this table is tipped in tells me that Rhapsody leapt over it to get at you, likely knocking the chair over at the same time.” He moved closer until he was standing over the footstool that she'd scrambled up on, looking down at her scared face. “What made her do that, wife?"
Jasmine closed her eyes, shutting him out, trying to ignore the way he kept calling her wife, reminding her of his intimate authority over her. “She just did."
He stared at her, the fathomless darkness in his eyes weighting her, making it difficult to breathe. “Before or after you brought up the poisoned tea?"
"It wa—” she snapped her mouth shut, choking off the denial. She couldn't lie to him. But what could she say that wouldn't hurt her friend?
It didn't matter. He drew his own conclusions anyway. His expression savage, Keilor glanced at Jayems. “Are you satisfied with what went on for the moment, Lord Jayems? I can bring you more information after I question.... “he trailed off for a moment, considered Jasmine, and finished, “The witness."
"But—” Rihlia tried to break in, bewildered.
Jayems cut her off. “Go,” he said, jerking his head towards the door. “I will deal with the rest here."
He said nothing on the way back to their rooms, but the moment Keilor opened the door, he rounded on her, hissing, “Are you trying to get yourself killed, woman? Is that what you want?"
Cold lips trembling, she said nothing, just stared up at him and shook with shock.
Swearing, he called for a bath and then looked away for a moment, clenching his fists. Taking a deep breath for patience and another for his fraying nerves, he told her, “Do you know what would have happened to you at the hands of another Haunt, wife? I can think of many that would use your silence as an excuse to get rid of you forever. Why are you being silent about this?” His jaw ground. “You are risking not only yourself, but our child."
A defeated sigh escaped her. “Wiley doesn't deserve this,” she whispered, her shoulders slumping.
The bath shut off with a click, and Keilor shut his eyes and shunted his adrenaline to the task off undressing his lover, who was still covered with the gore of her kill. “You accomplish nothing for Rihlia by holding your tongue Dragonfly. Jayems will make certain that she is told everything."
At the endearment, her breath hitched, and she flung herself at Keilor, half naked and crying.
"Hush, little one,” he soothed, stroking her back. “Just tell me what happened. I know it wasn't your fault.” He could not relax until he had every detail. Then and only then could he deal with her emotions, and almost as urgently, his own.
She pulled away a little, and he stripped off the rest of her splattered clothes, helping her into the bath and sitting on the edge. Slowly her shaking stopped as he bathed her, and she finally told him the complete tale. Only then did the tension of duty drain from him, leaving behind a flood of feeling and a need for comfort that could only be dealt with in one way.
Jasmine was just as frantic as he was when he urged her from the hot water and into his arms, uncaring that his clothes got soaked, encouraging her as she ripped them off in her frenzy to get to him. He dried her with his hands and the heat of their passion, giving her love, making it right, making everything all right again.
Need.
Heat.
Wanting.
They took each other in the depths of the big bed, and satisfied them all.
Jasmine felt half dead with emotion afterwards, barely rousing herself to whimper a protest when her lover withdrew, leaving her only half of a whole.
"Shh,” he told her, kissing her temple and pulling her into the comfort of his arms. “I have to go, but not for a little while. You need to rest."
For a little while there was quiet. Then, “Is it always so hard, Keilor?"
Sighing, he gathered her closer for a moment, understanding immediately what she was asking. “No, and more's the pity."
Jayems’ face was savage as he paced in front of his desk. “How many more vipers are we going to find at our ankles, Keilor? Or should I be asking how long before one of them sinks its fangs in again?"
Keilor crossed his arms and waited. He was not the only one tired of murder attempts centering around his wife. A thought struck with sudden force. “Does Rhapsody have anything to do with Yesande, Jayems?” He shook his head, answering his own question. “Of course not. She would not approve a strike against her own daughter, or would she?” he asked, leveling a questioning look at his cousin.
"Who can say now? ‘The dead are notoriously tight-lipped',” Jayems said, quoting a grisly proverb. “A search of her rooms revealed nothing, not that I thought it would, considering how our luck has been running.” He put his fists on his desk and leaned forward, allowing his loose hair to fall forward, concealing his face. “How are they getting past us? We're neither fools nor innocents, and I'd swear on my soul that Knightin was a good man once, and he gave us nothing—nothing!—under the truth drug.” Shoving his hair back, he straightened and looked at Keilor with hard eyes. “I have never seen anyone resist Nerasia the way that he did today. It was almost as if—” For a moment he became utterly still. Only his eyes moved, as if visually tracing a thought in the air above his carpet.
When he looked up, his eyes glittered with a solution. “Jasmine said that Yesande experimented on her, didn't she? Took samples of her blood?"
Keilor nodded. He did not like to remember that time.
Jayems leaned forward. “The Ronin, our symbiotic friends, are human. We've had so little contact with them. Who's to say that they don't still breed Sylphs?"
Keilor closed his eyes, considering the unthinkable impact of that possibility. “That would be a very bad thing.” His eyes snapped back open, glittering with the same genius that gleamed in Jayems'. “But it would explain their sudden interest in opening communications with us. Yesande discovering a cache of Sylphs, craving their power, conducting experiments ... If several of our women suddenly went missing, I would be looking for a way to infiltrate the enemy and scout around, too."
"And Jasmine is a Sylph...."
"A natural lodestone for them, and a possible ally,�
�� Keilor finished. “No wonder they risked bringing a young woman with them. Considering what Jasmine will do for a friend, it was a thundering good strategy."
"And just how did they know about that little trait of hers?” Jayems asked knowingly, and Keilor inclined his head. “This is all starting to come together, cousin, and I think that it's about time that we had a little chat with our visiting dignitaries. And Mathin, of course."
A dangerous smile curved Keilor's mouth. “Of course."
Chapter 16
Fifteen Ronin, four Haunt and Jasmine sat around Jayems’ table, preparing to play a game of poker involving people's lives.
Jayems opened the game by dealing Jackson a question. “Have you had any strange disappearances among your people recently? Women, in particular?"
Jackson's head came up. “We were given to understand that they were Sylph.” His impersonal gaze flickered over Jasmine. “Not that we are able to tell one way or another."
"And you, Mathin? Dare I hope that you have useful information about this?"
"I confirmed that at least one of the missing women was a Sylph—I'd met her before. I'm guessing about the others, but given Urseya's interest in Jasmine, the blood tests that she took, and all that we know about her, it seems a good guess that she's after the pheromone."
Jayems glanced at Keilor. “Any chance that she's already got it?” He quickly explained about Knightin and the Nerasia and Rihlia's mother.
"But I saw Knightin,” Jasmine protested. “His eyes were perfectly lucid. He didn't have that stoned look."
"Stoned?” Keilor inquired.
She colored. “Drugged, half-stupid.” When his eyes narrowed, she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Don't worry, I was far too busy trying not to drool over you myself to notice if you looked dazed."
He lifted a brow, but the scowl left his face just the same.
"That still doesn't explain his resistance to the truth serum,” Jayems pointed out. “Did you notice anything strange about Rhapsody?"