Samantha listened with trepidation as Tain described the meeting of No More Nightmares he’d attended and their treatment of Leda. He twined his hands behind his head as he talked, which made his muscles move beneath her in all kinds of nice ways.
“The woman in charge,” Tain said, “this Ms. Townsend, she had details about how to incapacitate a demon long enough to cut out its heart.”
Samantha propped herself on her elbows and frowned. “That’s not new. I’ve been hearing complaints from the demon and vamp communities about such organizations as long as I’ve been a cop. Someone is always passing out pamphlets on the best way to stake a vampire or behead a demon. Occasionally the fanatics go on a rampage, human customers get hurt, someone gets arrested or sued, and the group dies down awhile.” Samantha traced a scar on Tain’s hard chest as she spoke, hating the pain it represented but liking the strong, even beat of his heart beneath it. “Logan and I can check out what the groups have been up to lately. Maybe one of them has gotten out of hand.”
“Maybe.” Tain didn’t sound convinced.
“I’ll interview this Ms. Townsend, though. She sounds interesting.”
He gave short laugh. “Bloodthirsty is the word I’d use.”
Samantha shrugged. “I can’t really blame these people, you know. Last year was horrible. The police stopped responding—my mother disappeared, demon and vamp gangs took over the neighborhoods. The only one helping was Septimus, and he could only do so much. Sounds like this Ms. Townsend and her followers are afraid the chaos will happen again.”
“It won’t.” Tain’s eyes were hard. “I won’t let it.”
“You’re only one man, you know—I mean, one Immortal.”
“I am enough. I won’t let demons kill humans.”
“You’ve reassured me,” Samantha said. “But how will you make the other ten million people in Los Angeles believe it?”
“You’ll convince them.”
Samantha gave him a wry laugh. “You’re confident.”
Tain’s blue eyes warmed, which started fires in her blood. “You have more power than you know, Samantha. You even saved my ass, as you like to say.”
“That’s different. That was easy.”
Tain raised his brows. “That’s what you call easy?”
“It was easy, because I wanted to save you.”
“Why did you want to?” He sounded as though he truly wanted to know.
“You needed saving.” Samantha let a teasing note enter her voice. “You were the best-looking Immortal there, and I wanted one of my own.”
“I was a long way gone in madness by that time.” His frown returned, the distant look that spoke of pain. “None of it seemed real anymore. Except you.”
Samantha remembered how blue Tain’s eyes had been when he’d looked at her through the darkness during the battle in Seattle, and then the terrible grief and sorrow in them when he’d healed her later. “If I was so wonderful,” Samantha asked in a soft voice, “why did you leave Seattle without saying good-bye to me?”
His eyes were just as blue as he looked at her now. Though the grief had lessened, sorrow lingered. “Because I didn’t trust myself near you.”
Samantha’s heart beat faster. “You’re near me now.”
“I know.” Tain brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “I need to be here.”
For how long? Until Samantha felt safe or he did? When Tain healed, and the world was safe for demons again, would he move on?
The peal of Samantha’s cell phone cut through her thoughts, and she groaned. “What now?”
The phone’s readout showed her it was Logan. “Can’t I have a night off?” she bleated when she answered.
“You need to get down here, Samantha,” Logan said, sounding more serious than she’d ever heard him. “There’s been another demon murder.”
Samantha’s thoughts went instantly to her father, and her heart leapt to her throat. “What murder? Who?”
“The matriarch of the Lamiah clan. She was found in her own bedroom with her heart cut out.”
“How the hell did this happen?” Samantha shouted to Logan as they entered the matriarch’s mansion.
Tain felt the tingle of death magic touch him as he strode behind Samantha into the house, his hands on the reassuring bulk of his swords under his duster. Tain had accompanied Samantha without them arguing about it—he’d simply dressed and waited for her in her pickup, giving her no choice.
The glittering opulence of the Beverley Hills mansion was infested with a plastic-garbed forensics team roaming through it as uniformed police interviewed the residents of the house. The remains of the protection spell Tain had cast over the mansion the previous night lingered, but Tain saw plenty of death-magic wards pulsating around the door sills and windows, felt the weight of them.
Logan had met Tain and Samantha at the remains of the gate, grim, not questioning Tain’s presence. Logan explained what had happened. “The majordomo left the matriarch in her bedroom at seven this evening to ready herself for dinner, as usual. The matriarch apparently always took an hour or so for herself after the business of the day and before dining, often with guests, though tonight she was to eat alone. When the majordomo knocked on the door at eight, the matriarch didn’t answer. Majordomo grew alarmed, used her key to open the door, and found the matriarch dead on the floor. Heart cut out, same as the others.”
“And where is it?” Samantha asked him as they strode through the hall toward the elevator. “The heart, I mean.”
“No one’s found it yet. Chest cavity open, heart gone. Not that I could tell with all the blood, but that’s what the medical examiner said.”
“Is her body still here?”
“In the bedroom,” Logan answered. “But it’s nothing you’d want to see.”
Samantha squared her shoulders. “I should look anyway.”
Logan shrugged. “I can’t stop you.”
Death magic pressed around Tain, mitigated somewhat by the presence of the police, most of them human. Whoever had killed the matriarch had not disturbed the mansion’s wards at all. Interesting.
Samantha continued her questions to Logan as they rode down the elevator to the matriarch’s underground quarters. “Have you started making note of who went into and out of the house all day?”
“Sure,” Logan said, “But security has apparently been a nightmare since the Djowlan demons blew up the gates. The guards patrolled, but it’s not the same as having a huge gate and electronic surveillance of every nook and cranny. Plus they’ve been cleaning up from the attack, having repairmen coming in from outside, that kind of thing.”
“Does the majordomo have a list of the repair companies and the workers they sent?”
“Yes. She’s a frosty bitch, but highly organized.” Logan shook his head. “I imagine she has to be with this job.”
They’d reached the matriarch’s bedroom, and they walked inside. The body lay where it must have fallen, the stench of it terrible. The matriarch had been dressed in a white linen suit and low-heeled ivory pumps. The crisp suit made the drenched blood all the more stark, every splash sharp edged against the white.
Samantha glanced once at the chest cavity that had been ripped open, then quickly looked away. Tain roved his gaze around the body, noting that the matriarch was wearing a necklace of pearls and that her face registered shock and amazement.
“She didn’t try to assume her demon form,” Samantha said.
“I saw that,” Logan said. “She might have been drugged first, like Nadia.”
Samantha nodded. “That’s possible. The medical examiner can let us know.”
She turned away from the gruesome body. The entire room was neat and tidy, an empty glass sitting in the middle of a doily next to a chair that faced a television set.
“Television on or off when she was found?” Samantha asked.
Logan scanned his notes. “Off, the majordomo said. Glass was empty except for a few ice cubes, an
d yes, the dregs have been taken for testing. Before you ask, the door was locked and not forced. The majordomo had to open it with her key.”
“So the matriarch finished her drink, stood up, and met her killer in the middle of the floor,” Samantha concluded. “Either the killer had a key and walked in, or the matriarch let him or her in herself.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Just great. I love a locked-room mystery.”
Tain looked down at the body again, noting absently that the forensic team working in the room gave him a wide berth. “No rival demon should have been able to enter the house,” he said. “The windows and doors are strongly warded, plus some of my own protective magic is still here.”
“So it was someone in the Lamiah clan?” Samantha asked. “Better and better.”
“Or a human,” Tain answered. “One of those repairmen or whatever other people came in and out of here today.”
Samantha sighed, hands on hips. Tain liked the way she looked in her square-cut blazer, her sleek hair falling straight to her shoulders. When she’d gotten dressed, she’d started to scrape her mussed hair into a quick bun, until he’d pointed out the love bite he’d left on her neck. She’d flushed and let her hair drop.
“I want to interview the majordomo,” Samantha told Logan. “And anyone else who admits being in this basement today, plus anyone who was even seen down here. Double-check the majordomo’s list of who came in and out with whoever the guards say they admitted. And find a Ms. Townsend of a group called No More Nightmares, one of those anti-demon petition organizations. It’s a long shot, but I’d love to know what she was doing tonight.”
“Easy enough,” Logan said, jotting notes. “There’s something else I’d better tell you,” he added, glancing at the forensics team.
“What’s that?”
Logan stepped to her and Tain and lowered his voice. “A few of the demons here are saying you did this, or at least had it done.”
Samantha stared at Logan in shock. “What? Why in the names of all the gods would I want to kill the matriarch?”
“Because, partner,” Logan said, “the majordomo told me shortly before you arrived that the matriarch was thinking about having you take her place when she retired. Groom you for the position. The demons who live here are saying that maybe you decided to get a jump on things.”
Chapter Fourteen
Samantha took a startled step backward to find Tain’s strong bulk behind her. “Someone’s feeding you a wad of bull,” she said. “You weren’t here when I met the matriarch. She hated me on sight.”
“New blood, is what they’re saying,” Logan went on, watching her carefully with his wolf’s eyes. “The matriarch thought you’d bring a dose of common sense and a taste of the outside world into an inbred culture. Her very words. Well, her very words as told to me by the majordomo.”
“Shit.” Samantha’s head started to throb, and she rubbed her temples. “I need to talk to that majordomo. What’s her name?”
“She calls herself Ariadne.”
“Fine. I’ll interview her in one of the reception rooms upstairs.” She looked at Tain. “I suppose you’re coming with me?”
“In a minute,” Tain rumbled. “There’s something I want to look at first.”
Samantha didn’t like that she felt bereft when he walked away without explanation. He’d resumed wearing jeans, shirt and coat, no more delectable kilt, but he looked plenty good even so. Strong too. She’d felt so close to him tonight, so connected, and this murder had ripped her away from him and into the real world again.
She sighed and took the notes Logan gave her, then marched upstairs alone. She wished she could send Logan home—the wolf in him must be having a hard time with all this blood, death magic, and demons. But they had to do their jobs.
One of the ornate reception rooms had a polished antique desk with serpentine legs standing in the exact center of the room. Samantha plopped her notebook on this opulent desk and lowered herself to the chair, wishing the whole house didn’t intimidate her. The careful décor of this quiet room reminded her of the matriarch—her every hair in place, every finger decorated with tasteful rings.
The rings had still been on her body, along with her circlet of pearls. Whoever had done this was out to kill, in a very specific way, and hadn’t bothered with robbery.
Samantha rubbed her temples again. Logan had listed the names of the two companies who’d come out to repair the security system and start rebuilding the gate and gatehouse, but it was an even bet that if the culprit had come in with them, he or she was long gone now.
Ariadne, the majordomo, who was as stiff and cool as the matriarch had been, entered the room. She refused to sit down, so Samantha stood as well.
Ariadne repeated her story of knocking on the matriarch’s door and unlocking it to find the matriarch dead. She went on to relate what had happened during the day, giving the details on who had entered and exited the house and when. The repair people had stayed outside, except for those who’d gone to the basement to look at the wiring, and they’d entered the basement through an outside door in the back. The maintenance area, the majordomo said primly, was unconnected to the matriarch’s apartments.
Samantha nodded and jotted notes. When she finished, she laid down her pen and gave Ariadne an even stare. “Someone is trying to tell me that the matriarch talked about grooming me to be her replacement.”
Ariadne’s thin mouth pinched. “She did.”
“Why?” Samantha asked, bewildered. “She didn’t like me.”
“No, she didn’t.” Ariadne looked Samantha up and down as though she agreed with the matriarch’s assessment. “She thought you were disrespectful, full of yourself, and far too modern in your thinking. But she also believed that those were the characteristics of a good matriarch. She’d been thinking of retiring for some time, and planned to start training you to take over.”
“How would that work, exactly?” Samantha tried to organize her spinning thoughts. “As a half-blood, I thought I wouldn’t even be admitted into the clan.”
Ariadne folded her hands. “A matriarch can choose whomever she wishes as her successor, though that choice must be approved by the heads of the most powerful families in the clan.”
“So they . . . what? Vote on it?”
“Sometimes they vote. Sometimes they fight to the death.”
Samantha flinched. “Oh.”
“A matriarch has to be strong enough to defend her clan,” Ariadne said.
Samantha tried to push aside her unease. “I saw that the matriarch died without the chance to revert to her demon form.”
Ariadne nodded. “Which is highly suspicious, don’t you think?”
Of course it was highly suspicious—that was why they were investigating. Samantha hid her irritation and asked the majordomo if anything out of the ordinary had happened that day.
“Apart from the repairs to the security system and the gate the Djowlans blew up, no.”
“Why did the matriarch ask my father to remain behind the night of the attack?” Samantha asked, trying to sound businesslike.
Ariadne looked annoyed. “I really have no idea. You’d better ask him.”
Samantha held on to her temper and asked a few more questions about where everyone was and what they were doing for the hour the matriarch was alone in her room, but she didn’t learn much more. As far as Ariadne knew, most of the staff had been in the kitchen or dining room preparing for dinner, or out if it had been their night off. Ariadne herself had finished up some phone calls in her first-floor office then gone downstairs to fetch the matriarch.
Which left Ariadne alone during the time in question, Samantha noted. She’d have to find out who the majordomo had called and how long those conversations had lasted.
“Did the matriarch have a—” Samantha broke off, trying to think of the appropriate word. The matriarch was a widow, according to Logan’s notes, but the word boyfriend didn’t seem quite right
for a woman like her. “An intimate relationship with anyone?”
“A lover?” Ariadne supplied. “Of course she did.”
Samantha picked up her pen again. “Does he live here? What’s his name?”
“She is attending a conference in San Diego.”
Samantha suppressed her surprise. “She’ll have to be contacted.”
“I have already seen to it.”
Of course you have. Ariadne had to be one of the coldest women Samantha had ever encountered, and that included the matriarch. Ariadne had been her second in command, and now the woman would be out of a job.
Samantha told her she could leave, and Ariadne took the dismissal with poor grace. Once Ariadne had departed, closing the door with a soft but firm click, Samantha sank to the gilded desk chair with a sigh.
She preferred cases with obvious culprits and motives—in most cases, Samantha and Logan could walk onto the scene, discern what supernatural creature had done the crime, or had had a crime done to them, round up suspects, and have the guilty party in jail within a day or so, sometimes within the hour. A covert murder of a high-ranking and very rich member of paranormal society, committed under the noses of the best security in Los Angeles, was not something Samantha looked forward to tackling. High-profile cases got a lot of press, and police often didn’t look very good in the stories.
Tain walked in. It dismayed Samantha how much better she felt the moment he was near her again. She was used to being independent, and now she found herself watching for this tall man, listening for his step. Probably because she’d tasted his life essence, Samantha reasoned, and the demon in her wanted more. She feared the wanting would turn into a craving, and then she wouldn’t be able to do without him.
Not that Tain had an average life essence. He was the son of the goddess Cerridwen, raised by a hard-working Roman soldier in Briton, and his life essence was amazing, heady, fulfilling.
Samantha sighed and laid down her pen. “The repercussions of this are going to be bad,” she said. She wasn’t sure if she meant the matriarch’s murder or her growing need for Tain. Both, probably.
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