The Sin Eater (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 5)

by Jennifer Harlow

  “You seem to know a lot about me too,” I point out.

  “I compiled a dossier when Oliver phoned me back in December when you returned to the state and I even helped a bit to locate you when you were abducted. When Oliver told me you returned to San Diego three months ago I kept an eye and ear on you. Three months of nothing then I blinked and you were in my enemy’s bed. I was shocked how quickly you moved in with him. Shed blood for him. Betrayed Oliver again for him. I—”

  “I never betrayed Oliver,” I cut in.

  “Really? It was my understanding you and Oliver were as thick as thieves before then you threw him over for some werewolf and that even though you slayed your fiancée to save our Oliver, you quickly abandoned him without a word.”

  “That’s not…I didn’t throw him over. We were never a couple. And I didn’t abandon him either. I came home to recover. And not just my body. As you may have noticed I haven’t exactly been the picture of mental health and good decision making even before I came back. I almost got Oliver killed. I couldn’t…face him. Or that. I figured he’d either hate me or force me to deal with what I did to them both, and I wasn’t strong enough for either, okay?”

  “So you were a coward and instead of speaking to him, you betrayed him with Connor.”

  “I didn’t betray him! We’re not a couple.”

  “Darling, one need not be physical lovers to betray a person who loves you,” she points out.

  I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at this chick. “It was never my intention to hurt or betray anyone. Especially not him, okay? Oliver didn’t factor into my decision to date Connor at all. I just wanted to…not be me for a while. To have fun. That’s it. That’s all. How the hell could I have seen all this coming?” I open my eyes. “Go on. Tell me.”

  Antonia frowns. “You knew what he was, Agent Alexander. Who he was. What he was capable of. Oliver warned you. From what I hear your family did as well. It does not sound as if you were deluded enough to think you could change him. No, any armchair psychologist would tell you perhaps you chose him because a part of you hoped he would kill you. That his darkness would swallow you whole.”

  My mouth flops open. “You don’t…you don’t know me, lady,” I snap.

  “I am over six centuries old, darling. I have known many yous. Mind you, you have more reason than most to act and feel the way you do, and I have always been a huge proponent of personal freedom, so if you desired Connor to turn you into a husk then dispose of you as he saw fit, it is your life, Agent Alexander. Have at it, darling.” Her face contorts to form a menacing glare. My stomach seizes. “However, not only has your little brush with self-destruction impacted my livelihood, but it has also put one of my dearest friends in mortal peril. I would have killed you the moment I heard you were entangled with Connor, but Oliver pled for your life. He even threated me with the true death should I ever move against you. I never knew he had such backbone. I feel I should point out, darling, he even came to San Diego knowing full well Connor would flay him alive at the first opportunity. You mean everything to him, little girl. And the fact you refuse to even acknowledge that fact makes me want to rip your ungrateful throat out, forget helping you clean up your mess. Make no mistake, Agent Alexander, the only reason I am providing you sanctuary instead of a shallow grave is my friend requires protection and would not accept it unless I extended the same courtesy to you. Are we clear?”

  The shakes the brandy had helped reduce returned during her speech. “I understand,” I whisper, looking down at my trembling hands. “You must really love him.”

  “To know him is to love him, darling. Even you have to admit that,” she says smugly. “He and I traveled in the same circles in Paris for years. He was simply one of many I played with, at least until my consort Jean suddenly died. Hit by a carriage, trampled by horses, just a freak accident. I was devastated. Inconsolable. He was one of the great loves of my life. I withdrew from society, locked myself in our house and could not find the drive even to eat. And the only one of my so-called friends, vampires I had known for centuries, who came to check to see if I were truly dead was our Oliver. Of course he played the visit off, saying he solely wished for the name of Jean’s tailor. But he brought me blood as well. As he did the next night, and the next, and so on until I could actually face leaving my crypt and re-enter the world. He remained by my side every step on my path back to life. I suppose I fell in love with him for that. I certainly saw another side no one else seemed to, himself included. His compassion. His strength. Yet he always denied these traits when I exalted them to his face.”

  “Yeah, he still does that,” I say.

  “It took me years to realize he acted that way was because it was far easier to be the lover and fool than live up to his full potential. Not to mention it is fine if he fails wearing that mask but if he fails or is rejected being his true self then he may crumble. I pushed him to remove that mask, and there were moments here and there where I succeeded, but perhaps I pushed too hard or too often. I demanded when patience was the correct avenue. I just knew he was capable of more. Or perhaps…he did not trust me enough to be his true self around me. We were together over five years. We crossed an ocean and continent together. Braved storms, Indians, settlers, the elements together. He kept me sane as I built the foundation of my empire. Built the foundation on Los Angeles itself. Yet, for whatever reason, he felt the need to revert to old habits. I gave him an opportunity I knew he could thrive at, and he squandered it in favor of adventuring and whoring. We were barely a couple by then, I was far too busy I suppose, and perhaps drawing him into my empire was an attempt to keep him in the fold. Instead it drove him away. I did not see or hear from him for close to seventy-five years. He admitted he had been avoiding me. I told him there had been no need. I had forgiven us both decades before.”

  “You don’t seem the forgiving type,” I say.

  She smiles. “I forgive fumblings, especially those I helped incite. We are all imperfect beings. Mistakes occur. As long as we learn from those mistakes, help clean up the aftermath, and they never occur again, forgiveness should always be the goal. Even of ourselves. And I missed my friend. He apologized, as did I, and we moved on. Lucky for you, no?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. “Twice over actually. You know it was I who convinced Oliver and Lord Peter of Washington D.C. to suggest our Oliver join the F.R.E.A.K.S.?”

  “What?”

  “Have you heard this tale? You know how Oliver came to be a F.R.E.A.K? What does Mona McGregor call it, ‘The Goodnight Massacre?’ Witches do tend to be overdramatic.”

  “I read the case file. I even met Anna West, but I never asked Oliver too many questions. He seemed uncomfortable talking about it.”

  “The man grows a conscious at the strangest times,” Antonia says, rolling her eyes.

  “Faced with the dilemma of killing a child is not a strange time to grow a conscience,” I snap. “What he did was incredibly brave, especially when he knew it could mean his own death.”

  “He phoned me from a gas station right after he dropped the girl off with the police. I had never heard him so frightened. He did not know how to proceed. He knew Peter, would be legally bound to execute him and the other idiots, but he just kept going on and on about those dead humans and the child. I told him to return to Washington, that I would speak to Peter on his behalf. Of course Peter was cleaning up another mess with the werewolves and could not be reached until almost dawn. We were all up well past dawn trying to untangle the new crisis. Oliver seemed resigned to prison or worse, but when Peter mentioned the F.R.E.A.K.S. were understaffed, I knew it was a perfect solution. I even called in my favors with George to get him to agree. There were so many back door dealings, werewolves with vampires, vampires with witches that day, I lost count,” she chuckles.

  “Wait, you know George?”

  “Oh, I know George,” she says with a sly grin. I don’t want to know how she knows my boss, but I can guess. “I am a membe
r of his little co-op even. Oliver’s position was one of its first success stories. And I hear he has been an adequate addition for the past thirty years. Not to mention had I not intervened, you two never would have met. You are welcome.”

  Vampires, always with the grandstanding. “Then thank you. Twice over.”

  “Then let’s begin showing our appreciation, shall we? I need to hear everything that transpired between you and Connor since your introduction at Christmas. Any business deals, any acts as Lord you witnessed or overheard, especially as they relate to me.” She punches something into her computer before moving the webcam on top. “And I am recording this. Speaking is Lady Antonia Sabatini of the Los Angeles territory interviewing Special Agent Beatrice Alexander in regards to Lord Connor McInnis of the San Diego territory. Let us begin with your first contact with Lord Connor. When did it occur and what were the circumstances?”

  I spend the next hour plus sharing every, every intimate detail of my relationship with that monster. Antonia grills me as if I were a hostile witness on the stand at the trial of the century. The more I hear myself speak the more I realize just how much that psycho played me. How insidious his machinations were. How he could explain away everything, how he emotionally manipulated me, and I just refused to listen to my instincts. How surface he kept it all because he knew that was what I wanted. I wanted him to have the control, how I think deep down I wanted to be manipulated. I walked into his trap with my eyes almost wide open. I knew what he was. I knew he was a scorpion just as I knew I was the frog. I let the bastard ride on my back anyway and yet I’m still shocked he stung me. Not just stung me but stung my entire frog family. The bastard’s even trying to sting the tadpoles.

  Antonia remains neutral, her expression not giving away even a hint of an emotion. She no doubt thinks I’m just pathetic and weak. The more I hear myself talk, I sure as hell think it. And in one final act of humiliation, I pull down my shirt to show the knife wound on my chest.

  “And you never gave your consent to become his familiar at any stage of your relationship?” Antonia asks as I cover myself.

  “I didn’t even know what a familiar was until Oliver explained it to me after the…assault occurred.”

  “So you never consented to become his consort, familiar, or have any position in his court or business?”

  “No. I was just…his girlfriend. Except for attending a meeting regarding the orchestrated altercation between your men and him, and the Moon Lipmann investigation and execution, I had no dealings in his professional life. Or wanted to.”

  “But he did admit to coming into my territory to incite my men with the sole purpose of instigating a fight and attempting to force you into a familiar bond to gain control of your psychokinetic power to use in a duel against me.”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Thank you, Agent Alexander. Interview ending at 2:23 AM.” She shuts off the webcam with a smile my way. “Excellent job, darling. I shall be sending this recording to the King. We may, may have enough now to begin banishment proceedings.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “I do not know,” Antonia says. “A week perhaps. I—”

  “A week? I have to stay here a week? My family—”

  “Will be taken care of,” she assures me. “If they do not wish to remain where they are or go to my homes in London or Paris then I can arrange for a suite or two in Orlando. Your brother and his family can meet your grandmother and friends there as well. Disney World, SeaWorld, Universal Studios, those should occupy them whilst we sort this out.”

  “Maybe,” I say, staring down at my empty glass. The brandy barely lasted five minutes after I began my story. It did help with the nerves. I’d forgotten I was holding the glass. I put it on her desk. “Honestly. Would he go after my family?”

  “Possibly,” she says. “Yes. By now he has to have sussed out you are here. He has spies in my network, and it is the most logical course of action for you to have undertaken. Which means he will have deduced you have turned informant and that I will send your testimony to the King, which begins the clock on his possible removal from power.”

  “Possible?”

  “Technically he has not broken the treaty. There have been no invasions, no outright skirmishes. He has not drawn undue attention to us. There has not even been cause to call in the F.R.E.A.K.S. By the letter of the law you were a willing participant. There was no physical duress. He did not lay a hand on you you did not desire him to, even tonight.”

  “But the men who attacked us. He admitted—”

  “You are in law enforcement. It is not what you know, it is what you can prove. Beyond his word you have no proof, and he will just turn around and claim you were a lying woman scorned. You have made up this entire story because you were upset he ended your liaison. He will have many witnesses to testify to his version of events.”

  “And the King would believe him over a F.R.E.A.K.S. agent?”

  “Once again, technically, you are not a F.R.E.A.K.S. agent at present. Suspended for dereliction of duty and emotional instability. Even in the 21st Century how many domestic violence and rape cases have been thrown out or not even brought to court by the DA’s office because the majority of the world believes the victim had it coming or is just a crazy woman?” she says with a sneer. “You believe it is better in our literally antiquated vampire society?”

  My lip begins trembling. “So that’s it? My family has to hide forever, I have to stay here forever, and Connor gets away with it?”

  “Not necessarily. We do have a few marks in our favor. Your affiliation with the F.R.E.A.K.S. for one, tenuous though it may be. I will phone George about your predicament and he can advocate for us to the King. The F.R.E.A.K.S. are meant to remain neutral in vampire disputes unless human life has been taken, but there is a credible threat to one of his agents, our Oliver, so George can at least toss his weight around. Your affiliation with them may also deter Connor from harming your family and friends. They are humans after all, and if he harms them, the F.R.E.A.K.S. can officially step in. He may take that chance though, simply because it is the only way to lure you out and have you agree to anything and everything he desires. With your talent, even his diminished use of it and you forced to fight by his side, he could potentially topple the King and F.R.E.A.K.S. himself.”

  “So the longer he can’t reach me, the more desperate he becomes, and the more danger my family is in.”

  “So we do our damndest to keep them and you out of his reach.”

  “In the off chance the King decides to intervene. Possibly. Maybe. Somewhere in the distant future,” I say harshly as I fight back tears.

  “That is the best I can give you, darling,” Antonia says.

  Fudge it. I don’t have the strength to hold back the tears anymore. They drip down my face and I swipe them away. “And if he does capture my family or Oliver…what will you do? Will you let me go?”

  She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. I knew the answer even before I asked it. I’m a prisoner here now. Still a pawn in this wretched game that began before even my mother was born. And it’s all my fault.

  She smiles again. “You are no doubt exhausted,” she says as she presses a button on her desk. “Robin has prepared you a room, and tomorrow I will have someone purchase you anything you require. Make a list before you fall asleep. Anything and everything you desire will be provided. You are an honored guest after all. My home is yours for the duration.”

  There goes that politician’s smile of hers again. God, she and Connor could be the same person. No wonder they loathe one another. “Please do know,” she continues, “please do accept we are on the same side, darling. Accept it, if not for your sake than for Oliver’s. We have cast our lots together for the duration, and I will do all in my power to keep you and your loved ones safe from harm. I only ask you show me the same courtesy. You rest. You have earned it. I shall take the reins from here.”

  There’s a kno
ck on the door, and Robin steps in. “Yes?” Robin asks.

  “My love, Agent Alexander is ready for bed. Please check on her wounds as well,” Antonia says, picking up her phone.

  “Of course,” Robin says.

  Guess I’m dismissed. Finally. I rise from the chair and the ground sways a little under my feet. Maybe the brandy wasn’t the best idea. I can add it to the Mt. Everest size list of terrible decisions I’ve made lately. Robin strides beside me, taking my arm and waist to steady me. “Come on. Let me help you.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  Robin leads me out of the office into the hallway. “Are you okay?” she asks me. “Are you still bleeding?”

  “No. I-I’m really fine. They weren’t deep. His saliva mostly healed them. I really just want to go to bed.”

  “I think we can manage that,” Robin says with a smile.

  We walk the way I initially came to the small stairwell, going down only one floor to another hallway but stop at a door. We enter a supply closet and after Robin closes the door she moves aside a shelf to reveal a metal door with a keypad. When that door opens there’s another short stairwell and another door and keypad. Strangely we walk through a large, long hallway that has to be the length of the building next door. Smart. Antonia doesn’t live next door but the building after that. They take security seriously around here.

  After another two doors, we finally reach her home. Alejandro sits on a black leather couch channel surfing as Oliver paces around the mostly black and white living room with damask wallpaper the same colors. I especially like the entire wall of a high definition television set up with curtains around it showing a night scene of a balcony overlooking London. There are no windows so it must help with the claustrophobia. I’ll bet there isn’t a single window anywhere. That bothered me at Connor’s too. It truly is a prison. Oliver’s tightly wound body relaxes the moment we see one another. The feeling’s mutual. I want to run straight into his arms, but Robin doesn’t give me the chance. “Toni needs to see you both,” Robin says as we continue walking.