by Julie Kenner
“Don’t touch it!” Remy said, still poised to strike Chad at his slightest motion. “It may be evidence.”
“It’s all right, Remy.” Carefully Tristan began to unwrap the top layers of what appeared to be sturdy nylon, perhaps the remains of a windbreaker. Underneath lay a relatively dry and much cleaner layer of cloth. And within the cloth…
A knife. A hunting knife. Dark blood caked the handle and the dull blade like the stain of sin.
Remy swore. Chad had gone positively grim. Only Tristan seemed at peace.
“I didn’t chase him very far,” he said. “After I Changed to human again, I found the knife he dropped when he ran away. But I didn’t remember what had happened—only that Sally was dead. I was afraid to touch the knife. I found Sally’s jacket in the bushes, so I used that and my shirt to wrap the knife and hid it in the stump, under a pile of old leaves.” He looked from Dana to Remy and finally at Chad. “I know who killed her.”
“Quel génie,” Remy said almost reverently. “You preserved the evidence.” He turned on Chad with an evil grin. “It’s over, you bastard. You’re going down.”
“You think it’ll be that easy? I’ll ruin you—and Dana.”
Howling like a banshee, Tristan leaped up and flung himself at Chad. The two men tumbled into the slough. Remy shuddered, torn between the desire to protect Tris and the need to be in on the kill. He scrambled down the muddy bank.
“Remy!” Dana’s voice seemed very distant, but it pulled him like an invisible bond. “Chad might be armed!”
Without breaking stride, Remy plunged into the battle. Chad’s fragile humanity was no match for a loup-garou, even Tris. Already he cringed under Tristan’s flailing blows, soaked to the skin and scratched in a dozen places. But Dana was right. If Chad was carrying, he was desperate enough to use lethal force. A bullet to the heart or brain could kill a werewolf as surely as it would a man.
Remy reached for the nearest body and caught Tris by his collar, ready to toss him to the bank. In that second, Chad recovered. Silver metal flashed in his hand. Tristan was directly in his line of fire. There was nothing left of reason in Chad’s eyes, nothing to stop him from a second murder. Or a third.
“Don’t be a fool, Chad,” Dana said from behind Remy. “If you kill anyone now, you’ll have to kill all of us. You know it won’t work.”
Lacoste staggered, his .38 fixed on Tris. “Are you so sure, Doctor?”
Dana took a step closer to the bank. Remy willed her away, to the safety her stubborn heart refused. “Go, Dana,” he begged. “Go to the police.”
She addressed Lacoste as if she hadn’t heard Remy’s plea. “You wanted Sally, and she rejected you,” Dana said. “It wasn’t right. You could have given her so much, and she chose to turn her back on all of it. On you. No one does that to Chad Lacoste.”
Chad chuckled under his breath, but the sound was strangled and thin. “You think you can condescend, Dana? Do you think you’re better than Sally? Better than me?”
“I think you want me the same way you wanted Sally. Maybe you thought you could start over. Maybe you were just crazy. But sooner or later, when I rejected you, you would have killed me.”
“You stupid bitch. I could have made it right.”
Remy lunged. Lacoste fell on one knee and pointed his gun directly at Dana. Tristan yelled. Swamp mud sucked at Remy’s legs like drying cement.
“I haven’t got much to lose now, have I?” Chad said conversationally. “You really should have listened to me, Sally. Or is it Dana? I suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it?” He began to squeeze the trigger.
“It’s me,” Remy snarled. “I took Dana from you. She always wanted me.”
Chad’s aim never wavered. “Is it any surprise when a bitch goes after a dog?”
Remy gave in to compulsion and Changed. Chad swung his gun wildly. One bullet cracked out before Remy shattered the bones of Chad’s wrist.
Lacoste dropped the gun and fell into the water with a shriek. Remy felt Dana’s warm hand slip through the upper layers of his fur as if he were a familiar and beloved pet.
“What do you think, boys?” she asked. “Should we bury him with Sally?”
Her words were so chilling that even Remy shivered, in spite of his own desire to feel his teeth around Lacoste’s throat.
Tristan leaned against Remy’s other side. “That will make us as bad as he is. Can’t we just hurt him a little?”
Chad had had enough. “I won’t…I won’t tell,” he croaked. “I swear.”
Dana sighed. “You made a mistake, Chad. You didn’t know that we’re all around you, we loups-garou. If anyone heard you talking about what you saw here today—anything about wolves at all—you’ll wish you could spend your life in prison. It’s time for you to tell the truth.”
Chad whimpered. Remy stepped into the water. He had no opportunity to encourage Chad’s confession, for the morning breeze brought the unmistakable scent of man—Detective Landry. Tristan was already on his feet, staring across the bayou.
Clothes or no clothes, Remy knew he couldn’t be discovered in wolf shape. He backed out of the water, snatched Tristan’s pendant in his jaws, and started for cover.
“Hold it,” a deep voice said. “All of you. That means you, Remy Arceneaux.”
Remy dropped the pendant and froze, as much in surprise as in response to the command. Landry had addressed him. As a wolf.
“Thank God,” Chad cried. “Officer, these people—”
“I’d advise you not to say anything else, Lacoste,” Landry said. “We’re going to do this by the book. And I’m not talking fairy tales.” His gaze swept from the skeleton to the knife and at last to Dana. “I admire your gumption, Doctor, but not your sense. As for you—” He studied Remy with a faint frown. “Might as well come on back, Arceneaux. I’m sure you’ll have a few interesting stories to tell me.”
Chapter 14
Chad hadn’t put up much of a fight when Detective Landry took him into custody. He had certainly not hesitated to offer veiled bribes and not-so-veiled threats, reminding Landry that he had friends in the sheriff’s department, not to mention the state government. Any fool could see he’d been framed. What the hell was Landry thinking, letting the Arceneaux brothers go free? He would have Landry booted out of his job, and he wasn’t going to find employment anywhere else in this part of Louisiana….
Dana, standing nearby with Tristan and Remy, watched Landry assist Chad into the back of his car and lean over for a private discussion with the prisoner. Chad was remarkably quiet when Landry closed the door.
“Remy,” Landry said, beckoning.
Remy adjusted the thin blanket over his shoulders and glanced at Dana. In the hectic moments that had followed Chad’s capture, she’d managed to summarize her conversation with the detective at the houseboat. Now Remy knew what Landry knew, but he remained on his guard. He went to join the detective, moving stiffly with lowered head and clenched muscles
The conversation was too soft for Dana to hear. She observed Remy’s expression as it shifted from wariness to amazement and bemusement. After a few minutes Landry dismissed Remy with a nod and went to make another call on his radio.
“Well?” Dana asked.
“We’re related,” Remy said. “Incroyable. Apparently his father was loup-garou, and he’s known about Tris and me all along.” He shrugged. “I never even guessed he was one of us. Landry wouldn’t say much about it, except that he’s kept his true nature a secret until now. Something about a promise to his mother.”
“A werewolf detective,” Dana mused. “Quite a lucky break.”
“More than lucky. Landry was one of the detectives on the case when Sally disappeared. He’d heard all the rumors about Tris but never quite believed them. He knew most loups-garou aren’t killers, and those who are wouldn’t commit a crime and stick around afterward. He suspected Lacoste but couldn’t pin it on him without something solid. He’s pretty sure that the new eviden
ce will clear Tris and implicate Lacoste in Sally’s murder.”
“Thank God.” Dana looked for Tris, who’d kept mostly to himself since Landry’s opportune arrival. He seemed lost in his thoughts, but there was nothing in his behavior to suggest that he was anything less than sane.
“Poor Sally,” he’d said as he’d walked beside Dana to the detective’s vehicle. “All she wanted was her bird. I wish I could have found it for her.”
Dana had squeezed his shoulder. “You still can, Tris, when this is over. I think Sally would have liked that.”
He’d nodded and stepped aside, perhaps pondering the events of the past few hours. Remy had watched him with some concern, but he also seemed to sense in his brother a change for the better.
“We’ll have to go in for questioning,” he said, following Dana’s gaze, “but Landry thinks he can spare Tristan the worst of it.” He lowered his voice. “Said something about misplacing Tristan’s pendant. Loups-garou look after their own.”
And where do ordinary humans fit in? “I’m glad it’s over. Sally will finally have justice, and maybe Tristan can get on with his life.” And both of us with ours.
She tried to think past the lump in her throat. Her ordeal was over, but the next few days were going to be very hard for Tristan. There was still a chance that Chad would stick to his original threat of attempting to implicate Tris. He would certainly hire the finest lawyers the state had to offer. But the odds, and evidence, were stacked against him now, and Dana had a feeling that it wouldn’t take much more to drain him of that psychopathic confidence in his own power. Even if Chad babbled about men who changed into wolves and back again, no one was likely to believe him—or admit to believing him, anyway.
“You were brilliant, you know.”
Dana came out of her thoughts and focused on Remy’s voice. “Was I?”
“Those sinister hints about werewolf revenge, pretending to be one of us. I wouldn’t have thought of that myself—we’re usually trying to avoid the ‘evil monster’ reputation, not encourage it. But you pushed him right over the edge.” He grinned. “You haven’t been holding out on me, chère? Hiding a little loup-garou blood you’re not talking about?”
She shook her head. “When I came here, I didn’t like who I was anymore. I thought I might find a part of myself I was missing, and I did. But it isn’t what you think.” She smiled dryly to conceal the ache in her heart. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Disappoint me? You crazy, woman?” In full view of the car’s occupants, Remy pulled Dana into his arms. “You scared me half to death back there. Lacoste might have shot you—”
“But he didn’t. This was as much my fight as yours. Sally was my cousin. I think I was…brought here to help lay her to rest.”
“You’ve done that, chère,” he murmured, running his hands up and down her mud-stained sleeves. “You’re a hell of a lot braver than I’ll ever be.”
“Ah, yes. That’s why you tried to keep me out of it and urged Chad to shoot you instead.”
“I should never have let him get away with what he did.”
“You were trying to protect Tris, your family. And even if you were wrong then, you made it right.”
“I hope so. Still, getting you involved…”
“Maybe it’s not much comfort, but I’ve had more fun these past few days than I’ve had in the past ten years.”
“Fun?” Remy’s hands tightened on her arms as if he wanted to shake her. “If this is your idea of fun, Dr. St. Cyr, I don’t think I’ll survive your notion of discomfort!”
She clucked with mock severity. “And here you’re the one used to roughing it, while I’m the pampered city girl who arrived in Grand Marais wearing a Prada blouse and pearls. Don’t tell me one little adventure has turned you into a wimp?”
“Only where you’re concerned.”
“Why, Monsieur Arceneaux,” she said, dipping a slight curtsy, “I hardly know how to answer such overwhelming gallantry.”
With a subtle shift of his hands he held her still, compelling her to meet his gaze. “There’s only one way, chère.” He swallowed. “You said you felt you were brought here to set Sally free. Is that the only reason?”
She held her breath. “Should there be another one?”
“Maybe…maybe you were supposed to come here. Not only to save Sally and find your real life, but to…Enfer!” He lifted her onto her toes, kissed her passionately and let her go. “Did I mention that Landry’s half-human?”
For a moment she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “You mean one of his parents was—”
“What does that tell you?”
“Werewolves and humans…they can—” Where was this unaccustomed modesty coming from? She was a doctor, for pity’s sake. How many naked men had she seen in her career? She’d even kissed a few in her private life.
Not one of those men had been Remy Arceneaux.
“Our people wouldn’t have survived this long as a race if we kept completely to ourselves,” he said. “Whatever the elders say, we couldn’t live without humans, no matter how much trouble they cause.”
She felt positively dizzy. “I’m sure there are plenty of women who’d be willing to…contribute to your genetic diversity.”
His voice softened to a near whisper. “You don’t want children? I can understand—”
Oh, God. “I want—” I want your children. “Would they be able to change?”
“It’s a dominant trait.” He nuzzled her neck. “How ’bout it, chère?”
“What are you trying to say, Remy?”
“I’m saying that I can’t live without you, Dana St. Cyr. If you think you can put up with me and my swamp.”
“Are you asking me to stay with you?”
“I’m asking you to marry me and make a life here, in this parish.”
Be sure, Dana. Be completely sure. She clamped down on her irrational joy and faced him squarely. “I thought you wanted a life in the city, excitement, challenge. You can go back to that now that Tristan will be cleared.”
“I could. But you see, I’ve learned how to appreciate the things I couldn’t when I was younger. The swamp is a part of me. And you…you’ve become a part of me, too.”
She searched his eyes. “Is that enough? I’m only human. I can’t do half the things you can.”
“But you can heal, Dana. You have your own gifts. If you can see yourself fixing up simple country folk instead of rich city slickers—” He faltered. “Most people in this parish live from paycheck to paycheck. I’m not sure how much market there’d be for plastic surgery. Maybe you’d rather—”
“I left that life when I came to Louisiana,” she said firmly. “I’m not going back. I think I may even have found the courage to take up the kind of practice I gave up a few years out of medical school. Not for money, but for something else.”
“For love.” Remy took her face between her hands. “You could come to love this place, these people. My people, and the ones like your aunt Gussie. They aren’t bad, you know, only ignorant.”
“And perhaps, with a human at your side, you might dispel some of that ignorance.”
“It’s a start.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Not just any human will do, you know. It has to be the one I love. My wife.”
Dana breathed in the words and held on to them until they filled her chest to bursting. “I suppose it’s a good thing that I love you. It’ll make putting up with your wisecracks a little easier.”
“You love me?” Remy grabbed her waist and lifted her off her feet. “Say that again.”
“I love you.”
Remy’s grin spread and spread until he couldn’t contain it any longer. He bent back his head and howled until the birds rose in squawking masses from the trees and Landry jumped out of the car to investigate the ruckus.
“Keep it down, Arceneaux,” he said gruffly. “You’re scaring the prisoner.”
Remy took Dana by the hands and danc
ed her in a circle, ignoring his blanket as it went sailing off into a mud puddle. “Now, ain’t that just the damnedest shame,” he drawled. “Let’s give him something else to think about, shall we?”
And he kissed her until the cypress trees spun overhead.
Shadow Kissing
Tanith Lee
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
Chapter 1
She saw him that first day, in the old garden. It was a sort of shock. Addie hadn’t warned her.
He stood just behind the riot of ivy and overblown roses, with the sun on his face. Vivien’s heart lurched. Never, in all her life, had she seen a man so handsome. No, perfect.
For some while she stood there, gazing up at him. And then she spoke aloud. “Well, I shall have to paint you. If you’ll allow me to.” But of course he would. He was made of stone.
“You are so unworldly, Viv.”
“Yes.”
Vivien never liked being called by that particular moniker, but Addie nearly always used it. The “unworldliness” Vivien had to accept. Not every artist, every painter, was like that, of course. Some were very practical.
The nonartistic Addie Preece was certainly practical. That Saturday morning when she brought around the keys, she stared dismissively at Vivien’s tiny Camden apartment.