by M. L. Ryan
I had to admit, in the last few minutes, Ziqua seemed nothing like the nasty, conniving, Alex-stealing bitch I’d pegged her for. Given her taste in male facial hair, her sense of style was now seriously in question, but beyond that, she was teetering back into the “nice” column. Which posed a dilemma. On the one hand, she’d probably find humor in her pseudonym. On the other, I wasn’t completely convinced she had no designs on Alex. Sure, there was no hanky-panky when Sebastian and I arrived, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t averse to the idea. In the end, I decided to go with my gut. Like that never got me into trouble.
“Yeah—Deep Throat.”
Ziqua blinked. “I’m not certain I understand the reference.”
Sebastian spoke before I had the chance. “It has dual meanings: firstly, the title of a pornographic film in which a woman discovers her clitoris is in her throat and exploits this anatomical anomaly by performing oral sex for both her and her partners’ sexual gratification. Secondly, it is the nickname of the secret informant who passed information regarding a human political scandal to reporters in dark, deserted parking structures.”
Her eyebrows rose, but a trace of a smile remained. “I believe I shall assume you meant the latter, as my pwovifo resides right where it should. Although,” she added, her lips evolving into a smirk. “Even without one in my throat, fellatio is a delight I rather enjoy.”
The familiar tingle of rage-induced munitions spread through my hands as I imagined her on her knees, delighting a certain tall, golden-haired crown prince.
“Calm down, my dear. No need to lose one’s temper.” Sebastian’s dispassionate tone of voice belied his new position, which was in front of Ziqua, shielding her from me.
He must have felt my magical lock-and-load. “Does she want to get roasted?” I shouted, leaning my head around him to sneer at Ziqua. “I can shoot fire out of my hands, you know.”
She stayed behind him, but she wasn’t cowering in fear. Actually, Ziqua just looked confused. “I didn’t mean to offend her,” she asserted. “I thought Hailey would appreciate some off-color levity.”
“She was previously wed to a philanderer; I am afraid she believes you have designs on Alexander.”
“I can fry you just as easily,” I warned, piercing Sebastard with a menacing stare.
Sebastian cocked one eyebrow. “You could try,” he challenged, puffing out his broad chest.
Ziqua stood, quickly relocating around Sebastian and directly into my line of fire. “Stand down, both of you,” she ordered. Then she closed the gap between us, placing her hands on my shoulders. She flinched when she felt the energy building inside me, but she didn’t break contact. A ballsy move, all things considered.
“Believe me, I am used to women’s mistrust, and perhaps their wariness is understandable given how my relationship with Fry began. However, I am not, in any way, trying to seduce Alex. I have never been unfaithful to Fry, nor will I, but even if I was so inclined, I would not attempt to lure away another woman’s man.” She removed her hands and shoved them into her pockets. “I don’t expect you to take my word for this, but I did not break up the king’s marriage. It was irretrievably damaged before we ever met. I know that doesn’t excuse what we did, but we are soul mates, and our love couldn’t be denied. Am I proud of how we started? No, but that doesn’t mean a repeat is possible.”
I really wanted to discount every word, but she was so damned convincing. Even if she was lying and would continue her plans to ensnare Alex the next time they were alone, she was now well aware of both my suspicions and ability to sear off all that beautiful red hair. She wouldn’t be nearly as attractive bald.
I took a deep breath. “Sorry. I might have overreacted a little. Getting critically wounded does that to a gal.”
“Yes, I’m sure it does,” she said with a knowing nod. “We’ve all been under a great deal of stress lately.” Pulling her hands from her pocket, she reached out with her right. “Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Ziqua. I am known as a trollop and seducer of royalty, but don’t worry, my poaching days are long gone.”
I clasped her hand, tightening my fingers enough to assert myself without causing pain or making it seem like I was trying to intimidate. Ziqua squeezed back with the same amount of pressure.
“Hailey,” I replied, releasing the handshake. “I’m known as the magically challenged half-breed who snagged a prince.”
“Not so challenged,” Ziqua noted, shaking out her hands. “You pack quite a punch. Between that and being Xterixa, one wonders how powerful your father must have been.”
My magical daddy beamed at the inadvertent compliment, but he kept his mouth shut on the subject of who I got my magic from. Too bad he couldn’t have kept his mouth shut about my problems with Ziqua. If he thought he’d get away with spilling classified neuroses, he was sorely mistaken, emphasis on the sorely. I crossed my arms and offered Sebastian a stony stare. “Yeah, I’m sure he is full of it.”
Sebastian ignored me. “Well, now that the group hierarchy has been firmly established, there are more important things requiring our attention. Any word from your contacts about Boklym? The Xyzok thought they had him pinned down in a bed and breakfast in rural Drryxi, but it turned out to be someone else.”
“Actually,” she began. “My people seem to have lost his trail. He may have slipped into the human dimension.”
Sebastian cursed under his breath. “It appears he is smarter than he seems. It will be more difficult to track him.”
“I thought it was easy to keep tabs on Courso residing in my dimension,” I said.
Ziqua nodded. “It is, but I suspect he didn’t stay long. All he had to do once he arrived was use conventional human means of transportation to another area and then exploit the breaches in the barrier between dimensions to reenter Courso almost anywhere.”
Damn pollution. Before we befouled the environment, the barrier between dimensions was almost completely intact, and there were only a few spots where natural portals existed. With the onset of industrialization, much of whatever kept the two dimensions separate broke down and Courso travelers could, in theory, cross back and forth pretty much wherever they wanted. In practice, almost all used specialized portals in out of the way places; crossing anywhere else was highly illegal. In Boklym’s case, he was already a wanted man. The possibility of more jail time for unlawful entry wasn’t likely to deter him.
“I don’t think his intelligence has anything to do with his ability to elude capture,” Ziqua asserted. “He must have help. Very well-connected and expensive help.”
Sebastian shrugged. “His father is quite rich and influential.”
“Yes, but I fear there is more involved than the family’s wealth and stature.” Ziqua paced across the ancient cell. “There is something we are missing.”
Something nagged at me, too, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what, much to my chagrin. “So, what happens now?”
“We cast a wider net.” Sebastian leaned against a stone wall, once pockmarked with embedded chains, now covered with a thick tapestry. That and the modest smattering of furniture gave the dungeon a nice, homey touch as long as you ignored the iron cage hanging from the ceiling.
“And what, if anything, is new in the hunt for Kyzal’s killer?” Ziqua inquired. “No one has given me an update today.”
Sebastian frowned. “Not much. The evidence is spotty, and what there is does not make much sense.” He pushed away from the wall and stalked toward the sofa.
“You know,” I said, the beginnings of an idea forming as I spoke. “We’ve been looking at Kyzal’s murder and Boklym’s setup as two separate things. What if they’re not?”
Ziqua glanced at Sebastian, and then back at me. “What evidence do you have to make this leap?”
“None, really, but hear me out. Someone went to a lot of trouble to murder Kyzal, and to make it look like an accident. And, if anyone did realize it was murder, the killer added an extra red herr
ing—traces of a human drug in Kyzal’s bloodstream.”
“It is true; few Courso would slip a Mickey to another Courso to debilitate them,” Sebastian agreed.
“A Mickey? What the hell is that?” I asked.
“A Mickey Finn, my dear. It is a human colloquialism from the late nineteenth or early twentieth century indicating a drink laced with an incapacitating agent. It originated with an underworld bar owner from Chicago who allegedly drugged and then robbed his customers.” He waved me on with his usual dismissive flip of his hand. “Sorry to interrupt; please go on.”
Leave it to a centuries-old blow-hard to throw out a reference to an obscure, old-time mobster from the Windy City. I rolled my eyes but continued as though he hadn’t spoken.
“So, the drug makes me a suspect because it’s from my dimension. I’m just lucky I had a good alibi. Then someone tries to discredit me by luring me into a compromising situation. When that doesn’t boot me out of Alex and the queen’s good graces, someone tries to kill me at the library ribbon-cutting ceremony. Fortunately for me, they hired a bad marksman and the shot wasn’t fatal. They almost got their wish, however, when I changed into my scary alter ego, and both the Royal Guards and the Xyzok came close to fulfilling the killer’s original intent.
“And, while Boklym had a flair for magical obfuscation, I doubt he’s savvy enough to outrun both the Jjestrian authorities and the Xyzok, even if his family is loaded. The longer he goes without capture, the more his escape reeks of support from someone who really knows what they are doing.”
Ziqua tilted her head as she considered my ideas. “An interesting theory, but why would someone want Kyzal dead and you out of the way?”
“I haven’t quite worked that out yet; this is a newly developed concept. But, you’ve got to admit, it’s not completely ridiculous.”
“For impromptu conjecture, it does have merit,” Sebastian acknowledged. “But even if you are correct, it brings us no closer to resolution.”
“That’s not true,” I argued. “We can eliminate Rexa as a suspect. She couldn’t have been party to her own son’s murder, and even I don’t think she wants me dead.”
Ziqua snorted. Even when expelling a burst of air through her nose, it still didn’t detract from her overall mantle of sultry elegance. “Sebastian, you weren’t really considering the queen, were you?”
“I was not, but Hailey stubbornly refused to see reason.”
“That’s cold,” Ziqua concluded, appraising me as she spoke. “Arctic, in fact. But impressively single-minded. You have the makings of an excellent operative.”
“Come on,” I snapped. “I only suspected her of trying to get me out of Alex’s life. It wasn’t that much of a stretch that she could have hired someone to drive a wedge between her son and me.”
She smiled. “You misunderstand me. I appreciate the courage involved in clinging to your suspicions concerning your future mother-in-law. It shows strength of character. You must have come up against a great deal of resistance from Alexander.”
And his sister. “It doesn’t matter,” I protested, longing to avoid any conversation about my conflicts with Alex. “The point is, if we are going with the single perpetrator hypothesis, she’s off the hook.” I didn’t add that if it turned out the crimes were not linked, Rexa was still top of my list for the instigator of the one perpetrated by Boklym.
Sebastian tapped his chin. “All right, I shall amend my statement, but your theory brings us no closer to establishing a reasonable suspect. I’m not convinced your supposition is correct, my dear; however, if Alexander finds a match for the unidentified EMS, perhaps it will lend credence to your argument. Until I have some concrete evidence, I shall continue to work under the assumption that these are two unrelated problems.”
“I was just throwing the idea out there; I never said I was locked into it,” I grumbled. Geez, don’t the Xyzok or the Prifindismat believe in brainstorming?
Glancing at his watch, Sebastian announced, “I have an appointment to speak with Karttyx soon. Before I go, do you require anything, Ziqua? If so, I can notify Aiden or Cortez of your needs.”
“I could use some music; sometimes the solitude is deafening. Other than that, your men have provided everything I need. They gave me access to informational exchange systems so I can keep in touch with my sources, the food is plentiful and well-prepared, and the furnishings are comfortable.” A wicked grin curved the edges of her lips. “And Sebastian, that cell phones you gave us, so I can talk privately with Fry? It is beyond divine.”
“One of my better innovations,” he replied. Mirroring Ziqua’s expression, he faced me. “I told you I took care of it.”
“How many of those did you make?”
“Quite a few. I am thinking of giving them as birthday gifts to my closest friends.”
“He’s going to be getting a lot of thank-you notes,” Ziqua concluded.
27
With Sebastian gone, an awkward silence stretched between us. I’d accused Ziqua of terrible things, but she fostered my suspicions by radiating unbridled, voluptuous allure. Although I wasn’t nearly as worried about her intentions toward Alex, I still had some reservations. Imagine my pique when I was forced to see her not as the conniving bitch trying to lure away my fiancé, but as an intelligent and capable conniving bitch with a sense of humor trying to lure away Alex.
I broke first. “So, that TA-enhancing phone makes separations way less awful, huh?” It wasn’t the smoothest way to relieve the tension, but it did the job.
“It may be the single most significant advance in communication in decades,” she agreed. Her expression then clouded. “I am pleased you recovered from your recent injuries, but I must admit I am sorry I missed seeing your secondary form in person. Alexander showed me a memory image; you were magnificent.”
The made-from-one’s-memories, holograph-in-your-hand thing all Courso could do was a cool trick. So much so, cell phones in Coursodon had no camera. Yet another reason to love this dimension—no selfies.
Magic versus technology notwithstanding, Alex sharing his recollection of beastly me was surprising. “He showed you that?”
“Oh, yes. He is quite proud of you.”
Huh. I doubted Alex would share images of me—albeit freaky, dragon me—with a woman he was screwing. As obsessed about Ziqua and Alex my brain was, all evidence suggested my worries on that front were only in my head.
“Look, Hailey,” Ziqua continued. “I truly am sorry if I caused any problems between you and Alexander.”
“Let’s not discuss it anymore, okay? We should be concentrating on figuring out who killed Kyzal and tried to kill me.”
Ziqua nodded. “Right, then. Let’s compare notes.”
For the next hour, we hashed over what we knew, scribbling the salient points on a notepad. When the torn-out sheets covered the coffee table, we surveyed our work.
“I know Boklym has relatives in Drryxi, but if your intelligence is correct and he has had no contact with any of them, why would he go there?” I wondered. “Wouldn’t he figure that would be the first place we’d look?”
“He probably thought as long as he didn’t involve family, he could move around in an area he was familiar with. In my experience, people tend to flee to places they know. Perhaps he was aware of a good spot to transport into the human dimension where his travels would not be noticed on either side. Perhaps he just likes the cuisine,” she added with a shrug. “I will say, after looking at all this together, I’m warming up to your theory that the two crimes may be linked.”
I rested my elbows on my knees and peered at the maze of information before me. “That’s weird, now I’m less convinced. I just can’t see one person hating both Kyzal and me enough to go to all this trouble. Kyzal was an unlikable man in many ways, and his personality quirks might make someone wish he was afflicted with some uncomfortable condition, but murder?”
I pointed to the page with the names of those that had mot
ive to kill Kyzal. The list wasn’t long: a rogue faction of the GZ like the Syzbasti, some disgruntled oligarch with thwarted business dealings, and a nut case with a personal grudge. Sebastian had always leaned toward the GZ’s involvement, and Alex never admitted an inclination toward any suspect or group. “Of these, I’d have to go with the GZ, but don’t tell Sebastian I said that,” I added. “His ego is inflated enough as it is.”
Ziqua inclined her head as she processed my statement. “Didn’t the Syzbasti send someone to keep an eye on you and Alex? I thought he mentioned they wanted to know if you entered the third dimension.”
Without being certain how much Ziqua knew about our trip to said dimension, I didn’t offer any information about Prytx, the Syzbasti who inadvertently traveled with us to Dekankara. If not for his confession, we probably would never know about the small component of the Alenquai governing body that wanted unfettered access to the vast, untapped resources the underdeveloped third dimension had to offer. I answered simply, “Yes, they did have us tailed.”
“Then, there could be a connection between what happened to Kyzal and what happened to you.”
“Yeah, but they weren’t specifically ticked off at me.” Now that we’d listed everyone that might prefer me out of Alex’s life, I realized it was a lot longer than Kyzal’s. Between the known organizations against form-benders, mixed marriages between humans—even purported half-breeds—and Courso, and those that found royal-human couplings particularly abhorrent, the entries on my tally were almost triple that on Kyzal’s. And, that was after I left Rexa off the physical inventory. I still had some lingering personal doubts about her involvement.
“I’ve always viewed the Courso as more enlightened than humans,” I noted. “I’m amazed there are this many groups of small-minded bigots.”
Ziqua nodded. “I know, but in general, we are quite nonjudgmental. There are always a few outliers, however. I suspect a similar compilation of hate groups in your dimension would be considerably longer.”