“Yes!” Llyr shifted his grip until he held her more securely and started pounding her without any mercy at all.
Not that she wanted any.
His roar of pleasure was even wilder than hers as they shot together for the flaming peak. They froze like that, straining hard against each other, fighting for more.
And more. And more.
Until at last they slid to the floor in a helpless, sweaty tangle.
Diana knew good and damned well taking Llyr to work with her was going to cause talk, but she didn’t have a hell of a lot of choice. He might be safe from the vampire, it being daylight, but there was no guarantee Ansgar didn’t have another assassin waiting in the wings. She damn well didn’t want to come home to find him dead.
So she told the clerks in the front office he was her cousin from out of town. They seemed to buy it, probably because the long hair made him look nothing like the glamor he’d worn in his FBI guise. While all three clerks eyed him in lusty admiration, Diana handed him a copy of the Verdaville Voice and pointed him to an empty desk. Then she retreated into her own office to call Gist.
The vampire had indeed murdered a thirty-year-old trucker she’d picked up in a bar, according to the dozen witnesses that had seen her do it. The chief had also learned Andy Evans didn’t live with his mother; evidently the call to dispatch alerting them about the killing had been from the vampire.
“Though I don’t know why the hell she did that,” Gist finished. He sounded exhausted and depressed, probably from spending all night with either Andy’s corpse or Andy’s family. If past experience was any guide, neither could have been much fun.
“She was setting a trap for Llyr, Bill,” Diana said grimly. “And she damn near got him that time.”
For a long moment the chief didn’t speak as he digested the ugly implications. “Jesus. You want me to assign a couple of the guys to guard duty?”
“Hell, no. They’d just end up targets or hostages or both. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“You sure about that, kid? There’s going to be trouble about him. And I ain’t just talking about the vampire. Good-looking guy like that, staying in your house. People are going to talk.”
She ground her teeth. “I know, but what the heck do you want me to do about it? I’m stuck, Bill. If I tried to have him stay with somebody else, they’d both end up dead.”
The chief sighed. “Yeah, I know. It’s just not good.”
“Look, I’m going to give my brother another call. Think he’d be a good enough chaperone?”
Gist snorted. “Probably not. People’d think y’ all were having a threesome.”
“With my brother? Eeeewww! God, Bill, that’s sick!”
“Gossips have dirty minds, Di. Oh, and watch out for the coroner. Miller’s got a real bug up his ass about this case. He was stomping around, grilling me and everybody else last night. He’s insisting we call the FBI. I don’t know how much longer I can stall him.”
“Perfect. Just perfect. Any more good news?”
“No, that’s it.”
“Look, let’s just try to keep it up in the air another day or so. I think Llyr’s mojo is coming back—”
“Gee,” Gist interrupted, “I’m sorry to hear it left.”
“Ha. Funny. Point is, when his magic returns, he should be able to make all this crap just go away.”
“That I want to see. Does he do ex-wives, too?”
“No.”
“Figures.”
Llyr sauntered in a half an hour later, bored with the newspaper. Diana handed him a magazine and tried to ignore him by working on the coming year’s budget.
There was a knock on the door. “Diana, you in there?”
“Sure, Mayor,” she said, frowning at a column of figures. “Come on in.”
The door opened. She heard Thompson say in a frosty voice, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Diana looked up and cursed silently. Coroner George Miller was with Thompson, his beady eyes focused on Llyr with obvious speculation. Balding and heavyset, George looked like a redneck cliché right out of The Dukes of Hazzard. Unfortunately, he was much smarter than that.
She stood hastily. “Hi, there, Mayor, George. This is my cousin, Llyr Galatyn. He’s a writer, so I’m letting him follow me around. Llyr, this is Mayor Don Thompson and George Miller, our county coroner.”
Llyr stood and shook hands with the two men with the innate grace that came so easily to him. Miller studied him like a bug under a microscope.
Oh, hell, she realized. He’s noticed some resemblance between Llyr and his guards.
Thompson seemed oblivious. He gave Llyr an easy smile. “Mind if we have a moment in private with your…cousin here?”
“Of course not.” Llyr inclined his head in a royal little half bow and strode out, closing the door behind him.
Diana could feel her stomach knotting, but she forced a pleasant smile anyway as she gestured the two men toward the chairs in front of her desk. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, there’s been some rather serious questions raised, and I wanted to give you the chance to answer them,” Thompson began.
“I’ll be happy to answer any questions I can,” she said easily. Here it comes. How the hell was she going to get out of this one?
“You said in your report that you had a run-in with the killer last night,” Miller said. “Could you tell us about that?”
Oh, she definitely did not like this. “It was all in the report.”
“I know, but we’d like you to tell us about it again,” Thompson said, that good ol’-boy smile easy and broad.
Diana wasn’t fooled. He was trying to catch her in a lie. This was sounding worse and worse every minute. She settled back in her chair and plastered a polite expression on her face. “Well, I was taking my cousin out on a ride along—”
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention a cousin,” Thompson interrupted. “Where’s he from again?”
“New York. I have a big family. Don, do we have a problem?”
“Why don’t you just tell us about your encounter with the killer, Miss London,” Miller said.
She gave them a long, cool look. “Dispatch radioed us about a reported stabbing. A woman claiming to be the mother of the victim said she’d returned home to find her son stabbed. In actuality, the victim’s mother does not live with him. We believe it was the killer who called.”
“Or an accomplice. Go on.”
“I was the first one on the scene. I exited my patrol car and drew my weapon.”
“Where was your cousin?”
She contained a wince. “He followed me.”
Thompson frowned. “Diana, you know that’s not procedure. As a civilian, he should have stayed in the car. You left us open to serious liability by leading him into a potentially dangerous situation.”
“I was hardly going to leave him in the car with a possible serial killer roaming around.”
“Which begs the question about why you let him on a ride-along when we’re in the middle of the current crisis. That was stupid, Diana.”
It was an excellent point, one she had absolutely no defense against. Under normal circumstances, she never would have taken a ride-along into a situation like that. But she could hardly explain why Llyr was an exception. “We were shorthanded, sir. Llyr has military experience.”
“But he’s still a civilian. Go on, Diana.”
“We got out of the car and started toward the house. That was when the woman attacked us.”
“You and your cousin,” the coroner said.
“Yes.”
“He’s a big guy, your cousin. Between the two of you, I’m surprised you weren’t able to capture this woman.”
“She was armed, George.” Sweat was rolling down the small of her back.
“With what?” the coroner asked.
“A knife.” Keep it short and simple, she told herself. Less to remember.
“We
re either of you hurt?”
“Luckily, no.”
“The report said this Llyr Galatyn fired your weapon at the woman, and she ran off. How did he get his hands on your gun?” Miller asked.
“As I said, I drew it when I got out of the car. When the woman attacked me, I dropped it. Llyr fired, and she fled.”
Miller leaned back in his chair. “Well, see, I’m having some trouble with this. Because Dr. Garrison did the autopsy this morning, and he said there’s no way in hell a woman did what was done to the victim. Some of those bones were pulled right out of their sockets. It would have taken a hell of a lot of upper body strength to do that, and a woman just wouldn’t have it.”
Diana’s Burning Moon temper began to steam. “I fought a woman. A woman picked that man up in that bar, and a woman called Dispatch and claimed to be his mother. And a woman ambushed us when we arrived.”
“Could be a he-she,” Thompson suggested. But his gaze was focused on her face. “It’s funny you fought somebody that strong and don’t even have a bruise to show for it, though. I mean, whenever the chief gets into a fracas like that, he’s always got half a dozen cuts and bruises to show for it.”
“I got lucky.”
“Where’s the cut on your head?”
Diana clenched her fists. Feeling her nails growing into claws, she struggled to contain her temper. “What cut on my head?”
“Where Roger Davies hit you with a bottle night before last. Your report said he bashed you a good one. Charged him with it, too.”
“Are you accusing me of lying, Mayor?”
“There’s no cut on your head.”
“Fifty people saw him break that Bud over my skull, Don.”
“He says he didn’t do it.”
“More important, his mama says her precious baby didn’t do it, and his mama goes to church with you!” She clamped her teeth shut.
“Watch your tone, London!”
“I don’t like being called a liar, Mayor!”
“Dammit, Diana, what do you expect? You shack up with some long-haired surfer and cause all kinds of talk. Then you run around claiming to fight serial killers you don’t manage to arrest…”
“I’ve been busting my butt trying to catch that woman, Mayor.”
“And yet all you’ve managed to do is cause a boatload of bad publicity and violate half a dozen city regulations! Even giving you the benefit of the doubt, your judgment has been abysmal in this thing. Now, I’ve got no choice but to call an emergency meeting of the city council for tonight to discuss your continued employment.”
She stared at him numbly. “You going to fire me, Mayor?”
He looked away. “That’s not my decision. That’s up to the council. But you may want to give serious thought to tendering your resignation.”
As Diana stared at him, he rose to his feet and stalked out the door.
Then, softly, the coroner purred, “By the way, Diana, I understand the victims in that hotel explosion the other day checked in using your credit card. Want to explain that?”
She gave him a cold look. “Get out of my office, George.”
SIXTEEN
When Llyr walked back into Diana’s office after the men had left, he found her sitting very still. He stiffened in alarm at her pale face and wide, desolate eyes.
“What’s happened?” he demanded, circling the desk to swing her chair around to face him. “What did they do to you?” Anger steamed through him as she looked up at him helplessly. His Diana was never helpless. “Dragon fry those bastards, I’ll—”
“They’re going to fire me,” she interrupted in a small voice.
Llyr dropped to his knees to frown up into her face. “What?” It made no sense. “But why? You’ve risked your life to stop this killer and it’s not even your job.”
“I seem to have become a political liability.” She turned the chair and stood. As he watched, bewildered, she bent and began to rummage into a set of cabinets against one wall.
“But why?”
“For one thing, you and I are setting a bad example for the youth of Verdaville.” Her voice sounded choked, as if she was fighting tears. Pulling a brown box from the cabinet, she dumped its contents in the trash can and returned to her desk.
“I wish you’d explain.” He frowned as she opened a drawer and started transferring items into the box. “What are you doing?”
Diana glanced up, her eyes red. “Cleaning out my desk. It’s the traditional activity when us mortals get the boot.” She swiped her tears away with an impatient hand. “Technically speaking, of course, the council will make that decision, but since I can’t explain why I did a single thing I’ve done over the past couple of days, I’m screwed.”
“Then explain.”
She laughed, the sound strangled and bitter. “What, that I’m a werewolf and you’re King of the Fairies, and we’re hunting a psychotic vampire who’s been hired to kill you by your brother? Oh, sure, that’ll go over real well. Besides, the mayor’s right about one thing—I am banging you.” Snatching a small ceramic statue off her desk, she tossed it violently into the box.
He frowned ferociously. “That’s irrelevant.”
“Llyr, this is the South, and I’m a public official, and there’s a mayoral race next year. All of which makes our sex life the unspoken nail in my coffin.” She cupped a hand over the back of her neck and rolled her head to try to relieve the knot of tension gathering there. “And as if that’s not enough, the fucking coroner knows I paid for the hotel rooms of FBI agents who weren’t FBI agents. I’ll be lucky if the Feds can’t think of something to charge me with.”
He stood. “No. This is not acceptable. I will not allow this! Everything you’ve done has been to save lives.”
“Unless your magic comes back before tonight, there’s absolutely nothing you can do, and no way we can explain.” She rubbed a thumb between her eyebrows. “Maybe I should tender my resignation, but damn, I hate going down without a fight.”
“Then don’t. There must be some way…”
“I doubt it.” Diana looked around at the room, then grabbed her purse and stepped around him as she headed for the door. “Oh, hell, I’m taking the rest of the day off. I didn’t get enough sleep last night anyway, and I need some rest if I’m going to face that pack of jackals tonight.”
Feeling helpless, he strode after her.
“You should eat something,” Llyr said as they walked into the house.
“I’m not hungry,” Diana told him without looking around as she headed toward the stairs.
Llyr stopped and stared at her, frowning. “You must be hungry. You transformed into your Dire Wolf form twice last night. Your body needs fuel.”
“I just…” She broke step, shoulders slumping. “I don’t feel like cooking, okay? I’ll live.”
He watched as she climbed the stairs, each step heavy with defeat. Silently, he cursed Ansgar. If he’d still had his powers, he would produce a feast for her.
Then again, if he still had his powers, he’d make every human in Verdaville mind his or her own business.
Llyr turned and eyed the refrigerator. His magic might be gone, but he still had hands. He’d cook something. Once she ate, she’d regain that fierce spirit he adored. At the very least, she’d lose the dull, beaten look that made his chest ache.
But what could he feed her?
He went to the refrigerator and opened the top compartment, as he’d seen Diana do the day before. It was filled with slabs of frozen meat, all covered with that transparent substance in which mortals seemed to habitually wrap their food. He chose one at random and examined it.
What had she called it? Ah. “The werewolf breakfast of champions,” he muttered.
The thing to do was get the wrapping off. That, however, proved complicated. The transparent film clung to the meat and itself in stubborn folds that eventually reduced him to tearing the package open. Victorious at last, he pulled out the steak and tossed the fros
ty wrapping on the counter, then tried to decide what to do next. The meat was frozen into an inedible chunk. Automatically, he tried to spell it thawed, only to curse as nothing happened.
He hated being powerless.
Well, Diana had put yesterday’s steak in the oven, so that was obviously what he should do.
Llyr crouched in front of the metal box and examined it dubiously, the frozen steak in one hand. The device had a great many knobs. Really, what were they all for? He leaned closer to read them. They were all inscribed with numbers. Temperatures?
Ah. That one read BROIL. One broiled meat. That would be the setting he wanted.
Llyr pulled the door open to pop the steak inside, then hesitated. It seemed Diana had put the meat on a pan of some kind.
Oh, well. This was good enough. He put the steak on the metal rack, closed the oven door and twisted the knob to BROIL. That should do it.
Satisfied with himself, Llyr rose to his feet. He wasn’t sure how long the cooking process would take, so it was probably best to keep an eye on it.
A moment passed. He opened the oven. The steak lay there, still frozen. Frowning, he twisted his head and contemplated the metal coils of the oven. Nothing seemed to be happening. Perhaps he’d turned the wrong knob. He straightened, located a second control, and turned it to BROIL, too. A red light came on and began to glow.
Well, that was something, anyway. He wasn’t entirely sure how this metal box was supposed to cook a steak, but mortals had been feeding themselves for thousands of years. Presumably they knew how to construct the tools for the job.
Besides, he was king of the Cachamwri Sidhe. He was certainly up to mastering any technology humans cared to create.
Diana lay stretched out on the bed staring sightlessly at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily over her head. She knew she should probably be working on some kind of defense, but she was damned if she could think of one. There was just no way to explain anything she’d done without mentioning magic, vampires, or fairies. Which would be an even bigger career killer than no explanation at all.
Suddenly a shrill beep began to ring through the house.
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