[Kassandra Lyall Preternatural Investigator 03] - Bloody Claws

by Winter Pennington

  Everyone except for Avaliah, who stood, tall and proud, looking down the straight line of her nose at the woman zip-tied behind the interrogation table.

  The knowledge that she had been betrayed hit Miranda like a brick. I saw her flinch, flinch as if she'd been dealt a blow, and then, she went psychotic.

  "You!" She tried to lunge across the table, and smartly, the cops had cuffed her ankles to the chair legs so she couldn't stand, not fully. She fought against her bonds, screaming at Avaliah, raging and threatening.

  While she raged, we watched, we listened. Several times she managed to knock the chair stuck to her back into the wall, but she didn't rise; she simply ranted and fought like a rabid dog.

  "You said it would work! You told me if I killed him, you would take his seed and give me a child! You lied to me! I killed my husband and you betrayed me!"

  I stood and whispered, "There's your confession, Arthur." I had to walk past Zaphara and Avaliah to get to the door. Avaliah's cold expression never altered, but when I made to move past her, she looked down at me.

  I had tasted her thoughts. I knew the hardened arrogance within her more intimately than I ever wanted to know.

  I pushed past her and headed to the car. As far I was concerned, my part in the case was over and the rest was in Arthur's hands.

  Zaphara rode with me on the way back to Lenorre's. Fortunately, Avaliah was not with her.

  "You said the necklace would come in handy," I said to her, watching the road ahead lit by the car's headlights. "It didn't stop Avaliah from wolf-napping me or giving me her memories."

  "I had not known that we were placed in opposition with the Queen of the Leanan," she said.

  "Did you bind her?" I asked.

  "Yes, how long it will hold and how far it will stretch, we will see."

  I chewed on my bottom lip, a bad habit when I'm thinking. "What does it mean for you, Zaphara? She told me about your courts."

  "I've not yet decided." I stopped at an intersection and turned to her. Zaphara stared expressionlessly out the window.

  "I imagine it can't be good," I prompted her, as if prying would really get me anywhere with Zaphara.

  Of course, it didn't, not really.

  "It's not," she said. "If she is lying or telling the truth, it is not good."

  "But we don't have to worry about her killing anyone else, do we?"

  "For now, no," she said.

  "For now," I repeated. "That's comforting."

  "I would suggest you continue to wear the necklace the witch gave you. There may come a time when you need it."

  "Sorry to say, but I've little faith in a necklace where Avaliah's concerned."

  "As is wise," Zaphara said. "Even wiser, I recommend sleeping with it on."

  "Why? You think she'll strike again?" Stupid question, really. I didn't realize how ridiculous it was until I asked. I knew that if it aided Avaliah's cause, she'd do it without second thought.

  "Being bound to me," she said, "she now has a measure of freedom on top of the power she's been hoarding to move more easily between the land of night and this world. Do not underestimate her, Kassandra."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  CHAPTER twenty-eight

  was sitting behind my desk at Lyall Investigations, waiting for Hunter to arrive for our scheduled appointment. It was almost five o'clock. Rosalin was with me, perched in a silly inverted mushroom-shaped chair that she'd insisted on bringing into my office. She flipped through a magazine, the pages hissing as she exhaled a deep breath and flicked the corners.

  "If you tear that magazine, Rosalin, Rit will have a fit," I said.

  When I'd been staking out Kamryn's work, Rosalin had gone with me, keeping me company. A stake out is an atrociously boring and dull thing to do with one's time, which is why I didn't mind the company.

  Earlier this afternoon she'd cornered me in Lenorre's kitchen and asked to come to work with me. I agreed, although I blame a lot of that on the fact that she'd asked me before I'd had any caffeine whatsoever. The other thing I blame it on is that Rosalin, for some reason, has a way of making me feel like an ass for saying no, without even saying, "Kassandra, you're being an ass." She just looks at me and I feel it.

  June buzzed my desk to let me know that Hunter had arrived fifteen minutes early.

  "Go ahead and send her up," I said, releasing the button when I was done speaking.

  I'd left the door to my office wide-open and Hunter appeared a few seconds later, wearing a plum-colored long-sleeved shirt with a pair of faded denim jeans.

  "Hi, Kassandra."

  "Good afternoon, Hunter."

  She stopped in front of my desk, burying her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "So?" she asked.

  I'd spent the last week working on her case, trying to figure out if her girlfriend was cheating or not. As I said, Rosalin had accompanied me when I'd gone to Al's Diner to watch Kamryn Sherman. I'd parked away from the diner, obviously, finding a spot in the shadows that the Tiburon wouldn't be noticeable in. Having a black car comes in handy.

  "She's not cheating," I said, pulling Hunter's file out of my drawer with copies of the photographs I'd taken. Yes, at times in my line of work I feel like nothing more than a glorified stalker, but I'm good at it and there's a certain thrill to watching people unaware, when they're at ease with themselves, with no walls or guards. To be completely honest, if you've ever watched someone who doesn't know they're being watched (and no, it's not creepy, unless you're hiding outside their window at night), it can be disgusting. Hell, just on my way into work I'd stopped at a red light at an intersection and the guy in the car next to us was going to town chewing on his ink pen, after sticking it in his ear. Yep, we've come so far as a species.

  I handed the photographs to Hunter, who took her time going through them.

  I knew for sure that Kamryn Sherman wasn't cheating on her. Each night that she'd worked late, Rosalin and I sat in the car, listening to music, chatting, and watching Kamryn sweep, mop, and wipe down tables.

  The other reason I knew for certain, was that the last time we'd staked the place out, Kamryn had left early for "lunch," and we'd followed her to a jewelry store several blocks away from the diner.

  It was Rosalin's idea to go inside, creative that she is. I may not have gone inside if she hadn't egged me on. We stepped out of the car and Rosalin put her arm around my waist, briefly giving me the rundown of the role she was going to play and the story she'd be telling. She distracted the sales clerk, talking about how we were looking for an engagement ring for our upcoming commitment ceremony and making it sound sweet and convincing. I daresay she should have gone into theater. While Rosalin played her role and gave a marvelous performance, I was busy listening to Kamryn Sherman talking to another employee on the other side of the room. When the woman asked what kind of ring she was looking for, Kamryn explained that she'd been putting in as many hours as she could at work and wasn't too concerned with price. She mentioned Hunter's name when she told the older woman that she planned to propose on Christmas Eve.

  Rosalin was shaking her head at the rings the clerk was trying to show her, seemingly unhappy and disappointed with them. The clerk gave me a weird look, probably wondering why I wasn't paying any attention.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket-which, thank the Gods, I hadn't lost-and made some excuse about having to go pick up my mother.

  It surprised me to find that not only had Rosalin been slinging a believable lie, but she'd also been listening to Kamryn. On the way out to the car, she slipped her arm around me again, nothing but friendly, and remarked about how what Kamryn was doing was so sweet.

  "You going to be okay?" I'd asked her.

  "You keep asking me that."

  "I care about you; that's all."

  "I know." She'd stopped before we'd gotten into the car and gazed at the slate blue sky overhead. "And yeah," she said. "Yeah, I think I'll be okay."

  I showed Hunter what she neede
d to see-proof she wasn't being cheated on and that her girlfriend was being truthful about having to work late. I surmised Hunter had come to me in the first place because she didn't want to feel like one of those insecure, stalker girlfriends and that she wanted someone outside her relationship with Kamryn to give her honesty and facts, not an opinion. Most people probably would've accused or done the "investigation," themselves, but not the were-feline in front of me.

  I did not tell her about Kamryn's plans to propose. That, I felt, Hunter should learn on her own.

  "Thank you," Hunter said, placing the photographs on my desk. "I appreciate it."

  "You're welcome, Hunter."

  Rosalin chose that moment to speak up. "You're a lucky woman," she said with a smile that was a bit too knowing.

  "What do you mean?" Hunter asked.

  "Oh," Rosalin said, "you'll see."

  "Ignore her," I told Hunter, before she could start questioning Rosalin. "It'll be fine."

  Hunter blinked her uncertainty, but didn't seek to question either of us further. I stood and walked her to the door. Hunter invited me to her house for dinner, and fortunately, I didn't have to come up with a lame excuse to decline.

  "I have a date with my girlfriend," I told her the truth. "Maybe some other time."

  It occurred to me how awkward it would be sitting down with her and her girlfriend, after I'd been hired to spy on her. How exactly would she have introduced me to Kamryn?

  "Sure," Hunter said, smiling softly. "Maybe another time."

  When she left, I picked my jacket up off the back of my chair.

  "Ready?" I asked Rosalin.

  She jumped to her feet, closing the magazine and tossing it on my desk. I didn't bother picking it up to put back in Rit's office.

  "Think you'll hear from her again?" Rosalin asked on our way out. "She really seems like she needs a friend and she's trying to be yours."

  "Really?" I asked. "I hadn't noticed."

  Rosalin laughed. "Yeah, really. Why are you so reluctant to make friends with her?"

  "Because she's a client."

  "Was a client," Rosalin said, giving pause. "And at one point, so was I."

  To that, I didn't know what to say, aside from the fact that I obviously don't make friends easily. Besides, deep down I knew that our shared lycanthropy had brought us together as friends. Well, technically Lenorre had brought us together. It had been Lenorre all along. Lenorre who had introduced me to the preternatural community and had advised Rosalin to hire me to find her brother in the first place.

  I drove to Lenorre's with a million thoughts in my head.

  I didn't know what was going to happen with Sheila and the pack, or how far Sheila would press me, but I had a feeling she would and that we'd see each other again. A knot of unease cinched in my chest. I wasn't exactly relishing the prospect.

  Lenorre and I had asked Zaphara to keep watch on Rosalin this evening. We were going to my parents' house for an early Yule dinner. It would be Lenorre's first time meeting my parents, so I didn't invite Rosalin to tag along.

  At the end of the day, I often try to force myself not to entertain thoughts of what could happen. Goddess knows, if I went home and fretted about everything I could fret about, I'd never fucking stop.

  Sheila, Avaliah, Eris… I pushed the thoughts aside as best I could.

  Tonight was about Lenorre meeting my family.

  *

  As it turned out, Lenorre was the one fretting, pacing from her closet to the bathroom, armed with more clothes and hangers than any woman needed.

  "Lenorre," I said as she breezed past me and toward the bathroom, stalking across the room like an impatient panther. "It's just my parents. You don't have to get all dressed up."

  "It is not just your parents," she said, appearing as though I'd insulted her. "It is your parents."

  I shook my head, falling back against the pillows with a sigh.

  "Wear the Grateful Dead T-shirt," I said. "My mother would get a kick out of that."

  Lenorre looked at me as if I'd asked her to smell something foul.

  "A T-shirt?" she asked, brows arching. "To dinner?"

  "You could go sky clad," I said, "but I don't think you want my family making eyes at you."

  At that, she seemed even more appalled, turning and disappearing into the bathroom.

  "You know," I called to her, "you're too old school for your own good sometimes."

  She peeked out at me. "I only desire to leave a good impression and to be worthy of courting their daughter," she said smoothly. "Where is the harm in that?"

  I went to her, toying with a curl of her hair. "A gentlewoman," I murmured, thought about my words, and said with a smirk, "Well, sometimes."

  She laughed softly and I kissed her. "You'll do fine. Just be yourself. They're not judgmental. Do you think they could be with a daughter like me?"

  Lenorre offered a deliberate blink, showing off her long eyelashes. "I am a vampire," she said, as if that explained everything.

  It explained some. "And trust me, love, I've brought home much worse."

  "That's a comfort," she murmured, before pressing her lips against mine again.

  She stepped back, and for the first time, I let myself take in the mess of the bathroom. Clothes and hangers were strewn across the marble countertop like a vampiric whirlwind had hit it. She relented, slipping on a black cardigan V-neck sweater and pulling it down over her hips.

  We headed out to the car. When I got behind the wheel, I took her hand in mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze before she had a full-blown panic attack. Lenorre laughed again, stroking the back of my hand with the tips of her fingers. "I'll be all right."

  "Good," I said, putting the car into gear. "I was afraid for a moment there I'd lost you."

  *

  I'd always been close to my parents. My eldest sibling, Keegan, and I were both closer to them than Makayla had ever been. Makayla was older than me but had estranged herself from the family. As soon as she was of age to bolt out the door, she'd done so, choosing to move in with her boyfriend and his mother. There was enough of an age difference between my siblings and me that I'd grown up almost as an only child. If it weren't for Keegan's brotherly warmth, I would have. Keegan was independent but unlike Makayla, he made an effort to be a part of the family, to be my sibling.

  I spotted his dark SUV and parked the Tiburon behind it. Unsurprisingly, I didn't see Makayla's car. My parents' house wasn't anything in size compared to Lenorre's, but it was quaint, and it was home. The porch light was on as Lenorre and I ascended the steps to the porch. A wooden bench swing was set to one side of the door.

  "You ready?" I asked.

  Lenorre offered the barest of nods, appearing unmoved and pleasantly guarded.

  I touched her arm, shaking my head lightly. "Don't," I said. "No guard, Lenorre. No mask. Just be yourself."

  Lenorre gazed at me for a long time. After a few moments, she let out a breath, visibly relaxing, shedding the vampiric stoicism that shrouded her in mystery and made her appear every inch the Countess vampire.

  "Better?" she asked.

  "Better," I said, ringing the doorbell.

  Out of all the things we'd faced since we got together, it was strange that this one thing set her slightly off balance. Strange and, well, charming.

  It was almost human.

  Bailey, my mother's Irish setter, started barking, announcing our arrival.

  Keegan swung open the door with a wide and mischievous grin. Before I could say anything, he picked me up and hugged me as if he were trying to crush my ribcage.

  "Hey, sis!"

  I laughed when he set me back on my feet. Keegan had inherited my father's height, though he was several inches shorter than Lenorre. His eyes, like our parents', were bright and blue. His blond hair was shaggy and almost surfer-like.

  "Hey, bro," I said, as Bailey, her tail wagging so hard it shimmied the rest of her coppery form, greeted me.

 
I'd been to my folks' since I was infected with lycanthropy, though I still hadn't told them or my brother. Bailey, who used to ignore my existence, had decided I was her new best friend and that when I visited, she would follow me everywhere.

  My mother didn't understand it.

  Whether I told them about the lycanthropy or not, Bailey seemed to know, and she didn't seem to mind.

  We stepped into the foyer and I used my legs to try to body-block Bailey so that we could get in. She whimpered at me.

  When we made it into the living room, I knelt to scratch her head as Keegan introduced himself to Lenorre.

  Fortunately, he didn't try to pick her up and hug her as he'd done to me.

  "So," Keegan said, "you're Kassandra's new girlfriend?"

  Lenorre said simply, "Yes."

  Keegan stared at her as an awkward silence passed between them.

  He looked at me, shaking his head. "You sure do know how to pick them, Kass."

  Lenorre's brows went up.

  "What's that supposed to mean, Keegan?"

  "Did you tell mom who your girlfriend is?" he asked.

  Lenorre looked at me too, and I fought the urge to squirm under both their gazes. "Mom knows what she needs to know."

  "Kassandra," Lenorre said.

  "She knows what you are, Lenorre."

  "Does she know who I am?"

  Keegan laughed. "Judging by that look, I'd say she doesn't."

  My mother chose that moment to hobble into the living room on her bad knee. "Hey, kid."

  Keegan moved and my mother stopped, taking in Lenorre. Lenorre didn't hesitate; she strode forward to offer her hand. "Mrs. Lyall, 'tis a pleasure to meet you."

  My mother stood there, glancing at the hand Lenorre held out. After a few moments, she laughed, shaking her head. "You just don't do anything by halves, do you?" she asked me.

  I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged. "Not really. She's a good catch."

  "Well," my mother said, taking Lenorre's hand and folding her other hand over their clasped palms with a sincere smile, "if that's the case, I'll take your word for it. Welcome to the family."