All That Bleeds

by Kimberly Frost

  Snick. Snick. Snick. Tick.

  A minute or less now.

  He tried the numbers in different orders. On the fourth combination, the safe opened, and when it did, it rewarded him with a scent he knew well. Demon.

  Alissa hadn’t been able to delay Dorie from going up to her room, but Cerise had been more polite.

  “I’m surprised that someone didn’t come across your bracelet during the cleanup after the party,” Cerise said. “Maybe it fell into one of the large pots. It was a tight squeeze at the northwest corner after the caterers rearranged things. We should check the greenhouse, too. Some of the flowers were brought out for the party.”

  “Would you mind if I looked now? Do you have time to come with me?” Alissa asked.

  Cerise glanced at the grandfather clock. “Yes, it’s no problem.”

  Before they could go, the front door opened. Dimitri was home.

  “Oh, hello,” Alissa said, crossing the foyer to kiss his cheek. “You’re home early, aren’t you?”

  “No one scheduled late-afternoon meetings. People wanted extra time to get ready for the reception. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be home doing the same?” he asked, his arm still around her shoulders.

  “I lost a bracelet the other night.”

  “It is getting late,” Cerise said, and, without another word, she turned and started up the stairs.

  “Cerise, could I see your gown?” Alissa asked, groping for a reason to distract or detain her.

  “You’ll see it in an hour,” Cerise said without looking over her shoulder.

  Dimitri frowned. “Showing Alissa your dress wouldn’t take more than a minute.”

  Cerise ignored him and turned to the right just as Dorie reappeared at the top of the staircase. Alissa’s heart raced. This was a disaster. How was Merrick going to get out now with the girls milling about upstairs? She held her breath, cringing inwardly, waiting for Cerise to discover him.

  “Daddy, I sent Mom a picture of the dress, and she said I should wear her rubies in the white gold instead of Cerise’s diamond pendant. She says the pendant’s too modern for the dress. What do you think?”

  “Put on the dress. I’ll get your mother’s necklace from the safe. You can try it with both and we’ll see.”

  Dorie nodded and rushed back toward her room.

  “Now what have you lost? A bracelet? Was it one of your mother’s?” he asked Alissa.

  “No, one of mine. A favorite, actually.”

  “I’m sorry. And you think you left it here?”

  “I might have.”

  “Well, the sun’s already going down and we’ve got the reception tonight, so we’ll have a good look first thing in the morning, all right?”

  “Well,” Alissa said hesitantly. Blood raced through her veins. She could ask him to talk in the living room. If neither of the girls had found Merrick, didn’t that mean he was in Dimitri’s room? Or maybe he was hiding in a guest room and would just wait until they all got dressed and left.

  “You’ve got lots of beautiful pieces to choose from for tonight. What’s this about? Because I don’t think you’re only here about a bracelet. Are you nervous?”

  Yes! “Yes, I’m nervous about the next couple of days. I just wanted to see you.”

  He gave her upper arms a reassuring squeeze. “And my daughters didn’t exactly make you welcome. Listen, when the competition’s over and you’re all working together, everything will change.” He kissed her forehead. “You can come upstairs if you want. You can sit in the bedroom while I change in the bathroom, and then Cerise, Dorie, and I will walk you to your house and wait while you dress, and we’ll all drive to the reception together.”

  Dimitri was always so good to her. Tears stung her eyes. She felt wretched for allowing Merrick to search Dimitri’s house. She hugged Dimitri, who squeezed her and patted her back reassuringly, which made her feel even guiltier.

  “No, I’m fine. I’ll see you there in a while.” When she got to the door, she paused and turned back. “Thank you, Dimitri, for always being here for me.”

  He smiled. “I do it for myself. What man wouldn’t want to have three beautiful daughters instead of two?” As Dimitri turned, Alissa glanced up and saw Dorie standing at the railing, glaring down at her.

  Alissa smiled sheepishly and left the house. Her muscles were tight as she walked, a part of her still waiting for sounds of a commotion at Merrick’s discovery. She stopped at the property’s edge with a pounding heart, wondering whether to go home and get ready for the party or to wait for Merrick and risk being seen. If he were caught, she knew he wouldn’t implicate her, but it would appear suspicious if she were found pacing outside the house, waiting for him.

  She heard the courtyard gate open and spun, expecting to see the housekeeper, but instead Merrick walked toward her as Len Mills. She gaped at him.

  “How did you end up in the courtyard?” she demanded when he was close enough to hear her despite her lowered voice.

  “I went out a window and across the roof. I wanted to drop on the grass in a surveillance camera blind spot. The best one’s in the back.”

  “I think I had three heart attacks while I waited for you.”

  He smiled.

  “And I bet it was all for nothing,” she said, starting around the lake path.

  “For nothing?” he asked.

  “I told you that you wouldn’t find anything. You didn’t, did you?” Her voice held more accusation than she meant it to. She had agreed to go along with his plan. It wasn’t fair to treat him like she’d been an unwilling participant just because she’d felt guilty and afraid once it was under way.

  “I was in the middle of breaking into his safe when people started coming upstairs. I didn’t find traces of black magic in the drawers or closets.”

  She nodded. “You wouldn’t have found anything in the safe either. Dimitri’s the last person who would ever hurt me, but if he wanted to, he’d do it the simple way, by shunning me and turning the vote against me. He doesn’t need to resort to black magic and deals with ventala syndicate members.”

  When Merrick didn’t answer, she turned her head to look at him. “Sorry. You know I didn’t mean you.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. A wry smile? she wondered. He was so hard to read.

  She stopped walking. “You do know I didn’t mean you, right? I was referring to the syndicate members who think it’s okay to kidnap women and to prosecute someone for trespassing when they’re trying to rescue a victim.”

  Merrick continued walking, which made her start again to keep pace.

  “They’d done all that work abducting you. Me coming in and scooping you up after the fact had to be frustrating,” he said, mock serious.

  “Right, their anger was clearly justified. Anyone psychotic—I mean reasonable—could see that.”

  “There you go, trying to hurt my feelings again.”

  “Do you have feelings? It’s so hard to tell sometimes.”

  He smiled and so did she. They finished the walk home in silence. At the door, she realized that she was no longer upset about searching Dimitri’s because Merrick had distracted her. It seemed to be part of an emerging pattern. No matter how bad things were, as soon as Merrick was with her, they got better. It was a fact she found both amazing and concerning.

  Chapter 22

  Merrick swept through the house to be sure it was secure and dropped Alissa at her bedroom door.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I thought I detected something off the path on the way back. I’ll have a closer look.”

  “I could’ve gone with you.”

  “You need time to get ready for the party.”

  She nodded.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Her fingertips skimmed the back of his hand, and she whispered, “Nothing, just be careful, James.”

  His heart thumped like she
’d reached in and trailed her fingers over it. He stared at her intently, the impulse to kiss her roaring through him. He cleared his throat. “Easy, North. I like giving you what you want, but if I’m too careful, there goes my reputation.”

  She parted her lips slightly, tantalizing him. His mouth went dry, and he clenched his hands to keep from reaching for her.

  “What gave you the idea that I cared about your reputation?” she teased.

  He couldn’t concentrate well enough to come up with a retort. So this was what it felt like to be tongue-tied. “I’ll be damned,” he murmured.

  “Oh, I hope not,” she said, touching a finger to his lips before she stepped back and closed the door.

  He rested his palms on the frame, fighting the urge to enter the room, to chase her and pull her into bed, to trap her body beneath his. He breathed deep until lust loosened its grip. She needed to attend her reception. He’d have her alone after that. He could wait. He didn’t want to wait, but he could—barely.

  He forced himself away from the door and took the stairs two at a time. He crossed through the kitchen to get to the back of the house and went outside. He didn’t need more time on the path, but he wanted her to jump to the wrong conclusion about where he’d gotten the smooth chunk of stone in his pocket. He walked the path until he was sure he was out of sight.

  He doubted she would stand at her window and watch him, but the best lies and deceptions contained some truth. He pulled the three-inch flat piece of limestone from his pocket, bringing it close to his face. He inhaled deeply. It had definitely touched demon blood or ash, but he didn’t smell spices or lard or animal blood. He inhaled again. There was an incredibly faint trace of something beautiful, but he couldn’t make it out.

  He lowered the stone and studied the front. Etched onto its face was a round Celtic symbol made of intertwining thistles. If there was special significance to the symbol, he didn’t know it. He flipped the stone over. The undersurface had been ground flat, except for a boltlike square nub protruding from the center, which looked like it would fit into another piece, tongue and groove.

  He raised the stone once more, but despite drawing in a deep breath, he couldn’t make out the underlying scent. He needed to get the Ovid Medallion off because it obscured his senses. He pocketed the stone and returned to the house.

  When he got upstairs, a grinding sound drew him down the hall. He opened the library door and found Alissa’s father dragging furniture into a circle.

  The older man climbed on the seat of a chair and looked down at the arrangement. He shook his head and stepped down, grabbing a heavy table covered with books.

  “Hang on,” Merrick said, stepping up and gently shoving Richard aside. “Where?” he asked.

  Richard stared at him for a moment. “Ah, Perseus.” He nodded. “Having more than one face…that’s usually figurative, implying treachery, rather than being meant literally. In your case, however, two faces, not figurative. Curious. Perseus was never depicted as a shapeshifter in the myths.” Richard studied him thoughtfully. “The difference between fact and fiction, I suppose. Here,” Richard said, pointing.

  Merrick moved the table and then righted the books that had fallen over.

  “Perseus,” Richard said, motioning Merrick over to an enormous bookshelf. “Would you mind?”

  Merrick raised his brows. “Up against the wall is a good place for that one.”

  “Too heavy to move like this?” Richard asked and began removing the leather-bound volumes and setting them in stacks.

  “Wait,” Merrick said. He walked over and tested the bookshelf. There was some give. It wasn’t bolted to the wall or floor. “Get on the other end to help keep it steady.”

  Richard ran a hand through his silver hair, walked to the end, and nodded. “Ready.”

  Merrick grabbed the frame and pulled. The floor groaned as he dragged the heavy case over it. “Wait,” Merrick said, squatting to examine the floor. He ran his fingers over the scratches. They were deep enough that it would take more than polish to remove the marks.

  “No,” Merrick said, standing. “She’s not going to be happy if I tear up the floor.” Merrick pushed the shelf back into place, feeling a sharp pull in his shoulder. He grimaced. The muscle wasn’t completely healed from the stab wound. He paused, letting the ache fade.

  “I need that wall,” Richard said, peering at the bookshelf, clearly disappointed. “Books don’t write themselves,” he murmured. “But the hard is what makes it great. Maybe if I wedge—”

  “Where do you need a wall?” he asked.

  Richard stretched his hand out to indicate an area near the room’s center.

  “Does it have to be solid? Are you going to ram anything into it?”

  “No.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll make you a wall.”

  “You’re a prince among men,” Richard said solemnly.

  Yeah, that’s what all the madmen say. “Just so you know, Richard. If Alissa doesn’t like the room’s new look, you did it all yourself.”

  “Yes, all the credit. None of the blame. Got it,” Richard said with remarkable lucidity in his pale blue eyes.

  “Exactly,” Merrick said, flashing a smile. “I suspect we’re going to get along fine.”

  Richard turned his head and stared at an empty corner. “Hmm, blood. Like Lady Macbeth?” He paused, apparently hearing a voice to match the invisible presence. “Ah, no. Well, beggars, choosers, you know.” Richard looked back at Merrick. “You may be right about us getting along. Unless you’re a villain.” Richard looked him over. “If you are a villain…well, I know where you sleep.”

  Merrick laughed softly. “There you go, Richard. Keep your options open.”

  Alissa dusted another layer of shimmery gold powder over her cheekbones as the bedroom door opened. She didn’t want Merrick to see her until she was ready. She stood and walked to the door of the dressing room that connected to her bathroom.

  She opened the door a crack and spoke through the opening, “Hey.”

  “Yeah?” He walked over, but didn’t attempt to open the door. She loved how intuitive he was. He understood that if she’d wanted to be seen, she would’ve opened the door all the way.

  “I need a little more time to finish getting ready. After you’re dressed for the party, can you wait for me downstairs? There’s a tuxedo for you in your room.”

  “Just happened to have a spare lying around, huh?”

  “I’m a muse. I have stylists on standby around the clock.”

  “All part of the muse magic. Able to generate formal wear with a single phone call?”

  “Exactly,” she said with a laugh. “I’m the envy of superheroes everywhere. See you downstairs in a few minutes.” She closed the door with a gentle click. A group of agitated butterflies flitted around her belly. Insane, she thought and shook her head. It was only two nights before she might be crowned Wreath Muse, and the thing she felt most nervous about was how well her evening with Merrick would go.

  She sat in front of the mirror, finishing her makeup. She ran rose pink lipstick over her lips and turned her face to each side, examining her work. Her upswept hair lay smooth against her head, held in place with unseen pins. Around her throat, she fastened an antique gold and diamond necklace that twinkled in the light.

  She uncovered her vintage strapless gold gown. Shimmering scalloped lace rested on a lining of flesh-colored satin. She stepped inside the fabric, raised it, and drew the zipper up, sheathing herself in luxury.

  She glanced at the crook of her arm where she’d placed two tiny round bandages over the bite marks. They were almost invisible against her skin, but she slid on pale gold satin gloves that reached her biceps. She slipped on shoes that matched the gloves.

  She opened the door a sliver. “Are you there?” she called softly. As she’d expected, Merrick was efficient in all things. He’d already dressed and gone down.

  She emerged and found a Post-it note he
’d left on the inside of her bedroom door.

  For when you say good night: Richard—library.

  She smiled. Merrick’s memory of the small details of her life flattered her. She’d mentioned in a letter that she had her little evening rituals, like always saying good night to her dad. What she hadn’t said was that she often tucked him in now, their adult and child roles reversed.

  Knowing where her dad was saved her time. She wouldn’t have looked for him there at first, and she was already late. Alissa swept down the hall, around the corner, and into the library, finding it transformed.

  She paused at the bronze silk sheets hanging from subtle ceiling hooks and took in the large potted plants arranged like clusters of trees. Flour coated the floor, creating the illusion of a light dusting of snow.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  He turned and smiled. “Well, well, well. You’re beautiful tonight, Moonbeam. A gilded goddess.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Careful of your dress. It’s snowy,” he said, indicating the flour.

  “I thought the landscapers were gone for the day.”

  He looked at her blankly.

  “How did you hang these sheets?”

  “Well—do you mind? Why should you? It’s my library. We share it, of course, with all these authors. I wanted props. I’m working, you know.”

  “I don’t mind, but you didn’t climb—” She looked around. There was no bookshelf close enough for him to have climbed.

  “Oh, no. I don’t have keys to the shed with the tools. The infernal Mrs. Carlisle’s rules. I don’t have access to my own ladders or drills or the most useful pieces of equipment, but fortuitously she left me with the most dangerous thing of all. My pen,” he said with an impish smile. “I may write her a note bitter enough to pickle her ears.”

  “No tools, then how did you…?” She glanced at the door. Merrick.

  “Well, I’ll tell you. That Perseus may have blood on his hands, but he’s Svengali with a hammer.”