Sin's Dark Caress

by Tracey O'Hara

  McManus stood up and pulled her aside. “The medical examiner is on the way. Why don’t you quickly check over the bodies and do some preliminary readings?”

  She set her case down on the ground. “Do you want me to orb him too?” she asked.

  “I have a feeling we’re not going to get too much more than what he’s already told us, but I’ll let you know after I talk to him some more.” McManus turned back to the boy.

  Bianca pulled the thaumaturgic scanner from the bag, moved to the first body and turned on the device. It went off the charts, then settled back down to a more normal frequency. She ran the reader over the dead boy. There was some trace spell residue, but nothing dramatic enough to send the scanner into overdrive.

  The girl’s body was half hidden in the shadows, but before she got within ten feet, the thaumaturgic scanner went crazy again and the sick feeling returned, even worse than before.

  The scanner had trouble getting a fixed reading on the magic signature. Multiple colored strands twisted together and blurred as the frequency patterns intertwined across the LED readout. She’d only seen something like this once before—the other day when she attended the other murder. Even with group caste magic, the signatures usually remained different from one other, separate and distinct. But this . . . this was weird.

  And she didn’t need a piece of equipment to tell her how black the spell was. The loathsome corruption oozed out of the very air around her, making her head hurt and her stomach churn.

  Bianca dropped to a squat beside the victim’s body. A sense of recognition washed over her as she looked at the dead girl, but the light was too poor to see properly.

  “Anyone have a flashlight?” she called over to the others.

  Jones pulled the police issue flashlight off his duty belt and passed it to McManus, who came up and shone it over her shoulder. Some of the black hair escaped the elaborate hairstyle framing the pale lifeless face, making the bright crimson lips stand out in stark contrast. But it was the trademark violet eyes, even if clouding in death, that truly gave up the girl’s identity.

  “Shit!” she spat.

  “You know her?” McManus asked.

  “What’s the date?” she asked.

  “May fifth.”

  “Shit,” she said again, and turned around. “This is bad. This is real bad.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Bianca moved away from the body. “If tonight is the fifth, then right now there’s a gathering of covens in this hotel celebrating the Age of Enlightenment for the granddaughter of Gayla Hilden—Domina of the East Coast covens.”

  “And the CEO of the Hilden Group—one of the biggest investment management corporations in the country. I know who she is,” McManus said. “What of it?”

  Bianca stood. “Well, I’m pretty sure this is the granddaughter.”

  8

  The Delicate Taste of Grief

  McManus knew that if Bianca was right, this was going to turn into a mega shit storm fast.

  He turned to Jones. “Why don’t you put young Mickey here in the back of the squad car for now and get him some coffee. I’ll be inside talking to the staff.”

  The officer helped the young man to his feet.

  “And Jones, call for more backup. Lots of it. I have a feeling we’re going to need it before the night’s out.” He turned to Bianca. “Coming?”

  “You bet,” she said. “You’re really going to need my help for what comes next.”

  McManus banged on the door and it opened from the inside. The kitchen buzzed—people ran around yelling orders across the room, and delicious odors made his mouth water, reminding him that he’d forgotten to eat again.

  A jumped-up little man in a tuxedo confronted them with hands on hips. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  “Detective McManus.” He held up his badge. “Is there somewhere more private where we can talk?”

  “I’m a little busy right now. You may not have noticed, but there is a very important function going on tonight.” The man’s dismissive arrogance was really starting to piss him off.

  He leaned in close. “If you want me to shut this place down here and now, I can and I will.”

  The man pursed his lips and frowned. “Follow me.”

  McManus leaned over to Bianca and dropped his voice. “Keep an eye on this lot.”

  The tuxedoed man led him to a small office and closed the door on the hubbub outside. “I’m François, the manager. Now what is the meaning of this?”

  “There’s been a double homicide just outside. It looks like one of your staff and a party guest have been murdered.”

  The pompous man deflated. “Oh.”

  “I need you to find out which of your staff is missing, apart from young Mickey, who found the bodies. It’s very important we keep this contained. Several police officers will be arriving soon to start the questioning and I’d like your full cooperation.”

  “Of course, Detective.” The man twisted his hands together nervously. “Though I’m not sure what I’m going to do about the party guests.”

  “You just leave that to me,” McManus said, and slapped him gently on the shoulder. “When you’ve worked out who’s missing, come find me or my partner, Dr. Bianca Sin.”

  François glanced down at his hands. “Is Mickey a suspect? He’s a troubled kid, but not a murderer.”

  “Right now he’s a witness, but we can’t discount any possibility.”

  The manager nodded and squared his shoulders as McManus opened the door. People stood around in the kitchen, some in stunned surprise, others whispering as the rumors started to circulate the room. François clicked his fingers to the nearest girl in a service uniform. “Show the detective to the ballroom.”

  McManus followed the server through the kitchen, down the corridor, and out into an unusual gathering. People milled around, drinks in hand and casting suspicious glances in their direction. Most of them had their animal familiars with them, which made things even more interesting in the noise department. He scanned the crowded room, looking for the person in charge and suppressed a shudder. Of all the parahuman races, it had to be witches.

  Bianca appeared at his side. “I called Oberon. He’s going to send Cody over to help keep the emotions of a room full of witches under control.”

  “Good,” he said. “Now let’s find this Domina of yours.”

  She touched his arm and nodded in the direction of a formidable dark-haired witch with a large eagle perched on her shoulder. “That’s her.”

  “Right,” he said.

  “McManus.” Bianca kept hold of his arm. “Tread carefully with this one, okay?”

  “What are you saying, Sin?”

  “Darling, I thought you weren’t coming.” A red-haired stunner in a tight black velvet dress and an albino python wrapped around her shoulders leaned in to kiss Bianca’s cheek.

  “I’m here for professional reasons, Artemisia,” Bianca said, and turned to him. “Detective McManus, I would like you to meet Alto Artemisia Sin. My mother.”

  The woman extended a delicate hand toward him. “Nice to meet you at last, Detective. My daughter has spoken of you often.”

  “And you, ma’am.” Her palm was warm against his. Very warm. “But she left out how beautiful you were.”

  “Artemisia, please. Definitely don’t call me ma’am.” She smiled at him. “Bianca tends to keep her family at a distance these days, since she took up with that team at the Academy. We hardly get to see her.” The python wrapped around her shoulders hissed at McManus. “Play nice, Matilda,” the witch said, stroking the snake’s head.

  The reptile’s cold pink eyes kept him in a dead stare as its head rose to rest on the woman’s shoulder. She placed her hands on her slim hips, emphasizing her tiny waist. His hands would fit easily around that wa
ist. He could picture it clearly . . .

  Oh God.

  His face warmed and he pulled his coat closed over the front of his suit. He hadn’t had such lack of control since he was a teenager, when even the accidental glimpse of a bra strap would send him hard. But this was Bianca’s mother and disturbing on so many levels.

  “Stop it, Artemisia.” Bianca’s voice had a sharp edge.

  “What?” The witch feigned innocence and winked at him. “Sorry, Detective, but it’s just you have quite the . . . delicious aura.”

  “The Sin’s succubus blood is strong in my mother,” Bianca explained, giving Artemisia the same look she gave him when he’d done something wrong.

  She just smiled and a shrugged. “Sometimes I just can’t help myself.”

  He felt the erotic sensations subside and got the impression she was playing down her abilities and her control. He’d no doubt that what just happened had happened on purpose, and that he’d been tested. Question was, had he passed or failed?

  Artemisia Sin’s smile lit him up inside like a jackpot winning slot machine.

  Bianca’s frown deepened. “We’re here on business, Artemisia. We’ve got some news concerning the Domina’s granddaughter.”

  “Tiffany?” Bianca’s mother glanced over her shoulder at the tall severe woman and then leaned in with conspiratorial delight. “Is she in trouble? It’d really piss that old witch off if her pride and joy was—”

  “Dead,” Bianca said.

  Artemisia’s head snapped up and she pinned her daughter with an intense stare. “No! She can’t be.”

  “I’m afraid it’s true,” McManus confirmed.

  “But I saw her only a few moments ago.” Artemisia craned her neck, searching the crowd. “Over there. Look.”

  McManus followed her finger to the girl moving through the crowded room, dressed in identical fashion to the body outside. He would’ve sworn it was the same girl. Except this one didn’t have her guts spilled all over the floor or the pale mask of death.

  “Look how she’s moving and how carefully she’s not engaging anyone much,” Bianca said. “I think that’s a doppelganger.”

  “A what?” he asked.

  At that moment the girl turned toward them—almost as if she knew they were talking about her—and then her body seemed to shrink inward, folding in on itself until, with a pop like a bursting balloon, she disappeared.

  Those nearest turned to look but found nothing there. They returned to what they were doing with odd nervous titters, but no one seemed to realize a girl had just imploded nearby.

  “What the fuck was that?” he asked.

  “The illusion shattered when we realized it wasn’t real,” Artemisia explained. “A doppelganger spell can only be maintained as long as the illusion isn’t questioned. You’d think it would be easier to get a facimorph—a doppelganger spell that complex requires a lot of power, and close proximity to maintain it.”

  “Not if they’re using the black,” Bianca said.

  “Besides, a facimorph would be just a loose end,” McManus added.

  Her mother’s jaw dropped, her face horrified as she looked from one to the other. “Black magic? Here?”

  A sharp commanding tone interrupted their conversation. “Artemisia, I see your daughter has finally made an appearance in society.”

  Both women turned as one and bowed deeply.

  “Your Eminence,” Bianca said.

  He’d never seen her so . . . deferential. Not even to Oberon DuPrie, and he knew she respected him a lot.

  “She could’ve at least dressed more appropriately,” Gayla Hilden said as the eagle on her shoulder screeched and flapped its massive wings. The witch dipped into a pouch around her waist and held out a tidbit, which the bird snatched gently from her fingers.

  Quite the piece of work, this one.

  “She has always been inadequately respectful,” the Domina continued, narrowing her unusual violet eyes.

  Artemisia straightened her shoulders and placed herself slightly in front of Bianca. “My daughter is entitled to wear whatever she pleases, Gayla.”

  Obviously, no love lost between Bianca’s mom and the Domina.

  “I can handle this myself, thank you, Artemisia,” Bianca said. “I’m sorry, Your Eminence, but we’re not here for the festivities.”

  McManus stepped forward and held up his badge. “Now hang on a second, you can’t talk to her like that.”

  He glanced over at Bianca’s tight-lipped expression, but saw a slight twitch playing at the corner of her mother’s mouth.

  The Domina of New York straightened and wrinkled her nose as if he were something nasty she’d stepped in. “You can’t tell me what to do. Please leave. At once.”

  “Apologies, Mistress Hilden,” Bianca said, pushing him aside and shooting him a death stare. “My colleague seems to have left his manners at home. Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”

  “You have nothing to say that I want to hear,” the Domina said.

  “Gayla, please! Listen to her,” Artemisia pleaded.

  “This is my granddaughter’s enlightenment ceremony, and for passing her entrance exams into the Isis Institute this morning.”

  Bianca mouth’s dropped and her eyes went wide. “Oh my Goddess, now I know what the spell was for.”

  “What?” McManus asked.

  Bianca waved him off with a touch of irritation. She did that when she was on to something. “Have you seen Tiffany recently?”

  “Yes, she’s just over . . .” Gayla Hilden scanned the room with more than a little desperation. “She was there a few minutes ago. I saw her.”

  “But have you actually spoken to her recently?” Bianca asked.

  “I’ve been very busy,” the Domina said, sounding pissed again. “There are some very important people in attendance that have demanded my attention.”

  Bianca glanced at McManus. He nodded.

  “Your Eminence, a young woman was found murdered in the alley behind the hotel. We think it might be your granddaughter.”

  “Tiffany?” The Domina’s hand fluttered close to her throat as she took a staggered step back, desperately searching the room again. “That’s impossible!”

  “It’s been a few years since last I saw her,” Bianca said. “Do you have a recent photograph just to make sure?”

  The Domina regained her composure and snapped her fingers for her manservant. “Bixby, bring me my purse and find Tiffany.” When the servant disappeared, the Domina turned back to them with her mask of arrogance back in place, although somewhat shaky. “I’m sure there’s been some sort of mistake. Tiffany will be here in a moment to clear things up.”

  “I wish that was true, Your Eminence,” Bianca said.

  The uncomfortable silence extended as they waited. Bianca looked at her mother, her expression carefully guarded. Artemisia and Gayla were far from the best of friends, but even her mother would not wish this on anyone.

  Bixby returned and leaned in to whisper in the Domina’s ear. Her face grew panicked and her gaze flicked to Bianca as she slid a photo from her wallet. “This was taken last week.” She sounded less sure than she had a few minutes ago.

  A grinning dark-ponytailed cheerleader waved from the snapshot. So young and full of life, not drained of blood in some dark filthy alley, but it was definitely the same girl. The eyes were a dead giveaway. She passed the picture to McManus, who glanced at it. The tilt of his head said he agreed.

  The Domina’s expression was expectant. “Well?”

  Bianca could not make the words come.

  McManus handed the picture back to the Domina and inclined his head with respect. “I regret to inform you that your granddaughter has been the victim of a murder, and we will need someone to formally identify the body.”

  “No.”
Gayla Hilden shook her head with astonished denial, and then her mouth thinned with determination. “This is some kind of cruel joke. She’s here somewhere. I told you, I saw her.”

  “It was a doppelganger, Gayla,” Artemisia said. “I saw it too. But it expired when we looked too closely.”

  A female uniformed officer came over carrying a tiny, shivering Chihuahua puppy, the tail tucked firmly between its legs, its ears laid flat with terror.

  “No.” All the blood drained from the Domina’s face. “Not Tiffany.”

  McManus waved the officer away. A man approached with a woman who looked like a younger version of the Domina.

  “Mother, what’s going on?” she asked.

  “Marcus, take Astrid up to the room,” the Domina commanded.

  “No,” the younger woman said. “Tell me what’s happened.”

  The Domina’s face fell. “There’s been an accident.”

  Bianca tried to school her features into a neutral expression but failed. It was definitely not an accident that had killed Tiffany Hilden.

  Astrid Hilden’s eyes widened as she saw the puppy the policewoman carried away and her expression crumpled. “That’s Tiffany’s Chi-Chi? Where’s my baby?”

  The Domina took her daughter’s hand. “Go upstairs with Marcus, Astrid. I’ll be along shortly.”

  “No, Mother, I need to know.” Astrid’s voice rose an octave, hysteria creeping in. “Where is my baby?”

  The blood had drained from Marcus’s face. Something passed between him and his mother-in-law as he placed his arms around his wife’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go upstairs.”

  She wrenched herself out of his embrace and stood shaking. “Tell me now.” She screamed. The whole room stopped and looked their way.

  “I’m sorry,” Gayla said. “She’s gone.”

  “No.” It was hardly more than a hushed breath. “No, not my baby. Not my little girl.”