Conviction

by Jennifer Blackstream

  “I was here. Sleeping.” He shifted, and somehow he managed to give the impression he’d gotten closer without actually moving farther into my space. “Alone. And isn’t that a pity?”

  “So you have no alibi?” I pressed.

  “I don’t need one. I have no reason to kill Siobhan’s toy.”

  He seemed to be speaking the truth, but if he didn’t benefit personally from Deacon’s death he still could have acted on someone else’s behalf.

  “Nor do I have any reason to frame your FBI partner. He isn’t the one who robbed me the night of the auction. If I were going to frame someone, or kill someone, it would be your master. Flint Valencia.” He lowered his voice. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I killed him for you?”

  I didn’t rise to the bait. “Who else was here when Deacon was shot?”

  “I was here, of course,” Morgan said. “As were Simon and Marilyn. And Raphael and his sister, Luna, are Marilyn’s guests. They were both here as well.”

  “I’m surprised Raphael is here at all,” I said slowly. “If I remember correctly, he wasn’t happy with Marilyn on his last visit.”

  Raphael sighed. “I was…frustrated that Marilyn ended the bidding so prematurely. Flint did not deserve you.” He dragged his gaze up and down my body, but the heat in his eyes didn’t feel sexual. He didn’t look at me like Flint did. Or Liam. He looked at me as if I were a Christmas present in glittery wrapping paper and a tight, complicated ribbon that would need a sharp blade to remove.

  “Raphael is here because Luna is here,” Morgan said. “Marilyn asked Luna to come because Simon needed help sleeping.”

  “She’s really been helping Simon?” I asked.

  Movement near the doorway caught my eye. I jerked around to face the woman walking toward me. I would have guessed she was Raphael’s sister. She was his twin, the feminine version of the warrior sidhe, with the same pale grey eyes, and long dark hair with the blonde ends tickling her lower back. She was softer than Raphael, but not by much. She had enough muscle to make it clear she worked to maintain her physique instead of relying on genetics to keep her strong and slim. Like her brother, she either used a liberal amount of kohl for her eyes, or just had enviably thick lashes.

  There was a hypnotic sway to her walk that matched the steady gaze she swept over the room. Then her eyes settled on me.

  “You sound as if you think I’d harm the boy. And we haven’t even been properly introduced yet. I’m Luna.” When she came closer, I could tell that, also like her brother, she smelled of mead and metal and leather. She glanced from me to Liam, then arched one questioning eyebrow.

  “Luna,” Morgan said. “This is Mother Renard and her associate Ms. Scath. And this is Detective Sergeant Liam Osbourne.” She paused, as if she’d only just remembered something. “And he’s also the alpha of the Rocky River pack.”

  Raphael’s head lifted, his eyes locking onto the other man with renewed interest. Liam stood still, his expression set in that unreadable cop face that was so similar to Andy’s. Which was impressive considering I could tell from the amount of heat rolling off him that he was definitely not calm.

  Suddenly I was not at all sure that it was safe to be in the room with these particular guests without the hostess present. “Where’s Marilyn?”

  “She’ll be along in a moment.” Luna advanced, her eyes sharp. “You seem nervous. Do you not trust us?”

  “I’m having a trying day,” I said, trying to keep my voice from betraying how close to the edge I was.

  “I can see that.” Luna closed in like a snake making a lazy serpentine pattern in deep sand. “I can help you. If you’ll let me?”

  Her power reached me before she did. The muscles in my shoulders gave up their tension as if warm oil had been poured over my body, seeping into my skin, soothing and relaxing every muscle as it passed. I hadn’t realized how tense I was, from my eyebrows to the soles of my feet. I took a deeper breath than I’d believed myself capable of. It felt good.

  My thoughts floated on a warm bath. I nearly swayed on my feet, but I didn’t care. My forehead touched something warm, and even my third eye gave up its tension and pain. I took another deep breath and sank further into that warm, fuzzy feeling.

  “Shade?”

  Liam’s voice. There was concern in it. And a warning. I tried to frown, but couldn’t flex the muscles necessary to do so. Goddess, had I ever been this relaxed?

  My familiar’s emotions pulsed against me, tiny panicky beats. But even that couldn’t make it through. It was like being underwater and hearing someone splashing at the surface. Audible, but far away. Irrelevant. I felt amazing.

  And I didn’t want to give it up.

  Peasblossom stabbed me. I felt the needle slide into my skin, a prick that should have hurt a lot more than it did. I smiled. Actually, it didn’t hurt at all. No more than acupuncture.

  “Whatever you’re doing,” Liam growled, “stop it now.”

  His voice vibrated against my skin, making me realize I was leaning on him. My cheek pressed against his chest, my body nestled under his arm. In fact, he was the only thing holding me up. That was nice of him.

  “I’m helping,” Luna said mildly. “She is very stressed. She needs to relax.”

  “You heard him, Luna,” Raphael spoke up. “He wants the witch to wake up. And I can certainly help with that.”

  I was half asleep now. I knew because it felt like the room was bobbing up and down, and I was only vaguely aware of what was being said. Luna’s ability was relaxation. Forced relaxation, so strong I was willing to bet she’d slowed my heart rate. Could probably slow it even more if she chose. I wondered if she could kill me that way.

  “Shall I wake her up?”

  Raphael didn’t wait for an answer.

  His power crashed down on me. The warm bubble of relaxation popped, and reality smashed into my body with all the gentility of a runaway freight train. I gasped, wincing as my entire body spasmed in time with my pounding heart. Blood and bone, I could barely breathe, as if each beat of my heart was a physical blow to my chest.

  It wasn’t until the roar that I realized we had bigger problems than my heart rate.

  I knew that roar.

  Blessed Goddess, Raphael hadn’t just aimed his power at me. He’d hit Liam too.

  Another roar. This one feline. My blood ran cold.

  And Scath.

  No.

  Liam roared again, the sound more animal than man, at the same time that Scath let out another feline scream that curled my nerve endings. I straightened up so fast that the rush of blood made me pitch backward in a loss of balance.

  Liam’s eyes shone like melted pools of gold, his body contorting, already beginning to change.

  Green eyes burned bright as Scath crouched, ready to strike.

  Liam fought it, twisting away from the sidhe, teeth gritted. But Scath’s mouth was open, sharp teeth glistening. She fixed her gaze on Raphael.

  “Don’t bite him!” Peasblossom screamed.

  Majesty meowed.

  And all Hell broke loose in a blinding explosion of light and color.

  Chapter 10

  It takes a special kind of adrenaline rush to energize every cell of your being to where as soon as your body hits the floor, you spring up like a cat that just fell in the bathtub to find it wasn’t empty. I was back on my feet before I realized I’d fallen. Everything hurt, as if the force of the blood pumping through my veins had bruised me from the inside out. I couldn’t hear my own thoughts over my thundering pulse, but that was fine.

  There was no time to think.

  Majesty’s light display had only half-blinded me. I’d been too loopy when he went off, upright but with my eyes still half-closed from when I’d lolled against the thick warm wall of Liam’s chest. I’d only caught the end, so my vision was grey and a little fuzzy, but sufficient.

  “Shade, stop Scath! Don’t let her bite!” Peasblossom wailed.

  I whir
led around. Raphael stood five feet away, his feet braced shoulder width apart, his hands held out to his sides as if he were willing the very ground beneath him to rise at his command. His grey eyes shone like polished hematite. But I could tell by his stare and the way he tilted his head, listening for clues to what was going on, that he hadn’t been so lucky in regards to Majesty’s light show.

  He was fighting blind.

  That didn’t stop him from pumping his adrenaline rush around the room. Liam was mid-shift, his clothes tearing as his body flexed and grew to a shape they weren’t meant to contain, his jeans holding on for dear life. His face protruded outward in a snout that could hold all the teeth of this new form. Unlike Raphael, Liam didn’t need his eyes to fight. His sense of smell was plenty. His head swung toward the leannan sidhe, lips pulled back in a snarl.

  Peasblossom’s warning echoed in my head, and I spied Scath ten feet away from me, gathering her strength, body tightening as she shifted her weight to her back legs, ready to leap at Raphael.

  I dove for her just as her body began its upward movement, wrapping my arms around her neck and my legs around her body. I held on for dear life as if this were, in fact, my first rodeo. Scath snarled and whipped her body in a circle. Tears burned my eyes as my body continued to produce more adrenaline than was good for my heart. It was too much, and if I didn’t do something with it soon, I was going to throw up from the sheer intensity of it.

  I buried my head in the thick fur at her neck, straining to maintain my hold as the feline sidhe went mad with fury. Something heavy fell on me—someone. Their weight was too much, and my hold on Scath’s neck broke as I was pushed to the ground beneath a black dress.

  “Morgan!” I snarled. “Get off of me!”

  “I fell!” Morgan yelped. “What in the mother of crows is going on? Raphael, stop this!”

  “Everyone calm down!” Marilyn hollered. “This is unacceptable!”

  “Marilyn!” Luna cried. “I can’t see! What’s going on, what did that beast do to us?”

  If I’d had the time, I’d have sent a spell at Raphael’s other half just to shut her up. I felt something tiny hit my shoulder.

  Peasblossom.

  The pixie had fallen out of the air and struck my shoulder on her way down. Every nerve in my body seized at once. My imagination supplied image after image of her being trampled in the free for all, and suddenly my world narrowed down to saving my familiar. I bracketed my hands and knees on the floor, forming a shelter with my body as I searched for her, blinking furiously to clear my vision to catch that flash of pink.

  “Peasblossom!”

  Scath roared and leapt away from me, free to escape now that my attention was elsewhere. My peripheral vision told me she was heading for Raphael again, charging at the large sidhe still standing with his arms out, his blind grey eyes unmoving as he listened and waited.

  “Scath, no!” Peasblossom shouted. “Liam, stop her!”

  I followed the sound of her voice and spotted her beside my right knee, her wings so close to my body I was afraid I’d already knelt on the delicate limbs. I eased back then scooped her up, careful not to squeeze her wings. I lifted her to my shoulder.

  Liam’s next roar made me spin around on my knees. My eyes bulged.

  The alpha had gotten between Scath and Raphael. The feline sidhe’s jaws were closed around Liam’s forearm, teeth buried in his flesh, blood running past her lips. Liam roared again, the pain in the sound twisting my nerve endings into knots. Scath released him and reared back, her head low as she backed away.

  I didn’t believe she’d meant to bite Liam. Only Raphael. But it was hard to ignore the way she licked her lips, her green eyes looking brighter than before.

  My heart skipped another beat, my blood flooded with a new rush of adrenaline that had nothing to do with Raphael’s power.

  “You hurt him,” Raphael snarled. “You have violated the sanctity of Marilyn’s home!”

  Raphael drew a dagger from a concealed sheath. I caught the glint of the blade as he turned to face Scath. He blinked, then his gaze locked onto the huge black cat. Scath screamed at him. Blood glistened on the fur of her muzzle.

  Magic crackled in my hands, begging to be released as I stood to face Raphael. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

  The retort died on his lips as a feminine voice behind us swelled into song.

  The melody was soothing and pleasant. Unlike Luna’s power, the heated oil that poured over you and washed away your will to fight, your will to move, this song just took the edges off. My heartbeat slowly returned to normal, my breathing evening a little more with each note instead of all at once. My shoulders dropped and my magic shifted from a painful sizzling electricity to a warm buzz not unlike Liam’s aura when he was calm.

  Liam.

  I tore my attention from the song, not bothering to look for the source of the voice. Liam knelt on the floor, back in human form. His jeans still clung to his lower body, but his shirt was more decoration than anything at this point. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and sweat dripped from his forehead. His face was too pale, his blue eyes too bright.

  “Liam?” I knelt beside him and he didn’t move as I swept his hair back from his face. “Are you all right? Say something.”

  “Heck of a…bite.” He winced and curled in on himself.

  My heart stopped. “Peasblossom!”

  The pixie dropped onto Liam’s shoulder and pressed her hands against him. I did the same, calling a healing spell. Energy flowed from my hands, surging over his body in a race to his injured arm. As soon as our magic touched his wound, I could sense something in the bloody teeth marks sucking it down, drinking it like a marathon runner at the halfway point. His breathing evened out, but the blood continued to drip down his arm, the wounds still open.

  I pulled my hands back, a deep cold settling into my stomach. I turned and looked for Scath.

  When the sidhe’s eyes met mine I saw a flicker of emotion. Shame? Shock? Anger? Before I could decide, before I could be sure, Scath whirled around and bolted out of the room. As I stared after her, I noticed Morgan withdrawn against the wall. Her wide eyes met mine.

  “I told you to be careful,” she whispered.

  “When?” I asked, my voice high and shaky. “What are you talking about?”

  Morgan stared at Liam. “She bit him. It was only a matter of time.”

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded again.

  “I can’t tell you,” Morgan said miserably.

  I stood, stepping toward her with my fists clenched at my sides. “You—”

  “Mother Renard, is everything all right?” asked a voice in a heavy Dacian accent.

  I whirled around, expecting to see Borgia, the opera singer whose impressive soothing powers I’d witnessed at a show a few months ago. Daughter of a siren mother and leannan sidhe father.

  Marilyn gestured at a phone sitting on an end table near one of the chairs. “Borgia’s not here, Mother Renard. I called her.”

  “Your phone is connected to your sound system?” I asked, looking around for the speakers that would have been necessary to project the singer’s voice.

  “It’s part of Simon’s therapy. Borgia helps to calm him when Luna is not here.”

  “Mother Renard,” came Borgia’s voice again, “is everything all right?”

  “No. No, everything is not all right.” I glared at Raphael and Luna, then turned my focus to Marilyn. “We were attacked by Marilyn’s guests.”

  “We were trying to help,” Luna protested.

  Raphael nodded. “Luna was only trying to offer you the peace you so obviously needed. And then the detective seemed to be alarmed by your relaxed state, so I offered to wake you up a little.” He glared in the direction Scath had vanished. “The only one to cause harm was the cat.”

  “You are treading a very fine line,” Marilyn said coldly. “Your behavior has led to violence within my home. Be grateful Borgia was availab
le to stop this insanity. I promise you, you would not have liked my solution.”

  While our hostess bid polite farewell to the half-siren, Liam lurched to his feet. I grabbed his arm to help steady him as he listed to the side. His jeans slid down, baring the muscled ridges of his left hip. I waved a hand over him, using my Cinderella spells to mend his clothes in the way I’d hoped my healing spell would do for his injuries. He tried to reassure me with a smile, but failed. His skin was too warm and clammy under my hands. Feverish.

  “Liam, we need to get you home.” I unzipped my pouch. “Bizbee, I need some bandages. And—”

  A first aid kit popped out of the pouch, hefted up amid a flurry of cursing in Gaelic. I took the kit and fished out antibiotic cream and some bandages.

  Liam started to protest, then stopped. “I’ll help you finish here.” His voice came out a hoarse rasp, and he cleared his throat. “Then I’ll need to rest.”

  “You could rest here, alpha,” Marilyn offered. “Not as a favor. As an apology. You’ve come to harm in my home. I would make things right.”

  “I appreciate the offer. But I’ll heal faster with my pack.”

  “Of course.” Marilyn turned to Raphael and Luna. Her blue eyes glittered, and not with pleasure. “Both of you, get out. We will discuss this later.”

  The twins didn’t move. Like a matching teapot and sugar bowl, they remained side by side. Their grey eyes glowed, and each of them held the same coiled tension. As if they were debating their options.

  “Morgan,” Marilyn said serenely, “take off your gloves.”

  Morgan stiffened, but did as she was told.

  Raphael and Luna both glanced down at her hands. The thick, ugly scars over her palms.

  “Tell the siblings why you scarred your hands. And your lovely face.”

  Morgan looked at the twins. When she spoke, her voice was detached. As if she had to mentally distance herself from the memory in order to say it out loud. “I disobeyed Marilyn.”