The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song)
Page 19
either direction will bear that shame in
the eyes of my people. It is our
tradition. But if she truly helps us to
stop this madness, I will allow her to
commit
Akkana—ritual
suicide.
Nothing can save her, but it will at
least spare her family the taint of her
shame.
Ritual suicide? That was the good
option?
I am sorry, Celia, truly.
I couldn’t tell if she was or not. I was
just hoping something would change to
make any action unnecessary. So am I.
The queen spoke her next words
aloud, giving me at least the illusion of
mental privacy. “Go. Think about what
we’ve discussed.” She reached over,
patting my hand. I’m not really the
patting type, and neither is she. It seemed
an odd gesture. Then again, she was in
an odd mood—angry, regal, but also
extremely tired and very worried. “Pack
everything you will need for several
days. My jets are busy today ferrying
most of my sister queens home, but I will
have Hiwahiwa arrange a flight for you
tomorrow. I would that it were sooner,
but we will simply have to trust the
Secret Service a bit longer.”
“I could fly commercial.”
She smiled more broadly, her eyes
lighting up a bit. “That won’t be
necessary, but thank you for offering.
Frankly, security would have a fit, and
rightly so. No, tomorrow will be fine.”
I surprised myself by saying, “I wish
you were coming, too.”
“As do I. I hate this more than you
know. Chiyoko has kindly offered to stay
and to advise Adriana.” The bitterness
in the queen’s words was palpable.
“Oh, hell.”
“Indeed. I had hoped that using the
video conference idea you had given me,
showing her that I am recovering, would
dissuade her from this unseemly grab for
power…” She let the sentence trail off
unfinished.
There was nothing I could say. From
what I’d seen nothing, ever, would
dissuade Chiyoko from anything. I had
never spent more than a few minutes
with her, but they’d been memorable.
Besides, power-hungry people are never
satisfied. It’s an addiction. Any addict
always wants more.
I looked at my aunt. She was wearing
out. Sirens might be tough, but they
weren’t invincible, and the terrorists had
very nearly succeeded in killing her,
thanks to the information Okalani had
provided.
Perhaps the queen was right. Or not. I
just didn’t know. I did know there was
nothing more for me to do here. “I’ll let
you get some rest. Try not to worry any
more than you have to.”
She gave a snort of amusement, then
nodded, a silent gesture giving me
permission to leave.
Taking my cue I rose, bowed, and
walked away.
Baker led me down one of the back
stairwells after notifying Griffiths that
we were leaving and telling him where
to meet us. I’d turned off my cell phone
to meet with the queen and switched it
back on as we went down the stairs.
There were five missed calls, all from
Laka.
I knew I should call her back. Maybe
Okalani had come back. More likely, she
hadn’t and her mother just wanted
updates. Whatever, I didn’t want to deal
with it. Not now, with my conversation
with the queen so fresh in my mind.
Later. I’d crush Laka’s hopes for her
daughter later.
The car pulled to the curb, Griffiths at
the wheel. Baker led. She was cautious,
spraying Griffiths with holy water from
both a general purpose container bottle
and from one that looked to be part of
her own private stash, to make sure it
was truly him and not a shape-shifted
spawn, before letting me get into the
backseat.
“Where to?” Griffiths half turned,
looking at me over the top of the front
seat as Baker climbed in on the
passenger side.
“Home,” I answered. “Take me
home.”
* * *
“Princ … Ms. Graves, we’re here.”
I blinked in surprise, waking. Griffiths
seemed to be a quick learner, or perhaps
Baker had clued him in on the “no
princess” policy. I reached into my bag
and pulled out the remote that granted me
entry to my home. It’s not just one where
you push a button, like a garage-door
opener. I have to enter a code and press
my fingerprint to a pad. Magical
biometrics. Good stuff.
Cooper Manor is a large estate with
elaborate security, for which I’m
grateful every day. There’s a long,
winding drive through manicured lawns
that leads to the mansion. A small branch
off of that drive leads to my parking lot.
“How long was I asleep?” I was
shocked. It wasn’t even ten in the
morning and I’d dozed off?
“You’ve had a rough couple of days,”
Baker said. “And there are more of them
on the way. Rest when you can.”
She was right, of course. My life had
been rough, and for longer than a few
days. But the fact that I’d fallen asleep
was a good sign—I’d chosen well. With
Helen Baker as my “partner,” I felt
secure. And Griffiths must have proven
himself to my subconscious, too. Trust is
a wonderful thing. As Griffiths pulled
the car into the little parking lot near the
guest cottage, I made up my mind. I
needed more than rest. I needed peace.
Until I got things straight in my head and
my emotions under control, I was going
to be useless. “I’m going to the beach.”
They didn’t say a word. Of course,
they were sirens, so they’d know all
about the call of the ocean. I pulled my
house key from my pocket and tossed it
to Baker. “My bedroom is the yellow
one. Feel free to take either the blue or
the white.”
I climbed from the car, grabbed a
beach umbrella from the storage box on
the back deck, and went looking for
peace. My private bit of beach is a little
strip of sand and rocks that edge onto the
ocean. It’s too rough and rocky for good
boating or surfing, but it’s beautiful. I
found a sandy spot next to my favorite
rock, pitched my umbrella, and sat
staring at the ocean and watching the
gulls play.
Within ten minutes I reached an
unpleasant conclusion. Two hours later,
I hadn’t changed my mind.
I couldn’t help Okala
ni, no matter
how much I wanted to.
I’d given my information to the police
via Alex and to Rizzoli via voice mail.
Alex was good at her job. If she found
the kid, Okalani would be arrested and
probably turned over to the feds. If the
feds found her, or got her from the
police, she might be able to make a deal
—information in exchange for witness
protection. I’d seen it happen before.
But if the sirens found her, she’d be
killed. Honorably or dishonorably, she’d
be just as dead.
The best thing I could do for Okalani
was stay the hell away from her and pray
that the good guys who didn’t want her
dead found her before the ones who did;
and that either set found her before the
villains.
It sucked.
Staring at the ocean didn’t make it
suck any less. I was hurt, sad, and angry.
I wished … Not that it mattered what I
wished. As my mom used to say, “If
wishes were horses, we’d be up to our
eyeballs in shit.” In fact, I might be
anyway.
19
My flight would leave at 2:00 P.M. from
a private airstrip not far from town. It
was probably an hour’s drive from the
office. Since it was private, I’d be able
to pack whatever weaponry I cared to
bring. I could strip the safe bare if I
wanted. I was going to take spell disks,
my guns, various ammunition, my knives,
and some One Shot brand squirt guns
filled with holy water. I probably
wouldn’t need the special loads on
Serenity; there are no monsters on the
islands. Well, there aren’t supposed to
be. But we’d be going straight from
Serenity to Rusland, and I might need
them there, so I needed to pack them
now if I wanted them later.
I would also have time to meet with
the client who’d been on the books since
the day I got back in town.
I could hear Ron and Dawna arguing
the moment I climbed from the car. So
help me God, if I hadn’t had to go to the
bathroom so bad I would’ve climbed
back in and have Griffiths drive us
somewhere else. But the morning rush
hour had offered up bumper-to-bumper
traffic and I’d drunk two large mugs of
coffee. So I steeled myself and entered
the lion’s den.
“I’ve had it!” Ron is not a small man.
He towered over Dawna, even in her
heels. But she stood toe-to-toe with him,
not giving an inch. Years of putting up
with his crap had finally come to a head.
I could tell that from across the room.
Ron was an idiot if he didn’t recognize
it. “That woman is a menace.”
That woman? That would be me. It
always is.
“All right, what’s up?” I asked. Baker
had entered ahead of me and Griffiths
was behind. They both kept one hand
close to their sidearms, ready to act as
backup, but they didn’t need to. On my
worst day I could handle Ron without
breaking a sweat. He’s a big bully, but
there’s no substance to it.
He whirled around at the sound of my
voice. “You!” He pointed a meaty finger
at my face.
“Yep,
me.
Now,
what’s
the
problem?” There was an edge in my
voice you could shave with. Like
Dawna, I had pretty much reached the
end of my ability to put up with Ron’s
abuse.
“I’m moving out! I can’t take any more
of this. Terrorists! There are actual
terrorists after you, with bombs. You
being here endangers all of us.” He
started to move forward, to try to use
that big body to intimidate me, but Baker
suddenly appeared just in front of him.
She wasn’t aggressive; she barely even
seemed to move. But she stopped him
cold.
“Okay,” I said in a perfectly pleasant
tone of voice. Because, truthfully,
imagining Ron out of my hair really was
just so incredibly pleasant.
He stood there, blinking a little as if
we’d startled him. “Okay?”
I sighed. “Ron, actual terrorists have
made viable threats. Any sane and
rational person would get as far away
from that as possible. I’m a little startled
to find out you’re rational, but hey, good
on you.” I heard a soft snort of what
might have been suppressed laughter.
Griffiths, I think. I didn’t look. If I did, Ron would notice and we’d have more
of a fuss on our hands than we already
did. “You want out of your lease, I’ll let
you out. Hell, if you can get moved out
by the end of the week and leave the
place clean, I’ll not only give you back
your deposit, I’ll refund this month’s rent
as a gesture of good will.”
It took him a few seconds to take that
in. He’d won. But he was Ron, and he
was an attorney, he had to push for just
that little bit more. “My moving
expenses—”
“No.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but I
cut him off. “No.”
I turned aside and moved around both
him and Baker, to the reception desk
where Dawna had resumed her usual
seat. I was not going to argue. If he took
the offer, fine. If he didn’t, he was a
fool. Either way, I was finished with it,
and him. “When’s my client due?”
Behind me, Griffiths gave a polite
cough.
Apparently, I’d been too involved to
notice a new arrival. Just great. Peachy.
I pasted a smile on my face and turned to
greet the newcomer. Points to me, I was
even able to hold on to the smile when I
saw who it was.
Angelina Bonetti.
Oh, hell. This was so not my day.
“Ms. Bonetti.”
“You know my name.” She wasn’t
happy about it. Her eyes had narrowed,
her voice polite but chilly. She’d
expected to surprise me, have the
advantage.
“Bruno showed me your picture.” Oh,
she didn’t like that, not a bit. It showed.
Apparently he was supposed to keep her
from me, like some deep dark secret.
The woman he’d always hold a torch
for, someone to be ashamed of still
having feelings for. And maybe he
would have kept her a secret—if I hadn’t
found the picture. Or not. Because he’d
had the whole day to plan our date. To
clean up. Why keep an incriminating
photo around if he was embarrassed?
I forced myself to keep smiling. “I
understand you were his high-school
sweetheart. If you’ll ha
ve a seat, I’ll be
with you in just a minute.” I gestured
toward the lobby. I didn’t stay to see if
or where she went. Whatever was going
to happen next could wait. I was going to
the bathroom. Now.
As I was washing up, I took stock of
myself in the mirror. I was wearing a
nice black suit with a white blouse. My
hair was pulled back and my face was
made up in my usual business-
appropriate way. My bone structure has
always been a little harsh, but that
became more apparent after the bite—
and even more so since I’d dropped
weight in Mexico. I’ve learned to keep
the fangs hidden most of the time. My
skin doesn’t glow green unless I’m
vamping, which isn’t often anymore. I
could hold my head up at any business
meeting in the city. Unfortunately, I
couldn’t hold a candle to Angelina
Bonetti.
I’ve known some gorgeous people.
Vicki Cooper, my best friend since
college, was the daughter of a pair of A-
list movie stars, and was so beautiful
that when she went out in shorts and a
tank top she could actually stop traffic.
Seriously, I honest-to-God saw a guy
almost wreck his car because he was
staring at her.
Angelina left Vicki in the shade.
She’d grown into the face I’d seen in the
photo. She was still petite, tiny even, but
with dangerous curves that were
emphasized by the crossover cut of the
sapphire-blue dress she was wearing.
The jewels she wore at her throat, wrist,
and ears were sapphires as well, with
just enough diamonds to add a little
sparkle. Her long, dark hair had been
swept back and to one side in a casually
messy braid, a style that emphasized a
heart-shaped face dominated by huge,
doelike eyes and full, red lips.
She was overdressed for a simple
business meeting and I doubted it was
accidental. How I reacted would
determine if she got the upper hand.
“She’s trying too hard. That means
she’s nervous.” My reflection smiled at
me. It wasn’t a happy smile. But I
stiffened my spine, dried my hands, put a
quick, glossy shine on my already pink
lips, and went back to the lobby by way
of the kitchen, where I fetched coffee for
myself and my guest.
Baker was coming down the stairs as
I entered the room. She gave me a brisk
nod to let me know the office was clear.
I acknowledged the gesture and turned to
my client. “Ms. Bonetti, if you’d like to
come upstairs? I hope you like coffee.” I