A Barrel of Vintner - Chapter 7

Taxes are done and filed as of last night! Woo-hoo! I love getting those off my plate. My spring is free to write and publish. Which also means, I can focus on finishing A Barrel of Vintner before the end of February!

Yep, I'm on the downhill slide of the story, and big changes are coming to the Justice universe! I'm having fun, and I hope the readers will love this novel.

To whet your appetites, here's the next chapter!

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The wardens, Luc, and I disembarked from the Mars Tranquilus, and we squeezed into the carriage once again. Our driver clicked his tongue, and we rolled back into the city and toward the Temple District. My hands shook, and I hid them in the sleeves of my robes despite the warmth of the day.

“I’d feel better if we stayed in one of the inns by the docks,” Jonata murmured under her breath.

From the expressions on Long Feather and Yar’s faces, they agreed with her.

“Things will be much worse for all of us if we offend our Temple leaders,” Luc said.

“I can’t speak for Light, but all of us from Balance in Orrin have had the same suspicions as the queen for some time,” Long Feather said.

“Really?” The skin of my face stretched as my right eyebrow climbed my forehead.

“We know how intelligent you are, m’lady,” Yar said. “It does not mean the warden corps are not intelligent as well.”

“When did I or the Chief Justice ever say you weren’t?” Luc asked.

“Neither of you have, High Brother,” Jonata said. “But frankly, we fear you both have more enemies in Standora than Emperor Po did in Chengzhou.”

“That would be a lot of enemies.” I chuckled, hoping to ease the tension within the carriage.

However, no one else made a sound at my poor attempt at jocularity. Instead, the tension inside the carriage grew as we passed Death and Vintner. My own dread threatened to drown me as we passed Love and Conflict.

The royal carriage stopped far too soon in front of the steps of Balance. I gritted my teeth and exited after Long Feather. The footman handed our bags to us. I turned around to see Luc and Yar had followed Jonata out of the carriage.

“High Brother, you do not have to disembark,” the driver protested. “I will take you and your warden across the street.”

Luc laughed. “I assure you, my good man, I have no issues crossing the street. It’s the easiest thing I’ve had to do over the last six months.”

“But I was ordered—”

“Don’t fret,” I said. “By the time you convince the high brother, he will cross the street, climb the steps, and be wrapped in blankets and asleep. Thank you very much for delivering us safely to the Temples.” I bowed.

Our driver tugged the brim of his woven straw hat. “As you say, Chief Justice. I’m at your party’s disposal while you’re in Standora. Send a Temple page up to the palace and have them ask for Luigi.”

“Thank you, again, Luigi.”

Yar handed each man a gold piece from what was left of my horde. They both touched the brims of their hats before the driver clicked his tongue and called out, “Forward.” The horses set off toward the palace at the same languid pace they use used for our entire trip from the palace. The footman waved at us from his perch on the back of the carriage.

I swallowed the bile burning the back of my throat and turned to Luc. “Shall we meet you on the steps of Light a half-candlemark before First Afternoon?”

I knew I attempted to stall the inevitable, but Luc had the same nervous expression I was sure I wore. He laughed uneasily.

“The capital Temples may be larger, but even I can reach Thief in a few heartbeats.”

“I know.” I looked up at Yar. “You stay in his room regardless of propriety.”

The giant warden chuckled. “Your wardens and I have already had that very discussion, m’lady.”

“Try to get some sleep tonight,” Luc added. “I have a feeling Reverend Father Grey Shadow will run us ragged before the week is out.”

“It’s only Second Day,” I spluttered.

“Exactly,” he replied before he and Yar turned and crossed the street. The warden’s huge bulk shielded my love from being run over while Luc avoided the manure that hadn’t been cleaned up from the cobblestones yet.

I could feel Jonata and Long Feather’s tension on top of my own as we pivoted and climbed the steps of Balance.

Two wardens I didn’t know guarded the main doors. There had been a time when those doors would be open on such a warm day as this. Not anymore. Not with the demons on the move in our world again.

I pushed back my hood so there was no mistaking my identity. “Chief Justice Anthea of Orrin. I require lodging for me and pallets for my wardens while we stay in the capital.”

Both of the women guarding the door bowed. “Welcome home, Chief Justice,” the one on my right murmured before she pushed the door behind her open and shouted, “Squire!”

A small child raced out of the Temple. He breathlessly stopped in front of me and bowed. “I shall take your bags, Lady Justice.”

It took all of my willpower not to laugh at his earnest expression. He couldn’t have been more than seven winters. My largest pack was nearly the same size as the squire.

“Thank you for your service,” I said. “I merely need know where to place my belongings before I extend my respects to the Reverend Mother.”

He bowed again. “This way, Lady Justice.”

“Good afternoon, wardens,” I said before we followed the squire through the main doors. It had been seven years since the last I’d been here, but I didn’t recall the miasma of grief permeating the Temple’s walls. Perhaps it was a symptom of what was happening within the capital.

Court wasn’t in session. “Please wait a moment, Squire…”

He took the hint. “Antonio, Lady Justice.”

I smiled at the child. “Please wait a moment, Squire Antonio.”

I strode across the slate floor, stopped before the basalt statue of Balance, and bowed. I didn’t offer thanks for our successful voyage to Jing. She wouldn’t care or answer. Instead, I whispered, “I wish I understood your plan. Knowledge would be helpful in serving your purpose.”

As usual, she refused to answer.

I returned to our group, and the squire led us up the right staircase to the third floor. Once again, I swallowed my humor. The last time I was in the capital, I was assigned a small room with the novices on the second floor, one of the Reverend Mother’s subtle digs. I wondered why I suddenly rated a dignitary suite.

Voices came from within the suite before the squire opened the door. Inside, the air was overly warm and stuffy. Maybe it was due to the animated discussion between two staff members and Blade, the home Temple’s head of household. All three women froze in mid-conversation.

I didn’t know the two other women. From their demeanor, they appeared to be younger than Empress Shi Hua. However, Blade had been the head of household since I was first brought to Standora. She had to be over sixty winters now, but she still stood as straight as the great redwoods.

Blade recovered first and bowed. “Welcome home, Chief Justice.” The two young women followed her gesture though raw fear shone in their tight expressions.

I’d gotten used to being an object of curiosity during our voyage, not someone to be feared. Of course, that didn’t account for the one cousin of Emperor Po’s who was on the verge of calling me out for a duel.

I bowed in return. “It’s good to hear your voice again, Blade. I’m only sorry it is during such sorrowful circumstances.”

“Queen Teodora’s death was not entirely unexpected, Chief Justice,” she replied.

“I was referring to the malaise currently accosting Standora,” I said. “When a cutpurse is so afflicted as to rob a person in broad daylight in front of the prince consort and two senior members of the Temples, matters have definitely gone awry.”

Her eyes widened. “The young man brough to our gaol this morning?”

I nodded.

She sighed. “You are invited to dine with the Reverend Mother and her staff this evening. I’m sure she will want to hear your insights as a fresh observer and a witness.” She eyed Jonata and Long Feather. “I’ll see to it that your wardens are settled in the barracks—”

“I want beds brought into the suite for them, or at least two comfortable pallets,” I stated. “They will be staying with me in the suite.”

Blade sighed again. “Are you trying to insult the Reverend Mother on purpose, Little Death Wish?”

“This has nothing to do with the Reverend Mother,” I said. “It has everything to do with me being at the top of the Assassins Guild’s list of targets. If my request cannot be accommodated, I would be happy to find lodging elsewhere.”

Blade’s mouth pressed into a firm line. She was caught between the mountain and the sea, and she knew it.

“Very well, I’ll have pallets brought up for your wardens. Dinner is at exactly First Evening, Chief Justice.” Her expression looked as if she’d eaten an unsweetened lemon.

“Where?” I asked.

She blinked. I had a suspicion she wasn’t expecting me to inquire as to the location and intended to not tell me. “The Reverend Mother’s private dining room.”

“Thank you for delivering the invitation and for accommodating my requests.”

She inclined her head before she and the two quivering staff members departed.

Long Feather opened the windows to air out the suite. Maybe none of us were used to being indoors anymore after all our time at sea over the last few months.

“This is going to be an enjoyable meal,” Jonata muttered dryly to me.

I didn’t want to attend this dinner either, but like Blade, I was also caught between the mountain and the sea. And I was absolutely sure my wardens and I were in far more danger here than we were with any other opponents over the last six months.

A Cup of Conflict - Chapter 7

Things are slowly taking shape in this book. However, I had to put it on the backburner while I worked on getting Magick and Murder out to my Kickstarter backers, double-checked my documentation for taxes, and voted yesterday. Then the lake-effect snow flurries keep drawing my attention, even though it's officially spring.

Anyway, here's your next taste of A Cup of Conflict!

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A huge square, easily a quarter league wide and long, stood between the Temples and grounds of the imperial palace itself. Bricks covered the entire ground space. Wooden poles stood around the edges of the square while some were embedded in the middle, marking off a smaller square.

Workers were already decorating the square for the Spring rituals. They ran ribbons from pole to pole. Tables and benches were transported by oxen and wagons from a nearby warehouse to the square.

“Is the middle section for dancing?” I quietly asked Yin Li.

She smiled and nodded. “Knowledge will provide paper lanterns, which will be hung the night before the first day.” She chuckled. “Unless the weather oracles predict rain. Then the Temple of Light will provide the lanterns.”

I laughed in return. “That’s one thing we rarely have to worry about in Issura. The winter rains are often long gone before the Rituals.”

A waist-high wall separated the square from the imperial palace. No doubt, the vicinity of the Temples to the throne were part of what triggered the resentment of the schools of philosophy. I needed to research more Jing history. I had a strong feeling the schools existed before Balance’s Revelation. If so, that would add to the masters’ animosity.

We entered the palace grounds, and imperial guards lined the avenue. Like the majority of civilians, the guards exhibited an enormous sense of relief at the new emperor’s return to Chengzhou.

The avenue itself was constructed of Toscana concrete. A great expense, but the material would last longer than cobblestone given the amount of traffic the palace normally might see. And the lane would definitely be crowded between the Spring Rituals and the upcoming coronation.

Huge troughs of soil held flowering plants, most of which were starting to bud under the balmy weather over the past four days. Statues were randomly placed on the lawn. Each art piece was surrounded by bed of plants or sand. In the sand beds, designs were drawn. I couldn’t be sure if they were similar to the Diné sand paintings because all sand looked the same to me. It was something I would have to ask Luc about later.

At the end of the quarter-league avenue, people I assumed were the Dragon Palace staff lined up in neat rows at the ends of the wide steps up to the palace itself. Imperial guards kept a significant path in the middle of stair clear. The only people who weren’t surrounded by the armed men and women were the handful of nobles and the many squires at the foot of the palace steps.

When we reached the end of the avenue, Po gave the signal to stop and dismount. I glanced behind us, half-expecting the heads of the Temples to have joined the procession, but no one was behind us except the escort loaned to us by Duke Lixin.

Once the riders stood on the pavement, the lead noble approached Po and bowed deeply. “Welcome home, Your Majesty.”

“Rise, cousin.” Po chuckled. “We’ll have more than enough ceremony to stand on over the coming weeks and years.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” The noble straightened, a neutral expression on his face.

Po gestured Shi Hua to his side. “May I present my wife Bao Shi Hua? My love, this is my cousin, Duke Bao Mengchang, the Imperial Grand Chancellor.”

I didn’t miss the slight twitch of the duke’s lips when Po grasped Shi Hua’s hand in his and led her to each noble present and introduced them to her. Mengchang may simply have conservative views. Or he could simply be biding his time. All of his cousins with claims to the throne would be present for the coronation.

Maybe Mengchang still thought Shi Hua was the concubine who’d accompanied Po to Issura nine years ago.

Gah! Now I was seeing plots where none might be. The events over the last two years had ruined whatever normality that had existed in my life. I glanced at Luc and amended my thoughts. We’d lost whatever stability we had the day Katarina came to me at the inn.

Maybe there wasn’t a plot, but Mengchang’s disapproval increased when he noticed Captain Mateqai wasn’t from Jing. And he was outright frowning deeply when Po instructed him to house Luc, me, and our wardens in the imperial family wing.

“The staff are still cleaning the family rooms in the emperor’s wing,” Mengchang said stiffly.

Po eyed his chancellor. “What are you proposing, my cousin? That we place the esteemed ambassadors from Issura in concubines’ quarters?”

“They’re Temple,” Mengchang said. “I was not expecting clergy to reside in the palace, Your Majesty.”

Well, I had to admit, if only to myself, Po had told us the truth about how his own people regarded him. If anything, he had undersold the problems he faced.

“The Issurans lost their southern border city of Tandor at this time last year,” Po said coldly. “If it weren’t for Chief Justice Anthea and High Brother Luc, Teodora of Issura would have lost her entire queendom. You will treat them with the esteem Teodora holds them and the honor they have earned.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Mengchang bowed again. “I beg your forgiveness. No slight was intended. I shall double the housekeeping staff to make sure the rooms are ready for tonight.”

“Also, Duke Lixin should be here in two days,” Po added.

“We shall prepare for his arrival, Your Majesty.” Another deep bow.

“Once my lady wife and I have refreshed ourselves from our long journey, please dine with us and our guests this evening.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Mengchang’s annoyance lifted. Had he feared he would be dismissed due to Chengwu’s assassination? Or worse, executed for failing to protect the previous emperor?

“Your Majesty, if I may be excused briefly,” I said. “The high brother has had a proper audience with your Reverend Father of Light, but I must extend my own courtesies to your Reverend Mother of Balance.”

Po inclined his head. “Of course, Chief Justice. Dinner shall commence a candlemark after First Evening.”

I bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” This time, I had to bite my tongue to keep from making any flippant remarks concerning the imperial couple staying out of trouble while I was gone. As much as I worried about their safety and Luc’s, etiquette needed to be observed.

And it gave me a chance to escape Sister Darys’s watchful eyes.

Death Goddess Walking - Chapter 7

Here's the unedited seventh chapter of my current work-in-progress!

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The pharaoh must know his enemies better than he knows himself in order to protect the people of Kemet. – The Lost Books of Neit, Djehuti’s library at Akasha


Billie turned to find Nettie glaring at her, a look that bordered on homicidal rage. Despite the professor’s fury, icy calm descended over Billie. “I’m going back upstairs to grab my files and laptop. Wait right here.” Silence was her only answer.

In fact, Nettie still hadn’t spoken minutes later when Billie pulled into the alley and parked in the detached garage behind the house. At least, the professor hadn’t argued about heading home. Billie switched off the ignition, and the two women sat in the dark quiet.

“You have no idea—”

Billie slapped her gloved hand on the steering wheel, interrupting Nettie’s attempted tirade. “How could you be this stupid!” She sucked in a deep breath, tension filling the air she drew. Blowing it out, she tried again. “I know these things seem real to you, but they’re not.”

“Like the dead people you talk to?”

Nettie’s words pierced Billie’s soul. Thank goodness, the professor couldn’t see her wince in the gloom. “That’s different.”

“How?” came the sharp retort.

“It just is.” Fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Please, promise me you’ll take your meds, Nettie.”

The shuffle of winter clothing and the slamming of the car door were her answer. Sighing, Billie collected her laptop case and accordion folder and followed Nettie into the house.

High-pitched barks greeted her in the kitchen before a flurry of black fur butted her legs.

“Porter!” She dropped her armload onto the table and knelt to hug the dog. Licks covered her face. She fell over, laughing at his enthusiastic greeting.

She looked up at the human silence. Nettie and the twins stared at her. The professor’s lips remained pursed in anger though a flare of something else lit her eyes. Surprise covered Kyra and Reyna’s faces before Kyra’s normal smirk returned.

Kyra’s eyebrow rose before she said, “Porter?”

Heat flamed Billie’s face. “It was the first name I could come up with. Where’d you find him?” He leaned into her hand as she scratched his ears. “I’ve been looking all over for you, boy.”

Reyna crossed her arms. “I heard something at the front door a few minutes ago. When I opened it, he trotted in like he owned the place. Went up to your room and jumped on your bed.”

“Then he growled at her when she tried to push him off.” Kyra shot an amused look at her sister. “He came down right before we heard your car pull up.”

Reyna tilted her head. “What is he?”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “Duh. A dog.” She examined him as Billie hit a particularly sensitive spot behind his ear based on his groan of pleasure. “A damn ugly one at that.”

His unusually big ears shot straight up. A low rumble started deep in his chest.

Billie patted his back. “Ignore her. She insults everyone.” His head swiveled in her direction, tongue hanging out in a canine grin.

She stood and reached for her purse to get her phone. “Let me get a picture of you.”

Black fur leapt past her outstretched hand. He grabbed the handle in his mouth and took off for the hallway with the purse.

Anger burned away her initial shock. “Come back here!” She raced after him, wanting to retrieve her phone before he turned the leather tote into a chew toy.

Behind her, sarcasm spiced Nettie’s words. “I don’t think he wants his picture taken.”

##

Monday morning, Billie strode into the Franklin County probate court room. Sunday had been entire waste of time. After some sneaky maneuvering, she’d managed to snap a photo of the dog, but someone kept taking down the flyers she’d taped to fences and utility poles around their neighborhood and the campus. If the damn canine had opposable thumbs, she’d suspect he was the culprit. In fact, Nettie drew enormous amusement from and even encouraged some of his antics. Like letting him into the bathroom when Billie was in the shower.

Thank goodness, she finished most of the prep work for her case on the morning’s docket on Saturday. She was checking in with the clerk when a familiar, slimy voice said, “Good morning, Ms. Edmunds.”

Billie braced herself before raising her head from the sign-in sheet. Jim Gorman stood beside her, not a wrinkle in his expensive suit. “Mr. Gorman.” Stepping out of the way, she turned to find a seat in the crowded room.

“I’d like to schedule your deposition this week.”

Plastering a fake smile in place, she pivoted to face him. “Have your secretary call mine.”

His return smile hinted he wouldn’t make this easy on her. Why he and Cyrus Johnson, Jr., felt the need to ruin her as well as the now-widowed Mrs. Johnson made no sense. “I was hoping we could talk after court. Maybe clear up some issues before your word becomes a matter of record.”

If it weren’t for the chignon she wore, Billie was sure every single hair on her scalp would be standing straight up. “I have nothing to say off the record, Mr. Gorman.”

She turned to find Brittany Johnson and her attorney near the courtroom’s main door with someone Billie had only seen in newspapers before. Les Wyatt, Cyrus Johnson’s business partner.

All three stared at her. Crap. Wyatt’s gaze held simple curiosity, but from the look of shock on Brittany’s face to her attorney’s suspicious expression, they’d both come to a very wrong conclusion. Damn, the stupid depo would now be a total nightmare. No doubt, Gorman, being the skanky bastard he was, would make sure Cyrus Junior’s brother and sister knew he’d spoken with Billie, though he put his own little nasty spin on the conversation.

And leaning against the back wall, but well away from his stepmom, was Cyrus Johnson Junior. A NASA laser had less intensity than the hate-filled gaze he shot at her. Pity still filled her for the man. It had been obvious he’d carried a torch for Brittany, long before dear old dad married her. Now, Cyrus Junior wanted to punish the poor girl for choosing his father over him.

Billie clenched her hand on the handle of her case and shuffled through the crowd to find an available seat. Thank goodness, none of her current clients were here to see the Freudian drama.

After a few more minutes, the bailiff announced the judge, who called the court to order. Typical minutiae filled the first half hour. Then Judge Jackson announced the Johnson estate.

Despite her interest in the evidentiary hearing, Billie couldn’t make out the conversation at the bench. Her weird sixth sense kicked into gear. Something was about to happen. Something very, very wrong. The judge’s questions buzzed into white noise as she scanned the people around him.

Her weird feeling didn’t come Brittany or her attorney. Cyrus Junior was tense, but nothing screamed danger from him. No, it was Junior’s attorney. Gorman, normally Mr. Cool-and-Collected, fingered his right suit jacket pocket. The wrongness of his movements rippled across her nerves. They were too alien, too reptilian. His actions reminded her of something she couldn’t quite place. She only caught a glimpse of the item he pulled from his pocket, the bulk of it hidden in his sleeve. From the bailiff’s angle on the other side of the group, he hadn’t seen a damn thing, and the court reporter was too busy typing to notice.

Gorman shifted on his heels the instant Brittany Johnson’s attorney leaned forward to make his point with the judge. Something seemed to take over Billie’s body, a voice inside her head screaming to move. Now.

She threw herself over the railing and into the court’s well, but not before Gorman reached for Brittany. Sharpened stone appeared in his hand. He yanked the pregnant widow to his chest.

Too late, too late, too late, the voice in the back of her head screamed. She was too fucking far away. Time dropped into first gear. What she wouldn’t give for a reverse. The bailiff’s eyes locked on Billie, not the endangered woman. His mouth opened and his hand dropped to his baton.

One step.

Billie shook off the woman in the gallery who grabbed at her and tried to pull her back over the railing.

Two steps.

Cyrus Junior jumped in front of Gorman and Brittany to intercept Billie. She drove her elbow to Junior’s gut and a palm strike to his chin. He started to collapse.

Three steps.

No choice. She plowed into Gorman and Brittany, both hands reaching for the stone knife as he brought it up, no doubt to slice the poor girl’s throat. She seized his wrist, twisting to land on top of Gorman. Then her eyes met his.

Red flared in the irises. A predator stared at her, analyzing the threat she could be. Lids narrowed and lips spread into more of death rictus than a smile. Whatever looked out of those orbs wasn’t human.

Not that she ever thought Gorman was human to begin with.

The thing inside the other attorney used the momentum to swing his arm around, rolling with his landing. Shit. She’d impale herself on the damn stone knife.

Wrenching her body, she crashed hard on the tile floor. The lizard grin widened as he realized he had the advantage. When Gorman came down on top of her, the impact of his body drove out any oxygen left in her lungs. Ignoring her body’s screams for air, she focused all her strength on keeping the jagged stone from ventilating her chest.

Gorman’s mouth opened, but the sounds issuing from it weren’t any more human than the eyes were. It didn’t mean she didn’t recognize them though. The monsters in the cemetery made the same hisses and clicks during the confrontation with them Friday night.

There was a muffled thunk, then the pressure she’d been fighting disappeared. Thick fingers flexed and released before the stone knife clattered on the tiles. Gorman’s alien eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed with a puff of tainted breath.

Above them, the bailiff kicked away the weapon, but he still held his baton ready. Sobbing came from somewhere nearby. Eyes wide and mouth gaping as he clutched his stomach, Cyrus Junior stared at her, or maybe he stared at the unconscious form of his own attorney.

Judge Jackson appeared next to the bailiff and stared down at her. “What the devil are you doing wrestling with another attorney in my court, Ms. Edmunds?”

Queer Eye for the Super Guy (888-555-HERO #11) - Chapter 7

Here's your last taste of Queer Eye for the Super Guy! See y'all on the other side!

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Jeremy relaxed against the back of the bench in his booth at La Churro’s and sipped his mango margarita. Today’s lunch with Elaine went far better than he expected. She already knew all his business procedures. Leonardo would spend the next two weeks walking through beginning and ending of the day routines with her.

Plus, she had no problem with a probationary period, though she negotiated Jeremy from his desired ninety days to sixty. If everything worked okay with Elaine, Leonardo would start cutting back on his time in the salon, and he’d share Jeremy’s chair for those clients they didn’t want to or couldn’t give up for various reasons. Leonardo could then focus on his design work.

Harri plopped down on the bench across from Jeremy, with her briefcase she used for court. Not a good sign. Without a word, she poured herself a margarita from the pitcher and downed half of it in two gulps before she scowled at him.

“Are you trying to punish me for ignoring your business interests over the past two years?” she said.

“Contract reviews aren’t anything new,” he protested.

“It is when Molly does a better job of pitching addendums than me.” Harri grabbed the pitcher and refilled her glass.

“You sound pissed,” Jeremy commented. “Is she insisting on only girl M&Ms in her dressing room for the show?”

“No, the kid should be going to law school, not screwing around with clothing design.” Harri took another gulp of margarita. “Please tell me you ordered queso and extra chips.”

The last time Harri plowed through alcohol and junk food like this was after she had fallen in love with Tim Canyon but didn’t want to admit it. She was worried about something more than Nix getting into some kind of trouble the TV people.

“Is you representing both me and the kid going to be an issue between us?” Jeremy grinned. “I can always go to Brick Montgomery at Bryson Gaither.”

At the mention of the attorney at a rival firm, Harri’s hand tightened on her glass. For a split second, it looked like she’d waste good tequila by tossing her drink in his face. Instead, she changed her mind and sipped her drink. At least, she’d stopped gulping it. Jeremy didn’t think he could handle a drunk Harri tonight. Neither Dopinder or any of his cousins would forgive her if she puked in one of their taxis.

“If it comes down to that, you’ll all need to alternate counsel.”

“I was joking about the kid.” Jeremy reached for the pitcher and topped off his own glass. “Does she really have a problem with me?”

“I don’t know if Bernhardt is doing this on purpose, but three of the judges and one of the designer contestants are Winters and Franklin clients.”

Jeremy whistled under his breath. Damn, that really put his sisters and Susan in an awkward position. But he knew for Harri, it wasn’t about the money. It was about doing the right thing for her clients.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked.

“We’re going to have a meeting with all the clients involved Friday night.” She stopped at the sight of La Churro’s owner Mateo delivering their queso and chips. “Ese, why are you waiting tables again?”

“I’m only waiting on your table, Winters,” the big man said dryly. “And it’s only to keep you from poaching any more of my staff.”

“Whoa.” Harri held up her hands. “Janna’s still working here during the evenings.”

“But she’s not available for the lunch shift thanks to you.”

Jeremy wasn’t sure if Mateo was really angry or just giving Harri a hard time. But when she glared at Jeremy, he shrugged. “I told him you were joining me when he asked where Leonardo was.”

Mateo pulled out an order pad from his apron pocket. “What can I get you two? And by the way, Winters, you’d better give me the same tip you give my staff.”

“How long are you going to make me pay for hiring Janna?” Harri asked coolly.

“Until I can find a waitress as good as her or I can train one.” Mateo smiled politely at her.

“I’ll have the three enchilada plate,” Jeremy interjected before Harri did something stupid. Mateo wasn’t like his old man back when the girls were in law school. He had no trouble kicking out unruly customers.

“I’ll have the beef taco platter. Crunchy, please.” Harri handed her menu to Mateo as did Jeremy.

Once the owner strode back to the kitchen area, Jeremy eyed Harri over his margarita glass. “I swear you have a natural talent for creating problems where none exist.” “It’s not my fault people make the decisions they do,” she grumbled.

“Have you had Timmy and Arthur do a background check on this Dale Bernhardt?” Jeremy dipped a tortilla chip in the warm queso.

“Arthur’s working on it.” Harri paid too much attention selecting her own chip. “Did his paramour let something slip with you during their phone call?”

“I only get the impression he’s the latest boytoy.” Jeremy ate his chip while he reviewed his conversation with Mel this morning. “You think he may have seduced them on purpose?”

“You’re going to call me paranoid if I do.”

“Shit.” Jeremy leaned back against the back of the booth and regarded Harri. “I wish it was just you. But I suppose some idiot had to pick up where Trubble left off.”

“I almost wish the genetic testing came back negative.” Harri dunked another chip in the gooey cheese.

Jeremy blinked. There was only one reason Harri would be acting this squirrely. “You know, don’t you?”

“Know what?” She said around a mouthful of chip and queso.

He pulled out his phone and texted his question.


         You know who killed Trubble?


Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the message before she turned her phone face down.

“Yes.” She shoved another chip and queso into her mouth.

“And?” He stared at her incredulously.

She slowly chewed and swallowed before she said, “Remember ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’?”

“If Trubble knew about me, his killer sure as hell does,” Jeremy hissed.

“Which was why I was really hoping you and the kids would be going to Los Angeles to record the damn show when I first looked at the paperwork.” She sighed and took another sip of her margarita.

“Harri—” He couldn’t yell at her like when they were kids. They were in a public place. Lord only knew how many eyes were on Harri at any given moment.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Come back to the Lechuza Building with me. I’ll show you everything.”

Jeremy almost said no out of spite, but something said Harri would only make this offer once. Someone considered Byron Trubble, who had been dangerous in his own right, worth kidnapping and killing. If that person wouldn’t stop at using a disturbed local attorney to break Trubble out of a supermax prison and shooting in the back of the head, they wouldn’t hesitate to murder everyone Jeremy cared about.

A Touch of Mother - Chapter 7

Just a reminder this is an unedited chapter from a book that will be released on February 14th.

=============================

Upon returning to the Temple district from the Healers Guild, the bells peeled First Evening. I turned to Dezba. “You’re relieved for the evening, Warden. I need to relay our findings to High Brother Luc.”

She glanced at Little Bear, who inclined his head.

“Very well, m’lady.” She guided her mount toward the alley between Balance and Knowledge. The tiny passage was the closest to our own postern gate.

“You think I won’t perform my duties adequately and inform my superior?” Jeremy bit out when she was far enough away not to overhear. The vehemence in the bright young priest’s tone took me by surprise. The sharp shards of his psyche grated against my own mental walls again. It was almost painful.

Before I could formulate a response, Little Bear kneed his horse between ours. Nassa didn’t respond, but Jeremy’s mount skittered back a few steps. The two Light wardens escorting their priest exchanged looks, but thankfully, they didn’t reach for any weapons.

“You will treat your superior with the respect she deserves.” My chief warden’s rebuke was far milder than the one I would have normally offered. But then, he was trying to save the priest a lashing for insubordination.

Jeremy drew a quick breath and looked to ready to launch another scathing remark, but Little Bear’s calm, steady demeanor reached the younger man far more effectively than harsher words would have. Jeremy exhaled, and the prickly edges of his mind receded. He faced me and bowed.

“My apologies for my ill manners, Chief Justice.”

Both of the Light wardens relaxed at Jeremy’s words.

“Accepted.” I inclined my head in acknowledgement. “Today’s events have disturbed all of us who were involved. And for the record, I would expect Justice Yanaba to report her findings to both me and the high brother of Light in the event of a murder investigation.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

Despite the young priest’s confession of remorse, I definitely needed to have a quiet word with Luc about Jeremy’s behavior. Over the last three months, his attitude had become increasingly distant, as were his ill temper over minor things. Enough so, that Shi Hua confided her worries to both me and Yanaba.

The five of us entered Light’s postern gate. Their stablemaster Henry and two of his hands took our reins.

He bobbed his head. “Would you like one of my boys to return yours and the Chief Warden’s horses to Hogarth, Chief Justice?”

“No, thank you, Henry.” I smiled at the man. “Food and water will be enough. I have a feeling we will need them once I’ve spoken with the high brother.”

“Was this about the boy that was found in the slums this afternoon?” Like Hogarth, Henry had been a warden for his Temple and kept an ear out for any fishwives’ tales that might prove informative and useful.

“Have you learned anything I should know?”

“There’s a rumor floating around the docks the body was dumped by someone in Temple robes.”

A chill ran up my spine. No one but I, the magistrate, and Brother Jeremy knew that. The peacekeepers and wardens had been far enough away, they wouldn’t have seen the ghost images clearly. However, the person who had actually left the boy’s corpse in the alley knew what he or she wore. Was there a witness who feared retribution if they came forward? Or had the rumor been started to cause us more grief?

If Jeremy was right and the person who dumped the corpse wore Balance robes, it would make my investigation a damn sight more difficult. People in Orrin distrusted me thanks to the recent spate of demon incidents in our city alone. “Do you have a source?” I asked.

“My brother heard it at the Seven Coins when he was delivering shellfish there around midday.” Henry shrugged. “Mentioned it when he stopped here for our delivery.”

The Seven Coins was a reputable inn. Luc and I often stayed there when we were on circuit and had to come to Orrin. Back then, I avoided the Temple of Balance itself like the plague unless duty forced me to go there.

“We should send someone through all the inns and taverns. See what other information we can find. Either there was a witness who didn’t come forward, or someone is framing the Temples,” Jeremy said, giving voice to my own worries.

“I agree with the brother,” Little Bear murmured.

“And I need some wine,” I bit out. “Let’s raid Light’s stores and sort through the clues we do have. We’ll proceed from there.”

* * *

When we entered the main sanctuary, the only people other than Brother Garbhan, who was on ministerial duty, and Chief Warden Nicholas were two love wardens. I needed an entire barrel of Pana red even more when I saw Sister Claudia of Love exit the hallway leading to the private chambers of the clergy. She may have been wearing her public veil over her face, but I’d recognize her even if she wore several layers of Diné wool and Plains Nations buffalo robes. Luc was with her, and he wore a huge smile.

My gut clenched. It was the same ridiculous smile Xander had been wearing for the past three months, and the same one Jeremy most likely would be wearing once Shi Hua told him she was with child.

That smile made me want to draw my sword and chop Claudia into tiny pieces. Which wasn’t fair to her. She was doing her duty. We needed more people with Light talent. But something deep and dark inside of me wanted to claim Luc as mine, even though I had no right to do so.

And frankly, I wasn’t sure I could handle bearing a child if I were fertile. Anyone’s babe, much less Luc’s. I feared I would be an even worse parent than my birth mother.

The pair spotted me from across the sanctuary. Luc matched the speed of Claudia’s demure glide across the wood floor. He’d become quite adept with the specialized steel crutches Master Devin had designed for him since the loss of his left foot. He could move nearly as fast on them as he used to be able to run.

They halted before me, and Claudia glanced at Luc. He gave her an encouraging nod.

“May I speak with you privately, Chief Justice?” she said.

I didn’t want to hear this news. I was the one who pointed out Luc couldn’t disobey the edict handed down from our home Temples before the Spring Rituals. It didn’t mean my heart wasn’t broken that he had to lay with other women.

But to deny a minor request from a fellow priestess would be incredibly rude. I swallowed the lump threatening to choke me and nodded.

She led the way to one of the private consultation rooms adjoining the main sanctuary. Once we were inside, she murmured a word. Magic tingled across my skin, and I realized she’d lit the alabaster globe that indicated the room was in use.

She drew her veil back from her face. Her color was a steady orange-yellow. “You have already deduced the news, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” I belatedly added, “Congratulations.”

She sighed. “He loves you. He will always love you, Anthea. You have nothing to fear from me.” Of course, she’d learned about his feelings. It was difficult to withhold thoughts from another talent during such an intimate act.

“I…know.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I hope you can forgive me for my petty feelings. It isn’t fair to you or your child.” I inclined my head toward the globe. “Is that the reason Dragonfly suggested you to…Luc?”

Claudia nodded. The bells hanging from her braids chimed. “My mother was a Light talent, but of course, she could only register as a civilian practitioner. I inherited a small measure of her skills.”

She stepped closer to me. “I hope you realize part of his joy in our conception is that his duty is done, and he can return to warming your bed.”

My face heated at her obvious conclusion. “There’s no point in my case.”

“I am merely suggesting the two of you take advantage of the edict while it is practical.” A wry smile crossed her face. “If you wish to be present for the birth, you are more than welcome, and I would be honored by your presence.”

I laughed at the absurdity of her request. “Let’s see how I handle Justice Yanaba’s birthing before I answer your gracious offer. I’m not sure I would be much help.”

“This child would have been yours if not for Gerd.” Claudia’s voice held so much bitterness, but I knew it had nothing to do with me personally.

“I’m sorry for what she did to you and your sisters.”

Claudia snorted. “I don’t hold her actions against you. I hope you can find it in your heart not to hold your feelings against Luc’s child.”

Her words drove home the truths I wanted to avoid. “I shall do my best.”

“That’s all the Twelve can ask of any of us.” Claudia drew her veil back into place and extinguished the globe.

When we exited, the fear and worry on the men’s faces was comical. The two female wardens appeared to be disgusted by the men.

I leaned toward the Love priestess and said, “I believe they expected us to duel at dawn.”

“Crossbows at twenty paces?” Claudia’s laughter chimed as delicately as her bells.

“You would bring a crossbow to a sword fight.” I chuckled. The humor between us eased the ache in my heart a bit. Maybe, I could grow to accept the situation regarding her unborn child.

“If you two are finished mocking us, perhaps you and Brother Jeremy will enlighten us as to your findings,” Luc said. The scowl he wore didn’t disguise his joy. He was going to have a child.

And someone else lost a child in the last day. A child that should have been protected and cared for and cherished as much as Luc and Claudia would cherish the child she carried.

The swirl of emotions in my heart was too much. My eyes burned and my nose clogged.

“Since you have business to discuss, I will take my leave of you, Chief Justice, High Brother.” Claudia inclined her head before she swept out of the sanctuary in a whirl of fabric and the tinkle of bells. The two Love wardens quickly trotted after her.

“Well…” Luc drawled expectantly.

“May we have a couple of bottles of wine to get through this?” Jeremy muttered.

Luc looked askance at him before his eyes met mine. What’s going on?

“Our brother misspoke.” I shook my head. “We’re going to need a barrel.”

* * *

Sitting in the high brother’s private dining room with the Light clergy, I calmly sipped from my goblet while Luc let loose a stream of Cantish invectives after our reports, including a couple of obscenities I hadn’t heard before. His head of household Istaqa was right. The crisp white wine paired nicely with the baked fish and fresh asparagus Light’s staff served as the evening meal.

Jeremy had warded the room before we started our discussion. When Luc finally had to stop in order to breath, the younger priest also added the gossip from Henry’s brother.

Luc rose from his chair, grabbed his crutches, and started pacing. “Three months? Three months of peace is all we get?” “We knew it was merely the quiet before the next storm,” I said softly.

“There’s been no word from Reverend Father Chen regarding the other cache of demon eggs either,” Shi Hua added. “We also knew the renegades would try something here in Issura eventually.”

Shi Hua’s news added to the unease that had settled on my shoulders since Dragonfly shared her dispatch from the home Temple of Love this morning. Jing’s Reverend Father Biming of Thief had traced part of a cache of demon eggs to this side of the Peaceful Sea. The hatching of those eggs resulted in the demon army we faced in Tandor.

From what Biming, Shi Hua, and Ambassador Quan said of Chen, Jing’s Reverend Father of Conflict, he had issues with his ego and often let his pride get in his way. However, he was an accomplished warrior and adamant about his duties. He and members of his order chased the other half of the eggs. If neither the Jing Temples nor Emperor Chengwu had received any message from Chen over the last three months, Balance only knew whether he and his people were even still alive.

Or where those damn eggs were. Or even if they’d already hatched.

“With all due respect, High Brother, we need to focus on what we can control,” Little Bear said before he turned to me. “Given your reaction to Henry’s revelation in the stableyard, the rumor is true.”

I nodded. “The news gets worse. The robes the person who dumped the corpse wore were either Balance or Death.”

“There was no insignia though despite the style and color,” Jeremy added.

Luc paused in his pacing. “Just like the renegades who abducted me wearing Light colors.”

I nodded again. “However, the blanket originally wrapped around Yellow Fin’s body to carry it to the alley bore the insignia of Mother.”

Luc dropped into his chair and leaned his crutches against the table. “Jeremy, did—”

“Of course, I had someone confirm it,” the younger priest snapped. “The magistrate saw the same thing I did.” Everyone stared at Jeremy.

Realizing his poor manners, his face turned a brilliant crimson. “I apologize for my outburst, High Brother. This affair disturbs me more than I care to admit.”

Should I ask? Luc whispered in my mind.

Yes, there’s additional information you should be aware of regarding your second, I replied. But now is not the time for that particular discussion.

“It’s disturbing to all of us.” Shi Hua laid her hand over Jeremy’s. He normally would have responded to her gesture with a smile or turning his palm to meet hers. He didn’t respond, and the hurt in Shi Hua’s expression was obvious even to me.

Now, I know what part of our discussion will be about, Luc said sourly.

“Have you spoken with High Mother Bianca about the dead boy?” he said aloud.

“Only as far as informing her about the death of one of her charges.” I cut into the fish on my plate. “Neither she or the two other priestesses with her were surprised. Chief Warden Maebh was disturbed. She tried to take the blame for Yellow Fin’s death by stating she had been restricting the clergy of Mother due to the recent spate of attempted assassinations on Temple seats in Orrin.”

Luc snorted. “Like the High Mother would do anything someone else told her to do.”

“Mother’s chief warden may have been the one who dumped the body,” Garbhan said quietly. “The act could be preying on her conscience.”

Everyone at the table turned to stare at the newest Light priest. He so rarely offered an opinion.

“That’s merely speculation at this point,” Shi Hua murmured. She’d withdrawn her hand from Jeremy’s and now poked at her dinner.

Little Bear tapped a galloping rhythm with his fingertips on the oak tabletop. “Nor do we have enough evidence to truthspell her.” His drumming stopped. “What if Gina spoke with her, warden to warden?”

I pushed back my plate and leaned my elbows on the table. “Maebh’s not likely to confide in a junior warden.”

Little Bear shrugged. “Both High Sister Dragonfly and Justice Yanaba wanted to recruit Gina as their chief warden. She could say that Chief Justice Elizabeth has asked Gina to accompany her to her new assignment, and she wanted to speak to another chief warden before making a final decision.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Chief Warden.” Luc leaned back in his chair.

“Why can’t you talk to her peer-to-peer?” I asked.

This time, Little Bear’s face glowed red. “Because, um, there was a confrontation between her and Sivan before Chief Justice Penelope passed.”

“When?” I growled. “And what exactly happened?” The clergy of both Balance and Light had completely turned over in the last two years. If there were additional issues between the Orrin Temple personnel, Luc and I needed to know.

Little Bear took a long swig of water and cleared his throat. “It was the Spring Rituals three years ago. I swear Maebh and I were only discussing our duties—”

“But that wasn’t how Sivan perceived your interactions,” I said.

“No.” He sighed. “Thankfully, Maebh chose not to file charges against though the magistrate urged her to.”

I paused in taking another sip of wine. “DiCook wanted to throw Sivan in the gaol?”

“Given the situation with Chief Justice Penelope at the time, I think it was his way to get all of us to calm down.” Little Bear smiled wryly. “She would have certainly have executed her own head of household in her mental state at the time.”

“So,” Luc drawled. “It’s a matter of keeping the Balance household running smoothly rather than any personal issue between you and Maebh?”

“Yes, High Brother.” The relief from Little Bear was a palpable thing.

I’d never seen my chief warden nonplussed before. But then, I’d been on the receiving end of Sivan’s temper as well, though I’m sure her annoyance with me wasn’t fueled by drink or lust.

Luc turned to me. “So what’s our next step?”

“High Brother Xander and I have instituted general inventories at our respective Temples.” I shrugged. “Unfortunately, our culprit may have acquired their disguise elsewhere like the skinwalker and his minions did. Otherwise, we’ll stick with my chief warden’s plan and see it Gina can shake some information loose from Maebh.”

“There’s another matter we need to address,” Jeremy said.

“Yes, Brother?” Luc inclined his head to encourage the younger priest.

“The south side slums are turning into a giant flashbang with a very short fuse.” Jeremy toyed with the condensation on the side of his goblet. “Is there anything we can do to encourage the queen to increase the pace of resettlement? It’s been three months, and less than ten percent of the Tandorans sheltering in Orrin have been placed.”

Little Bear shot me a wide-eyed look. “Should I have accompanied you this afternoon?” I shook my head. “Tensions were high due to the murder of a child.”

“There was also resentment of us,” Jeremy said. “They expected the Temples to save them.”

“We did—” I started.

“At the cost of their lives and homes!” Jeremy gestured wildly in the direction of the south end of the city. “Now, they live in pest-infested tenements, eating what little scraps are given to them, when they would rather continue their trades.”

“I’m not unsympathetic to their plight, Brother,” I snapped. “But pray tell, where do we place them within our duchy that won’t cause resentment among our own populace?”

“What has the magistrate said about conditions on the south side?” Once again, Garbhan’s quiet voice cut through the emotion in the room. Now, I was beginning to understand why Reverend Father Farrell of Light had chosen such a young priest as one of his personal advisors.

“Peacekeepers patrolling past the Temples of Death and Vintner do so in groups of three or four,” Little Bear said. I cocked my head and regarded him. “How did you learn this?”

“The magistrate mentioned it to all the chief wardens.” Little Bear shrugged. “If tempers boil over, the Temples will be the next closest targets other than the butchers and the lower docks.”

“Twelve take everyone,” I muttered and rubbed my temples as a headache I couldn’t blame on too much wine intruded. Despite my jest at wanting a whole barrel, I’d barely drank half of the white wine Istaqa had poured for me. “Then we need to speak with both the duke and the magistrate. The last thing we need is a human riot in the middle of a demon attack.”

Hero De Facto - Chapter 7

“Captain Justice?” Rey stared at Aisha from the passenger seat of her BMW as they headed for the downtown police station.

“Sorry.” Aisha glanced at him. “It was the first thing that popped into my head.”

“No worries. I kind of like it.” He cleared his throat. “But about Harri being my foster mom…”

Aisha sighed. “Sometimes a good bluff can get you out of tight situations. I wasn’t about to let those assholes have my notes about you.”

“So you lied to protect me?”

Damn, Harri was right. This guy really was too good to be true. “If it bothers you that much, I understand if you don’t want me representing you.”

“No. I—”

She glanced at him. He actually appeared grateful.

“I’m not upset. I’ve never had anyone put themselves on the line for me since my mother died. You and Harri have both done it, and you barely know me.”

His admission floored her. She’d always had Harri watching her back, then Jeremy when Harri had dragged him into her fold. She couldn’t imagine someone like Rey not having anyone.

Aisha swallowed the sentimentality threatening to overwhelm her. “When we get to police headquarters, let me do all the talking. You’re my new assistant. Comprende?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She shot him a glare. “What did I say about calling me ‘ma’am’?”

“A legal assistant wouldn’t call his boss by her first name, Ms. Franklin,” he said coolly.

Maybe representing Captain Justice would work out after all.

* * *

By the time Aisha arrived at Interrogation #1 with Rey at her heels, she wore her bitch scowl. She ignored the detective and strode over to Harri. “Did they hurt you?”

“No.”

“Miranda?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry, counselor,” the detective snapped. “Your client hasn’t said a thing.”

Aisha turned her attention to him. “I want to talk to the ADA assigned to this case.”

“I’m here,” came an all-too-familiar voice from behind her.

Shit. Her day just kept getting worse. She pivoted to face the doorway.

Calvin Johnson met her careful gaze. The gray sprinkled along his temples gave him a distinguished air. Otherwise, her ex-husband looked just as handsome as he had the day they met twenty years ago.

But the old feelings didn’t tug at her like they had any other time she’d run into him over the past two years. Now, she just felt tired.

His attention turned to the woman handcuffed to the table. “How’s it going, Harri?”

“Your accommodations are just fucking wonderful, Cal.” God help anyone Harri gave that nasty smile to.

He nodded before turning back to Aisha. “Let’s talk outside.”

“Rey, stay with Harri,” she said over her shoulder as she followed Cal into the hallway.

When the door clicked shut, she said, “You’ve got nothing, and we both know it. Why the charges?”

He ran a hand over his hair. “I’ve already had that argument with the DA. He says she’s withholding information about the real culprit, Professor Venom, which makes her, at the minimum, an accessory.”

Aisha crossed her arms. “Based on what evidence?”

He cocked his head. “You know, don’t you? You’re fishing.”

“You still need to provide any and all evidence to defense counsel.”

“Dammit, Aisha,” Cal muttered. “You’re an IP attorney, not a defense lawyer, and you’re in over your head. I can give you the names of some people who do defense work.”

“Are you refusing to cooperate with my request, Mr. Johnson?”

His exasperated sigh was her reward. “Two administration assistants at City Hall heard a masked man dressed in black announce himself as Professor Venom when he entered Harri’s office. Not only did she fail to provide that information to an officer at the scene, she fled.”

“All hearsay, and you know it. And she didn’t flee. She was traumatized by two attempts on her life.”

Cal rocked on his heels. “Two attempts? What are you talking about?”

“Look, I can talk her into cooperating if you tell me what the hell is going on.”

Cal learned closer and lowered his voice. “I don’t know what Harri did to piss off the mayor, but both he and the DA are gunning for her. My hands are tied.”

Politics. It always came back to politics. “What are they willing to do?”

Cal shrugged. “Conspiracy with the minimum sentence.”

Aisha felt her jaw drop. “That’s still a felony. She’ll lose her license.”

He shrugged again. “Sorry. Best I can do.”

“She’s got no priors, Cal.”

He simply stared at her through his wire rims. They weren’t giving him any room to maneuver, which was pretty damn odd.

“Fine.” Aisha clenched her jaw and stalked back into the interrogation room. She pointed at the detective. “Out.”

He left with a huff of his rancid garlic breath.

She repeated the deal to Harri.

“Fuck, no!” She rattled the handcuff. “You’ve got to get me out of here. Someone’s setting up both me and Professor Venom.”

Aisha planted her palms on the table. “We need help. Neither of us are defense attorneys. And someone’s trying very hard to get you out of the way. Too hard.”

Harri blinked. “What are you talking about? What else did Cal say?”

“It wasn’t just the assistant district attorney.” Rey entered the conversation. “Aisha’s boss said she was fired if she represented you.”

Harri stared at Aisha. “You’ll never get that partnership if you stay here.”

“I wasn’t getting it anyway.” Aisha chuckled and straightened. “I don’t have a dick, so I quit.” She sobered. “You need to consider giving the police a statement about Professor Venom.”

“I’m not throwing my client to the wolves to save my own skin,” Harri snapped.

Aisha held up both palms. “Didn’t think you would, but as your current counsel, I’ve got to present all your options. I’ll relay your rejection of their deal, and see about bail. If the DA doesn’t drop the bullshit, you’ll need someone who specializes in defense.”

She headed for the door, but with her hand on the knob, she looked back at Harri. “By the way, since I’m unemployed, is that offer to be your partner still open?”

* * *

Harri lay on the hard narrow cot and stared at the concrete ceiling. She supposed she should be grateful they hadn’t put her in the general population, but privacy didn’t improve the accommodations. She wasn’t getting any sleep tonight, she knew that much.

Aisha had made a heroic effort, but, according to Cal, the district attorney Mike Michaels intended to fight bail on the grounds Harri was a flight risk. A flight risk! She snorted and curled on her side trying to get more comfortable.

If only people knew how very little money she actually had. Grandma Harri had tried to leave her namesake the bulk of her estate, but Harri’s feckless father—or more accurately Harri’s grasping step-mother—had fought for control of the estate trust and won. While it was true Grandma had gotten a little eccentric toward the end, she hadn’t been mentally incompetent when she’d revised the will to make Harri her sole heir. Grandma had simply known how quickly her son and his new wife would piss through the money if they got it.

She hadn’t been wrong. Dad and Laura had taken their remaining assets with them when they drove the Porsche off a cliff with a big bag of coke in the glove box.

All that was left was the scholarship endowment up at the University and the nest egg in the safe deposit box. And Harri had sworn that she wouldn’t touch that hidden money unless it was absolutely necessary.

Like maybe right now.

Harri groaned and rolled over again. This cot was cruel and unusual punishment.

Fortunately, Aisha had managed to set up an in-chambers bail hearing with Judge Inunza first thing in the morning, and, considering how well Inunza liked Cal’s boss, Harri would be out in time for breakfast. They had no evidence against her. Nothing. At best they might get her on minor obstruction for not immediately ratting out Arthur, but it’s not like they had tried to formally question her before her arrest. She couldn’t be convicted for withholding evidence nobody had asked her to give.

Judge Burgess, Quentin Samuels’s golf buddy, had been the judge on the arrest warrant. Harri smiled. Inunza had spent his teenaged summers caddying at Whitechapel Country Club, in the not-so-old days when a brown kid named Pablo could aspire to carry the clubs but not actually swing them. He had zero patience with the local old boy golf network. He’d grant Harri low bail just to piss of Burgess and Quentin. And Mike Michaels who, Harri remembered, had gone to prep school with Burgess.

In a city this big, you’d think we wouldn’t all know each other.

Much to her surprise, she yawned deeply. Maybe she would get some sleep. It had been a busy day after all. Being strip searched and deloused had really taken it out of her.

At least I know I don’t have cooties. She burst into giggles at the thought, which quickly escalated into guffaws.

Her cell door buzzed. Why would someone come to get her after lights out? She sat upright, suddenly wide awake, her laughter gone.

A dark figure lunged inside her cell. In the dim light from the hallway, she had time to register paramilitary clothing and a black face mask.

Just like the asshole who’d set City Hall on fire.

In a fluid motion, the figure spun her and shoved her face-first on the cot.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” a hoarse male voice whispered in her ear.

Harri felt a large gloved hand grasp the back of her skull.

“Don’t move. My partner has to believe you’re comatose. I need your help,” the voice whispered. “Keep Patty safe. Please. And the baby.”

Holy crap! Was this guy the unknown sperm donor?

“I will,” Harri breathed back.

“Thank you,” he slid his fingers around her wrist as if checking her pulse. “I’m supposed to be giving you an aneurysm. Don’t move until you hear the cell door lock.”

“Security camera?” Harri whispered.

He grasped her skull again. “We took care of it. Nobody will check on you until the morning shift change. I’ll make sure your lawyer gets here before then.”

She felt his weight lift off her and, as instructed, didn’t move until she’d heard the lock click. She counted to a hundred to be safe before she carefully raised her head.

An aneurysm? The guy must be a super. Patty’s baby daddy was a super. And he was sent here to kill me.

Fear uncoiled from her belly and spread through her. She shook with the weight of it. Not just for herself, but for her assistant, too. She shook inside the jail cell she wouldn’t be in if some serious procedural corners hadn’t been cut. What the fuck have I gotten us into?

Harri curled up into a tight ball on the cot and waited for morning.

A Modicum of Truth - Chapter 7

Hello, my wonderful readers! Here's one last chapter of the upcoming Justice novel, A Modicum of Truth.

From now until after the New Year, I'll be radio silent (or slightly internet silent anyway). I'll be spending the next couple of weeks editing A Modicum of Truth and the next Bloodlines novel, Sacrificed.

(P.S. If you want early notification of when one of my books is available, plus notice of sales and special deals, you can sign up for my newsletter. The sign-up box is on your right; you may have to switch to desktop mode if you're on your phone. I WILL NOT spam you. Nor will I sell or give your personal information to anyone.)

In addition, I need to finish reviewing the paperback proofs of Blood Sacrifice and Ravaged. They've been sitting on my to-do list for some time, and I really need to get all this taken care of because DH is on a house-hunting rampage.

On the plus side, I said I'm not buying anything unless I have my own office!

I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday season! Here's to an incredible 2018!

_________________________________________________

Sivan scrambled to her feet to intercept the ambassador and escort him to my office. While Hogarth and Deborah guided everyone else in the cleaning of our dining tables, Little Bear pulled me aside.

“Was there something else?” I asked innocently.

“You know damn well what I’m objecting to,” he growled. At least, he didn’t undermine my authority in front of the rest of the staff. He’d taken last month’s lecture about discretion to heart. “You need more than just Tyra on this trip.”

“I need you here more than I need you to watch my back,” I murmured. “You saw Noko and Daniel’s reports from earlier today.”

“I also know about the coin Daniel found and what it means.” Of course, Noko had informed her chief warden of my off-the-record meeting with High Brother Talbert. Little Bear raked his hands over his short hair, a gesture I seemed to provoke in many men these days.

“Which is exactly why I need you guarding Yanaba,” I said. “I fear the Assassins Guild may target her next in order to make an additional point.”

His eyebrow arched. “You’re on the top of their list, not her.”

I grinned. “They’ve lost too many of their people trying to kill me. They need easier prey.”

“Like Dante’s children?” His gaze felt like a knife slowly penetrating my ribs before it sliced into my heart.

“Yes,” I whispered. “And Yanaba is just as vulnerable as they were. She needs you more than I do at the moment.”

“You know Tandor is a trap.” His hands clenched. He was probably imagining them wrapped around my throat in order to shake some sense into me.

“It’s the not-so-obvious traps that worry me. And we have more than enough of them here in Orrin. I need you here, and that’s the end of the discussion, Chief Warden.” I pivoted on my boot heel and strode toward my office. Little Bear was following his duty, but he needed to learn personal feelings did not always mesh with those obligations. A bitter lesson I still had trouble swallowing.

* * *

This time, Quan’s guards didn’t question me entering my own office because I’d left my cloak in the courtroom. Therefore, my face, and especially my eyes, were visible to them.

I found the ambassador lounging in my chair with the missive from the queen in his hand. “Enjoying yourself, Quan Po?”

His answering smile sent the beads at the ends of his long moustache swaying. “I wasn’t sure how long you would be, dearest Anthea, so I found some reading material to pass the time.” He rose and bowed. “I’ve come to offer my services.”

“Your services?”

There was one quick knock on my door before Sivan bustled in with a tray. Steam rose from the teapot, bringing with it the scent of my secret stash of expensive Jing black tea. The tray also held a selection of almond and cinnamon dessert pastries as well as teacups. The ambassador laid my pardon on my desk, but remained silent while my personal assistant set everything in place.

Sivan shot me a sharp look when she was done. My subtle negation didn’t make her happy, but she left anyway. Two of my own wardens would be outside my door and challenging Quan’s guards to a staring contest while the ambassador and I spoke.

While I understood my personal assistant’s feelings on the matter, my relationship with Quan was a necessary one these days. I gestured for him to take a seat at the little table, which he did. He stayed quiet until I poured the tea and handed him the cup.

“The rumor among the fishwives is that you and High Brother Luc are riding south in a few days.” He watched me over the rim of his cup, but I also knew when to remain silent.

His lips twitched in faint amusement. “It has been suggested to me that a sea route would be safer, quicker, and would catch our demon dealers by surprise.”

I didn’t need to ask who had made the suggestion. Shi Hua was a very clever young priestess. I snorted. “Hardly. They already know we’re coming.”

“But not when and not how.” Quan sipped his tea. “The next high tide is at Second Night, and my ship is ready to launch.”

His proposal had some merit. Sailing along the coast would get us to Tandor two days early. And if Luc and I could scout the city prior to officially approaching the temples, we would have a better idea of what was in store for us. “And how long will your ship stay in Tandor’s port?”

“Three days. The captain was supposed to go late tomorrow to pick up a shipment of pulque and azul wine. However, his first mate is a registered weather oracle—”

“Another storm?” I sighed and refilled both our cups.

“No ice this time.” Quan saluted me with his cup before taking a deep drink.

“Thank Balance for that.” However, this close to the spring equinox we should be having fewer storms, not more, regardless of the ice question.

I stared at the orange steam wafting from my own tea. Three days. Could we even begin to accomplish what we needed to in three days? “What about our horses?”

Quan shrugged. “It depends on how well they travel by ship. But are you sure you want to take temple-trained mounts with you, Anthea? If you hope to reconnoiter the city prior to your official arrival, such horses will be obvious to those enemies who are all too aware of temple practices.”

“And you believe a red-eyed woman and a man with a missing foot won’t prompt questions?”

“True,” Quan admitted. “But human traits could be disguised. The horses will be far more difficult.”

I didn’t like depending on anyone else for transport, especially in a situation fraught with uncertainty, but Quan made a good point. “I still must speak with High Brother Luc first.”

“As I surmised.”

“If we’re not at the docks when your captain is ready to cast off, he is not to wait,” I said.

Quan laughed and set his cup on the fine ceramic saucer that accompanied the serving tray. “Trust me. He won’t.”

We both rose at the same time. “Thank you for assistance, Ambassador Quan.”

“My pleasure.” We both bowed, and he departed.

While he was being more than helpful now, I had to wonder exactly what the Jing emperor’s brother would want in return.

Ravaged - Chapter 7

I had to take last week off to write, edit and submit my short story for this year's volume of Sword and Sorceress. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll continue my streak. 😃

* * *

Chapter 7

Logan swallowed his irritation about getting turned into Alyson Tribideaux’s personal pack mule. Or maybe the irritation stemmed from how great her ass looked in her jeans as she bent over her tripod while she set up a shot of the main building. “Since you’ve drafted a film intern for free, are you saving your money for Morgan Freeman to narrate this documentary?”

She glanced up at him. “What?”

He stared up at the overcast sky. This morning’s beautiful sunshine was long gone, and low gray clouds scudded across his view. They insinuated more snow on the way. “Morgan Freeman. He’s played God before.”

She looked at him and grinned. “I hear James Earl Jones is cheaper.”

“You really think Haight would sign off on you using Darth Vader to do the voice-over about his compound?”

She laughed. “You’re right. Actually, I don’t worry about hiring the voice work until I edit the film and write the narrative.” She turned back to the viewfinder.

“Don’t you have some idea of what would work?”

“If you mean, will I use Frank Oz as Miss Piggy for the vocals, then yes, I know what definitely won’t work.” She made a few adjustments, and the camera emitted a high-pitched electronic whine as it recorded. The pitch was so high most Normals didn’t hear it.

“So you do have someone in mind?”

She laughed again and straightened. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying pitch your talent.”

“Dream on, Miss Director.”

She looked at him with real curiosity. “So are you just going to throw feed bags around for the rest of your life?” He stared at the surrounding forest. The subject of what he used to do before his abduction didn’t sit well with most weres. But why did he care what she thought?

He shrugged. “I don’t really know yet. After Vietnam and college, I did the computer start-up thing three times. Sold each of the companies for a profit. I’m not sure what I want to try next.”

She cocked her head. “Vietnam? I-I didn’t realize you were that old.”

“Does that bother you?”

“N-No.” She quickly turned back to the viewfinder, though the digital camera was working just fine.

For some reason, her discomfort sent a tickle of amusement through him. He crossed his arms. “Got something against middle-aged men?”

“No. Now, shush. I’m working.”

Before he could continue teasing Alyson, Sharon appeared over the little ridge in the field with a cardboard drink carrier. From the way she huffed and puffed, she’d hiked around the compound in order to stay outside of Alyson’s camera shot. “Thought…you might…need some coffee.”

Logan grabbed the carrier before she dropped it. “Thank you.”

“Sorry.” Sharon bent over and rested her hands on her knees. “I’m still working to get back in shape. Believe it or not, I used to run cross-country.”

Alyson sniffed. “Oh, my goodness! Is that really café au lait?” She acted like an addict herself with the way she stared at the lidded disposable cups.

“Good nose.” Sharon grinned and straightened. “I doubt if mine is as excellent as the ones in New Orleans, but they get me through the afternoon.”

Logan handed Alyson a cup, and she took a sip. Her ecstatic expression made him wish he was the cause, not a cup of milk and coffee.

“This is incredible, Sharon!”

Haight’s assistant blushed. She seemed to do that a lot. “I’ll have some ready for you in the morning.”

Logan frowned. “About tomorrow morning, I can’t get the time off two days in a row.”

Alyson shot him an arch look. On the other hand, a hint of dismay shone in Sharon’s eyes. Great, now he had two women upset with him.

“And what makes you think I need your help, Mr. Polk?” the were said sharply.

He suppressed the urge to bark back. “You need someone for the set up. Otherwise, it’s going take you twice as long to unwind all your cords.” He pointed to Sharon. “She’s got her own job to do, as does everyone else who lives here.”

Alyson crossed her arms. “So what are you suggesting?”

He was really beginning to hate her stance. It made him want to tackle her and prove who was alpha. “What about Sarah Goldstein? She can use the experience for her independent study project. You would have your unpaid intern while you’re in Tuttle Creek without worrying about her room, board and travel expenses.”

“I’ll be the judge of who I need—”

The instant the words left her mouth, a gust of wind seized the camera tripod. Logan caught it before the tripod and the very expensive video camera hit the ground.

“This is why you need a real assistant.” He grinned.

She grimaced. “We’ll talk about it on the way back to my cabin.”

* * *

Two hours later, alarm bells rang in Alyson’s head when Logan took the turn for the town instead of the road up the mountain. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

He didn’t even bother to look at her. “You accepted Esther’s invitation to dinner, remember? And you need to talk to Sarah about her working as your assistant for the next week.”

“We said we would discuss on the ride back to my cabin,” she ground out.

“No, you said that, not me.” He flashed her a grin. “But we are talking about it on the ride back to Tuttle Creek.”

“And why can’t we pick up my vehicle?”

His scent turned as sharp and acidic as vinegar. “Did you notice the change in weather while you were getting your outdoor shots?”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “It was getting cloudy. So what?”

“First of all, there’s another snow storm coming in. This time, it’s going to stick for the rest of the winter. Second, we lost four hikers this year because they were too dumbassed to come back down the mountain when the weather soured.” He shot a glare at her. “Third, the snow will start before dinner’s over, and that pansy-assed banana of yours with its lack of snow tires or chains won’t be able to climb back up the mountain.”

She made a low growl in the back of her throat, but he ignored her challenge. Her father would be the first to tell her she was damn lucky that Logan didn’t accept.

That thought made her feel worse. She swiveled her head to stare the passenger window.

Why did Logan Polk make her feel so incompetent? Of course she had checked the weather report this morning. She’d actually planned to use the incoming storm to gracefully bow out of the Goldstein’s invitation.

Alyson wasn’t aware she’d made another sound until he said, “What was that? I have trouble translating wolf when I’m not one.”

She turned slowly to glare at him and his shit-eating grin. Aunt Francine was right. She should have kept her distance from this man. “It means you’re as controlling as my father, and that isn’t a compliment,” she snapped.

Logan took a deep breath. Good to know she was irritating him as much as he was her. “Considering some of the damn fool things you’ve done in the two days I’ve known you, René probably has a full-time job trying to keep you from killing yourself.”

Alyson clasped her gloved hands together and stared out the windshield. Her old grief tainted the air as memories of finding her mother filled her mind.

“You know your father loves you. He’s just trying to protect you,” Logan said softly.

His half-assed attempt at a non-apology was the last thing she needed to hear. “I guess you middle-aged men know everything.” Her reply was as bitter as the scent she emitted, the scent she couldn’t suppress.

“More than some snot-nosed pup.”

She stared at him. Anger shoved the past out of the way. “Is that what you think of me?”

He took another deep breath. It reminded her of Papa whenever she rejected one of the suitors he presented. “I think your father didn’t do you any favors by overprotecting you. You’re making…errors of judgment regarding the people and environment around you.”

Now he was deliberately attempting to piss her off. “My first instinct was to stay away from you, so my judgment is just fine!”

“Forget I said anything then,” he snapped.

“I will, rabbit-bait,” she shot back. And Mother Wolf help her, she’d never talk to him again.

* * *

Logan bit his tongue to keep from returning her insult. He was going to get through tonight’s meal without losing his temper. He owed the witches that much. He knew Esther meant well by inviting the snot-nosed bitch to dinner. And dammit, he wasn’t going to be the one who broke the peace of the Goldstein home. But for the love of Mother Wolf, this girl could be an idiot.

Her silence stretched until they reached the valley floor when he couldn’t take it anymore. “If things are that bad at home and you don’t want to stay in New Orleans, you can always join another pack.”

Alyson remained silent.

“Look, if we don’t pretend to be civil to each other during dinner, the Goldsteins, especially Sarah, will drive you insane trying to fix the problem.”

She snorted. “Why should I be nice to you? You see me as either a stuck-up, spoiled pack princess or an omega to be kicked around and raped by the rest of the males.”

What the hell had he stepped in? Worse, what the hell was going on in New Orleans? “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m also too stupid to understand pack politics. Any other insults you want to add to your list, Mr. Polk?” she finished with a heaping serving of sarcasm.

“I get it. You’re pissed Auntie Francine replaced your mom in your daddy’s affections.” He immediately regretted the words. Obviously something was itching under her skin, but lashing back like this wasn’t going to help him find out what it was.

“How dare you.” Her voice was low-pitched, dangerous. Whenever his own mother sounded like that, someone was about to lose some fur.

If they were lucky.

“You’re the one who’s made it clear she hates being a wolf. And I’m getting tired of you treating me like your own personal omega.” This time, the grin he flashed wasn’t well-meant, and he made sure to show all his teeth. “I bite back.”

“You’re right.”

That simple admission startled him. “About what?”

“My feelings regarding the pack.” Her sniff sounded suspiciously like she was trying not to let tears fall. “I’m too much like my mother.”

“What do you mean? From what I know, Minuette was everything a packmaster could ask for in a mate.”

“And she hated every minute of it. So much so she killed herself.”

That bit of news hit Logan in the gut. She couldn’t be serious. But her surreptitious swipe of her face said Alyson was deadly serious.

“I’m sorry. I heard she died in a car accident.”

“That’s the story everyone was told.” Her scent switched from bitter grief to the sulfur of anger. “Aunt Francine did what she had to in order to protect me.”

“I’m still sorry you had to go through that.”

She did a one-shoulder shrug. “Let’s drop it.”

He’d never heard of a werewolf actually committing suicide. Just how bad was life with René Tribideaux that his wife would rather kill herself than live with him? Especially if Alyson was as young as Logan suspected she was when Minuettte died.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought killing himself at a couple of points during his imprisonment, but that was before his captors had placed Sarah in the cage with him. The old memories triggered his own anxiety, and he forced his fingers to unclench round the steering wheel. The itch of fur along his skin faded as he counted each deep breath he took.

But his anxiety wasn’t the real problem. Alyson Tribideaux was rapidly becoming his own personal itch he didn’t dare scratch. He wasn’t about to give her the advantage by letting her know that, but it didn’t mean he had to be a total asshole.

The eleventh deep breath didn’t do a damn thing to clear his head. Worse, it filled his brain with too many ideas regarding her. How the hell was he going to survive dinner?

A Question of Balance - Chapter 7

Sorry it's taken so long to post a new chapter. There's been a lot of things going on at home. Therefore, I won't be posting as often over the next month, possibly two. Hope everyone is having a terrific spring!

***

“Father, help us,” Kam swore.

I tapped my fingers against the table. “Now why would Sister Gretchen designate Lady Alessa?”

Kam stared at me. “Really, Anthea? Do I have to spell it out for you? She uses the phrase ‘my beloved soulmate’ in the naming.”

I frowned. “But the sisters of the Temple of Love don’t marry.”

His exasperated sigh revealed his annoyance with me. “That doesn’t mean they don’t fall in love.”

I leaned back in my seat. “I’m sorry. I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around the quiet, efficient Alessa with a priestess of Love.”

“Sometimes, true love doesn’t recognize arbitrary boundaries.” The sadness in Kam’s voice reminded me of his own forbidden affair. And Duke Marco had almost died because his mother couldn’t deal with the fact he was in love with a veterinary apprentice.

“I wonder if this is why Lady Alessa’s not married yet. The nobility gets rather prissy about such things when heirs and tradition are involved.”

He slowly shook his head. “Not according to the gossip mongers. The issue is her parents’ treason.”

I rubbed my temples. A nasty ache was developing behind my eyes. “Unfortunately, this puts an entirely different twist to Sister Gretchen’s body being found in the DiMara wine cellar.”

“Surely, you don’t believe—”

I held up my hand to stop him. “Right now, any conjectures are just that without evidence.”

The Goddess must have been looking out for me. Three separate discussions melded into one.

I leaned forward again. “Both you and Bertrice mentioned that you thought Gerd had a way to circumvent a truthspell. Yesterday, Luc said when he questioned Lady Alessa, she seemed to be fighting his spell. What if the Loves have managed to develop a counter-spell?”

“You’re mad,” Kam spluttered.

“No.” I held up an index finger. “Think about it. The order has always been privy to a great number of secrets thanks to pillow talk. What’s stopping some unscrupulous group from abducting a priestess and truthspelling her?”

Kam rubbed his chin as he considered my theory. “To protect their sisterhood, they wouldn’t inform any of the other temples. And definitely not share the information with any of the registered talents.”

“But what if one priestess shared that information with her lover—”

“Who happened to be an unregistered talent,” Kam finished. He frowned and tapped the parchment. “Not that the properties Gretchen has left Alessa are insignificant, but that DiMara holdings outstrip those named in the declaration.”

I laughed, a mirthless one. The circumstantial evidence mounted against a woman I truly liked. “Are you going senile, too? You were at the sentencing at the DiMaras’ trial last summer. All their properties went to Marco and Katarina.”

Kam’s sigh was weary. “Leaving his sisters with nothing but their brother’s obligation for their bride price should they marry.” He shook his head again. “Even if she were responsible, I can’t see Lady Alessa being foolish enough to hide the body on the family estate.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Neither do I. And the barrel containing Gretchen’s corpse was definitely on the wagon from Pana Valley. Members of the household staff and my own rewinding of the timeline confirmed that fact.”

Kam frowned. “Do you want me to accompany you to question her again?”

“Would you mind terribly if I ask for two priests this time? One to truthspell Alessa while I question her, another to watch for the counterspell?”

The old priest laughed. “You’ll need to ask the new chief priest for that particular favor. I doubt he’ll say no to you.” He winked.

I shook my head. “You’re incorrigible.”

He inclined his head toward the declaration. “What about this?”

“Place it your safekeeping niche for now. Would you please ask Luc read it after his other business for me?”
“I’ll pass on both of your requests, my dear.”

I retrieved my heavy cloak, stalked through the main doors and down the steps. My clerk Donella would have today’s docket paperwork ready for me to proof and sign. And maybe I’d have a little time to research a possible counter to a truthspell.

The street teemed with traffic today since the rain had stopped for that last few hours. I checked for oncoming wagons and carriages before my foot descended from the last marble step onto the cobblestone. A horse and rider raced around the corner between Light and Thief. I jumped back, a stream of invectives on my tongue. Someone snagged my arm as more steeds poured out of the cross street.

I turned to my late rescuer. My polite thanks died at the telltale indigo in his hand. Sidestepping the knife aimed for my gut, I head-butted the man’s nose. Sticky warmth splashed my cheeks.

Instead of a shriek, he pivoted and swept my legs from under me. My hip landed on the corner of the marble step, and pain shot across my gut. His kick to my ribs forced any remaining air out of my lungs.

“Stupid bitch,” he hissed. “You should have been as blind as your sisters,” he hissed as drove the knife toward my throat.

Blood Sacrifice (Bloodlines #5) - Chapter 7

Well, we are now at that magic twenty percent sample size (assuming my final word count comes out where I think it should. I'm going to continue to post chapters because it's keeping me on track, and from the blog hits, ya'll are enjoying it. The writing  and editing are just going slower than I'd like because we are packing to move. So the actual novel won't be released until some time after August 5th (i.e. Moving Day). But once the novel goes on sale, count on all chapters after this one disappearing from the blog due to contractual obligations with Amazon, Apple, etc.

P.S. Any feedback is appreciated!

***
Too many question tumbled through Alex’s mind as he drove back to Phil’s store. The top of the list—what the hell was the item Beatrice Madison tried to sell, and why was it worth killing for?

“We need to check your files.”

“My files?” Oncoming headlights flashed across her face. “Jane said she’d get them for you, didn’t she?”

Alex chuckled. “It’s not her fault she forgot. She was a little thrown off when she realized I was a vampire.”

Phillippa sighed. “She probably planned to make copies for you in the morning.”

Out cold, Kiki didn’t budge when he pulled into the parking lot and braked to a stop behind the shop. Phil reached for the dog, and Alex laid a hand over hers. Electricity sparked, not her powers but the old-fashioned attraction between a man and a woman. She licked her upper lip.

As much as he wanted to accept the invitation, he didn’t dare. “Let her sleep. I doubt if she has for the last couple of days.” Reluctantly, he slid his hand from hers at her acknowledgement.

They climbed out of the truck and gently shut their respective doors. He followed Phil to the back door and helped her push the steel frame they’d bent to secure the building out of the way.

She flipped on the backroom lights and headed for her office. He walked behind, doing his best not to watch the sway of her hips. It didn’t matter what she wore. Phil made anything look good.

He leaned against the doorway while she slid onto her leather desk chair and started rifling through her files. “Since you’ll be busy with the insurance company this morning, why don’t I take Kiki back to my place for the day?”

Phil glanced up with a wry smile on her face. “And how are you going to walk her?” He shrugged. “She can use newspapers on my patio.”

She laughed, a low melodious sound he remembered far too well. “Newspapers? Really, Mr. Computers-Are-The-Wave-Of-The-Future?”

He grinned back. “They come in handy. Like for when I need to baby-sit a Phoenician divine dog.”

Instead of laughing some more or shooting a quip, she frowned. Her finger flew over the folders in the drawer a second time. Then she rose and shuffled through an entire five-drawer cabinet.

Alex straightened. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not here.” Phil turned and started going through the plastic paperwork trays on her desk.

“Mrs. Madison’s file?”

“No! Your brains, cowboy!” She slammed down the files she held. Loose sheets flew into the air and fluttered to the carpet. “Beatrice’s file is gone.”

The overhead lights flickered.

“You need to calm down right now.”

If Phillippa were her cousin Medusa, he’d be stone right now from the look she gave him. But the lights steadied and brightened.

Tell her to take off her t-shirt, his second brain whispered.

Instead, Alex said, “But you have the main inventory that lists the items, right?”

“Yeah.” She swiveled around and hit the power switch on her computer. “I scanned in the paper work as well. And Duncan set up the backup program that dumps everything into an Augustine server.”

“You’re welcome,” he drawled.
She looked up at him. “What?”

“He made me set up your system because I let Tiffany drink too much soda pop one night when she was eight.”

Phil covered her mouth, but he could see the light dancing in her eyes. “That was twelve years ago.”

“Yeah, and my boss, being a stereotypical Scorpio, carries grudges for a lifetime. And since he’s a vampire…”

She gave up trying to hide her humor and laughed outright. “Considering I had to take a grumpy, sleep-deprived third grader to school the next day, you’re not getting any sympathy from me.”

As much as he wanted to stay with Phil, a familiar tightening of his skin told him it was time to go home. Dawn came too damn early in June. “You going to be okay here?”

That question earned him a reproving look. “I think I can manage.”

“Then I’ll go home and see what Tiffany’s come up with.” Except his feet didn’t want to take that first step out of Phil’s office.

She deliberately stared at her computer screen while she clicked on the necessary documents. “Alex, you’ve got forty-five minutes to beat the sun home. I really don’t want to explain to Caesar why he lost another enforcer.”

“Give me a call if something else happens.”

This time she turned to face him. “I will. Now, go.”

Alex pivoted on his boot heels and head out the back door. For only the second time in one hundred-twenty-five years, he regretted his Turn.

* * *
Phil made a couple of calls. The nymphs spread the message, and within an hour, all ten of them were at the store, shoveling debris and evaluating the damage to the merchandise. The only person not answering her phone was Jane. Both her home phone and her cell kept rolling over to voice mail.

Surprisingly, Sifuentes sent a deputy out with the official report and copies of the photos his team had taken. Both the insurance adjustor and her contractor arrived by nine a.m. Phil tried to stay out of the way as the two of them did their jobs. She gratefully accepted the large cup of coffee Melissa handed her.

“Should I try Jane again?” Worry lay in the nymph’s amber eyes.

Phil shook her head. “No, she was here late last night dealing with the police and this mess. She probably turned off her phones and forgot to set her alarm clock.” Except she couldn’t shake her own concern. One person had already died over a fake artifact.

Was the tumi a fake? Alex seemed sure there was more to the object than what the assayer reported.

“Humans,” Melissa murmured, disapproval in her tone. “They would be so much healthier if they simply followed Apollo’s chariot.”

The adjustor walked over to them, and the nymph darted away to distribute tea and juice to her compatriots. He rubbed the bald spot at the back of his head. “I’ve got good news and bad news, Ms. Mann.”

She gave him a rueful smile. “You’ll pay the claim, but you’re dropping my policy.”

He laid his clipboard on the solid mahogany counter, one of the few pieces in the store that was intact. “Your agent already spoke with you.”

She nodded.

“You’ve got to admit that two incidences of vandalism in less than six months is an issue. Especially when we’re dealing with some high dollar items.”

A sad laugh trilled in her throat. Maybe this was the Moirai’s hint for her to leave Los Angeles sooner rather than later. “I’m all too aware of the issue. I thought moving outside of the city proper would alleviate your company’s concerns.”

She scanned the room. In a corner, Melissa flirted with the contractor as she handed him a steaming cup. “And provide less of a target.”

The adjustor leaned against the counter. “These girls will be out of a job if you shut down your business, won’t they?”

“Yes.” The problem was more than the employment. It was giving the nymphs a sense of purpose in the twenty-first century, in a world that no longer believed in them, much less honored them. Like Duncan asking her to help raise Tiffany had given her a sense of purpose.

“Damn,” the adjustor muttered. “It’ll be next to impossible for them to find something in this economy. My son lost his job two years ago, and still can’t find anything above minimum wage. The bank foreclosed on the house just after my daughter-in-law had my grandson.” Determination filled the man’s face. “Let me talk to my regional director.” He held up a hand. “I can’t guarantee anything, Ms. Mann. If I get her to agree and there’s another claim…”

“I understand.” Phillippa stuck out her hand. “I’d appreciate whatever you can do.” She glanced over at the nymphs. “For their sakes.”

Once the contractor delivered his estimate and paperwork was signed, copied and traded between him, the adjustor and Phillippa, both men left. But not before the contractor promised to return at seven a.m. tomorrow with a team to install the new doors and windows.

All ten of the nymphs volunteered to come to the store at dawn to meet the contractor, though Melissa looked more peeved at the extra volunteers than excited. Phillippa distracted the potential nymph fight over the attention of mortal men by promising the girls they could decide on the new colors for the interior once they removed the last of the debris.

She handed the swatch book to Melissa. “Can you keep everyone on track? I’m going to run over to Jane’s to check on her.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Melissa saluted her. If it were anyone else, Phillippa would have smacked them for mocking her. From the nymph, the gesture was sincere.

The drive to Jane’s apartment drew Phil’s nerves taunt. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. This wasn’t like Jane. The girl was so damn efficient and punctual.

Phillippa parked her Mustang and jogged up the flight of stairs. She hammered on the door. No one answered. She scanned the area.

Jane didn’t live in the best of neighborhoods, but the people seemed to be good folks the couple of times Phillippa had visited here. A few children played in the pool under the watchful eye of two older women.

“Yo, gringa, whachoo want?” A middle-aged man approached along the open walkway. His mustache was thick and full, but carried the same salt-and-pepper as his hair. His light blue workshirt was embroidered with “P. Rodriguez, Manager.”

Phillippa switched to Spanish. “I’m Phillippa Mann, Jane Chevrette’s employer. She didn’t come to work today and isn’t answering her phone. I came to check on her.”

“Miss Jane?” Rodriguez shook his head. “Miss Jane hasn’t been around in two weeks.”

“What are you talking about?” It would be understandable if Jane had met somebody, but she hadn’t mentioned dating anyone.

“No one’s seen Miss Jane in a couple of weeks. In fact, the postman asked me yesterday if I had a forwarding address for her because her box was full.” He shrugged. “But she hasn’t turned in her notice and her rent’s paid through the month.”

The little worm of worry became a full-blown leviathan. Jane had been at the shop last night. She would have been the first one at the store this morning. “Would you please unlock her door for me?”

The manager gave her a measured look. “Maybe we should call the police.”

Phillippa smiled. “If she’s in there and okay, then you can blame everything on me. But if she’s sick…”

Rodriguez pulled the key ring from his belt. “You’re right. Miss Jane doesn’t cause any trouble.” He slid what looked like a master key into the lock and twisted.

The stench of rotten meat hit Phillippa as soon as Rodriguez popped open the door. She entered, the manager right behind her. “Jane?”

“Mother in heaven, what is that smell?” Rodriguez muttered.

Silence. Nothing was out of place in the tiny living room, but the odor. Phillippa arrowed for the kitchenette, the source of the Gaea-awful smell, and yanked open the refrigerator door.

Rodriguez whirled away at the sight that greeted them and heaved the contents of his stomach across the living room carpet.

“Oh, Jane,” Phillippa whispered. She closed the door, pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and punched a number she really shouldn’t have memorized.

Alex answered on the first ring. “What’s up, Phil?”

She swallowed the bile at the back of her throat. “I need a daytime enforcer at Jane’s apartment.” She could hear the scratch of a pencil on paper as she gave him the address. “And I need you to contact Sifuentes.”

“Sweet, Jesus,” he muttered. “Is Jane…?”

Phillippa’s fingers squeezed the case of her smart phone until the plastic squealed. “Somebody cut her up and shoved the parts into her refrigerator at least a week ago. Whoever was at my store last night was not Jane Chevrette.”