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.”
Monday, June 24, 2013
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Blood Sacrifice (Bloodlines Series #5) - Chapter 6
A profound apology to my readers! I've been so busy, trying to get this story finished that I forgot to post on Monday!
Phillippa rose from her chair and stepped over Kiki to look at the scanned form on Alex’s computer screen. Impossible. The paper Beatrice had given her couldn’t possibly be…
The computer screen flickered. One of the bulbs in the lamp hanging over the table popped.
“Phil, you blow up my computers and the wiring in the house, I swear I will shoot you through the heart with my crossbow.” Tiffany glared at her.
“Sorry, sweetie,” she murmured. She yanked the threads of her anger back under control before she read the form again. “Why would Beatrice counterfeit the customs paperwork for a fake? That makes absolutely no sense.”
Footsteps shuffled in the hallway. Phillippa looked up from the computer to find Tiffany’s husband, his hair ruffled and glasses askew.
“Honey, it’s two-thirty in the morning. Why is my alarm clock going off?” Max blinked rapidly under the bright kitchen lighting.
Tiffany winced. “Sorry about that.” She shot an evil look at Phillippa. “It won’t happen again. Why don’t you go back to bed?”
Max’s groggy brain finally seemed to register Phillippa and Alex’s presence. “What’s going on?” Alarm flashed across his face. “Sam hasn’t done something stupid again, has she?”
Phillippa crossed over to Max and laid a hand on his shoulder. “This has nothing to do with your sister. Tiffany’s helping us with some research.”
“Why?” Suspicion glinted behind the wire-rim glasses. He turned to Tiffany. “You’re supposed to be on maternity leave.” His head swiveled to face Alex. “She’s supposed to be on maternity leave.” Max twisted to face Phillippa. “Tiffany is supposed to be on maternity leave.”
“She is.” Phillippa squeezed his shoulder. “We won’t let anything happen to her and the baby.”
Max’s blue eyes narrowed. “You mean like at our wedding?”
“Which one?” Alex muttered. “Ouch!” He glared at Tiffany. “My feet are bare.”
Tiffany shook another pencil in his direction. “Don’t make me use this on you.”
Phillippa closed her eyes. Gaea help her, those two were worse than her sisters. She opened her eyes and met Max’s concerned look. “I swear all she is doing helping us with background research on a murder case.”
“Murder?” Max was decidedly awake now. “A supernatural?” Slippers slapped the linoleum as he crossed the kitchen and pulled the fourth chair closer to his wife’s.
“No,” Alex said. “A Normal, but it’s related to a break-in tonight at Phil’s shop.”
In the minute it took Tiffany to fill Max in on the situation, Phil returned to her former position at Alex’s shoulder.
Alex folded his arms over his chest. Sandalwood and his own distinctive evergreen scent teased her. He looked up at her, blue eyes glowing slightly. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one irritated by tonight’s puzzles.
“I’m beginning to think this tumi is not a fake. Did you pick up anything from it while it was in your store?”
She shook her head, damp hair heavy against her neck. “No.”
“No unusual energy? No magick?”
“No,” she repeated. “I…” She rifled her memory of the day she and Jane went to Beatrice’s house to review the items the widow wanted to sell. “Actually, I never touched it. I looked at it, but Jane handled it. In fact, Jane handled everything. Packing the merchandise. Logging it in. Unpacking.”
Phillippa leaned on Alex’s chair to read the customs declaration one more time. Her motion only drove his scent further into her brain, prompting scenarios of everything she’d planned to do to him when he came back to San Antonio all those decades ago.
Except he never returned.
“And you didn’t supervise?” he prompted.
She straightened abruptly. “This was Jane’s first estate sale. I wanted her to have the experience if she’s going to take over for me. The only thing I did was tell her to send the tumi to the assayer when she said she thought the metal was titanium.”
“But you never touched it?” Alex prompted.
Phillippa shook her head again.
Alex wiped a palm over his face. “If we didn’t have to meet Jorge and Siobhan soon, I’d say let’s question Jane a little more.”
Phillippa glared at him. “Are you accusing one of my employers of theft?”
“No, Phil, I’m not.” His voice sounded weary. “But she might have noticed something at the Madisons’ house or the assayer’s that was out of the normal. Maybe a customer at your store who acted or said something about the tumi that might give us a clue of what the hell is going on. We’ve got someone willing to kill for what’s supposed to be a fake Incan artifact.”
“You’re right.”
He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise let her acknowledgment pass. No pleased look. No teasing. Nothing emotional whatsoever. Something tugged at her that had nothing to do with her oath. Was he really over her?
She should be gratified that his infatuation was done. So why did it feel like someone had hit her in the gut?
Alex hit a few keystrokes, and a printer whirred to life in another room. “Get some sleep, Tiffany.”
“What about the rest of the research?” she countered.
“Work on it during the day, and e-mail it to me.”
Max looked from Tiffany to Alex and back. “You’re supposed to be on maternity leave.”
She fixed her husband with a nasty look. “Shut up, or this will be the only child you ever conceive.”
Kiki started barking from the tension in the kitchen.
Phillippa bit her tongue to keep from smiling. “She’s not going to be on street duty, Max.”
Tiffany glared at Phillippa. “That’s not your decision.”
“No, but if your uncle Duncan asks me, I will enforce his will. Understand me, little girl?”
A pout appeared on Tiffany’s elfin features, and she crossed her arms over her belly. “I thought Amazons didn’t do what men told them.”
For the first time in Tiffany’s short life, anger rose from deep in Phillippa. “You’re being a selfish brat. Duncan’s order has nothing to do with your competency. That baby is dependent on you. Honor the life you created.”
Tiffany’s jaw dropped. Crimson spread across her pale face. “Yes, ma’am.”
The men exchanged surprised looks at the girl’s capitulation, but thankfully, they kept their mouths shut.
“Jorge’s about to call. I’ll go get my shoes.” Phillippa pivoted and headed for the front porch.
Alex’s phone beeped behind her. She smiled to herself as Max marveled over her psychic abilities and Alex confirmed to Jorge they were on their way back to the Madison’s house.
* * *
Alex tried to keep his eyes on the road. Honestly, he did, but Phil’s breasts subtly swayed with the motion of the truck. Irritation jangled his nerves.
Irritation that Kiki was curled up on Phil’s lap instead of him. Irritation that the two of them were tagging along on this investigation. Irritation with his inability to control himself.
“You enjoy messing with people, don’t you?”
From the corner of his eye, he could see her turn toward him. Her rich chestnut hair had dried into a glorious mass of curls that framed her oval face. Over one hundred and twenty years later, he remembered how it looked spread out over her pillow.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“That thing with pretending to predict when a phone’s going to ring.” He shouldn’t be taking his pissy mood out on her. It wasn’t fair.
Like she hasn’t been taking hers out on you for the last century? a little voice said in the back of his mind.
“Is that what crawled up your ass tonight? That I know when a phone’s going to ring?”
“Answer my question.” He glanced at her. An odd look crossed her face. The oath. She was actually trying to fight the oath.
Finally, she muttered, “Yes.” She crossed her arms over those heavenly breasts. “But I didn’t make it to my fifty-third-hundredth birthday by not using every talent I have to my advantage.”
The cab remained silent for another mile before she said softly, “Aren’t even going to ask how I know?”
Alex spared another glance at Phil. Her lips were parted, anticipation on her beautiful face. Her expression only spiked his irritation. “I already know how.”
“Y-you—”
The moist sound of her tongue on her lips sent signals to his groin he should damn well be ignoring.
“How?” she whispered.
“Since you’ve got your granddaddy Zeus’s talent for throwing lightning bolts, I figured you can pick up other electrical signals as well. Like between a cell tower and a phone. I’ve just been trying to figure out the why-I-pretend-I’m-precognitive part. What does it have to do with survival?”
“Seriously? You don’t read any of the Greek classics?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
“Yes, I have. What’s that got to do—”
“Everything!”
The truck’s running lights brightened, then dimmed.
Phil stared out the window. Her chest heaved, which certainly did not help his libido. “Everything,” she whispered. “All of my sisters, every single one, died because some dickwad had to prove himself.”
With no siblings, Alex could hardly put himself in Phil’s position and claimed he understood. But something else made sense with her confession. “How’d you manage to erase yourself from history?”
Her head whipped back to face him. “What?”
“Look, I’m not disputing your view that guys like Heracles, Theseus and Achilles were assholes. Let’s face it—Homer and the other poets and historians don’t exactly paint these guys as Boy Scouts and they were on the heroes’ side. But you’re never mentioned in any legends or stories like your sisters. How’d you manage to disappear?” A quick look at Phil revealed her shocked expression.
“How-how did you know?” she choked out.
“Like I said, I read the classics.” He couldn’t help a smile. “Otrera, the daughter of Eurus the East Wind and the first queen of the Amazons, had a long-term relationship with Ares, the god of war. They had several children, all girls. Your sisters. But there’s no mention of a Phillippa as one of the daughters. So how’d you manage to disappear from all the stories?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” She stared out the passenger window again.
“Why wouldn’t I?” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Because I’m just a tiny name on a wall in Austin. Because there isn’t statues and coins and shit thousands of years after I supposedly died, like there is for Caesar or your sisters.”
Kiki crawled from Phil’s lap to rest her head on his thigh. He reached down with one hand and scratched behind her ears.
Phil turned to face him. “Name on a wall?”
He should’ve dropped the subject when she gave him the chance. Old bitterness welled. Not over his Turning. God knew that Duncan had saved his life in more ways than one.
It didn’t make the survivor’s guilt any less difficult to handle at times.
He kept his eyes on the traffic. “There’s a wall at the Texas Rangers Museum in Austin. It lists all the men who died in the line of duty.”
“Why would you even go?”
He could feel her watching him, and he shrugged. “Part of it was morbid curiosity.”
“And the other part?” Her voice was gentle as they turned down the Madisons’ street.
He didn’t want to answer, but if anyone would understand, it would be Phil. “I couldn’t remember the names of everyone in my old battalion anymore.”
* * *
Phillippa cracked the window for Kiki before she climbed from the truck cab. This time she made sure the door was securely shut.
With all the bickering between her and Alex, she’d forgotten how young he really was. What would he do when he woke up one night centuries from now and had trouble remembering his own name, much less his family.
The changing of identities, creating false histories, had become so ingrained she barely remembered her mother and sisters. Images of Hippolyta in the comic books seemed far more real than the eldest sister she’d loved and admired.
And then there was the matter of Father…
Shoving the thought aside, Phil stalked after Alex.
Jorge Sifuentes waited for them on the front step, clothing in his hands. The front door stood open, and the scent of wolf permeated the yard.
The detective nodded. “Siobhan decided to get started.”
Phil smirked. “Just like her father.”
Alex looked at her. “Behave.”
She opened her mouth for a snide remark, but the compulsion yanked on her jaw. Instead, she said, “Is it okay if we do another search through the house?”
Sifuentes shot her an odd look before he said, “Go ahead.”
Old blood and death filled her head when the three of them stepped inside the foyer.
“By the way,” Alex said. “We caught the demon inside Phil’s store a few hours ago.”
“And?” Sifuentes propped his hands on his hips, curiosity on his face.
A bitter laugh erupted from her throat. “It committed suicide rather than talk to us.”
The detective’s expression turned incredulous. “How the hell does a demon commit suicide?”
Alex grinned. “Apparently by touching a Maltese dog. Another interesting tidbit is that Dennis Madison brought the tumi into the U.S. two months ago. Three days before he died.”
Sifuentes’s head swiveled to stare at her. “You told me it was a fake.”
Phil folded her arms over her chest. Alex quickly found interest in a painting that decorated the stairwell. Maybe he wasn’t as over her as he pretended.
“Beatrice gave me fake a customs declaration, so I’m guessing the bill of sale is also a forgery. The demon was rummaging through the merchandise, probably looking for the tumi. I want to go through her paperwork.”
Jorge gestured toward the stairs. “Have at it.”
She jogged up the steps, Alex on her heels. It took them minutes to sort through the chaos of what had been Dennis and Beatrice Madison’s office.
“Notice anything strange?” she asked as they surveyed the neat piles.
“Yeah.” Alex wiped a hand over his face. “Anything regarding the tumi is missing.”
Phillippa propped her fists on her hips. “Well, a demon sure as Hades wouldn’t have bothered taking paperwork.”
A whisper of movement came from the hallway. Siobhan Lannigan Sifuentes appeared in the doorway. “My guess is it was the Normals.”
The Los Angeles pack’s beta was naked. A tiny thrill spiked in Phillippa that Alex didn’t seem remotely interested in the attractive redhead. Of course, his refusal to peruse her nude body might have more to do with the fact that she’d gut him in an instant if he showed the were any disrespect.
Phillippa tapped her finger on her cheek. “Could you tell who killed Beatrice?”
“My money’s on the Normals. Steel was used. Also, no ozone. The whole purpose of a sacrifice is to raise power.” Siobhan shrugged. “I’d double-check with someone from Silver Bear though if I were you. Demons aren’t my forté.”
Wonderful. The last thing she wanted was to involve the Los Angeles witch coven.
Sifuentes appeared behind his wife. “Thanks for dumping the problem back in my lap, honey.”
Siobhan grunted.
Phillippa looked at Alex. “If Normals killed Beatrice, then why cut out the heart? And why break into my shop?”
Alex stared back. His eyes brightened. Not a full-blown vamp-out, but enough to show he was disturbed. “The bigger question is why a demon is trying to recover a Incan artifact.”
“You don’t think it’s a fake?”
“Not anymore, darling.”
Phillippa rose from her chair and stepped over Kiki to look at the scanned form on Alex’s computer screen. Impossible. The paper Beatrice had given her couldn’t possibly be…
The computer screen flickered. One of the bulbs in the lamp hanging over the table popped.
“Phil, you blow up my computers and the wiring in the house, I swear I will shoot you through the heart with my crossbow.” Tiffany glared at her.
“Sorry, sweetie,” she murmured. She yanked the threads of her anger back under control before she read the form again. “Why would Beatrice counterfeit the customs paperwork for a fake? That makes absolutely no sense.”
Footsteps shuffled in the hallway. Phillippa looked up from the computer to find Tiffany’s husband, his hair ruffled and glasses askew.
“Honey, it’s two-thirty in the morning. Why is my alarm clock going off?” Max blinked rapidly under the bright kitchen lighting.
Tiffany winced. “Sorry about that.” She shot an evil look at Phillippa. “It won’t happen again. Why don’t you go back to bed?”
Max’s groggy brain finally seemed to register Phillippa and Alex’s presence. “What’s going on?” Alarm flashed across his face. “Sam hasn’t done something stupid again, has she?”
Phillippa crossed over to Max and laid a hand on his shoulder. “This has nothing to do with your sister. Tiffany’s helping us with some research.”
“Why?” Suspicion glinted behind the wire-rim glasses. He turned to Tiffany. “You’re supposed to be on maternity leave.” His head swiveled to face Alex. “She’s supposed to be on maternity leave.” Max twisted to face Phillippa. “Tiffany is supposed to be on maternity leave.”
“She is.” Phillippa squeezed his shoulder. “We won’t let anything happen to her and the baby.”
Max’s blue eyes narrowed. “You mean like at our wedding?”
“Which one?” Alex muttered. “Ouch!” He glared at Tiffany. “My feet are bare.”
Tiffany shook another pencil in his direction. “Don’t make me use this on you.”
Phillippa closed her eyes. Gaea help her, those two were worse than her sisters. She opened her eyes and met Max’s concerned look. “I swear all she is doing helping us with background research on a murder case.”
“Murder?” Max was decidedly awake now. “A supernatural?” Slippers slapped the linoleum as he crossed the kitchen and pulled the fourth chair closer to his wife’s.
“No,” Alex said. “A Normal, but it’s related to a break-in tonight at Phil’s shop.”
In the minute it took Tiffany to fill Max in on the situation, Phil returned to her former position at Alex’s shoulder.
Alex folded his arms over his chest. Sandalwood and his own distinctive evergreen scent teased her. He looked up at her, blue eyes glowing slightly. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one irritated by tonight’s puzzles.
“I’m beginning to think this tumi is not a fake. Did you pick up anything from it while it was in your store?”
She shook her head, damp hair heavy against her neck. “No.”
“No unusual energy? No magick?”
“No,” she repeated. “I…” She rifled her memory of the day she and Jane went to Beatrice’s house to review the items the widow wanted to sell. “Actually, I never touched it. I looked at it, but Jane handled it. In fact, Jane handled everything. Packing the merchandise. Logging it in. Unpacking.”
Phillippa leaned on Alex’s chair to read the customs declaration one more time. Her motion only drove his scent further into her brain, prompting scenarios of everything she’d planned to do to him when he came back to San Antonio all those decades ago.
Except he never returned.
“And you didn’t supervise?” he prompted.
She straightened abruptly. “This was Jane’s first estate sale. I wanted her to have the experience if she’s going to take over for me. The only thing I did was tell her to send the tumi to the assayer when she said she thought the metal was titanium.”
“But you never touched it?” Alex prompted.
Phillippa shook her head again.
Alex wiped a palm over his face. “If we didn’t have to meet Jorge and Siobhan soon, I’d say let’s question Jane a little more.”
Phillippa glared at him. “Are you accusing one of my employers of theft?”
“No, Phil, I’m not.” His voice sounded weary. “But she might have noticed something at the Madisons’ house or the assayer’s that was out of the normal. Maybe a customer at your store who acted or said something about the tumi that might give us a clue of what the hell is going on. We’ve got someone willing to kill for what’s supposed to be a fake Incan artifact.”
“You’re right.”
He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise let her acknowledgment pass. No pleased look. No teasing. Nothing emotional whatsoever. Something tugged at her that had nothing to do with her oath. Was he really over her?
She should be gratified that his infatuation was done. So why did it feel like someone had hit her in the gut?
Alex hit a few keystrokes, and a printer whirred to life in another room. “Get some sleep, Tiffany.”
“What about the rest of the research?” she countered.
“Work on it during the day, and e-mail it to me.”
Max looked from Tiffany to Alex and back. “You’re supposed to be on maternity leave.”
She fixed her husband with a nasty look. “Shut up, or this will be the only child you ever conceive.”
Kiki started barking from the tension in the kitchen.
Phillippa bit her tongue to keep from smiling. “She’s not going to be on street duty, Max.”
Tiffany glared at Phillippa. “That’s not your decision.”
“No, but if your uncle Duncan asks me, I will enforce his will. Understand me, little girl?”
A pout appeared on Tiffany’s elfin features, and she crossed her arms over her belly. “I thought Amazons didn’t do what men told them.”
For the first time in Tiffany’s short life, anger rose from deep in Phillippa. “You’re being a selfish brat. Duncan’s order has nothing to do with your competency. That baby is dependent on you. Honor the life you created.”
Tiffany’s jaw dropped. Crimson spread across her pale face. “Yes, ma’am.”
The men exchanged surprised looks at the girl’s capitulation, but thankfully, they kept their mouths shut.
“Jorge’s about to call. I’ll go get my shoes.” Phillippa pivoted and headed for the front porch.
Alex’s phone beeped behind her. She smiled to herself as Max marveled over her psychic abilities and Alex confirmed to Jorge they were on their way back to the Madison’s house.
* * *
Alex tried to keep his eyes on the road. Honestly, he did, but Phil’s breasts subtly swayed with the motion of the truck. Irritation jangled his nerves.
Irritation that Kiki was curled up on Phil’s lap instead of him. Irritation that the two of them were tagging along on this investigation. Irritation with his inability to control himself.
“You enjoy messing with people, don’t you?”
From the corner of his eye, he could see her turn toward him. Her rich chestnut hair had dried into a glorious mass of curls that framed her oval face. Over one hundred and twenty years later, he remembered how it looked spread out over her pillow.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“That thing with pretending to predict when a phone’s going to ring.” He shouldn’t be taking his pissy mood out on her. It wasn’t fair.
Like she hasn’t been taking hers out on you for the last century? a little voice said in the back of his mind.
“Is that what crawled up your ass tonight? That I know when a phone’s going to ring?”
“Answer my question.” He glanced at her. An odd look crossed her face. The oath. She was actually trying to fight the oath.
Finally, she muttered, “Yes.” She crossed her arms over those heavenly breasts. “But I didn’t make it to my fifty-third-hundredth birthday by not using every talent I have to my advantage.”
The cab remained silent for another mile before she said softly, “Aren’t even going to ask how I know?”
Alex spared another glance at Phil. Her lips were parted, anticipation on her beautiful face. Her expression only spiked his irritation. “I already know how.”
“Y-you—”
The moist sound of her tongue on her lips sent signals to his groin he should damn well be ignoring.
“How?” she whispered.
“Since you’ve got your granddaddy Zeus’s talent for throwing lightning bolts, I figured you can pick up other electrical signals as well. Like between a cell tower and a phone. I’ve just been trying to figure out the why-I-pretend-I’m-precognitive part. What does it have to do with survival?”
“Seriously? You don’t read any of the Greek classics?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
“Yes, I have. What’s that got to do—”
“Everything!”
The truck’s running lights brightened, then dimmed.
Phil stared out the window. Her chest heaved, which certainly did not help his libido. “Everything,” she whispered. “All of my sisters, every single one, died because some dickwad had to prove himself.”
With no siblings, Alex could hardly put himself in Phil’s position and claimed he understood. But something else made sense with her confession. “How’d you manage to erase yourself from history?”
Her head whipped back to face him. “What?”
“Look, I’m not disputing your view that guys like Heracles, Theseus and Achilles were assholes. Let’s face it—Homer and the other poets and historians don’t exactly paint these guys as Boy Scouts and they were on the heroes’ side. But you’re never mentioned in any legends or stories like your sisters. How’d you manage to disappear?” A quick look at Phil revealed her shocked expression.
“How-how did you know?” she choked out.
“Like I said, I read the classics.” He couldn’t help a smile. “Otrera, the daughter of Eurus the East Wind and the first queen of the Amazons, had a long-term relationship with Ares, the god of war. They had several children, all girls. Your sisters. But there’s no mention of a Phillippa as one of the daughters. So how’d you manage to disappear from all the stories?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” She stared out the passenger window again.
“Why wouldn’t I?” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Because I’m just a tiny name on a wall in Austin. Because there isn’t statues and coins and shit thousands of years after I supposedly died, like there is for Caesar or your sisters.”
Kiki crawled from Phil’s lap to rest her head on his thigh. He reached down with one hand and scratched behind her ears.
Phil turned to face him. “Name on a wall?”
He should’ve dropped the subject when she gave him the chance. Old bitterness welled. Not over his Turning. God knew that Duncan had saved his life in more ways than one.
It didn’t make the survivor’s guilt any less difficult to handle at times.
He kept his eyes on the traffic. “There’s a wall at the Texas Rangers Museum in Austin. It lists all the men who died in the line of duty.”
“Why would you even go?”
He could feel her watching him, and he shrugged. “Part of it was morbid curiosity.”
“And the other part?” Her voice was gentle as they turned down the Madisons’ street.
He didn’t want to answer, but if anyone would understand, it would be Phil. “I couldn’t remember the names of everyone in my old battalion anymore.”
* * *
Phillippa cracked the window for Kiki before she climbed from the truck cab. This time she made sure the door was securely shut.
With all the bickering between her and Alex, she’d forgotten how young he really was. What would he do when he woke up one night centuries from now and had trouble remembering his own name, much less his family.
The changing of identities, creating false histories, had become so ingrained she barely remembered her mother and sisters. Images of Hippolyta in the comic books seemed far more real than the eldest sister she’d loved and admired.
And then there was the matter of Father…
Shoving the thought aside, Phil stalked after Alex.
Jorge Sifuentes waited for them on the front step, clothing in his hands. The front door stood open, and the scent of wolf permeated the yard.
The detective nodded. “Siobhan decided to get started.”
Phil smirked. “Just like her father.”
Alex looked at her. “Behave.”
She opened her mouth for a snide remark, but the compulsion yanked on her jaw. Instead, she said, “Is it okay if we do another search through the house?”
Sifuentes shot her an odd look before he said, “Go ahead.”
Old blood and death filled her head when the three of them stepped inside the foyer.
“By the way,” Alex said. “We caught the demon inside Phil’s store a few hours ago.”
“And?” Sifuentes propped his hands on his hips, curiosity on his face.
A bitter laugh erupted from her throat. “It committed suicide rather than talk to us.”
The detective’s expression turned incredulous. “How the hell does a demon commit suicide?”
Alex grinned. “Apparently by touching a Maltese dog. Another interesting tidbit is that Dennis Madison brought the tumi into the U.S. two months ago. Three days before he died.”
Sifuentes’s head swiveled to stare at her. “You told me it was a fake.”
Phil folded her arms over her chest. Alex quickly found interest in a painting that decorated the stairwell. Maybe he wasn’t as over her as he pretended.
“Beatrice gave me fake a customs declaration, so I’m guessing the bill of sale is also a forgery. The demon was rummaging through the merchandise, probably looking for the tumi. I want to go through her paperwork.”
Jorge gestured toward the stairs. “Have at it.”
She jogged up the steps, Alex on her heels. It took them minutes to sort through the chaos of what had been Dennis and Beatrice Madison’s office.
“Notice anything strange?” she asked as they surveyed the neat piles.
“Yeah.” Alex wiped a hand over his face. “Anything regarding the tumi is missing.”
Phillippa propped her fists on her hips. “Well, a demon sure as Hades wouldn’t have bothered taking paperwork.”
A whisper of movement came from the hallway. Siobhan Lannigan Sifuentes appeared in the doorway. “My guess is it was the Normals.”
The Los Angeles pack’s beta was naked. A tiny thrill spiked in Phillippa that Alex didn’t seem remotely interested in the attractive redhead. Of course, his refusal to peruse her nude body might have more to do with the fact that she’d gut him in an instant if he showed the were any disrespect.
Phillippa tapped her finger on her cheek. “Could you tell who killed Beatrice?”
“My money’s on the Normals. Steel was used. Also, no ozone. The whole purpose of a sacrifice is to raise power.” Siobhan shrugged. “I’d double-check with someone from Silver Bear though if I were you. Demons aren’t my forté.”
Wonderful. The last thing she wanted was to involve the Los Angeles witch coven.
Sifuentes appeared behind his wife. “Thanks for dumping the problem back in my lap, honey.”
Siobhan grunted.
Phillippa looked at Alex. “If Normals killed Beatrice, then why cut out the heart? And why break into my shop?”
Alex stared back. His eyes brightened. Not a full-blown vamp-out, but enough to show he was disturbed. “The bigger question is why a demon is trying to recover a Incan artifact.”
“You don’t think it’s a fake?”
“Not anymore, darling.”
Monday, May 27, 2013
Blood Sacrifice (Bloodlines #5) - Chapter 5
Phillippa tucked Alex’s spare gun in her jeans before she snatched up Kiki. Thick gray ash covered her shorn coat. The dog sneezed twice and squirmed as Phillippa checked every inch of the Maltese. Not so much as a scratch.
“Is she okay?” Alex asked. He brushed ash off his shoulders and jeans.
Phillippa nodded. She set down Kiki, who shook her little body with fervor, Another cloud rose into the air and set both Phillippa and Alex coughing and sneezing.
“What the hell was that thing?” Alex asked once he wiped the pink-tinged tears from his eyes.
“A demon,” she answered. “The same demon that was in Beatrice’s house.” A shudder rippled through Phillippa. “The one that killed her.”
“Wait a minute.” Alex laid a hand on her shoulder. “Think about this. It was in your store, looking for something. Probably your missing tumi.”
Red-hot anger settled in her bones, and she shrug off his touch. “After it tortured and murdered Beatrice to find out where it was.”
“Then why didn’t Kiki destroy it while it was at Madison’s house? The dog’s been running loose inside for the last few of days, remember?” Alex’s fingers ruffled through his thick, blond hair to shake out the ash.
She raked her fingers through his long hair as he slowly entered…
Phillippa crossed her arms and pinched the tender underskin to interrupt the memory. It irked her that she still thought about their night together a century after the fact. It irked her even more to admit he may be right about the demon. She looked down at Kiki, who sat primly next to her.
Alex cocked his head. “Speaking of which, exactly how does a Maltese blow up a demon?”
“They’re divine,” Phillippa said.
“Come again?” Alex shot her a look that clearly said she was crazy.
She smirked. “That’s the problem with men. Short–term memories.”
Alex sighed. “Phillippa, tell me what you know about Maltese dogs.”
The compulsion tugged along her nerves. What in Hades’s name had possessed her to swear an oath of obedience to Alexander Stanton? Much less on the River Styx?
Because you wanted revenge to Beatrice’s death, you stupid bitch.
“When the Phoenician goddess Astarte married the Egyptian god Set, the sky god Haddad created the original pair of Maltese from two small white clouds. They were her companions while she was away from the Phoenician pantheon.”
Alex looked at the tiny canine. “Might be worth getting one myself. She came in handy in a fight.”
The image of Stanton with a fluff-mop of a dog was too much. Phillippa roared hysterically. Alex glared at her while she leaned against the dumpster to catch her breath.
“If you’re done laughing at my expense—” His phone beeped.
With a final dirty look, he pulled out his phone and thumbed the ‘Answer’ icon. “What have you got for me, Tiffany?”
He was silent for a second, then he said, “She’s right here. Let me put you on speaker.”
“Like I told Alex, I pulled Beatrice Madison’s home phone records first.” Tiffany’s voice had a tinny quality coming through the phone. “The two-day thing stuck in my head. There’s a call from her house to Seven Wonders at one-twenty-seven p.m. on Saturday. It lasted for five minutes and thirty-three seconds.”
Phillippa frowned. “I wasn’t here.”
“Yeah, I kno-o-ow. You were at lunch with me and Bebe.” Tiffany’s ‘duh’ wasn’t implied. It was forcefully clubbed over Phillippa’s head. “What did the staff say when you got back?”
Concern wiggled up her spine. Beatrice’s call could have been something simple. Checking if any sales of her consignment had been made. Or finding something else she wanted to sell.
Except with everything between the break-in and the demon, Phillippa wasn’t about to assume anything anymore. “No one said anything to me. Let me check into it.”
“In the meantime, can we use your shower?” Alex asked.
“Sure,” Tiffany said. “I should have more for you by the time you get here.”
When he ended the call, Phillippa asked, “Why Tiffany’s?”
“Tarzana is closer to the Madison house than either of our places.” He scratched his scalp. “And frankly, that demon dust is making me itch.”
* * *
Despite Tiffany and Max’s sprawling three-bedroom ranch, Alex was very aware when Phillippa stepped out of the bathroom on the opposite side of the house. The scent of sea and grass and wind filled the air.
Tiffany looked up from her notebook computer and rolled her eyes. “You really need to get laid.”
“Seriously?” Irritation made him itch almost as much as the demon ash had. He leaned back in his chair. “This coming from the knocked-up nineteen-year-old?”
She bounced a yellow number two pencil off his head. “I’m twenty.”
“You weren’t when you got pregnant.”
She snorted. “It’s not my fault the condom broke. Besides, you don’t have to worry about getting someone pregnant.”
No, just infecting them with a deadly disease. He tried to ignore Tiffany and typed another search criteria into her old laptop. He would have preferred his state-of-the-art desktop, but beggars, blah, blah, blah…
“What about Rhoda, the Karnak casino manager?”
Nope, the kid definitely wasn’t going to drop the subject. And it wasn’t like Rhoda hadn’t made her interest known over the last fifty years. The problem quite simply was the lady vamp wasn’t Phil.
He blew out an exasperated breath. “Just because you got hitched, does not mean everyone else around you has to get married or otherwise coupled.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m just tired of you mooning over Phil. And I’ve only had to deal with it for the last twenty years. I can only imagine what the rest of the coven thinks.”
“I am not mooning,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
“Ri-i-ight.” She stood and stretched. On her petite frame, her belly already bulged even though she was barely half-way through her term.
An image of Phil, heavy with his child, rose in his mind. He brutally shoved it away. As a demi-goddess, she may be immune to the V-virus, but the disease still left him sterile.
“Alex?”
He shook his head to clear his mind. “What?”
A smirk twisted Tiffany’s lips, one that said she knew exactly where his thoughts were without any telepathy. “I said, do want some more blood or coffee?”
“Coffee, please.” He pushed the super-size mug, with the word “Bazinga!” stenciled in bright primary colors, across the table.
A whine came from the floor, and a dainty paw brushed his bare big toe.
Alex reached down and picked up Kiki. The dog was slightly damp from her own bath. She licked his nose and whined again.
“Tiffany, you got any meat?”
She waddled to the table and set down his coffee. “I’ve got some leftover roast beef.”
“Can we have a few small chunks?” he asked. Kiki panted and gave Tiffany a doggie smile for good measure.
She laughed. “I don’t need both of you making puppy dog eyes at me. She can have some.”
Kiki jumped from his lap and raced for the refrigerator.
Tiffany crossed the kitchen at a more sedate pace and pulled out a large baking dish. She brought it back to the table along with a knife. Once she settled back in her chair, she sliced off teeny bits of roast. Somehow she managed to feed the Maltese with one hand and type with the other.
A few minutes later, she said, “Bingo.”
Alex looked up from his own search through the Customs database. “Whatcha got?”
Tiffany’s eyes darted back and forth as she read her screen. “Dennis Madison’s SUV blew a tire on the freeway. He lost control of the vehicle, slammed into the concrete barrier and flipped. He died at the scene. Witnesses reported that he and another vehicle, a black Suburban, seemed to be racing him, but CHP never found the other driver. Apparently, the license plate was obscured by dirt.”
“What time?”
“The accident was reported to 9-1-1 at three-oh-two a.m.”
It could have been an accident. Or maybe was someone chasing Dennis Madison? If so, why?
Tiffany shook her head. “Reconstruction found a puncture in the tire that blew. No definitive cause though.”
Alex’s finger tapped a restless rhythm on the tabletop. “Could have been an accident. Picked up a nail.”
“Or someone in the other vehicle could have tossed a spike.”
“Or shot out the tire,” he added.
Alex and Tiffany stared at each other over the screens of their respective computers.
“I don’t believe on coincidences,” he said.
“Highly overrated,” she added.
Phil sauntered into the kitchen. While most of the Augustine enforcers kept extra clothing at each other’s residences for emergencies, she had to borrow a t-shirt and a pair of knit athletic shorts from Tiffany’s husband Max.
Her perfectly shaped breasts stretched the cotton shirt and made it definitely clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The curves of her hips pulled the seams of shorts taut.
Alex quickly sat straight. His cock showed its enthusiasm for Phil’s display a little too much. Would she take off her clothes if he ordered her to? Did her oath stretch that far?
Stanton, you are one sick bastard. Maybe he needed another shower. A very cold one. He took a gulp of coffee instead.
Phil sat on the chair between them and reached for the knife. “I spoke with everyone that worked in the store on Saturday. No one talked to Beatrice on the phone, and she didn’t come into the store while I was at lunch.”
Alex watched her hand a pebble-sized morsel of beef to Kiki. “How can you be sure they were telling you the truth?”
Phil ignored his gaze while she sliced off a larger hunk of meat. “Because everyone who works there is a nymph except Jane. And even a Normal isn’t stupid enough to lie to me when she knows what I am.” She popped the beef into her mouth.
“Why did you tell her?”
She chewed on the beef for a full minute before she swallowed. “Because I’m looking for someone to take over the business.”
“Why?” he pressed.
Another long pause as she fed Kiki and sliced herself more meat. “Because this is the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place. I’m getting restless.”
Tiffany stared at Phil, her dark eyes wide with pain. “You stayed because of me, didn’t you?”
Wetness shimmered in Phil’s blue-green eyes, and she lowered them. “I’m sorry, sweetie. This isn’t how I meant to tell you. I’m staying until the baby is born.” She laid a hand over Tiffany’s. “And I’ll keep in touch.”
A rock settled in the pit of Alex’s stomach. Phil was leaving. Anything he said right now would only drive her faster and further away from Los Angeles.
He stared at the computer screen. It took a minute for him to realize he was looking at the information he’d been searching for the last hour.
“Phil, when did Mrs. Madison say her husband bought the fake tumi into the country?”
She handed another bite to Kiki. “The sale paperwork she gave me was dated three years ago. Why?”
“Because according to this customs declaration, Dennis Madison brought a ceramic and titanium replica into the United States three days before he died.”
“Is she okay?” Alex asked. He brushed ash off his shoulders and jeans.
Phillippa nodded. She set down Kiki, who shook her little body with fervor, Another cloud rose into the air and set both Phillippa and Alex coughing and sneezing.
“What the hell was that thing?” Alex asked once he wiped the pink-tinged tears from his eyes.
“A demon,” she answered. “The same demon that was in Beatrice’s house.” A shudder rippled through Phillippa. “The one that killed her.”
“Wait a minute.” Alex laid a hand on her shoulder. “Think about this. It was in your store, looking for something. Probably your missing tumi.”
Red-hot anger settled in her bones, and she shrug off his touch. “After it tortured and murdered Beatrice to find out where it was.”
“Then why didn’t Kiki destroy it while it was at Madison’s house? The dog’s been running loose inside for the last few of days, remember?” Alex’s fingers ruffled through his thick, blond hair to shake out the ash.
She raked her fingers through his long hair as he slowly entered…
Phillippa crossed her arms and pinched the tender underskin to interrupt the memory. It irked her that she still thought about their night together a century after the fact. It irked her even more to admit he may be right about the demon. She looked down at Kiki, who sat primly next to her.
Alex cocked his head. “Speaking of which, exactly how does a Maltese blow up a demon?”
“They’re divine,” Phillippa said.
“Come again?” Alex shot her a look that clearly said she was crazy.
She smirked. “That’s the problem with men. Short–term memories.”
Alex sighed. “Phillippa, tell me what you know about Maltese dogs.”
The compulsion tugged along her nerves. What in Hades’s name had possessed her to swear an oath of obedience to Alexander Stanton? Much less on the River Styx?
Because you wanted revenge to Beatrice’s death, you stupid bitch.
“When the Phoenician goddess Astarte married the Egyptian god Set, the sky god Haddad created the original pair of Maltese from two small white clouds. They were her companions while she was away from the Phoenician pantheon.”
Alex looked at the tiny canine. “Might be worth getting one myself. She came in handy in a fight.”
The image of Stanton with a fluff-mop of a dog was too much. Phillippa roared hysterically. Alex glared at her while she leaned against the dumpster to catch her breath.
“If you’re done laughing at my expense—” His phone beeped.
With a final dirty look, he pulled out his phone and thumbed the ‘Answer’ icon. “What have you got for me, Tiffany?”
He was silent for a second, then he said, “She’s right here. Let me put you on speaker.”
“Like I told Alex, I pulled Beatrice Madison’s home phone records first.” Tiffany’s voice had a tinny quality coming through the phone. “The two-day thing stuck in my head. There’s a call from her house to Seven Wonders at one-twenty-seven p.m. on Saturday. It lasted for five minutes and thirty-three seconds.”
Phillippa frowned. “I wasn’t here.”
“Yeah, I kno-o-ow. You were at lunch with me and Bebe.” Tiffany’s ‘duh’ wasn’t implied. It was forcefully clubbed over Phillippa’s head. “What did the staff say when you got back?”
Concern wiggled up her spine. Beatrice’s call could have been something simple. Checking if any sales of her consignment had been made. Or finding something else she wanted to sell.
Except with everything between the break-in and the demon, Phillippa wasn’t about to assume anything anymore. “No one said anything to me. Let me check into it.”
“In the meantime, can we use your shower?” Alex asked.
“Sure,” Tiffany said. “I should have more for you by the time you get here.”
When he ended the call, Phillippa asked, “Why Tiffany’s?”
“Tarzana is closer to the Madison house than either of our places.” He scratched his scalp. “And frankly, that demon dust is making me itch.”
* * *
Despite Tiffany and Max’s sprawling three-bedroom ranch, Alex was very aware when Phillippa stepped out of the bathroom on the opposite side of the house. The scent of sea and grass and wind filled the air.
Tiffany looked up from her notebook computer and rolled her eyes. “You really need to get laid.”
“Seriously?” Irritation made him itch almost as much as the demon ash had. He leaned back in his chair. “This coming from the knocked-up nineteen-year-old?”
She bounced a yellow number two pencil off his head. “I’m twenty.”
“You weren’t when you got pregnant.”
She snorted. “It’s not my fault the condom broke. Besides, you don’t have to worry about getting someone pregnant.”
No, just infecting them with a deadly disease. He tried to ignore Tiffany and typed another search criteria into her old laptop. He would have preferred his state-of-the-art desktop, but beggars, blah, blah, blah…
“What about Rhoda, the Karnak casino manager?”
Nope, the kid definitely wasn’t going to drop the subject. And it wasn’t like Rhoda hadn’t made her interest known over the last fifty years. The problem quite simply was the lady vamp wasn’t Phil.
He blew out an exasperated breath. “Just because you got hitched, does not mean everyone else around you has to get married or otherwise coupled.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m just tired of you mooning over Phil. And I’ve only had to deal with it for the last twenty years. I can only imagine what the rest of the coven thinks.”
“I am not mooning,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
“Ri-i-ight.” She stood and stretched. On her petite frame, her belly already bulged even though she was barely half-way through her term.
An image of Phil, heavy with his child, rose in his mind. He brutally shoved it away. As a demi-goddess, she may be immune to the V-virus, but the disease still left him sterile.
“Alex?”
He shook his head to clear his mind. “What?”
A smirk twisted Tiffany’s lips, one that said she knew exactly where his thoughts were without any telepathy. “I said, do want some more blood or coffee?”
“Coffee, please.” He pushed the super-size mug, with the word “Bazinga!” stenciled in bright primary colors, across the table.
A whine came from the floor, and a dainty paw brushed his bare big toe.
Alex reached down and picked up Kiki. The dog was slightly damp from her own bath. She licked his nose and whined again.
“Tiffany, you got any meat?”
She waddled to the table and set down his coffee. “I’ve got some leftover roast beef.”
“Can we have a few small chunks?” he asked. Kiki panted and gave Tiffany a doggie smile for good measure.
She laughed. “I don’t need both of you making puppy dog eyes at me. She can have some.”
Kiki jumped from his lap and raced for the refrigerator.
Tiffany crossed the kitchen at a more sedate pace and pulled out a large baking dish. She brought it back to the table along with a knife. Once she settled back in her chair, she sliced off teeny bits of roast. Somehow she managed to feed the Maltese with one hand and type with the other.
A few minutes later, she said, “Bingo.”
Alex looked up from his own search through the Customs database. “Whatcha got?”
Tiffany’s eyes darted back and forth as she read her screen. “Dennis Madison’s SUV blew a tire on the freeway. He lost control of the vehicle, slammed into the concrete barrier and flipped. He died at the scene. Witnesses reported that he and another vehicle, a black Suburban, seemed to be racing him, but CHP never found the other driver. Apparently, the license plate was obscured by dirt.”
“What time?”
“The accident was reported to 9-1-1 at three-oh-two a.m.”
It could have been an accident. Or maybe was someone chasing Dennis Madison? If so, why?
Tiffany shook her head. “Reconstruction found a puncture in the tire that blew. No definitive cause though.”
Alex’s finger tapped a restless rhythm on the tabletop. “Could have been an accident. Picked up a nail.”
“Or someone in the other vehicle could have tossed a spike.”
“Or shot out the tire,” he added.
Alex and Tiffany stared at each other over the screens of their respective computers.
“I don’t believe on coincidences,” he said.
“Highly overrated,” she added.
Phil sauntered into the kitchen. While most of the Augustine enforcers kept extra clothing at each other’s residences for emergencies, she had to borrow a t-shirt and a pair of knit athletic shorts from Tiffany’s husband Max.
Her perfectly shaped breasts stretched the cotton shirt and made it definitely clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The curves of her hips pulled the seams of shorts taut.
Alex quickly sat straight. His cock showed its enthusiasm for Phil’s display a little too much. Would she take off her clothes if he ordered her to? Did her oath stretch that far?
Stanton, you are one sick bastard. Maybe he needed another shower. A very cold one. He took a gulp of coffee instead.
Phil sat on the chair between them and reached for the knife. “I spoke with everyone that worked in the store on Saturday. No one talked to Beatrice on the phone, and she didn’t come into the store while I was at lunch.”
Alex watched her hand a pebble-sized morsel of beef to Kiki. “How can you be sure they were telling you the truth?”
Phil ignored his gaze while she sliced off a larger hunk of meat. “Because everyone who works there is a nymph except Jane. And even a Normal isn’t stupid enough to lie to me when she knows what I am.” She popped the beef into her mouth.
“Why did you tell her?”
She chewed on the beef for a full minute before she swallowed. “Because I’m looking for someone to take over the business.”
“Why?” he pressed.
Another long pause as she fed Kiki and sliced herself more meat. “Because this is the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place. I’m getting restless.”
Tiffany stared at Phil, her dark eyes wide with pain. “You stayed because of me, didn’t you?”
Wetness shimmered in Phil’s blue-green eyes, and she lowered them. “I’m sorry, sweetie. This isn’t how I meant to tell you. I’m staying until the baby is born.” She laid a hand over Tiffany’s. “And I’ll keep in touch.”
A rock settled in the pit of Alex’s stomach. Phil was leaving. Anything he said right now would only drive her faster and further away from Los Angeles.
He stared at the computer screen. It took a minute for him to realize he was looking at the information he’d been searching for the last hour.
“Phil, when did Mrs. Madison say her husband bought the fake tumi into the country?”
She handed another bite to Kiki. “The sale paperwork she gave me was dated three years ago. Why?”
“Because according to this customs declaration, Dennis Madison brought a ceramic and titanium replica into the United States three days before he died.”
Monday, May 13, 2013
Blood Sacrifice (Bloodlines #5) - Chapter 4
When Alex pulled into the parking lot for Phil’s store, the front windows were boarded up and Jane’s little Paseo was gone. He popped open the driver’s door as Phil climbed out. “Why don’t I follow you back to your condo? We can take my truck back to Madison’s house—”
Crash!
He whirled toward the store and drew his gun at the same time. His mind extended, identifying everything in the surrounding area. Phil, Kiki, drivers in the street, a Normal next-door working late in his office.
There was something inside Phil’s store he didn’t recognize. Something that didn’t feel remotely human-related or even fae.
Alex glanced at Phil. She set Kiki on the seat with a whispered, “Stay.” For the second time that night, she reached beneath the passenger chair for his spare gun. With the front of the store boarded, there was only one way in or out of the building.
Another bang came from inside. Alex motioned for her to follow him. He eased around the corner of the stucco exterior.
He tried to quell his surprise that she obeyed. The idea of her swearing on the Styx had been grabbing at straws on his part. Of course, she could simply consider him cannon fodder.
The back door stood open, the steel frame gouged in order to pry the two deadbolts free. No light were on inside. More clattering confirmed that whatever was inside the store was near the smashed front doors.
Alex leaned toward Phil. Communication would be so much easier with telepathy, but if she was honoring her promise, the least he could do was respect her space. “Where’s the switch for showroom?”
“On the inside wall to the right at the entrance.”
He crept through the storage and office area. Whoever was in the shop muttered to himself. An odd sing-song language like nothing Alex had heard before.
Clang!
He motioned to Phil, and with the palm of her hand, she flipped the row of switches. Light flooded the room.
Jane and the contractor had obviously cleaned up as best as they could. Merchandise had been neatly stacked on one side of the room. Debris had been swept to the other side.
A creature the size of a large chimpanzee or a small gorilla, Alex couldn’t decide, sat near the piled merchandise. It resembled a taxidermy project of a capuchin monkey, with orange LED lights instead of glass eyeballs, that had been partially devoured by a swarm of moths. And its scent made the zombies that had attacked during Tiffany’s wedding smell like the finest French perfume.
What was equally obvious was that it had been rummaging through the antique pieces and tossing them aside.
“Demon!” At Phil’s shout, she fired. One of the LED eyes disintegrated into a mass of orange goo.
The thing shrieked. It jumped straight into the air, claws scrabbling for purchase on the acoustic tile ceiling.
The same talons that had cut through the steel back door shredded the tiles as well as the aluminum framework. Foam and fiber floating through the air. Metal ricocheted off the walls before hitting the floor in rapid-fire pings. For a split second, the demon imitated a hellish version of Wile E. Coyote running in mid-air. Gravity had other ideas, and the creature crashed to the floor.
For something that looked like a giant dead monkey, it was fast. It leapt, and Alex ducked and rolled to avoid its claws. No doubt it could take off his head with one swipe.
It headed straight for Phil and knocked the semi-automatic from her grip. Alex raised his own gun and fired.
The thing shrieked again when part of its head disintegrated. It shoved Phil into the wall before it turned and glared at Alex with its one good eye. Before he could squeeze the trigger again, it dived through the doorway to the back room.
Alex jumped to his feet and ran after it, Phil hot on his heels.
A series of sharp high-pitched yips preceded another shriek from the creature. Alex raced out the back door to find the thing perched on top of the dumpster. It cringed while Kiki danced around the base, barking for all she was worth.
What the hell? The creature tore through a vampire and a demi-goddess like they were nothing, and it was frightened of a shaved Maltese?
From the ashy scent penetrating the thing’s body odor, there was no doubt. It was scared shitless of Kiki. More of its strange, chittering language issued from its mouth.
It looked at Alex and Phil approaching and back down at the tiny white dog. Resignation appeared on its mottled face. It reached for Kiki.
“No!” Phil’s scream was telepathic as well as auditory.
Horror seized Alex’s heart. He brought his gun up and squeezed the trigger the same moment the demon touched the hyper canine.
The monkey demon exploded into a cloud of ash before the silver bullet hit it.
Crash!
He whirled toward the store and drew his gun at the same time. His mind extended, identifying everything in the surrounding area. Phil, Kiki, drivers in the street, a Normal next-door working late in his office.
There was something inside Phil’s store he didn’t recognize. Something that didn’t feel remotely human-related or even fae.
Alex glanced at Phil. She set Kiki on the seat with a whispered, “Stay.” For the second time that night, she reached beneath the passenger chair for his spare gun. With the front of the store boarded, there was only one way in or out of the building.
Another bang came from inside. Alex motioned for her to follow him. He eased around the corner of the stucco exterior.
He tried to quell his surprise that she obeyed. The idea of her swearing on the Styx had been grabbing at straws on his part. Of course, she could simply consider him cannon fodder.
The back door stood open, the steel frame gouged in order to pry the two deadbolts free. No light were on inside. More clattering confirmed that whatever was inside the store was near the smashed front doors.
Alex leaned toward Phil. Communication would be so much easier with telepathy, but if she was honoring her promise, the least he could do was respect her space. “Where’s the switch for showroom?”
“On the inside wall to the right at the entrance.”
He crept through the storage and office area. Whoever was in the shop muttered to himself. An odd sing-song language like nothing Alex had heard before.
Clang!
He motioned to Phil, and with the palm of her hand, she flipped the row of switches. Light flooded the room.
Jane and the contractor had obviously cleaned up as best as they could. Merchandise had been neatly stacked on one side of the room. Debris had been swept to the other side.
A creature the size of a large chimpanzee or a small gorilla, Alex couldn’t decide, sat near the piled merchandise. It resembled a taxidermy project of a capuchin monkey, with orange LED lights instead of glass eyeballs, that had been partially devoured by a swarm of moths. And its scent made the zombies that had attacked during Tiffany’s wedding smell like the finest French perfume.
What was equally obvious was that it had been rummaging through the antique pieces and tossing them aside.
“Demon!” At Phil’s shout, she fired. One of the LED eyes disintegrated into a mass of orange goo.
The thing shrieked. It jumped straight into the air, claws scrabbling for purchase on the acoustic tile ceiling.
The same talons that had cut through the steel back door shredded the tiles as well as the aluminum framework. Foam and fiber floating through the air. Metal ricocheted off the walls before hitting the floor in rapid-fire pings. For a split second, the demon imitated a hellish version of Wile E. Coyote running in mid-air. Gravity had other ideas, and the creature crashed to the floor.
For something that looked like a giant dead monkey, it was fast. It leapt, and Alex ducked and rolled to avoid its claws. No doubt it could take off his head with one swipe.
It headed straight for Phil and knocked the semi-automatic from her grip. Alex raised his own gun and fired.
The thing shrieked again when part of its head disintegrated. It shoved Phil into the wall before it turned and glared at Alex with its one good eye. Before he could squeeze the trigger again, it dived through the doorway to the back room.
Alex jumped to his feet and ran after it, Phil hot on his heels.
A series of sharp high-pitched yips preceded another shriek from the creature. Alex raced out the back door to find the thing perched on top of the dumpster. It cringed while Kiki danced around the base, barking for all she was worth.
What the hell? The creature tore through a vampire and a demi-goddess like they were nothing, and it was frightened of a shaved Maltese?
From the ashy scent penetrating the thing’s body odor, there was no doubt. It was scared shitless of Kiki. More of its strange, chittering language issued from its mouth.
It looked at Alex and Phil approaching and back down at the tiny white dog. Resignation appeared on its mottled face. It reached for Kiki.
“No!” Phil’s scream was telepathic as well as auditory.
Horror seized Alex’s heart. He brought his gun up and squeezed the trigger the same moment the demon touched the hyper canine.
The monkey demon exploded into a cloud of ash before the silver bullet hit it.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Blood Sacrifice (Bloodlines #5) - Chapter 3
[Note: Despite my best efforts, I've only been managing to post chapters every other week. It seems to be working so I'm going to stick to that schedule until I get this f***ing book done.]
Alex’s stomach lurched. Most of the members were supposed to be locked up in the state psychiatric facility. The handful who were declared sane enough to stand trial had been sentenced last month and had just been transported to the state pen.
Phil looked at him “The Sunshine Believers? Aren’t they—”
Phil! Shut up!
The witch deputy wince in pain at his psychic shout. Obviously, it got through Phil’s shields from the ugly look she shot Alex.
He could see in her eyes when she realized what she almost said in front of the Normal member of the sheriff’s department.
“—disbanded?” she finished.
Even Jorge had a pissed look on his sharp face. “You two are done here. Why don’t I walk you to your truck?”
Alex shoved the dog into Phil’s arms and latched onto her elbow. For a second, the look on her face said she’d deck him. Instead, she jerked free from his grasp and marched for the gate.
The sway of her hips sent a jolt straight to his groin. Dammit, what the hell was wrong with him? A woman had been brutally murdered, and his dick wanted to do all the thinking.
He stalked after her, Sifuentes puffing behind him as he tried to keep up with the supernaturals.
Phil was already in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead when Alex reached his truck.
“Stanton, wait!”
He paused, his hand on the door handle.
Jorge wheezed for a couple of seconds before he said, “We need to work together on this.”
“And why is that?” Alex snapped. He closed his eyes. His own bad mood wasn’t Jorge’s fault. “Sorry, amigo.”
“De nada.” Sifuentes glanced at the house, then back at Alex. “It’s gonna take both sides to figure out what happened to the vic. There’s a good chance that whoever murdered Madison was the same person or persons who trashed Mann’s place.”
Alex could see his own suspicions mirrored in Sifuentes’s eyes. Phil or Jane or any of the other employees could be lying on the debris of the antiques store, her chest sliced open and her heart missing. “What are you proposing?”
“My people can deal with the Sunshine Believers. But I need your help with the demon equation. They could have been the ones who summoned Mann’s unknown player.”
Alex couldn’t help smiling. He’d never known Sifuentes to ask for any kind of supernatural assistance before now. And if the detective needed it, he would go to his father-in-law first. “Then we share all information. No holding back. Otherwise, someone else may die.”
Sifuentes dipped his head. “Agreed.”
Alex yanked the truck door open. “Did you recognize the scent of the demon?” For a long moment, he didn’t think Phil would answer him. She sure as hell wouldn’t look at him.
Finally, she sighed. “No. All I can tell you is what it wasn’t. It’s not European, North African, Middle Eastern or North American.”
“That only leaves the rest of the world.” He couldn’t stop the sarcasm that leached into his voice.
Her eyes met his. “And all the other dimensions.”
“Other…dimensions?” Sifuentes’s voice rose an octave.
Alex bit his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Leave it to Phil to play her god card. Good to know she didn’t consider him her only verbal punching bag if she was messing with Sifuentes. Alex returned his attention to the detective. “I’ll eliminate the local demon species before I start checking outside of Earth.” He inclined his head toward the house. “The deputy who’s a witch…”
Sifuentes gave a rueful chuckle. “Goldblum’s got potential. He’s excellent at pulling answers out of ghosts at crime scenes, which is why I recruited him for homicide, but he’s a baby by witch standards.”
“I’ll call Ziva and see if she has a demonology expert.” Alex eyed Sifuentes. “I don’t suppose you could put in a word with the in-laws…”
“Do you have a problem with my wife?”
This time Alex let his laughter loose. “Not one damn bit. She’s got the best nose in the pack.”
Sifuentes rubbed his jaw. “I’ll have her meet you here once the crime scene unit’s done.”
“See you in a few hours.” Alex climbed into the truck and started it. Once he was out of the driveway, Sifuentes waved the arriving CSU van into the spot.
Phil still wasn’t talking, which Alex had to admit to himself was just fine with him. Concentrating on his job kept him from thinking about how her body had felt under his. How much he wanted to feel her again after all these decades.
He punched Tiffany Stephen’s number into the truck’s built-in phone.
“What the fuck do you want, Alex?” So much for pregnancy mellowing her attitude.
“I need some research.”
“I can’t. I’m on goddamn maternity leave until December 31st. Remember?”
Figured that she’d still be pouting about Duncan’s orders. The girl was damn lucky she hadn’t lost her baby after zombies pummeled her during her aborted wedding two and a half months ago.
He sucked in a deep breath and dropped his tone. “And I’m acting Chief Enforcer while he and Caesar are out of town. Do you want to work on a murder investigation or not?”
Silence crackled through the speaker for a moment before she said, “Go.”
“The victim is Beatrice Madison. A Normal whose heart was cut out of her chest. We can place a demon and possibly the Sunshine Believers at the scene around the time of death.”
Tiffany’s sharp intake of breath whistled through the phone. “Those bastards are all locked away after Jessie’s kidnapping last winter.”
Alex couldn’t help smiling. Only Tiffany would be more concerned about a Normal cult than a demon. “Double-check for me. And I need everything you can find on Madison. Focus on phone calls, incoming and outgoing, over the past four days. Also, she had a boarding pass for a flight to Peru. Find out what flight and when she bought the ticket.”
“Anything else?”
He glanced at Phil. “What’s her husband’s name?”
“Dennis Madison.” She focused on stroking the dog, which had gone to sleep in her lap.
“Hey, Phil!”
“Hello, sweetie.” Phil’s voice noticeably softened toward her former ward.
Alex prayed Tiffany wouldn’t say anything about Phil being in his truck. Some angel must have heard his silent prayer because Tiffany said, “Is he a suspect?”
“No.” Phil cleared her throat. “He died in an automobile accident two months ago.”
“Did you get that, Tiffany?” Alex said.
“Yeah. You’ll want his background info and the accident report. Anything else, Alex?”
“One more thing. He brought items into the U.S. from Peru for several years before his death. See if you can get a listing from the Customs database.”
“How soon do you need this?”
The waste over such a senseless, obscene death hit him in the gut. “We needed it two days ago, kid.”
* * *
Phillippa winced. Alex’s words felt like a slap across her face. If he hadn’t insisted on visiting Beatrice, Gaea only knew when her body would have been discovered. And devoted little Kiki would have starved to death before she would’ve left her former mistress.
The tiny body in her lap shook and whined. Phillippa stroked the dog’s fine fur, and she calmed, still asleep.
Phillippa wished she could find comfort in a simple touch. What she really craved was a target and a weapon. Electricity rippled along her skin, making the hairs on her arms stand straight up.
If she didn’t get her agitation under control, she’d fry the truck’s electrical system. And she’d be damn to Tartarus before she’d give Alex the satisfaction of watching her lose it again tonight. “What should we do while we wait for the CSU to finish and Tiffany to pull the Madison’s information?”
“‘We?’” Alex glanced at her before returning his attention to the road. “There’s no ‘we,’ Phil. I’m taking you back to your shop so you can get your car.”
Like Hades. “No. I’m your shadow until we find Beatrice’s killers.”
He glanced at her. “And as you’ve repeatedly said, you won’t get mixed up in other supernaturals’ internal matters.”
“And as you’ve repeatedly said, Augustine coven is short-handed these days between Selene’s betrayal and Tiffany’s wedding.”
Wood smoke overlayed Alex’s normal sandalwood scent. Phillippa suppressed a smile. Good to know she was getting under his skin too. Not that she would have thrown Selene’s bullshit in Caesar or Duncan’s face.
“Besides, these bastards hit my place, too,” she added. “And Beatrice is, was, my client, not the coven’s or the pack’s.”
A wry smile spread across Alex’s face. “You really cannot handle the fact that I was right about checking out the Madison house tonight, can you?”
“Men are never right.” She stared out the window.
Of course, Alex couldn’t drop the subject. “Really? I’ve noticed you don’t get this snippy with Caesar or Duncan.”
“They are…reasonable.”
“In other words, you haven’t screwed either of them.”
There it was. The thing that always lay between them. All because she made the mistake of falling for a Texas Ranger in San Antonio over one hundred-twenty years ago. A Normal she thought was dead.
Ugly truths danced to close to the surface of her emotions. Except this time, it wasn’t anger that consumed her, but immense sorrow. “Beatrice died because of something none of us understand yet. Can you please leave yours and everyone else’s penises out of the equation? Even I understand how short-staffed you are when it comes to daytime personnel if Sam Ridgeway is your only choice to accompany Anne to Ohio.”
Alex’s attention flicked to her, then back to the road. “How did you know—?” Understanding washed over his features. “Tiffany bitched.”
“Don’t worry. She only spoke with me.” Phillip smiled. “She’s not happy about the forced maternity leave.”
He sighed. “I can’t blame her. But you know how Duncan gets any time one of his nieces gets pregnant.”
She laughed. “Yes, I do. And I’ve seen a few more centuries of his macho act than you.”
Alex grinned for a moment, then abruptly sobered. “If I accept your offer of help on this case, that means you’ll have to follow my…instructions.”
He’d been about to say, “Orders.” She’d lay a month’s income on it. His acknowledgement of her feelings without his usual pathetic ass-kissing thawed a tiny bit of her reserve.
“Fine.”
He shot her an odd look. “I mean it, Phil. I can’t have you going off half-cocked until we know for sure who tossed your store and killed Mrs. Madison.”
“I swear I won’t do anything stupid.”
“On the River Styx, Phil.” Alex made a point of saying it Ancient Greek, not English.
Okay, now she was pissed. The world righted since they were back to their usual acrimonious relationship.
She sighed, a perturbed sound. “I swear by the River Styx that I will obey your directions during the course of the investigation of the break-in of Seven Wonders Antiquities and Beatrice Madison’s murder,” she answered in Greek. She switched to English. “Happy?”
“Deliriously.”
She leaned her head against the passenger door window. There was only one little problem with assisting Alex during the next few days.
How was she going to keep her hands off him?
Alex’s stomach lurched. Most of the members were supposed to be locked up in the state psychiatric facility. The handful who were declared sane enough to stand trial had been sentenced last month and had just been transported to the state pen.
Phil looked at him “The Sunshine Believers? Aren’t they—”
Phil! Shut up!
The witch deputy wince in pain at his psychic shout. Obviously, it got through Phil’s shields from the ugly look she shot Alex.
He could see in her eyes when she realized what she almost said in front of the Normal member of the sheriff’s department.
“—disbanded?” she finished.
Even Jorge had a pissed look on his sharp face. “You two are done here. Why don’t I walk you to your truck?”
Alex shoved the dog into Phil’s arms and latched onto her elbow. For a second, the look on her face said she’d deck him. Instead, she jerked free from his grasp and marched for the gate.
The sway of her hips sent a jolt straight to his groin. Dammit, what the hell was wrong with him? A woman had been brutally murdered, and his dick wanted to do all the thinking.
He stalked after her, Sifuentes puffing behind him as he tried to keep up with the supernaturals.
Phil was already in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead when Alex reached his truck.
“Stanton, wait!”
He paused, his hand on the door handle.
Jorge wheezed for a couple of seconds before he said, “We need to work together on this.”
“And why is that?” Alex snapped. He closed his eyes. His own bad mood wasn’t Jorge’s fault. “Sorry, amigo.”
“De nada.” Sifuentes glanced at the house, then back at Alex. “It’s gonna take both sides to figure out what happened to the vic. There’s a good chance that whoever murdered Madison was the same person or persons who trashed Mann’s place.”
Alex could see his own suspicions mirrored in Sifuentes’s eyes. Phil or Jane or any of the other employees could be lying on the debris of the antiques store, her chest sliced open and her heart missing. “What are you proposing?”
“My people can deal with the Sunshine Believers. But I need your help with the demon equation. They could have been the ones who summoned Mann’s unknown player.”
Alex couldn’t help smiling. He’d never known Sifuentes to ask for any kind of supernatural assistance before now. And if the detective needed it, he would go to his father-in-law first. “Then we share all information. No holding back. Otherwise, someone else may die.”
Sifuentes dipped his head. “Agreed.”
Alex yanked the truck door open. “Did you recognize the scent of the demon?” For a long moment, he didn’t think Phil would answer him. She sure as hell wouldn’t look at him.
Finally, she sighed. “No. All I can tell you is what it wasn’t. It’s not European, North African, Middle Eastern or North American.”
“That only leaves the rest of the world.” He couldn’t stop the sarcasm that leached into his voice.
Her eyes met his. “And all the other dimensions.”
“Other…dimensions?” Sifuentes’s voice rose an octave.
Alex bit his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Leave it to Phil to play her god card. Good to know she didn’t consider him her only verbal punching bag if she was messing with Sifuentes. Alex returned his attention to the detective. “I’ll eliminate the local demon species before I start checking outside of Earth.” He inclined his head toward the house. “The deputy who’s a witch…”
Sifuentes gave a rueful chuckle. “Goldblum’s got potential. He’s excellent at pulling answers out of ghosts at crime scenes, which is why I recruited him for homicide, but he’s a baby by witch standards.”
“I’ll call Ziva and see if she has a demonology expert.” Alex eyed Sifuentes. “I don’t suppose you could put in a word with the in-laws…”
“Do you have a problem with my wife?”
This time Alex let his laughter loose. “Not one damn bit. She’s got the best nose in the pack.”
Sifuentes rubbed his jaw. “I’ll have her meet you here once the crime scene unit’s done.”
“See you in a few hours.” Alex climbed into the truck and started it. Once he was out of the driveway, Sifuentes waved the arriving CSU van into the spot.
Phil still wasn’t talking, which Alex had to admit to himself was just fine with him. Concentrating on his job kept him from thinking about how her body had felt under his. How much he wanted to feel her again after all these decades.
He punched Tiffany Stephen’s number into the truck’s built-in phone.
“What the fuck do you want, Alex?” So much for pregnancy mellowing her attitude.
“I need some research.”
“I can’t. I’m on goddamn maternity leave until December 31st. Remember?”
Figured that she’d still be pouting about Duncan’s orders. The girl was damn lucky she hadn’t lost her baby after zombies pummeled her during her aborted wedding two and a half months ago.
He sucked in a deep breath and dropped his tone. “And I’m acting Chief Enforcer while he and Caesar are out of town. Do you want to work on a murder investigation or not?”
Silence crackled through the speaker for a moment before she said, “Go.”
“The victim is Beatrice Madison. A Normal whose heart was cut out of her chest. We can place a demon and possibly the Sunshine Believers at the scene around the time of death.”
Tiffany’s sharp intake of breath whistled through the phone. “Those bastards are all locked away after Jessie’s kidnapping last winter.”
Alex couldn’t help smiling. Only Tiffany would be more concerned about a Normal cult than a demon. “Double-check for me. And I need everything you can find on Madison. Focus on phone calls, incoming and outgoing, over the past four days. Also, she had a boarding pass for a flight to Peru. Find out what flight and when she bought the ticket.”
“Anything else?”
He glanced at Phil. “What’s her husband’s name?”
“Dennis Madison.” She focused on stroking the dog, which had gone to sleep in her lap.
“Hey, Phil!”
“Hello, sweetie.” Phil’s voice noticeably softened toward her former ward.
Alex prayed Tiffany wouldn’t say anything about Phil being in his truck. Some angel must have heard his silent prayer because Tiffany said, “Is he a suspect?”
“No.” Phil cleared her throat. “He died in an automobile accident two months ago.”
“Did you get that, Tiffany?” Alex said.
“Yeah. You’ll want his background info and the accident report. Anything else, Alex?”
“One more thing. He brought items into the U.S. from Peru for several years before his death. See if you can get a listing from the Customs database.”
“How soon do you need this?”
The waste over such a senseless, obscene death hit him in the gut. “We needed it two days ago, kid.”
* * *
Phillippa winced. Alex’s words felt like a slap across her face. If he hadn’t insisted on visiting Beatrice, Gaea only knew when her body would have been discovered. And devoted little Kiki would have starved to death before she would’ve left her former mistress.
The tiny body in her lap shook and whined. Phillippa stroked the dog’s fine fur, and she calmed, still asleep.
Phillippa wished she could find comfort in a simple touch. What she really craved was a target and a weapon. Electricity rippled along her skin, making the hairs on her arms stand straight up.
If she didn’t get her agitation under control, she’d fry the truck’s electrical system. And she’d be damn to Tartarus before she’d give Alex the satisfaction of watching her lose it again tonight. “What should we do while we wait for the CSU to finish and Tiffany to pull the Madison’s information?”
“‘We?’” Alex glanced at her before returning his attention to the road. “There’s no ‘we,’ Phil. I’m taking you back to your shop so you can get your car.”
Like Hades. “No. I’m your shadow until we find Beatrice’s killers.”
He glanced at her. “And as you’ve repeatedly said, you won’t get mixed up in other supernaturals’ internal matters.”
“And as you’ve repeatedly said, Augustine coven is short-handed these days between Selene’s betrayal and Tiffany’s wedding.”
Wood smoke overlayed Alex’s normal sandalwood scent. Phillippa suppressed a smile. Good to know she was getting under his skin too. Not that she would have thrown Selene’s bullshit in Caesar or Duncan’s face.
“Besides, these bastards hit my place, too,” she added. “And Beatrice is, was, my client, not the coven’s or the pack’s.”
A wry smile spread across Alex’s face. “You really cannot handle the fact that I was right about checking out the Madison house tonight, can you?”
“Men are never right.” She stared out the window.
Of course, Alex couldn’t drop the subject. “Really? I’ve noticed you don’t get this snippy with Caesar or Duncan.”
“They are…reasonable.”
“In other words, you haven’t screwed either of them.”
There it was. The thing that always lay between them. All because she made the mistake of falling for a Texas Ranger in San Antonio over one hundred-twenty years ago. A Normal she thought was dead.
Ugly truths danced to close to the surface of her emotions. Except this time, it wasn’t anger that consumed her, but immense sorrow. “Beatrice died because of something none of us understand yet. Can you please leave yours and everyone else’s penises out of the equation? Even I understand how short-staffed you are when it comes to daytime personnel if Sam Ridgeway is your only choice to accompany Anne to Ohio.”
Alex’s attention flicked to her, then back to the road. “How did you know—?” Understanding washed over his features. “Tiffany bitched.”
“Don’t worry. She only spoke with me.” Phillip smiled. “She’s not happy about the forced maternity leave.”
He sighed. “I can’t blame her. But you know how Duncan gets any time one of his nieces gets pregnant.”
She laughed. “Yes, I do. And I’ve seen a few more centuries of his macho act than you.”
Alex grinned for a moment, then abruptly sobered. “If I accept your offer of help on this case, that means you’ll have to follow my…instructions.”
He’d been about to say, “Orders.” She’d lay a month’s income on it. His acknowledgement of her feelings without his usual pathetic ass-kissing thawed a tiny bit of her reserve.
“Fine.”
He shot her an odd look. “I mean it, Phil. I can’t have you going off half-cocked until we know for sure who tossed your store and killed Mrs. Madison.”
“I swear I won’t do anything stupid.”
“On the River Styx, Phil.” Alex made a point of saying it Ancient Greek, not English.
Okay, now she was pissed. The world righted since they were back to their usual acrimonious relationship.
She sighed, a perturbed sound. “I swear by the River Styx that I will obey your directions during the course of the investigation of the break-in of Seven Wonders Antiquities and Beatrice Madison’s murder,” she answered in Greek. She switched to English. “Happy?”
“Deliriously.”
She leaned her head against the passenger door window. There was only one little problem with assisting Alex during the next few days.
How was she going to keep her hands off him?
Monday, April 15, 2013
Blood Sacrifice (Bloodlines #5) - Chapter 2
Alex resisted the urge to laugh when Phillippa’s mouth gaped open. But he was through with her insults and her frigid attitude. She’d made her point that she preferred him only when his blood had been Normal temperature. And she was so full of herself, she assumed his practical joke at the San Francisco mansion had been retaliation for her rejection. Dammit, he’d apologized enough over the last 100 years.
“Um, maybe the coven could send someone else to assist you, Mr. Stanton?” Jane asked. The poor girl had paled noticeably during his and Phillippa’s verbal sparring.
Pink flared in Phillippa’s cheeks and her heart rate jumped. Interesting. He couldn’t read her mind, but she couldn’t hide the little things, like her pulse.
He crossed his arms and gave Jane his full attention. “Sorry, darling. I’m the senior enforcer until my boss returns. My coven master values his business relationship with Miss Mann here, so I’m stuck babysitting her.”
Sure enough, the overhead fluorescents flickered on cue.
He ignored the Olympian temper-tantrum. “Could you get me this Mrs. Madison’s number and address?”
“No.” Phillippa’s voice resembled the low rumble of thunder.
“And, I’ll need an inventory of the other items y’all are handling for her.” He gave Jane a gentle smile.
Phillippa stepped between him and her assistant. “I said no.”
He shifted around the irate demi-goddess to face Jane. “You mentioned this was an estate sale. Does the widow have documentation for the items?”
Phillippa whirled to face her assistant. “Don’t you dare answer him.”
Jane flicked a glance at her boss before her attention returned to Alex. “I’ll get it for you.”
Once again, the lights in the shop brightened and dimmed. Alex had to give Jane credit. Most Normals would be quivering with terror when caught in the middle of an argument between a vampire and a demi-goddess. Unless she didn’t know what her boss was. But she damn well knew what he was. He’d caught that much in her surface thoughts when he shook her hand.
Instead, the girl raised her chin a notch as she faced her employer. “Somebody went to a lot of trouble to steal that replica. Don’t you want to know why?” She pivoted and marched toward the store’s office.
Phillippa whirled to face him again, her fists clenched at her sides. “How dare you glamour my employee.” One of the halogen spotlights popped. The acrid smoke overrode the saltpeter scent of her anger.
He crossed his arms. “You keep throwing tantrums, and you’ll fry the building’s wiring. Do you want to explain an electrical fire to your insurance agent or the arson investigator?”
She took a deep breath. It was all he could do to keep his attention on her face and away from her perfectly proportioned breasts. Only one time with her, and the feel of her skin had burned into his cells. Not even the V-virus wiped that away.
Alex shook his head. “I didn’t have to do anything to your assistant. She’s as upset and confused about this break-in as you are.”
“I am not—” she began. Then she took another lungful of air and crossed her arms, matching his body language, as her gaze swept the wreckage. “I really don’t want to explain to my insurance agent why my store was trashed twice in less than a year.”
His eyes widened in disbelief. “Augustine Coven didn’t compensate you for the rogue attack in January?”
One of Phil’s perfect shoulders lifted and dropped. “Caesar paid for the furniture and equipment that was destroyed and the building damage. What he can’t pay for is the time it takes to acquire such a collection in the first place or my reputation. The landlord refused to renew my lease. While the insurance company was thrilled not to pay on the first claim, they will question this one a lot more thoroughly.”
Jane walked back with a piece of paper. “Here’s Mrs. Madison’s info.”
Phil reached for it, but Alex snatched it first.
“Getting slow in your old age, Mann?” He ignored Phil’s look of outrage and scanned the address before checking his watch. It was a little late for a social visit, so he may have to glamour the widow. God, he hated messing with anyone’s mind.
He did another slow sweep of the mess. This may have been sheer vandalism, but something about the break-in just didn’t sit right. And why take a fake when there were pieces more valuable and easier to fence?
He folded the paper and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Thank you for your help, Jane. It’s been a pleasure.” The girl beamed. He faced Phil. “Since you insist you don’t need my help, have a good evening.” Phil stepped in front of him. “Wait. Where are you going?”
For second, the jiggle of her breasts almost made Alex forget her question. He forced his eyes to meet hers. “Out to do my job. We’ve been a little short-handed lately.” He tried to step around Phil, but she inserted herself between him and the gaping hole where the front door used to be.
“You’re going over to Mrs. Madison’s tonight, aren’t you?” Accusation ran thick in her voice.
“Didn’t you just tell me this wasn’t my jurisdiction?” He gestured at the broken display cases.
“You are not harassing one of my clients.” She planted her fists on her hips. Unfortunately, the motion gave her perfect breasts another little jiggle. Did she still taste like the sweetest white grapes?
Once again, it took all his willpower to meet her gaze. A gaze that literally flashed lightning. “Why do you care?” His was a simple question delivered in a flat voice because he’ll damned if he acted like a lovesick puppy around her anymore.
He wasn’t sure if it was the question or the tone that rocked her back on her heels. Her mouth opened and closed. She stared at the ruined jewelry case a moment before she said, “If something about this piece is the reason for the break-in, Beatrice may be in trouble.”
“Then someone needs to check on her. You coming with me, or you driving your own vehicle?”
For a split second, it seemed like she’d give him more shit. Then she grimaced and turned to Jane. “Will you be all right here until the contractor gets here with the plywood?”
Jane nodded. “I’ve got my Taser if they come back.”
Alex tried to hide his wince. The mention of a Taser brought back too many memories he’d rather forget. He motioned for Phil to follow him out to his truck.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Alex stole another glance at the woman next to him. Passing headlights illuminated the worried look on her face. If it were any other female, he’d take their hand and tell them everything would be all right. If he tried that with Phil, she cut off his hand before she beheaded him.
Instead, he focused on the case. “Did Mrs. Madison say where she acquired this tumi?”
She shook her head. The motion sent her high ponytail swinging. “Her husband got it on a business trip to Peru a few years ago.”
“If a tumi is a cultural artifact, how’d he get it through customs?”
She snorted. “Because customs isn’t going to stop you for carrying a fake.”
“What if it’s not a fake?”
He could feel her eyes boring into him as he kept his attention on the road. “You don’t believe me,” she finally said.
“I didn’t say that.” They passed the Beverly Hills sign, and Alex repressed a shudder. Nothing good came out of Beverly Hills. The last time had been a horde of zombies. “But someone went to an awful lot of trouble to steal one fake when everything else would have been more profitable.”
Phil chewed on a thumbnail. He wasn’t going to get anything more out of her now. Damn, she was touchier about her honor than most of the older vampires he knew.
He guided his pick-up into the Madison driveway. The second he stepped out of the truck, a sickly-sweet smell assaulted his olfactory nerve. He reached for his semi-automatic tucked at the small of his back. While teeth and claws were great for hand-to-hand, the specially designed bullets in the magazine gave him a decided advantage.
Phil’s worried expression melted into anger. “Where’s the spare?”
“Under your seat,” he said softly. He reached out with his mind, but the only thing he found was muddled thoughts that screamed canine. With his luck, it could be a were instead of someone’s pet.
She had the second gun in a tight grip as she circled around the bed to meet him. He held up one finger. With hand signals, she asked, Normal or supernatural?
He shook his head and shrugged. If neither of them could tell, this could turn nasty fast. It would be so much easier to communicate mentally, but he sincerely doubted she’d let him create a link for a tight telepathic bond. He’d have better luck getting into her bed again.
She motioned that she would take the back entrance. With a blur of motion even his vampire vision had difficulty tracking, she was across the front yard and over the stone privacy wall.
Alex eased up to the main door, senses extended. Faint sounds came from the house along with the snarl of animal thoughts.
He pulled his shirttail from the waistband of his jeans. The material covered his hand as he tried the door handle.
Unlocked.
With his boot, he toed open the huge mahogany door. The smell of decay gagged him.
He followed the sound of crying to his right. Dark cinnamon spots covered nearly every surface of the living room. Including the tiny dog huddled next to the head of the dead woman lying spread-eagle in the middle of the carpet.
A middle-aged woman with a gaping hole in her chest. From the arcing splatter pattern, whoever killed her had started cutting while she was alive.
The dog had white fur where she wasn’t coated with her mistress’s blood. A small scrap of black fabric lay nearby. Something that wasn’t in the room when the killer had cut the aorta. From the smell and the dried puddle under the woman’s chest, she’d been dead for nearly forty-eight hours.
He scanned the room. Trashed. Furniture overturned. Cushions slashed. Odds and ends scattered across the carpet. Whoever did this tossed the room before they started cutting into Beatrice.
While the smell of old blood didn’t trigger the extension of his fangs, anger did.
Phil appeared in the doorway to the back of the house. He caught a hint of what may have been grief before she steeled her thoughts and her expression. She couldn’t hide her scent though. The brimstone of rage poured from her. She pointed at the rest of the house.
Without a word, they checked the rest of the first floor before they swept the second floor. Like the living room, every other nook and corner had been upended.
When they returned to the entrance of the living room, Alex pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial icon for Sifuentes. The only positive in this whole mess was the fact that Madison’s house sat just outside the Beverly Hills city limits. The last thing he needed was LASO and BHPD butting heads.
“Hey, Jorge, I’ve got something for you that’s more up your alley.”
Sifuentes swore in a streak of Spanish before he said, “Madison.”
“Yeah.” Alex gave him the address before he clicked off the call.
“Alex.”
He looked at Phil with a start. It was the first time she said his name without the word dripping with contempt since he’d been Turned.< f/>
“Do you have any rags or an old shirt in your truck?”
He followed her gaze to the poor dog shivering next to his mistress. Well, former mistress. “Yeah. I’ll be right back.”
* * *
Phil ignored Sifuentes’s rant as she sat in the front yard of Beatrice Madison’s house. Instead, she concentrated on shaving the blood-matted fur from Beatrice’s Maltese. Unfortunately, all she had to work with was one of Stanton’s throwing knives, but it kept her focused enough that she wasn’t affecting any nearby electrical equipment.
When Sifuentes paused for a breath, she looked up at him. “Kiki hasn’t eaten or had any water in two days, Jorge. Was I supposed to let her starve? Die of dehydration? I didn’t think even you were that much of a shit.”
“You contaminated a crime scene,” he repeated for the thirty-eighth time.
“Tracking a teaspoon of dog urine through the kitchen is hardly contaminating a crime scene.”
Sifuentes threw up his hands in exasperation. “Stanton…”
“In this case, I’ve got to agree with Phil.” The familiar twinkle in his eyes sent unwanted tingles through her body. “You’re acting like a shit, Jorge.”
She returned her attention to Kiki and gave the dog a few more pieces of kibble. She’d doled out the food while they waited for the sheriff’s department to arrive. The last thing she wanted was to make the traumatized Maltese sick.
“Detective?” One of the deputies approached them. The scent of ginger surrounded the man, not the tart apple of a Normal. Witch. “It looks like Madison may have been getting ready to leave town. Suitcases are in the trunk of the car in the garage. Her purse was in the car as well. The killer or killers may have caught her in the garage, then dragged her into the house.”
Sifuentes shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “Were the suitcases searched?”
“Yeah. But the odd thing is they didn’t take any money. Cash and credit cards are still in her wallet. We also found her passport in her purse along with a boarding pass.”
Sifuentes glared at the deputy. “Where was she headed?”
“Lima, Peru.” The deputy lowered his voice. “Her ghost isn’t around for me to question, sir. Sorry.”
The detective shrugged. “It was a long shot. Nothing appears to be missing except the vic’s heart.”
Phil looked up at the deputy. Honestly, men could be such dumbasses when something was right under their noses. “What about the demon?”
All three men turned to stare at her.
Alex crouched next to her. “What demon are you talking about?”
“The one that was in the house two days ago.” She eyed Alex for a moment before she shaved the last couple of swatches of ruined fur off Kiki.
“Are you saying a demon killed Mrs. Madison?” Alex’s voice broadcast his disbelief.
“No.” She set down Kiki, who gave herself a good shake before she turned and nudged Phil’s hand for more food.
“Then would you mind spelling it out for the rest of us,” Sifuentes growled.
“All I can tell you is a demon was in the house around the time of Beatrice’s death.” Phil held out a nugget that Kiki enthusiastically took. “I’m not saying the demon killed her. The back door was wide open when we got here. It may have stumbled on the scene after the fact, attracted by the scent. If it was here before she died, she invited it in.”
Which only added to the questions of this whole weird situation. Why would Beatrice be dealing with a demon?
There wasn’t anything in her dealings that indicated that Beatrice Madison was nothing more or less than a grieving Normal widow. She’d talked about getting rid of her late husband’s “collection of junk” before putting the house on the market.
Alex held out his palm to Kiki. “Phil, have you been to Madison’s house before tonight?”
Kiki trotted over and licked Alex’s hand. Weird. Most dogs avoided vampires.
Phil nodded. “Yes. Twice. Once for the initial appraisal. The second for when she signed the consignment contract. I didn’t smell or detect anyone other than humans and Kiki both times.”
“Why don’t you think the demon murdered her?” Alex said as he petted the Maltese.
It reminded her of how gentle he’d been with her…
Phil quashed the memory. “The opening is too neat. If a demon, no matter the pantheon, goes after the heart, it likes getting messy.”
“Detective Sifuentes!”
Phil and Alex climbed to their feet at the shout. Before she could say anything, Alex scooped the tiny dog in his arms. A little green monster rose behind Phil’s eyes. Don’t be stupid. Kiki’s not even your dog.
They followed Jorge through the gate to the courtyard. Another deputy knelt near a flowerbed with a flashlight.
Sifuentes snorted. “Dog tracks? You called me over to look at dog tracks?”
“Not the dog tracks, sir. The gold pin.”
Alex crouched next to the deputy to examine the shiny object. Kiki growled low in her throat.
Phil leaned over him to see for herself. It was an odd little pin, still attached to a scrap of black cloth. The pin was about an inch long. A coiled snake-like creature superimposed over a star. Except the reptilian figure had eight tiny legs.
“What the hell is that?” Sifuentes whispered.
“A cult symbol,” Alex said. “The Sunshine Believers.”
“Um, maybe the coven could send someone else to assist you, Mr. Stanton?” Jane asked. The poor girl had paled noticeably during his and Phillippa’s verbal sparring.
Pink flared in Phillippa’s cheeks and her heart rate jumped. Interesting. He couldn’t read her mind, but she couldn’t hide the little things, like her pulse.
He crossed his arms and gave Jane his full attention. “Sorry, darling. I’m the senior enforcer until my boss returns. My coven master values his business relationship with Miss Mann here, so I’m stuck babysitting her.”
Sure enough, the overhead fluorescents flickered on cue.
He ignored the Olympian temper-tantrum. “Could you get me this Mrs. Madison’s number and address?”
“No.” Phillippa’s voice resembled the low rumble of thunder.
“And, I’ll need an inventory of the other items y’all are handling for her.” He gave Jane a gentle smile.
Phillippa stepped between him and her assistant. “I said no.”
He shifted around the irate demi-goddess to face Jane. “You mentioned this was an estate sale. Does the widow have documentation for the items?”
Phillippa whirled to face her assistant. “Don’t you dare answer him.”
Jane flicked a glance at her boss before her attention returned to Alex. “I’ll get it for you.”
Once again, the lights in the shop brightened and dimmed. Alex had to give Jane credit. Most Normals would be quivering with terror when caught in the middle of an argument between a vampire and a demi-goddess. Unless she didn’t know what her boss was. But she damn well knew what he was. He’d caught that much in her surface thoughts when he shook her hand.
Instead, the girl raised her chin a notch as she faced her employer. “Somebody went to a lot of trouble to steal that replica. Don’t you want to know why?” She pivoted and marched toward the store’s office.
Phillippa whirled to face him again, her fists clenched at her sides. “How dare you glamour my employee.” One of the halogen spotlights popped. The acrid smoke overrode the saltpeter scent of her anger.
He crossed his arms. “You keep throwing tantrums, and you’ll fry the building’s wiring. Do you want to explain an electrical fire to your insurance agent or the arson investigator?”
She took a deep breath. It was all he could do to keep his attention on her face and away from her perfectly proportioned breasts. Only one time with her, and the feel of her skin had burned into his cells. Not even the V-virus wiped that away.
Alex shook his head. “I didn’t have to do anything to your assistant. She’s as upset and confused about this break-in as you are.”
“I am not—” she began. Then she took another lungful of air and crossed her arms, matching his body language, as her gaze swept the wreckage. “I really don’t want to explain to my insurance agent why my store was trashed twice in less than a year.”
His eyes widened in disbelief. “Augustine Coven didn’t compensate you for the rogue attack in January?”
One of Phil’s perfect shoulders lifted and dropped. “Caesar paid for the furniture and equipment that was destroyed and the building damage. What he can’t pay for is the time it takes to acquire such a collection in the first place or my reputation. The landlord refused to renew my lease. While the insurance company was thrilled not to pay on the first claim, they will question this one a lot more thoroughly.”
Jane walked back with a piece of paper. “Here’s Mrs. Madison’s info.”
Phil reached for it, but Alex snatched it first.
“Getting slow in your old age, Mann?” He ignored Phil’s look of outrage and scanned the address before checking his watch. It was a little late for a social visit, so he may have to glamour the widow. God, he hated messing with anyone’s mind.
He did another slow sweep of the mess. This may have been sheer vandalism, but something about the break-in just didn’t sit right. And why take a fake when there were pieces more valuable and easier to fence?
He folded the paper and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Thank you for your help, Jane. It’s been a pleasure.” The girl beamed. He faced Phil. “Since you insist you don’t need my help, have a good evening.” Phil stepped in front of him. “Wait. Where are you going?”
For second, the jiggle of her breasts almost made Alex forget her question. He forced his eyes to meet hers. “Out to do my job. We’ve been a little short-handed lately.” He tried to step around Phil, but she inserted herself between him and the gaping hole where the front door used to be.
“You’re going over to Mrs. Madison’s tonight, aren’t you?” Accusation ran thick in her voice.
“Didn’t you just tell me this wasn’t my jurisdiction?” He gestured at the broken display cases.
“You are not harassing one of my clients.” She planted her fists on her hips. Unfortunately, the motion gave her perfect breasts another little jiggle. Did she still taste like the sweetest white grapes?
Once again, it took all his willpower to meet her gaze. A gaze that literally flashed lightning. “Why do you care?” His was a simple question delivered in a flat voice because he’ll damned if he acted like a lovesick puppy around her anymore.
He wasn’t sure if it was the question or the tone that rocked her back on her heels. Her mouth opened and closed. She stared at the ruined jewelry case a moment before she said, “If something about this piece is the reason for the break-in, Beatrice may be in trouble.”
“Then someone needs to check on her. You coming with me, or you driving your own vehicle?”
For a split second, it seemed like she’d give him more shit. Then she grimaced and turned to Jane. “Will you be all right here until the contractor gets here with the plywood?”
Jane nodded. “I’ve got my Taser if they come back.”
Alex tried to hide his wince. The mention of a Taser brought back too many memories he’d rather forget. He motioned for Phil to follow him out to his truck.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Alex stole another glance at the woman next to him. Passing headlights illuminated the worried look on her face. If it were any other female, he’d take their hand and tell them everything would be all right. If he tried that with Phil, she cut off his hand before she beheaded him.
Instead, he focused on the case. “Did Mrs. Madison say where she acquired this tumi?”
She shook her head. The motion sent her high ponytail swinging. “Her husband got it on a business trip to Peru a few years ago.”
“If a tumi is a cultural artifact, how’d he get it through customs?”
She snorted. “Because customs isn’t going to stop you for carrying a fake.”
“What if it’s not a fake?”
He could feel her eyes boring into him as he kept his attention on the road. “You don’t believe me,” she finally said.
“I didn’t say that.” They passed the Beverly Hills sign, and Alex repressed a shudder. Nothing good came out of Beverly Hills. The last time had been a horde of zombies. “But someone went to an awful lot of trouble to steal one fake when everything else would have been more profitable.”
Phil chewed on a thumbnail. He wasn’t going to get anything more out of her now. Damn, she was touchier about her honor than most of the older vampires he knew.
He guided his pick-up into the Madison driveway. The second he stepped out of the truck, a sickly-sweet smell assaulted his olfactory nerve. He reached for his semi-automatic tucked at the small of his back. While teeth and claws were great for hand-to-hand, the specially designed bullets in the magazine gave him a decided advantage.
Phil’s worried expression melted into anger. “Where’s the spare?”
“Under your seat,” he said softly. He reached out with his mind, but the only thing he found was muddled thoughts that screamed canine. With his luck, it could be a were instead of someone’s pet.
She had the second gun in a tight grip as she circled around the bed to meet him. He held up one finger. With hand signals, she asked, Normal or supernatural?
He shook his head and shrugged. If neither of them could tell, this could turn nasty fast. It would be so much easier to communicate mentally, but he sincerely doubted she’d let him create a link for a tight telepathic bond. He’d have better luck getting into her bed again.
She motioned that she would take the back entrance. With a blur of motion even his vampire vision had difficulty tracking, she was across the front yard and over the stone privacy wall.
Alex eased up to the main door, senses extended. Faint sounds came from the house along with the snarl of animal thoughts.
He pulled his shirttail from the waistband of his jeans. The material covered his hand as he tried the door handle.
Unlocked.
With his boot, he toed open the huge mahogany door. The smell of decay gagged him.
He followed the sound of crying to his right. Dark cinnamon spots covered nearly every surface of the living room. Including the tiny dog huddled next to the head of the dead woman lying spread-eagle in the middle of the carpet.
A middle-aged woman with a gaping hole in her chest. From the arcing splatter pattern, whoever killed her had started cutting while she was alive.
The dog had white fur where she wasn’t coated with her mistress’s blood. A small scrap of black fabric lay nearby. Something that wasn’t in the room when the killer had cut the aorta. From the smell and the dried puddle under the woman’s chest, she’d been dead for nearly forty-eight hours.
He scanned the room. Trashed. Furniture overturned. Cushions slashed. Odds and ends scattered across the carpet. Whoever did this tossed the room before they started cutting into Beatrice.
While the smell of old blood didn’t trigger the extension of his fangs, anger did.
Phil appeared in the doorway to the back of the house. He caught a hint of what may have been grief before she steeled her thoughts and her expression. She couldn’t hide her scent though. The brimstone of rage poured from her. She pointed at the rest of the house.
Without a word, they checked the rest of the first floor before they swept the second floor. Like the living room, every other nook and corner had been upended.
When they returned to the entrance of the living room, Alex pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial icon for Sifuentes. The only positive in this whole mess was the fact that Madison’s house sat just outside the Beverly Hills city limits. The last thing he needed was LASO and BHPD butting heads.
“Hey, Jorge, I’ve got something for you that’s more up your alley.”
Sifuentes swore in a streak of Spanish before he said, “Madison.”
“Yeah.” Alex gave him the address before he clicked off the call.
“Alex.”
He looked at Phil with a start. It was the first time she said his name without the word dripping with contempt since he’d been Turned.< f/>
“Do you have any rags or an old shirt in your truck?”
He followed her gaze to the poor dog shivering next to his mistress. Well, former mistress. “Yeah. I’ll be right back.”
* * *
Phil ignored Sifuentes’s rant as she sat in the front yard of Beatrice Madison’s house. Instead, she concentrated on shaving the blood-matted fur from Beatrice’s Maltese. Unfortunately, all she had to work with was one of Stanton’s throwing knives, but it kept her focused enough that she wasn’t affecting any nearby electrical equipment.
When Sifuentes paused for a breath, she looked up at him. “Kiki hasn’t eaten or had any water in two days, Jorge. Was I supposed to let her starve? Die of dehydration? I didn’t think even you were that much of a shit.”
“You contaminated a crime scene,” he repeated for the thirty-eighth time.
“Tracking a teaspoon of dog urine through the kitchen is hardly contaminating a crime scene.”
Sifuentes threw up his hands in exasperation. “Stanton…”
“In this case, I’ve got to agree with Phil.” The familiar twinkle in his eyes sent unwanted tingles through her body. “You’re acting like a shit, Jorge.”
She returned her attention to Kiki and gave the dog a few more pieces of kibble. She’d doled out the food while they waited for the sheriff’s department to arrive. The last thing she wanted was to make the traumatized Maltese sick.
“Detective?” One of the deputies approached them. The scent of ginger surrounded the man, not the tart apple of a Normal. Witch. “It looks like Madison may have been getting ready to leave town. Suitcases are in the trunk of the car in the garage. Her purse was in the car as well. The killer or killers may have caught her in the garage, then dragged her into the house.”
Sifuentes shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “Were the suitcases searched?”
“Yeah. But the odd thing is they didn’t take any money. Cash and credit cards are still in her wallet. We also found her passport in her purse along with a boarding pass.”
Sifuentes glared at the deputy. “Where was she headed?”
“Lima, Peru.” The deputy lowered his voice. “Her ghost isn’t around for me to question, sir. Sorry.”
The detective shrugged. “It was a long shot. Nothing appears to be missing except the vic’s heart.”
Phil looked up at the deputy. Honestly, men could be such dumbasses when something was right under their noses. “What about the demon?”
All three men turned to stare at her.
Alex crouched next to her. “What demon are you talking about?”
“The one that was in the house two days ago.” She eyed Alex for a moment before she shaved the last couple of swatches of ruined fur off Kiki.
“Are you saying a demon killed Mrs. Madison?” Alex’s voice broadcast his disbelief.
“No.” She set down Kiki, who gave herself a good shake before she turned and nudged Phil’s hand for more food.
“Then would you mind spelling it out for the rest of us,” Sifuentes growled.
“All I can tell you is a demon was in the house around the time of Beatrice’s death.” Phil held out a nugget that Kiki enthusiastically took. “I’m not saying the demon killed her. The back door was wide open when we got here. It may have stumbled on the scene after the fact, attracted by the scent. If it was here before she died, she invited it in.”
Which only added to the questions of this whole weird situation. Why would Beatrice be dealing with a demon?
There wasn’t anything in her dealings that indicated that Beatrice Madison was nothing more or less than a grieving Normal widow. She’d talked about getting rid of her late husband’s “collection of junk” before putting the house on the market.
Alex held out his palm to Kiki. “Phil, have you been to Madison’s house before tonight?”
Kiki trotted over and licked Alex’s hand. Weird. Most dogs avoided vampires.
Phil nodded. “Yes. Twice. Once for the initial appraisal. The second for when she signed the consignment contract. I didn’t smell or detect anyone other than humans and Kiki both times.”
“Why don’t you think the demon murdered her?” Alex said as he petted the Maltese.
It reminded her of how gentle he’d been with her…
Phil quashed the memory. “The opening is too neat. If a demon, no matter the pantheon, goes after the heart, it likes getting messy.”
“Detective Sifuentes!”
Phil and Alex climbed to their feet at the shout. Before she could say anything, Alex scooped the tiny dog in his arms. A little green monster rose behind Phil’s eyes. Don’t be stupid. Kiki’s not even your dog.
They followed Jorge through the gate to the courtyard. Another deputy knelt near a flowerbed with a flashlight.
Sifuentes snorted. “Dog tracks? You called me over to look at dog tracks?”
“Not the dog tracks, sir. The gold pin.”
Alex crouched next to the deputy to examine the shiny object. Kiki growled low in her throat.
Phil leaned over him to see for herself. It was an odd little pin, still attached to a scrap of black cloth. The pin was about an inch long. A coiled snake-like creature superimposed over a star. Except the reptilian figure had eight tiny legs.
“What the hell is that?” Sifuentes whispered.
“A cult symbol,” Alex said. “The Sunshine Believers.”
Monday, April 1, 2013
Blood Sacrifice (Bloodlines #5) - Chapter 1
Phillippa Mann gritted her teeth when Alex Stanton appeared in the frame of her new store’s smashed front door. Out of the hundreds of languages she’d learned in her 5,000 years of existence, only one word sprang to mind.
“Shit.”
Her assistant manager Jane glanced up from her half of the antique store’s inventory. “What’s wrong?” She whirled toward the front. “Hubba, hubba.”
“Don’t even think about it.” Phillippa shot the twenty-eight-year-old a stern look. “He’s an enforcer.”
Jane responded with a pouty lip. The woman was hornier than all the nymphs in Los Angeles County.
Phillippa clamped down on her own emotions. What the hell was he doing here? The break-in at the new facility for her antiques business was nothing more than a standard smash-and-grab. She returned her attention to her own portion of the inventory, trying to ignore the blue eyes that looked her way. Eyes that still haunted her dreams despite their current neon glow.
A series of quick pencil checks on the sheet covered the nineteenth century letter openers. Nagging unease filler her as she audited the merchandise. Nothing was missing. Not even a single diamond from the heirloom brooches. Why would someone break in, shatter the display cases and not take anything?
Glass crunched behind her. Electricity sparked the instant before a large hand touched her shoulder. His cool skin permeated the thin t-shirt she threw on when the alarm company had called.
“Are you all right?” The Texas drawl remained even though he’d lived in Los Angeles for nearly a century now. Not that she kept track of those things.
She jerked away and faced him. “Everyone’s fine. No one was here when it happened.”
Alex surveyed the mess. “What’s missing?”
Phillippa set her expression to what Jane referred to as her “bitch scowl.” “This isn’t your jurisdiction.”
He glanced at the uniformed sheriff’s deputy standing three yards away and scribbling furiously in her notebook. Phillippa’s muscles clenched when he took a half step closer to her and lowered his voice. “This is Family business, which is why I was called.”
“It’s a Normal crime,” she shot back.
Light flashed in his shaggy blond hair when he nodded at the detective standing near the ruined front door. “Jorge says this doesn’t smell right.”
She snorted. “This isn’t Sifuentes’ jurisdiction either. He’s a homicide detective.”
Alex shrugged. “He was the only Family with rank on duty when the call came in.”
Phillippa closed her eyes. This night couldn’t possibly get more aggravating. She opened them to find Alex staring at her with concern. The last thing she needed was any man’s concern, least of all Alex Stanton’s. “He’s also full of wolf shit. Just because he married one—”
Jane shoved her way between them. Part of Phillippa was relieved by the interruption. The other wanted to snap the girl’s neck. It’s in the past. So why couldn’t Phillippa get Alex out of her head?
“Hi.” Jane thrust her hand into Alex’s. “Jane Chevrette.”
The grin Alex gave her was a few watts short of the one he’d first given Phillippa over a century ago. But he’d also had a tan back then. “Pleased to meet you, Jane.”
The second his hand touched hers, Jane’s smile faltered. A smidgeon of glee fluttered in Phillippa’s heart at the girl’s expression. She’d warned the girl he was a supernatural.
To her assistant’s credit, she recovered quickly, for a Normal, and shook Alex’s hand. She turned to Phillippa, all business. “Nothing’s been touched in the safe. The only thing missing from the showroom is the fake tumi from the Madison estate.”
Phillippa grabbed Jane’s inventory sheaf. “You’re sure?”
Jane nodded.
“Tumi?” Confusion marred Alex’s face.
Detective Sifuentes sauntered across the room to join them. “What the hell’s a tumi?”
“An Incan ceremonial knife.” The answer came as an afterthought while Phillippa flipped through both sets of pages. “That makes no sense.”
Jane shrugged. “It’s the only piece I can’t find.” She surveyed the showroom. “Doesn’t mean it’s not buried somewhere under this mess.”
Alex’s attention flipped between Jane and Phillippa. “You’re sure it’s a fake?”
The lights in the showroom flickered. Phillippa forced down her irritation. How dare he question her?
Sifuentes’ eyes widened, but Alex regarded her with an amused expression. Jaw muscles quivered as Phillippa reined in the threads of her control. Electrocuting five members of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Office along with the vampire wasn’t conducive to keeping a low profile.
Jane’s offended expression helped. “The metal used on the piece wasn’t gold or any of the alloys used by the pre-Columbian cultures indigenous to Peru, so we had it tested. The tumi was made of titanium, ceramic composite and another substance our assayer couldn’t identify.”
“Which means. . .?” Sifuentes prompted.
“Someone used leftover space shuttle parts. It couldn’t possibly be authentic,” Phillippa said.
The detective rolled his eyes. “And you had a fake for sale?”
“The piece was clearly marked as a replica. It was unusual enough we thought we could sell it for Mrs. Madison.” Anger punctuated Jane’s sharp words, but the girl’s pique helped Phillippa gain control of her own mood.
Sifuentes rubbed a palm over his face. “I was pulled down here for this?” He flipped his notebook shut and thrust it in his pocket. “Look, Mann, I’ll write this up as vandalism so you can file with your insurance company.” He shot a suspicious look at her. “You do have insurance, don’t you?”
She may have her powers under control, but that didn’t squelch the urge to deck the detective for questioning her. Alex must have read her expression because he tensed and edged in front of Sifuentes.
Not wanting to give Stanton an excuse to touch her, she muttered, “Yes.”
Sifentes nodded and smacked Alex on the arm. “If you need anything, let me know. I’ll have the report on your desk in twenty-four hours.” He pivoted to leave.
Alex’s desk, not hers. The lights flickered once, and Sifuentes looked back and smiled. The evil smirk honed his blade-like nose and pointed chin. “I can turn the investigation over to Ziva or John if you want.”
“No, thank you,” she bit out. It was just her bad luck the vampires were up on the supernatural law enforcement rotation. On the other hand, the witch high priestess was worthless, and the alpha werewolf was a little too enthusiastic in meting out punishment rather than seeking justice. No, it wasn’t the rotation schedule. She could have dealt with any other vampire enforcer. Just not Stanton.
Sifuentes stepped closer to her, and like Alex had earlier, lowered his voice so the other deputies wouldn’t hear. “This would be a lot easier for everyone if you demi-gods would band together and get a seat on the Council.”
Of course, he knew. Nearly every supernatural in Los Angeles had seen her throw lightning bolts when zombies had attacked her former ward’s wedding. And they had spread the gossip as fast as telepathy and the internet could carry the titillating tidbits.
So much for keeping a low profile the last four millennia.
“Not in your lifetime. And you will send a copy of your report directly to me.” She gave the detective a smile, one that had sent Mycenaen soldiers fleeing in terror on the battlefield of Ilium. To his credit, Sifuentes didn’t flinch. But then, he was a Normal married to a werewolf.
“Sure.” He motioned to the rest of his people, and they filed out the door.
Phillippa shifted her attention to Alex. “You can leave too.”
“No, I can’t.” He smiled a real smile this time, one that displayed his extra pointy canines. “Don’t particularly wanna get staked by my boss for not taking care of you.”
Of all the audacious— “I do not need to be taken care of.”
“Don’t worry, Phil.” He cocked a dark blond eyebrow as his expression grew haughty. “It wasn’t an offer. I don’t do one-night stands with women older than my great-great-granny anymore.”
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