Chapter Eight
David's hand trembled almost imperceptibly as he accepted the glass of cold tap water. He held it to his forehead for a moment as he gathered his calm, then sipped it and set it on the solid ash coffee table before us. "Thank you," the small man said, then put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands.
I patted his shoulder and eased farther from him on his couch. Kisten was standing next to the TV, back to us as he looked over David's collection of Civil War sabers in a lighted, locked cabinet. The faint scent of Were tickled my nose, not unpleasant at all.
David was a wreck, and I alternated my attention between the shaken man dressed in his suit for the office and his tidy, clearly bachelor town house. It was the usual two stories, the entire complex about five to ten years old. The carpet probably hadn't ever been replaced, and I wondered if David rented or owned.
We were in the living room. To one side past the landscaped buffer was the parking lot. To the other through the kitchen and dining area was a large common courtyard, the other apartments far enough away that it granted a measure of privacy by pure distance. The walls were thick, hence the silence, and the classy wallpaper done in browns and tans said he had decorated it himself. Owned, I decided, remembering that as a field adjustor for Were Insurance he was paid very well for getting the true story from reluctant policy owners trying to hide the reason their Christmas tree had spontaneously combusted and took out their living room.
Though his apartment was a calm spot of peace, the Were himself looked ragged. David was a loner, having the personal power and charisma of an alpha without the responsibilities. Technically speaking, I was his pack, a mutually beneficial agreement on paper that helped prevent David from being fired and gave me the opportunity to get my insurance at a devastatingly cheap rate. That was the extent of our relationship, but I knew he used me to keep Were women from insinuating themselves into his life.
My gaze landed on the fat little black book beside his phone. Apparently that didn't slow him down when it came to dating. Dang, he needed a rubber band to keep the thing shut.
"Better?" I said, and David looked up. His beautifully deep brown eyes were wide with a slow fear, looking wrong on him. He had a wonderfully trim body made for running, disguised under the comfortable suit. Clearly he had been on his way to the office when whatever threw him into such a tizzy happened, and it worried me that something could shake him like this. David was the most stable person I knew.
His shoes under the coffee table shone, and he was clean-shaven, not even a hint of black stubble marring his sun-darkened, somewhat rough skin. I'd seen him in a floor-length duster and dilapidated hat once while he had been stalking me, and he had looked like Van Helsing; his luscious black hair was long and wavy, and his thick eyebrows made a nice statement. He had about the same amount of confidence of the fictional character, too, but right now it was tempered with worry and distraction.
"No," he said, his low voice penetrating. "I think I'm killing my girlfriends."
Kisten turned, and I held up a hand to forestall the vampire from saying anything stupid. David was nothing if not levelheaded, and as an insurance adjustor he was quick, savvy, and hard to surprise. If he thought he was killing his girlfriends, then there was a reason for it.
"I'm listening," I said from beside him, and David took a slow breath, forcing himself to sit upright, if still on the edge of the couch.
"I was trying to find a date for this weekend," he started, glancing at Kisten.
"For the full moon?" Kisten interrupted, earning both my and David's annoyance.
"The full moon isn't until Monday," the Were said. "And I'm not a college Werejockey high on bane crashing your bar. I have as much control over myself on a full moon as you do."
Obviously it was a sore spot, and Kisten raised a placating hand. "Sorry."
The tension in the room eased, and David's haunted eyes went to his address book by the phone. "Serena called me last night, asking me if I had the flu." He looked up at me, then away. "Which I thought strange since it's summer, but then I called Kally to see if she was free, and she asked me the same thing."
Kisten chuckled. "You dated two women in one weekend?"
David's brow creased. "No, they were a week apart. So I called a few other women, seeing as I hadn't heard from any of them in almost a month."
"In high demand are you, Mr. Peabody?"
"Kisten," I muttered, not liking the reference to the old cartoon. "Stop it." David's cat was peering at me from the top of the stairway. I didn't even try to coax it down, depressed.
David wasn't cowed at all by the living vampire. Not here in his own apartment. "Yes," he said belligerently. "I am, actually. You want to wait on the veranda?"
Kisten raised a hand in a gesture of "whatever," but I had no trouble believing that the attractive, mid-thirties Were had women calling him for dates. David and I were comfortable leaving our relationship at the business level, though I found it mildly irksome that he had issues with the different-species thing. But as long as he respected me as a person, I was willing to let him miss out on a good slice of the female population. His loss.
"Apart from Serena and Kally, I couldn't reach one." His eyes went to his black book as if it were possessed. "None of them."
"So you think they're dead?" I questioned, not seeing the reason for the jump of thought.
David's eyes were haunted. "I've been having really weird dreams about them," he said. "My girlfriends, I mean. I'm waking up in my own bed clean and rested, not mud-caked and naked in the park, so I never gave them much thought, but now..."
Kisten chuckled, and I started wishing I'd left him in the car. "They're avoiding you, wolfman," the vampire said, and David pulled himself straight, ire giving him strength.
"They're gone," he muttered.
I watched warily, knowing that Kisten was too savvy to push him too far, but David was erratic right now.
"Either they don't answer their phone or their roommates don't know where they are." His eyes slipped to mine, haunted. "Those are the ones that I'm worried about. The ones I couldn't reach."
"Six women," Kisten said, now standing at the window wall that looked out on a small patio. "That's not bad. Half of them probably moved."
"In a month and a half?" David said caustically. Then, as if galvanized by the admission, he went to the kitchen, his pace fast with nervous energy.
My eyebrows rose. David dated six women in as many weeks? Weres weren't any more randy than the rest of the population, but remembering his reluctance to settle down and start a pack, I decided it probably wasn't that he couldn't keep a girlfriend but rather that he was content playing the field. Playing the pro field. Jeez, David.
"They're missing," he said, standing in his kitchen as if having forgotten why he went in there. "I think... I think I'm blanking out and killing them."
My gut clenched at the lost sound of his voice. He really believed he was killing these women.
"Well, there you go," Kisten said. "Someone found out you're a player and called the rest. You've been stung, Mr. Peabody." He chuckled. "Time to start a new black book."
David looked insulted, and I thought Kisten was being unusually insensitive. Maybe he was jealous. "You know what?" I said, spinning to Kisten. "You need to shut up."
"Hey, I'm just saying - "
David jerked as if remembering why he had gone into the kitchen, popping open a tin of cat food and shaking it onto a plate before setting it on the floor. "Rachel, would you refuse to talk to a man you'd slept with, even if you were mad at him?"
My eyebrows rose. He hadn't just dated six women in six weeks, he'd slept with them, too? "Uh..." I stammered. "No. I'd want to give him a piece of my mind at the very least."
Head lowered, David nodded. "They're missing," he said. "I'm killing them. I know it."
"David," I protested, seeing a hint of concern on Kisten's face, "Weres don't black out and kill people. If they did, they would've been hunted into extinction hundreds of years ago by the rest of Inderland. There's got to be another reason they aren't talking to you."
"Because I killed them," David whispered, hunched over the counter.
My gaze drifted to the ticking wall clock. Two-fifteen. I'd missed my class. "It doesn't add up," I said, coming to sit at a barstool. "Do you want me to have Ivy track them down? She's good at finding people."
Looking relieved, he nodded. Ivy could find anyone, given time. She had been retrieving abducted vamps and humans from illegal blood houses and jealous exes since leaving the I.S. It made my familiar rescues look vapid, but we each had our own talents.
My motions shifting the stiff barstool back and forth slowed. Since I was here, I ought to see about taking the focus home with me. Anyone who cared to look it up would know that I belonged to David's pack. Being a loner and trained to react to violence, David was a hard target. Anyone he worked with, though...
"Oh, shit," I said, then put a hand to my mouth, realizing I'd said it aloud. Both Kisten and David stared at me. "Uh David, did you tell your dates about the focus?"
His confusion turned to a soft anger. "No," he said forcefully.
Kisten glowered at the smaller man. "You mean to tell me you nipped six women in six weeks, and you never showed them the focus to impress them?"
David's jaw clenched. "I don't need to lure women to my bed. I ask them, and if they're willing, they come. Showing them wouldn't have impressed them anyway. They're human."
I pulled my elbows off the counter, my face warming in indignation. "You date humans? You won't date a witch because you don't believe in mixed-species parings, but you'll sleep around with humans? You big fat hypocrite!"
David pleaded with me with his eyes. "If I dated a Were woman, she'd want to be a part of my pack. We've been over this before. And since Weres originally came from humans - "
My eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I got it," I said, not liking it. Weres came from humans same as vamps, but unlike becoming a vamp, the only way to become a Were was to be born one.
Usually.
My thoughts zinged back to yesterday morning and being woken by a demon tearing my church apart looking for the focus. Oh-h-h-h, shit, I thought, remembering to keep my mouth shut this time. Missing girlfriends. Three unidentified bodies in the morgue: athletic, professional, and all with a similar look. They were brought in as Weres, but if what I thought happened had happened, they wouldn't be in the Were database but the human. Suicides from last month's full moon.
"David, I'm so sorry," I whispered, and Kisten and David stared at me.
"What?" David said, wary, not distraught.
I looked helplessly at him. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I shouldn't have given it to you. I didn't know all you had to do was have it in your possession. I never would have given it to you if I did." He looked blank at me, and, feeling nauseous, I added, "I think I know where your girlfriends are. It's my fault, not yours."
David shook his head. "Give me what?"
"The focus," I said, my face wrinkled in pity. "I think... it turned your girlfriends."
His face went ashen, and he put a hand to the counter. "Where are they?" he breathed.
I swallowed hard. "The city morgue."
Chapter Nine
Two trips to the morgue in as many days, I thought, hoping I wasn't starting a pattern. My gardening sneakers were silent on the cement; David's steps beside and a little behind me were heavy with a deep depression. Kisten was behind him, and the vampire's obvious unease would have been funny if we weren't trooping down here to identify three Jane Wolfs.
The focus was in my bag now, silent and quiescent this far from the full moon. It still held the chill from David's freezer and made a cold spot against me. Experience said that next Monday it would have shifted from a bone statue of a woman's face to a silver-sheened wolf's muzzle, dripping saliva and making a high-pitched squeal only pixies could hear. I have to get rid of this thing. Maybe I could use it to pay off one of my demon marks. But if Newt or Al sold it in turn to someone else and it started an Inderland power struggle, I'd feel responsible.
We reached the end of the stairway, and with the two men trailing behind me I turned smartly to the right and followed the arrows to the double doors. "Hi, Iceman," I said, smacking the left side of the swinging door open and striding in as if I owned the place.
The young man sat up, pulling his feet from his desk. "Ms. Morgan," he said. "Holy cow, you gave me a start."
Kisten slunk in after me, eyes darting everywhere. "Come here often?" he asked when the kid behind the desk put down his handheld game and stood.
"All the time," I quipped, extending my hand to meet Iceman's grip. "Don't you?"
"No."
Iceman's attention flicked from me to Kisten, finally lingering on David, standing with his hands at his sides. His enthusiasm to see me dimmed as he realized we were here to identify someone. "Oh, uh, hey," he said, his hand slipping from mine, "It's great to see you, but I can't let you in there unless you have someone from the I.S. or the FIB with you." He winced. "Sorry."
"Detective Glenn is on his way," I said, feeling bouncy for some reason. Sure, I was here to identify a corpse or three, but I knew someone Kisten didn't, and that didn't happen often.
Relief turned him back into a young kid who should be serving smoothies at the mall, not morgue minding. "Good," he said. "You're welcome to sit on a gurney while you wait."
I glanced at the empty gurney against the wall. "Ah, I think I'll stand," I said. "This is Kisten Felps," I added, then turned to David. "And David Hue."
David pulled himself together and, finding a professional air, came forward with his hand extended. "Pleasure to meet you," he said, rocking back as soon as their handshake ended. "How... how many Jane Wolfs do you get on average a month?"
His voice carried a hint of panic, and Iceman went closed, sitting back behind his desk. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hue. I really shouldn't - "
David held up a hand and turned away, head bowed in worry. My good mood vanished. A sharp cadence of hard-soled shoes in the outer hallway brought our attentions up, and I puffed in relief when Glenn's powerfully built frame came through the door, his thick hand holding the heavy metal easy and his dark skin and pink fingernails standing out against the stark whiteness of the chipped paint. He was in his usual coat and tie, the butt of a pistol showing past his jacket. Angling himself, he slipped in almost sideways so he wouldn't have to open the door entirely.
"Rachel," he said as the door swung shut. His gaze lit on David and Kisten, eyebrows settling into a closed cast of FIB officialness. David's confidence had degraded into depression, and Kisten was nervous. I was getting the distinct impression he didn't like it down here.
"Hi, Glenn," I said, conscious of my less-than-professional appearance in sneakers, faded green T-shirt, and dirt-marked jeans. "Thanks for letting me get you out from behind your desk."
"You said it was about the Jane Wolfs. How could I refuse?"
David's jaw tightened. The reaction wasn't missed by Glenn, and his gaze softened, now that he understood why David was here. I could feel Kisten behind me, and I turned to him. "Glenn, this is Kisten Felps," I said, but Kisten had already pushed forward, smiling with his lips closed.
"We've met," Kisten said, grasping Glenn's hand and giving it a firm shake. "Well, in a manner of speaking. You were the one that downed the waitstaff at Piscary's last year."
"Using Rachel's splat gun," Glenn said, suddenly nervous. "I didn't..."
Kisten released his hand and stepped away. "No, you didn't tag me. But I saw you during the wrap-up. Good shooting. Accuracy is hard to find when your life is on the line."
Glenn smiled to show his flat, even teeth. He was the only FIB guy I knew besides his dad who could talk to a vamp without fear and knew to bring breakfast when knocking on a witch's door at noon. "No hard feelings?" Glenn asked.
Shrugging, Kisten turned to the double doors leading to the hallway. "We all do what we have to do. It's only on our days off we get to be ourselves."
You aren't kidding, I thought, wondering what kind of a mess Kisten was going to find himself in if Piscary got out. I wasn't the only one the master vampire had unfinished business with. And while Piscary could hurt Kisten while he was still in prison, I had a feeling that the undead vampire enjoyed drawing out the fear of the unknown. He might forgive Kisten for giving me Egyptian embalming fluid to incapacitate him, seeing the betrayal as the act of an unruly, rebellious child. Maybe. Me, he was just ticked at.
His shoes scuffing, David came forward. "David. David Hue," he said, eyes pinched. "Can we please get this over with? "
Glenn shook his hand, his expressive face turning to a professional detachment I knew he used so he could sleep at night. "Of course, Mr. Hue," he said. The FIB detective glanced at Iceman, and the college kid tossed him the Bite-Me-Betty doll with the key. Catching it, the rims of the upright, meticulous FIB officer's ears darkened in embarrassment.
"Rachel?" Kisten murmured as we all headed that way. "Ah, if you can get a ride home with David, I need to fly on out of here."
I stopped. Glenn turned from holding the door open for me. Through it I could see the comfortable seating arrangement and Iceman's work partner puttering around with a clipboard, peering over his glasses at us. Kisten is afraid of the dead?
"Kisten..." I coaxed, not believing it. I had wanted to stop at The Big Cherry on the way home to pick up Glenn's tomato fix, at a charm shop for the lilac wine, and just about anywhere for a box of birthday candles for me in the hopes that a cake might be in my future. But Kisten backed up a step.
"Really," he said. "I have to go. There's some rare cheese coming in today, and if I'm not there to sign for it, I'll have to go to the post office and pick it up."
Rare cheese, my ass. And I hate not having my own car. Hip cocked, I took a breath to complain, but David interrupted with an easy, "I'll get you home, Rachel."
Kisten's eyes were pleading. Giving up, I muttered, "Go on. I'll call you later."
He jiggled on his feet, his usual poise gone to make him look charmingly vulnerable. Leaning in, he gave me a quick kiss on my neck. "Thanks, love," he whispered. His hand on my shoulder tightened, and with a quick hint of teeth he sent a spike of desire to my core.
"Stop that," I whispered, gently pushing him away and feeling myself flush.
Grinning, he retreated. With a self-assured nod to the rest of the men, he stuck his hands into his pockets and sauntered out.
Lord help me, I thought, pulling my hand down from my neck. I had the feeling he'd just used me to restore his confidence. Sure, he was afraid of the dead, but I was his girlfriend, and apparently proving it in front of three other guys had reaffirmed his masculinity. Whatever.
My face was still warm when Glenn cleared his throat. "What?" I muttered as I entered before him. "He's my boyfriend."
"Mmmm-hmm," he murmured back, shaking the Bite-Me-Betty doll to make the key jingle. The living vamp intern checking tags left at Glenn's look. It was just us and whatever newly dead vamps were cooling their heels until dark.
David was cracking his knuckles when Glenn stopped beside a drawer, eyeing the Were. "You think you know these women?" he said, and I bristled. There had been more than a hint of distrust, his need to have someone to blame for their deaths, coming to the fore.
"Yes," I interjected before David could open his mouth. "He has a couple of girlfriends he can't reach, and since he was holding something for me that the right person would kill to get, we thought it better to check it out so we could sleep at night."
David seemed relieved at my explanation, but Glenn wasn't happy. "Rachel," he said as his short fingers worked the key, but he didn't open the drawer. "They are Weres. Technically this isn't a FIB matter. If someone calls foul, I could be in a lot of trouble."
I could sense David's rising fear and anticipation, and I wondered if that was why Kisten had left. Though not directed at him, it would have pushed his buttons. "Just open the drawer," I said, starting to get mad. "You really think I should bring Denon into this? He'd have David in the tower and under a spotlight. And besides," I said, praying I was wrong, "if I'm right, then this is a FIB matter."
Glenn's brown eyes narrowed, and with David's brow pinched, the FIB detective opened the drawer. I glanced down at the harsh sound of the bag opening, seeing the pretty woman in a new light, imagining her fear and the pain of turning into a wolf and not having a clue. God, she must have thought she'd been dying.
"That's Elaine," David breathed, and I took his arm as his balance wobbled. Glenn tripped into detective mode, his gaze bright and his stance stiffer, more threatening. I told him to be quiet with my eyes. His questions could wait. We had two more Pandora boxes to open.
"God, I'm sorry, David," I said softly, wishing Glenn would shut the drawer.
As if hearing my unspoken request, he slowly slid Elaine away.
David's face was pale, and I had to remind myself that though he could take care of himself and was no slouch when it came to confidence, these were women he had known intimately. "Show me the next one," he said, the thickening scent of musk in the closed air.
Glenn ripped a jotted note from his daily planner and tucked it in behind the ID card before going to the next. My stomach was in knots. This wasn't looking good. Not only was there the problem that David was involved in the accidental deaths of three women, but now I was going to have to explain to the FIB why they had human birth certificates.
Crap on toast. How in hell was I going to handle this? Every master vamp in the country, every alpha with delusions of grandeur, was going to be after me, the former to destroy the focus, the latter to possess it. Pretending to throw it off the Mackinac Bridge wasn't going to work a second time. Maybe... maybe it had been a fluke. Maybe Elaine had been a Were and she'd only told David she was human, knowing he wouldn't date a bitch.
Glenn unlocked the second drawer, and when we were arranged, he unzipped the bag. I watched David instead of Glenn. I knew the answer when his eyes closed and his hand trembled.
"Felicia," he whispered. "Felicia Borden." He reached to touch her, his trembling fingers brushing her brown hair. "I'm sorry, Felicia. I didn't know. I'm so sorry. What... what did you do to yourself?"
His voice cracked, and I darted a glance at Glenn. The FIB officer nodded. David was ready to lose it. We had better get the hard part over fast.
"Come on, David," I soothed, taking his arm and pulling him a step back. "One more."
David broke his gaze from her, and Glenn swiftly shut the drawer with the sound of scraping metal. The only one left was the woman who had been hit by a train. It probably hadn't been a suicide. Most likely she had snapped under the strain of a first transformation without pain relief or understanding, blindly fleeing in search of an answer. Or perhaps she had been lost in the glories of her newfound freedom and had misjudged her new capabilities. I almost hoped it was the latter, tragic though it would be. I didn't like the idea that she had gone insane. It would only mean that much more guilt for David.
I stood with David to the right of the last drawer. Realizing he was holding his breath, I slipped my hand into his. It was cool and dry. I think he was starting to go into shock.
Glenn opened the last drawer reluctantly, clearly not eager to show David the ruin of the woman's body.
"Oh, God," David moaned, turning away.
My eyes pricking with tears and feeling helpless, I put my arm over his shoulder and led him to the informal seating area where relatives waited for their kin to awaken. His back was hunched, and he moved without thought, grasping the back of a chair before falling into it.
He slipped out from under me, and I stood over him as he put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in to his hands. "I didn't mean it to happen," he said, his voice sounding dead. "It's not supposed to happen. It's not supposed to happen!"
Glenn had shut the last drawer and was making his way to us with an aggressive FIB swagger. "Back off," I warned him. "I see where you're going, but he didn't kill those women."
"Then why is he convincing himself he didn't?"
"David is an insurance adjustor, not a killer. You said it yourself - they were suicides."
David made a harsh sound of inner pain. Turning to him, I touched on his shoulder. "Ah, hell. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
He didn't lookup as he said flatly, "They were all alone. They had no one to help them, to tell them what to expect. That the pain would go away." His head rose, and he had tears in his eyes. "They went through that alone, and it was my fault. I could have helped them. They would have survived if I had been there."
"David..." I started, but his face abruptly lost its expression, and he rose.
"I have to go," he stammered. "I have to call Serena and Kally."
"A moment, Mr. Hue," Glenn said firmly, and I gave him a dirty look.
David's face was white, and his small but powerful build was tense. "I have to call Serena and Kally!" he exclaimed, and Iceman peeked in past the door.
My hands out in placation, I insinuated myself between Glenn and the distressed Were. "David," I soothed, gently resting my hand on his arm, "they'll be okay. It's a week before the full moon." I turned to Glenn, my voice hardening. "And I told you to back off."
His eyes narrowed at my harsh tone, but though he was the FIB's Inderland specialist, I was an Inderlander. "Back off!" I insisted, then lowered my voice lest I wake someone up. "This is my friend, and you will cut him some slack, or so help me, Glenn, I'll show you what a mean, mad witch is capable of."
Glenn clenched his jaw. I glared right back at him. I'd never pulled my magic on him before, but we had come down here to answer the question of whether the focus was turning humans into Weres, not submit to a homicide charge.
"David," I said, eyes on Glenn, "sit down. Detective Glenn has a few questions." God, I hope I have some answers.
Both men relaxed, and after Iceman let the door shut behind him, I sat as well and crossed my legs as if I were the hostess of this nice little party. David resumed his seat, but Glenn continued to stand and glower down at me. Fine. They were his wrinkles.
Then I started thinking. Crap, I wasn't smart enough to come up with a convincing lie. I'd have to tell him the truth. I hated that. Wincing, I pulled my gaze to Glenn's. "Hey... uh," I stammered. "Can you keep a secret?" I thought of the sleeping vamps, glad the drawers were soundproof. Too bad they weren't smellproof.
Glenn exhaled as if deflating, his attitude changing from that of an aggressive, stymied FIB officer to the neighborhood cop on the corner. "Since it's you, Rachel, I'll listen. For awhile."
Okay, that was fair, since I had threatened to bop him with my magic. I glanced at David, and seeing him leaving it all to me, I clasped my hands in my lap. "The reason you can't find those women in the database is because they aren't in the Inderland files."
Glenn's eyebrows rose.
"They're in the human files," I said, almost able to hear the bolts sliding - my life shifting to a new, probably shorter, path.
The fabric of Glenn's suit made a soft sound as he turned. "Human? But - "
"They came in as Weres, yes," I finished. I pulled my shoulder bag to my front to sit on my lap, but I wasn't going to tell him I had the focus. He'd probably insist on taking it, and when I refused, he'd get all testosterone-laden and then I'd get all witchy. Best to avoid it. I liked Glenn, and every time I flexed my magic, I usually lost a friend.
From beside me came David's emotionless voice. "I turned them. I didn't mean to." His head came back up. "Believe me, I didn't want this to happen. I didn't think it could happen."
"It can't," Glenn said, anger coloring his confusion. "If this is your idea of a joke - "
He didn't believe me. "Don't you think I could come up with a better story if I was jerking your chain?" I said. "I have rent to make, and I'm not going to waste my day down here in the morgue." I glanced over the sterile surrounding's. "As nice as it is down here."
The large man frowned. "Humans can't be turned into Weres. It's a fact."
"'And forty years ago humans believed it was a fact that there were no vampires or pixies. What about fairy tales?" I said. "In the old ones, a bite could make a Were. Well, they're true, and the proof is that you will find those women in the human database."
But Glenn's face said he wasn't buying it.
Head drooping, I said to the floor, "See, there's this demon-cursed statue." God, it sounds so lame. "I gave it to David to hold for me because he's a Were and Jenks said it was giving him a headache. It's bad magic, Glenn. Whoever has it has the ability to turn a human into a Were. The Weres want it, and the vamps will kill anyone to destroy it to maintain the balance of Inderland power." I brought my gaze up, and though he was listening, I could tell he wasn't ready to give up his secure belief. "I had assumed there was some sort of additional ritual needed to turn a human." Feeing guilty, I touched David's arm. "Apparently not."
"You bit them?" Glenn accused.
"I slept with them." David's voice had a defensive edge. "I have to go. I have to call Serena and Kally."
Glenn's hand fell to rest on the butt of his weapon. I would have taken offense, but I didn't think he realized it.
"Look," I said, exasperated, "remember this May when the riots broke out in the mall between the vamps and the Weres?" Glenn nodded, and I scooted to the front of my chair, not liking his hand on his weapon. "Well, it was because three Were packs thought I had this Were artifact and they were trying to flush me out."
His eyes widened. He was starting to believe.
"And if it gets out that it didn't go over the Mackinac Bridge but is in Cincinnati turning women into Weres, I'm going to be a dead witch walking." I hesitated. "Again."
The FIB officer exhaled long and slow, but I couldn't tell what he was thinking. "That's why Mr. Ray's secretary was murdered, isn't it?" he said, gesturing behind him to the drawers.
"Probably," I said in a small voice, "But David didn't do it." Damn it. Denon was right. Her demise was sort of my fault. Miserable, I pulled my gaze from the drawer. It landed on David, slumped and struggling to come to grips with the deaths of three women. If this got out, we both were dead. My attention rose to Glenn.
"You're not going to tell anyone, right?" I asked. "You have to keep this quiet. Tell the next of kin they died in an accident."
Glenn shook his head. "I'll keep it as quiet as I can," he said, coming forward to stand in front of David. "But I'm going to get this on paper. Mr. Hue?" he said respectfully. "Would you come down with me to the office so we can fill out some paperwork?"
Crap. I slumped into the cushy chair, making a puff of incense-scented air billow around me. "You aren't arresting him, are you?" I asked, and David went whiter.
"No. Just taking a statement. For his protection. If you've told me the truth" - he stressed it as if I hadn't - "you don't have anything to worry about. You or Mr. Hue."
I'd told the truth, but somehow I wasn't reassured. I knew I wore a sour expression as I rose to stand beside David. "You want me to come with you?" I asked, wondering if I might trade my moving out of the church and away from Ivy for some pro bono lawyer work from Skimmer.
The Were nodded, looking shaken but okay in his suit and tie. "It's all right, Rachel. I know all about forms." Grimacing with a tired acceptance, he looked to Glenn. "If we stop at my house, I can give you the names and addresses of everyone I've slept with since taking possession of that... thing."
Thick lips pursed, Glenn ran a hand over his closely cut hair. "Just how many women have you had sex with in the last two months, Mr. Hue?"
David reddened. "Six, I think. I need my address book to be sure."
Glenn made a small noise, and I could almost see him grant the attractive man more respect. God, men are pigs.
"I'm going to take the bus home," I said, wanting to be alone - not to mention avoid a trip to the FIB. Jeez, and they were just starting to like me, too.
"It's no problem to drop you off," Glenn offered. "I can take the artifact into custody, too. No reason for you to be in danger."
My eyebrows rose, and I kept my eyes off my shoulder bag. "It's in the mail system," I lied, not wanting to go into why I wasn't going to give it to him, "Soon as it hits my mailbox, I'll call you." Lie, lie, li-i-i-i-ie, he he.
Glenn's brown eyes narrowed, and I felt myself warm. David said nothing, knowing where it was and apparently agreeing with my decision. Gathering myself, I adjusted the strap to my shoulder bag and headed for the door. This hadn't gone well at all. Maybe I could sell it online and donate the proceeds to the war relief fund, 'cause there was going to be a war.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Hue," Glenn was saying behind me. "I know this is hard, but the families of those women will be grateful to know what has happened."
"Don't tell them I turned their daughters," David whispered. "I'll do it. Give me that."
I glanced behind me as I pushed open the swinging doors. Glenn was hunched in sympathy as he walked beside the smaller man. I searched my feelings and decided it wasn't an act. "I'll do the best I can," Glenn said, his gaze rising to mine for a moment.
Yeah, I'd heard that before. What it meant was he'd do his best as long as it didn't mean bending his ruler-up-his-ass rules.
Stupid-ass, upright, uptight FIB detective, I thought. What hurt would it do to bury this from the public? Then I blew out my frustration. I was starting to think like Trent. This was a potential Inderland power struggle, though, not an illegal genetic lab. But women had died, and I wanted him to lie to their families about how and why.
We slowed when Glenn went to talk to Iceman, and David halted beside me. His few wrinkles were deepened by stress, and he looked terrible. "I'm so sorry, David," I whispered.
"It's not your fault," he said, but I felt like it was.
Glenn joined us and gestured David to walk out before us. The FIB officer took hold of my upper arm, keeping my steps slow until David was several paces ahead of us.
"Who did you get the statue from?" he asked as we started up the stairway.
I looked at his dark fingers encircling my arm, remembering that thick folder he had given me listing Nick's crimes. Shaky, I reached for the filthy banister and gripped it as I rose. "Tell me you'll do your damnedest to keep this locked in a drawer," I asked. "All of it."
"Tell me, Rachel," he threatened, not giving an inch.
Exhaling, I watched David's slumped back. "Nick," I said, seeing no point in not telling him. The thief was playing dead, so there was no reason for Glenn to go looking for him.
His entire posture easing, Glenn nodded. "Okay," he said. "Now I believe you."
