Even Vampires Get the Blues (18 page)

I raised my eyebrows at Paen, who was listening in on Clare's phone. He nodded.

“Yes, that would be fine.”

We set an appointment time for early afternoon, and I hung up after reassuring him once again that we were on the case, and hoped to have results in the very near future.

“In other words, you lied to him,” Clare said, frowning at me. White clouds suddenly appeared to darken the sun.

“I did not lie. I can't lie, remember? We
are
on the case, and I fervently hope and pray we'll have results in the near future. And stop clouding up the sky. We get little enough sun here, I'd like to enjoy it while I can.” I paused a moment, glancing at Paen. “I can still go out in the sun, right? Beloveds don't burn easily, do they?”

“No. I told you—nothing other than your mortality has changed.”

“Whew. I don't think I could do without sunlight. Let's go back a couple of minutes—why is Pilar after your blood now?” I asked Paen.

“I have no idea. Perhaps he wasn't really after me?”

A little chill sent goose bumps down my arms. “In which case, it means he's willing to kill anyone in order to get that statue.”

“Why don't we take a look at it?” Paen suggested. “You said it's locked in a safe?”

“Mila has it in her office downstairs.”

“I'll get it,” Clare said, jumping up. “Mila knows me.”

“As your sworn bodyguard, I will assist you,” Finn said, following her to the door.

She cast a hesitant glance at the window. The sun was still shining brightly. “You don't have to. It's not that far.”

“No, no, I want to. It's my duty.”

“But I don't want you to get burned . . .”

“It would be worth it. Come on, let's go.” Finn pushed her toward the door.

She paused a moment, then gave in. “All right, but we'll go the back way. There's less outdoor time that way.”

I gnawed my lip as the door closed behind them. “You think it's OK to let them go off on their own with a murderous Pilar lurking around?”

“Yes. Finn will let me know if he needs help.” Paen didn't look the least bit concerned. It went a long way to calming my jangling nerves.

“I suppose so. I don't know why he was so anxious to go with her. It's just downstairs . . . oh. The sex shop?”

He smiled. “That would be my guess.”

I tipped my head as I looked at him with a critical eye. “You should do that more often.”

“Reveal to you the unsavory side to my brothers?”

“No. Smile. It looks good on you. It makes me go all girly inside when you smile.”

His smile faded, his eyes turning dark. “Sam, I don't like this.”

“You don't like me complimenting you?”

“No, I don't like you falling in love with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and loomed over me, clearly trying to intimidate me.

“I never said I was falling in love with you.”

“You didn't deny it, either.”

Despite my tall parents' genes, I'm not a tall person, which leaves me a tad bit resentful when I'm loomed over. I stood up and faced him. “You want me to do something elfy to you?”

He frowned. “You're changing the subject.”

“Yes, of course I am. I learned it from you. You want me to or not?”

“Do what? Curse me?”

“No. This.” I leaned against him, closing my eyes, breathing deeply as I allowed my soul and his to
merge. We were still Paen and Sam, but now we were one being made up of two. As we bonded into something new, I reached out with my inner elf, searching for the entry point. I found it and pushed through, pulling Paen with me, causing the world to shift slightly. It was as if everything had been ever so minutely out of focus before, but now everything was sharp and correct. “Welcome to the beyond.”

“Beyond?” Paen asked, looking around my office. “The shadow world of the elves?”

“Well . . . kind of. Elves live here, but so do others. Faeries, for one.”

His gaze touched the familiar objects in the office. “It doesn't look different.”

I smiled. “My mother chose this building for our office. She's the original feng shui-er. Or rather, the first to do the elf version of it. She chose this location because it is in what the elves call a founded place—one fundamental to the world, rich in the essence of the beyond. Sympathetic to elfkind, in other words.”

“Ah. I wondered why you chose Scotland to live if you needed sunshine. We're not known for our overabundance of sunny weather.” A smile flirted with his lips.

I went all melty inside at that smile, but I tried to keep things light. “Any sunlight is good. It doesn't have to be a gloriously sunny day like today. The reason you don't see anything different in the office is because this building stands on land that is founded, but the area down the block isn't. If you can risk a peek out the window, you'll see the difference.”

Paen used a folder to angle the sun off his face as
he opened a window and poked his head out quickly. A low whistle of surprise followed.

“Pretty freaky, huh?”

“Different. It looks . . . unpleasant. Disjointed. Harsh.”

“Yeah, it does. That's what our world looks like to elves who walk in the beyond.”

Paen closed the window, looking thoughtful. “That would explain why there are so few of them around.”

I nodded. “Only the ones like my mother who are comfortable in the mortal world live outside the beyond. The rest prefer this world, where they can avoid anything upsetting, and stay in founded areas.”

“Understandable.” His lips pursed. “How do we get back?”

I smiled. “Worried I'll leave you here?”

“Hardly.” This close to him, and with my elf senses running amok in their native environment, I could feel every emotion in him. His face held polite interest, but inside him, curiosity was driving him nuts. “I'm merely curious. I had no idea you could bring a non-elf into this world.”

“I've never been able to before, and yes, I've tried. I think it's because now we're bound together.” I slowly backed up a step, pulling my soul from his, shifting us back into our reality.

“Interesting,” he said. “You said elves are not the only ones who can enter the beyond?”

“Any Fae being can. Others as well—mages, for instance, can, or so I've been told. I've never seen any there, but to be honest, I've only been there a couple
of times. I prefer this version of the world. Now, about your need to smile more . . . maybe you just need a massive influx of kissing?”

“We weren't talking about me smiling—we were talking about you falling in love with me, and why it's a bad idea,” he said, not moving when I leaned into him and gave his chin a flirtatious slurp.

“No, we weren't. I haven't said one single word about being in love with you. Kiss me, dammit!”

“Sam—” Paen stopped me from lunging at him. I was teasing him, but I could see in his eyes—I could
feel
inside him—that he wasn't responding. “I'm quite serious. I can't allow you to continue down this path.”

“You can't
allow
me . . .” I stopped, disbelief twisting painfully in my heart. “Oh. I see how it is. You have your soul, so you have no further need for me. I was just a means to an end, wasn't I?”

I pulled away, turning my back on him so he wouldn't see the tears that suddenly made it difficult to see. I felt betrayed, hurt, used. I knew that was unfair since he'd made it clear he hadn't been looking for a serious relationship, yet I felt like so much had changed in the last few hours. After what we'd been through together, how could he still want to close me out?

“I never asked you to redeem my soul for me.” Paen's voice was filled with regret, but nothing else. “I am grateful than you did, more grateful than I can possibly express to you, but gratitude is—”

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to, I could hear the words as if he had spoken them. Gratitude was all he was prepared to offer me.

He was right. I knew that. But it still cut me to the bone that my newborn feelings for him were unrequited.

“Fine,” I said, blinking rapidly to disperse the tears. I wanted to say something more, something sharp that would make him hurt the way he hurt me, but two things held me back—it wasn't a good business practice to hurt clients, and I couldn't hurt him even if I wanted to. That realization struck me like a wrecking ball—I wasn't falling in love with him; I'd gone right ahead and done it. At some point in the last few hours I'd gone from self-sufficient Sam, to needy, dependent Sam . . . and the man to whom I'd offered my heart didn't want it.

Grief swamped me, so strong that I could taste its bitterness on my tongue.

“Sam,” Paen said, taking a step closer to me. “I never meant for you to be hurt. I thought you understood the sort of relationship I could offer—”

Voices outside the door interrupted him before he could say something that would have me bursting into tears. Clare and Finn came into the room, laughing, Finn holding the shoebox containing the statue, while Clare, with a guilty look cast my way, hustled a bag from Mila's shop into a drawer in her desk.

“We got the statue. We had a peek at it in Mila's office—it doesn't look important at all to me,” Clare said, the cheerful smile on her face fading when she looked first at Paen, then me. “Sam? What's wrong? Are you crying?”

“No, of course not,” I said, desperately trying to blink back the tears as I frowned out the window.

“Yes you are, you're crying!” She rounded on Paen, a fierce expression on her face. “What did you do to her?”

“Me?” Paen asked, looking surprised. The boob. “I haven't done anything—”

“Leave him alone, Clare.” I managed to swallow the lump of pain in my throat and turned to face the room with what I prayed was a placid smile. “It's nothing important.”

“It is so important if he's made you cry,” she said, looking militant as only an outraged faery can. She turned back to Paen with narrowed eyes. “What did you do to my cousin?”

“You didn't—Paen, tell me you didn't start spouting that rubbish about not needing any woman,” Finn said, looking closely at him. “Oh, Christ, you did. When the hell will you learn—”

“This is none of your business,” Paen interrupted, his eyes starting to flash blackened silver.

Finn took a position right in Paen's face, clearly furious at his brother. “It is when you're hurting the very same woman who saved your bloody soul for you!” he shouted.

“Guys, it really isn't—” I started to say.

“I never
asked
her to save my bloody soul!” Paen roared at his brother. The noise startled us all into silence for a moment. Everyone looked away as I took the shoebox from Finn and pulled out the statue.

“That was fun, but we have more important matters at hand than a broken heart,” I said, setting the statue on my desk.

Clare gasped. “He broke your heart after you redeemed—”

“Enough,” I said loudly, giving my cousin a warning look. “Can we move on, please? Anyone have
any idea why this statue is so important that someone is trying to kill for it?”

Four pairs of eyes turned to the statue.

“It's rather attractive, in a cheap knockoff sort of way,” Clare said, her head tipped to the side as she pondered the statue.

Paen picked it up and examined it. It looked just the same as it did the first time I saw it—a gold statue of a bird, some sort of stylized, vaguely falconish bird, with a cruel curved beak, claws wrapped around a stick of wood, the bottom of it flat, adorned with a crude
MADE IN TAIWAN
stamp.

“It's heavier than it looks,” Paen said, turning it over. “This is brass?”

“I think so. It's certainly not gold.”

“Hmm.” He rapped his knuckles against the back of the statue. “It doesn't sound hollow. Probably it is plaster covered over with a thin veneer of brass. That's a very common technique used by knockoff artists.”

“I wouldn't doubt it. It certainly doesn't look at all valuable. Any bright ideas on what's so important about it?”

Paen shook his head. “None. But I'm hardly an expert on art pieces, other than an interest in the Jilin God.”

“Maybe it's cursed,” Finn suggested, taking the statue from Paen. “Or maybe this isn't really brass. What if it's gold made to look like brass? Or what if there's a valuable jewel or something hidden inside of it?”

“Ooh, I like jewels,” Clare said, peering over Finn's shoulder.

“Could be a secret drawer or something built into it,” Finn said, pressing various parts of the statue.

Paen and I shook our heads in synchronized disagreement. “It's too solid for that,” I said.

“Well, then, your guess is as good as mine,” Finn said, admitting defeat. He handed it to me.

“My guesses aren't particularly good at all.” I avoided looking at Paen, trying my best to ignore the dull ache in the region of my heart. Now was not the time to try to work out my feelings—with someone trying to kill one or more of us, I had to focus on what really mattered.

My broken heart sobbed a lament that was hard to ignore.

“I think you should have an expert examine the statue,” Paen said, giving it a thoughtful look.

“Art expert, you mean?” I asked.

He shook his head. I tried hard to forget how silky his dark curls were as they brushed against my flesh, but the memory refused to be banished. “I was thinking more about that Diviner friend of yours,” he said with a long, unreadable look at me.

I didn't even try to reach out to his mind.

“Jake has already examined it. Kind of. He looked at the box and said that what was in it wasn't touched by evil.”

“He might find more if he could examine the statue himself.”

I thought about that for a few moments. “I suppose it couldn't hurt to ask him, although that's not really the sort of thing a Diviner does.”

Paen glanced at his watch. “I have some estate
business to take care of at home. Will you be all right for a few hours if I leave?”

“Do you mean will I be shot at again by murderous villains who wish to steal my statue?” I risked a quick peek at him. His eyes were clouded and dark. I shrugged. “No idea, but now that I'm Miss Immortality 2006, it doesn't really matter, does it?”

“Sam—”

“I'll be fine,” I said quickly, not wanting him to say anything that might set me off again. “Go do your stuff. I'll take the statue to Jake and see what he has to say about it.”

“What would you like us to do?” Clare asked, waving her hands toward the desk. “Shall we compile a list of historic tombs in Scotland?”

“That would be helpful, although I'd suggest starting with this area first. If Owen Race does, in fact, have the Jilin God, it would likely be somewhere near his house, wouldn't you think?”

“We'll look up the history on his house and family,” Clare said, hurrying over to her computer, snatching up a tulip as an elevenses snack.

“Great, then everyone's got a job,” I said, packing the statue up in its box and stuffing it into my oversized bag. “We can meet back here for dinner, if you all like. Hopefully I'll have information about this statue so that we can figure out who wants it, and why.”

Sam?

The soft brush of his voice in my mind almost brought me to my knees. I stiffened both them and my resolve, snatching up my coat and bag as I headed for the door. “See you all later.”

Paen's voice was soft in my head, filled with regret.
I don't want to leave you feeling this way.

I didn't answer him. There was nothing to say. Well, nothing he wanted to hear. On the bus to the Diviners' House, I thought of quite a few things I'd like to say to him, but my pride kept me from saying them.

“You've been dumped before,” I told myself as I got off the bus and started off the three blocks to my destination. “It stings for a bit, then goes away.”

“Rather like the bite of an annoying insect?” a man asked from behind me. Cold seeped into my skin, leaching all heat from my body.

I spun around and found myself facing the man who had tried to murder Clare and Paen, the same man who shot me, rifled Paen's desk, and menaced me so greatly that even seeing him in broad daylight on a busy Edinburgh street left me chilled and shaken. It was Pilar, and not even the sight of Beppo in cute pinstriped overalls could dilute the sensations of power and menace that rolled off the man. “You're Pilar, aren't you? What do you want with me?”

The man smiled. “In general, or at this moment?”

“Let's start with what you're doing now,” I said, backing up a step.

His smile deepened. “You will come with me now.”

“What do I look like, the world's stupidest person?” I asked, trying to bravado my way out of the situation. He reached for me, but I backed away, toward the road. “You think I'm going to go meekly with you so you can shoot me again? Think again.”

“Mr. Green wishes to see you,” Pilar said, gesturing with one hand. He must have had a taxi waiting, because one obediently pulled up directly behind me.
Beppo watched it all from his perch on Pilar's shoulder, his tail wrapped securely around the man's throat.

“Caspar Green? You know him?” I said, instinctively reaching out my mind for Paen. I stopped just before the words formed, flinching at the pain the action caused. It felt so wrong to not share something with him, but he'd made it perfectly clear that ours was a casual relationship at best. I was completely on my own—not a hideously comforting thought.

“He wishes to see you,” Pilar said again, opening the door to the taxi, making like he was going to shove me in. I had a moment in which I could have resisted him and made an escape, but in the end, I allowed him to have his way. My curiosity got the better of me, and I figured so long as we were in a public venue, I'd be safe from any attempts he made on my life.

Public like a parking lot? my inner self asked. “Fine, but just so you know, I'm armed,” I said, clutching my purse in a manner I hoped indicated some serious firepower.

He merely pulled back one side of his coat to reveal a smaller version of the crossbow he shot me with, and gave me a sardonic smile.

“You didn't have much luck with that earlier.” I ignored the faint pull of pain in my shoulder. “Both Paen and I are still alive and kicking.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Pilar said, his eyes flat and black with denial.

I gawked at him for a moment, glancing at the cabdriver before saying in a low voice, “You're not going to try to make me believe you didn't shoot me a few hours ago, right? Not to mention shoot a few holes into my cousin a day ago? Because there's no way
I'm going to believe it wasn't you who shot Clare—not that many people walk around Edinburgh with a spider monkey on their shoulder—and I know you were on the other end of that crossbow earlier today.”

“You must have me confused with someone else,” was all he said, and sat back, refusing to answer any of the other questions I pelted him with on the ride to Cockburn Street. Beppo tried to make friends with me, but I was too upset and confused to do more than shake his hand when he offered it to me.

Pilar was all but glued to my side as we walked upstairs to apartment 12-C, the building as elegantly quiet as I remembered from my previous visit. The cold that seeped from him was so great, however, I made sure to put as much distance as possible between us.

Caspar opened the door with the same polite smile he had when I last left him. “Good afternoon, Miss Cosse. How nice to see you again.”

“Thanks,” I said, entering the apartment when he waved me in, Pilar and Beppo hot on my heels. “If it's not too rude of me to ask, why are you trying to have my cousin and a friend killed?”

Caspar looked genuinely astonished, I'll give him that. Either he was a hell of an actor, or he hadn't asked Pilar to shoot Clare and Paen full of holes. For a brief moment I wondered if I'd seen my attacker correctly, but one glance at Pilar reaffirmed that he was the man I'd recently stared down at the other end of a crossbow.

“Miss Cosse, I must humbly beg your indulgence. Am I to understand there has been a murder attempt on your life?” Caspar asked, taking my coat.

“Um . . . yeah. Something like that,” I said, deciding
not to say anything about Pilar. If he was acting on Caspar's request, then I wouldn't be telling him anything new. And if Pilar wasn't working with Caspar . . . well, that meant he had his own purpose in wanting us dead, and I'd have to find out just what that was. “I had no idea you and Pilar were . . .
acquainted.
”

Caspar ignored the slight emphasis. “Ah, yes, Pilar and I go back many years. I've found it beneficial to employ him from time to time.”

“Do you always hire someone to bring people to see you? I'd think a simple phone call and invitation would be less of a drain on the old expense sheet.” I took the seat he indicated. The room was just as sunny as it had been earlier, but something in it was still rubbing my warning system the wrong way.

“Indeed, no. But I thought it expedient to have Pilar bring you himself. I know you are a busy woman, and what I have to say to you is of the utmost importance.”

“Shoot,” I said, then flinched. Pilar smiled a particularly unpleasant smile. The temperature in the room dropped a good ten degrees as he took a seat on a chair against the wall. Beppo jumped off onto a bookcase, and started examining a leafy spider fern. I pulled my eyes from the two of them to the pleasantly smiling man who was busy at a sideboard. “Er . . . go ahead.”