Lore vs. The Summoning (11 page)

Gray's head tilted a little to the right. "How'd you manage that? It took us years to track down that information."

My lips thinned because answering him required me to remember something that infuriated me. "Someone set Jim's newest construction project on fire with him still inside. I tracked the Fire witch down and...well...I did a little interrogation." Before I'd dispatched him to Hades. "He told me the order had come from 'on high'."

"Morrígan?"

We both knew the area Fire witches' high priestess fancied herself the human reincarnation of an Irish goddess. I shook my head because it hadn't been her that had given the order. "No, I don't think so. The Fire witch that did the deed only had a phone message and a hefty lump sum in his bank account to go off. He did know where the order originated from."

"The Dungeon," Gray deducted.

"Yup," I said just before a big draw on my orange soda.

"Jim's okay?"

Gray knew my father Jim Denham from when they'd both lived in upstate New York. Jim had worked with Gray's father on construction projects. As far as Gray was concerned, Jim was my biological dad. I'd never corrected his assumption because a blood bond does not a father make. Jim Denham had raised me. To me that meant he
was
my dad.

I nodded grimly. "He had some serious burns that I'm stealthily Healing each time I see him. But it could have been bad if he hadn't hacked his way out before the place fell on him."

Gray's gaze darkened upon hearing how bad it had been. "Did the witch say why the order had been given?"

I shook my head with a grumpy sigh. "He had no idea."

"It was probably something stupid," Gray said sourly. "Like they want to be able to buy the land cheap. Or they thought the building was an eyesore."

"Whatever the reason. Someone is going down for this." Besides the flunky that had done the actual deed. I wasn't going to risk Jim's safety now that the building project had resumed.

Gray's gaze grew determined as he caught my eye. "And lemme guess, you're going it alone."

A smirk curled the left portion of my lips. "You know me so well."

It was his turn to sigh. "You need to be careful, band girl. I...," His eyes slid away after using his personal term of endearment for me, the playful insult he'd coined during our summer working at a video store together because he thought it amusing I'd been a band geek, "...don't like to see you hurt."

"That makes two of us." I set my empty glass in front of me with a light thud. As delicately as I could manage in my linen dress I slid out from behind the table and then stood beside the table for a parting word. "Sorry to drink and run but I've got people to shake down."

Gray had already stood with me. He'd somehow managed to get himself between me and the entrance before I could stop him. This was always the worst part of seeing Grayson Dennison -- the goodbye.

I stood still for whatever he was going to do because it would make this go faster. But when he crowded my personal space I was wishing I'd tried to dart around him. His head lowered toward mine slow enough that I saw it coming. He always tried it and I always avoided it. Just before his mouth reached me I turned my head to the left.
 

The bastard anticipated it.
 

His warm lips pressed against mine. He made a deep sound in the back of his throat that I couldn't read. I was trying my damnedest to emulate a cold fish so he'd give up before I actually let myself feel what he was doing to me. Thankfully he drew back.

"See you later, Lore," he said with an expression that was half frown and half grin.

"Bye." My parting greeting was said with a flippant wave over my shoulder.

I supposed he'd let me off easy. And I wasn't talking about Chet.
 

Oh, I really, really hoped I could go another six months without having to see Gray Dennison again.

CHAPTER NINE

"Miss Denham," a pale-faced man who couldn't have been older than seventeen when he'd been turned greeted me with a bow of his head. "Please, come in."

I hadn't been sure I had the right house. The three-story brick mansion on Commonwealth Avenue had been rumored to be Aiden Bruce's residence in the city. I thought it a little ostentatious for a man that wasn't the lead senator in the undead Senate or one of the three rulers of Boston.
 

Apparently rumor was correct because I'd been ushered directly inside once I'd given my name. Aiden didn't know I was coming. I'd tried to keep it a secret even from myself to keep Kastio from interfering. Even though I was here on business, not pleasure, my guide would have given me a hard time.

The vampire led me through the large foyer and past a curved marble staircase. We entered a room with paintings so massive in scale that they were intimidating, furniture too delicate and old to actually use and a nicely roaring fire that might be a tad too warm for early May.

"Lord Bruce will be with you momentarily," the vampire said politely. "Can I get you anything?"

Briefly I toyed with the idea of asking what they had. Would vampires keep wine around on the off chance a human appeared? Maybe it wasn't an off chance. Maybe Aiden Bruce entertained human guests on a regular basis. He had to get his fix somewhere, didn't he?

"No, thank you," I answered quietly because I was aware of how much the vast room echoed.

He gestured toward the furniture I had no intention of using, "Make yourself comfortable," and then left me alone.

I stood uncomfortably near the fire wondering if this had been a good idea. I'd told myself that I needed information and that I'd owed Aiden information in return. I'd also had the thought of making certain the five women had gotten safely home. After all, he could have easily kept one for himself and no one would have been the wiser.

My eyes drifted to the nearest massive painting, half expecting to see Aiden's silver eyes peeking out from somewhere within it. The composition was of a battle outdoors on a verdant countryside. Cavalry and their sinewy horses dominated much of the painted scene. But nowhere in it was Aiden himself. Perhaps he wasn't as egotistical as I'd imagined.
 

I looked up at the groin-vaulted ceilings that were decorated with intricate exotic floral designs and wondered if he'd commissioned that a century ago or if he'd bought the place as is. It bothered me that I wanted to know if these things were his choices or someone else's. But I did want to know. I wanted a clue as to who Aiden Bruce really was.

I scanned the other paintings lining the walls for silver eyes. A likeness of his face would give me an idea of what he might have looked like prior to being turned.
 
It might be the only way I'd ever truly see him as he was meant to be.

"To what do I owe this most unexpected and immense pleasure, Miss Denham?" Aiden Bruce's buttery voice echoed within the grand space.

He'd caught me across the room peering into the third rank of a group of painted infantrymen. I despised being taken unaware even though it was exceedingly easy for a vampire to do. They could move with inhuman speed, cat-like grace and do it with unnatural silence.

A guilty blush coated my cheeks at being caught scrutinizing the painting. I hoped he wouldn't be able to see my flush from his distance. Discreetly I glanced back at him while considering many responses to his question. He was dressed in a pair of fine black trousers, a matching double-breasted waistcoat that held a shadow striped pattern, a black and silver striped tie and crisp white undershirt. Over his arm he carried the jacket that most certainly finished the three-piece suit.

His hair was shorter tonight, falling only a few inches below his shoulders, and it was silky straight. He was trying on an auburn-tinged maple color. The narrow nose of the previous night was gone in favor of something more fitting the oval face he was sporting. There was a gentle rounding of his chin instead of the square-jaws he'd been experimenting with recently. I thought this one might be his best yet because of the delectable dimple at its center. But as always, his silver irises shone brightest.

In the end I looked away so I could answer his question with the truth and
not
sound breathless. "I wasn't able to find out who the men last night were working for so I came to pick your brain about demon summoning."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Aiden gesture to one of the cream colored damask sofas. "Won't you sit?"

"No," I said a little too sharply before softening my voice and following up with, "Thank you."

In a soft, urging voice he said, "Please, I insist."

"I might bleed on it. I'll stand."

"You aren't bleeding."

Damn it. I forgot who was talking to. With a firm shake of my head I replied, "I'd really rather stand."

"Very well then." He began to cross the room toward me, voice even without a hint of ire. "We shall stand."

His shiny leather shoes made noise as he walked, something they hadn't done minutes earlier when he'd appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Had he floated above the ground to pull that off?

"You've a great interest in the Battle of the Boyne?" He asked in his amused voice once he'd cut the distance between us in half.

"Is that what this is?" I replied dully while staring at the painting to avoid staring at him.

"It is." He'd come to rest mere inches away from me. I could clearly see him in my peripheral vision as we both stood gazing at the broad painting.

A shrug was all the answer I could manage. His proximity was messing with my ability to think. That sweet scent of his, rather like a warm cinnamon roll with delectable icing, drew entirely naughty thoughts of what he'd taste like.

His maple hair slid to the side when his head tilted toward me. "Why would you bleed on my couch? Were you hurt last night after I left you?"

"I was hurt last night before you did," I pointed out rather than give him a straight answer.

"You weren't bleeding then."
 

"They had guns and one of them was a shifter," was the response I gave.

"You shouldn't have gone back inside. There was no need." His voice went sharp as if he were angry. I couldn't recall him ever becoming upset in the past.

"Sure there was," I answered as lightly as I could manage. "I got kidnappers off the streets of Boston. Speaking of which, did those girls make it home safely?"

"Is that the true reason behind your visit, Miss Denham? Have you come to search my abode for cages?"

"You can't blame me for thinking it," I said with a quick, mildly defensive tone.

"What have I done to deserve so egregious an insult twice in as many days?"

The wounded tone of voice made me glance at him to see if it were feigned. Instead of the usual half-hooded bedroom eyes I was coming to equate with him, his eyelids were folded all the way back. The slight twist of his lips to the left and the crinkling of the soft skin above his nose completed his expression. He looked legitimately irritated.

"Nothing," I admitted in all seriousness with my shoulders slumping just a hint. My attention resumed on the painting. "I'm sorry."

Aiden's head inclined slightly. "You are forgiven." But his irritation hadn't faded.

I decided to steer this conversation onto a safer path. "The women were being held, alive, in cages. Would there be a need for five women in a demon summoning?"

"There is always a need of a sacrifice in an evocation or summoning of a powerful entity. Some practitioners choose trinkets, plants, or animals." He looked off to the corner of the room as if in thought before adding, "Yes, it is entirely possible they were being kept alive for that purpose."

"Then they'll need to find five more women before they can do this."

"More than likely."

I exhaled in relief. "So I have a little bit of time to work with."

Aiden remained still as he pulverized what little relief I'd found. "In a city this size it would be little trouble to find five women who wouldn't be missed. It could be accomplished in a single night."

My eyes narrowed into fine slivers directed at the painting. I took a step away before I realized what I was doing.
 

In a soft voice that was somehow
more
menacing he declared, "I should really like to know what I've done to earn such suspicion. Are there rumors of me in the Underground I'm not privy to?"

Did that mean there were rumors he was privy to?

I shrugged in an effort to come off as unaffected by his irritation as much as to shake off the unease that was building in my shoulders. "I'm suspicious of everything. It's nothing personal."

"You're suspicious of even the Prime?"

A glance over at him showed me nothing had changed on his face. His eyebrows were still crinkled inward and his ordinarily luscious lips were quite thin.

My body turned to face him fully. "What prompted that question?"

He turned slowly to face me as well. "You met with the Prime before you came here."

It wasn't said as a question so I didn't respond to it. I wouldn't have known what to say anyway. The sun had still been out when I'd met Gray at the steakhouse so it couldn't have been Aiden himself spying on me.

"Are you suspicious of him as well?" Aiden asked again.

"I've known Gray for nine years." I tossed my hair over my shoulder, a defensive gesture that matched my tone. "He's earned the right to be at least somewhat above suspicion."

"Perseverance is what it takes?"

"It helps that Gray is a good man," I said rather than give a straight answer.

"And you believe I am not," Aiden deducted.

I didn't like being pushed into a corner so I reacted badly, which equated to speaking my mind instead of giving cryptic responses. "You are a vampire, a member of the Senate, in essence royalty among the most ruthless creatures in the country. You live in the lap of luxury with your mansion," I gestured around the room to the broad canvases and then at him, "expensive suits and servants when much of the city is struggling to keep a job. And you can't seem to decide on what face you're going to wear on any given day. How in the world do you expect anyone to trust you when these are the things you put forth?"