No Humans Involved (24 page)

So I tried not to think about what I'd just walked away from, and was busying myself checking cell phone messages when a patter sounded at the balcony door. I froze. Jeremy? Tossing up pebbles to get my attention? I'd ignore him. I had to ignore him or—

I turned. And there was the man himself, at the glass balcony door, his shirt still undone, shoes off, hair mussed, lips curved in a small smile.

I looked past him. No ladder or other sign of how he'd gotten there. I cracked open the door just enough to be heard.

"How the hell did you get up here?"

"Magic?"

"Well, I haven't changed my mind so—"

"You forgot to say good night."

I struggled not to look at him, at that sexy crooked smile, at his unbuttoned shirt, at his black eyes still glinting with the heady exhilaration of the Change, still hungry—

He moved to the gap and leaned against it, his right hand pressed to the glass, one eye peeking through, a sliver of bare torso close enough to—

Oh, God. I couldn't do this. Screw my resolve.

I reached for the door handle, then stopped. Seduce him? An amazing night of sex and he'd be mine forever? If I honestly believe it would be that easy, I'd have done it four years ago.

"Good night," I said.

"No kiss?"

"Absolutely not."

His lips twitched. His left hand slid through the crack, grabbing the door frame, ready to open it. With one wrench he could be inside, but he just stood there.

"Just one kiss," he said. "Let me in."

"Or you'll huff and you'll puff?"

A throaty laugh that sent a wave of heat through me.

"I could," he said. "If you'd like. Or I can stay right here. Just open the door a little more…"

He moved his face against the two-inch crack. His lips parted, the tip of his tongue showing against white teeth. My knees quavered as I imagined cracking that door open, just a couple of inches more, and pressing against the gap, feeling his body, the heat of it, tasting his kiss, his hunger—

"No," I said, so fast it came out as a squeak.

"Then why don't you come out here?"

"Because in two minutes I'd be on that cement floor, getting strips ripped from my ass, and I wouldn't be able to sit for a week."

He laughed—a full deep laugh that made me want to throw open the door. But if he wasn't opening it himself, that meant that despite that adrenaline inebriation, part of him was still thinking clearly enough to hold back. That part that wasn't ready to take a chance.

"Good night, Jeremy," I said, and closed the door.

I stepped away, reached back and started unzipping my dress.

He pressed his hands to the glass. I could read his lips. "That's not fair."

I smiled and finished unzipping. The dress slid off my shoulders, but stayed there. I looked at him, his gaze fixed on me, eyes dark with lust.

"You wouldn't dare," he mouthed.

I turned, then let it fall off the rest of the way. And, once off, there was nothing else to remove.

"Jaime!"

I heard him though the glass, heard him say my name in a deep growl that made me shiver, but I didn't turn around, just lifted my fingers to wave over my shoulder, then strolled into the bathroom for a very long, very cold shower.

Runaway

THE NEXT MORNING, I snuck downstairs, hoping to avoid Becky. One of the guards said she was closeted in a teleconference with Todd Simon and several network execs.

I took my coffee into the garden. My plan was to visit the child ghosts as if to reassure myself—and them—that I was making progress. But something else was gnawing at me. Something I needed to do, however difficult it was. Tansy had helped me last night. Now I needed to return the favor, at least by hearing her out.

It took only a few minutes of summoning before she appeared.

"You wanted to talk to me the other day," I said. "I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you. I've been—"

"—busy with far more important things." She sat beside me on the low wall. "What a mess, huh? Those poor kids. We didn't even notice them until we saw what you were doing. We keep trying to talk to them, but they can't hear us."

"I'm not sure they can hear me either. But I appreciate the help. I really do."

She nodded, then went quiet for a moment. I braced myself, waiting for her to ask for help in return.

"I'm sorry about springing Gabrielle on you like that," she said finally. "I thought maybe you could get inside information, and I feel awful about raising her hopes."

"I'm sure she would have found me anyway. I only wish I could do something. But in some cases, I just can't. Finding a murderer. Bringing him to justice. Beyond my realm of influence, no matter how much I might want to."

I gave the words extra emphasis, trying to prepare her for disappointment. But she only stared at me, uncomprehending. Then her eyes widened.

"Oh, shit! Am I a moron or what? You guys are trying to figure out who killed Marilyn. I was the warm-up, wasn't I? That's what that Angel chick wanted to know. Who killed me."

"But you don't know who did it," I said, tensing.

"You should see your face," she said with a peal of laughter. "You're waiting for me to ask for help. Bring my killer to justice, damn it!" Another laugh and a shake of her head. "I already know who killed me and I have no interest in bringing him to 'justice.' "

"What?"

She pulled her knees up to sit cross-legged. "I couldn't remember for a while, but eventually I did. It was this guy I came to the party with—I'm not naming names 'cause he's still alive. Anyway, I was high on winning the Emmy and too much champagne. I found this gun in the house and I was showing it to him outside. He was playing with it and—" She shrugged. "The end of Tansy Lane."

"I'm sorry."

"We were being stupid. Drunk kids goofing off with a gun."

Turned out, the only thing she wanted from me was conversation. She peppered me with questions about the shoot and my career, topics of interest to someone who'd grown up in the biz. Then she left me to try contacting the children again, and promised she'd be around, should I need help from the other side.

All my worrying about how to get out of the obligation, and I could have avoided it just by hearing her out when she'd first asked to talk to me.

BEFORE
I could try to summon the children, a guard called my name. I stashed my kit under a bush, and turned the corner to see Jeremy on the patio with a guard, Grady and Claudia.

"Maybe we should go find her," the guard was saying.

"She's fine," Jeremy said. "She doesn't like to be disturbed when she's meditating. If she doesn't answer, I'll wait—" He saw me. "Ah, here she comes."

He nodded and murmured a good morning. I studied his face. It was as inscrutable as ever. He turned to answer something Grady was asking.

Okay, this wasn't the greeting I'd hoped for. Was he upset about last night? Or hoping I'd forgotten? I brushed off regrets. I'd known that once the thrill of the Change wore off, he might reconsider. But if that adrenaline rush had been the only thing driving him last night, then it was a good thing we'd waited. Or so I told myself.

As I drew closer, Jeremy lifted his hands, a steaming mug in each, the smell of fresh coffee wafting my way.

"Thank you."

Another nod. "I trust you had a good night?"

I bit back a smile, but when I met his gaze, I saw no twinkle, no sign that his words were anything more than a polite inquiry.

He continued, "Were you meditating? I could wait here—"

"Nonsense," Grady said. "If Jaime's busy, join us for breakfast."

Claudia seconded the invitation. Jeremy glanced at me, as if he didn't care one way or the other and I wanted to scream that I'd been up since six-thirty waiting for him. But I certainly wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. So I settled for a shrug and a "Your choice."

"If I won't be in the way, I'll join you."

I had to look up and follow his gaze to see whom he was talking to. His eyes were on me.

"Sure," I said, voice as neutral as I could make it. "Come along."

He stayed at my side as I wended my way back to my summoning spot. When we rounded the third corner, he reached over and, without a word, took my coffee and laid both mugs on the garden retaining wall. Then he swept me up in a kiss that left me gasping.

My relief must have shown, because he smiled and said, "You weren't worried, were you?"

I smacked his arm. "Bastard."

A brow arch. "I don't think anyone's ever called me that before."

"Keep pulling stunts like that and you'd better get used to it."

He moved in for another kiss. I studied his gaze, trying to see whether any hesitation lingered. I couldn't tell, and I wasn't taking chances. Even if he'd made up his mind, there was something to be said for making him wait a little longer…

So I kissed him lightly, then hopped off the wall and headed into the garden to do what I'd come out here for.

I RECOVERED my necromancy bag, then sat beside him on a bench and sipped my coffee as I listened to the bird calls and the whispers of the children, felt the wind ruffle my hair, felt the children's fingertips brushing me.

Once I'd reestablished contact with the children, and reassured them I was back, I spoke to Jeremy.

"I was thinking about the kids. About the families." I put my hand out and felt small fingers tickle mine. I tried to close my hand around them, to hold on, but caught only air. "Whether I do the raising or not, I think we should find a way to alert the authorities, even if it's after this is over, so they can find the bodies and give the parents closure."

He nodded.

"Or maybe just, I don't know, give them graves. Headstones. Something to say they were here. From what you said, the parents probably don't care."

"I didn't say that. The children may have been taken from the street. Or kidnapped from families or neighborhoods where the police would presume they'd gone to the street. That's safest. Minimizes the search. But it doesn't mean no one cared. However bad things are for a child, someone usually cares."

His gaze moved out across the garden.

"You're thinking of Clay. His family."

A small look of surprise. Then he nodded.

"There was nothing to be done, though, right?" I moved to sit beside him. "You didn't kidnap him. Elena says he'd run away after he was bitten, was on the street for a year, maybe more, before you found him. You couldn't take him back to his family and say, 'Here's your son. By the way, he's a werewolf.' "

"No. I couldn't."

"Did he ever ask about them?"

"Never. That used to worry me. At first, I thought he wasn't asking because he didn't want to upset me. When he was young, I'd find ways to bring up the subject of mothers, fathers, siblings. He never nibbled. Later, he pretended he'd forgotten everything that happened before he was bitten. He tells Elena he can't remember."

"But he does?"

"I think so. Before Elena became pregnant, he asked me if there was a way to check on his medical history."

"Look for any hereditary conditions. Something he might pass on to a baby."

"Yes. I found his family. It was easy enough. There was some media coverage when he disappeared. I'd always assumed there was, but I'd never looked before." He went quiet for a moment, as if thinking about that. "Paige helped me get medical records. She never asked what they were for, but she probably knew. I didn't find anything significant, medically."

"And Clay. Did he ask about them? His family?"

Jeremy shook his head. "All he wanted was the medical information. I always had the feeling his childhood wasn't… easy. That running away, even as young as he was, really…" He struggled for a word.

"Didn't bother him."

"I don't think it was an unlivable situation. Bad enough, but not the sort of thing that would cause your typical six-year-old to walk away and never return." A tiny smile. "But I suspect Clay wasn't the most typical child even before he was bitten."

"He's happier being a werewolf and sees no reason for regrets. Maybe, if he hadn't been bitten, he would've turned out like these children. A runaway."

I thought about that as I felt the tinkling touch of the children's fingers, listened to their whispers. How old were they? It was impossible to tell. From the touches and pokes, I'd guess some were quite young, though the voices had sounded like preadolescents, which meant they should be able to understand my instructions, supporting the theory that they couldn't hear me any better than I could them.

The older ones could be passed off as runaways. The younger ones? Vanished children, like Clay had been.

I thought of Clay, the life he'd gone from, the life he'd had. I won-dered whether any of these children had run away. Just up and left their homes, their families, maybe even only for a day or two, cooling off after a fight. And then… gone. Killed. Sacrificed.

What did they make of their situation? Were they frightened? Suffering? Were they
aware
enough to be frightened? To suffer? Were they together? Or separate, unable to contact the others, alone. No way to tell. Not until I set them free.

"Have you heard from Elena and Clay yet?" I asked finally.

"I called them when I woke up, checking in, but no one answered. They're probably outside with the kids. I left a message."

I nodded.

"Sir?" a voice called. "Ms. Vegas?"

I waved the guard over.

"Your cell phone has been ringing, sir," he said to Jeremy. "You left it in your jacket inside. And someone thought they heard Ms. Vegas's phone ringing in her room."

We gathered our things and headed for the house.

IT WAS Elena calling with their "research notes" on folk magic.

"So how does that help us?" I asked when Jeremy finished explaining.

"I don't know if it does. Not at this stage."

"What about those body parts in Botnick's closet? They're used in this kind of magic. Maybe if we knew his supplier… No, I guess if he had a direct link to this group, he wouldn't have been trying to find them."

"But it does shed some light on what we're looking for. Like Botnick, this group is likely eclectic in their choices, and their magics."

"Experimenting to find what works. Like that kid who tried selling body parts to Eve."

Jeremy nodded. "If they practiced African folk magic, Botnick would have known that and known how to refine his search."

"And we'd now know how to refine ours, looking for this group. Without that, all we have is a nice theory."