The Fire Within (13 page)

“I would think a cop would have a problem with getting information from an outside source like this.”

“A
cop
would, yes. But Mrs. Blake was killed by a Shem, which means I’m acting in my capacity as a warrior of the Nephilim. In hunting one of them, I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“Good.” Beth crossed her arms over her chest. “Because you’ve got mine, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t, but I’ll take it. For now.”

“You are a royal pain in my ass, do you know that?” But that didn’t stop her from sliding into the seat, strangely relieved. If anything got past Dante to her, it would be because he was unconscious or dead.

“Not yet, but I’m always hopeful.” He shut the door on her protest, laughing when he saw her glaring at him.

They drove in silence, pulling up outside of Sam’s ranch-style house with not another word spoken. Beth got out of the car and started up the cement walkway to the house. Glancing back, she saw Dante’s head lowered over his cell phone, the cutest little frown of frustration on his face. He looked all settled in for the duration of her visit. She smiled and shook her head at the picture he made.

He looked like a cop on a stake-out. Sam was going to be tickled pink.

But Sam barely glanced out the door before dragging her inside. “You’re not going to believe what I’ve found.” Sam was practically bouncing as she led Beth into her office.

Sam had every commercially produced computer-related gadget known to man. Her wireless network would put NASA’s to shame. Her smartphone was linked to the network and could access any file Sam needed from wherever she was in the house. She had speakers hooked up for music, and a digital drawing pad for doodling and anything else she felt like using it for. She had two top of the line laptops, one travel sized, one with a graphics card that would make a professional animator drool with envy.

If it was computer related, Sam owned it.

The room showed the quirky personality of its owner off to a tee. The dark wine-colored walls were covered in reproduction posters of nineteen-forties ads. The floor lamp and chair in the corner were so dark and gothic she expected to see Piotr Romanov sitting there, reading and sipping brandy. The desk where Sam did most of her work was huge, taking up most of the room, yet she’d managed to tidily bundle all of the hardware’s wires into wire holders designed to hide them from view. The room was neat as a pin, all Sam’s files in two dark-stained filing cabinets. If Sam needed something, she could lay her hand on it within moments.

Sam sat at her desk and typed a few commands. A file came up immediately, and Beth leaned over Sam’s shoulder to read it.

“Kensington? What’s this?”

Sam grinned ferociously. “Robert Kensington’s bank files. He’s been receiving payments in the amount of two thousand dollars a month, starting three months before the murder.”

Beth whistled. “Someone’s been a very naughty boy.”

“Yes, he was. And guess what else I found? Right after the murder, the amount deposited?” Sam waited until Beth was looking at her instead of the screen. “Twenty grand.”

“Shit. Where did the money come from?” She thought she already knew the answer.

“Todd Blessing’s campaign fund.”

Beth sighed deeply, a huge grin on her face.
Bingo.
“Blackmail?”

Sam shrugged. “What else? Any idea what he was being blackmailed for?” Sam tapped a few more commands into the computer, and dragged up another file. This one showed the Blessing campaign’s previous bank statements.

“Not a clue,” Beth said absently, reading the file. “No, wait, go back one.”

“There?”

“Son of a bitch. I thought he wasn’t in their files.” But there were the contributions, neatly outlined in Sam’s document.

“Well, you know, that’s the funny thing. I went back and double-checked my work, just to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, and the whole original file was gone. Deleted.”

Someone had tried to erase the Romanov file, to cover their tracks.

Finally, she had a solid lead. “Were you able to retrieve anything?”

“I can do better. I can tell you who deleted the file.” Sam’s fingers flew, bringing up document after document, all of them labeled
Romanov.

Beth looked at Sam. “Who?”

“Sylvester Oates.”

“
Who?
”

Sam shrugged. “Sylvester Oates.” She frowned up at Beth. “Who’s Sylvester Oates?”

“Good question,” Beth replied, staring at the glowing screen.

* * *

The thoughtful expression on her face as she slid into the car had him putting his phone away. “What did she find out?”

“That Mr. Kensington has been naughty in more ways than one, and that we need to check into Sylvester Oates a little further than we already have.”

“How so?”

“Kensington’s been receiving payments in the amount of two thousand dollars a month, starting three months before the murder. Right after the murder, the amount deposited into his account was twenty grand. And it all came from the Todd Blessing campaign.”

“And Oates?”

“Sam says he’s the one who erased all of the Romanov files.”

“So Piotr lied to us after all.”

“Mmm.” Beth was staring out the window, her expression blank, but Dante was coming to realize that meant she was in deep thought. “He never actually denied giving money to the campaign.”

Dante frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He said things like ‘You’d think I’d notice missing money,’ and ‘Romanov Enterprises is not interested in politics.’ He never once said ‘I didn’t give them money.’”

“Still, why would he try and hide it?”

“Do you guys have a problem with giving money to politicians?”

“You guys?” He chuckled. “And no, our private lives are our own. If, say, Blessing were a Shem, that would be different.”

“Unless he was hoping to flush out a Shem and was using his contributions to do so.”

He looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head. “Thinking out loud, mostly, but what if Piotr suspected that Blessing’s campaign had been infested? Could he have used his money to try and flush them out? I mean, does he hunt the way you and Seth do, chasing after the bad guy, or is he the kind to work behind the scenes?”

Dante blew out a breath. She had a good point, one he’d have to think about. “I’ve never seen him on an actual hunt. He’s not my partner.”

“I thought Seth was your partner. You’re the one who showed up and helped him deal with Diana after...” Her expression wavered for a second, and he knew she was remembering how she’d been forced to shoot the Shem, killing it. She had been strong enough to defend her friend, but everyone had nightmares about their first kill, even Dante.

“I work with Seth and...someone else. I’m not at liberty to say who, though. Usually we work in threes for safety’s sake.”

“All right. Don’t tell me.” She smirked at him. “It’s not like I won’t eventually figure it out on my own.”

She would too, but he didn’t mind as much as he might have once. She’d be his soon enough and know the full truth anyway, and maybe the puzzle would keep that overactive brain of hers occupied while he took care of the Shem. “Tell me about Oates.”

“Oates had a file on Romanov deleted from the campaign’s computers. And I’ve got the proof.” She pulled a sheaf of papers from inside her jacket. “Right down to his IP address.”

“Do you think it might have been Oates trying to run you over last night?” he asked quietly. She shrugged. “It should be easy enough to check on his alibi.”

He pulled up outside the campaign headquarters. “Let me do the talking.”

“Flashing the badge, Officer?”

Where her safety was concerned? “Damn straight.”

They strolled into the headquarters and immediately headed for the office of Sylvester Oates. The Shem stench was so thick Dante almost choked on it, but the source was obscured by the sheer amount of it. The Shem was either still in the office or had been spending a lot of time in that room recently.

Sylvester Oates was hard at work, barely glancing up when they walked into his office. There was less of the Shem stink in his office, but Dante wasn’t quite ready to rule him out yet. “Can I help you?”

“I need to know where you were at ten o’clock last night.”

“Excuse me?” Oates seemed confused by the question. “You want to know where I was last night at ten o’clock?”

“That’s right, Mr. Oates. Can you tell us, please?”

The pen he’d been holding was put carefully down. “I was bowling with my league last night. When we were done, we headed out for a bite to eat, and then I went home to Gracie.”

“Gracie?” Beth asked.

“My wife.”

“And what time would that have been, Mr. Oates?” Dante asked, leaning back in his chair.

“The game ended at nine-thirty, the meal ended at ten forty-five, and I was home by eleven.” He stared at them, obviously confused. “What is this all about, anyway?”

“Someone attempted to run me over last night in the parking lot of a nightclub.” Beth was watching his reaction closely.

From outside the office, a loud crash sounded. Oates winced. “Excuse me, please.” He walked out from behind his desk and opened the door. “What the hell is going on out there?” he yelled.

“Sorry, Mr. Oates,” Barbara sputtered. The coffee pot lay on the floor between her and Bryan Cranston. Cranston was wringing his hands in dismay. “Bryan and I bumped into each other, and, well...” Her voice trailed off as she stared in dismay at the broken pot.

Oates sighed. “Just clean it up and get back to work, people.” He shut the door of his office and sat once more behind his desk. “Okay.” He sighed again, running his hands through his dark hair. “If you want to check my alibi, just talk to Gracie. I can also dig up the names of some of my bowling buddies if you want to call them.”

Dante nodded. “No offense, but that would be appreciated. If you’re cleared, we can start looking elsewhere.”

Oates nodded. “Not a problem.” He reached for the Rolodex on his desk and began flipping through it. “Can I ask why you suspect me?”

Elizabeth glanced at him before answering. “We’re covering our bases, that’s all.”

“Fair enough.” Once he had the names he wanted, he wrote them down and handed Dante the piece of paper. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with.”

Dante took the paper with a nod of thanks. His whole posture seemed more relaxed. “Thanks again,” he said as he led Elizabeth out of the office.

“It wasn’t him.”

Dante shook his head. “No. It wasn’t. There wasn’t any guilt or surprise when he saw us. So who has access to his computer?”

She opened the door to the Eclipse and climbed in. “I’d say anyone with access to that back office.”

“Cranston, Lindsay, Blessing—hell, it could be any one of them.” Dante thought about the Shem stench all over that back office. “I’m going to rule out Candy.”

Elizabeth shot him a look full of amused disgust. “Oh?”

“Seriously. Shem have a distinctive aura about them, one that gets left behind when they leave a place. That back office was thick with it, but the front of the headquarters had hardly any.”

“So Candy at the front desk can’t be the Shem.” She leaned back, pushing her glasses up her nose. “But that means Blessing isn’t either.”

“Unless he’d been in there for a while before we arrived. It was literally
everywhere
. Hell, it brushed the ceiling. Whoever it was had been in that room, leaving behind that miasma deliberately.”

“Just like a skunk.”

He grinned. “Or a fart.”

She rolled her eyes. “You have an obsession with poo gas. Remind me not to bring you any bean burritos for lunch.”

“Speaking of food, I have a favor to ask you.” He had no idea how she would react to his request, but no way could he leave her alone. Not if her life was in danger.

“Ask away.”

“I have a family birthday party to go to tonight, and I could use a date. Would you mind going with me?”

She stared him, absolutely flabbergasted. He wanted to introduce her to his
family?
For an Italian, that was almost a declaration of his honorable intentions. “You
really
don’t want me out of your sight, do you?”

He sighed. She was right, but the opportunity to introduce her to his family was too good to pass up. “Would you believe that I’d actually like your company tonight?”

She laughed. “I don’t know. Is your family ready for someone like me?”

“The real question is, are you ready for my family?” Because he very much doubted Elizabeth had ever met a clan quite like his.

He couldn’t wait to introduce her to them.

Chapter Eleven

“Can I ask you something?”

Andi grunted. “If you don’t move too much, sure.” She jabbed another bobby pin into Beth’s head.

“Ow.” Beth resisted the urge to rub away the sore spot. “Did you go to the Marquis de Sade school of hairdressing?”

“Oh, shush. You’re lucky I had the time to come and help you. Piotr’s been running me ragged lately.” She jabbed another pin in. “What’s up?”

“Piotr was the one I wanted to talk to you about.” Beth was careful to keep her tone neutral. Andi adored Piotr, but Beth still wasn’t as sure about him as Andi was.

“Oh?” The word was mumbled as Andi dragged the brush through Beth’s hair. Andi had a bobby pin in her mouth, ready to stab Beth’s poor head again.

“Yeah. You know anything about the Blessing campaign?”

“
Pfft.
Piotr mentioned you guys questioned him on that. We...I mean,
he
didn’t contribute a damn thing, personally or otherwise.”

“Are you sure?” Beth frowned, but it quickly turned to a wince as Andi forced another stubborn lock of Beth’s hair to obey.

“Yup. I take care of all of that. I know all of the pseudonyms he uses when he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s the one who gifted the charity. Piotr doesn’t really dabble in politics beyond attending dinners where politicians are also invited.” She laughed. “He thinks most of them are soul-sucking ghouls.”

Beth blinked. Yeah, Piotr would have a basis of comparison, wouldn’t he? “Any idea why Dante and he don’t get along?”

“Nope.” Andi nodded her approval and patted Beth’s shoulder. “There. That ought to hold. Now, let’s get the dress on.”

Beth stood, wondering just what Andi had done to her. Her bestie had refused to allow Beth to see herself until she was finished, and that included the makeup job Andi had insisted on doing. “But you trust Piotr completely?”

“Well, not completely. Do I trust his integrity and his sense of honor? Absolutely. If I listed the charities he helps out with no one knowing you’d be stunned. Hell, the man has set up a widows and orphans fund in his home country that he oversees personally.”

“And you have access to that information too?”

Andi nodded and slipped the dress over Beth’s head. “He can’t keep me out. I know everything about Piotr Romanov, including what he likes to eat after a night with one of his ladies, what he drinks when he’s stressed and what his voice sounds like when he’s really pissed off. I can tell you that tomorrow I’ll be asked to check into Warwick Computing, because he’s been going over their files like a madman lately.”

Beth slipped on the gold shoes Andi held out. “That’s a creepy level of stalking, Andrea Hancock.”

“That’s a good personal assistant, Elizabeth Rand.” Andi grabbed her and shoved her in front of the mirror. “Now take a look, Cinderella, and tell me what you think.”

Beth stared at herself in the mirror.

This is so not me.

What the hell had she been thinking? She should have known better than to ask Andi to lend her an outfit. Andi had completely different tastes than she did, and now Beth was stuck with a dress that was so far outside her comfort zone it wasn’t even on the same planet.

“Knock it off, Beth. You look fantastic.”

She turned sideways, sucking her stomach in with a grimace. “If you say so.”

“I do, so shush.” Andi helped her clip on her gold bracelet with a satisfied grin. “You look like I always knew you could, sophisticated and sexy.”

Beth wasn’t convinced. It was a simple little black dress, at least for someone who wore dresses on a regular basis. But Beth, who preferred jeans and tank tops, was having trouble adjusting to an A-line hem that ended above her knees. The V-neck and thick straps were comfortable at least, and allowed her to wear a real bra, with real straps, but she hadn’t been sure that the ruched satin would look good on her. She still wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not, even if it did make her ass look amazing.

Hell, even the heels were torture—four-inch stilettos that made her legs seem a mile long and her feet wish she’d worn flats.

She turned her foot in, staring at the kicky gold heel.

All right. She had to admit that she secretly
loved
the shoes. But she wasn’t budging on the dress.

Andi had carefully bound her hair up in an elegant twist that showed off her neck and, unfortunately, the love bite Dante had gifted her with. Andi had taken one look at it and showed Beth a quick trick to hiding it that didn’t involve a turtleneck. She’d finally managed, with Andi’s help, to dull it down, but it was still there, still obvious.

On one wrist she wore a gold bracelet, and a diamond heart pendant graced her throat, a gift from Andi and Sam on her twenty-first birthday. In her ears was a pair of gold hoops Abby had given her.

“You look incredible,” Andi said gleefully. “Dante’s not going to know what hit him.”

Beth swallowed hard. She didn’t recognize herself. She looked soft and dainty and somehow still kick-ass. She glanced at her feet and wondered how fast she could get the heels off if she needed to fight.

She wanted to kick something. That, or hide under the bed. This could not end well. Dante’s family was going to hate her. She was going to get Andi’s perfect dress barbecued by Nephilim. She was—

The doorbell rang. Beth turned and tried to dart back into the bedroom in a panic, but found her way blocked by Andi.

The doorbell rang again.

I
guess I’m going to answer the door.

Taking a deep breath, she told her screaming nerves to quiet. What was the worst that could happen? Dante wouldn’t like her dress? She opened the door...

And gulped at the sight of a Detective Dante Zucco who was seriously dressed to impress.

Holy
shit
, the detective cleaned up nice. He’d worn a black suit with a brick red shirt and black and red tie underneath. His cologne was subtle, enhancing his natural warm scent. The stubble that always seemed to grace his face was gone, leaving behind smooth, lean cheeks she longed to touch.

“Hi.” His gaze roamed over her, his expression warming with approval and desire.

“Hi,” she replied nervously. Behind her she heard Andi getting her coat and purse, but she couldn’t turn around. She found herself mesmerized by the heat in his dark eyes. She swore she saw flames dancing within them, but he blinked and they were gone.

The two of them would have been frozen in the doorway, in more ways than one, if not for Andi. “Excuse me, I have to be going now.” She gave Beth a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good time, Beth.”

“Thanks.” Beth tore her gaze from Dante long enough to hug Andi back. She had her nerves under control again—or so she hoped.

Andi smiled up at Dante and inched her way around him, muttering a quick goodbye. He waved absently at her as she whistled her way down the stairs and out to her car.

He turned back to Beth. “You look...unbelievable,” he said, his voice barely under control.

“Thanks. You too.” She grabbed the gold clutch and black wool coat Andi had also lent her, telling her that the parka she’d planned on wearing wouldn’t look right with her dress.

Hell, Beth was just hoping not to kill herself in the four-inch heels. She really didn’t care if her coat matched her dress, but she’d bowed before Andi’s fashion sense and accepted the double-breasted wide-collared coat with bright gold buttons. It was a lot warmer than it looked, almost as warm as her parka.

Dante took her arm and led her to the Eclipse. “Have you ever been to an Italian birthday party?”

She nodded. “One of my best friends is Italian.”

“Have you ever been there as the date of one of the family?” He held her door open for her, helping her into her seat with a steadying hand on her elbow.

She shook her head. “No. Why?”

He shut the door and moved around to the driver’s seat. “Let’s just say you’re in for a bit of a shock.”

“Are they Neph like you?”

“My mother is Neph. She’s what we call a Legionnaire. Her main powers are inhuman strength and endurance.”

Whoa. She needed to remember not to piss off Mama. “So she’s Superwoman.”

“She likes to think so. But only Neph like Seth can fly. My mom’s a warrior, a total bad-ass.” He grinned. “You always did your homework in my house.”

“How many different types of Neph are there? I know there are the winged ones like Seth, and the fire types like you. Now Legionnaires?”

He shot her a quick, thoughtful glance. “I’m a Seris. Fire does my bidding. Seth is an Angelus, with wings of light.”

“Are all Neph winged?”

He shook his head. “Only the Angelus.”

“Oh.” So he wouldn’t grow fiery wings. She was oddly disappointed about that.

“Legionnaires are among the most common angel-born, along with Knights, who have the ability to summon weapons from thin air.”

“That sounds pretty cool.”

“It is. Malachi have the ability to speak any language they read or hear, can read the auras of those around them, and teleport short distances.”

“Which makes for a nice commute in the mornings.”

He laughed. “Yeah. Well. Most Malachi use cars like everyone else. Remember, our powers use energy, just like walking or riding a bike does. So the energy it takes to teleport to the office and back again would be the same amount of energy needed to walk there, but used in one quick burst. It’s tiring.”

“So it’s not a power that’s used often, I gather.”

He shook his head. “When I use my flame, I pull the heat from the air around me and from inside me. I’ll feel both hot and cold to the touch, because my flame is heating my skin but my inner fire is dimming the more I use my abilities.”

“How are Shem different from Neph? Other than feeding, I mean.” Beth had been meaning to ask that question for some time, but the right time had never come up before.

“Their evil marks them. You remember what Diana looked like right before you shot her?”

Beth shuddered.

“Exactly. They can hide their evil behind a human facade, but that’s all it is. A facade. Once you peel that away, the true abomination is revealed. They feed off of humans, flesh, emotions, heat—”

“So they could feed off of your heat?”

“Not...exactly. A Shem Seris feeds off the life energy of their victims, their inner fire, until the person dies. The victim will often complain about being cold and can never get warm enough. Once their inner fire is consumed, they die.”

She shivered. “So
you
could become a Shem.”

He shook his head. “No. It doesn’t quite work that way. I was born Nephilim, and when my powers emerged I chose to use them for good, like my mother before me. Shem angel-born are psychotic little narcissists even before their powers emerge.”

They drove in silence for a bit before Beth asked the other question that had been plaguing her. “What kind of Shem are we after?”

“A Shem Azar.”

“What do they do? What are their powers?” Beth needed to understand what they were facing if she was going to keep Dante safe.

“Azar have the ability to heal both physical and spiritual wounds. They also have the ability to inflict wounds, but the only Azar I know of hates doing it. He said it makes him feel unclean.”

“And our Shem?”

He sighed. “Shem Azar feed on the flesh of their victims.”

“They’re cannibals?” She thought back to the wounds they’d found on Jennifer Blake. “Oh my God. It ate her.”

He nodded. “Yeah. They tend to find the insides the most desirable parts. The heart, the liver...”

She shuddered. “The offal.”

“Yup.” His grim tone lightened as they pulled up in front of a restaurant. “We’re here.”

“Yay.” She swallowed thickly. She wasn’t sure she was up to eating. And not just because of cannibal Shem.

He chuckled. “You’ve faced some pretty bad guys. You can handle one itty bitty family dinner.”

When she glared at him he just laughed.
Nice to know I amuse the hell out of him.

Dante took her immediately to an older couple standing near the entrance of the restaurant. He kissed them both, something that surprised her. She wasn’t used to seeing men kiss their fathers on the cheek like that, but Dante made it seem natural.

“Dante.
Ti trovo bene
,
figlio mio.
”

“Mama.
Come stai?
”

“
Bene
,
bene.
E
tu?
”

“I’m good, Mama.” He tugged Beth forward. “I’d like you to meet Elizabeth Rand. Elizabeth, this is my mother, Teresa Zucco.”

Teresa was a small, slender woman in her early fifties, with dark hair streaked with silver and the same warm brown gaze that characterized her son. Her voice was laced with more than a hint of Italy. It was hard to think of such a tiny woman not only giving birth to Dante but being a mighty warrior. Beth held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Teresa took hold of her hand, staring at her with the same intensity she’d seen so often on Dante’s face. She smiled at her son, her expression pleased. “
Mi piace questo una ancora meglio di quello scorso.
”

Dante turned bright red, leaving Beth to wonder what his mother had said to him. He cleared his throat and turned to his father, who was trying not to laugh. “Dad, this is Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is my father, Rosario Zucco.”

“Call me Russ.” Dante’s father had no accent, but a huge smile, laughing blue eyes and a small hint of silver threaded through his golden hair. It was easy to see where Dante had gotten most of his looks, and his size. Russ towered over her in the same way his massive son did.

“Nice to meet you, Russ.”

Dante’s father had a firm handshake.

Teresa patted Beth’s arm. “You’ll eat with us,
naturalmente
.” She turned her attention once more to Dante. “Gio will be here tonight, and Anna and Francesca.”

“Gio’s here?” Dante looked utterly delighted. “I thought he was still out looking for Rafe.”

Russ took Teresa’s arm and began leading her into the restaurant. “He was. He came back for tonight’s birthday party.”