“I’m surprised your house cook hasn’t whipped up a fae-based alternative to that sauce.”
“Oh, they keep trying! It’s like every day I get another option, and many work just fine managing my headaches, but I just adore this brand’s flavor.”
“Out of curiosity, I tried it. There’s no flavor, just heat,” he said.
“Not to me.” She smiled at the banter, but his expression was grim.
Quinn opened his notebook, studiously reviewing his notes for a moment. “As you can imagine, Vott’s shifter guards haven’t taken this attack well. Both of you have had constant surveillance since.”
Becka wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t been without a posted guard since she’d returned to House Rowan.
“After this, I’ll be lucky to use the bathroom without company,” she said.
Quinn sobered. “That’s a fine idea. I’ll recommend it to Brent.”
Becka rolled her eyes. “Kidding…”
Quinn’s gaze narrowed on her, his schooled expression and terse formality exaggerating the distance between them.
“I’m aware.”
There was a knock at the door. Quinn jumped to his feet and turned to the door. Was he concerned who might see them together?
“Who is it?” Becka called out, her voice faltering.
Brent opened the door and walked over. “Good evening, Becka. Enforcer Quinn.”
“Brent.” She nodded, continuing to alternate sips between water and hot sauce.
“Alain is in the hall, asking if you’re up for company.” Brent raised a brow, his gaze drifting to Quinn and then back to her.
At Becka’s request, her shifter guards had been giving excuses to Alain for weeks. She knew Brent understood she was avoiding Alain and so she attempted to come up with a fresh reason each time.
“I literally just got back,” Becka said. “And I’m too exhausted to deal with him.”
“And I’m here in an official capacity, I’m afraid.” Quinn frowned. “I need time to question Becka about the incident.”
“Uh huh.” Brent’s hands went to his hips as he looked back and forth between them. Finally, he shook his head. “At some point you just need to come to terms with the Alain situation,” he said to Becka. “Discomfort is meant to be faced head-on.”
“That’s a perfect shifter saying, Brent, but I’m not dealing with my situation right at this moment. Can you please tell Alain I’ll speak with him tomorrow?”
He shrugged, hands up in the air. “May I suggest instead of hiding, that you rise to meet the challenges of your life? Own it. Putting off action is perpetuating this never-ending drama.” He turned and strode out of the room, closing the door on his way out.
“Heck yeah, it’s mine. I’ll put off Alain for as long as it takes, thank you very much,” she said under her breath. Becka set her now empty glass on the table. “At least I’m never left wondering what he’s thinking.”
“Direct is the shifter way.” Quinn’s lip twitched and he took a deep breath, as if he was debating his word choice. “I hear you’re still engaged?”
Becka sighed. “Yeah, unfortunately I haven’t found my escape clause yet, but I will.”
Quinn’s single raised brow paired with tension in his lips. “Even if you were to find a way out of your engagement to Alain, don’t you think your mother would find another marriageable prospect befitting her heir?”
A heavy weight settled in her gut. “Yes, Maura definitely will. But I’d have the opportunity to try and talk some sense into her before she signed the next one.”
His eye twitched. “You’d school the duchess using your fine understanding of fae customs and then she’d just come around to your way of thinking?”
Becka groaned. “I may be Rowan’s heir, but my gift is too dangerous for most potential partners. Maura must see reason. Once she’s released from the current contract, of course.”
“Do you have a list of houses who are immune to your gift?”
“Besides your house?” she asked, and he nodded. “Not yet, but the testers have been debating it at length.”
“I would think Duchess Maura would have a list of potentials, even if she has not yet made you aware of it.”
“Contingency plans?” Becka replied. “Yes, I suppose she would. But it’s not only my gift. I’m a bit unconventional. I’ve had a difficult time winning over those in my own house, not to mention strangers.”
The corner of his lip twitched upward. “Some wouldn’t consider your unique character a detractor. And even more would be willing to overlook it for the sake of custom and potentially powerful progeny.”
“Ugh,” she replied, scrunching her nose at the thought. “Can’t I just donate some eggs? I’m sure someone would be willing to carry the future heirs of House Rowan.”
He frowned. “The fae don’t practice surrogacy, Becka. It’s believed power transfers from mother to child during the pregnancy.”
She shook her head. “I’ve been gone too long. Humans do it all the time, but I forgot that fae don’t. It’s too bad; it would broaden our fertility rates. And besides, that argument makes no sense, as children get the father’s powers too.”
‘Yet it is the custom. I can see you’ve thought this over.” Then, his tone curt, “Did you want more water?”
Becka bit her lip, feeling like he’d shut down the conversation. But what did she expect him to do? He’d warned her that he wasn’t interested in someone who wasn’t available. The chemistry between them had become some sort of cruel joke.
“No thanks, I’d better take it slow with the water… my stomach is still queasy. And thank you for the sauce. My head is already improving.”
He gave a terse nod. “You’re welcome. Are you up for some questions?”
He’d gone all business on her, and her heart ached. To have Quinn back but distant was almost worse than having him not back at all.
“From you,” she smiled, “anytime.”
He flipped open his notebook to where he’d left a handy pen as a place keeper. “Tell me what you remember about the day of the poisoning.”
Becka took a deep breath and then recounted that day, including her morning training with Astrid, the muffins and sliced melon she’d had for breakfast, the ridiculous floofy ombre dress, the trade banquet and socializing, her bottle-dropping incident, and finally her end-of-day tea and poisoning with Vott. Everything.
Quinn silently listened to her tale. When her words ran dry, he sat contemplatively jotting down notes.
“Just so I know I have this down right: you weren’t there when the tea was delivered?”
“No. Vott had all that in order when I arrived.”
“And you didn’t see the tea brewed? Or the set put out?”
“Nope.”
“And you didn’t like the tea, so you poured it into Vott’s mug?”
Guilt flip-flopped in her stomach. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Did it taste funny?”
“I hadn’t tasted it first. I just hate that tea with a passion. His mug was empty, so I gave him mine and got water instead. I only had a little of the tea left in my cup.”
“The tea wasn’t poisoned.”
Becka leaned forward. “But all I drank was tea and water, and I didn’t see Vott drink any water, just tea. It had to be the tea.”
Quinn shook his head. “We tested the teapot and there wasn’t any poison.”
She frowned. “That makes no sense, Quinn.”
He held up his hand to calm her. “We tested the teapot, tea leaves, mugs, tea, and water.”
“And?”
“The tea in Vott’s mug was poisoned, but not until after you arrived. By the staff reports, he’d been sitting and drinking tea for a quarter hour before you arrived.”
“Wait a second… I didn’t poison my father!” she exclaimed.
Quinn’s gaze met hers for a moment, just long enough for Becka to realize he was reading her. His innate gift gave him an
ear for the truth, and because it was innate, it operated twenty-four seven. All he had to do was pay attention. Did he think she was capable of poisoning her own father? His doubt hurt her heart.
This isn’t how things are supposed to be between us.
“I didn’t think you had, but thank you for the unequivocal statement. It’ll satisfy the doubts of some others, and I believe you.” He jotted down another note before continuing. “Our techs found that the entire rim of your mug was covered in poison. Our theory is that you were the intended target. Since you poured your tea into Vott’s mug, that’s likely how his tea was contaminated.”
Becka’s head swam in confusion. “You’re saying I did poison my father?”
He rocked his head from side to side. “Inadvertently. It wasn’t your fault.”
Tears filled her eyes. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
He leaned closer, reached out, and stroked her shoulder. “I understand.”
Becka reveled in the contact, chaste and brief as it was. “Do the enforcers have any leads?”
“We know nothing definite, so we’re casting a broader net in the investigation to make sure we don’t miss any potential suspects.”
“I’m grateful the enforcers are here. Well, that you’re here. I just hope Vott can recover from the poison soon.”
He nodded, a grim set to his jaw. “I am also hopeful, but the chances are low. He appears to have gotten a larger dose than you. Plus, there’s the nature of the poison.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean? Illan said it was a mixture of nightshade and strychnine. He also said that he’d used a combination of magic and medicine to treat Vott and that he was hopeful for his recovery.”
Quinn fixed her with a look, one she remembered from the last time he gave her bad news. He leaned in and spoke in low tones. “There was a third component in the poison.”
Chapter 6
“Don’t leave me hanging,” she said.
There was no trace of humor in Quinn’s features, his prominent bone structure left harsh and grave without his usual animated personality. “We found traces of the Treatment.”
Becka’s eyes blinked in quick succession. “You can’t be serious. The Treatment?”
His chin ducked a quick nod. “The one and only.”
Every fae-touched knew of the Treatment. Humans developed it during the Great War as a last-ditch effort to eradicate the fae threat. The fae didn’t know how it functioned; the method and formula a closely kept human secret. Rumor said it was a form of genetic warfare. Any fae exposed to the substance had their powers limited. Blunted. Bound. But those weren’t the worst of the effects.
Becka had read stories of the devastation to the victims. Cruelly, they still felt a trickle of their powers, but never again had access to them in meaningful ways. They also aged at an accelerated pace, which was a death sentence for those already well along in years. The victims withered, losing their strength, night vision, and agility.
Some killed themselves, unwilling to live without elements of self they considered essential. Those that didn’t take their own lives withered away, pariahs of their generation. A warning to all fae-kind not to war with humans ever again.
The Treatment had turned the tide of the war in favor of the human contingent. Fear of being stripped of all that made them fae was a weapon they could not defeat. Thus, the Pax Hominid Treaty was born, or at least enforced.
“That’s why Maura and Astrid wanted my gift checked!”
“Yes,” he replied. “They were the first I told when the test results came in.”
She shivered. “I didn’t know the Treatment was still around. I thought part of the treaty was an agreement never to use that weapon again, as long as fae maintained the peace.”
He shook his head, his grimace nearing a snarl. “There’s an exclusion for when fae are convicted of sedition or violent crimes in human courts. Then a part of the sentence includes the Treatment. It’s rarely done; the threat alone is enough to deter most transgressions.”
“Is there enough left to reverse-engineer a cure?” Becka asked. “You must have access to labs sophisticated enough to attempt it?”
“The labs are there, but remember they are human-run, even the enforcer labs. Reverse-engineering a cure to the Treatment would not be allowed. Besides, once we realized what we had, all our samples were seized. No fae is allowed access to it.”
“Except the one who used it to poison my father and me!” Becka felt sick to her stomach. She sat forward on the divan again. “Poor Vott. I was the true target, but he got most of the dose…”
Quinn nodded. “There’s still hope for him. We don’t yet know how much he received. Only time will tell how deeply impacted his abilities and health will be.”
Becka felt the floor drop out beneath her, her stomach flip-flopping with anxiety. “If they’d been successful, at least I’d have gotten out of my engagement.”
He frowned, brows drawn together. “There are more side effects from the Treatment than simply losing one’s powers. You’d be wasting away, powerless and ailing, even more vulnerable to your enemies. Surely that wouldn’t have been worth the cost?”
“When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound like an acceptable exit strategy. Quinn, I’m grateful the enforcers assigned you to this case. Seeing you in person is so much better than over the phone.”
“I wasn’t back on active duty yet, but Chief Elowen called me when she noticed it involved you. She knows I’m proprietary with my cases.”
Becka let that hang in the air, wanting to know if he felt that way about her, not just about the case. But after his comments earlier about her engagement, she wasn’t ready to broach that topic with him yet. She didn’t deny to herself that her affection for him had continued to grow.
“I’m going to help you figure out who poisoned me. I will avenge Vott.”
Some of his usual warmth returned to his smile. “Of course you will.”
“I’m serious!”
“I know you are.”
“When I think Vott got hit with the brunt of it and that his poisoning was inadvertently my fault, I feel so angry and sick all at once. Especially since he’s been making an extra effort to re-bond with me.”
“He has?”
“Yeah, every couple of days he invites me to lunch, tea, private dinner, you name it. Always with the easy small talk and filled with encouragement over each minute gain in skill performance. He just keeps working at connecting, and I haven’t made it easy.”
“That fits.”
Becka scowled at him. “What do you mean?”
“Every time we communicate, you have repeated your doubts about being accepted by House Rowan. You’ve spoken wistfully of the city and your persisting education and work interests.”
Becka sighed, sinking back against the divan. “I suppose I’m holding back. It’s difficult to feel at home here after being gone for so long. It’s hard to trust I won’t be rejected again.”
“I don’t know how you’ll manage it, but I believe you will find your own path. It might not look like what you expect, but I have faith in you to find your way.”
Becka reached out and gripped his arm. His touching affirmation spoke to her at a deep level. “Thanks. I am so glad you’re here.”
“I am too,” he replied, eyes full of emotion.
Seconds passed. Then a minute. Then two. She’d missed him to distraction. Becka studied his features, drinking in his presence. Quinn had earned her trust, and her affection had grown along the way. She hadn’t been fully aware of the depths of her feelings towards him until he’d left for the Sirona Healing Springs to recuperate. Now, with him back, her emotions were resurfacing with renewed vigor.
She remembered that night, months ago now, where she’d curled up next to him in bed, filled with fear over the Shadow-Dwellers but able to sleep because she felt safe in his arms. She also remembered their passionate kisses the next morni
ng.
“I missed you,” she said. “I wasn’t sure when, or if, I’d get to see you again.”
Quinn raised a hand and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I missed you too.”
Silence and words unspoken hung in the air between them for a few moments.
“So, how do we find the Shadow-Dweller responsible for the poisoning?” Becka asked.
“Hold on. We can’t assume that the poisoning involves them.”
“Can’t we? Woden said they would never stop until they had me.” Becka shifted onto her side.
“Exactly, they want your gift. Killing you or destroying your power would work against their stated goals.”
Becka pursed her lips, licking the still-parched skin. “Perhaps they were just trying to incapacitate me and make my powers easier to grab? I mean, if I was in Vott’s shape, then I wouldn’t be able to fight them off.”
“No, that would still at least erode your ability, if not destroy it utterly. Such a course of action wouldn’t make sense. However, as it’s an attack on you, their stated target, I don’t think we can exclude the Shadow-Dwellers from being involved. But they aren’t at the top of my list.”
“Well, then, who is?”
“Various members of House Rowan, for a start. I’m sure you have relatives who aren’t too happy you’ve returned to the fold.”
“Yeah, but enough to kill me? What have you heard about my return to House Rowan? I’m sure an enforcer would be privy to all the rumors floating around.”
Quinn’s expression turned guarded. “It’s well-known that your return to House Rowan has been bumpy.”
“And…?”
“There is concern over your ability to reintegrate into fae society. You eschew fae cultural norms and appear determined to forge your own way forward. Disruptions are anathema to our cultural soul. Not to mention, when you became heir you disrupted the previous lineage. It’s been widely noted that you haven’t adopted your family’s manner of dress and there’s talk you spend more time with your shifter help than your immediate family. House Hawthorne and their allies have concerns over your delayed marriage to Alain.”
Poisoned Shadow: An Urban Fantasy Supernatural Detective Mystery (The Shadow Series Book 2) Page 5
