No Humans Involved

by Kelley Armstrong

  Jeremy rolled his dark eyes, leapt from the garden and headed toward the next one as I refilled his hole.

  "Here comes Pete," Tansy said. "Wonder why he left his post? Uh-oh, he looks worried."

  A gray-haired man hurried down the path, his broad face gathered in concern.

  "Where is he?" Gabrielle asked.

  "Inside the house. Upstairs I think." Tansy looked at me. "Some of us took up posts, keeping an eye out. This looked like something you wouldn't want to be found doing, so we were keeping watch."

  "Oh? That's very thoughtful. Thank you."

  "Someone's watching from upstairs," the portly man--Pete--said as he drew up beside us. "The English chap. He's been looking out the window."

  "Grady? Damn! Jer--uh--boy?" I called softly. "Stay. Okay? Stay."

  Jeremy peeked from the garden a few yards down and dipped his muzzle, telling me he understood. I stepped back farther into the shadows and looked up at the house. Grady's curtains were parted, a dim glow silhouetting his figure.

  "Thanks for letting me know," I whispered to the ghost.

  "I don't think he saw--" He stopped, looking up. "Oh, he's gone. False alarm. I'll head back."

  "Wait," I said. "Your name's Pete?"

  "Peter Feeney, miss. Used to work a few blocks away. Chauffeur, gardener, butler..." He smiled. "Whatever they needed."

  "And what do you need? From me, I mean," I blurted. Alarm bells sounded in my head. But I steeled myself and pushed on. "I mean, is there anything I can do for you? I'm pretty limited. I can't find your killer or anything like that."

  Peter smiled, showing small, even teeth. "My killer was me, miss. Me and my bad habits. Now, I'd love to bring them to justice, the folks who told me all those cigarettes weren't bad for my health, but I know you can't do that." He chewed his lip, the urge to be polite warring with the fear that he'd never get another chance to speak to a necromancer. "There is something, but I know you're really busy..."

  "Go ahead."

  "It's not urgent, but maybe when you're all done, if you have the time...I'd like to find my son."

  "Has he...passed over?"

  "Oh, no. At least, I hope not. We had a falling out a few years before I died. Silly thing. They always are, aren't they? But then I passed and when I went to his old apartment to check on him, he'd moved out. I don't want to make contact--just to see him. Finding him is probably as simple as looking through an L.A. phone book or dialing 411 but..." A wry smile. "I can't do that."

  "No, of course not. But I will, as soon as I get a chance--"

  The whoosh of the screen door sliding open sounded. I froze. Peter motioned for me to stay still and the ghosts fanned out, heading for the back of the house.

  "I saw it," Grady hissed, his voice traveling through the still night air. "A dog," Claudia said.

  "Not a dog!" Grady roared before Claudia shushed him. "A demonic beast. A huge black wolf with glowing eyes and fangs as big as your fingers."

  Jeremy peeked from a bush, ears swiveled, head tilted, as if to say, "Who, me?"

  "It was a dog," Claudia said, her tone wavering between exasperation and frustration. "A large black dog. Yes, his eyes probably seemed to glow--reflected in the moonlight--but it was a dog. You've been under a lot of strain--"

  "Bloody hell, woman. Something is going on here, and if you start nattering at me about jet lag and a change in diet--"

  "Where's this wolf, Bradford?"

  "I don't know. Out there. Somewhere."

  "Are you going to take a look?"

  "For a wild beast? I'm not mad, woman."

  "Do you want me to take a look?"

  "Of course not. Just--" A sigh. "Maybe it was a dog."

  "Um-hmm."

  The scrape of shoes on patio stones. Then the whir of the patio door closing. And all went silent.

  GRADY'S LIGHT went off minutes later and stayed off. I spoke to Peter some more, getting his son's name and some other info--birthdate, last known job, schools attended--in case finding him required more than just looking it up in the phone book. Then I hurried to catch up on my paw-print-wiping duties.

  Over an hour passed. Jeremy found a dead bird and a dead cat--the former probably a casualty of the latter, which must have been a family pet before death turned it into garden fertilizer.

  I reburied the animals and followed Jeremy through the last few beds. No bodies.

  While he changed back, I stood watch, more careful now than I'd been the first time, aware of our spectral audience. Seeing my "cadaver dog" change into a man would require a more elaborate explanation than I could dream up.

  The ghosts seemed to have left, and I'd asked Eve to circle the perimeter, just to be sure. But I was still on edge, so when I heard a mutter near the neighbor's pool house, I slipped through the hedge to find Jeremy crouched on all fours near the outbuilding.

  I stammered an apology and spun around.

  He let out a soft laugh. "It's all right, Jaime. I'm human. And decent. Well...pretty much." The sound of a zipper. "There."

  "Sorry," I said as I turned. "I thought I heard someone talking."

  He bent again, as if examining the ground. "That was me. I picked up my shoe and forgot I'd tucked my watch and pocket change inside." He glanced up from his search. "Still frustrated from my lack of results, it seems."

  He brushed his hair from his face, finished gathering his spilled belongings, then stood. He was barefoot, dressed in dark jeans, his dark shirt thrown on, but still untucked and unbuttoned. His hair was tousled from the Change. Sweat-soaked stray strands clung to his face.

  I knew from Elena that the Change wasn't some Hollywood-style morphing where not a single hair gets mussed. Jeremy's face was shiny with exertion, spots of color on his cheeks, his eyes gleaming, lips parted as he caught his breath.

  My gaze traveled down his open shirt front, along the thin line of dark hair, the lean muscled chest, the flat stomach...

  My heart--and other body parts--started doing flip-flops.

  He snapped his watch back on and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to brush it into some semblance of order.

  "Sorry," he said. "I'm a bit of a mess."

  "That's okay." Really okay.

  He motioned me closer. I tried not to trip over my feet in my rush to get there. He backed farther behind the shelter of the pool house.

  "Not much chance of being spotted back here," he said, nodding at the brick wall beside us. "Grady didn't seem like he was going to raise a fuss, did he?"

  "No, Claudia convinced him nothing was there."

  He started to button his untucked shirt, leaving the top half undone. He plucked at the neck with an apologetic smile. "Hot."

  "Uh-huh."

  I was two feet away, but I swore I could feel the heat from his body, smell the faint scent of his sweat. And his eyes...They glittered with something that was not quite predatory, but different. Less civilized. Like he'd forgotten to pull that mantle of control completely back into place.

  If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd had a few glasses of wine. That's what it looked like--the gleam of slight drunkenness, that lowering of the inhibitions. I looked into his eyes and shivered, body straining against the urge to cover those last two feet--

  He did it for me. His arms went around me and he lowered his lips toward mine, but stopped short. I looked into his eyes and saw, not uncertainty, but a teasing smile. I lifted my lips an inch, covering half the distance, then said, "Your move."

  His brows arched. He brought his lips so close I could feel his breath, then waited for me to close the gap.

  "You like having me give in first, don't you?" I murmured.

  A fraction of an inch lower, lips brushing mine as he said, "No, I'm being courteous."

  "Bullshit."

  A low laugh. I hung there, in his arms, our bodies barely making contact. His hands slid up my back, his touch so light I shivered. A gentle tug as he wrapped his fingers in my hair, then brought them up to
the back of my head. His lips moved down, eyes closing, and I shut mine, reaching up for him, waiting for that first contact, expecting a kiss as soft and teasing as his touch.

  His mouth crushed against mine so hard my eyes flew open. A low growling chuckle rippled through him. He started pulling back, to soften the kiss, but I wrapped my arms around his neck and returned it hard enough to make him gasp.

  He swung me up, lifting me easily, hands going to the back of my thighs. My legs parted to wrap around him, but my skirt caught. His hands slid down my thighs and pushed my skirt up, his touch firm, fingers splayed, gripping me as they traveled up my thighs to my ass. Then he let out a soft breath of surprise.

  I pulled back from the kiss enough to say, "I don't like panty lines."

  Another delicious growl of a chuckle as his fingers dug in, pulling me against him. I wiggled until I could feel him hard against my crotch, then tightened my legs around his hips, rubbing against him.

  My hands dropped to his sides and squeezed between us, finding the button of his pants, then...

  I broke the kiss. He dove to find it, but I brought my hands to the sides of his face, holding him back. His dark eyes wavered there, his face indistinct, my vision still clouded with lust.

  "Just a second," I said as I squirmed from his grip and lowered myself to the ground. "I think I'm making this too easy for you."

  "Easy?" The word was almost a growl. "Do you know how many times I've thought of this in the past year...and had to see you at council meetings and pretend the idea never even entered my mind?"

  A quiver of excitement raced through me. So he hadn't been as oblivious--or immune--as he'd pretended. It was almost enough to make me throw myself into his arms. Almost...

  "A year?" I murmured. "That's nothing."

  I lowered my lips to the base of his throat and tickled my tongue up to his chin, tasting his sweat.

  "If it hasn't been easy, you have only yourself to blame," I said. "I've been here, ready and willing the whole time."

  I leaned against him. My fingers skated over his hip, then stroked the back of his thigh, heading between his legs. His growl sent tremors through me and I had to stop for a breath before looking up at him.

  "Four years, Jeremy, and I'm thinking..." I looked into his eyes. "Maybe you can wait a little longer. Just to be fair."

  I inched back, my hands going to his chest, as if to ward him off, but sliding under his shirt, feeling his heart thumping under my fingers, feeling the beat of his quickened breathing, the sheen of sweat over his lean, muscled chest...all of which didn't make it any easier for me, but I closed my eyes and savored the tease. Then, his shirt parted, I leaned forward, my nipples pressing hard against the silk, brushing them against his chest as I arched up on tiptoes, kissing the bottom of his throat, tongue sliding out to feel his pulse. He shuddered, but didn't move, and I wondered how long he'd stand there, and what I could do to tease him, to tease both of us, to break that legendary control...

  I swallowed a moan and stepped back.

  "It's late," I murmured. "I should get inside. Are you coming tomorrow?"

  A pause. "Well, apparently, that depends on you."

  I choked on a laugh and swatted his arm. "I meant to the house. Breakfast is at nine." I looked up at him. "As for the rest...we'll see."

  I turned and started to walk away.

  "Are you sure?" he called after me. "When I've had time to clear my head, I might change my mind."

  "Oh, I think I can change it back."

  I could feel his gaze glued to me as I sauntered off around to the front of the house.

  UP IN my room, I let out a deep, shuddering sigh. Part of me screamed that I'd gone crazy. I could have had Jeremy in my bed--or in the backyard--tonight. Wasn't that what I wanted? What I dreamed of? I should have seized on the chance before the adrenaline rush of his Change passed and he realized he wasn't ready yet.

  But that was exactly why I'd walked away. Because if he wasn't ready, I didn't want him. I wasn't taking the chance that he'd wake in the morning, apologizing and backpedaling furiously. Let him sleep on it and make up his mind. Because that's how I had to win Jeremy--body and mind--or I'd never keep him.

  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 believed 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 through 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.<
br />
  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.