by Trisha Telep
“Your ex?”
“There’s no way I’d give that greedy bitch a dime.” He turned back to face her. “I named you as my heir. So unless you set me up . . .”
She was stunned. “You named me as your heir? Why would you do that?”
His temper, never far away, blazed hot. “Damn it, Joss, after the day we just spent in that bed, all but killing each other with the heat between us, you have to ask a stupid question like that? How many ways do I have to show you that I love you? Until this mess blew up in my face, I was on my way to claim you.”
Shock shorted out her ability to think. “You love me?”
He stared at her, the same intensity in his eyes, but his voice was gentle. “Yes, Josalyn, I love you. What’s more, you love me.”
He didn’t sound convinced of that last part, so maybe it was more a question. Well, if he could confess all, so could she. She dropped the pile of papers on the bed to step into his arms.
“Oh, yeah, I love you.” Then she kissed him for a long time.
Finally, breaking away, he rested his forehead against hers, bringing them both back to the matter at hand. “As much as I’d like to continue this particular discussion, you sounded as if you were on the trail of something important.
“What? Oh, yes, the papers.” She fumbled through them to the right page. “Someone has a lien against your estate. We need to know who and why.”
She booted up her computer and typed in a request for the information. Marking it as high priority, she sat back and waited for someone at the other end to scramble into action. The answer wasn’t long in coming.
She scanned the page. “I think they’re claiming a breach of contract.”
Rafferty crouched down to look over her shoulder. He ran his finger down the screen cursing. “The damn bitch didn’t even bother to cover her tracks. She probably figured the Coalition wouldn’t pick up on the company name ‘Part-E Inc’, but that I would. Unscramble the letters and you have her name. Petra still wants her pound of flesh. It’s not enough to kill me, she wants my money, too.”
Josalyn looked disgusted. “The court wouldn’t look any further than to make sure the claim came from a legitimate company. If her name isn’t on the paperwork, they would have no reason to suspect anything. Well, Petra doesn’t know who she’s messing with.” The female would be luvky if she didn’t end up spending the rest of her centuries locked in the cell Rafferty had vacated.
Josalyn’s fangs came out, a predator ready for the hunt. “Now I can call her in for a talk.”
Rafferty leaned in to slide his fingertips over the sharp points of her canines before kissing her. “This should be good. Can I watch?”
Common sense reared its ugly head. “No, and I’m going to call in a second Chancellor because we need to tread carefully. It’s not enough to prove that the lien is false. We need to get her on the murder charge or the two of you could end up in adjoining cells.”
His expression sobered. “Until my execution.”
She nodded. “Like I said, we need her confession. But if she’s being this reckless, it shouldn’t be hard.”
It took Josalyn more time than they could really afford to track down Ambrose, her boss, and convince him that she needed his assistance. Chancellors were supposed to be able to handle any situation. Short of telling him that she was sleeping with her prisoner, she had to rely on convincing him that Petra’s family connections merited special care.
Once she had him convinced, she issued the order under his name to have Petra brought in for questioning regarding the prisoner contesting the lien. Then there was nothing left to do but wait.
Petra swept into the meeting room an hour late for her appointment and with a handful of lackeys trailing in behind her. Ambrose gave Josalyn a brief look, arching an eyebrow at the parade. He wouldn’t have questioned Petra’s decision to bring legal representation, but this group looked more like she’d been called away from a social event and had brought the party with her.
If Ambrose had doubts about Josalyn’s assessment of the case, they were gone now. The smug look Petra gave the two Chancellors sealed her fate. Even if Ambrose thought Rafferty was guilty, he wouldn’t take the woman’s casual disregard of protocol lightly.
In chilling tones, he expressed his displeasure. “Unless one of these people is your attorney, they can wait outside. They will also pay the same fine as you for keeping us waiting. The amount will increase geometrically for each additional second they remain in my presence.”
The crowd hissed in shock and scurried for the door, leaving Petra sputtering in indignation. She shot a venomous look at Josalyn. “What is she doing here?”
“You know very well why I’m here Petra. I’m in charge of Rafferty’s case.”
“What? He hasn’t been executed yet?” Her smile turned nasty. “Do they know you two were lovers when you were on the Council?”
Ambrose slammed his hand down on the table. “Madam, you will treat this hearing with the respect it deserves. Chancellor Sloan’s prior relationship with her prisoner is none of your concern. However, this bogus lien against his estate is.”
“The lien is legitimate, There was a breach of contract.” Petra shot a nasty look in Josalyn’s direction. “The accused ended our betrothal. His action cost me a great deal of money and emotional pain.”
Ambrose clearly wasn’t buying it. “Broken betrothals are hardly a rarity among the vampires. And considering you’ve broken at least one betrothal yourself, I have a difficult time believing that this was little more than an inconvenience.”
Josalyn decided it was time to toss more fuel on the fire. “I’m sure it can’t have anything to do with the fact that you believe Rafferty ended your betrothal because of his friendship with me.”
“Friendship! We both know it was more than that.” Petra’s pretty face wasn’t quite so lovely when contorted with rage. “You Chancellors think you’re above the rest of us, but you’re half-breeds at best. With Rafferty’s lineage, he should be executed for consorting with the likes of you.”
Rafferty was supposed to wait in the next room until he heard himself summoned, but he wasn’t going to sit around and listen to Josalyn be insulted. He strolled into the conference room. Ignoring his ex-fiancée, he moved to stand between the two women.
Just as he expected. Petra immediately turned on him. “What are you doing walking around free? I thought you’d be dead by now.”
“You mean you hoped I’d be dead by now.” He nodded in Ambrose’s direction. “I apologise for barging in uninvited, Chancellors. I’d also apologise for Petra’s manners, if she had any.” He glanced in her direction. It wouldn’t take much more prodding to make her lose all control of her tongue. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”
Josalyn smiled. “Not at all. I believe we were about to deny the lien on your estate as being without merit. Any monies, after legitimate costs are deducted, will go to your heir.”
“Good. I’m relieved to hear that. I wouldn’t want the woman who framed me for murder to profit from my death. I hope you’ll think of me when you spend my money, Josalyn.” He held his breath, waiting for the explosion.
It didn’t take long. Petra screamed and charged towards him, her fangs running out. “I should have simply killed you myself, you bastard! It’s not too late!”
It took both Ambrose and Josalyn to pull the enraged vampire off of him. No matter how much he hated her, Rafferty didn’t want to be the one to kill her.
Once Petra had been subdued, Ambrose called for the guards. “You will be charged with both the murder of the human and the attempted murder of Mr O’Day. Your assets are hereby frozen to cover the cost of your trial and to compensate Mr O’Day for any inconvenience he’s suffered at your hands.”
Petra was still cursing them as the guards dragged her away. Once age was gone, Ambrose turned his attention to Josalyn and Rafferty. “You two played a very dangerous game. If she’d controlled her
mouth, you would’ve been on your way back for immediate execution.”
“It was a chance we had to take.” Josalyn looked pale. Clearly the strain of the past few days had been hard on her.
“I’ll need your resignation by the end of the week, Chancellor Sloan.”
Rafferty snarled, “But she –”
“Enough!” Ambrose included both of them in his glance. “Chancellors have to be neutral. You both know that. Looking back, I realize her feelings for you are the real reason she left her position as Arbitrator. And the way you leaped to her defence only confirms my opinion. Your last duty as Chancellor will be to write up the paperwork exonerating Mr O’Day here of any wrongdoing. I would do it, but I’ll be busy with the charges against his ex-betrothed.
Rafferty tried to feel some sympathy for Petra, but couldn’t. “If you need my testimony . . .”
“I’ll let you know when I’ve had time to review the case in its entirety.”
Josalyn took Rafferty’s hand and faced her superior. “Thank you for your assistance Chancellor. For the record, I’m sorry, Petra is guilty of a lot of things, but she did have some cause to resent my feelings for Rafferty.”
“I’ll take that into consideration.” Ambrose gathered up the papers. “Now I must be going. I imagine the two of you have plans to make.”
Rafferty held his hand out to the older man. “That we do, sir. Would you like an invitation to the wedding?”
Ambrose smiled for the first time as he shook Rafferty’s hand. “Most certainly.”
When he was gone, Josalyn pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Rafferty realized he’d been a bit high-handed announcing their intent to get married before discussing it with her.
“About this wedding . . .”
“I should have asked you first.”
“Yes, you should have, but for the record, I accept. But there’s one thing you should know.
The twinkle in her eyes told him it was going to be all right. “And what’s that?”
She grabbed his collar and pulled his face down close to hers. “I don’t believe in long engagements.”
Then she kissed him.
Coming Home
Lilith Saintcrow
Even a magus raised by a demon might have a little trouble with this. Liana Spocarelli’s hand locked around the doorknob, her other hand cramped tight around the katana’s scabbard. “What the hell do you want?
The Nichtvren on her porch – a tall, deceptively slight male with a shock of dirty blond hair and the face of a celluloid angel – tilted his head slowly, his hands in the pockets of his linen trousers. His aura was the deep, deliciously wicked fume of colourless Power that meant not-so-human, without the pleasant edge of spice attached to so many of her childhood memories.
“It is a pleasure to see you again, cherie,” Tiens said quietly. His suit, as always, was wrinkled, rumpled and pristinely white. “May I come in?”
“No, you may not.” Liana let go of the doorknob. “Go suck on some virgins or something. Leave me alone.”
Behind him, the night breathed, redolent with rain and cold metal, the edge of radioactive damp that meant Saint City.
Home. And here she was, all the way across the city from any house that was hers. Specks of hovercraft glow danced overhead, a river of fireflies.
“La Belle Morte, ta mere, said I should not come.”
Well now, isn’t that special. Since she can’t leave me alone, she tells you to. Her cheeks burned, the clawed triple-circle tattoo moving and tingling in response to the weight of Power covering him. Nichtvren night-hunting masters: the top of the paranormal food chain – except for demons.
Always except for demons. Liana’s arm loosened, dangling her sword. “How’s Jaf?” The irony of inquiring about the wellbeing of a Fallen demon didn’t escape her.
“M’sieu is well. He also said I should not come. He said my welcome would be uncertain at best.” Tiens’ thin lips curved into a smile, his eyes gas-flame blue holes in the dimness. The single bulb on her porch was deliberately weak; a bright light would disturb her night vision.
Besides, she hadn’t got round to changing it.
“I wouldn’t call it uncertain, Tiens. I’d call it nonexistent. I repeat, what the ever-loving hell do you want?”
“Your help, petite sorciere.” The smile dropped as quickly as it had bloomed, and he was once again the familiar Tiens of her childhood, ageless and accessible at once, the object of her painful schoolgirl crush and the last broken heart she’d ever allowed herself. “I have a death I must achieve.”
Her entire body went cold. “I’m no contract killer, Tiens. Go ask Dante, I’m sure she’ll be more than helpful. Goodnight.” She stepped back, sweeping the door closed, and wasn’t surprised when he put up one elegant hand. The heavy iron door stopped cold, as if it had met a brick wall.
“She cannot interfere, and neither can M’sieu. I need you, Liana.”
“Go away.” She retreated two steps, realized her mistake, but by then he was already in the hall. “I didn’t invite you in.”
“When have you ever left me on the cold doorstep?” If he meant it whimsically, he must have realized it was a mistake. The air stilled, and she realized any other psion in her place would be utterly nervous to have a Nichtvren in her hallway.
“I thought you bloodsucking maniacs couldn’t cross a threshold without an invitation,” she returned, as coldly as her hammering heart would allow. She turned on her bare heel and headed for the kitchen. Her right hand itched for the hilt, but there was a plasgun under the counter that would serve better. Habit and instinct sent her hand to the sword most times, probably the result of growing up in a house where katana was a metaphor for any combat, any honour, any guilt. Dante’s standard response for any problem was to slice it in half.
Not that there was anything wrong with that, as far as Liana could see.
“Liana.” He tried again. “I am . . . sorry. I did not mean to wound you.”
But you did. That was uncharitable, however, and worse untrue. He had simply, kindly, refused her, because she was too young and human besides. Only human. Even if she was a combat-trained magi.
God, how I wish I was something else. Even a sex witch would be better than this. “Shut the door, Tiens. And make sure you’re on the other side of it.”
“I have asked for your help, petite. I am desperate.” He even sounded the part, his usually melodious voice suddenly ragged. “I will beg, of it pleases you.”
Liana shut her eyes, put out her right hand, and touched the wall. It thrummed under her fingers, the house’s defences humming along as if a Nichtvren hadn’t stepped right through them. Of course, he knew her work and, if she had to be honest, she hadn’t really wanted to keep him out, had she?”
“It’s not even me you want.” Her throat was dry, the words a harsh croak. “It’s the glove.”
He drew in a breath to speak – and wasn’t that a joke, because Nichtvren didn’t need to breathe. They only did it when they needed to seduce someone into something. Liana shook her head. The sword in her left hand made a faint noise through its scabbard, a high, thin note as her distress communicated itself through the metal.
This is your honour, Liana. It must never touch the ground.
“Don’t bother lying to me again, Tiens.” Even to herself she sounded strange. “Just shut the goddamn door. I’m going to make some tea.” She took an experimental step. All her appendages seemed to be working just fine. “When you’re ready, come into the kitchen and tell me who you want me to kill.”
“She arrives on a private transport, midnight tomorrow. Nikolai cannot interfere, as I am not his vassal.” Tiens stared into the blue mug full of hibiscus tea – astringent enough that a Nichtvren could drink it without severe stomach cramps, red enough that it could be pale blood. Still hr merely inhaled its fragrance and watched her with those blue, blue eyes.
“What about Jaf? Can’t he make her go away?”
<
br /> “He has . . . other worries.”
Story of my life. Worries other than us petty mortals. He’s busy keeping Dante from chewing at her cage or her own wrists, busy keeping the Tithe back from Saint City, busy dealing with the Hegemony’s demands. Busy, busy, busy. “Which don’t include taking care of you right now?”
“I have not asked, Liana. M’sieu has enough problems.” He frowned, every line on his face drawn for aesthetic effect.
“So why do you want to kill this Amelie, anyway?” Liana tapped her bitten fingernails against the counter. This city was too cold. She’d fled south as soon as she’d finished her Academy schooling and never looked back.
Right. Never looked back. That’s why I’m here now.
His blue, blue eyes tilted up, and there was a shadow in them she didn’t care to name. “She is my Maker. And she has come to reclaim me, or to make trouble for M’sieu. Either way, she must be dealt with. And where else can I turn if not to you?”
Not fair. So not fair. But Liana’s fingers tightened and a flush rose on her throat. “She’s your Maker, so you can’t attack her. How in the hell am I supposed to –”
“I can distract her by fighting her command. I am old and a Master in my own right, petite. I will keep her occupied, you take her head and free me. Easy, no?”
“Nothing’s ever easy,” Liana muttered. I sound like Dante. Well, I should, she raised me. “How the hell am I supposed to kill a Nichtvren? I’m mortal, Tiens. As you reminded me until you were blue in the face.”
“Separate her head from her body. It will not be so hard.” He paused, as if there was more to say.
Liana sighed, rolled her head back on her shoulders, easing the tension creeping up her neck. “You want me to risk my neck decapitating your Master. Why should I?”
“There is no other I would trust.” He didn’t give her a wide-eyed, dewy, innocent stare, but the way he dropped his gaze into his tea was almost as bad. Liana half expected to hear a splash. “You would grind my heart to powder if you could, and I do not blame you. Betrayal, however, is not in your nature.”
