He drew back first. I was breathless and a little disoriented. There was a look on his face--delight, I think--with the effect the kiss had had on me.
It took me two tries to find my voice. "Too good to be true, oh, yeah definitely."
He laughed then, and I wasn't sure I'd ever heard him laugh before. It was a good sound. "I can't tell you how much it means to see that look in your eyes."
"What look?"
He smiled, and he was suddenly all male, pride, pleased with himself, and something else--almost embarrassed. He touched my face. "I love the way you look at me."
It made me lower my eyes, and I blushed, even though I wasn't thinking a damn thing that was sexual.
He laughed again, a surprised burst of sound that held so much joy. He laughed the way children laugh before they learn to hide how they feel. He picked me up around the waist and swung me around the kitchen.
I would have told him to put me down, but I was laughing too hard.
"I hate to interrupt," Donovan Reece, the swan king, said from the doorway, "but I told them you'd help us." He frowned at us, his pale, pale skin, showing almost no lines, as if his skin was like the water that his alter form swam upon. He had obviously decided not to wait outside.
I asked, still held above the ground in Micah's arms, "Help you do what?"
He shrugged. "Nothing important, just find some missing alphas and try to convince the Kadru of the werecobras that her Kashyapa, her mate, isn't dead, just missing with the rest. Trouble is," Reece said, "I think she's right. I think he's dead."
Micah let me slide back to the ground. I wondered if my face looked as grim as his. Marianne tells me that the universe/deity loves me and wants me to be happy. So why is it that every time I get a little happy all hell breaks loose? The message seems clear, and it's not about love.
44
DONOVAN REECE HAD curled up on the far end of my white couch. He was dressed in blue jeans so faded they were almost white. His pale pink shirt brought out the natural pink and blue undertones of his near translucent skin -- He was beautiful, but not in the way a man or woman is beautiful, in the way a statue or a painting is beautiful, as if he wasn't quite real. Maybe it was because I knew that he had baby swan feathers on his chest, but of all the people in the room he seemed the most surrealistic.
A tall woman with hair almost as white as his sat on the arm of the couch by him. Her pants were black leather, her loose-fitting blouse a pink that matched his shirt, almost. I'm not sure I would have remembered the woman if the other two hadn't been kneeling on the floor at their feet. The second blond's hair was pale yellow and matched her long summer dress. The brunette's hair fell like a curtain around a navy blue dress with tiny white daisies all over it. The swanmanes that we'd saved from the club were all looking at me with large, almost fearful eyes.
I only recognized one person other than the swan king and his entourage. I'd met Christine for the first time at the Lunatic Cafe back when Raina still owned it, and Marcus, her Ulfric, was still trying to control all the other wereanimals in town and make himself high supreme commander, whether everyone else agreed or not. Christine's hair was still blond, short, professional. She was dressed in a navy business suit. Her powder blue shirt was partially unbuttoned, as if she'd removed a tie, though I don't think she had. She was perched on the other end of the couch from Donovan, her sensible navy pumps still on. Almost everyone else had gotten casual. There were a pile of shoes near my front door.
"Hi, Christine, it's been a while," I said.
She looked up at me, and it wasn't a friendly look. "I'm impressed you remembered my name."
"I tend to remember people I meet under stressful situations."
I got the tiniest smile out of her. "Well, we do seem to meet under less than pleasant circumstances," she said.
Donovan took over then, introducing me to the man and woman sitting between them. They were both dark-complected. Their bone structure was pure middle America, nothing special, but their eyes were too big, too dark, the hair truly black. There was something exotic about them that straight European just doesn't give you. They also looked amazingly alike, like male and female versions of each other. They were Ethan and Olivia MacNair, respectively.
The man in my white chair was bulky, not muscled, or fat, just big. He had the fullest beard I'd ever seen. The thick hair covered most of his face and neck. He was introduced as Boone, and the moment he turned small dark eyes to me, I knew he was something that would eat me if it could. Not wolf, not cat, but something with teeth.
His voice was a rumbling bass, so low it almost hurt to hear it. "Ms. Blake."
I nodded. "Mr. Boone."
He shook his head, the dark beard rubbing back and forth over his white shirt. "Just Boone, no mister."
"Boone," I said.
Nathaniel, Zane, and Cherry were bringing in kitchen chairs so the last four people could sit down. Two women, two men, were left. One man was slender with golden red hair, and strangely up-tilted green eyes. He sat on the floor huddled against the side of the couch as if he were hiding.
"That's Gilbert," Donovan said.
"Gil," he said, voice almost too soft to hear.
The woman was tall, nearly six feet, broad-shouldered, strong-looking. Her hair was brown, streaked with gray, pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail. Her face was bare of makeup. She offered me a hand, and gave me one of the best handshakes I've ever had from another woman. Her brown eyes were deep with worry, as she said, "I'm Janet Talbot. It's good of you to see us all on such short notice."
"I didn't come here to make small talk." This from a woman who was standing on the far side of the room, near the big picture window. She was looking out through the closed sheers, hands gripping her elbows, nervous tension singing along her straight spine, as she turned to face the room. I could see where Ethan and Olivia had gotten the dark skin and their exotic look. Nilisha MacNair was about my size but even more delicately put together, so that she seemed smaller. A man might think words like birdlike, kittenish, until he looked in her eyes. Once you looked into those dark, dark eyes, you knew better. The eyes gave the lie to the packaging. She was hell on wheels and used to getting her own way.
A man stood near her, but not too near. He was as tall, as blond, as pale, as she was small, black-haired, and dark. He was also muscled in a way that nature does not do. His shoulders were broad, waist narrow, hands large enough to palm her entire head, yet he was clearly afraid of her. Oh, it was bodyguard deferential, but there was real fear there, too.
Merle was leaning casually near the big blond man. I didn't know where Caleb was, and didn't care.
"I am the Kadra, and the Kashyapa, who is dead, is my husband." Nilisha MacNair let out a sudden breath that shook, then she regained control like a mountain squeezing downward. "Was my husband."
"Father is not dead," Olivia said. "I won't let you make him dead by giving up."
Her brother, Ethan, touched her arm, as if trying to soothe her or tell her to shut up. She ignored him.
But the damage was done; the fight was on. "How dare you? How dare you say that I would make him dead? I am merely facing the truth."
Olivia stood up, shaking off her brother's hand. "You just can't stand the fact that he was with another woman when it happened."
The fight went downhill from there. Apparently Henry MacNair, patriarch of the clan, had been leaving his mistress and fellow werecobra's house, when someone had taken him. No body was found, but a lot of blood was left behind. There had been signs of a struggle, a car on its side, a good-sized tree torn up. When wereanimals struggle, they struggle.
I actually learned quite a bit from the fight, but when it was reduced to the two women screaming at each other from less than a foot away, some of it not even in English, I'd had enough.
I looked across the room at Donovan. He had brought them to my house, after all. He shrugged. Basically, he didn't know what to do either.
; I had visions of dumping water over their heads, but decided that it might just work better to leave the room. I motioned the others into the kitchen, and they all trooped out. It was as the last of them were leaving the room that the shouting began to die down. Then Nilisha's voice. "Where are you all going?"
Janet Talbot spoke for all of us. "Some place quieter."
I couldn't see the women's faces, but I could almost smell the embarrassment on the air. Not wereanimal ability, just a good guess.
"Please," Olivia said, "please, I do apologize. Please come back."
Everyone started trickling back into the room. Nilisha actually took a chair with the blond bodyguard behind her. "We are all very worried about my husband."
"Worried about him, Mama?" Olivia said.
The woman nodded, smiled. "Yes, worried."
"He's not dead," the girl said.
"If you can have hope, so can I."
They smiled at each other like bright mirrors, so alike in that one moment. Ethan looked relieved, but he didn't smile.
"Alright, besides Henry MacNair, who else is missing?"
"My son, Andy," Janet Talbot said. She handed me a snapshot of a young man with her brown hair, cut short, but his features were softer than hers. He was handsome, bordering on pretty. "He looks like his father." She said it, as if strangers had remarked on the lack of resemblance before. I wouldn't have said a damn thing.
"Our Ursa," Boone said, "I didn't think to bring a picture."
"Ursa, bear, your queen?" I made it a question.
He nodded that massive, bearded head, and I wondered how I'd missed it. "She went out to pick up a few things at the store and never came back. No signs of a struggle, just gone."
I looked at Gil of the green eyes. "Who'd you misplace?"
He shook his head. "No one, I'm just scared."
I looked at Christine. "How 'bout you?"
"I'm here as a representative for the weres that only have one or two members. Those of us who have chosen St. Louis because there were no others like us. I'm the only weretiger in town, so I haven't lost anybody, but we've lost one werelion."
"I don't suppose the missing lion is named Marco?"
Christine shook her head. "No, Joseph, why?"
Donovan answered, "The lion man was named Marco."
"Oh" she said.
"And," Donovan added, "Joseph isn't able to change that close to human. No one I know of can change that close to human and hold it without changing."
Christine continued as if I hadn't spoken. Focused, Christine was always focused. "Joseph's mate is pregnant. Amber would be here but she's under complete bed rest until the baby is born."
"Until she loses it, you mean," Cherry said.
I glanced at her. "You say that like she's lost some before."
"This is her third try," Cherry said.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Losing her ... mate must not be helping her stress levels."
"That is an understatement," Christine said.
"She's a fool to keep trying," Cherry said. "We can't carry a baby to term, and that's that."
I looked at her again. "Pass that by me again, slowly."
"The change is too violent, it causes miscarriage." Cherry said it matter of factly, then I watched her understand what she'd just said, and she whispered, "Anita, I didn't ... you shouldn't have had to find out this way. I'm sorry."
I shrugged, then shook my head. "But the MacNairs have two children. I'm looking at them. Janet has a son."
"My type of shapeshifting is inherited," Janet said. "It's not tied to the moon. I avoided shapeshifting until after Andy was born."
I looked at Nilisha. "I am a werecobra. I can choose to try and carry a baby like a mammal or like a snake."
"You laid eggs?" I made that one a big question.
She nodded. "I couldn't have carried them in my body. The change is too hard. But I had other options."
The unspoken, but you don't, hung on the air. It was too hard to think about. It wasn't like I'd ever considered having children. I mean, get real, with my life? Out loud, I said, "One problem at a time. So who disappeared first?"
Henry MacNair was the first victim, and had had the most struggle. Then, the werelion, Joseph; Andy Talbot, weredog, as it turned out; and last the Ursa of the bears, Rebecca Morton.
The last time we'd had this many wereanimals missing, it had been the old swan king who was delivering them over to be hunted by illegal thrill seekers.
I looked at Donovan Reece. He either read my mind or anticipated it. "Interesting coincidence that I come into town about the same time everyone goes missing, isn't it."
"Gee, Donovan, you read my mind."
"I swear to you that I know nothing of this."
Nilisha said, "I know all about the betrayal of the last swan king. But I am betting my husband's life that Donovan is innocent of all this."
I shrugged. "We'll see."
"You do not trust my judgment," she said.
"I don't trust much of anyone's judgment but mine. Nothing personal."
Olivia touched her arm. "Mother."
Nilisha took a deep breath and calmed down. The day was looking up.
"The first thing I'm going to suggest is that we call in the police."
Nobody liked that idea. "Look, they have resources that I don't, computer searches, forensics."
"No," Nilisha said, "no, we must handle this among ourselves."
"I know the rule is that we don't bring in the human authorities, but guys, we have four missing, and they made a run at the swans and the leopards already."
"You think the snake people and their pet lion are behind this?" Donovan asked.
"It would be too big a coincidence if they weren't," I said.
"I agree," Micah said. He'd been very quiet through everything, carefully not standing or sitting too close, as if he didn't want to confuse things. He was letting me be in charge without hovering.
"Okay, then who are these guys, and what the hell would they want with a variety of shapeshifters?"
We talked for a couple of hours but didn't come up with anything brilliant. The snakemen were behind it. But why? Why would any wereanimals give a shit about other wereanimals that weren't their kind? If it had just been the werecobras targeted, then maybe it could be a reptile turf war, though frankly, it was unusual to have a fight even between two different kinds of snakes. The town was big enough for everybody as long as they weren't the same species.
I thought Nilisha MacNair was right and her husband was dead. If people kidnap someone and don't want money, they want worse things, usually things that include blood, pain, and, eventually, death. They were probably all dead, and if they weren't, we needed the police in on it to keep them alive.
It turned out that everyone had reported their people missing, neglecting to mention the part about being wereanimals. "But don't you see, the police have a twenty-one-year-old college senior missing, a forty-five-year-old husband, a thirty-something single woman, and a thirty-something married man. Other than the fact that they're all Caucasian, there is no common denominator to link up these cases. But if I can tell the police they are all wereanimals, then that's the link. You guys live all over the city. You have different police units working on each case. They'll never make the connection, unless we tell them what the connection is."
Janet Talbot nodded first. "Andy's almost got his pre-med degree. If they find out what he is, he'll never be a doctor, but I want him safe more than I want anything right now. So I agree, go to the police."
"I can't speak for Amber," Christine said, "but I'm pretty sure she'd agree."
"I should ask the others first, but the hell with it, find Rebecca for us, even if that means bringing in the cops," Boone said.
We all turned to Nilisha MacNair. "No, if they find out, we are all ruined."
Olivia took her hand. Ethan knelt in front of her. "Mother, without father what does it matter?"
I wasn't sure
she'd agree since he'd been cheating on her, but she nodded and she agreed. Love is a funny thing sometimes. But whatever the motive, it meant I could talk to Dolph, and I wouldn't even have to lie.
45
DOLPH ANSWERED ON the second ring. "Dolph." He never said, Regional Preternatural Investigation Team, or even police, just his name, not even his last name, not even his full first name, just "Dolph," or "Dolph, here." Did anyone ever complain? Somehow I doubted it.
He sounded as close to surprised as he ever gets. "Anita, I didn't expect to hear from you until we'd at least finished the paperwork on the last batch of bodies." I heard a man's voice, but couldn't tell what was said. Dolph came back on. "Zerbrowski says that if you killed someone else just hide the body, he's not starting over on the paperwork."
"I know enough about procedure to know that he'd have to start a new report anyway. Separate crime, separate report, right?"
"Do you really have a fresh body out there?" He sounded tired, but not surprised.
"No," I said.
"Then how do we rate a call?"
"I have information pertaining to several crimes and the permission of those involved to tell you the truth, the whole truth. Now, isn't that refreshing?"
I could almost feel him sitting up over the phone. "I'm a cop, truth is always refreshing, so dazzle me."
I told him. As I'd suspected, the MacNair case was already on the roster for Dolph and the gang, but it was the first he'd heard of the others.
"I interviewed the wife personally. She kept saying she had no idea why some monster would attack her husband. It might have helped us find him if we'd known."
"Dolph, they run a restaurant. If it gets out that they're shapeshifters, they may lose it."
"Board of Health can't shut them down for this."
"No, but word will get out, and the customers will start to worry. You know it, and I know it."
"No one will find out from my people. You have my word on it."
"Yeah, but how many other departments are involved? How many nonpolice are at every crime scene, not to mention clerical workers? It'll come out, Dolph, eventually it'll come out."
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