"Grave robbing might be," Dominguez said, apparently still considering our conversation. "I'd have to look it up. It's the kind of law that gets put on the books and forgotten about. Even if it were illegal, it wouldn't be a federal crime. That's state. Maybe even city."
"What about slavery?"
"Owning slaves is definitely against the law. The Emancipation Proclamation came direct from President Lincoln so that would qualify as federal issue. Except they're dead, right? Corpses are classified as property, not people." Dominguez stopped for a moment. He chewed on his lip, and then shot me an annoyed glance. "You've got me talking about zombies again, haven't you?"
I smiled and nodded.
"Well, quit," he said. "It makes my head hurt."
"I have that effect on people." I smiled.
He chuckled. That little boy smile flashed across his face for a moment. "Aw," he said, and he ruffled my hair. I don't know if it was residue from the love spell or the awkwardness of having gotten so deeply intimate because of the enchantment, but we both started at the contact. I jumped. He snatched his hand back. We stared at each other guiltily.
"You're not hexing me again, are you?" His eyes were narrowed and suspicious.
I did my best Bullwinkle impression. "Nothing up my sleeves."
Dominguez smiled a little, but seemed unconvinced.
"It didn't work very well last time," I pointed out.
"I'd disagree with that," he said, his eyes sliding from mine. He tapped the flat of the book against his thigh.
Behind me, I heard a sharp rap on the window. I turned, expecting to see someone. Instead I was eye to beady black eye with a crow. I frowned at it, and it flapped away.
Weird.
I looked at Dominguez, wishing I'd had better luck trying to enlist his help with the whole zombie thing. He was so damned single-minded. Plus, I really wanted to ask him more about what he planned to do about me, but the line "anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law" kept echoing through my mind.
"I'm going to level with you, Ms. Lacey—"
"Garnet," I insisted again.
"—Interpol is breathing down my neck to close this case. Apparently, the Vatican is pressuring them, and they've been threatening to step in if I can't get the murderer found in a reasonable amount of time. Those kinds of jurisdiction fights make my boss cranky."
Dominguez flipped the book onto a nearby table where it landed with a startlingly loud thud. I jumped. The man sitting behind the book checkout glared us at.
"You're my only link to Daniel Parrish. He's proven to be a surprisingly slick customer. I caught a break when you surfaced here in Madison."
"You think Parrish did it? Why?"
He gave me a long, measuring glance. "We recovered his van. We have a witness that saw him and his van entering Lakewood Cemetery, where the bodies were discovered, and at the scene of what had at first appeared to be an unrelated arson."
I'd read about the fire much later in the Star Tribune. The covenstead had burned to the ground. The place was so thoroughly destroyed the authorities had trouble positively identifying the bodies of my coven, who, it had been presumed, died in the fire—though Parrish and I knew the truth. The Vatican assassins killed them. Parrish admitted to me that he'd burned the place. He said it would help muddy the trail back to me. Apparently, he'd forgotten about himself.
"A car rented by Sergio Vitale, one of the missing priests, connected the two crimes. It was parked outside of the house Mr. Parrish very likely torched."
I held my breath.
"When I looked into the arson, I found…" He glanced away momentarily, and I watched his jaw work as he decided what to tell me. "A pattern our office has seen before. Seems that there are a number of unsolved murder cases that, let's just say, appear to revolve around the pagan community and a group of foreign nationals hailing from Vatican City."
I nodded. "The Order of Eustace." I'd already told him all about this. At least I hadn't placed myself on the scene. I'd only said that I knew the order had taken out my coven, I didn't say I'd seen it. Unless, of course, Dominguez read it out of my mind.
"I started to follow up with whatever Wiccan organizations I could find. Of course, nobody talked. If they did, they weren't terribly helpful since nobody seems to know anybody's real name. I could never even piece together all the dead coven members, until I switched gears and asked about Mr. Parrish. Turns out nobody much likes him, and they were happy to drop him in it."
And me, by extension.
"Mr. Parrish had a whole bunch of girlfriends who remembered you as the jealous one." He flashed me an I'm-not-sure-I-approve-of-your-hippie-free-lovin'-ways sideways glance. "Some even figured you for a Witch. Suddenly, I thought maybe Parrish might have stepped in to protect you against the… whatever."
"Order," I supplied again. "And now?"
"Now my theory has some wrinkles."
I wished like hell at this moment I could look deeply into Dominguez's eyes and say, "I swear I didn't do it." When the moment passed, I heard his soft sigh and got the distinct impression he wished I could have too.
"Why don't you tell me what happened? You said you were ready to talk."
Yeah, that's when I thought I was deep in it, when I figured I had nothing to lose.
Studying the beige carpeting with great interest, he said, "Listen, Ms. Lacey, I already know. You broadcast your guilt every time you see me."
But if I say it out loud, it's a confession. It's evidence.
Dominguez watched me closely for a long moment, and then his face fell in disappointment. He took in a deep breath. He glanced at me, then away again. "I can't exactly blame you for operating in your own self-interest. Of course, there's always Mr. Parrish's version of this story to consider. When my guys catch up with him, is he going to roll over on you?"
I chewed on my lip, considering. Tough call. As much as Parrish would like to consider himself an honorable gentleman, the truth of the matter was, he wasn't. More to the point, his own sense of self-preservation was highly, highly honed. He wouldn't have survived two hundred years as a vampire if it weren't. I shrugged.
"Interpol is going to chew my ass."
I opened my mouth to tell Dominguez how sorry I was that his boss was giving him a rough time, but instead I said, "Can I tell you something that's been pissing me off? I can't believe so much energy is being wasted avenging these… well, killers. I mean, they're the bad guys. They're the ones who busted in and killed innocents. And this wasn't the first time. Shouldn't the FBI be after them? And, you, of all people, being assigned this gig, it's ironic. If the Vatican Witch hunters knew you were in possession of psychic ability they'd either try to kill you or recruit you."
He shrugged. "It's my job, Ms. Lacey."
"Well, it sucks."
And that's when I noticed William. He came barreling up to us with such fierce determination that I knew he'd come on a mission to rescue me.
Great. Now I was really screwed.
7
Libra
KEYWORDS:
Diplomatic and Fickle
William stormed right up to Dominguez. He raised his hand, and, at first, I thought William planned to punch him. "William, no!" I shouted.
But instead, William opened his fist and tossed a handful of amber powder into Dominguez's face.
Dominguez reacted as if he'd been hit with mace. He let out a bark of rapid-fire expletives and rubbed furiously at his eyes. Tears ran in copper-red streaks down his face.
"Water," I shouted at William. "Get some water to wash out his eyes."
I looked around for signs indicating the bathrooms. One of the librarians was approaching to see what the commotion was about, and I waved her down. "Water and paper towels," I shouted. "And someone call 911."
"I don't need an ambulance, I need to kill the punk who did this," Dominguez growled, still blindly dabbing at his eyes.
William took a step back and tugged
my sleeve. "This is a good time to leave," he whispered. "This is the distraction part before the running. Let's run now, please."
"I can't leave until I know Dominguez is okay," I said. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"I was thinking we'd be making our getaway about now," William murmured.
The librarian came back with bottled water and a wad of industrial-strength paper towels from the restroom. "Sit down on this chair and tilt your head back," I told Dominguez. "I'm going to try and flush out your eyes." The librarian helped Dominguez perch in the child-size chair while I twisted off the top of the water. As soon as his head was tilted back, I liberally splashed water directly on his face. He held the paper towels by his ears to try to catch some of the excess water.
"Is that better? Does it sting?"
Dominguez squinted in my general direction with tears flowing as hard as before. "More water," he insisted, through clenched teeth. To William, "If you've blinded me, kid, you're going down."
"I'm leaving," William said quietly, even though he didn't budge.
"Has anyone called an ambulance?" I asked, pouring more water into Dominguez's eyes.
When no one answered, William held out his cell phone. That's when I noticed his hair. William must have changed religion again because now instead of a neat pony tail, he had unruly clumps of hair that looked like a white guy's dread-lock starter kit. His John Lennon glasses perched on his nose made him look so wide-eyed, I had a flash of pity for him. I could visualize him as a kid running around his backyard with a towel pinned to his shirt, pretending to be the brave hero to the rescue. Dominguez really could, if he wanted to, arrest William for assault. I needed to get William out of here before that happened.
I took William's cell and glanced at it. "No reception in here," I lied. "We'll just step outside." I handed the nearly empty bottle to one of the gathered librarians. "Fill this up and keep flushing his eyes until the paramedics arrive, okay?"
She nodded her agreement, and I took William outside.
"Are we leaving now?" he wanted to know when we stepped into the parking lot.
"After I make the call," I told him. I dialed 911 and explained to dispatch that Special Agent Gabriel Dominguez had been hit in the face with unidentified powder—
"Myrrh, actually," William interjected. "We had it in overstock."
—and was in need of assistance. She asked me what, if any, first aid we'd administered, and then she wanted me to identify myself. I hesitated at that last question. Part of me wanted there to be a record that I'd called the ambulance, especially if somehow Dominguez was permanently injured and all of this played into the case against me. The other part was just plain afraid. Fear won. "Just get to the library as soon as possible," I told her and repeated the street address.
I clapped the phone shut and handed it to William. "You should get out of here," I told him. "Dominguez is pretty mad."
"What are you going to do?"
"Stay with him until the ambulance comes."
William kicked at the white stones around the shrubs. "Then I'll stay too."
"No, that's an incredibly bad idea, William. He could have you arrested." Sirens wailed in the distance. It was probably too soon to be the ones coming here, but they made me nervous. "Will you go, if I go?"
William nodded.
"Okay," I said. The paramedics would take care of Dominguez. I told myself I wasn't fleeing another crime scene. I hadn't done anything wrong. "Let's get you out of here."
William showed me to a sleek, black VW Beetle convertible. Fishing out the keys from his pocket, he beeped the doors open.
"Is this yours?" I asked incredulously. I couldn't get over how classy this car was. In some ways it suited him. It was trendy, but kind of five minutes ago.
"Sort of," he said, as he opened the door for me.
I lowered myself into the seat and buckled up with a minimum amount of grunting. William watched my progress curiously.
"Are you okay?" he asked once he'd snapped his safety belt and deliberately arranged the shoulder strap in a comfortable position. Watching his slow, steady progress through the motions, I decided if I ever needed someone to get me out of Dodge quickly, I would not call William.
"I was shot."
In a textbook driver's manual maneuver, William adjusted his rear view before putting the key into the ignition. He turned the key, and the engine sprang to life with a well-oiled purr. He glanced over his shoulder and then signaled his entry into traffic as he pulled out from the curb. "Like with a gun?"
Why did everyone ask that? "Yes," I said.
William scratched his scalp, making all his dreads bob. "Who shot you?"
"Dominguez."
William snuck a glance at me as he slowed for a stop sign. "And you didn't need a rescue?"
"Well, not just now," I said. "Turns out he didn't even think I was the prime suspect until recently."
We paused for precisely six seconds as William checked both ways for traffic before proceeding through the intersection. "Who does he think did it?"
"Parrish." The sirens were definitely approaching. I could hear them through the closed windows. "I need to get home to warn him."
"I'll take you there."
Sitting back in the seat, I watched a glow-in-the-dark skeleton toy that hung from the rearview mirror sway. I changed the subject to save me from further embarrassment. "How can this be 'kind of your car? Oh, William!" I said excitedly. "Are you dating again?"
"Kind of." He said to the passing scenery.
Well. This was good news. William had been having a rocky patch ever since he discovered his last girlfriend was a ghoul who preferred vampire suckage to him. I was thrilled he'd found someone new. Only, he didn't seem all that excited about it. He chewed on his lower lip.
So I asked the obvious question. "How can you 'kind of date someone?"
"She's polyamorous."
A lot of people in the pagan community were polyamorous. There were even books out on the subject of being poly and Wiccan. Polyamorous meant just what the Latin seemed to imply—many loves. A polyamorous "couple" might actually be a triple or a quadruple… or more. All of the members might be in love with each other, or with one of the people in the group who had other lovers.
The whole thing had always seemed terribly complicated to me, especially since a major component of the poly lifestyle was that these relationships had to happen with the full knowledge and consent of everyone involved.
I'd much rather stay in the dark about certain things, hence my preferred method of dealing with Sebastian's ghouls. If I didn't have to know, I didn't want to. I'd never even considered polyamory because I knew I was too damn jealous. I'd never been good at sharing, not even in kindergarten.
"So," I said, reaching into the fuzzy corners of my memory to pull out all the various terms used to describe the types of poly arrangements. "Are you in a Y or a triangle or what?" A Y would mean that two people shared one, who acted as a kind of focus point. A triangle meant all three people were into each other.
William nodded his approval at my attempt. "It's a Y right now. I'm into Maureen mostly. I mean, I like Ethan and everything, but I'm just not sure he's my type."
"You have a boy type?"
William shrugged. "I might. I don't really know, you know?"
"Sure," I said, though I wasn't entirely. William had always struck me as someone who could go either way, but I tended to chalk that up to his Pisces sun, which made him generally indecisive. "Wait," I said, twigging to something he said earlier. "You've met her other lover?"
"Oh yeah, sometimes we all have dinner."
"How weird is that?" I managed to say before I could censor myself.
William laughed, as he turned down a street with a slow, precise hand-over-hand on the steering wheel. "Yeah, it was a little at first, but then after a while it was no big deal. It's really important to be nonpossessive."
"That's the part I could never hack," I a
dmitted. "I like being the center of attention."
William gave me a sidelong glance and a half smile. "You're still thinking in the monogamous mindset. Nobody gets cheated in poly. It's different when everyone in the relationship agrees to the terms from the beginning. I knew there'd be an Ethan before I signed up."
Yeah, and I should have factored in ghouls when I decided to take on a new vampire lover. Knowing they were part of the equation didn't make it any easier for me to accept, however. I was impressed how nonchalant William was about the whole thing; maybe it really was working for him.
"I'm really glad you found someone… or someones," I corrected with a big smile. "Maureen and Ethan are really lucky." Wow, that felt weird to say. Oh well, the grin on William's face was worth it. "So, tell me more about them."
"It's nice you're trying to get this, but my relationship is really just with Maureen," he said. "You'd like her, I think. She's magical too. I've been learning a lot from her."
Speaking of nonpossessiveness, here was a weird bit of jealousy. I found myself bristling at the thought of someone else acting as William's magical role model. It wasn't like I'd ever really offered to teach him Wicca, but we always shared bits of astrological trivia and he always came to me with questions he had. "Oh, really?"
Apparently I'd kept the ice out of my tone, which was good, because I'd meant to. He went on. "She's seriously powerful, Garnet. I've seen some things I would never have believed possible."
Okay, now I really had to wrestle the green-eyed monster. Before he met me, William had never known vampires existed, and even after he had met two of them, he still had trouble committing to the idea their magic was real. This woman convinced him of the impossible?
So I had to know. "What kind of magic does she practice?"
He started to say, but stopped. "Oh," William said, his eyes firmly on the road. "This and that."
I gave him a hard stare. It was very unlike him not to want to talk about magic. "You don't approve?" I asked, though my mind was elsewhere. We were getting closer to my house, and I realized I was going to have to sneak into my apartment somehow and warn Parrish that the FBI were after him.
Dead Sexy Page 13
