A Caress of Twilight

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  The bodies that weren’t covered all had lips almost the same shade of blue as the girl on the beach, except this obviously wasn’t lipstick. They’d all suffocated, but not instantly. They hadn’t dropped magically and mercifully in their tracks. There were nail marks on some of the bodies where they’d clawed at their throats, their chests, as if trying to get air into lungs that no longer worked.

  Nine bodies seemed different from the others. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but I kept pacing in front of the nine, scattered in a row among the others. Frost had paced beside me at first, but he was back at the edge of the floor, trying to stay out of the way of the hurrying uniforms, plainclothes, paramedics, and all the extra people who seem to accumulate at any murder scene. I remembered being surprised the first time I saw how very many people tracked through a murder scene.

  Behind Frost was something covered with a tablecloth but it wasn’t a body. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was a Christmas tree. Someone had covered the artificial greenery, covered the entire Christmas display. It was as if someone hadn’t wanted the tree to see the bodies, like hiding the eyes of the innocent so they won’t be tarnished. It should have seemed ridiculous, but it didn’t. Somehow, it seemed appropriate to cover the decorations in this room. To hide them away so they wouldn’t be spoiled.

  Frost seemed unaware of the covered tree, or much of anything else. Rhys, on the other hand, seemed aware of everything.

  He stayed right at my side. He wasn’t humming or even smiling now. He’d been subdued since we walked in on the carnage. Though carnage seemed the wrong word for it. Carnage seemed to imply blood and flesh ripped and torn. This was strangely clean, almost impersonal. No, not impersonal—cold. I’d seen people who enjoyed slaughter, and they literally enjoyed the act of cutting someone up, the feel of the blade in flesh. There was no savage joy in this scene. It was just death, cold death, as if the Grim Reaper had been brought to life to ride through this place.

  “What is it about these nine that’s different?” I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud until Rhys answered me.

  “They went quietly, no nail marks, no signs of struggle. These, and only these nine, just … dropped where they were dancing.”

  “What in Goddess’s name happened here, Rhys?”

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Princess Meredith?” We both turned to the far side of the room. The man stalking toward us through the bodies was medium build, balding, obviously muscular, and even more obviously pissed.

  “Lieutenant Peterson, isn’t it?” I said. The first and last time I’d met Peterson I’d been trying to convince the police to investigate the possibility that a fey aphrodisiac had gotten out into the human population. They’d informed me that aphrodisiacs didn’t work, and neither did love spells. I’d proven that it did work, and nearly caused a riot in the Los Angeles Police Department. The lieutenant had been one of the men I’d used to prove my point. They’d had to handcuff him before they could drag him off me.

  “Don’t be pleasant, Princess. What the fuck are you doing here?”

  I smiled. “It’s lovely to see you, too, Lieutenant.”

  He didn’t smile. “Get out, now, before I have you thrown out.”

  Rhys moved an inch closer to my side. Peterson’s eyes flicked to him, then back to me. “I see your two gorillas. If they try anything, diplomatic immunity or no diplomatic immunity, they’re going to jail.”

  I glanced back just enough to see that Frost was drifting closer. I shook my head, and he stopped. He frowned, clearly not happy; but he didn’t have to be happy, he just had to give me room.

  “Have you ever seen this many dead before?” I asked. My voice was quiet.

  “What?” Peterson asked.

  I repeated my question.

  He shook his head. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It’s horrible,” I said.

  “Yeah, it’s horrible, and what the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

  “You’d be friendlier if it wasn’t such a horrible crime scene.”

  He made a sound that was almost a laugh, but too harsh to be one. “Well, hell, Princess, this is friendly. This is exactly how friendly I am to murderers like you who hide behind diplomatic immunity.” He smiled, but it was a baring of teeth, like a snarl.

  I’d once been suspected of killing a man who’d attempted to rape me. I hadn’t done it, but without diplomatic immunity I might have gone to jail anyway. I’d have at least seen a trial. I didn’t try to deny it again. Peterson wouldn’t believe me now any more than he had before.

  “Why are these nine bodies the only ones that went quietly?” I asked.

  He frowned at me. “What?”

  “Why are these nine bodies the only ones without signs of struggle on them?”

  “This is a police investigation, and I am the senior officer on-site. This is my investigation, and I don’t care if you are one of our civilian advisers on metaphysical shit. I don’t even care if you’ve helped us out in the past. You’ve never done shit for me, and I don’t need help from any goddamned faerie. So, for the last time, get the fuck out of here.”

  I’d tried being sympathetic. I’d tried being businesslike. When being good doesn’t help, you can always be bad. I reached out toward him, as if to touch his face. He did what I knew he’d do. He backed up.

  “What’s wrong, Lieutenant?” I made sure to look puzzled.

  “Don’t ever touch me.” His voice was quieter now. And, I realized, much more dangerous than the yelling.

  “It wasn’t the touch of my skin that drove you mad last time, Lieutenant. It was the Branwyn’s Tears.”

  His voice dropped even lower. “Don’t … ever … touch me … again.” There was something in his eyes that was frightening. He was afraid of me, really afraid, and that made him hate me.

  Rhys stepped a little ahead of me, not quite putting himself between me and the lieutenant but almost. I didn’t fight him. It’s never comforting to have anyone look at you with such hatred.

  “We’ve met only once, Lieutenant. Why do you hate me?” It was a question so direct that even a human wouldn’t have asked it. But I didn’t understand, couldn’t understand; so I had to ask.

  He looked down, hiding his eyes as if he hadn’t expected me to see so far into his soul. His voice was very low when he said, “You forget, I saw what you left on that bed—just a pile of raw meat, cut to ribbons. Without dental records we couldn’t have recognized him. And you wonder why I don’t want you to touch me?” He shook his head and looked at me, eyes blank and unreadable, cop eyes. “Now, get out, Princess. Take your two goons and get out. I am senior officer in charge, and I won’t have you here.” His voice was calm now, very calm, too calm for standing in the middle of all this.

  “Lieutenant, I called the Grey Detective Agency.” Lucy Tate came in from the deck.

  “And who authorized that?” Peterson asked.

  “I’ve never needed special authorization to bring them in before.” She picked her way through the lines of bodies, and when she got close enough, Lucy was over a head taller than the lieutenant.

  “The clairvoyant I understand. Even Mr. Grey, because he’s a well-known magician. But why her?” He jerked a thumb at me.

  “The sidhe are well known for magic use, Lieutenant. I thought the more heads we have on this one, the better.”

  “You thought, you thought … Well, don’t think, Detective. Just follow procedure. And procedure is that you check with the head of the task force, and that’s me. And I say she’s not welcome.”

  “Lieutenant, I—”

  “Detective Tate, if you want to stay on this task force, you’ll follow my lead, my orders, and you won’t argue with me. Is that clear?”

  I watched Lucy struggle with his sharp words, then finally she said, “Yes, sir, that’s clear.”

  “Good,” he said, “because the upper brass can think anything they want, but it’s my ass
on the line here, in the cameras, and I say it’s some kind of toxic gas or poison. When they finish the toxicology work on the other bodies, they’ll know what it is, and it’ll be our job to find out who did it. Look first for whodunit, not whatdunit. You don’t have to go to fairy-tale land to solve this murder. It’s just another crazy son of a bitch that’s as mortal as everyone else in this room.”

  He turned his head to one side in an odd gesture, then looked at me, at Rhys, and at Frost beyond. “Sorry, my mistake. Mortal as all the rest of us humans in this room. Now, you take your immortal asses and get out of here. And if I hear that anyone on my watch has been talking to you, they’ll be up on disciplinary charges. Is that clear to everyone?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lucy said.

  I smiled charmingly at him. “Thanks so much, Lieutenant. I hated being here among all this death. It’s been one of the worst things I’ve ever seen in my life, so thank you for letting me leave, when it was taking everything I had not to run out.” I kept smiling as I pulled off the one surgical glove I’d put on. I hadn’t touched anything, or any body, because I hadn’t wanted to take the feel of their dead flesh back with me.

  Rhys stripped off his gloves, too, and he had touched things. We worked our way to the bag set out for glove disposal, and I couldn’t help saying just before we stepped out the door, “Thanks again, Lieutenant, for letting me go. I agree with you, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.” With that I left, Rhys and Frost trailing behind me like pale shadows.

  Chapter 23

  I WAS BEHIND THE WHEEL OF THE ACURA BEFORE I REALIZED I couldn’t remember where we were supposed to be going. I stared at the keys in my hands and couldn’t think. “Where are we going?”

  The men exchanged a look, then Rhys said from the backseat, “Let me drive, Merry.” He reached between the seats and took the keys gently from my hand. I didn’t argue. The day seemed to be full of a high buzzing sound like some invisible mosquito humming in my ear.

  Rhys held the door open for me, and I walked around to the passenger-side door. Frost held the door for me and got me settled in before getting into the back. I was lucky that Rhys was with me. Frost didn’t know how to drive a car.

  “Buckle up,” Rhys said.

  It wasn’t like me to forget my seat belt. It took me two tries to get the belt fastened. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Shock,” Rhys said, as he put the car in gear.

  “Shock? Why?”

  Frost answered, leaning forward over my seat. Most of the guards never buckled up; they could be decapitated and not die, so I guess a little trip through a windshield didn’t worry them. “You said it yourself to the policeman. You have never seen anything as awful as what you have just seen.”

  “Have you seen worse?”

  He was quiet for a second, then said, “Yes.”

  I glanced at Rhys, who had moved us onto the Pacific Highway with its beautiful views of the ocean. “How about you?”

  “How about me, what?” he asked, flashing me a grin.

  I frowned at him. “Have you seen worse?”

  “Yes. And, no, I’m not going to tell you about it.”

  “Not even if I ask nicely?”

  “Especially if you ask nicely. If I was angry enough, I might try to shock you with the horrors I’ve seen. But I’m not angry with you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Frost?”

  “I am sure Rhys has seen worse than I. I was not alive during the very first battles when our people fought the Firbolgs.”

  I knew the Firbolgs were the first semidivine inhabitants of the British Isles and Ireland. I knew that my ancestors had defeated them and won the right to be the new rulers of the lands. It was several thousand years of history away; that I knew. What I hadn’t known was that Rhys was older than Frost, older than most of the sidhe. That Rhys was one of the first of us to come to the isles now thought to be the original home of all sidhe. “Rhys is older than you are?”

  “Yes.”

  I looked at Rhys.

  He suddenly seemed very interested in driving.

  “Rhys?”

  “Yes,” he said, looking straight ahead. He maneuvered a curve a little too fast, so he’d have to play with the wheel.

  “How much older are you than Frost?”

  “I don’t remember.” His voice held a plaintive note.

  “Yes, you do.”

  He glanced at me. “No, I don’t. It’s been too long, Merry. I don’t remember what year Frost was born.” He sounded grumpy now.

  “Do you remember what year you were born?” I asked Frost.

  He seemed to think about it, then shook his head. “Not really. Rhys is right on one thing. After a time it simply is too long to think about.”

  “Are you saying you all begin to lose parts of your memories?”

  “No,” Frost said, “but it no longer becomes important what year you were born. You know that we do not celebrate our birthdays.”

  “Well, yes, but I never really thought about why.”

  I turned back to Rhys. His face looked almost grim. “So you’ve seen worse than back there at the club, restaurant, whatever?”

  “Yes.” The word was very short, clipped.

  “If I asked you to tell me about it, would you?”

  “No,” he said.

  There is no that can be worn down to yes, then there is NO. Rhys’s no was one of those.

  I left it alone. Besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted stories today about awful deaths, especially if that death was worse than what we’d just walked through. It was the most dead I’d ever seen, and more than I’d ever wanted to see.

  “I’ll respect your wishes.”

  He glanced at me almost as if he didn’t trust me. “That’s big of you.”

  “No need to be snide, Rhys.”

  He shrugged. “Sorry, Merry, I’m just not feeling particularly good right now.”

  “I thought I was the only one having trouble handling this.”

  “It’s not the bodies that bothered me,” Rhys said. “It’s the fact that the lieutenant is wrong. It wasn’t gas or poison, or anything like that.”

  “What do you mean, Rhys? What did you see that I didn’t?”

  Frost leaned back away from my seat.

  “Okay, what did you both see that I didn’t see?”

  Rhys kept staring at the road. There was silence from the backseat.

  “Someone talk to me,” I said.

  “You seem to be feeling better,” Frost said.

  “I am. There’s nothing like getting a little angry to get you through things. Now what did you two see there that I missed?”

  “You were shielding too hard to see anything mystical,” Rhys said.

  “You bet I was. Do you know how much metaphysical crap there is in a place where you’ve had a recent murder, let alone a mass execution? There are a lot of spirits that are attracted to sites like that. They flock like vultures to feed on the remaining living, feeding off their horror, their sorrow. You can go clean into a place like that and come out covered in riders.”

  “We know what the spirits that fly the air can do,” Frost said.

  “Probably better than I do,” I said, “but you’re sidhe and you don’t get riders.”

  “We don’t get small ones,” Frost said, “but I have seen others of our kind nearly possessed by incorporeal beings. It does happen, especially if someone works with dark magic.”

  “Well, I’m human enough that I’ll pick up things casually. I don’t have to do a thing to attract them except not shield well enough.”

  “You tried to sense as little as possible while you were there,” Rhys said.

  “I am a private detective, not a professional psychic. I’m not even a professional magician or witch. I had no business being there today. I couldn’t help.”

  “You could have helped if you’d let your shields down just a little,” Rhys said.

  “Fine, I’ll try to
be braver next time. Now what did you see?”

  Frost sighed loudly enough for me to hear him. “I could feel the remnants of a powerful spell, very powerful. It clung in stinging echoes to the place.”

  “Could you sense it as soon as we got inside?”

  “No, I did not wish to touch the dead, so I searched with other senses besides touch and vision. I, as you say, dropped my shields. It was then that I sensed the spell.”

  “Do you know what spell it was?” I asked. I’d turned in my seat enough to see him shake his head.

  “I do.” Rhys’s voice turned me back around to him.

  “What did you say?”

  “Anyone who concentrated could have sensed the remains of magic. Merry could have seen it, if she’d wanted to.”

  “It would have told her nothing, as it told me nothing,” Frost said, “but it would have made it harder for her to endure what she saw.”

  “I’m not arguing that,” Rhys said. “What I mean is that I got down and looked at the bodies. Nine of them dropped where they stood, but the rest had time to fight, to be afraid, to try to run. But they didn’t run like they’d run if, say, wild animals had attacked them. They didn’t go for the doors, or break a window, not as soon as they saw what was happening. It’s as if they couldn’t see anything.”

  “You speak in riddles,” Frost said.

  “Yeah, plain English, Rhys, please.”

  “What if they didn’t run because they didn’t realize that anything was in the room?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Most humans can’t see spirits of any kind.”

  “Yeah, but if you’re implying that spirits, noncorporeal beings killed everybody at the club, then I can’t agree. Non-corporeal beings, riders, whatever, they don’t have the … physical oomph to take out that many people like that. They might be able to do one person who was very susceptible to their influence, but even that’s debatable.”