“Belladonna,” he confirmed. “Atropa belladonna is the best-known poisonous nightshade, but there are other varieties, such this one, carasonno. It was first cultivated by botanists who wanted to use it as a sedative without the hallucinogenic effects. They managed to breed out the hallucinations, but in doing so they sent the toxicity through the roof. This bottle probably cost her five hundred dollars on the black market.”
“What kind of death is it?” she asked, looking back at the body. “It doesn’t look painful.”
“It’s not. You become calm, even serene, and drift off to sleep; then your heart stops. It’s quite peaceful—in fact that’s why it’s been impossible to eliminate from the market even though it’s damn near impossible to grow. It’s generally used for euthanasia and suicide. If you just want someone dead, you don’t spend half a grand on poison, you spend twenty on belladonna. But if you want a gentle death, you find a carasonno dealer. She planned her death, probably for weeks.”
“But why? I don’t understand.”
“And we probably won’t until we find these people, including the one she was trying to protect.” He straightened and said into his Ear, [Sage, I need a forensics team at these coordinates immediately. I’m classifying this as a homicide.]
“But you just said—“
[Forensics team is en route, ETA ten minutes.]
Jason took Sara by the arm and dragged her out of the room, back into the cold night. He informed Detective Lawrence that the SA was officially taking over the investigation—the Detective looked relieved at that, and by the time the SA forensics people had arrived APD was leaving. Sara kept back as she’d been told, watching Jason coordinate things at the scene, and didn’t say anything else until he had beckoned to her and they were on patrol again, walking away from the building and leaving the cleanup in the team’s capable hands.
Before she could even ask, he said, “This is strictly off the record.”
“Okay.”
“Even in the SA, suicides get pushed under the rug whenever possible. Someone kills herself, the evidence she did so is right there, case closed. We have plenty of unsolved murders and ongoing crimes to devote our resources to. But if I call it homicide, the investigation continues. We get her dealer, we find her coven, we find out if that other woman is in danger and if the group is doing anything illegal. If it’s all part of a murder investigation that cuts the time and paperwork in half and it means I don’t have to spend the next two weeks persuading Ness to get me warrants.”
He looked at her squarely, his expression and tone both deadly serious. “You, however, are under no circumstances allowed to do that kind of thing, and if I catch you violating case protocol you’ll be fired. Understood?”
“Understood. What makes you think I won’t go blabbing to Ness about you dodging the rules?”
A grim smile. “You’re still just enough afraid of me--and smart enough--not to do something so stupid.”
“You know, somehow I don’t think I’ll be tempted.”
“Good. Now, since we’ve lost an hour and a half we need to trim off part of our route; I think we’ll leave East Austin for Thursday and finish up here, then head back to base.”
They took a shortcut through the park, and Sara’s mind was full of what she’d seen—she was frustrated, not knowing what had happened to that woman or even who she was. She understood that cases weren’t solved at the scene, but that didn’t make it easier to just walk away and mentally shift back to walking around the city looking for trouble.
Suddenly, Jason stopped walking and stood stock-still in the middle of the sidewalk. Sara nearly ran into him, and there was just enough ice on the concrete that she slipped and had to grab his arm to keep from landing on her ass. Without commenting he basically picked her up and righted her with one hand.
When she started to thank him, he shushed her. His eyes swept the park, from the stand of oaks twenty feet away to the homeless guy sleeping on a bench, and she saw one hand pass beneath the lapel of his coat. Dread closed around her throat as he drew and cocked his Beretta.
[There’s something out there,] he said. [Stay close.]
She was more than happy to; for once, she wanted to be in as near proximity to a gun as possible. Whatever he was hearing, if it had him on alert, it probably wasn’t good.
A moment later, there was a flicker of movement in the trees, and several things happened at once: a shadow among the oaks resolved itself into a person who stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of them; Jason aimed his weapon at the person’s head; and the person slowly raised his hands, saying something…something Sara didn’t understand at all.
Jason replied commandingly in the same language, and the stranger obligingly came forward, out into the street lamplight where they could see him.
Sara’s mouth fell open.
Silver, white, and grey hair fell down around his shoulders; a strand on either side had been pulled back and braided so that his pointed ears were visible. He regarded them through long-lashed, pale lavender-grey eyes that brought to mind a shadow on snow, from a high-cheekboned, almost feminine face. He was dressed in an odd combination of a dark green laced-up shirt over jeans with a fashionable charcoal grey trench coat. Somehow it all worked together, neither entirely modern nor entirely out of place.
The only weapon he wore that she could see was a long, curved knife in his belt; he made no move to draw it, and stood waiting with his hands up, smiling faintly. His eyes flicked to Sara, and the smile widened, becoming a tad mischievous. Sara felt a twinge in her belly rather like the one she’d felt when she’d first met another person who looked just like this one.
Jason said to Sara, “Go over and check him for weapons.”
“You want me to frisk an Elf?”
“Just do it.”
She walked over cautiously and, swallowing back any sort of reaction, patted him down, refusing to think about how outrageously good looking he was, or that she was touching a total stranger…much less that he was watching her every move.
She pulled the knife from his belt, admiring the shining blade—it was carved ornately with vines and flowers, almost more like a work of art than something to kill people with. She handed it to Jason and said, “That’s all.”
Finally, he lowered his gun. “Do you speak English?” he asked.
The Elf bowed, and said, “I do indeed.” He smiled at Sara. “As I was saying to SA-7, my name is Ardeth, lately of Clan Willow, once of Clan Birch.”
“You’re Ardeth? That’s fantastic!” Sara exclaimed. “We’ve been looking for you--“
Jason shot her a look, and she shut up immediately. “Can you offer any sort of proof that you are who you say you are?”
“Yes. I am an old friend of Trella, SA-6 of the Vermont branch of the Agency, who alerted me that you had found Elora. Check with her; I’m sure she can verify my identity to your satisfaction.”
“Is Clan Willow another new Clan?”
“It is. We have only twelve members thus far. Tell me…is she well? May I see her?”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “We will escort you to the Agency base, and once we have contacted Trella, you’ll see Elora.”
Ardeth sighed, and smiled again, this time touched with sadness. “As you wish.” He held up one wrist, revealing a silver band around his arm that looked like it was carved with Elvish script. “Her mother, Siolan, was killed along with all our kin. Into death she took half of my heart—Elora is the other half. I will do whatever you want to prove myself to you. I am just thankful the Agency found her, and is keeping her safe.”
“That’s refreshing,” Sara said. “There’s a delegation here from Clan Yew trying to lay claim to her, and they’re not nearly so cooperative.”
“Clan Yew?” Ardeth asked, puzzled. “I have never heard of it.”
“They’re very enthusiastic about recruitment,” Jason told him, motioning for the Elf and Sara to come along back toward the tunnel entrance. “I im
agine they’ll want to talk to you.”
Ardeth shook his head slowly. “Yew trees are poisonous,” he said. “That alone gives me pause…and I am perfectly happy with Clan Willow. I see no reason to let this Clan Yew have any say in Elora’s fate.”
Sara grinned. “You have no idea how glad we are to hear that.”
Part Ten
The meeting did not go well.
Rowan was pleased.
He watched from nearby but didn’t interfere; he knew Elora could hold her own against Sedna, even with the ominous presence of the four guards positioned along the wall. Aside from Rowan himself there were no Agents in the room, but that didn’t mean they were unprotected—the meeting was being monitored from next door. At his signal the place would be swarmed with Agents and the doors bolted shut.
Elora greeted the Councilor politely and spoke to her with all due respect, but Rowan could see right away how the child felt about her. As soon as Sedna wasn’t looking Elora cast Rowan an “are you kidding me?” look that had him hiding a grin.
“We’ve come to take you home with us,” Sedna informed the child, who looked at her dubiously. “I’m sure you’ll love living with our Clan.”
“I like living with Tiomi Rowan,” Elora replied. “And I like to play with the other children.”
Sedna knelt in front of Elora so they were face to face. “You won’t have to play with human offspring when you come to live with us. You’ll only have contact with your own people. That’s much better.”
“Is it?” Elora asked. “Do you have Harry Potter?”
Sedna looked confused, and finally went on without acknowledging the question. “We’ll teach you all about the Goddess, and Her plan for you. You’ll be very happy with us, and you won’t ever have to come back to a city or see another human or vampire.” She said the last word as if it tasted bitter.
Elora’s little mouth pursed. “Vampires saved me from the slave traders. Beck taught me how to play chess. And Jason loves Tiomi Rowan and he plays beautiful music.”
“Perhaps that’s true, but surely—“
“I don’t think I want to live with you,” Elora announced. She raised her head to Rowan. “Can I go now? We’re on Chapter Seven and Amy promised she’d show me how to jump rope.”
Rowan smiled. “Be patient, little one. Besides, you interrupted the Councilor, and that was ill-mannered of you.”
Elora looked sheepish…barely. “I’m sorry, elder,” she said contritely.
Sedna stood up and sniffed, straightening her robes, jerking her long sleeves back into place. “Well. I can see that we’ll need to begin your re-education immediately. We’ll place you with a family and start teaching you the Way as soon as we return.”
“Councilor,” Rowan said, “I realize you’re suffering under the mistaken belief that you have the final word on Elora’s fate, but you don’t. She is in the Shadow Agency’s custody, and if we don’t believe that Clan Yew is in her best interest, she’ll stay right here. So I would suggest that you not talk about your brainwashing plans in front of me.”
“This child is an Elf. She belongs with her own kind. You are not her kin and cannot keep her here.”
“You are not her kin either, and as far as I’m concerned you’re not her kind, or mine. Your Clan may follow its own Way, but I’ll be damned if you’re going to force it down the throat of an innocent girl. Elora doesn’t want to live with you, and I agree with her. That’s as far as this goes.”
“She’s far too young to make such a decision for herself. You have no right—“
Rowan pointedly ignored her, walking over to the door. “Marianne, you can come in now.”
The young woman from day care appeared, and waved at Elora, who grinned and bounced over to her. Marianne took her hand and led her away, the Elfling already chattering up a storm.
Sedna’s anger was plain, and her voice was tight as she said, “I hope you realize what you are doing.”
“I’m protecting a child’s best interest, Councilor.”
Something very dark crossed Sedna’s face, and Rowan felt a slow ripple of disquiet. “I see,” she said. “In that case, Agent, I think our presence here is no longer necessary. We will leave at first light, if that is permissible.”
“It is. The guard outside will show you back to your quarters.”
Sedna shot him one more venomous glare, then gestured for her guards to surround her. As they passed by, Rowan caught Kaeli’s eye and gave her a tentative smile, but she bit her lip and looked down, avoiding his eye.
Rowan found, walking back to his own apartment, that he didn’t feel as triumphant as he had expected to; rather, his heart was heavy, hurting. He had wanted to believe better of his own people, and of Kaeli, even though he knew intellectually that it would end badly. He had been hoping that bridges could be mended, and that perhaps he might have other Elves among his friends, people whose concerns and beliefs echoed his, who would understand the grief they all carried with them and would until they met death or the stars burned out. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted some sort of relationship with Kaeli…but it seemed that was not to be. At least he had the comfort of knowing she was alive, that some part of his family still existed.
Yes. Comforting. He sighed.
It was still early; Jason and Sara were out on her first patrol, and they wouldn’t be back for hours. He had cleared out the whole evening for the meeting on the off chance things would go well and proceed from there, which left him at loose ends. He thought about going up to the labyrinth and spending a while among the trees, but what he really wanted to do was take a hot shower and fall into bed, preferably with a vampire curled up against his back.
He worried, sometimes, at how much he already seemed to depend on Jason emotionally—was that how love was supposed to work? He tried to remember the committed relationships he’d seen in the Clan. There were several levels of bonding, from the extremely rare monogamous couplings to the groups of three or four living together. There weren’t hard and fast rules, although traditionally those who were amori as Elora had proclaimed him and Jason were considered each other’s primary lifemate, but free to have periodic outside affairs. It was the only kind of commitment that he’d ever known a rethla to maintain.
Was the child right? Was that really what they were? After four months? He’d heard of humans marrying sooner than that, but shouldn’t immortals take more time? Jason had seemed so skittish after all that talk, was it a warning sign that things were moving too fast?
Why on Earth was he trying to be rational about this?
Rowan smiled to himself and lay down on the couch, closing his eyes for a moment. He really was overthinking this. One thing he had told so many of his clients, long ago, was that when it came to love, the heart would have its way, and sometimes it should just be given free rein to run as it would. Sex could be defined, behavioral boundaries could be drawn. Behavior could be changed, but love had its own agenda, and in this case, was as lawless as SA-7 himself. He’d spent so long closed off from the world—they both had—that a little lawlessness was doing them both a lot of good.
And when it came down to it, Rowan knew that there was no turning back, and that they were both in this for the long haul. He had expected a tempestuous love affair with a good deal of sex and not much talking, but he’d been amazed so far, and he knew there was more amazement to come. They actually had the makings of a real partnership. They were just as fantastic together out of bed as they were in it.
Well…perhaps they were a little more fantastic in bed. But that was hardly a bad thing.
Amusingly, he could practically hear Sara in his head: “Don’t be an idiot. You’ve known each other for a decade. It’s not like you met on immortalhotties.com a week ago.”
It was a good point, imaginary or not. He and Jason had been orbiting each other, letting gravity pull them closer little by little over the years. Looking back on the first time he remembered seeing Jason, th
at night in the conference room, it seemed almost inevitable that they would end up here.
If he’d had any idea how wonderful it was going to be, he might have pounced on the Agent the first time their eyes had met.
So, perhaps things weren’t moving too fast—perhaps they had simply made a bit of a leap after ten years of wandering. He liked that thought. Looking at things from that perspective was a lot less unsettling.
Besides, as panicky as Jason had seemed over the Elvish vocabulary words that may or may not apply to them, Rowan probably didn’t have to worry about things going anywhere for a while. A part of him wished they would—he had to admit that the idea of a bracelet with Jason’s name on it made his heart pound. But he’d been telling the truth when he had said he was happy with how things were now.
He was in the middle of building a nice fantasy about what he planned to do to the vampire as soon as he was home, when there was a knock on the door.
The Agency, Volume II Page 15
