Veiled Menace

by Deborah Blake

  “No, no,” Anton said. “I am one of the other coalition. We call ourselves Melders. We believe that we can save our race by interbreeding with Witches, as was attempted so long ago before the Inquisition forced us all to hide away. The nature connection in both races should make such a thing possible.”

  He gazed at her with something akin to awe. “Of course, we had not realized that such a mating had actually been successful until recently, when your increase in magical use brought your powers—and you—to our attention. When the Melders became aware that your ancestor had borne a live Anemoi-Witch child all those years ago, we realized that you, her descendent, were our best chance at succeeding again.”

  Shivers ran down Donata’s spine when she realized she’d brought this all on herself by trying to increase her magical ability to be better equipped to handle her new position. If she’d continued simply talking to ghosts in the basement of the precinct, the Major Anemoi would never have discovered her. And maybe Raphael would still be alive. There was irony for you.

  Biting her lip, she said, “Someone I know was killed recently by a freak bolt of lightning. Before it happened, there were other instances of odd natural phenomenon.” She stared at Anton, not sure if she really wanted the answer, but knew she had to ask. “Could these Cleansers have been responsible for his death?”

  Anton looked thoughtful. “It is certainly possible. If he was doing something they considered threatening, the Cleansers might have taken steps to have him removed.”

  He made it all sound so clinical, thought Donata. But he hadn’t had to hold Raphael’s son while he cried.

  “He was doing some research, trying to discover the identity of the lost sixth race,” Donata admitted. “I don’t know how they could have found out about it, but I suppose that something about his inquiries might have tipped them off.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Anton said with concern. “You might be in danger too. All the more reason for you to stay close to me, for your own safety. No Human or Witch could possibly protect you the way I can.”

  Ricky made a growling noise deep in his throat. “Nobody is going to hurt Donata. They’ll have to go through me first.”

  Anton looked amused, clearly disdainful of the little Kobold’s ability to help in any way. “Alas, my friend, I doubt that you would be able to do much to stop a hurricane.” He gave a small, superior smile. “Although you are to be commended for your desire to do so.”

  Ricky subsided back onto his hassock, muttering, “I am not your friend,” and adding what Donata could only assume was a German curse word. She was sorry she didn’t know what it meant.

  “Never mind about that right now,” she said. “Can you tell me if the Cleansers are also responsible for the current upheaval in the rest of the Paranormal community? Someone is getting people all worked up; encouraging them to break the rules of the Compact, and strike out against Humans. Are they behind that too, do you think?”

  Anton gave her question a moment’s consideration. “I suppose they must be. It would be just like them to try and get their enemies to kill each other off, so they don’t have to bother to do it themselves.”

  Shit. She’d been afraid of that. “Is there any way for me to stop them?” she asked. “You know I can’t let them keep killing people. If the other Paranormals continue to flout the Compact, they’ll bring down destruction on all of us. You have to help me. You say you’re not a part of the ones who are doing this; well, prove it to me by helping me stop them.”

  “Certainly,” he said with a wave of one graceful hand. “Of course, if I help you, I expect you to help me. Quid pro quo. Nothing could be more reasonable.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  Clearly they had different ideas of what was and wasn’t reasonable. “I’m not going to have a baby with you to save the world,” Donata said, frustration forming knots in her neck. She couldn’t believe he had the ability to help her stop the Cleansers from trying to destroy everyone who wasn’t a Major Anemoi and he was blackmailing her over it.

  “That seems to me as good a reason as any,” Anton said calmly. “But you misunderstand me. What I was attempting to say was that you and I together have the only real chance of getting the Cleansers to alter their course of action.”

  “Are you telling us that Donata can stop these Cleanser people somehow?” Ricky asked, dubious. His homely face was scrunched up in doubt.

  Anton nodded, giving the Kobold the kind of look a teacher might bestow on a not-very-bright student who had miraculously produced the correct answer for once.

  “Exactly. After all, they are killing Humans because they believe it is the only way to appease Gaia and be allowed to continue to procreate. If Donata can bear an Anemoi-Witch child, we would prove that the Melder faction has the correct approach, and the destruction would stop.” He looked quite pleased with himself for coming up with this neat solution.

  “That’s a pretty big if,” Donata pointed out. “According to Henrietta’s notes, many of the Witch women who tried it didn’t survive the experience. And if the mother lived, the baby didn’t. What makes you think it would be any different for me?” She made a face. “It sounds to me like your plan is more dangerous to my health than the Cleansers would be.”

  Anton leaned forward and spoke with earnest enthusiasm. Clearly, he’d been giving this issue some thought.

  “But don’t you see, Donata? Things have changed greatly since the last time this experiment was done. Modern medicine is much more advanced; between the superior prenatal care and the various methods of monitoring both mother and child, the odds have improved exponentially. The fact that your great-great-great-grandmother was the one woman who managed to carry an Anemoi-Witch hybrid to term only increases the potential for success.”

  Donata gazed across the table at him. His eyes were shining and a soft smile played over his sensuous lips. This rare animation turned him from a sedate businessman into a dangerously attractive potential mate. She thought it was ironic that if he had displayed this sort of passion earlier, they might not have needed to have this difficult conversation.

  “Donata! Hey, Donata!” Ricky snapped his fingers at her to bring her back to focus. “You’re not actually considering this crazy idea, are you?”

  “No, of course not, Ricky,” she said. But her words lacked the force they’d had previously.

  Anton wasted no time in taking advantage of her momentary lapse of hostility.

  “Just think of it, Donata,” he said, reaching out to take the hand that wasn’t resting near the butt of her gun. “If we could create children that are part Major Anemoi and part Witch, our offspring would be the best of both races. They would be the most powerful Witches ever known—and unlike your great-great-great-grandmother Henrietta and her descendants, they would no longer have to hide that power.”

  “Of course they would,” Donata said. “Just because Witches have come out of the broom closet doesn’t mean that we are free to show the Humans what we can really do. That would go double for an Anemoi-Witch child with extra abilities.”

  Anton shook his head, shoving his other hand back through his lightly silvered hair with unusual abandon. “You’re not seeing the big picture here, Donata. With Witch blood added to the gene pool, the Anemoi would be able to again maintain a permanent physical form. And once those children grew up, they would have the strength and wisdom of the Anemoi race, coupled with the magical abilities of Witches.”

  He drew back, letting go of her fingers, but still looking into her eyes with the fervor of a visionary. Or a madman—it was hard to tell the difference. But Donata found herself drawn into his dream of a possible brighter future, despite herself.

  “Our children would have power and charisma enough to achieve anything,” he continued. “And they could take a more assertive role in society than Witches have been willing to; even run for
high public offices where they could eventually effect sweeping changes that would protect the environment and pave the way to revealing the existence of all the other Paranormal races.”

  “That’s a lot of pressure for a couple of theoretical children,” Donata said.

  “Oh, it wouldn’t just be our children, although they would lead the way.” Anton interlaced his fingers and then turned them over as if to show her the possibilities that would open up if she agreed to his plans. “Once we showed the other Anemoi that it was possible, others would follow in our footsteps. In your lifetime, you could see the world change dramatically for the better.”

  He sat back in his chair, his enthusiasm subsiding. “Or, of course, you can say no, and then the Cleansers will do it their way.” Grim lines curved around his mouth at the thought. “It’s up to you, Donata. But just think—you could do something important with your life; something that would help two races and save innumerable lives in the process.”

  Almost against her will, Donata realized that the idea held some attraction for her. If he was right and she could safely have an Anemoi-Witch child, she would be helping an entire race. What could be more important than that? How did you weigh the feelings and needs of one lone Witch-cop against those of an ancient species facing extinction?

  Maybe this was what she was meant to do. She’d joined the police force because she’d wanted to make a difference, to be an agent for positive change. What if this was how the goddess intended her to do it? Could she really say no? Did she want to?

  It wouldn’t hurt that her family would no longer look at her with perpetual disappointment or criticize her for not doing enough with her gifts and position. She was at an age where having a child was a perfectly natural desire. And it wasn’t as though it looked like things were going to work out with Peter. Damn it.

  “I . . . I have to think about it,” she said slowly.

  Ricky switched his glare from Anton to her. “Donata!”

  “So you’ll consider the possibility?” Anton asked, clearly pleased. “That’s wonderful.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up just yet,” Donata said. “I need to talk to someone first. I’ve been um . . . involved . . . with someone since we split up. Things have been a little rocky, but I need to find out if we still have a chance together before I make any other decisions. I’m sorry.”

  Anton raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And who would that be?”

  After she hesitated to answer, he chuckled. “You’re not talking about the Dragon’s son, are you? There’s no future for you there, Donata. He was only using you to help him with the painting.” He took her hand again. “I realize that we do not have a great passion like that you might find with a Dragon-child, but we get along quite well, don’t we? It would be no hardship for us to spend our lives together.”

  Donata felt like she’d been punched in the gut. What was that about the rest of their lives?

  “Are you asking me to marry you?” she asked cautiously. Ricky choked on his tea, sputtering helplessly.

  Anton looked startled, and then let out a great belly laugh, the first she’d ever heard from him. He let go of her hand as she glared at him.

  “I apologize for my reaction,” he said. “It is simply that we Anemoi do not have such a concept. Marriage is a romantic and economic institution more suitable for short-lived Humans and Witches than for creatures such as us. But yes, I am asking you to be my mate. I believe we could find a way to make it work.” He smiled at her with seemingly genuine affection. “You could do much worse, Donata. And not much better.

  “You can take some time to think about it if you wish,” he added solemnly. “But I beg of you, do not wait for too long. Something tells me that time is running out.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  The glowing numerals on the clock next to the bed blinked at her malignantly, taunting her with time she could neither slow nor change. Sputtering fitfully between waking and uneasy sleep, Donata finally gave up at three a.m. and turned on the light.

  From the end of the bed, Grimalkin blinked at her with dazed green eyes. He’d refused to come out as long as Anton was in the apartment and sniffed at her reprovingly when she patted the bed beside her in an attempt to get him to cuddle.

  “Fine,” Donata muttered. “Stay down there. I don’t need cat fur on my pillow anyway.”

  The bedroom door opened a crack and a large nose poked its way through. “Missus? You okay?”

  “I’m fine, Ricky,” she said with a sigh. “I just can’t sleep. You can come in if you want to.” She pulled the sheets up a little higher to cover her naked body; she’d discarded her tee shirt an hour ago after waking up to find it soaked with sweat from yet another disturbing dream.

  “I saw your light and thought I heard voices,” the Kobold said, his brow furrowed. He glanced around the room. “Is someone else here?”

  Donata gave a short laugh. “No, that was just me having a one-sided argument with Grimalkin.”

  Ricky squinted from her to the cat, who was pretending to ignore them both but listened with one ear cocked. “Ay? And who won?”

  She gestured at the end of the bed. “The cat, of course.”

  The little man snorted and came to sit on the edge of the comforter closest to the cranky feline.

  “So why can’t you sleep?” Ricky asked. “Not having more of them nightmares, are you? I watched real close and there was no way that Anton could have snuck anything into your tea without me seeing.” He reached out and scratched Grimalkin under his chin and was rewarded by a loud purr.

  “Traitor,” Donata said to the cat.

  “Nah, he just doesn’t like the smell of that Anemoi on you,” Ricky said. “We shoulda known there was something wrong with the guy when Grim wouldn’t go anywhere near him.”

  Donata rolled her eyes. “Grim doesn’t like any of the guys I date,” she said. “And to answer your question, no, I’m not having nightmares. At least, not exactly. Mostly I can’t seem to fall asleep, and when I do, I have these strange dreams and wake right up again. Just nerves, I guess. Not surprising, under the circumstances.”

  The Kobold patted her foot under the blanket, the only part of her he could reach from where he sat. He was too much of a gentleman to get much closer when she wasn’t wearing any clothes.

  “It does seem like you’ve had an awful lot heaped on your shoulders lately,” he said sympathetically. “All that extra trouble at work, and that Council fellow and your family and your boss all putting pressure on you to figure out what’s causing the increase in Paranormal crimes and somehow put a stop to it. Then there’s Raphael’s death and you and Peter loving and fighting and loving and fighting and not knowing which one it’s going to be next. And now there’s Anton trying to get you to go along with this crazy baby-making scheme of his.” He scowled, less at her than at all that she was dealing with. “It’s enough to give anyone sleepless nights.”

  Donata sighed. Her eyes were scratchy and felt like they were filled with sand. She’d barely slept all week, but tonight was shaping up to be the worst night yet. It was odd to have a Kobold as a housemate, but she had to admit that at times like this, his presence was a comfort. No wonder Clive Farmingham had gotten so attached to the little man.

  “I wonder if this was what Clive was talking about when he told me that the missing sixth race was dangerous and insisted that I use the Pentacle Pentimento to discover their identity,” she said, thinking out loud. “He was certainly right about them being a threat to both Humans and Paranormals.”

  Ricky looked triumphant—he’d been instrumental in forcing her to listen to his murdered friend, back when everything had started.

  “You see,” he said, an understandable smugness to his tone. “You should listen to me more often.” He crossed his arms across his chest stubbornly.

  Donata rolled her eyes. “I do li
sten to you, Ricky. But how can I say no to something this important? There’s so much at stake.”

  The Kobold rolled his eyes back. “There is if you believe what Anton says. But you only have his word for it that these Cleansers are really behind the agitation of the Paranormal community. Or that it would be safe for you to attempt this pregnancy.” He gave her a piercing glance. “Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life with a being that can’t even maintain a physical form for extended periods of time without the help of three others of his kind?”

  “Anton says he can find a way to deal with that. Maybe they would have to keep making golem bodies for him periodically, I don’t know. Or maybe he would only have physical form during the periods when we were actively involved in . . . um . . . creating children. You know.” She blushed. “Anyway, I think I believe him.” A huge yawn practically split her cheeks.

  Ricky glowered down the bed at her. “You are a good person, Donata, and your heart is in the right place. I admire your dedication to helping others. But you can’t rescue everyone. And you are too trusting.” He pursed his lips, making his long beard quiver. “Kobolds tend to be sneaky—I know a liar when I see one.”

  Donata tried to pry her tired eyes open so she could study his face in the dim bedroom light. “Hey, you’ve never lied to me, have you?”

  He just laughed.

  “Ricky!” she said indignantly.

  At the end of the bed, Grimalkin opened one slitted eye, gazed at her, snorted, and went back to sleep.

  Great—two against one. No fair.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Tired and cranky and feeling like shit, Donata trudged through the doors to the precinct a few minutes after nine the next morning. She’d slapped some concealer under her eyes in an effort to hide the worst of the dark circles that had taken up permanent residence there, and still nursed the burned tongue from a cup of coffee swallowed too fast on her way into work. Hopefully she didn’t look as bad as she felt.