by Nova Archer
“It’s okay, Theron. I already know your secret.”
He felt like the room had closed in on him. His lungs couldn’t fill with air. He was being crushed from the inside out. Was she doing it? Or was it his own anxiety putting the clamp of fear on his body?
He reached out and set his hand on the display case to keep from falling over. Sweat had beaded on his brow and lip. He felt a trickle down his temple. She was grinning at him now, fully aware she had him by the balls.
“I know why you’re here, Theron.” Her voice came to him as a whisper. He wanted to swipe at the prickly sensation her words made over his ear. But he was immobile—as if frozen in spot. Completely vulnerable to her.
“I came to pay my respects,” he managed to say through the pressure in his head
“You came to make sure I’ll keep your secret. That I won’t tell your friends in the OCU, especially the witch, about your naughty habits.” She leaned into him, her mouth only inches from his. “Habits involving black magic,” she purred.
“No,” he spat, trying to shake his head.
Garbled whispers buzzed in his ears. He looked around the room searching for the source.
“Oh yes. I know what happened all those years ago, Theron. Your daddy told me all about it.”
“I’m not that man anymore.”
“Sure you are.” She ran a finger over his mouth, down his neck and to his chest. She made a figure eight with her nail repeatedly on his shirt. “I can see the demon marks on you. I can see them when no one else can. Right there in your heart.” She poked him hard in the chest.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to pull away from her. It was futile, she was much too powerful. Again, the hushed murmurs sounded in his ears. Was there someone else in the room?
Trailing her finger back up, she rubbed it over his lips. “How did hurting that girl feel? Did you get off on it?” Her hand moved down again and cupped him through his pants. “Are you getting hard just thinking about it?”
“It was an accident.”
“Of course it was darling. Aren’t they all just accidents? Your daddy cleaned it all up for you so no one would know. So no one would suspect that Theron LeNoir was a practitioner of the dark arts and a young innocent girl was hurt at his hands by his magic.”
Tears rolled down Theron’s cheeks. His negligence and ignorance of the black magic had cost a young girl her hands. They’d been burnt beyond repair. He had been young and foolish, thirsty for his own wealth and power. His quest had ended in tragedy. And yes, he would do anything to keep that secret from the others, especially Lyra.
“Are you blackmailing me?”
She smiled again and chucked him under the chin. “My silence for yours.”
“My silence in what? I don’t know anything.”
“Sure you do. Think back to your dark days, Theron and it will come to you.”
“I’m not that man anymore,” he groaned, feeling like his larynx was being crushed in a steel vise.
“We’ll soon see.” The mistress patted him on the cheek and then gave him a quick kiss on the mouth.
Everything went black, as if the lights had been suddenly turned off in his mind. No sound or sensation could penetrate the dark surrounding him. He couldn’t even feel himself. Where was he?
“You don’t like the tea?”
The mistress’ voice came through, startling Theron. Blinking back the moisture in his eyes, he gazed around, feeling disoriented and dizzy.
He was sitting at the table, a teacup in his hand, the taste of lavender on his lips.
Lady Ankara sat across from him, her cup sitting on the matching plate on the table. She was regarding him with curiosity.
Theron turned his head and looked around again. What had just happened? Had he imagined it all? Had it been a spell.
Feeling flushed, he set his cup down and picked up his napkin to dab at his mouth. The cloth of the napkin was unsoiled. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling well.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Perhaps it would be best if my driver took you back to your hotel. Maybe you need to rest. I imagine working on this case has been very trying.”
He nodded and stood, setting his napkin on the table. “It has, thank you.”
“Well, I hope we can do this again, soon, Theron.”
“As do I, Lady Ankara.” He bowed his head, sweat still dotting his upper lip.
“However brief, I did find our visit stimulating.” She smiled.
His breath whooshed out of his lungs again. Without another word, Theron got up and left the house. The moment he was outside, he took in a few ragged breaths of cleansing air.
Although Theron didn’t think he’d ever feel clean again. Lady Ankara Jannali had effectively frightened him to the core. She had power he’d never even heard of someone possessing. And she knew his secret. That was a bad combination.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The moment Theron returned to the lab and met with the team in the conference room, Lyra knew something had happened. His demeanor had changed and his eyes had a dark, haunted look. But he kept insisting everything was fine when she asked him.
He kept his gaze fixed on the table as he spoke. “I didn’t learn anything of importance. It was foolish to think I could.”
“Did she say anything strange or out of context?” Caine asked. “You’d be surprised what has relevance or not.”
“We drank tea and talked about my father and,” he paused, and Lyra saw uncertainty cross his face, “about collecting. She knew I was a collector and shared a favorite piece of hers.”
“What piece?”
“An old Egyptian bronze statue. It had to have been over four thousand years old.”
Caine frowned. “There has been a lot of speculation of Lady Ankara’s origins. Maybe that statue has something to do with her heritage.”
“Are you suggesting the mistress is a four thousand year old Egyptian vampiress?” Jace asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“But what has that got to do with our case?” Lyra asked.
“Probably nothing, but I find it interesting she revealed that to Theron. The mistress doesn’t do anything without purpose.”
“Maybe she just likes Theron,” Jace suggested, leaning forward on the table, clearly agitated. “He’s an okay looking guy, if you go for the European thing. Maybe she wants to date him.”
Caine lifted a hand.
“Tell me everything that went on, Theron. Don’t leave anything out. Something that may seem trivial to you could be just the link we are looking for.”
“Her driver picked me up in a Mercedes, I’m assuming the vehicle that’s on your list registered to him, drove me to her home. I was escorted to her tea room which was also her collection room.”
“What kind of collection?” Caine asked.
“Paintings, sculptures, ancient statues like the one I told you about...”
“Any books?”
Theron shook his head, then frowned. “Actually, yes there were a few leather backed tomes in the room, but they weren’t under glass so I just assumed they were not part of her collection.”
“What did she serve?” Caine asked.
“Tea.”
“What kind?” Lyra could sense Theron was keeping information back. It was in the way he avoided Caine’s gaze every time the chief asked a question. She had a feeling Caine could sense Theron’s hesitancy, too.
Theron looked at her then. “Lavender.”
“What? Why would she serve that?”
Caine leaned forward on the table. “I admit to not ever having any but what’s wrong with lavender tea?”
“It’s not a usual blend and most times used for the sole purpose of masking something else in the tea, like a potion or a poison.”
“Well, I think it’s safe to say it wasn’t poisoned as Theron is still sitting here,” Jace remarked.
Panic surging through her, Lyra set her hand Theron’s arm. “Were you spelled?”
&nbs
p; “I don’t know, maybe.” He frowned. “I heard a lot of low whispering in the room, as if there had been several other people there.”
“Were there?” Caine asked.
“Not that I could see.”
“What else happened?” Lyra asked. “Did she do something to you?”
“No,” he answered, as he pushed to his feet, effectively removing Lyra’s hand from his arm. “And if you’re through interrogating me, I think I will go out and get some air.”
She watched as he exited the conference room, concern filling her. It was obvious something disturbing had happened to him at the mistress’s and he was either too ashamed or afraid to talk about it. A plethora of scenarios whizzed through Lyra’s mind. All of them making her cringe with various emotions. Jealousy at the forefront. Had he succumbed to the mistress’ seductive charms? Was that what he was hiding from her?
“The guy’s hiding something,” Jace grunted as he leaned back in his chair.
“We’re treating him like a suspect, interrogating him,” Eve said. “I’d be angry too.”
Caine nodded. “I agree, Eve. We asked him to do something, he did it, and we thanked him with an interrogation. He’s a civilian not a trained professional, we have to remember that.”
Jace huffed. “I still think he’s hiding something.”
“Honey, you think everyone’s hiding something.” Tala patted Jace on the shoulder.
“Yeah, and I’m usually right.” He turned his gaze to Lyra. “You need to be careful there, witchy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lyra sneered at him, feeling his gaze boring into her.
“Yes, you do.”
Caine cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s take a break then reconvene in a couple of hours. We have the mistress’ centennial to attend, but not until nine, so we have some time yet.” He glanced down at the open folder on the table. “Jace, check in with Rick to see how he’s doing with piecing Gwen’s research back together. Eve get with Givon and go over all the reports we have on our victims past and present, make sure we’re not missing anything. Tala, call Mahina and see where she’s at with the other Mercedes owners. Someone driving one of those vehicles is involved somehow.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe they’re all involved. We need to start putting some pressure on these people. Since Nadja’s alibi held up, we need another prime suspect.”
“You don’t think the mistress is one?” Lyra asked.
“I don’t know what to think at this point. We’re losing this case. And the killer is winning. We can’t let that happen.”
Everyone pushed to their feet and started filing out of the room to do their assigned tasks. Lyra was at the door when Caine called her back.
“Lyra please stay for a minute.”
Turning, she walked back to the table and sat in a chair near Caine. She felt like she had when she was sent to the principal’s office in high school for spelling the quarterback before the big football game.
“Is there something I should know about?”
She gnawed on her bottom lip. “Not that I can think of.”
“About you and Theron?”
“I really hope you’re not going to lecture me about getting involved with someone you work with, considering who you just recently married.”
“No, I’m not going to lecture you.” He eyed her intensely, and she could tell he was trying to wriggle his way into her emotions. “But I am going to tell you to be careful. Theron is a guarded man—that much is obvious. I believe there are things he is keeping quiet about.”
“Everyone’s entitled to their privacy.”
“True, but when it starts to interfere with this lab and with one of my investigators, then that concerns me greatly.” Caine reached across the table and grasped Lyra’s hand. In all the years she’d worked for him, she could count on one hand the times he had touched her, offering her some sort of comfort or affection. “If you had information you knew would affect this case or about anyone working on this case you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course,” she said without hesitation, but her mind wandered to the warning Claire gave her.
He studied her for a long moment then released his hold on her hand and sat back in his seat. “What do you think about Mistress Jannali? Do you think she’s involved with this?”
Surprised at his question, Lyra frowned. Usually Caine didn’t ask her for her opinion when it came to suspects and paths to follow. He usually asked her stuff about magic and spells, and areas he knew little about. Why was he asking her now?
“I don’t know, but I do believe she’s more than what we think she is.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I think she can see the dead.” Lyra rubbed her thumb over her amulet, finding comfort in the act. Nerves rang through her as she continued, “Gran put a protection spell over me when the mistress was here, and I think she heard gran’s voice and saw where her spirit was hovering over me.”
“If that’s true, what does that mean?”
“I can see Eleanore because she’s tied to me spiritually, but no one else can see her, not unless the person has been between the world of the living and the world of the dead.”
“What kind of creature can move between the two worlds?”
“Demons.”
Both Lyra and Caine turned toward the door. Theron stood in the frame, looking tense and pensive.
“You think Ankara Jannali is a demon?” Caine asked, a look of incredulousness on his face.
Theron came fully into the room but didn’t take a seat at the table. “I don’t know. You asked what kind of creature can move between worlds, and I’m telling you demons can.”
“Do you care to elaborate on how you know that?”
“No, I do not.”
Lyra stared at Theron. She knew how he knew about demons. It was so obvious but she didn’t want to face it. Hadn’t the physic Claire warned her about it?
Theron practiced the dark arts. It had been staring at her in the face the whole time, the book, his knowledge of demon summoning, his excess power and advance magic, and now his knowledge of demons. He practiced the very thing she abhorred. Why would her gran tell her to trust this man when he went against everything Lyra held dear in this world?
Caine glanced between Lyra and Theron, likely sensing the growing tension between them. “Remember to be at the mistress’ home between nine and ten this evening.”
“I’ll be there,” Lyra said.
“We’ll be there together,” Theron amended.
Caine nodded, then quickly left them alone.
Lyra stood, a hand on her hip and pointed at Theron. “You’re a black practitioner.”
“I was once, yes, but not anymore.”
“You lied to me.”
“No, I actually I didn’t. You never asked if I’d ever practiced the dark arts.”
Anger and sorrow brought tears to her eyes. “An act of omission is just as bad as a lie.” She wiped angrily at her tears, feeling foolish for believing in Theron. He wasn’t the man she thought him to be, or wanted him to be.
“It was a long time ago, Lyra and I learned from my mistakes.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“Maybe not, but I’ve paid the price for my misdeeds. And I won’t be made to pay again.”
The bitter, emotionless look he gave her made her take a few steps back. He didn’t appear to be the same man she’d been kissing a mere twelve hours before. Gone was the devil-may-care glint in his eye and the confident yet alluring air that seemed to hover all around him. He had changed somehow, and Lyra wasn’t sure when it had happened. Had she been blinded by her feelings for him?
“I can’t believe you kept this from me, after all, after everything we’ve been through.”
“It should be obvious why I did.”
“Well it isn’t. I guess I’m the dumb witch after all.” Hurt beyond reason, she turned away from him un
able to keep looking at him without crying. She didn’t want to give him her tears, too, after he abused her trust.
“I knew you would react this way, Lyra. I knew you would look at me with disgust in your eyes. That’s why I kept it from you, because I find it difficult to bear that one I care about would regard me in that way, as if I were unworthy.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away. “If you truly cared about me, you would leave right now.”
“I will leave, for now. But I’m not leaving Necropolis without dealing with this thing between us. We have something Lyra, and I won’t let you disregard it because of my past.”
She swung around to yell at him, to tell him there was nothing between them, nothing that could be resurrected after his admission, but he was already walking out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Theron waited at the doorway to the ballroom, scanning the crowd milling about in the foyer. Lady Ankara’s centennial celebration was in full swing behind him, but he had no desire to partake in any festivities. Worry tightened his jaw as he waited for Lyra to appear.
He had called her house and her cell phone but she hadn’t answered either. He had arranged a car to take them to the party, but obviously she had no plans to arrive with him. She was angry at him, but he felt she was being foolish by operating on her own. No matter what she thought of him, she was still in danger. The woman was stubborn as a mule.
Caine and Eve approached him, both dressed in refinery—Caine in a tux, Eve in an elegant black gown.
“I don’t see Lyra, is she with you?” Caine asked, craning his neck to look around the moving crowd.
“No. The witch is being obstinate.”
“I told you not to leave her alone.”
“I realize that, Caine, but the woman has a very determined mind of her own.”
The woman in question took that very moment to arrive at the house. She pushed through the crowd to where they stood, and Theron lost all thought and reason.
She was a vision of magnificence in a flowing silk dress the color of newly budded leaves. Her hair was pinned up in a tousled auburn pile of loose curls. A few strands had already escaped to frame her pale oval face.
