Lally opened the front door. “Morning. What can I do for you?”
“Are you Lally Hughes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is for you. Is Augustine Robelais here?”
“No, but he’ll be back soon.” Harlow had assumed he was sleeping in. For him to be up and out of the house already… She hadn’t pegged him as a morning person.
“Can you make sure he gets this?”
“I certainly will.”
“Thank you. Have a good day.”
The door closed and Lally meandered into view, holding two ivory envelopes. She tucked one under her arm and opened the other, pulling out a letter and standing in the library doorway as she read. “Well, I’ll be.”
“What is it?”
She lifted her eyes from the paper to look straight at Harlow. “It’s from Lionel Cuthridge?”
“My mother’s attorney.” She’d wondered when he’d be in touch again. “If that’s for me—”
“It’s not.” Lally held up the creamy sheet of paper. “Seems he wants Augustine and me there for the reading of the will, too.”
Harlow nodded. “I’m sure my mother left you both something. You especially. I know how much she loved you.” Olivia loved giving gifts. Her will was probably an endless list of people she’d had the briefest acquaintance with being left some small memento. She sighed. No doubt the reading of the will would take forever. All she wanted was her father’s name. Maybe the lawyer would start with her. Her LMD vibrated. She snatched it off the cushion beside her and unlocked it. A text from Cuthridge with the location of his office. Once again, she prayed Olivia had included the information about her father in these final documents.
But what if it didn’t? What if Olivia’s will was just her last grand gesture to her friends? Harlow hadn’t been anything close to friendly with her mother in a long, long time.
Lally lingered. “I guess we’ll know more this afternoon. We’re supposed to be at Mr. Cuthridge’s at three o’clock.” She tucked the letter back into the envelope. “I’ll go start some breakfast.”
Harlow just nodded. Suddenly she didn’t have much of an appetite.
Chapter Fourteen
With Beatrice’s assertive yes still ringing in his ears, Augustine’s confidence grew. He jogged down the back steps of the Guardian house and toward the detached garage. His plan was gelling. Now if he could just get Harlow to be helpful, but that was going to be an uphill battle. She didn’t seem like she’d want to help him do anything but move out.
The alarm panel lit as he tapped in the code Beatrice had given him. The garage door slid up. As it rose, he went very still, his mouth slightly open. Fenton had said there was a car, but car didn’t do this machine justice. There, in the darkness of the old wooden building, sat a Tesla Thrun. More muscle than car, the sleek black beauty had lines like a showgirl and was the automotive equivalent of a ninja on steroids. No doubt the vehicle had probably been upgraded with some kind of special Guardian package, too. Bulletproofed and all that.
Hell’s bells on Christmas morning. He ran his hand over the hood as he walked to the driver’s door. The windows were so darkly tinted he couldn’t see in. He grabbed the handle and pulled, but the car was locked. He dug his LMD out and brought the screen to life. Fenton had said the LMD would unlock the vehicle. One of the screen icons was shaped like a car. He tapped it.
And was rewarded with the soft snick of the door unlocking. Unable to stop smiling, he tossed the bag holding the vampire’s belongings into the back, then slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door. Every outside noise immediately went silent in the Thrun’s vaultlike interior, so quiet that his own heartbeat thumped audibly in his ears, the soundtrack to this very interesting new episode of his life. He adjusted the mirrors, figured out where some of the other controls were, then looked around for a way to start the beast, which was the only word that seemed to adequately describe the engine he knew was under the hood.
A fingerprint recognition pad sat next to the steering column. He pressed his thumb into it and the dashboard screen lit as the head-up display flickered to life on the windshield.
Great. More technology to learn. Jet fighters probably had simpler controls. He did the first thing that came to mind. “Engine on.”
A soft, feline purr greeted him.
He smiled as he eased the shift out of park and rolled the car into the driveway, then punched the button to shut the garage door and took off.
Five minutes later, he was home, slightly disappointed the drive hadn’t taken longer. He pulled through the rear gates and parked in front of the detached garage that held Livie’s Bentley and Aston Martin, then grabbed the vampire’s stuff and went into the house through the back door.
Lally was in the kitchen reading the cookbook he’d given her for Christmas. Looking up, she smiled. “Everything go okay this morning?”
“It did.” Except for someone murdering his only suspect, but she didn’t need that worry.
She stood, looking out the window. “That’s quite a car you came home in.” Her gaze shifted to him. “I didn’t think you were allowed to drive after that last ticket.”
“The Elektos took care of that.” He grinned. “I’ll take you for a spin later, if you want. It’s a fun ride.”
“I’m sure it is, but I’ll take your word for it considering how you got all those tickets.” She glanced at his waist. “I see you’re a little more armed than usual, too.”
“Elektos issued and NOPD approved.”
“How about that.” Her smile widened. “I saved you a plate from breakfast. You want me to warm it up?”
“Yes, I’m starving.” He set the bag on the floor, then poured himself a cup of coffee. “I haven’t been much help with planning things for Livie. I’m sorry about that. Tell me what you need done and I’ll do it.”
Lally squeezed his arm. “You’re doing what you need to and things here are all taken care of. She told me a long time ago what she wanted done and I’ve been following that. Her ashes will be delivered sometime this afternoon and then tomorrow, the house will be open from three to six so people can pay their respects. After that, we’ll have the processional to the cemetery to put the urn in the crypt. Except…”
“Except what?”
She pulled a foil-covered plate from the refrigerator. “Except Miss Olivia wants her ashes spread on the fae plane.”
“That’s not a problem. I can do that.”
“Yes, child, but for her to be interred in the Catholic cemetery, the ashes have to stay in the urn. Spreading them ain’t allowed.” She popped the plate into the convection oven. “People have to think she’s in there, so you’re going to have to be sly about getting those ashes out.”
He sipped his coffee. “I’ll figure it out. For Livie, anything.”
Lally smiled. “I knew you’d take care of it. Miss Olivia must’ve known, too. Thank you. Oh, and the florist will be coming by tonight to set things up in the parlor for the service tomorrow.”
He kissed her cheek. “Thank you for taking care of all this.”
“It’s my honor.” She brushed it off with a wave of her hand, but her eyes held gratitude for his appreciation.
“Is Harlow helping you with any of this?”
“That child didn’t even know how to snap beans.”
“I’ll take that as a no then. Is she around?”
Lally raised her brows. “She’s got enough to do grieving. You’re not going to cause more trouble, are you?”
“Not more than I already have.” He picked up the bag of the vampire’s things. “In fact, I’m going to be extra nice because I need her help on something.”
Giving him a look like she wished him luck, she tipped her head toward the front of the house. “In the library. Looking a little nervous. Don’t be gone too long. Your food’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
Already heading toward the library, he stopped. “What’s she got to be nervous ab
out?” Had she mentioned Nokturnos? What had happened had been consensual.
Lally peeked into the oven. “Messenger came by earlier, dropped off that envelope on the table for you. I got one too so I’m pretty sure yours says the same thing. Miss Olivia’s lawyer wants us at his office at three o’clock for the reading of the will.”
He tucked the paper bag under his arm, tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. He skimmed it for the pertinent parts. “Yep, that’s what mine says. You think Harlow’s afraid of what Livie might have left us?”
“More like worried about what her mother might not have left her. Told me earlier she plans on selling this house for half of what it’s worth so no one will worry about the history or how soaked in fae magic it is.”
He frowned. “Nothing I can do about that, but you know you have a place with me. And Khell’s widow, if things work out the way I think they will.”
“I ain’t going to leave this house.” She glanced at him. “Child, you’re going to have to explain that last bit.”
“Trust me, it’s nothing weird. First I need to talk to Harlow, regardless of what kind of mood she’s in, and see if she’ll help me.”
“Bonne chance,” Lally muttered.
Leaving the envelope on the table, he walked to the library. Harlow was on one of the couches, nose in a book, hair in a messy twist that made her look like she’d just gotten out of bed. And not from sleeping. Down, boy. He knocked on the wood trim around the open pocket doors. “Can I interrupt?”
She put the book down and shot him a bemused look. “Can I stop you?”
“Nope, but thanks for asking.” He pulled his LMD from his back pocket before taking a seat on the adjacent couch, adjusting the sword as he perched on the edge to be a little closer. All this paraphernalia was going to take some getting used to. “This is about your mother. I need your help.”
Harlow’s amusement was palpable as she set the book aside and sat up. “You need my help. This should be good.” She glanced at his LMD, then the sword. “If I say no are you going to run me through?”
“I’m being serious.” He looked at her gloved hands. “Despite your whole germaphobe thing, I know you wear those gloves because of the reason I originally guessed. The same reason you pulled away when I kissed you the night of Nokturnos.” Her cheeks colored, setting her freckles on fire and telling him he was on the right track. “There’s some kind of transfer with skin-on-skin contact, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? You inherited a bigger dose of your mother’s gifts than you care to admit.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he kept talking, unwilling to stop until she knew what he was after. “I’m hoping that’s the case, because…” He opened the bag and set it in front of her. “I need someone who can read these things and give me a clue as to where I can find the vampire that killed your mother. This stuff belonged to one of the members of his crew.”
The muscles in her jaw tightened. “Please stop talking about what happened the night of Nokturnos. I’ve put that behind me and you should too.”
Based on the way she reacted when he brought it up, he doubted her success at putting that kiss behind her. He certainly wasn’t about to.
“Instead why don’t we talk about how I was told my mother was mugged, but that’s the second time I’ve heard the word vampire used. Was she mugged by a vampire?”
“Not just one. A pack of them.” He wasn’t in the mood to explain that night in detail. Telling Harlow he’d been the reason her mother had gotten killed would only lower his chances of getting her help. “That’s why I’m hoping the stuff in this bag will lead me to the pack’s leader.”
Her mouth closed and her gaze shifted to the bag. “You are being serious, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
She studied him, like she was searching for some kind of answer. “How did you survive before my mother took you in?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do. I think you can tell me that much.”
His narrowed his gaze. “I survived however I could.”
“What does that mean?”
He snorted. He’d forgotten he was talking to a woman who’d had the benefit of Olivia’s fortune growing up.
“I’m serious. What did you do?”
“Hard things. Stealing. Gambling.” He paused. “Fighting.”
“Killing?”
“If it meant staying alive.”
She dropped her gaze to stare at the bag. Her hands curled into balls. “I can’t do what you’re asking.” She slid forward, pulled the edge of the paper back and peered in a little deeper.
Her answer didn’t satisfy him. “Have you ever tried to read an object?”
“I’ve never tried to read anything. I just touch people and their emotions overwhelm me.” A faraway look filled her eyes and her heartbeat jumped up a notch, making him guess she was thinking about their kiss. What had she felt from him? How much he’d enjoyed it? Why would that scare her off? “That’s why I wear the gloves. I hate being… invaded like that.”
“I can imagine it’s pretty upsetting. Do you just get emotions or do you get pictures?”
She sat back. Her hand strayed to the book she’d been reading, her thumb rubbing the cover. “Emotions, pictures, scents, sounds, it’s a whole freaking sensory overload.” She shuddered like it was too much to bear. “I hate being fae. I hate not being normal.”
In that moment, she sounded very much like his mother. His skin prickled with memories, but he swallowed down the unintended hurt. “Normal is relative. What’s normal to the fly and what’s normal to the spider are two very different things.”
“Fabulous. Is that fae philosophy? Which one are you? The spider or the fly?”
“In the case of these vampires, I’d like to be the web. So what do you say? Will you read these things?”
The pulse at her throat ticked.
“All I’m asking you to do is try.” As Guardian, he could probably order her to do it, but his position wouldn’t hold any sway with someone who didn’t even want her fae abilities. “Look, these vampires are still out there, roaming the streets of this city. It’s only a matter of time before they kill again. Or worse, come back here to finish what they started.”
Her eyes rounded. “You think they’re going to come back here? How much danger are we in?”
“None, so long as I find them first.” Maybe he could get Fenton to send a weaver over and ward the house. It couldn’t hurt and as Guardian, it was certainly within his power to have it done.
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ll think about it.”
“I need you to try now. I know you had a difficult relationship with your mother, I know you don’t like me, but try to see past that.” He bent his head a moment and tried to maintain his cool. He had no patience for her stubbornness. Not when so much was at stake.
Finally, he looked at her again. He had to tell her the truth and hoped she understood how important this was to him. “Your mother wasn’t mugged. I killed the gang leader’s girlfriend. They followed me back here.” The words burned his throat as the confession left his mouth. “I’m the reason they went after her. Revenge.” Anger and revulsion swirled through him in equal measures. “I’m asking for your help so I can make this right.”
She stiffened, pain etching her face. Her jaw worked as she seemed to be searching for something to say.
He understood that pain. “I can’t bring her back, but I can rid the city of the vampires and the person responsible for them being here.”
That seemed to loosen her vocal chords. “How could you? You live here scot-free on my mother’s dime, eating her food, using her electricity, taking full advantage of the comfortable life she provides, and then you lead monsters to her door and let them kill her?”
He bit back the words he really wanted to say. “I didn’t let them—”
“You didn’t stop them, either.” She jumped to her
feet, eyes shining with tears. “Just one more reason to hate all things fae.” She nudged the bag with her foot. “I’ll try to read this stuff, but it’s not for you. It’s for my mother, understand?”
“Loud and clear.” A worse reaction than he’d expected, but if it helped him get a lead on the vamp boss, he’d bear it.
She shook with anger or grief, he couldn’t tell. “I can’t be in this house with you a minute longer than necessary. Not now that I know you’re responsible for my mother’s death. I need you out of here as soon as we get back from the lawyer’s.”
He sat back, nodding slowly and keeping his voice calm just like he used to when his mother yelled at him. Except with her it never worked. “I am very sorry to have upset you. Trust me when I tell you my responsibility in this will be a burden I carry the rest of my life.”
Her glare sharpened. “I am not my mother. You can’t charm me into forgiving this.”
He held his hands up. There was only so much he could take. “I’ll get out of your house as soon as I can.” Beatrice would just have to deal with him being there earlier than anticipated. Good thing he’d already spoken to her.
She grabbed the bag and upended it onto the coffee table. Chest heaving, she ripped one glove off and planted her hand squarely on the vampire’s leather jacket. “There. Happy? I can’t sense a damn—”
Her eyes rolled back in her head and she jerked hard like she’d grabbed a live wire. A second later, she collapsed onto the couch behind her.
“Lally!” Augustine flew to Harlow’s side, his fingers pressing her neck for a pulse even though he could hear it pounding. He shook her gently. “Harlow, are you all right?”
Lally ran in. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. She grabbed that leather jacket to see if she could read anything off it and then she passed out.”
“I’ll call the doctor.”
As Lally rushed toward the door, Harlow let out a soft breathy sigh followed by a moan. A faint sheen of sweat covered her brow.
House of the Rising Sun Page 16
