Key to Conflict

by Talia Gryphon

  She would have gulped, but she didn’t have any saliva at the moment. Chuckling, Trocar settled himself on his back, crystalline hair fanned out on the bed beneath him, one arm pillowing his head, the other artfully positioned on his chest.

  “I do not intend to seduce you, Gillian. If you come to me, I want it to be willingly and without coercion.”

  “You’re Grael; don’t give me that crap. I know what you’re like,” she snorted.

  “You know what I have allowed you to see and what you have read in your little books, Captain.” His voice was extraordinarily beautiful in her ears.

  Faceted eyes were on her, pinning her where she sat. “You only know a competent, loyal officer who once served with you. You have no idea what I am capable of.”

  Damn. He was right. She didn’t know. She only trusted him based on past experience. They both weren’t in the military now, she was not his commanding officer and he wasn’t bound by anything other than their friendship. Did the Grael really maintain Human friends? As if reading her mind, he replied to her unspoken question.

  “Yes, we can and do have lifelong Human friends. Yes, we are called evil, but lawfully so. I have followed you in the past as I follow you now: out of loyalty, admiration and a certain fondness for you, Gillian. We could never be a mated pair, but I do profess to a definite sexual attraction. You are a very desirable female.” His voice had wandered into the I-am-currently-hard-as-a-crowbar timbre, making her shiver.

  Her eyebrows shot up at that and she glared at him. Trocar ignored her heated expression and continued. “You and Kimber are lovely, as are a great many humans, but you are women who have so much more depth to you than most. Human females generally manage to become simpering, clinging fools around an Elf’s beauty. That you do not, makes you particularly attractive.”

  Trocar was speaking completely without ego. He knew his race’s attributes and was simply stating fact. “You are loyal, intelligent, persistent and utterly ruthless when need be. I admire those qualities in a female and am proud to be called your friend.”

  Sweet, suffering Hera, his smile was lethal. Gillian was uncomfortable to say the least, but she rallied. “Thanks Trocar. If things weren’t so complicated right now, I might consider taking you up on your offer. As it is, I can’t, so don’t push it. I am glad we’re friends though, and I appreciate you being here to help me and be supportive.”

  “Despite that, do not forget what I am, Gillyflower.”

  “What is that?”

  “Grael.”

  He turned his back to her and settled in to sleep, leaving Gillian to ponder what that meant. Trouble was, she did know. He was bad; an opportunist at the very core of his being, no matter how nicely the package was wrapped. Trocar followed her for the exact reason he had said: he admired her and this was exciting for him. If she gave him no reason to distrust her, he would continue to be on her team. He wouldn’t overtly betray her to anyone or leave her side unless it was to his distinct advantage. Even then, he’d have the courtesy to tell her that he was out of the game before vanishing into whatever oblivion he went to when he wasn’t with her.

  Ordering those thoughts out of her mind, she settled down next to him on the bed, leaving the light on. She was drifting at the edge of slumber when she felt herself pulled against a hard, warm chest and her eyes flew open.

  “Shhh, Gillyflower, just relax and let me give you comfort this night. I will do you no harm. My word on it.”

  Hell with it, she thought. Trocar was warm and strong, plus he smelled nice. Black-robed mage that he was, he was a healer and a healer was a healer no matter what color their robes. She relaxed against him and allowed him to hold her while she slept. Nothing would get past a Dark Elf set on “protect.”

  The aforementioned Grael enjoyed holding his former commander. She was attractive and he would absolutely take advantage of the situation if she wanted it, but he wouldn’t force himself on her. Some of his personal characteristics set him apart from his brethren. Trocar had a certain morality that he twisted to fit his own worldview, something that puzzled even him.

  Gillian had earned his respect long ago, the first Human to ever do so. He owed it to her to keep her safe and not violate her trust. It was somewhat irksome to take the proverbial high road, so he contented himself with cupping her breast while he shifted closer, then slept himself, his senses on alert for anyone but the Werewolf or the other Human female coming through the door.

  Gillian’s first two thoughts as she jolted awake later that day were, Shit! and He’s holding my boob!

  The first was because a deep, melodious, Romanian voice had just stated, “This is very interesting, Dr. Key. Have you been searching for my brother in this diligent a fashion all along, or do you normally take Grael Elves as bed partners when things get…tense?”

  The second was because Trocar’s ebony hand was still gently cradling her breast, though he was awake and amused at her predicament. All this before she could focus her eyes, down any coffee, shoot Trocar out of principle or hit the censor button on her mouth.

  Bolting upright, she managed to shove Trocar off the bed, gain her feet and spring up underneath Aleksei’s nose sputtering, “What…who let you in here? Tanis is safe. We rescued him yesterday, you judgmental prick!”

  She stood nearly chest to abdomen with the tall Vampire Count, glaring up at him, her Nile-green eyes throwing sparks of fury. Aleksei’s own eyes went from shimmering pools of mercury to icy-hard platinum beneath raised brows. His sensual mouth tightened in aggravation at the little blonde before him.

  Before he could reply, Gillian was off again. “Why the hell are you here? In this room? In this country?” She started pacing while Trocar eased around the bed, watching her, giving the pair wide berth as he moved from the room.

  “Why aren’t you back minding the store where you’re supposed to be? I took care of finding Tanis; in fact we’re about to go get him. Now you come barging in here, making fuckwitted assumptions about what I’m doing in bed with an Elf…”

  The alarm clock on the nightstand picked that moment to go off loudly. Everyone jumped: Aleksei, Gillian and Trocar, even Kimber and Pavel in the next room. Gillian spun on reflex and kicked it with a roundhouse blow that sent it smashing against the wall. It broke her concentration long enough for her to realize she’d been rambling.

  Shoving her hands through her hair, she took a deep breath, then exhaled, matching him glare for glare. “Look Aleksei, nothing happened. We’re going to go get Tanis. If you want to come, fine, if not then stay here, but either way, stay out of my way.” She grabbed her pants, boots and pack, then stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door harder than necessary.

  Kimber appeared at Aleksei’s elbow. “I told you when we let you in that you wouldn’t like it if you came in here.”

  He spared her a chilly glance, his eyes hardening more as Pavel the wistful Werewolf appeared at her side, draping his arm over her protectively while Kimber grinned and kept going.

  “Count Rachlav, you are just like any other man who has tried to guess what our beloved Captain might do to gain information or to rescue a fellow team member; deals with Ghosts, sex with Elves, friendship with Vampires, where will it end?”

  She turned, looping her arm around Pavel’s waist. “Yes indeed, and you’ve been cut off at the knees just like the rest of them,” she finished happily.

  Hands tightening into fists, Aleksei sat stiff-backed on the bed, a fury that he’d never known almost overwhelming him. Jealousy. Over that damned Elf and Gillian. On cue, the bathroom door opened and Gillian, now fully dressed, started out, halting as she noticed him sitting there completely still. Still as only a well-seasoned Master Vampire could.

  Briefly, their eyes met. Aleksei’s were full of anger and something else, something deeper and more heated. Gillian’s were cold and defiant. She didn’t need the distraction right now. Right now, they needed to get back to Tanis and make sure that he had risen before D
racula’s pals found him.

  “You coming or going?” Gillian asked sharply, then headed out the door without waiting for an answer.

  “Lead the way, Doctor,” Aleksei replied, his voice clipped but still beautiful, rising to follow her with the unparalleled grace of an angry Vampire.

  She moved off, strapping her holsters on, sheathing guns and knives. Kimber and Pavel were helping each other on with their equipment, sniggering. A glare from Gillian shut them up. Trocar, dark, elegant and lovely, was waiting at the door, fully dressed, equipped and bemused. Gillian shook her head at him to remind him to keep his mouth shut. He said nothing, just opened the door for her and the rest of the party.

  Gillian led them downstairs in silence. They stopped at the front desk to drop off the room keycards, when the desk clerk gestured to them.

  “There are some detectives looking for you, Dr. Key.” He indicated a couple seated nearby.

  The man looked like he fell off a Viking recruitment poster—naturally blonde, blue-eyed, tall and handsome. His dark eyebrows were in sharp contrast to the golden hair, clipped ever so properly in a longish style. Gillian vaguely wondered if he knew he probably had Elf or Fey blood. The dark eyebrows with the platinum hair were a dead giveaway.

  The woman was tall but very slender, her hair was darker than the man’s and looked as though it had been frosted with gold. Her eyes, even from where they stood, were a golden brown. Something about her was odd and Gill couldn’t place it until she moved.

  The pair had seen the exchange with the clerk and rose to come to Gillian and her little party. The woman had an eerie grace that offset her more heavy-footed colleague. Lycanthrope of some kind, Gillian figured.

  “Dr. Key?” The man said hesitantly. “I am Inspector Brant McNeill, Scotland Yard, and this is Inspector Claire Jardin.”

  “What can I do for you?” Gill said bluntly.

  “We were contacted by Dr. Helmut Gerhardt of the International Paramortal Psychology Association. He suggested that you might need assistance regarding rescue of your friends and some knowledge of whom is behind the murder of a number of known transvestite and female prostitutes.” This was from the woman, who spoke with a light French accent.

  “Oh Jesus.” Gillian was annoyed. Gerhardt meant well, but he had just complicated their lives tremendously. “I am sorry if you were inconvenienced, but I really don’t have anything to tell you. Dr. Gerhardt is my mentor and friend and he worries sometimes.”

  She made her smile friendly and pleasant, her gaze direct, and avoided looking at Aleksei, who was staring at her incredulously as she blatantly lied. Everyone else had a poker face on and were giving the police no indication that it wasn’t the absolute truth.

  “Dr. Key,” Inspector McNeill said. “If you have any knowledge of these crimes, I must ask you to cooperate and provide us with the information.” He gazed at her with a rather stuffy expression.

  Gill was beginning not to like Inspector McNeill. When she didn’t answer right away, he added, “We can detain you, Dr. Key; you and your friends.”

  Shit. Yes, he could.

  “You know, Inspector, you can do anything you damn well please, but while we’re languishing in your interview room having crumpets, more people are going to die.”

  That took him aback for a moment. “People dying are what we are trying to avoid, Dr. Key.”

  “Then let us go and find our friends first, so they don’t die.” Gillian deliberately kept the anger out of her voice. No sense in pissing him off more than need be. “After that, we could meet and see if we can assist each other. If Scotland Yard has no objections, of course.”

  The others stared at her. Gillian had no intention of sharing anything with the local authorities if it could be avoided. With any luck, they’d be long gone before explanations would be necessary.

  Apparently Inspector Brant wasn’t buying it either. “Dr. Key, withholding information about a murder, or in this case several murders, is against the law here. I need your cooperation—voluntarily would be preferable, but we can detain you until you provide what you know.”

  It was official; she didn’t like Brant McNeill. “You get our friends hurt or killed with this delay and I will go straight to the media with Scotland Yard’s helpful attitude in this matter.”

  Gillian worked at suppressing a smirk. No law enforcement agency likes bad press. What she didn’t add was that, if anything happened to Tanis or Luis, she’d track down the good inspector herself for an unpleasant chat.

  Fortunately, Inspector Claire intervened. “Surely, Inspector McNeill, we can agree to wait for Dr. Key to find her friends, then speak with us.” Claire put her hand lightly on McNeill’s arm. “I am sure she is reasonable when she is not worried. Correct, Dr. Key?”

  Point for Inspector Jardin. “I am much more cooperative when I am not concerned about people I care for.” Gillian remained with feet apart and braced, arms crossed, in front of Brant McNeill, who looked as though he wanted to drag her to the Tower dungeons for some persuasion.

  McNeill didn’t like this one bit. He was a “by the book” cop, which left little room for compromise. He was also not stupid, and could see that threatening Dr. Key was not going to work. “Very well.”

  His eyes flicked to the little party. “I am certain, though, that you do not need everyone to attend you.” He pointed toward their little group. “You”—he indicated Kimber and Pavel—“will remain with us, answer a few questions, while Dr. Key and”—he waved absently at Aleksei and Trocar—“these others go after whom she is trying to find.”

  “Fine,” Gillian snapped. Jerking her arm toward the hotel entrance, she indicated for the others to follow her and left the two inspectors without a word.

  CHAPTER

  33

  T ROCAR fortunately remembered how he and Pavel had located Gill and Kimber in the first place and was able to lead them back to the shaded grove behind Oscar Gray’s estate. Aleksei glided alongside Gillian. Tall, silent and broadcasting his emotions like a beacon.

  Gillian stopped short and grabbed his arm. “Look, you are spilling anger and worry out all over me…me empath, you Master Vampire, remember? I can’t think clearly if I’ve got to wade through your emotional havoc, so tone it down a little, will you?”

  She didn’t wait for a response, just plowed on behind Trocar, trying to focus on where Tanis and Luis were, missing the dangerous gleam in Aleksei’s silvery gray eyes as he watched her ahead of him. Trocar held up a hand palm out and Gillian stopped instantly, feeling Aleksei mirror her just behind and left. Two ebony fingers flashed up, then the hand turned and slashed across once. Trocar was using the hand-signal code they had developed during their time in the service together. He signaled, two ahead, no weapons, then melted into the trees ahead. Not good, that meant “they” were badass enough not to need weapons. She was under no such illusions.

  Easing the Glock out of her pocket where it had been hidden in the loose-fitting material, Gill thanked the gods her preferred firearm didn’t require cocking and held it two-handed in front of her, pointed down. Her mind went to her calm, empty place and her breathing slowed as she waited, senses and empathy on full alert. Trocar knew his job and she trusted him to either take out whomever was stalking them or alert her as to how to fight it. Her focus was complete and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a large, warm hand softly touch her shoulder.

  Only years of training kept her from pulling the trigger as she whirled and leveled the gun at—Aleksei? What the…?!

  “Goddammit, Aleksei…” Gill hissed, but never got the rest of the sentence out. She felt rather than heard the disturbance in the very air around her and put out a hand to shove Aleksei back while she calmly turned to fire one-handed at whatever was about to pounce.

  Grabbing her extended arm, Aleksei jerked her behind him, stepping between her and the Vampire, which launched itself silently. There was a sudden roar of flame, a shriek, and a crunchy thud before
Gillian elbowed her way around Aleksei’s larger frame to see what the hell had just happened. Aleksei was staring at his hand, silvery eyes wide and a charred vampire about five feet in front of him.

  Before Gillian could open her mouth she heard a distinctive laugh. “That was great! Click! Whoosh! Foom!” Somewhat maniacal laughter followed as a tall brunette with streaks of fire-engine red and gold in her hair stepped out of the bracken.

  “Jenna? What the hell?” Gillian was rather surprised to see her former arsonist, or rather demolitions expert, Jenna Blaise brushing twigs off her black-on-black outfit and slinging her pet flamethrower, “Flicker,” back over her shoulder before embracing Gillian in a hug.

  “Umph!” Gillian managed as she was squished in the taller woman’s embrace. She looked up into Jenna’s lovely sparkling brown eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, I heard you were organizing a little slash-and-destroy mission, so I thought I’d pop in to lend a hand.” Jenna grinned madly, then turned her attention to Aleksei, who was still looking rather dazed. “Wow, he’s a tall one. Yummy looking, too. Good thing you pulled her back; it helped me differentiate you from the other bloodsucker.” Jenna never was one for tact when bluntness would do just as well.

  Gillian stepped back between Jenna and Aleksei just to make sure no one got torched who wasn’t supposed to. “How did you find us?”

  “The nice police officers at Scotland Yard heard about a certain famous parapsychologist being in town, so I went to your hotel. Kimber and that gorgeous hunk of Werewolf filled me in, so I hoofed it over this way. Lucky I caught up with you when I did.” Jenna was her chatty, charming self and Gill did feel better not being the only nonmagical being at the moment.