Conviction

by Jennifer Blackstream

  “And where were you, Mother Renard?” Siobhan pressed. “Last night, after you left the bar. Where were you?”

  I gritted my teeth. “I was home. Sleeping.”

  “And I was with her!” Peasblossom added.

  I took a step forward, and Siobhan planted herself in front of me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I was supposed to meet with Kylie and Vincent now to talk about last night’s findings,” I said calmly. “I’m going to speak with them.”

  “They’re busy,” Siobhan snapped. “They have another scene to process now that your trigger-happy friend has got a taste for murder.”

  “You may as well wait to hear the evidence of both scenes,” Marilyn spoke up. She moved closer, not putting herself between me and Siobhan, but making sure she was in the kelpie’s peripheral vision. A reminder of whose property we were on. “They will finish soon, I’m sure. And until then, you’re welcome to wait at the house.”

  “I’ll wait here, thank you,” Siobhan said flatly.

  She pivoted on her heel and marched to the end of the pier to glare at Vincent and Kylie where they worked on the scene. Marilyn gave her a withering look, but didn’t say anything.

  Again, my attention shifted to Morgan. She stood there on the pier with a look of uncertainty, wringing her gloved hands in front of her, the soft grey leather silent in the way only very expensive leather could be. Her skin was still blue from her unfortunate encounter with Majesty, and a thick, ugly scar stood out on her left cheek. My stomach turned as I remembered how she’d gotten that mark. How she’d carved it into her own flesh under Marilyn’s influence. Punishment for what she’d done to Simon.

  Something seemed different about her. Something more than just the doubt that looked so out of place in her expression. It took me a second to realize what it was.

  She wasn’t transfixed by Scath.

  For the first time since I’d been bringing Scath around, Morgan wasn’t looking at the feline sidhe with that pale expression of horror usually reserved for victims confronting criminals who’ve wronged them. Or vice versa. So what had happened to distract her from her obsession?

  “Marilyn, why was Deacon in your boathouse?” I asked.

  “Siobhan asked if he could stay here. She seemed to feel he was in some danger after being witness to a murder. A murder committed by Agent Bradford?” Her voice lilted at the end, making it a question.

  “He’s innocent, and I’m trying to prove it. I would appreciate it if you would answer some questions.”

  “You’re attempting to prove him innocent of the original murder, or this one?” Marilyn asked.

  “Both.” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my temper under control. It wasn’t easy. Not with Morgan standing there. Maybe it was just me, but she looked guilty.

  “Have they found any evidence to even suggest Agent Bradford was here?” Liam asked. “Surely you would have known if he was on your property?”

  Morgan winced. “Actually, he was here. And I’m afraid that’s my fault.”

  I stared at her, a thousand words fighting to be the first out of my mouth. “What?”

  Marilyn’s eyes brightened with interest as she looked between Morgan and me.

  “I called Andy.” Morgan bit her lip. “I invited him here.”

  I lost my voice for a second. I hated hearing Andy’s name on her lips. She had no right to call him by his first name, let alone sound so familiar. Not when so much of this was her fault.

  Even more than I’d suspected five minutes ago.

  “Why did you invite him?” Liam asked.

  Morgan smoothed her gloved hands down her skirt. “When Siobhan brought Deacon here, I found out about what happened at the bar. I’ll admit I felt some…responsibility.”

  Peasblossom crossed her arms. “I would certainly hope so.”

  Morgan didn’t look at the pixie. “I asked Andy to come here. I told him I might have a way to help.”

  “How?” I asked, not bothering to hide my incredulity.

  Morgan spread her hands in front of her. “I thought perhaps Deacon would speak more freely here, without Siobhan present to intimidate him. Surely that occurred to you?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Yes. But I certainly wouldn’t have done it here. And I certainly wouldn’t have left him alone near Deacon, without a witness, so that someone could frame him for a second murder.”

  Morgan stiffened. “I’m so sorry I spilled my wine and had to change. I didn’t see a problem with leaving Andy alone, since I don’t believe he’s guilty.” She cleared her throat. “And I realize I should not have encouraged Andy the way I did. With the kelpies. Part of this whole mess feels like my fault, and I wanted to help.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that!” I sucked in a breath as I forced my voice back down to a normal conversation level. “You lured him here, where the witness was. It didn’t make sense for him to come here. He shouldn’t have come here.”

  “I can’t win with you, Shade,” Morgan said, the first hint of anger warming her voice. “But maybe Andy has a higher opinion of my motives.”

  “And look where it got him,” I growled.

  Morgan crossed her arms. “He came over, and we shared a meal. I offered to take him down to the boat where Deacon was staying. Then I spilled wine on my dress, so I had to excuse myself to change.” Her gaze flitted between me and Liam. “Andy told me to take my time. When I returned, we finished eating, and he left.”

  I caught Liam looking at me out of the corner of his eye, and for some reason it rubbed me the wrong way.

  “Did he have a gun on him when he came here?” I said, forcing the words out before I could reconsider.

  Morgan flinched. “He did. But I made him leave it in the car,” she added quickly. “Anyone could have taken it.”

  “Is there anyone else on the property that’s familiar with guns?” Liam asked. “Anyone who’d be comfortable using one?”

  I gritted my teeth. He was using a weird voice. Overly cautious. As if he were worried about my reaction to his questions. I lifted my chin and looked Morgan in the eye, waiting for her answer even as my heart pounded. Chances of someone else familiar with firearms here were slim. Not many sidhe took the pains Flint did to carry a weapon with a minimum of iron.

  Morgan hesitated, then looked to Marilyn. Seeking permission.

  I turned my attention to the blonde sidhe who owned the property, and by all available evidence, held some sort of control over Morgan. Marilyn paused, clearly debating whether or not to let her answer.

  “How’s Simon?” I kept my voice low, not rude but with an edge that suggested I could become so very quickly if circumstances warranted it.

  If I hadn’t been watching her face so carefully, I’d have missed it. The slight tightening of the skin around Marilyn’s eyes.

  “He’s doing well with his therapy,” she said finally. She clasped her hands in front of her. “You may as well come up to the house. There is one guest here who’s familiar with those wretched weapons.”

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  Marilyn turned and started back toward her manor. “Raphael has been my guest for a couple of months now.”

  Raphael.

  Liam turned to me, sensing the rigidity in my body language. “Who’s Raphael?”

  Peasblossom shot into the air, her wings buzzing furiously behind her. “Someone who tried to kill my witch!”

  Chapter 9

  “He tried to kill you?”

  Liam’s aura flared, searing the side of my body closest to him and making me take a step away. He noticed my reaction, and I felt him wrestle it back under control, returning to a low humming heat that wasn’t altogether unpleasant on a cold October afternoon.

  “Not exactly.” I flexed my fingers, trying to get rid of the need to throw a spell. First the second murder, then seeing Siobhan, then Morgan. Finding out Raphael was here as well wasn’t doing anything for my nerve
s. Or my temper.

  I was starting to understand why Mother Hazel had held off on training me in magic for so long. Why she’d stressed so many other skills before that one, weighted them more heavily. My magic wanted to be used, and there were far more situations that would be made worse by magic, than those that would be made better.

  Like this one.

  Raphael’s voice echoed in my memory, full of fury as he charged the stage after Marilyn ended my auction and handed me over to Flint.

  “You’ll pay for your crimes!”

  I still had no idea what crimes he was referring to. I’d never met Raphael before that night. Not that I remembered, anyway.

  “He tried to attack me after the auction, but Scath intervened.” Saying her name made me look down. Scath stood on all fours beside me, her green eyes locked on Morgan, seemingly oblivious to the conversation going on over her head.

  This time when I looked at the blue-skinned sidhe, Morgan was very obviously trying not to look at Scath. There was enough tension singing through her spine that I swore I could hear it vibrating like a tuning fork. And she curled her hands into fists so tight, if she hadn’t been wearing gloves she’d have drawn blood.

  Marilyn noticed all of that, and seemed to be considering the implications. It wasn’t until then that I realized Marilyn didn’t look at Scath the same way Morgan did.

  “Peasblossom?” I asked after she’d settled herself behind my neck, speaking low enough not to be overheard. “When this is over, remind me to make a list of everyone who reacts oddly to Scath.”

  The pixie’s wings stilled, then continued fanning from her spot under my hair. I felt her nod.

  On the way to the main house, I filled Liam in on the basics of my previous experience with Raphael. Including the leannan sidhe’s gift. Every leannan sidhe had an emotional specialty on top of their natural ability to boost the abilities of others through “inspiration.” For Raphael, it was pure adrenaline, the excitement that usually drove people to engage in questionable hobbies, like bungee-jumping and running with the bulls.

  Liam tensed when I mentioned that part of Raphael’s gift. Though he recovered quickly I noticed the hesitation in his step, and the reason dawned on me.

  Raphael’s gift could have disastrous implications for a werewolf.

  It was too late to turn back now. Marilyn led us in the front door, through the cavernous foyer to the same sitting room where I’d been just a few short months ago. The room where I’d greeted the suspects in the last case Flint had assigned me. The one that had ended with him fleeing to Europe. And then to Andy investigating him.

  To finding out about Anton Winters’ five million dollar donation to the Buy Shade fund.

  “Morgan, wait here with our guests while I invite the others to join us.”

  Marilyn’s voice tore me out of my reverie. I saw Morgan shift her attention from Scath long enough to give our blonde host a nod.

  As soon as Marilyn left, I whirled to face Morgan. “When was Andy here?”

  Morgan walked over to a gilded cart with glass shelves full of hand-crafted bottles of what I assumed was expensive liquor and wine. She grabbed a tumbler and poured a reddish brown liquid into it. “He arrived a little after one o’clock. Maybe one-thirty.” She glanced up at me. “Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t sleeping when I called.”

  “And how long did he stay?”

  “He left a little before three.” Morgan put her hand on her glass, but hesitated. “He really didn’t tell you he was coming here?”

  She didn’t look at me when she asked the question, which was fortunate, since I was pretty sure the look on my face was murderous enough to void a hospitality agreement. “What did you and Andy talk about? Specifically?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I will as soon as I meet up with him later,” I said lightly. “But for now, it’ll be easier if you tell me.”

  Morgan took a sip of her drink, obviously buying a second to compose herself. “I’m sorry, Mother Renard. I’m not comfortable sharing Andy’s personal business without his permission.”

  “You called him,” I said tightly. “It wasn’t his personal business, it was yours.”

  “It started that way, yes.”

  The urge to lash out was strong. There was no smugness in her voice, but it was the lack of smugness that felt like mockery. As if she knew just how much her calm got under my skin.

  “He’s about to be charged with a second murder,” I ground out. “A murder he wouldn’t be on the hook for at all had he not been here. I need to know why he was here and what he talked to you about.”

  “Then I suggest you ask him.”

  I bit back the string of swear words that sprang to my mind. “Morgan, if I can’t prove Andy’s innocent, Siobhan will kill him. And it will be on your head.”

  Morgan winced. For the first time, I noticed her hand was trembling. “I won’t tell you what we talked about,” she said quietly, “but I will tell you that now that I understand his reasons for certain behaviors. And if I told you what we’d talked about, you would wish you had never asked.”

  “You’re wrong. You keeping secrets about Andy will not do me any favors.”

  Morgan pressed her lips together, then took one of my hands in her free hand. “Let me rephrase that. It’s better if you can honestly say you didn’t know.”

  That got my attention.

  I stared at Morgan as she released my hand and stepped back. I didn’t know what to say to that. I shared a look with Liam. His blue eyes looked darker than they had before. As if there were new shadows there. Doubt maybe. Or sadness.

  Part of me worried he was starting to believe Andy was guilty.

  “Maybe you should text Andy and tell him about the deal,” Peasblossom whispered.

  “What deal?” Morgan asked quickly.

  Scath growled and padded a step closer to Morgan. The sidhe jerked back. This time she did spill her drink. Her pupils swallowed the rest of her eyes until they were a solid black. The air filled with the musty scent of feathers, and for a moment, I swore I could hear wings rustling.

  “Don’t threaten me,” Morgan seethed. “I am not easily fooled. And I will not hesitate.”

  Scath bared her teeth, her green eyes glowing brighter.

  “What is this bad blood between you and Scath?” I demanded. “How you do know her, or about her? Or does she know something you’ve done?”

  Morgan didn’t answer. And she didn’t look away from Scath. The sound of wings got louder. In the distance, I heard the croak of a raven.

  “Am I missing out on the fun?”

  Raphael’s voice didn’t have the same smooth, silky tone of Flint’s. It wasn’t seductive or alluring. Instead, Raphael’s tone made my heart skip a beat, gave me a sudden rush. As if I were standing in the open doorway of a plane about to leap out, with nothing but silk and string to save me from a violent death.

  The leannan sidhe strode into the room with the swagger of someone who most definitely had a weapon somewhere on his person. He looked exactly as I remembered him. Tall and lean, but with enough muscle in his upper body that I knew his plum dress shirt had been tailored to fit him. His long dark hair faded to blond four inches from the ends. His grey eyes brightened when he looked at me, and I wondered if he was wearing kohl, or if his lashes were really that thick.

  “Mother Renard, we meet again. How are you enjoying life with your master?”

  I forced myself to smile. “Flint’s been enjoying an extended vacation in Europe, and I find his absence most satisfying, thank you.” His change in demeanor nagged at me, and I tilted my head. “Are we to be friends, then? This is quite a change, given how the last time we met you seemed sure I deserved to be punished.”

  Raphael shrugged. “I’m thinking along very different lines now. Perhaps my initial anger was…misdirected.” His eyes glittered with flecks of silver as he stepped closer, almost but not quite invading my personal space. He smelle
d of leather and metal and mead. Bottled Valhalla. “Flint is a fool. If I had purchased you, I would not have left you.” He took another step, leaned closer until I could feel his breath on my face. “And you would not have let me if I tried.”

  My heart gave a sudden, painful beat, thundering against the wall of my chest so hard it took my breath away. Adrenaline scalded my veins. I didn’t know if Raphael was flexing his power over me, or if his advance was merely the last straw on the pile of stress that had been building since I’d found out about Andy’s arrest.

  It didn’t help that I had Liam on the other side, his energy boiling the air around me and letting me know exactly what his thoughts were on Raphael’s comments. I clenched my teeth and backed away from both of them, fighting to clear my head.

  “Raphael,” Morgan warned. “Mother Renard is Marilyn’s guest.”

  “I’m offering her no harm,” Raphael murmured. “Quite the opposite.”

  Liam rolled his shoulders, tendons cracking and popping. Raphael’s eyes darted to the werewolf. I didn’t like the considering look he gave the alpha.

  “As it happens, I’d be only too happy to part with your company. After you answer a few questions.”

  “Questions? About what?”

  “Morgan tells me you’re comfortable with firearms,” I said. “Do you own a gun?”

  Raphael arched an eyebrow. “I own a lot of guns. As well as a variety of other weapons. There’s a reason so many call my house Valhalla.”

  “Lots of dead people?” Peasblossom muttered.

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Raphael, you are so cliché, it hurts. It really does.”

  The skin between Raphael’s brows creased, his amusement fading away. I cut him off before he could retort.

  “Where were you when Deacon was shot?” I asked.

  “What time was he shot?”

  I didn’t know the time for sure, because I hadn’t talked to Kylie yet. But Siobhan had asked me where I was last night after I left Something Fishy, so that seemed like a safe bet. I started to say around one a.m., then reconsidered. It would be just like a sidhe to use something as simple as a too-specific time to lie. “Where were you between midnight and when they discovered the body?”