Conviction

by Jennifer Blackstream

  “It seems to me there were a lot of areas where Siobhan fell somewhat short of professional expectations,” I said, gently steering the conversation back to the case. “Mickey V certainly seemed to think she wasn’t the best person for the job. In all honesty, I’m surprised Anton Winters was so willing to bankroll this place with her in charge.”

  I name-dropped the vampire not just because he was relevant, but also because I wanted to see Julia’s reaction.

  The vampiress slid her gaze to meet mine. “You speak of Anton as if you know him.”

  There was no emotion in her stare, but there was something about the lack of emotion that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. I had the sinking feeling that I’d walked into a verbal trap.

  “We’ve met.” I didn’t take a step back right away, didn’t want to look like I was retreating. But I did call my magic, holding it ready in my palms. Just in case.

  To my surprise Julia changed the subject. “Deacon told me about Raichel’s murder. A human shot her. The same FBI agent they’re accusing of shooting Deacon. You don’t conduct yourself like a member of the Vanguard. How did you come to be working on this investigation?”

  “I’m a private detective, but I’ve worked with the Vanguard before.”

  “And were they the ones who invited you to investigate this case?” she pressed. “Or is there something more personal at stake for you?”

  I refocused my stare on the space between her eyes, avoided looking into them directly.

  “Mother Renard, I don’t intend to force answers from you. It is my belief that unlike men, women do not require such heavy-handed tactics. I’m asking you for information. Just. Asking. And I believe that you understand how important this matter is to me. And because of that, I have faith that you won’t withhold information just for the sake of hoarding it—like some people I could mention.”

  She was referring to Anton Winters. My suspicion that she was leading the conversation increased.

  She stepped away from me, allowing me more space. “I’ve laid my heart out for you, Mother Renard. I have more to tell you, but I need to know what this is about for you. I need to know how invested you are in finding out the truth.”

  I still didn’t look her in the eye. But she sounded sincere. And when all was said and done, there was little harm in telling her why I’d taken on this case.

  “The man charged with murdering Raichel isn’t just an occasional investigative partner, he’s my friend,” I said finally. “But I believe he’s innocent. Deacon was a witness, but I think Siobhan may have been controlling his testimony.”

  It was the best I could do to answer her question without coming out and accusing Deacon of the murder.

  As it turned out, Julia could read between the lines.

  “You think Deacon killed her.”

  I curled my hands into fists, concentrating on the feel of magic against my palms. “I don’t know. Right now, I’m still gathering information, trying to learn more about the witnesses and the victim. Both victims. It’s why I came to speak with you.”

  Julia’s eyes didn’t leave mine, despite my rigid dedication to staring at her forehead. “Tell me your theory.”

  There was no compulsion to her voice that I could feel. Peasblossom hugged my neck, her heartbeat a frantic pulse against my skin. I took a slow, deep breath. “Raichel was glamoured to look like Siobhan that night. Agent Andrew Bradford was at the bar, and he’d garnered quite a reputation for himself among the kelpies after he killed Siobhan’s brother Bradan during an attempted kidnapping.”

  Julia nodded at my use of the word kidnapping. I guessed she was familiar with the story, and the disputed contract the kelpies had held with Grayson at the time.

  “I think Deacon saw Andy run out of the bar with his gun drawn. When Andy didn’t shoot right away, he could have grabbed his own gun, got out of the car, and shot her.”

  “While your friend stood there and watched?”

  “My friend blacked out. Something he’d done before at the bar when his…emotions were high.”

  Julia considered that. “It seems like quite a risk. But then, Deacon could be very opportunistic. He has an artist’s passion.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Julia, did Deacon have any experience with firearms? Do you think he could have shot her?”

  “I think Deacon could learn any skill he felt was worth his time to have,” Julia said firmly. “Once he set his mind to something, he usually achieved it.” A small smile ghosted over her lips, as if at a pleasant memory.

  “If he’d killed Siobhan, would he have returned to you?” I asked. “Did her ownership end with her death?”

  “It did.” She smiled wide enough to flash a hint of her fangs. “It’s a small detail that I insist be present in all my contracts. They end at death for either party. Deacon became mine again as soon as the life left his body.”

  “So you think my hypothesis is possible,” I clarified.

  “I don’t have access to all the information about what happened that night,” Julia said regretfully. “I know only what has made it through the gossip mill.” Her expression soured. “And I have not spoken to Deacon since Siobhan took him from me. She forbid it. So I can’t speak to what Deacon may have been planning, or whether he’d made any…preparations in anticipation of finding an opportunity to free himself.” She paused, tilting her head. “However, with your help, I could speak to him tonight…”

  “You’re a necromancer?” Peasblossom squeaked. “I didn’t think—”

  “I am not a necromancer, brave one,” Julia corrected her. “But Deacon was mine for a very long time before I lost him to that wretched woman. Or relationship wasn’t just sex and blood. We were bonded. He was mine, in every way. Our bond was not so strong that his death hurt me physically, but the connection is there. I can still feel him, however faintly.” She looked toward the door. “The bond will break with next sunrise. But for now, it remains.”

  I realized I was still holding my breath after the gasp I’d taken when Julia mentioned talking to Deacon. I forced myself to exhale, forced my shoulders to relax as I summoned a witchy look to hide the storm of emotion raging through me. “As much as I would like to hear the truth from Deacon’s mouth, you’ll understand why I’d be nervous that he’d be as likely to lie to save himself again. As he may have done before, to avoid Siobhan’s wrath.”

  Julia shook her head. “If Deacon killed Raichel, then his death is payment for that crime. Especially if a kelpie was involved in his murder. Guilty or not, Deacon would be free to return home with me. I would have no reason to make him lie, and he would never lie if I asked him for the truth.”

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “You can really raise him?”

  Julia’s eyes brightened. “It would take but a few drops of my blood, a small ceremony. In a matter of hours, you could look into Deacon’s eyes, and get all the answers you need.”

  This was it. This was the break I needed. Unlike Mickey, Deacon had witnessed both murders, and had nothing to lose. And with his contract to Siobhan broken, she couldn’t make him lie. I could find out the truth.

  I had to swallow twice before I could speak. “Then we’ll make that happen.”

  Julia brushed her hands down her skirts as if preparing to enter a business meeting. “There is one minor complication.”

  Warning bells went off in my brain. Her tone was too casual. Too deliberately light. I narrowed my eyes. “Complication?”

  Julia trailed one short fingernail over the gilded edge of the frame holding Deacon’s portrait.

  “As I told you before, I’m not a necromancer. The only reason I would be able to raise Deacon is because a vampire has some control over those to whom they are bonded. Normally, one cannot turn a dead person into a vampire, but my bond with him makes that possible. I could strengthen that bond between us, shift it to the bond between a vampire and his sire…”

  I blinked.
“You want to raise him as a vampire.”

  “Yes. The process was already begun for all intents and purposes, it’s merely a matter of finishing it.” Julia cleared her throat. “However, because this is not my city, if I am to do such a thing, I will need permission.”

  Ice settled at the base of my spine. I knew who Julia was talking about. And suddenly parts of our conversation made a lot more sense.

  “I need you to negotiate permission for me, Mother Renard. With Anton Winters.”

  Chapter 18

  I flexed my fingers to stop my hands from curling into fists. If I made a fist, I might use it. She’d walked me right into this. Led me by my nose. And I’d fallen for it. “That’s why you asked about my relationship with Anton Winters. You need me to ask him for you.”

  Still fingering Deacon’s portrait, Julia turned to face me, her blue skirt wafting around her ankles. “I meant what I said, Mother Renard. I care for Deacon. I want him back. And I want to know who killed him. None of that has changed.”

  “But there’s more, isn’t there?” Peasblossom spoke up from her position on my shoulder. “You’re still holding back.”

  “There is one more thing,” she said lightly. “I am powerful in my own right, but the ritual required to raise Deacon is not easy. I may need a little…boost.”

  I took an involuntary step back. “You want to drink my blood?”

  She chuckled as if she’d anticipated my reaction. “No, Mother Renard. I don’t need your blood. I was speaking of something much less sanguine. Just a little help from your…master.”

  The warning bells in my head turned into warning air horns, deafening in their urgency. I took another step away from Julia, not because I was afraid of her, but because I was afraid if I stood too close, I might give in to the sudden urge to shake her.

  “You knew all about me before I ever showed up here. You knew about Flint and what he could do. That he owns me. You knew I was trying to save Andy’s life, and I needed to solve Deacon’s murder to do it. You knew I’d worked for Anton Winters.”

  I shook my head. “You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?” I laughed, a short, helpless sound, gesturing around the room. “You’ve sat here as if this were your own doctor’s waiting room—and you brought a book!” I flung a hand at the text on the table. “Thought you’d get a little work done while you waited for the witch?”

  “I always have a book,” Julia said. “I strive for personal improvement in all the spare moments of my afterlife. As do all the people I invite to join my circle.” She lifted her chin. “And, yes, I knew who you were. What you wanted. And none of that changes anything.”

  “Of course it does!” I pressed my boot against the floor, resisting the urge to stomp my foot. “How do I know this wasn’t your plan all along? Maybe Deacon killed Siobhan, framed Andy, and arranged his own murder, knowing I’d take the case, knowing I’d come here, and knowing that in the end, he’d be raised as a vampire—free of Siobhan—and you’d have everything you wanted!”

  “I won’t waste my breath arguing with you,” Julia said, exasperation seeping into her tone. “None of that matters. The facts remain the same. Your friend is accused of two murders. You need Deacon’s unfettered testimony. And to get that, you need me. Because I promise you, Mother Renard, I am the only one who can raise him as a vampire. You might find a necromancer to raise him as a zombie, but we both know what happens when you raise a murder victim. Death is traumatic enough, but murder? Well, what is left of the mind after something like that isn’t pretty. Unless you want to risk the possibility that you would raise him and he would immediately seek out and kill his murderer?”

  I picked a point on her forehead and stared hard at it. “You would have been better off being up front with me. We could have come to this conclusion much faster.”

  I pivoted on my heel and marched out, refusing to look back. “Let’s get this over with.”

  I hoped my abrupt agreement with the terms surprised her, but I doubted it. Stupid witch. Foolish witch. Dr. Julia Ouellet, indeed. She’s a vampiress. Her kind plotted farther ahead than sidhe. They were infamous for it. The patience of the dead. And I’d never seen it coming.

  I found Flint draped on a chair in the room just inside the glass door, surrounded by the four women who’d been in there when I first arrived. He was holding a cup of tea, chatting with a very tall brunette about the case pending before the Vanguard about whether leaving a cursed item to someone in your will constituted assault. He looked up when I approached, and read my expression with his customary ease.

  “We’re leaving now,” I said shortly. “We need to see Anton Winters.”

  The woman beside him got to her feet, raising her brows at Julia as she came to stand beside me.

  “Yes, I’m going to ask him to let her raise Deacon.” I fisted my hands at my sides as I faced the leannan sidhe. “She needs your help.”

  Flint smiled easily enough as he looked at Dr. Ouellet. “If I might have a quick moment with Mother Renard?”

  “Of course.” Julia gestured to the southwest corner of the room. “I have a boat outside waiting to return us to the mainland. If you’d join us when you’re fin—”

  “We have a ride,” I cut in. My warm feelings for Julia had cooled significantly, and I saw no reason to pretend otherwise. It wouldn’t fool her anyway.

  Julia inclined her head. “Then I will meet you at the marina.”

  I watched her leave the ship, trailing her ladies in waiting like ducklings. Scath prowled after them, watching them through the glass as they paraded down the walkway toward the water.

  “So… What happened?” Flint stepped in front of me, blocking my view.

  I didn’t look at him at first. I was impatient, and this was a conversation we could have just as easily on the boat. “I’ll tell you when—”

  His hands closed on my arms, tightening until I looked up at his face. “What. Happened?”

  “Julia offered to raise Deacon as a vampire so he can tell the truth about both murders. To do that, she’ll need Anton’s permission as the master of this city to raise a vampire. And since Deacon died, in order for her bond to him to be strong enough to actually raise him, she’ll need a boost from you.”

  Flint dug his fingers harder into my arms, not enough to bruise, but close. “She planned this.”

  “Looks like it.”

  “And you walked right into it.”

  “I wouldn’t have done anything differently if I knew.”

  He dropped his hands, stared at me as he took a step back. “Is there anything you won’t risk to save him? Anything you won’t give up, any line you won’t cross?”

  “I don’t have time for this.” I tried to take a step past him.

  Flint’s hand swung up, seized my arm, and this time he dragged me to him until our faces were inches apart. His hazel eyes shone with the light of his power, his irises transformed into bands of brown and gold.

  “Answer the question. Is there anything you wouldn’t do?”

  I lifted my chin. “Nothing comes to mind.”

  My answer didn’t seem to surprise him. I hadn’t expected it to.

  “Do you know how easy it is to manipulate someone in your position?” he asked intently. “You may as well paint a giant target on your back. Stand under a sign that says ‘Will do anything for information that may lead to Andrew Bradford’s release.’ You’ve given me another month of control. And now you’ve agreed to intercede for another vampire to Anton Winters.”

  Nothing he said wasn’t true. And he was right, I’d very likely regret some of these choices later. But for now, all I could think about was Siobhan laughing as she dragged Andy under the water. The horrors that waited for him if the kelpies won. “Let. Go.”

  “Did you know that how powerful a vampire is when it’s raised depends largely on how powerful the sire is?” Flint released my arm, but he didn’t move back. “How powerful she is at the time? If I inspire Jul
ia and make her strong enough to do this, then Deacon will rise more powerful than your average vamp. Which will in turn, increase Julia’s power—permanently.”

  “Can we finish this conversation on the way to the ship?” I prodded. “I don’t know how long it will take to flag down Michaleen. And I assume you approve of my decision to turn down Julia’s offer of a ride on her boat?”

  Flint gaped at me, then swiveled to Peasblossom. “Talk some sense into your witch.” He glanced down at Scath. “You call yourself her protector. You must see what she can’t. Tell her.”

  “I’m not going to stand here talking about vampire politics. Every minute we waste here is another minute someone, somewhere could be plotting to make this entire investigation more difficult.”

  Flint grabbed me yet again. This time when I faced him, he stared at me with the calm facade of a sidhe at court. “If you get permission from Winters, I will help. But when this case is over, there will be a change. You’re too reckless when it comes to Agent Bradford. And if you can’t control yourself, then I will.”

  I was too angry to be entirely sensible. And I was so very tired of people threatening me, and of hearing variations of this same speech from him.

  “Do what you will, Master. But remember, extra month or not, our contract will end. I like who I am now. And if you try to force me to change, I will consider that a threat to me and everything I am. And if you think I’m reckless in my pursuit to save my friends, imagine what I’ll be willing to do to save myself.”

  He released me and I threw myself forward, out the door, and down the walkway to where I’d arranged to call for Michaleen.

  Turning Tides wasn’t as crowded as a mundane racetrack. Without hoards of humans crowding the place, it looked more like a fundraiser than anything else. Wealthy Otherworlders strode around, talking about the race, pointing to the courtyard platform that had been moved to the center of the main ships, connected to each one by a separate gangplank. I could make out some of the horses standing there, waiting for the next race, and I couldn’t help searching for Siobhan in the crowd.