Deceit Can Be Deadly

  “Fine.”

  “And Sven?” He nodded towards her arm where her tattoo was.

  “As fine as a dead man can be.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Cyrus, is there a purpose to this conversation?”

  He ignored her question. “You appeared melancholy when I entered.”

  “Introspective. Melancholy implies sadness.”

  “And the great Gwyneth would never stoop to such an emotion.” He raised his glass to the light and then took a tentative sniff of its contents.

  “Mock all you want. You know it’s true.”

  He said nothing, merely studying her over the rim of his glass.

  She sighed. “I’m feeling restless. Matt is upstairs sleeping but I needed…something.” She shrugged.

  “So you turned to drink rather than waking him up to talk.”

  “Talking to Matt might give him ideas.”

  “Ideas?”

  “That we’re more involved than we are. Right now he knows the limits. I don’t want to muddy the waters.” She nodded towards the bottle on the table. “Cognac has no misconceptions about its purpose in my life.”

  “Ah. I understand.”

  “But you didn’t come to talk about my solitary drinking, did you, Cyrus?” She set down her glass and leaned forward, hands folded on the table.

  “As delightful as the topic is, no.” He hitched his chair closer and spoke in a low tone. “Camille was wondering why you weren’t at her party.”

  “Why are you whispering? She can’t hear you.”

  “With Camille, you never know.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll take my chances. Now what’s this about the party?”

  “You didn’t return your invitation. She wasn’t happy.”

  “I’m a working woman. She knows that. I have to be at the club.”

  Cyrus shook his head. “She said you weren’t at the full moon celebration she convened either.”

  “I celebrated by myself. A solitary bathing in the moon’s rays is much more energizing than a gossip-ridden gathering.” She made no mention of the strange vision she’d had that night, of a mysterious man appearing out of the mist, his eyes filled with longing. Unlike most visions, it hadn’t made her ill, had in fact left her aching with need. Definitely not the kind of information she wanted to share with Cyrus.

  “Your absence was mentioned several times.”

  She jerked her attention back to her conversation with Cyrus. “Just because Camille’s the head of the Universal Coven doesn’t mean I have to bow to her every wish.”

  “She’s easier to deal with if you stay on her good side.”

  “True.” Gwyn knew Cyrus was right. Camille was demanding and self-centred, quick to take offence and slow to forgive. She was also ancient and powerful enough that most tiptoed around her. More than once the two of them had had a war of words over some policy.

  “But you aren’t going out of your way to keep her happy.”

  “In a word, no.”

  Cyrus cocked his head. “I’m not sure if you’re brave or foolish.”

  “Neither am I, but I tired of her petty ways years ago.”

  “Will you try to take over the Coven?”

  She laughed at the absurdity of his statement. “I have no desire for power.”

  “You’re considered in line for the position.”

  “But you’re ahead of me, I’m sure. If Camille steps down, or needs to be removed, I’ll leave it up to you.”

  “Not me. I’m an old man. Plus, I enjoy amusing myself with my magic shows. I don’t have time for political dealings with the likes of the Fae Queen or the bureaucracy of Lycan Link”

  “Lycans.” She curled her lip at the very thought.

  “Still bitter, I see.”

  Gwyn gave him a pointed stare.

  “You really need to get over it. So a Lycan broke your heart. It was ages ago. And if it hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t have enacted the life-over-love spell. You’d be long dead and forgotten. He actually did you a favour.”

  There was some truth to Cyrus’ words but was life extended a fair trade for love? She’d always thought so, still did…most days.

  He pressed his point. “The spell you cast was a blessing. Only a few are fortunate enough to live for centuries. To see the world evolve, to experience the wonders of each age and enjoy every advance in technology. Who knows how much more there is to come? And we’ll be there for all of it.”

  “Most of it. You know that a blood spell doesn’t allow us to live for eternity. It merely slows down time, thereby extending our lives.”

  “A significant extension. And for those of you lucky enough to enact the spell when you were young, your life expectancy is unfathomable.” He sighed and shook his head in obvious mocking. “If only I’d been wiser when I was younger.”

  “Poor Cyrus.”

  He sniffed. “I detect a distinct lack of sincerity in your words.”

  “Perceptive of you.” She tipped her glass at him.

  They drank silently for a while each lost in their own thoughts. For her part, Gwyn considered the wisdom of Cyrus’ words. Yes, she would live longer than most who had used the blood spell but she’d also watched all her family and friends grow old and die. How many people had she lost to sickness and old age? How often had she been forced to move and start over again to avoid detection by normal humans? She’d never married, never had children. If she hadn’t chosen the path she did, would she have recovered from Tomas’s betrayal and eventually wed another? Experienced the kind of love that inspired poets and playwrights?

  With a start, she realized she was staring morosely into the bottom of her empty glass. Late night musings were a waste of time. She couldn’t change the past. Setting her glass down, she nudged Cyrus who had fallen into a doze.

  “Time to leave, Cyrus.”

  “What?” He blinked sleepily. “Er…I was just resting my eyes.”

  “And snoring.” She took his glass and placed it on a tray to take up to the kitchen for washing.

  “I do not snore. I’ve stayed awake many nights listening to myself.”

  She laughed at his joke and he reached out to pat her hand.

  “Take care, Gwyneth.”

  “I will, Cyrus.”

  “And take heed of my warning about Camille.” He rose to his feet. “She was quite offended by your absence.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “Perhaps. But I’d watch my back if I were you. There’s something about her of late.” He shook his head. “I could be wrong but I sense an instability in her.”

  “She can grumble all she wants. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  He nodded. “I know. But can you convince Camille of that?”

  Chapter 9

  “Have you made it inside yet?”

  “No.” Dante placed the phone on speaker so he could finish dressing. “I’m meeting the witch today.”

  “Meeting? What have you been doing with your time up to now?”

  “Laying the groundwork, Higgins. That’s how I operate.”

  “Groundwork? We need results. Apply some pressure.”

  “I’m dealing with a powerful witch not the Fae or another Lycan. I can’t go in and strong arm her into revealing what we want to know.”

  “Can’t or won’t? I think you’re stalling. Maybe you weren’t the right man for the job after all.”

  He paused in his search for a suitable shirt, the other man’s accusations touching a nerve. Higgins might think needling would get the job done but it was about to backfire.

  His voice grew cold. “If you don’t like the pace I’m working at, then you’re free to send someone else in.”

  The suggestion was met with silence as he knew it would be. No Lycan in their right mind would go up against the Universal Coven. It was a suicide mission and he was considered disposable. Lycan Link used him for his skills, but in the end, no one would mourn if he didn’t mak
e it out.

  Higgins cleared his throat and continued the conversation. “We want this resolved quickly.”

  “And I said I’d call you when I learn something.”

  “People are dying, Dante. Don’t forget that. We need to wrap this up before it makes headlines. The publicity would be very damaging.”

  “You don’t need to remind me.” He ended the call abruptly, his hands clenching into fists.

  People were dying. Those were the only words that had mattered in the entire conversation.

  That fact was carved into his heart and he’d never be able to forget.

  At first it had seemed random, a Lycan disappearing here and there. A few Fae. Tragic yet not unheard of in some areas of the world. Civil war, drug cartels, tourists failing to heed the warnings not to leave resort areas or wandering away from their group during guided tours of remote areas. There were any number of reasons a person might go missing. Sometimes the body was never found, at other times it was discovered horribly mutilated. The police blamed wild animals or gang activity while locals murmured of dark magic or mythical creatures of the night wreaking revenge.

  Yes, people died and most occurrences never even made the newswires. As a youth, he hadn’t paid much attention to the occasional news article, had certainly never given a second thought to safety when he’d decided to spend a mid-term break south of the border.

  A cocky Academy undergrad in his late teens, he’d started an affair with a local Lycan. The holiday fling had turned into something more and when he’d left, he’d promised to return and bring her home regardless of the fact her pack didn’t approve of him. But one month had turned into two and then three…

  “When are you returning, Dante?” Her soft tones had whispered down the phone line, alluringly exotic, sweet and warm. He lived for her calls. They weren’t supposed to contact each other but she called him on the sly whenever she could.

  “Soon. I promise. I’ll just finish the term at the Academy.”

  “Oh.” Her disappointment had been evident.

  “Once I’ve written my exams, I’ll fly down.” He’d closed his eyes, imagining her beautiful eyes, her luscious body. His own had hardened at the mental image and he deepened his voice. “I can’t wait to see you again. I won’t let you out of my bed for a whole week.”

  “I have something important to tell you.” Her voice had sounded odd and a hint of anxiety had stirred within him.

  “What?”

  “I…I have to tell you in person.”

  “Are you sure? I can be a good listener as well as a fantastic lover.”

  She’d managed a laugh but he’d known his humour hadn’t been enough to really lift her mood. He tried again. “I could sneak out for the weekend. Get a red-eye flight…”

  “No.” She’d sighed. “I’m being foolish. Finish your education.”

  “If I do well, it will help me get a decent job so I can support a mate.”

  “A mate? You mean…?”

  “Of course! You didn’t think—”

  “I…I wasn’t sure. I mean I hoped but—”

  “I love you, Carlotta. I want to take care of you. Give you everything you deserve.”

  “Oh Dante.” She’d begun to cry and he’d spent some time soothing her, whispering promises of what their future would be like.

  He’d fully intended to go to her as soon as possible but when summer classes offered a course he needed, she’d told him to stay at school. He never should have listened to her…

  ‘Just a few more weeks.’ That was how he’d ended their final conversation. Fuck. If he’d been there sooner, she might still be alive. But when he’d eventually gone back for her, the pack had disappeared. He’d searched for days, following leads, sifting through local rumours. Finally, he’d found them, but he hadn’t managed to save her.

  “I’m sorry, Carlotta.” He spoke the words in the empty room, the memory still able to cause an ache in his heart.

  At the time he’d been too young, too inexperienced to realize what he’d stumbled upon. He’d saved the child she’d borne, but his efforts at being a hero and saving the others had been abysmal. And afterwards, his attempts to investigate, to learn the truth, had been equally pathetic, muddying the evidence and stirring the ire and suspicions of the local residents. He’d learned enough though to set himself on a path of sorts.

  Since then, he’d spent years honing his skills, following leads, becoming part of the seamiest groups in order to learn their secrets in case they could lead him to Carlotta’s killer. Not every path he’d followed had been useful. The Purists, the anti-Fae; human traffickers, all evil in their own right but ultimately not responsible for Carlotta’s death. Eventually mounting evidence had coalesced into a pattern though. A pattern that pointed to the Universal Coven, the governing body of all witches.

  He hadn’t let Higgins know he already had a keen interest in the proposed assignment. The fact that his own personal vendetta coincided with Lycan Link’s wishes was a bonus. The money and information they’d given him were simply making the path he’d planned easier.

  Gwyneth O’Donohue was going to be his key to the Coven. He had no idea if she was implicated or merely a pawn. In the end, it didn’t matter. She was the vehicle that would allow him to avenge Carlotta’s death and potentially save hundreds of others from the same fate. If the malefic witch ever succeeded in gaining immortality, no one would be safe.

  A glance at his watch told him he had to leave soon if he was to get to Club Mystique by two o’clock. Her invitation had been a pleasant surprise. He’d thought it would take several more encounters to win her confidence.

  It could be a trap, his wolf reminded him.

  “Yes, it could.” He acknowledged. It had crossed his mind that she might be playing him.

  There is little we can do to defend ourselves against a powerful witch. The animal twitched its ears, not pleased with the situation. Speed and strength were useless in the face of magical spells.

  “Then we’ll use our wits, like we’ve always done.” He pocketed his wallet and took one last glance in the mirror. With any luck, he looked sufficiently charming to get past Gwyneth’s guard.

  A knock on the door signalled that Dante had arrived. Gwyneth stood behind the bar, arms folded. She made no move to answer his summons, instead merely arching her brow. An invisible stream of magical power caused the door to swing open with a flash of light. It was an ostentatious display; its purpose to remind Dante of what she was. Thus far, she’d been polite, her professional face firmly in place. Now, however, it was time for the Lycan to be put in his place.

  She watched as he stepped into the room. He looked at the door and then swept his gaze over the room, settling on her.

  “An invisible doorman. How quaint.”

  She didn’t reply, merely fixing him with a hard stare.

  “I sense you woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Tucking his hands in his pockets, he strolled across the room.

  “You have balls, I’ll give you that.”

  He laughed. “Yes, my balls as you so delicately call them are in the correct position.”

  “What do you want, Dante?”

  “Cognac? That was why you invited me, I believe.”

  She placed her hands flat on the bar and leaned forward. “I’m tired of the lies. You’ve purposely made contact with me. There’s no legitimate reason for a Lycan to do that.”

  He walked to where she stood, the width of the bar separating them. and casually leaned against it. “No reason? You’re an intriguing woman, Ms. O’Donohue. Couldn’t I simply be interested in you?”

  “Try again.”

  “You’re a hard case, Gwyneth.”

  “Damned right.”

  He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I can’t really say what my purpose is.”

  “Bull! Do you work for Lycan Link?”

  He shrugged.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Not an Enforcer though.??
?

  “Never.”

  “Nor a Disaster Control agent.”

  He laughed. “I think many would say I’m more likely to be the cause of one being called.”

  “A tracker?”

  “You’re hiding a rogue Lycan?”

  She tightened her lips. “You like to turn everything into a game, don’t you?”

  “Life’s too short to be serious all the time.”

  His tone was light but there was something about his eyes that caught her attention. A certain watchfulness as if he were studying her reaction to his words. What had he said? ‘Life’s too short’? It was a throwaway cliché but she sensed some double meaning. When she wasn’t matching wits with him, she’d have to consider the statement further.

  “I could force you to tell me; cast a truth-telling spell on you.”

  “And I could lodge a complaint with Lycan Link who would then contact the Magissa of the Universal Coven. I believe her name is Camille.”

  When she would have replied, he held up his hand.

  “And before you threaten to do me bodily harm, I’ll tell you that someone does know I’m here and is expecting me to report back to them tonight.”

  “You came here expecting trouble.”

  “I always expect trouble. It’s how I’ve managed to stay alive this long.”

  “Given how annoying you are, I’d say that’s wise of you.”

  “A compliment?”

  “Hardly.”

  He made a face. “I sense I’ll not be getting that taste of cognac.”

  “Not until I know what you’re up to.”

  “I’m a simple man, trying to make my way in the world. I do odd jobs here and there.”

  “Odd jobs?” She gave him a considering look. “Not legal ones, though.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “There’s an aura about you. It’s dark.”

  “You can read auras?”

  “Among other things.”

  A smile slowly appeared and he reached out to twirl a lock of her hair. “You would seem to be a multi-talented woman. I find that…intriguing.”