She had been acting so shocky earlier, he was glad to hear a hint of dark humor in her voice. No, he said. But I would like to know if there is a very large cut of something, a roast perhaps, or a leg of lamb. Even a turkey would do. Whatever it is can’t be frozen. If we do have anything, I need it in the library too.
I’ll check then go talk to the president.
Thank you. He paused for the briefest of moments. Everything is going to be okay, you know. Even if we can’t make this okay, we’re going to be fine.
Her voice warmed. I know we will. I love you.
I love you too, he told her.
He realized he didn’t tell her that enough. She never complained or appeared to take hurt from it, but still, he made a note to tell her more often. He tried to show her how he felt, but she deserved the words too.
Stepping into the library, he poured himself a scotch, took a seat, crossed his legs and waited.
Shortly, one of the kitchen staff walked in briskly, carrying a tray that held a large, irregularly shaped item wrapped in butcher’s paper. Following Dragos’s orders, he set the tray on a round Chippendale table and left.
Within a few minutes, he heard Pia and Johnson chatting as they came near. They walked into the library, with Bayne and the president’s guard following behind.
“You two,” Dragos said to Bayne and the president’s man. “Wait outside.”
The Secret Security guard looked to the president, who gave him a nod. Only then did he move with Bayne to step outside the room.
Dragos added in Bayne’s head telepathically, Cordon off the area of hall where the body is. And nobody comes in this room without my say-so. Do you hear? I mean come hell or high water, nobody comes in here, and I expect things will get very unpleasant out there soon.
I hear you, said Bayne, as he backed out of the room, closing the double doors to the hall. Nobody’s coming in, not even this nice, dedicated soldier standing with me right now, although I hope to gods I don’t have to shoot him. I’ll have George stand guard with us.
George was part of Bayne’s security detail, a massive, easygoing man who was also a rare Wyr elephant. As strong and stubborn as a troll, if George stood guard at the doors with Bayne, nobody would get in unless Dragos said they could.
Very good, Dragos said. Leisurely he stood. “Thank you for coming, Ben. Can I pour you a drink?”
The president laughed. “You’ve been very generous with the alcohol this evening, Dragos. I think I’d better pass on any more until we have some dinner.”
“About that dinner,” said Dragos.
As he spoke, he moved to the liquor tray, refreshed his drink and poured a second scotch for the president. With a quick glance at Pia, he raised his eyebrows at her in inquiry. She looked tense again, and very pale. Dark patches of feverish red touched her cheeks. Twisting her fingers together, she shook her head.
Johnson laughed again, only this time he sounded uneasier. He looked back and forth at Dragos and Pia. “Don’t tell me there’s been another kitchen accident.”
“No, there hasn’t.” Dragos turned to face the president, holding both drinks. “I’m going to ask you for one thing—only one, but it’s going to be hard for you for a little while.”
“What’s that?” President Johnson’s intelligent expression had turned closed and wary.
Walking over to him, Dragos held out a scotch. “We need to have a frank, tough conversation, you and I. And whatever you may think, or however you may react while we’re having it, I need for you to hear me out.”
Chapter Nine
Johnson searched his gaze then turned to study Pia’s anxious figure. His gaze fell to her twisted hands. “Okay,” he said simply, reaching out to accept the scotch. “I believe we can have a civilized discourse. Now, what’s this about?”
Here goes, Dragos thought. He met Pia’s gaze as he said, “In the last hour and a half, one of your humans murdered the vice president’s husband, and they tried to make it look like a Wyr did it.”
Johnson’s eyes narrowed, and his frame stiffened. “Murdered—Victor is dead?”
“Very dead,” Dragos told him bluntly. He swallowed scotch. “His body is in a hall closet. The killer used some kind of glove with either razor blades or knives attached to the end of the fingers and thumb. My staff is looking for the murder weapon now. The motion used was an inward, slashing one, as if the killer went to grab Colton’s throat one-handed, only instead of strangling him, he closed his fingers and yanked. The carotid arteries on both sides of Colton’s throat were cut. He bled out within ninety seconds, tops.”
Outside the library, someone called out. Dragos could hear the vice president’s voice in the distance, asking, Have you seen Victor?
Dragos tuned her out.
Johnson remained standing where he was, his tall, distinguished figure vibrating with reaction, expression blazing with shock and outrage. “Victor is dead, and you’re claiming that a human did it?!”
“It’s a fact, Ben,” Dragos said. “I can prove it.”
Turning, Dragos walked to the desk, set aside his scotch and began to unwrap the large piece of meat on the tray. When he had opened the package, he discovered it was a leg of lamb, nicely covered with a thin layer of white fat. Excellent. The fat would show every mark.
Pia moved to sit with a plop at one end of the sofa. Both she and Johnson watched Dragos, their expressions filled with fascination and repugnance.
“The killer was cunning,” Dragos told them. “He put a great deal of planning into the murder. He dodged security cameras and made a murder weapon that would simulate a Wyr’s capabilities. But he was stupid too. The murder weapon didn’t simulate a Wyr’s talons. Wyr handgrips are stronger than humans. Maybe he was concerned his human grip wouldn’t be able to strike a killing blow. If I were him, I would have wanted to make sure I could cut the carotid arteries, so I would have been focused on making sure my blades were very sharp. That’s what he did. Watch closely now—these are what my talons look like.”
As Johnson and Pia stared, he held out one hand and made the slight shift that brought out his talons. Splaying his fingers, he held them up for the others to see.
Johnson said, “I’ve never seen that in person.”
“Most people haven’t,” Dragos told him.
The president looked at Pia. “Do you have talons like that too?”
She shook her head with a smile that looked strained. “Only predator Wyr have talons like that. I’m an herbivore. I don’t have the nature or the personality for it.”
“You’re perfectly safe, Ben,” Dragos told the president. “You can step closer, if you like. Do you see how the talons are shaped?”
Fascination overtook Johnson’s shock and outrage, and he took a few steps toward Dragos. “They’re curved and angled to a point, from the fingertips to the tip.”
“Exactly. They’re extremely sharp, but they’re also natural. They’re made of a hard protein called keratin—which means they aren’t exactly uniform either, not like a manufactured blade is. Watch what happens when I make a wound like the ones that killed Colton.”
Striking quickly, Dragos grabbed hold of the leg of lamb. He had to pin the meat to the tray with one hand while he tightened his grip and pulled with the other. Flesh tore underneath his talons. Both Johnson and Pia flinched back, but when he was finished, they moved closer to stare at what lay on the tray.
Stepping away from the lamb to give them a little space, Dragos let his talons retract as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off his hands. It was getting noisy outside. Questions were being asked, along with demands.
Concentrating on his small task, he said, “This meat was refrigerated, so it’s a little stiff, but it will still show you want I want you to see. If you look closely at the marks I just made, you’ll see there is a bit of tear to them. The edges are jagged. It’s hard to kill someone like this. It’s messy. Likely as not, you’ll tear out chunks of flesh when you do
it.” He looked up and met Johnson’s sharp gaze. “Colton’s wounds are not like this, Ben. They’re surgical. The edges of the cuts are sharp. They were made with blades, not talons.”
“Why are you telling me this, now?” Johnson asked. His shock and fear had receded, and he studied Dragos with his arms crossed.
“Because this is the single piece of evidence I have that will be the most compelling for you,” Dragos told him. “The killer might have been cunning, but aside from being stupid, he was also bigoted and insulting. He believed the first thing anybody would think when they saw Colton would be that a Wyr had killed him. In my house, Ben. With my handpicked staff, my highly trained and reliable security. With my wife present. He believed that everybody would think the Wyr were that stupid. And he ignored the fact that none of us have any motive to commit this crime.”
Only then did Dragos let his rage show. Pia swallowed hard, and Johnson’s gaze flickered, but he didn’t flinch or back down like he had a few moments ago.
A knock sounded at the door, and a man called out, “Mr. President, are you all right? The first lady is asking after you.”
Johnson raised his voice. He sounded strong and steady. “Yes, Brock. We’re all safe in here. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
“Very good, sir.”
Johnson said to Dragos, “So the wounds are the most compelling piece of evidence, you said. What other evidence do you have?”
“Other than Colton’s blood and Pia’s scent—she was the one who found him, by the way—there were no other scents. The killer was wearing KO Odorless Odor Eliminator. Only deer hunters wear the scent blocker, or Wyr criminals—and of course now anybody who is involved in the Right to Privacy movement is wearing it too.” Dragos gave him a cynical smile. “But only the Wyr would know that or be able to make that claim, and nobody would be listening if we were the suspects. And the only people wearing KO Odorless Odor Eliminator here tonight are human. Your killer is one of the humans.”
Johnson drew in a sharp breath. “Do you have any idea who the killer might be?”
Dragos shook his head. “No, and I don’t care. At first I trapped myself into thinking I had to find the killer before Colton’s murder was discovered, but then I realized—this isn’t my problem. I’m insulted that the killer did this in my home, and I’m offended, but this is a human issue. And the fact that it happened during the one week when humans and the Elder Races were making an active effort to maintain good relations is disturbing. Aside from whatever the killer had against Colton, someone doesn’t want us to get along, Ben.”
“My God, what a bloody mess,” Johnson muttered. He rubbed his face and looked at Dragos over the tops of his fingers. “Okay, I believe you.”
Dragos relaxed slightly. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate that. My staff has been looking for the murder weapon, but they have instructions to take photos only and not to disturb anything if they find it. And security has been reviewing recordings of who disappeared from view from the cameras placed in the rooms during the time that the murder took place.”
“I need that list,” Johnson said. “Along with footage of the recordings to back it up.” His somber expression turned sour. “And I would appreciate a list of all the people who came here wearing that scent blocker. Up until now, I’ve ignored the Right to Privacy movement, as I thought it would blow over once we got things on a better footing, but not anymore.”
Johnson might have the luxury of ignoring it up until now, but Dragos, for one, wouldn’t be ignoring anything to do with the Right to Privacy movement. In fact, he planned on investigating it thoroughly and having extensive dossiers created on every prominent person involved.
“Of course,” Dragos told him. “You’ll get the full list of everyone I noted, so you can compare it with the shortlist compiled from the security footage. Your killer will be one of the humans on the shortlist. And naturally, we’ll open our home up to your people for a thorough investigation.”
“Thank you.” Johnson stepped forward and extended his hand. Dragos shook it. “And thank you for your calm and incisive thinking, and for your help as the authorities resolve this matter.”
“You’re welcome,” Dragos told him. When Johnson made as if to withdraw, he maintained his grip until the other man met his gaze. “It’s important to me that we remain allies, Ben, just as it is important to every other demesne leader here, which is why we’ve all come. But make no mistake—we’re not here because we’re apologetic. We’re here because we’re concerned about Elder Races violence, just as we’re also concerned about human abuses and violence—the hundreds of people killed in school and theater shootings, and the thousands killed in terrorist attacks. Violence against police, along with police bigotry and brutality, and the tragedy of what happened at Devil’s Gate. We’re willing to work together with you as partners to lessen these incidents, but none of us are willing to become scapegoats.”
The president’s expression tightened, but he gave Dragos a short nod. “Understood.”
As Dragos released the other man’s hand, for the first time in a long time, Pia spoke up telepathically. She said softly in his head, You’re sexy when you’re incisive and imperious.
The dragon in his head hadn’t receded and preened at the compliment from his mate. He gave her a sidelong smile as he told her, I didn’t know how the conversation was going to go or how difficult it might get. All I knew was that we needed to walk out of this room allies, but Johnson also needed to know—the Elder Races aren’t going to be his bitch, just because some humans decided to throw a hissy.
That’s my dragon politician I know and love so well, she crooned.
He laughed softly. They watched as Johnson squared his shoulders, strode for the double doors and threw them open.
A noisy crowd of guests had gathered outside in the hall. Tumultuous noise blasted into the room, as everyone tried to talk or shout at once. The president stepped forward and raised his voice to address them.
Pia rolled her eyes and said, I can’t even deal with all the drama llama.
As Dragos cocked an amused eyebrow at her, she collapsed in a dead faint.
* * *
Pia dreamed the dragon coiled around her in a white heat and raged at anybody else who tried to come close. All the protestors with their slogans and placards had to remain outside on the sidewalks.
You’re not helping any, she tried to tell him. We need to get the dinner on the table, or the soufflés will be ruined. We can serve Mr. Colton in the closet. There’s already a place setting on the desk.
But she was wrapped in thick cotton wool that made it impossible for her to move or say the words out loud.
Then the dragon picked her up and raced around with her, as they searched for her spinach soufflé so that she could eat it before it fell flat. I’m not hungry, she wanted to tell him, while in the kitchen, Gennita sniffled over the endive salad.
The Djinn Soren appeared in a swirl of Power, but he was a member of the Elder tribunal. He wasn’t one of the demesne leaders, and they didn’t have a place at the table for him.
“Bring Wyr doctors,” the white-faced dragon told him. “And Soren, I swear to all the gods, if you try to bargain with me right now, I’ll—”
“I will return as quickly as I can,” said the Djinn, his starlike gaze fixed on Pia. His physical form disappeared.
And then there was blood, so much blood. She cried and wrung her hands, because her shoes were ruined, and she didn’t have time to wash her feet.
That brought the dragon’s attention back to her. Somehow they had arrived in an unfamiliar bedroom. She couldn’t figure out whose house she was in. As she lay stretched out on the bed, he bent over her prone figure and placed a hot hand on her forehead.
“Hush, darling,” he murmured. “Don’t cry so. Everything will be all right.”
Suddenly the dragon vanished, and it was Dragos stroking her forehead, Dragos, who looked stark and on the edge o
f panic.
She didn’t think she had ever seen Dragos in a panic before. That frightened her more than anything she could have imagined. Don’t go, she said, trying to reach through the cotton wool to take his hand. Don’t leave me.
Strong fingers closed over hers. They were as hot as the hand stroking her hair. “What nonsense are you talking now?” he whispered gently. “I could never leave you. Pia, you’re hallucinating.”
Rousing, she finally managed to get verbal words out of her mouth. “I am not,” she told him in a strong voice. “There is too a dead man in our closet.”
Well, in somebody’s closet. She was pretty sure they weren’t at home. If only she could remember where they were, and why.
“Ssh,” he told her. “None of that matters right now.”
She huffed. Easy for him to say. He’s not the one who raced around like a crazy person all day trying to pull off the most important dinner party of his life.
Dr. Medina appeared in her line of sight, just behind Dragos’s shoulder. Okay, maybe she really was hallucinating, because she hadn’t even called the doctor back yet.
“Get out of my way, Dragos,” the doctor said.
He moved away quickly, and the doctor leaned over to smile at Pia. “Just relax, dear,” she said, showing Pia the glove she wore. The one with five blades on the end of the fingers and thumb. “You won’t feel a thing.”
As she opened her mouth, true darkness rose up to swallow her scream.
Chapter Ten
When she next opened her eyes, she found herself in their bedroom in D.C., tucked underneath the covers. She ached everywhere, like she had the flu or someone had beaten her in every major muscle group.
The room was still a mess, clothes strewn everywhere. The curtains were pulled, with no hint of sunlight along the edges, but the bedside lamp on Dragos’s side of the bed was on, throwing a circle of warm illumination into the room.
Dragos lay stretched out on his back beside her on top of the covers, fully clothed in black jeans and a black silk sweater. He had the fingers of one hand draped over his eyes, while he held her hand with the other.