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  Ari tossed restlessly for a long time, but when she finally fell into exhausted sleep, no unwelcome visitors invaded her dreams.

  * * *

  By 7:30 that morning, Ari was in her office waiting for Mrs. West. She’d called Eddie’s mother an hour earlier, foregoing her usual morning run to come into work early and already had the coffee pot on. She’d chosen her office rather than the PD because she still thought Mrs. West was an unlikely killer. If the woman provided a believable confession, Ari would take her straight to Ryan for a formal statement, but there was a good chance this was a mistake or a lie. It would be very much in character for Mrs. West to concoct some story in a misguided attempt to protect her son.

  Ari was pouring the first cup of coffee when Thelma West arrived.

  “Thank you for seeing me. I’ve been so worried ever since we talked. I now know I need to tell you everything.”

  “Why don’t you have a seat,” Ari said, handing her the coffee. “Tell me what you meant by Eddie was protecting you.” Ari studied her as the woman gathered her thoughts. Another dress, this time with a sweater. Sturdy pumps. Large straw handbag placed beside her chair. Carefully combed curls.

  Mrs. West set down her cup. “I told Eddie I was going to shoot Jules,” she announced, her voice flat. “I was angry about the bonding, and Eddie said it would somehow work out. As if it could! So I told him my plans. I wasn’t going to let that vampire…that vermin…ruin our family. Do you understand? Jules was stealing my daughter’s life. Worse than killing her.” Mrs. West’s look was defiant. “I practiced killing him in my head. Just like shooting rats at Granddaddy’s farm, and I’ve had plenty of practice at that.”

  Ari was speechless. She’d never expected such bitter hatred from this woman. The flat voice made the confession even more chilling.

  Mrs. West looked away for a moment, then brought her focus back to Ari. “I’d do anything to protect my children, and shooting him was the only way to save her. Eddie had every reason to believe I shot that…thing. I needed to save Lorraine from herself. She was bound to a godless creature, and she…she wanted Jules to make her one of them.” The woman shuddered at the thought. “I didn’t want my only daughter, my baby, to burn in hell.” Her voice caught on the last words, revealing the first sign of her underlying conflicts.

  “Tell me exactly what happened the night Jules died.” No matter what Ari thought of the things she was hearing, she wanted to keep her talking.

  Mrs. West regained her composure. Her voice was calm again, resigned, as if she was determined to face whatever was coming. “We’d had a family Fourth of July picnic, but Lorraine had left early to meet him. Eddie and I argued, like I told you before, and I ran out of the house with his father’s gun. Eddie knew I had it, because he searched the house. I found the open drawers when I got home. That’s why he confessed. He believes I killed Jules.” She lifted her chin. “I planned it. Bought the silver bullets. And I waited outside Lorraine’s house.” She hesitated, and her shoulders slumped. “But I kept thinking what it would do to her to witness that. God help me, I failed. I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t strong enough to face my daughter afterwards. So I walked down by the river and then went home.” Her jowls trembled, and she avoided looking at Ari. “Someone else saved my daughter,” she said, so quietly Ari barely heard her. Mrs. West covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

  What the hell? Ari stared at the older woman. Mrs. West had gone from an apparent confession to denial in seconds. Was this the truth or an attempt to get both herself and her son off the hook? The woman appeared more than capable of pulling the trigger, and Jules might have let her get close enough, but how would she get away without being seen? Unless Eddie and his mother were covering for each other. Hmm. It was worth considering, but by Mrs. West’s account, she was outside Lorraine’s home and never at the Woodland Inn.

  “Where’s the gun?”

  Mrs. West opened the straw handbag and took out a pistol, encased in a plastic zip bag. Ari took it, so Ryan and the police lab could do their thing. They had nothing to compare it to, no bullets, but the lab could at least tell if it had been fired recently.

  “I don’t see how this clears Eddie,” Ari said, as she placed the baggie in her drawer. “What makes you think he didn’t shoot Jules to keep you from committing murder?”

  Mrs. West’s face pinched in alarm. “No, no. Eddie was angry, but not filled with hate. Someone else did this. And I hope he or she gets away. I know it’s wrong, but I will bless that person every day of my life.”

  Ari ignored an urge to argue with her, and there wasn’t much else to say. Ari was used to bigotry, had heard a lot of anti-Otherworld comments her whole life, but never out of the mouth of a motherly, middle-class woman like Thelma West. Ari was glad it wasn’t her job to judge the love and hate that warred inside this woman. Mrs. West’s confession was ugly, but if it turned out to be accurate, the law wouldn’t be holding her accountable. It didn’t punish evil thoughts. Ari watched as Eddie’s mother left the Cultural Center, her back straight, her head held high. Human beings were a strange lot.

  Ari called Ryan and repeated the entire conversation. He wasn’t impressed and said it didn’t change anything. Since she’d expected that reaction, she wasn’t disappointed. Still, it was good news as far as she was concerned. She had a reason why Eddie would have lied. Now, all she needed was the right suspect.

  * * *

  That afternoon, Ari spent two hours waiting on customers at Basil & Sage, while Claris bought plants and supplies from a local nursery. Afterward they shared Claris’s homemade chicken soup, and Ari recounted her visit to Rosalina.

  Claris didn’t have much to say. “What do you think this all means?” she asked, not looking at Ari.

  “I’m not sure. She said the Goddess doesn’t make the decision, I do. But if the dreams are supposed to reveal my true feelings…” Ari grimaced, not liking where that train of thought led. “How could that be? A vampire for a soul mate?”

  Claris reached out and clutched Ari’s hand. “She didn’t say that, did she? As she pointed out, you have a duty to produce children. Even I know that vampires are sterile. So maybe none of this is set in stone.”

  “I have to believe that,” Ari said, so quietly her friend leaned forward to hear. “But the dreams are so real, so insistent. Sometimes I feel drawn to him.”

  “Maybe it’s a vampiric trick? Something Andreas is doing?”

  Ari lifted her head and met Claris’s worried gaze. “That would be preferable. Maybe I could do something about it.” Hearing the whine in her voice, Ari straightened, a wry quirk on her lips. “Listen to me. Can’t believe I’m talking like this. No matter what else happens, nobody gets to decide my fate, except me.”

  Claris heaved a sigh as Ari came out of her funk. “That’s one of the things I admire about you. The way you take matters in your own hands.”

  Ari laughed, genuinely amused. “Yeah, and we’ve seen how well that works sometimes. At least, I try.”

  Not long after that conversation, Ari headed out for her nightly rounds of the city. There were certain hot spots, like the park and the bars, that she always checked before going home. Along the way, maybe she’d plot a strategy for dealing with Andreas, or maybe she’d just enjoy the walk and not think at all. With luck she’d get home in time for a lazy, mindless evening in front of the TV. A few hours without worrying about vampires, or dreams, or murder.

  She had completed a sweep of the bar district and was on her way to the park, when her pager beeped. The text was garbled, so Ari called in.

  “Otherworld fatality, Goshen Park, north shelter,” Dispatch reported. “Meet Lt. Foster at the scene.”

  Chapter Six

  By cutting through the alleys, Ari arrived at the crime scene in under six minutes, but the press vans were already parked on the grass. News traveled fast and reporters even faster. Nothing was more than minutes away in Olde Town, especially Goshen Park, wh
ich provided a natural border between the older sections of Riverdale and the modern city with its suburbs.

  Except for the flashing lights from emergency vehicles, the scene was still mostly dark. The park was closed to the human public at this time of night; park lights were on automatic shut-off, and there were no street lamps nearby. Highlighted by the recurring flashes, officers strung crime scene tape, and techs worked by battery-powered lanterns to set up the floodlights. She headed for the shelter house, the center of all this activity.

  The floodlights came on, illumining the scene in a garish glow. Officers quickly finished with the yellow tape and switched their efforts to blocking the press and the growing number of spectators. Ryan was near the shelter; his blond head bent over a shadowed object on the ground. The victim, she assumed. A pudgy young man in his twenties sat on top of a picnic table inside the shelter, his head bowed into his hands, and a cop stood nearby. Another victim or suspect? Ari did a mental head slap. Everyone was a suspect at this point.

  She made her way to the table first. “What do we have here?”

  “Vampire death.” The cop recognized her and nodded to his charge. “Victim’s boyfriend. He found the body.”

  “His name?”

  The cop shrugged. “We haven’t been formally introduced,” he said with that dry humor only cops can pull off at a murder scene.

  “Excuse me,” she said to the boyfriend. “You’re acquainted with the victim?”

  He bobbed his head but didn’t look up. She noticed the blood on his shirt and hands.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Can you tell me your name?”

  “Carl. Carlton Austin.” His voice was muffled, but he finally raised his head. The normal lines of his square face were twisted by misery; his cheeks were wet with tears. Ari had seen the same devastated look on Lorraine. Were vampire relationships always this intense? It was clear to her Austin needed professional help, and she knew an agency qualified to provide it.

  She scanned the area for Ryan, but he’d disappeared from view, probably behind one of the vans. Ari shrugged and punched the keys on her cell. She wasn’t surprised when a live voice answered at Shale & Associates. Any agency working with the Otherworld community would have a regular night staff. Ari relayed the problem, and the female voice promised to take care of it.

  “Carl, someone is coming to be with you. We’ll talk a little later. You need to wait with this officer.”

  He nodded, looking lost.

  She searched for Ryan again. This time she spotted him with a group of CS techs and began to work her way in his direction. Trying to get a feel for the scene, she took note of trees and park equipment near the victim’s body. She extended her senses, seeking anything that might determine what had happened here.

  Ari suddenly stiffened. Pleasant shivers raced down her arms as her magic hummed in recognition of a familiar vampire power. What was Andreas doing here? She slowed her steps to a standstill, swallowing against the sudden dryness in her throat. Directly ahead of her, a tall, dark form glided smoothly toward Ryan. She wondered if she could still walk away, avoid the meeting. Maybe she could interview the crowd, get lost among the bystanders until he left. She’d almost convinced herself that might work, when Andreas’s head swiveled. He looked her straight in the eye and beckoned toward Ryan. Of course he’d known all along she was there. Ari sighed and raised her chin. Might as well get this over with. And keep it brief.

  Ari watched Ryan’s face as she and Andreas approached from converging directions. Expressionless. Ryan knew there had been a serious breach between Ari and Andreas. After all, he’d talked to Andreas the night it happened, but Ari had never discussed it with him beyond the obvious death of the werewolf. He knew about that, but not about the mind link. Some things were too personal. Too awkward.

  “Ari, you made good time,” Ryan said, his look speculative.

  “I was close by.”

  “Andreas,” he continued, “thought we might be hearing from you. But not this fast.”

  “Bad news travels quickly.”

  The rich warmth of Andreas’s voice nearly curled her toes. The sound of it always did strange things to her. Nice things. In spite of everything that went wrong between them, she missed his voice and the touch of his magic.

  “Arianna,” Andreas said to her.

  She nodded, not looking at him. “Hi.” It was feeble, but at least she spoke. She felt his eyes skim over her face, before turning to Ryan.

  “What can you tell me?” he asked.

  “Not much yet. Victim’s name is Patricia. That’s her boyfriend over there.” Ryan shrugged. “ME’s on his way.”

  “I want in on the investigation,” Andreas said abruptly. “Like last year. Full access. Two vampire murders in a week make this the business of the vampire court.”

  “Magic Council is already involved,” Ryan said neutrally, his gaze flicking to Ari. “As far as I know they still represent the vampires, and Ari’s their Guardian. I’m not saying your expertise wouldn’t be useful, but Ari has the final call on whether you’re in or out.”

  Oh, thanks, Ryan. Did he have to dump this on her? Maybe he wouldn’t have, if she had told him the whole story, warned him she and Andreas couldn’t work together again.

  “We don’t need your help,” Ari said bluntly. “This isn’t the same situation as last year’s case.” And she didn’t want to spend that much time around him. “I’ll make my reports to the Magic Council as usual, and your rep can keep Prince Daron informed.” She kept it formal, not looking at him. “Don’t you agree, Ryan?”

  “Oh, no, Ari. Officially on the fence. Not my decision.” Ryan shook his head to emphasize his words. “You two have to work this out. I have a crime scene to preserve.” He walked away.

  Coward. Ari wanted to hurl the word after him. Being alone with Andreas was the last thing she wanted.

  “Do you want us running our own investigation? Outside the confines and rules of the Council?” Andreas asked quietly. “Because that will happen.”

  She looked at him then, her irritation obvious. “You would do that?” She read the answer in his steady gaze. “Fine. Do as you please. Apparently you intend to anyway. So hang around if that’s what you want, just stay out of my way.”

  “Arianna,” he began.

  She was already striding toward the victim, forcing herself not to run. She had to get far away from his insidious attraction, that false sense of warmth and well-being his magic conveyed and the way her magic responded, as if sighting home after a long absence.

  Andreas’s gaze followed her, like hot needles on her skin. Then, the awareness lessened, as he’d turned away. Ari twitched her shoulders to relieve the tension. She wasn’t looking back. She didn’t care where he’d gone or what he was doing, as long as it didn’t involve her.

  Almost immediately, she felt something else. Something that made her edgy. She didn’t recognize it, but it seemed to rise from the victim’s body. She approached the rapidly decaying corpse but didn't see anything that should have caused her discomfort. Thinking she'd been thrown off balance by Andreas, she concentrated on what the scene could tell her. The victim was a female vampire, probably around thirty when bitten. Since Ari could no longer get a sense of her power, it wasn’t possible to estimate how long she’d been a vampire. She’d been part of the truly dead since someone put matching holes in her head and chest.

  Considering the decay process was still active, this was a recent kill. Ari stared at the wounds. Strange looking for gunshots, the edges too irregular. No evidence of bullets or casings on the ground. This looked like the same cause of death as Jules. Where was Riverdale’s ME? She wanted some answers this time.

  Her skin still prickled, her witch senses uneasy, reacting to some form of negative energy in the area. She glanced around, making sure Andreas wasn’t somehow responsible for the on-going tension, but he was busy on the far side of the scene. Besides, this magical energy was dark, much darker
than Andreas’s, even during the time she’d seen him shadowed with fury. She took a tentative sniff of the air. Something…she still couldn’t identify it. She glanced at Andreas again, this time wondering if he sensed the same disturbance. She wasn’t willing to ask him. The less contact between them, the better.

  She needed Gillian. She flipped open her phone and made the request. Maybe the ES reader would locate the source. She told Gillian to hurry.

  Ari made an effort to ignore the creepy feeling and crouched next to the victim. She noted each detail. Casual attire. Jeans, blue shirt, leather sandals. The straight black hair was long; loose strands crisscrossed the decayed remains of the victim’s face. Ari decided she’d had fine features. Slender nose, slightly slanted eyes. The position of the body indicated she’d been facing the picnic table at the time of the attack. That must have been where the killer waited.

  Dammit, that’s where Carl was sitting, contaminating possible evidence! Ari straightened to alert the cops, but Carl had already been moved and techs were examining the table. Ryan was a step ahead of her.

  Raised voices near the perimeter barriers drew her attention, and she saw Harold Shale in earnest conversation with one of Ryan’s cops. She wished it had been Sarah Young, but she’d take what she could get.

  “He’s with me!” Ari shouted. The cop waved and let him through. She met Shale halfway and escorted him to Carl’s location. “You two know each other?”

  “Yes, I know Carl,” Shale said.

  The other man sat, morose, non-responsive.

  “He’s been like that since I got here,” she said. “We’d like to talk with him as soon as possible, if you can settle him down. But you can’t ask him what happened. Keep it general.”