Текст книги "Sins of the Demon"

Автор книги: Diana Rowland

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Jill let out a peal of laughter. “Oh, good lord, you’ve been spending way too much time with that demon bodyguard of yours.”

I grinned. “Careful. I’m sure she’s around here somehow. She probably heard that.”

“How does this killer know that all these people fucked with your life?” she asked, sobering.

I rubbed my eyes. “Dunno. Damn near everyone knows about my history with Thomas, and I guess it wouldn’t be too hard to find out about my dad’s death. But Barry Landrieu? Only a few people know about that.”

Jill opened her mouth to speak then closed it as Pellini approached.

“Betcha it’s a drug overdose,” he said as he did his best to hoist his pants a little higher under his gut. “Fucking loser. What the fuck did you ever see in that dickhead, Gillian?”

Spreading my hands, I said, “Dude. I plead temporary insanity.” I knew the answer, though. I was lonely and desperate, and Thomas acted like he understood the lifestyle of a cop. After all, he’d been a fireman. Of course, later I found out that he’d been fired for a laundry list of infractions—everything from insubordination to violations of safety protocols that put his coworkers at risk.

Pellini huffed out a breath under his mustache. “He was a fucking whiny bitch, too. I was booking a prisoner into the jail same time he got brought in, and he was crying like a little kid who’d lost his puppy. What a dumbfuck.”

“You won’t get any argument from me,” I said.

He waddled off. Jill watched him go, then shot her attention back to me. “The jail,” she said. “These people all went through the jail here.”

I blinked. “That’s right.” I thought furiously for a moment. “And…my name would be in the records, in the victim impact statements.”

“Which means that whoever the summoner is, he or she has access to the arrest reports!”

“But it’s been long enough that those are public record now,” I pointed out, wincing. “That could be anybody.”

Jill frowned. “True. But what are the odds that whoever’s doing this saw you listed as a victim somewhere and then decided to see if there were any other instances? Isn’t it more likely that someone interested in finding people you didn’t care for would check to see if you’re listed as victim on any police reports?”

I considered her theory. It made sense. More sense than the theories I already had, which were nonexistent. “It’s possible,” I admitted, “but that’s still an insanely large pool. Not just law enforcement, but anyone who works in records, the DA’s office, the public defender’s office.…”

“Okay, okay!” She held her hands up in surrender. “But we can rule out David the barista, right?” she said with a laugh.

I tapped my chin. “Fine. We can eliminate David the barista as a suspect. For now! But if he turns out to be our summoner, then I’ll never let you live it down.”

“Deal!”

My phone buzzed with a text message from Tessa.

.…portal just below surface. Pls put wards back after they scrape turd off the lawn.

“Damn,” I muttered, stomach sinking. I glanced over at Jill. “Portal at the Nature Center. There goes my last hope that all of this was one big happy coincidence.”

She winced. “And still no clue what these portals are for?”

“Nothing solid.”

“So what now?”

“First, I’ll restore my aunt’s wards,” I said. “But after that…Well, three people are dead, I’m the most likely suspect, and I have no idea what direction to go next.” I flashed her a tight smile. “Therefore, I’m going to go home and go to bed.”

She gave my arm a light punch, smiled. “For once, you have your priorities in order.”

Chapter 13

I made my way down the broad corridor, the stone floor smooth and cold against my bare feet. Light filtered through tall, broad windows covered with grime. A few were broken, and through the gaps I could see clear blue sky and distant mountain peaks. Along the walls hung tapestries that had probably once been vibrant and colorful, filled with dynamic scenes. Now most were in tatters, and those few that remained were too faded and stained to make out more than the occasional figure. A man in armor. A woman reaching for a flower. A reyzaperched on a stone. Lanterns hung between the tapestries, heavy iron things with wells at the bottom that had probably held oil at one time. But now they were cold and dark, smeared with soot.

The hem of my dress brushed the stone with a soft susurration, and I slowed, not wanting to make even that much noise, even though there was no one nearby. I knew that. No one in the entire structure.

Frowning, I looked down at what I was wearing. A dark blue gown, intricately embroidered in silver thread with a pattern that I had trouble focusing on. Some sort of ivy perhaps. Or birds. Or birds in ivy.

I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. I could feel the rush of air through my lungs, taste the dust of the place, feel the warmth of my expelled breath on my lips.

But I knew without a doubt that I was dreaming.

I’d been here before in dreams—once, no, twice on the roof with Rhyzkahl, and other times somewhere nearby—though they’d never been as vivid, as real as this. I didn’t know what exactly this place was—a keep, or fortress…something like that, nor did I have any idea where it was.

Only this time I’m completely aware that I’m dreaming. That’s a first.

Maybe I’d been thinking of Rhyzkahl as I fell asleep? Had I unwittingly called him to my dreams? Considering the various revelations of the day, it would be understandable. Yet if that was the case, where was the demonic lord?

I put my hand out to the wall. I am dreaming…right?Frowning, I lightly scraped my knuckles against the stone—not enough to draw blood, but enough to scratch the skin and send a light twinge of pain through my hand. Fear tightened my chest. Maybe I’ve been summoned…?But surely I’d be aware of that. It’s just a dream, I fought to reassure myself. I’d been in other sendings from the demonic lord that were indistinguishable from reality.

But why is this all so screamingly familiar?

The silence seemed to press down on me, but I wasn’t quite brave enough to shout, Hello, or anything like that. Even though I felt a deep certainty that I was the only living creature in this keep, and that I wasn’t really here, I’d seen enough horror movies to know that I could be quite wrong about both.

The corridor ended abruptly, opening into a vast hall lit only by dust-filled spears of sunlight coming from windows high on the walls. Surprised, I stood in the entrance to the corridor and took in the sight. Heavy tables and benches of dark wood filled the center of the hall. A higher table, that could easily seat forty, ran along a wall opposite an archway. Two chairs at the center of the table were intricately carved with scroll work and patterns I couldn’t quite make out, though both bore harsh slashes that revealed the lighter wood beneath the varnish—deep gouges that had to have been made by an ax or a seriously heavy sword. I tasted mildew in the air, and a pungent scent of rodent droppings made my nose twitch.

I’ve been here.Through the archway on the right were the kitchens, and the entrance to the left led to a corridor that would take me to the great doors of the keep. And the stairs in front of me.…I balled my hands into fists as memory surged through me—this hall filled with people and scurrying servants. Laughter and song. Meat and wine. Fighting and blood.

Then it was gone, leaving only the echoes of shrieks and raucous calls skittering through my mind.

I breathed in shallow pants, turning slowly. If this was a dream, it had to be one sent by Rhyzkahl, since he had a link to my dreams. In which case he was…what? Wanting me to find something? Figure something out?

Screw horror movies. “Rhyzkahl?” I called out. Goosebumps skimmed over my skin as the walls took my call and flung it around in scattered echoes. Gulping, I held my breath, waiting for the demonic lord to make an appearance.

Nothing. He wanted me to figure this out. Or I was completely wrong about this sending being from him. Either way, I had no idea what I was supposed to do or how to wake myself up.

Fine. I had some sort of inexplicable shadow memory of this place. Time to use it. Turning, I made my way back up the corridor at a jog. I stumbled once on the stupid skirts I was wearing, and I grabbed them with both hands, feeling absurdly like Cinderella running down the stairs at the stroke of midnight—if Cinderella had been in a weird abandoned castle-thing, sent here by a demonic lord with an agenda.

Snarling, I ran up a broad flight of stone stairs—or rather I ran about halfway up, then had to slow down and catch my breath. Great, even in my dreams I needed to be in better shape. But I don’t have far to go. I think.

The stairs took me to another hallway. No windows here. Shadows swam along the floor and walls, but at the end of the hallway were a set of double doors, where whispers of light seeped from the cracks. I broke into a jog again, seized the handles and pulled. The doors were giant, heavy things of metal and black wood. They opened grudgingly, but once I had them moving they swung open wide.

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

I thought at first that the room was round, then I realized it had about twenty sides—facets of polished grey stone that should have reflected my image back at me but didn’t. Every other wall held a lit lantern, which made the room seem unusually bright after the gloom of the hallway. But I took that in almost as an afterthought.

It was a summoning chamber. There was no doubt about it. A diagram similar to the one I used had been precisely etched into the darker grey stone of the floor, though it was easily twice as large as mine, and it had certain differences that I couldn’t quite make out. But the most remarkable thing about the room was the sculpture in the middle of the diagram—or rather what remained of it. On a broad circular base nearly three feet across was a statue carved out of a black stone with flecks within of something that sparkled. Like obsidian crossed with granite. I assumed it was a woman—though it was difficult to be certain, since it stopped at the waist. Long skirts swirled around her bare feet, and a hand clutched the fabric, broken off above the elbow.

The upper portion of the torso lay smashed and scattered about the room, no remaining piece bigger than my thumb. I let out a soft moan of grief for the loss of such incredible work. I bent to examine the intricacy of the sculpture that remained. I’d always been impressed by the statues from the Renaissance and the realism of the draped fabric in marble, but this totally kicked Michelangelo’s ass. I peered at the design on her skirts. It was an intricate, twining pattern…

I heard a scrape of noise from behind me, and I whirled. I caught a fleeting image of someone standing in the doorway right before something hard struck me in the chest—

* * *

I jerked awake, hands flying to my breastbone as I gasped in a ragged breath, absolutely certain I’d feel a crossbow bolt or a dagger sticking out. Nothing there except for a phantom tingling. I rubbed the heel of my palm against my chest and sat up, gulping for breath in the welcome crush of relief. Just a dream. I wasn’t summoned in my sleep.

It was still dark outside, but the alarm clock on my nightstand showed that it was a few minutes before five a.m. Didn’t matter. I knew I wouldn’t be doing any more sleeping.

The house ticked with silence as I padded to the kitchen to make coffee. Maybe I should head into the office. Or the gym. Anything to distract myself right now. I was trying hard to go to the gym at least once a week. More often it ended up being every other week—just frequently enough for me to be sore all over again from working out. I needed to do somethingto keep myself from thinking about the dream and everything else that had been revealed to me. I’d wanted answers, and I was possibly getting them, but in horrible vague ways that only made things more confusing. What the fuck did any of it mean?

I actually got as far as pulling my gym bag out of the hall closet when the front door opened. I spun, holding the gym bag in front of me like a shield. Eilahn stepped in, then gave me and the bag an amused look.

“Are you planning to defend yourself with sweaty clothing?” she asked, closing the door behind her.

I lowered the bag, abruptly realizing that I hadforgotten to take my yucky gym clothes out of the bag after the last time I’d worked out. Which had been about two weeks ago. Okay, might be safest just to throw the whole bag out at this point. “I thought you were still asleep,” I said.

The demon suddenly grinned. “I have been busy. I have a surprise for you!” She darted forward and seized my hand, tugged me toward the living room. “Close your eyes!” she commanded.

“Um. Seriously?” I asked, eyeing her dubiously.

She stopped and frowned. “Yes. You must close your eyes. I am quite certain that this is how surprises are revealed.”

Smiling weakly, I complied. The demon continued to lead me forward.

“Now, open them!”

I did so. And stared. “Wow.” I didn’t know what else to say.

The demon was practically vibrating in excitement. “Is it the correct sort of tree?” she asked. “Are the decorations appropriate? I perused many magazines and websites in an effort to determine what would be the best look for this space.”

“Eilahn. It’s…perfect!” And it was. She’d acquired a tree—the most symmetrical and perfect blue spruce I’d ever seen—and decorated it with white and blue lights, tiny gold stars, sparkly balls of dark blue and red, and silver ribbons. Pine garlands made graceful swoops along the wall near the ceiling, with delicate paper snowflakes hanging from them. Dark red ribbon had been painstakingly tucked around the door in exquisite swirls, topping the door with a perfect bow. On the desk, she’d placed ceramic figurines of angels, and red, green, and gold candles of every shape and size filled the mantel, gracefully accenting the pictures already there.

And in the corner by the fireplace, stood a brand new Kitty Kondo, with Fuzzykins perched on it as if to say, “Yes, I did all this.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “I can’t believe you did all this in one night!”

Her grin was ecstatic. “And there’s more!” She took me by the hand, then stopped, fished the cuff out of my bag by the door, and snapped it around my wrist. “Close your eyes again!”

Laughing, I obeyed and allowed myself to be led outside and down the steps. About a dozen steps away from the house she turned me around and announced, “Now, open your eyes!”

It took everything I had to keep from bursting out laughing as I took in what she’d done to my house and the immediate surroundings. Where the inside decorations had been lovely, tasteful, and utterly beautiful, the outside was…well, I had a feeling my house could now be seen from orbit. The roof was barely visible beneath the carpet of lights, “icicles” of more lights streamed down the sides of the house, and a gigantic Santa—complete with waving arm—filled the porch. Surrounding the house were blow-up snowmen, enough reindeer to pull ten sleighs, giant candy canes, and several neon-green trees that flashed in chaotic patterns.

Eilahn looked at me expectantly. “It’s the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen,” I said, completely truthfully. “I love it,” I said, and I even meant it. Sort of.

On impulse, I gave her a hug and was more than a little surprised when she hugged me right back.

“Now I need to ask you something of a more serious nature,” I said after we finished with the hugging stuff.

In an instant she was back to being the serious demon bodyguard. “Let us return inside. You are barefoot, and it is chilly.”

Demon bodyguard Mom. I hid a smile, returned inside, and continued on down the hallway to the kitchen. “It’s pretty obvious that whoever’s behind these murders is some sort of arcane practitioner,” I said as I poured myself a cup of coffee. “And considering that I was attacked by that graa—”

“Yes,” she interrupted. “I believe you were also dosed with something, though I do not believe it was exactly the same substance as the other victims.”

I turned around. “Um. Yeah, I had this whole long explanation that I was going to use to convince you that the whole thing was related, but I guess I don’t need to go into that now.”

“You do not. I also believe that the cuff has been muting the effects.”

“Right,” I said. “Because, as far as I can tell, I’ve gone batshit at least three times—I threw my coffee at Roman, I attempted to molest Ryan, and I went off on Rhyzkahl.” I grimaced. “And each time it’s been when I wasn’t wearing the cuff.”

“Yes. And I do not believe that any of these were specific, directed attacks—merely episodes brought on by the loss of inhibitions that this drug apparently causes.”

“In other words,” I said, “you don’t think I was drugged specifically to make me want to sleep with Ryan.”

Her mouth twitched. “I think that, with the cuff off, your normal iron self-control was lowered.”

I snorted softly and sat at the table. “The question now is, what the hell do we do about it?”

“We should go eat pancakes,” the demon said.

“Pancakes?”

She nodded firmly. “Everything is better with pancakes.”

“I’m not about to argue with you,” I said. “You making?”

“No,” she said with a smile. “You are buying.”

Chapter 14

Lake O’ Butter pancake house was fairly well populated at seven a.m. on a Tuesday morning, though fortunately there still seemed to be a few available tables. Probably another hour before they really hit a rush, I figured. The welcoming scents of butter and coffee hugged us as we walked in, along with the clatter of plates and the clipped commands of the short order cook. Formica tables looked like they’d been salvaged from a fire sale, the vinyl chairs had more cracks than an old woman’s heels, and the silverware was usually battered and bent, but the pancakes were fluffily sinful, the cooks used real butter, and the blueberry syrup was made from a patch in the owner’s back yard. For breakfast it was nothing short of luscious. Lunch or dinner was another matter entirely. I’d only made the mistake of ordering a tuna salad sandwich here once.

A waitress grabbed menus, and gave us a thin-smiled order to follow her. I started to comply, then paused at the sight of Roman at a table in the corner. He had his back to me and papers spread out on the table in front of him. Guilt shuddered through me at my behavior the other day. “Eilahn, give me a minute, okay?”

She followed my gaze, gave a slow nod. “I will order coffee for you,” she said.

She knew me too well.

Taking a deep breath, I walked to his table. “Hi, Roman.”

He lifted his head, gave me an uncertain and cautious look. He looked tired and had a faint dusting of stubble on his chin. “Er, hi, Kara.”

“I’m sorry,” I said in a rush. “I don’t know why the hell I did that to you yesterday.”

Giving a self-conscious laugh, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe because I deserved it?” He gestured toward the seat opposite him. I slid onto it, relieved, then shifted as a wayward crack of vinyl poked my backside.

“No, you really didn’t,” I said as I found a more comfortable spot. “People ask for that sort of thing all the time. And, to be honest, we do it all the time. Not fixing it, but it’s not that tough to get tickets reduced, depending on your driving record. That sort of thing.”

“It’s all right,” he said, meeting my eyes. Some of the fatigue seemed to have cleared from his expression. “I can afford it, and I wasspeeding.”

“Okay, but still,” I said, “last time I checked, the standard punishment for speeding didn’t include getting scalded with hot coffee.”

He cast his eyes upward, and pretended to consider. “Well, maybe when you factor in court costs….” He chuckled and dropped his eyes back to me. “Seriously, though, apology accepted.”

“Thanks.” I skimmed my eyes over the papers in front of him without being too obviously intrusive. There was a stack of what looked like account statements, and some letters that looked like they were from law firms. “What’s all this? One of your investments?”

“Something like that,” he replied. “I’m part owner of an industrial park on the northeast side of town, and I’m trying to see if anything can be done with it that’ll allow us to turn a profit.” His eyes shadowed. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m not with ESPN anymore.”

I winced. “No, I hadn’t heard. Um, was this your decision?”

His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I was asked to ‘voluntarily’ resign earlier this spring. Personality conflicts.” A scowl briefly crossed his face before being wiped away by a sardonic smile. “So now I’m looking for other opportunities for a beat-up ex-football player.”

“You’ll land on your feet,” I assured him.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he said, smile turning warm. “But yeah, I’ll be all right. I have money put away, and I’ve made some good investments that will keep me comfortable for a long time.”

“Sounds like something I need to start doing,” I said with a grin. “I need me some lifetime security.”

He chuckled. “I’d be more than happy to set you up with my financial advisor.”

Snorting, I shook my head. “Dude, I appreciate the thought, but right now I think I have an extra seventy-three dollars in my checking account that I could spare.”

“All the more reason to talk to a professional,” he said with a knowing tilt of his head.

“You have a point,” I conceded. “Are you still leaving town tomorrow?”

He wrinkled his nose in annoyance. “One of the shareholders is dragging his feet on signing some paperwork. I’ll probably be here another week.” He glanced at his watch and winced. “Speaking of, I’m about to be late for a meeting about that project.” He began gathering his papers up, but paused to give me another smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing so well, Kara.”

“You too, Roman,” I replied.

He slid his papers into a briefcase and stood, then leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek before turning and walking on out. Mouth pursed in thought, I watched him go. He’d changed a lot in the years since we’d briefly dated. Silly of me to expect him to be the same person. I sure as hell wasn’t.

I stood, made my way over to the table that Eilahn had staked out, dropped into a seat.

“All is well with your former paramour?” she asked.

I picked up the menu. “Seems to be.” The waitress came over to fill my coffee cup. I gave her a grateful smile, then proceeded to add sugar and creamer. I waited until the waitress walked off, then looked back up at the demon.

She opened her mouth to speak, then paused and turned to look at the door. I followed her gaze to see Zack and Jill enter the restaurant. Zack hadn’t changed in the weeks since I’d seen him. A bit less tan perhaps, but his hair was still as pale-blond as if he spent every day on a surfboard. Which, supposedly, he did during the warmer months, though now that I knew that he was a demon I had to wonder how much of that was true and how much was simply cover story.

The pair headed straight for our table without a second’s hesitation, and I gave Eilahn a narrow-eyed glare. “You called the others?”

“I did,” she answered serenely as she quickly inscribed the anti-eavesdropping sigil on the table. “You have many tribulations at the moment and require the assistance of those you call friend. And I knew you would not ask them for that assistance.”

I frowned. She was right. It seemed more than a little selfish to call people up and say, “Hey, I have a problem, can you drop everything and help me?” But that’s what friends DO, moron, I chided myself. I was still getting used to the whole dynamic, obviously.

“Hiya, chick,” Jill said. Her tone was bright, but her expression was fierce.

“Hiya, yourself,” I said. “I hear my roommate’s been tattling on me.”

Jill gave a shrug and a grin. “Nah, she just said you were buying breakfast.”

“Sure. What the hell,” I said with a laugh. “At least it’s pancakes and not steaks. Is Ryan coming as well?”

“Right behind us,” Zack said with a jerk of his head toward the door. True to his word, the man in question entered as if on cue.

Ryan paused as soon as he entered and did a scan of the interior. I could see him mentally cataloguing the occupants and exits—possibly not even aware he was doing so. Maybe that was why it was so hard for me to wrap my head around the “he’s a demonic lord” idea. Other than a couple of rare breaks in the façade, he was every inch the federal agent. And his personal history was insanely complete as well. Could I be wrong?

No, I knew what I’d seen. And Eilahn had definitely shouted the name “Szerain.” I also knew, logically, that I should be as wary of him as I was of Rhyzkahl. Maybe it was easier to trust him because he never—well, almost never—acted like a demonic lord? Dear Santa, I thought, what I want for Christmas is for all this crap to make sense.

Ryan headed to our table and slid into the empty chair beside me, positioning himself so that he still had a good view of the room and the entrance. “Morning,” he said, almost as an afterthought.

“We should order,” Eilahn instructed. “And then Kara can fill you all in.”

Ryan gave me a questioning look. “Is it the usual? Life in danger, world ending, nasty magic creatures running around unchecked?”

Laughing, I nodded. “That about covers it!”

Breakfast was duly ordered and much coffee consumed, then I filled them in on everything I knew—the deaths, my connection to the victims, the portals, the graaattack, the cuff and what it was for, and the suspicion that I’d been drugged.

A silence fell after I finished.

“Goddamn, I’m glad we ate first,” Zack finally said. A laugh swept the table, nicely breaking the tension.

Jill leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands. “You suspect that the victims were given something that gave ’em temporary magic? Or whatever the fuck it is you do,” she added with a wink at me.

Grimacing, I rubbed my temples. “I think their sensitivity is being increased, and somehow they’re drawn to the resonance these portals have.”

“And then when they actually find one it overloads their brains?” she asked.

“That’s the working hypothesis,” I said. “As far as I know, none of those people had any sort of arcane skill, or if so, only a trickle.”

“Is there a drug that can do that?” Ryan asked. To my surprise he looked over to Eilahn for an answer.

The demon pursed her lips, frowning. “I have heard of such—compounds that can open the channels used for manipulating and detecting power flows.”

Zack tensed, and alarm flashed quickly across his face. He quickly schooled his features, but his eyes flicked toward Ryan then away. I had the impression he had something to say but didn’t dare.

Ryan doesn’t know Zack is a demon, I reminded myself. If Zack revealed knowledge of that world it would give him away.In other words, I needed to find a way to get him to spill what he knew. Not an easy task since Zack was oathbound against talking about much demon stuff.

“Use of these compounds is generally proscribed,” Eilahn continued, “due to the unpredictable and dangerous side effects.”

“Would stuff like that show up on a tox screen?” Jill asked.

“Doubtful,” Eilahn said, forehead puckering. “Most of the ingredients used can only be found in the demon realm.”

“Yeah, Doc’s in a tizzy,” I said. “He can’t figure out what’s causing these strokes.”

“Poor guy.” Jill grimaced. “It’s not like you can clue him in that it’s something out of this world.”

“No kidding!” I said. “He already thinks I’m weird enough.”

“Is Kara in danger of having a stroke?” Ryan asked Eilahn, face dark and serious.

“It is my suspicion that Kara is being affected by a different substance than the others,” Eilahn stated. “She already has extensive arcane skills.”

I noticed that Eilahn didn’t answer Ryan’s question. “Well, that’s cheery,” I said. “But if the others were used to find portals, that means I was tagged to find something as well. Plus,” I lifted my arm and shoved my sleeve back, “I’m only experiencing side effects when I’m not wearing this thing.”

Jill leaned forward to snag the maple syrup. “And you think this graaattacked these other victims as well? Wouldn’t they have freaked the hell out?”

“Demons are fast,” Eilahn answered. “All it had to do was scratch them. It’s quite possible they never saw it, especially if it was dark.”

“Hang on.” I yanked my phone out of my bag, then thumbed in a text to my aunt. Can you pls ask Carl if stroke vics had any weird scratches on bodies?

“Let’s make sure there’s really a connection before we get too confused,” I explained to the others. “If the graais the common vector, then we know our main focus is finding the summoner who called it.” A few seconds later my phone dinged. Yes.

Frowning, I texted a reply: is that yes they had scratches or yes you can ask him?

I scowled at the phone as I waited.

yes to both. Vics had deep scratches. I’ll have Carl let me into morgue so I can check if from demon.

I related the exchange to the others.

“Your aunt rocks,” Jill said. “She’s weird and scary, but she rocks.” She tilted her head. “Kinda like you.”

“Thanks,” I said drily.

Jill grinned then tapped the table. “But I don’t understand something. Why would someone set Kara up to make her look like a possible killer and then also drug or poison her?”

I sat back. “Right. That doesn’t make sense to me either.”

“Someone who wants to fuck with her,” Ryan said. “Get her off balance. Maybe someone with an ax to grind.”

Jill let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, god, if we have to track down everyone Kara has ever pissed off, we’re screwed.”

“Bitch,” I said and stuck my tongue out at her for good measure.

“You know it!” she said, eyes sparkling with humor.

“I have to say, though, it really is the perfect setup.” I grimaced. “Drug me with something that makes me do irrational shit, right when people around me start dying.”

Eilahn pursed her lips. “And it would have appeared far worse if not for the fact that most of your ‘irrational shit’ has been controlled by the cuff.”