"Do you mean that was some sort of seduction?"
I felt Doyle shrug, then his arms encircled me, hugging me to him. "For Taranis, anyone who isn't impressed with him is a thorn in his side. He must scratch at anyone who does not worship him. He must pluck at it, like a small piece of grit in the eye, always there, always hurting."
"Is this why Andais talks to him nude and covered in men?"
"Yes," Frost answered.
I looked up at him, still standing by the mirror. "Surely it's an insult to do such to another ruler?"
He shrugged. "They have been trying to seduce one another, or kill one another, for centuries."
"Killing or seduction — is there a third choice?"
"They have found their third choice," Doyle said against my ear. "An uneasy peace. I think Taranis seeks to control you — and through you, eventually the Unseelie Court."
"Why is he so pressing about Yule?" I asked.
"Once there were sacrifices at Yule," Kitto said softly. "To ensure the light would return, they slew the Holly King to make way for the rebirth of the Oak King, the rebirth of the light."
We all looked at one another. It was Frost who said, "Do you think the nobles at his court are finally getting suspicious of his lack of children?"
"I have not heard even the breath of that rumor," Doyle said. Which meant that he had his own spies in that court.
"It was always a king to be sacrificed for a king," Kitto said. "Never a queen."
"Perhaps Taranis wants to change custom," Doyle said, holding me close. "You will not be going to the Seelie Court before Yule. There is no reason good enough."
I sank back against his body, let the solid circle of his arms be my comfort. "I agree," I said softly. "Whatever Taranis is planning, I want no part of it."
"We are all agreed then," said Frost.
"Yes," Kitto said.
It was unanimous decision, but somehow not very comforting.
Chapter 38
We came out into the living room to find Detective Lucy Tate sitting in the pink wing chair, sipping tea, and looking less than happy.
Galen was sitting on the couch and trying to be charming, which he was actually pretty good at. Lucy was having none of it. Everything from the set of her shoulders to the way she crossed her long legs to the way her foot bobbed said she was angry, or nervous, or both.
"About damn time," she said, when I came out of the bedroom. She looked the three of us over, rather critically. "Aren't you a little overdressed for a little afternoon delight?"
I looked from Galen on the couch to Rhys and Nicca lounging about the room. Kitto went into his "dog house" without a word. I didn't see Sage, and wondered if he was outside on the growing force of potted flowers by the door. Galen had bought several in a bid to keep the little fey happy. It hadn't worked, but Sage did spend a lot of time lounging in the plants. The three visible men gave me very innocent faces. Too innocent.
"What have you been telling her?"
Rhys shrugged, then pushed away from the wall where he'd been leaning. "Telling her you were having sex with both Doyle and Frost was about the only way to keep her from storming the castle walls while you finished your little business meeting."
Lucy Tate stood up and shoved the cup of tea in Galen's direction. He grabbed it, barely in time. Her face had taken on a flush of unhealthy color. "Are you telling me that I've been out here for nearly an hour and they've been on a business call?" Her voice was dangerously low, each word very calm, very clear.
Galen got up and walked the dripping cup into the kitchen, one hand held underneath it to keep from leaving a trail of tea behind.
"Business call to the faerie courts," I said. "Trust me when I say that I'd rather you'd have walked in on a full-blown menage a trois than the call I just finished."
She seemed to see me clearly for the first time. "You look shaken."
I shrugged. "My family … gotta love 'em."
She looked at me a long time, almost a minute, as if she was making up her mind about something. Finally, she shook her head. "Rhys is right. Only the threat of seeing you in flagrante delicto would have kept me out here this long. But family business isn't police business, so screw it."
"Are you here on police business?" Doyle asked as he moved smoothly past me into the larger room.
"Yes," she said, and stepped around the couch to face him.
He kept moving into the dining area so it wasn't so confrontational, but Lucy wanted a confrontation. She stood with her arms crossed under her breasts, looking belligerent like she wanted to pick a fight with someone.
"What's wrong, Lucy?" I asked, moving into the room to sit down on the far edge of the couch. If she wanted to keep eye contact with me, she'd have to walk around the couch and face me. She did, settling uneasily into the pink chair again.
She leaned forward, hands clasped together, fingers entwined as she fought with herself.
I asked again, "What's wrong, Lucy?"
"There was another mass killing last night." Lucy usually gave good eye contact, but not today. Today her eyes roved over the apartment, restless, not looking at anything too long.
"Was it like the one we saw?" I asked.
She nodded, resting a momentary gaze on me, then turned away to look at the television, the line of herbs that Galen had growing in the window. "Exactly the same except for location."
Doyle came to kneel behind the couch, arms touching my shoulders lightly. I think he'd knelt so he wouldn't loom over us. "Jeremy has informed us that everyone at his agency has been forbidden from this case. Your Lieutenant Peterson doesn't seem too happy with us."
"I don't know what's gotten up Peterson's craw, and I'm sitting here trying to decide if I care. If I talk to you about this case, it could mean my job." She pushed to her feet and began to pace in the small space of the living room; picture window to pink chair, caught between the couch and the white painted wood of the entertainment center.
"All I've ever wanted was to be a cop." She shook her head, running fingers through her thick brunette hair. "But I'd rather lose my job than see another one of these scenes."
She sat down in the pink chair abruptly, and now she looked at me, those wide eyes, that earnest face. She'd made her decision. It was there in her face. "Have you been following the case in the papers or the news?"
"The news called the club incident a mysterious gas leak." Doyle rested his chin on my shoulder as he spoke. His deep voice vibrated down my skin, along my spine.
I had to fight to keep how it affected me from showing on my face. I don't think it showed.
"The second was one of those traveling clubs, raves, I believe, bad drugs."
She nodded. "A bad batch of ecstasy, yeah. At least, that's the story we leaked. We made sure the press had something to chase so they wouldn't put two and two together and start a citywide panic. But the rave was exactly like the first two scenes."
"First two?" I asked.
She nodded. "The very first scene probably wouldn't even have come up on anybody's radar if it hadn't been in a ritzy area of town. Just six adults that time, a small dinner party gone very bad. It'd still be floating around on someone's weird shit pile as unsolved. But the vies were high profile, so when the club got hit, it rang bells downtown, and suddenly we had a task force. We needed one, but we never would have gotten it this quickly if one of the first vies hadn't been friends with several mayors and a chief of police or two." She sounded bitter and tired.