Wilkes couldn't have called a demon. None of his men had the power. Who could have done it? No one I'd met since I arrived had that kind of power and that kind of taint.
Before I could think of anything to say, Wilkes spoke first. "You've got a call. I think you should take it."
He was afraid I'd talk. Trouble was, I didn't have any proof of anything. Hell, I didn't even know what was going on. What was on this ordinary looking land that was worth killing over? Why did the trolls have to be gotten rid of? Was it just so the land could be sold? Or was there a darker purpose? Someone had called a demon to try to make it look like a troll kill. I knew why they'd done it, but not who. I even knew why it was Betty. She'd compromised herself, put herself at risk for that kind of ceremony.
Movies try to give us shit about needing virgins and purity for sacrifice, but true evil doesn't want to kill and send purity to heaven. True evil wants to corrupt good, and once the good are dead, they are beyond the devil's reach. But the impure, to sacrifice them, to kill them -- well, the devil gets his due.
Wilkes took my arm as if to help me.
"Don't touch me, Wilkes. Don't ever touch me again."
He let his hand fall. Henderson was watching us like he was seeing more than we were telling. Cops are good about that. Give them anything suspicious, and they'll put two and two together and make ten to twenty-five to life.
Wilkes looked at me. "Could it be werewolves?" His voice was quiet.
I couldn't keep the shock off my face. I fought to regain my nice, blank face, but it was enough. Wilkes knew what Richard was -- somehow he knew -- and he'd try to blame Betty's death on Richard. Werewolves were a good scapegoat, and a lot more fun to believe in than demons.
He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. He punched up a number. "She's right here." He handed the phone to me.
Henderson was watching us like we were entertaining. I took the phone. The voice on the other end was a man, and I didn't know him.
"I am Franklin Niley, Ms. Blake. I think it is time we meet face-to-face."
"I don't think so," I said.
"Wilkes told me that you have spoiled our little plan about blaming those pesky trolls for the death. But it is not too late to blame your lover. How many people will believe his innocence once they find out he is a werewolf?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.
I had to turn my back on Henderson's alert eyes. His attention was a little too intense. Wilkes wasn't watching me. He was watching Henderson. Unfortunately, turning around put me back to staring at the corpse. I turned to the side and stared off through the trees.
The voice on the phone was cultured, almost too well-mannered for comfort. "Come, Ms. Blake, let us not play games, the two of us. I know what Mr. Zeeman is, and once he's accused, a simple blood test in the jail will prove me right. He'd lose his job, his career, and perhaps be executed. You have hired an excellent attorney; my congratulations. But if he is convicted, then it is an automatic death sentence. Juries have a strong tendency to convict monsters."
"I'm listening."
"Meet me at the diner in town. A public place, so you'll feel safe."
"Why do you want to meet?" My voice was growing progressively lower, whispering.
"To beg you one last time to leave town, Ms. Blake. I have no wish to come against you. The spirits say that to come against you is death."
"Spirits?" I whispered.
"Meet me, Ms. Blake. You and Mr. Zeeman. Meet me, and I promise you it will all be over. You will leave town and all will be well."
"I don't trust you."
"Nor should you," Niley said. He laughed, deep and rich. "But meet me at the diner, Ms. Blake. I'll answer your questions. I'll tell you why I want the land. Once my people have made sure you're not wearing a wire, I'll answer any direct question you have. Surely that tempts you."
"You sound like a man who knows a lot about temptation, Mr. Niley."
He laughed again. "Money tempts many people, Ms. Blake, and I have a great deal of it."
I'd been walking slowly away from Henderson. "You going to offer me money?"
"No, Ms. Blake, that is what won a certain officer of the law to my camp -- and his men. I do not think money is the key to your soul."
I didn't like the way he said that. "What do you want, Niley?"
"To talk, that is all. I would swear to you or promise you your safety, but I do not think you would believe me."
"You got that right."
"Come to me, Ms. Blake. Let us talk. After I have answered your questions, then you can decide whether to leave or stay. Now, would you be so kind as to put the sheriff back on the phone?"
I turned back to the waiting men and held up the phone. "He wants to talk to you again."
Wilkes came for the phone. It was just the two of us by the body when he tried to take the phone. I held onto it. I leaned in close to him and said, "Money doesn't spend in hell, Wilkes. The devil deals in a different coin."
He jerked the phone from my hand and walked away into the trees, listening to the voice in his ear. The voice that had offered him money to sell out everything he was or might have been. The motive I understood least of all for murder or betrayal was greed. But damned if it wasn't a popular motive for both.
34
Richard hadn't said a word since we started the drive to the diner. He'd pulled the rubber band out of his hair and played with it, stretching it wide, letting it relax, open, close, open, close. He didn't usually have nervous habits. It wasn't a good sign. I pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine. Richard was sitting in the middle with his long legs drawn up. He'd wanted me to drive. Something about being more easily distracted this close to the full moon. Shang-Da sat on the other side, his face calm. Every time I looked at him, the horrible claw marks seemed to be smoothing out. By nightfall tomorrow, he'd be clean. It was impressive, and it would mark him in everyone's eyes who saw him as what he was: a shapeshifter.
We sat there a moment, listening to the engine tick. "You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?" I asked Richard.
The rubber band broke with a snap, jumping for the floorboard. "Whatever makes you think that?"
I touched his arm. He looked at me. His eyes were perfect chocolate brown, human, but there was something in the depths of those human eyes that was other. His beast crawled just behind those true, brown orbs.
"Can you sit through this without losing it?" I asked.
"I can."
"Will you?" I asked.
He gave me a tight smile, and I didn't like the look on his face. "If I let this much anger out in public with the moon overhead, I might shift. Don't worry, Anita. I know how to deal with my rage." He seemed very self-contained, as if he'd pulled back into himself, behind walls of careful construction. But behind those walls was a vibrating, menacing thing. If Niley's sorcerer were inside, he or she would recognize something was wrong. Of course, they knew what Richard was, so it was all right, I guess.
Shang-Da handed Richard a pair of black wraparound shades. He took them and slipped them on, running his hands through his hair, fluffing it around his shoulders. Another nervous gesture.
"I've never seen you wear sunglasses," I said.
"It's in case my eyes change," Richard said.
I glanced at Shang-Da and his naked eyes. "What about you?"