"It's lovely to see you again, Riley." Her voice was as warm as her smile. "But I'm gathering this is not a social call?"
"Unfortunately, no." I hesitated. "How's little Risa doing?"
Her smile broke free, stunning in its richness. "She is beautiful, and will be pleased to see you again. Come in."
Last time I'd seen her, Risa had been barely seven months old, and certainly not up to talking. Yet, like her mom, there'd been a tremendous amount of power in her violet eyes. And even at seven months, she'd seemed to hold far more awareness of the world and her surrounds than any normal child.
But then, I guess she wasn't a normal child. She was the daughter of a clone and who knew what father. I'd seen Risa's birth certificate, but the man listed as her father didn't actually exist. It was yet another puzzle I was determined to resolve—for my own curiosity, if nothing more.
I stepped over the threshold and into Dia's huge hallway. A massive chandelier sprayed rainbows across the soft golden walls and carpets, and highlighted the various toys scattered about the place—though none of them, I noted with interest, rested in the middle of the hall, but rather hugged the sides. Either someone had been cautiously tidying up after the daughter so the mom didn't trip, or the child took an unusual amount of care when playing. I was betting on the latter.
A vase of sunflowers sat on a. redwood table, lending some spring cheeriness to the hall, and the staircase that spiraled upward was again scattered with toys. I went through the first of the two doors that led off the hall, noting with a smile that the bright, modernistic painting that had once dominated wall-space above the marble fireplace had been replaced by a gorgeous picture of Dia and her daughter.
I sat on one of the large sofas and was just about to ask where Risa was when she came bolting around the corner on a plastic train, white pigtails flying as she made choo-choo noises.
She gave me a grin and a wave as she flew on by and disappeared out the doorway, barely avoiding her mom's legs.
"My God, she's grown," I said, as Dia chuckled softly and stared down the hallway after her fast-disappearing child.
"She decided to skip the whole walking stage at eight months, and got straight into running. I don't believe she's stopped running—or talking—since."
"That must be hard when you can't see."
She shrugged and moved across the room with calm assurance. "I have good hearing, I have my other senses, and I have employed someone to cook and look after the house. We cope. Of course, once outside, I still have the help of the Fravardin."
Who were the guardian spirits her clone brother, Misha—the man who had been my mate for a while—had met and enlisted when he'd been in the Middle East. They might have failed at protecting Misha in the end, but they had died trying. And even after his death, those who had remained had honored his wishes and kept protecting Dia. He'd once said that he would use them to protect me, but I had a feeling he'd never had the chance to put that into action. Certainly I'd been in deadly situations since then, and no invisible entity had popped along to offer assistance.
And mostly, I was glad about that, despite having a few extra scars I didn't really need.
"So what can I do for you?" Dia continued.
I crossed my arms on my knees and said, "I was wondering if you'd heard any rumors about a nightclub called Mirror Image."
She wrinkled her nose. "I have several clients who attend. I do not like the vibe I get from it."
"What do you mean?"
Risa scooted past on the train again, this time making siren noises.
Dia smiled. "She's destined to work with cars when she's older. If it has wheels and it's fast, she loves it."
I raised my eyebrows. "So she's not psychic like you?"
"Oh, she is. I'm just not sure what direction her talent will take, as it is still developing. But it's there and it's strong. More so than mine." She shrugged, then added, "From what I have seen—or felt—from the clients who have gone there, the club is a good place to be. But I have always sensed something predatory behind it."
"Most werewolf clubs have that feel. The hunt is on for sex."
She nodded. "But this is different."
"In what way?"
She hesitated. "It has something to do with the owners. They are predators."
"They?"
"There are two of them, and they are what the club is."
"Which makes a whole lot of sense," I muttered.
She smiled. "What I see through my visions is not always definable. You know that."
I blew out a breath, then said, "Have you heard any recent news reports?"
She studied me for a minute, blind eyes unfocused and yet curiously aware all the same. "You're hunting whoever is tearing apart those poor women, aren't you?"
"Yes." Unfortunately. "But nothing is making sense. We found both killers dead for no apparent reason, and neither should have been capable of tearing someone apart like they did."
"Sometimes humans can do extraordinary things."
And sometimes something else is involved. "At least one of the victims was unfaithful. I know anger can often give a little extra strength but this goes beyond that. And what I really can't understand is why these men would go to such extremes. I mean, why destroy their own lives as well as their partner's? That doesn't make sense."
"Jealousy often doesn't. And it can be a very destructive emotion."
Yeah, but the cause of these murders was more than that. I was sure of it. "It just doesn't feel right."
And if anyone would understand that statement, then it would be Dia.
She continued to study me for several seconds, then said, "If you want me to help, I need to touch you."
My heart accelerated. I knew it was fear of the unknown more than fear of her. Which was odd, really, considering some of the truly depraved men I'd brought down over the last year. "Why?"
She smiled. "We both know you are afraid of what I might or might not see of your future, which is why you are so reluctant to even shake my hand in greeting. But if you want my help on these cases, I need to see what you have seen. And to do that, I must first touch you."
And here I was thinking I'd been so clever about concealing my apprehension about her powers.
She held out a hand, palm up. With some reluctance, I placed my fingers in hers.
"If you see more shit in my future, I do not want to know about it. I've been through enough this last year."
Her expression was serious as her blind gaze swept my face. Sometimes it was hard to remember this woman could not see. "I cannot always control the direction of my gifts. If you do not wish to hear where they lead, then it is best we not do this. I will not censure what I see. I never have."
Which is probably why she'd become as renowned as she was. Good or bad, she told it all—and honesty was rare in her field.
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Let's just do this, then."
She smiled. "It may not be all bad, Riley."
"Which is not saying that it'll all be good."
"No. It rarely is."
She closed her eyes and her fingers clenched around mine. Electricity washed across my skin—a warm tingle of energy that made the hairs on my arms stand on end and my pulse race. Not in excitement or in fear, but from some emotion that resided between the two. The wolf inside had her teeth bared, ready to fight. But this was a force I'd invited in, and I couldn't back away from that now.
So I held myself still as the tingly sensation washed up my arm and swept across my body, until it felt like I was wrapped in a blanket of energy.
Dia shuddered. "I see the deaths. I see the agony of their souls."
I didn't say anything. After all, what was there to say? Not only had I seen it, I'd felt it, and that was not a place I wanted to revisit, even in memory.