Cillian sat speechless, watching the people cross through the park. A preacher or madman perhaps was harassing passersby, calling them “harlots” and misquoting the Christian Bible.
If only he knew what dangers really lived in his city…
He wasn’t sure which side of the good-evil fence she belonged on—or which side her family was on—but there were nights when he wasn’t sure where he belonged, either.
“I’ll tell Nyx that you left. Get out of here, Mr. Owens, before you get trapped.” She turned and walked away. “Get out, and don’t look back.”
Eavan was midway across the park before Cillian could formulate a reply. He wasn’t sure what to think about the things she’d told him, but he was sure that Nyx—and possibly Eavan—had answers to help him stop Brennan. That’s what he’d been sent here to do. He’d expected to do so by ordinary means: the C.D.A. might track and eradicate Crypto Drugs, but he had no direct and open dealings with the world of the Others. The human world still functioned in ignorance. He was to continue to act as if he, too, was ignorant. Other C.D.A. members had a higher security clearance and were thus able to do otherwise.
Did they end up involved this way, too? Was it just a random case gone off the rails?
On a personal level, he wasn’t sure if he was flattered or horrified. He didn’t want to think long on that detail. He’d watched her at the clubs with Brennan; he’d watched her stand up to Nyx. And held her in my arms like something molten and too dangerous to touch. There was something different about her, but getting involved personally with a case was a bad idea.
He caught up to Eavan and said, “You need a lift?”
She gave him a strained smile. “It’s a bad idea, Cillian.”
He shrugged. “I’m not running—from either of my jobs.”
“It’s a mistake,” she said.
“It’s my mistake then.”
The way she held herself aloof made him want to comfort her, but in light of what she’d just revealed, that was the very last thing he could do. Instead, they walked silently to his car and drove to Nyx’s house.
10
Nyx was dressed in the closest thing to proper attire that she ever wore. Eavan knew when she walked in that they weren’t staying. She shivered. “Will you let Mr. Owens leave?”
“Mr. Owens?” Nyx repeated with a knowing smile. “Your Cillian is perfectly free to leave if he’d like to go.”
Eavan’s distancing tactic was, like most things, utterly transparent to Nyx. How many times had they stood in the kitchen in a standoff? Nothing had changed, not the ridiculously artificial country-shabby decor of the room, not the fear that she felt, and certainly not the fact that Nyx had the upper hand.
Nyx gestured toward the door they’d just entered. “He can go. No strings as long as he doesn’t tell anyone what he’s learned of our world. I’m not a monster, Evvie.”
Before Eavan could dispute that claim, Nyx held up hand and said, “Not now.”
“So…” Cillian’s tone was relaxed, but he stood nearer Eavan with his body slightly at an angle, positioning himself between the two women. He hadn’t left. Instead, he’d chosen sides. For whatever reason, he was still acting as if he was there to protect her.
Nyx stepped toward him, each pace measured and timed to give him a chance to back away, to acknowledge her as the alpha predator she was.
Cillian stepped forward, moving away from the kitchen counter to give himself room to maneuver. He grinned. “If you’re going to get hostile over her figuring out that you hired me because of Brennan, now’s the time, Grandma.”
Nyx paused.
Eavan winced.
“You’re either brave or foolish, Mr. Owens.” Nyx reached out beside him and took a pair of bone carved hair sticks from the counter. “My granddaughter is precious to me. I want you to keep her safe. In exchange, I will help you in your job. That hasn’t changed.”
Eavan was speechless.
“Done. I’ll do my best, but”—Cillian scowled—“I’m not a stud for hire. Eavan told me about…the other thing.”
“Of course she did. It’s a bit sooner than I expected, but this was all inevitable, my dears.” Nyx twisted her hair up into a coil atop her head. Tendrils snaked down on either side. Stylists would have to work for the look she achieved in a moment—of course, glaistig hair was a living extension of the body, so that did help.
Nyx stepped between them and put one arm around Eavan and the other around Cillian. “If she needs a bedmate she might not kill—which she seems fixated on—you’ll be handy. It’s the most progress I’ve had with her, so I’m content. Now, let’s go see Daniel, so that matter can be put to rest, shall we?”
Eavan hesitated. “Grandmama? Do you think that’s it’s a good idea for all of us to go?”
Nyx’s laughter was unrestrained. She patted Eavan on the cheek and walked out the door.
They stood in Brennan’s living room, after having Nyx charm the doorman, a maid, and two security guards. Cillian wasn’t sure at all of the protocol. B&E wasn’t outside the parameters of his job, but murder usually required either a series of paperwork or immediate threat.
“Much easier to tread quietly when he covers the floor with this.” Nyx looked gleeful as she walked across the plush carpet. “Poor bastard won’t know what hit him.”
“He’s unnaturally tempting.” Eavan spoke softly. “There’s something off.”
“He plays with voodoo, dabbles in zombification, so he’s abuzz with energy, and you’re”—Nyx paused and looked askance at Cillian—“you’re hungry. The privilege of age, Eavan: I’m not starving or unsure.”
Eavan stood, examining an obsidian sculpture to avoid looking at Nyx or Cillian as she admitted, “I don’t like this.”
“Noted.” Nyx didn’t bother to hide her amusement. She looked around Brennan’s house like an antiques appraiser. “He has good taste.”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Cillian repeated for the sixth time. Unfortunately, after the second time, Nyx ignored him as if he hadn’t spoken aloud. Cillian wasn’t exactly sure why she even allowed them to come along. He did, however, know what he was doing there. Months of work would be wasted if Brennan was murdered. Admittedly, it would be satisfying. Having criminals simply arrested sometimes felt anticlimactic, but having them murdered before they revealed the information he needed to proceed on his case was a trouble of a different sort.
He tried again: “Unless he has records here, this will stall the whole investigation…Nyx!” He turned to Eavan. “Can she hear me?”
This time, though, Nyx paused. “He’s selling mortals. It upsets Evvie, and she’s behaving foolishly. He’s moving drugs that are causing you complications. If I kill him, she’ll be happier; your employer will have resolved a drug flow. I can always use a snack. Where’s the downside?”
Then she sashayed across the room and into Brennan’s bedroom, humming softly. She left the door wide open, so they could see her when she stopped beside a massive glass-block pedestal bed. With a wicked grin, she watched Cillian as she lifted one side of her skirt. He couldn’t look away—or stop the sound of shock. Her legs were not those of a human: they were muscular and furred like an animal’s legs.
“Told you that you didn’t want all of those questions answered, Cillian,” she said as she pulled out her hairpins. Her hair was writhing around her shoulders like angry serpents.
He took a step backward.
Eavan reached out and squeezed his hand. “We should look for his files.”