Ceremony In Death

"You've got it pretty well wrapped." Peabody fell into step beside her. "You'll be able to relax some tonight at the party."

"Party?" Eve stopped dead. "Mavis's party? That's tonight? Hell."

"So speaks the party animal," Peabody said dryly. "Personally, I'm looking forward to it. It's been a shitty week."

"Halloween's supposed to be for kids, so they can blackmail adults into forking over junk food. Grown men and women ru

"Actually it's an old, revered tradition with its roots in earth religions."

"Don't get started," Eve warned as they rode down to the garage. She eyed Peabody suspiciously. "You're not actually wearing a costume."

"How else can I guarantee getting my share of candy?" Peabody brushed some lint from the front of her uniform.

– =O=-***-=O=-

The store was dark, and so was the apartment. No one answered the knock on any door. Eve considered, checked her watch. "I'm going to stake it out for a couple of hours. I'd rather hit her tonight."

"She's probably at the sabbat ceremony."

"I don't figure she's in the mood for naked dancing under the circumstances. I'll stick. You can catch transpo from here."

"I can stay."

"It's not necessary. If she doesn't show in a couple hours, I'll head to Mavis's."

"Like that?" Peabody sca

"No. I'll see you there." Eve climbed back in the car, lowered the window. "So, what are you wearing?"

"It's a secret," Peabody said with a grin and walked off to catch a tram home.

"Embarrassing," Eve decided, and settling back, engaged her 'link. The system put her through to Roarke at his midtown office.

"Just caught me," he told her, and noted the edge of the steering wheel on the monitor. "Obviously, you're not at home getting yourself ready for tonight's festivities."

"Obviously not. I've got a couple more hours here, so I'll meet you at Mavis's. We can duck out early."

"I can see you're already looking forward to an exciting evening."

"Halloween." She glanced over as a ghoul, a six-foot pink rabbit, and a mutant transexual crossed the street in front of her car. "I just don't get it."

"Darling Eve, for some it's simply an excuse to be foolish. For others it's a serious holy day. Samhain, the begi

"Boy." She gave a mock shudder. "Now I'm spooked."

"Tonight we'll concentrate on using it as an excuse to be foolish. Want to get drunk and have wild sex?"

"Yeah." Her lips twitched. "That sounds pretty good."

"We could get started now. A little 'link sex."

"That would be illegal over an official line. Besides, you never know when Dispatch is going to get nosey."

"Then I won't mention how much I want to get my hands on you. My mouth on you. How exciting it is to feel you under me, when I'm inside you and you arch back, struggling to breathe and fist your hands in my hair."

"No, don't mention it," she told him as the muscles in her thighs tingled and went lax. "I'll see you in a couple hours. We'll, ah, go home early. Then you could mention it."

"Eve?"

"Yeah?"

"I adore you." With a silky, satisfied smile on his face, he disengaged.

She blew out a long, slow breath. "When am I going to get used to this?" she muttered.

The sex was mind-scrambling enough. She'd never thought of the act as any more than a necessary and mildly pleasurable physical release. Until Roarke. He could turn her dry-mouthed and needy with a look. But more was the hold he had on her heart in that firm, possessive grip that was alternately comforting and terrifying.

She'd never understood the demanding power of love.

Frowning, she looked back at the apartment across the street. Hadn't that been what she'd seen there? Power and love? Isis was a strong, powerful woman. Could love have blinded her so completely?

It wasn't impossible, Eve mused. But it was… disappointing, she admitted. For herself, she knew Roarke had spent much of his life skirting the law. Hell, she thought, he'd stomped on it.

She knew he'd stolen, cheated, finagled. She knew he'd killed. The abused child from the mean streets of Dublin had done what he'd needed to do to survive. Then had done as he'd liked to profit. She couldn't entirely blame him for either.

Yet, if he used his power and his position today to kill, what would she do? Would she stop loving him? She wasn't sure, but she was sure that she would know. And the code that she lived by wouldn't allow her to turn a blind eye to murder.

Maybe the code Isis lived by wasn't as strong.

And yet, as she sat in the dark with the sharp little teeth of the wind biting at her windows, she found she couldn't balance it.

Forte had all but confessed now, she reminded herself. Once she'd confronted him with the robe, with the evidence, he'd started toward surrender.

That wasn't entirely true, she thought. It was when she'd brought Isis into it that he'd changed directions.

Protecting her. Shielding her. Sacrificing for her.

With a new theme playing in her mind, she got out of the car, crossed the street.

A number of people wandered the street, many of them in costumes. Even as she stepped over the curb, a gaggle of teenagers rushed by, making enough noise to wake the dead. No one paid any attention to a lone woman in a leather jacket climbing the stairs to a dark apartment.

She stood on the landing a moment, sca

To test her theory farther, Eve tried the door. Finding it locked, she simply fished a master code out of her pocket. She had the door open in seconds and waited just outside it for the sound of a security alarm.

There was only silence inside.

No security, she decided, and resisted the temptation to go in. The average civilian wouldn't have access to a master, but there were other ways of popping unsecured locks.

Hadn't the apartment been empty the day before? With both Forte and Isis at Central, how easy would it have been for someone to slip in, to plant a bloodstained robe in an obvious place?

Eve shut the door again and stood arguing with herself. Mirium had implicated him. She'd said his name as she sat on the floor, blood still ru

Delusional, sociopathic, easily influenced.

Damn it. Eve trooped down the steps, back to her car. The evidence was there, wasn't it? Motive, opportunity. It was a fucking textbook checklist. She even had a confessed accomplice in custody.

An accomplice he'd been sleeping with on the side. Having sex in Central Park, using his influence to bring her into the coven right under his lover's nose.

It fit, she told herself. And that was the trouble. It slid so well into place it was as if someone had oiled the slot. All you had to do was leave out love – selfless, devoted, unquestioning love. Add that, and it scraped along the sides of that slot, screaming in protest.

If there was a chance it was a setup, and that she was being used to make it click, she was damn well going to find out. She considered calling Peabody, started to reach for her 'link, when she heard the scream. She was out of the car, her hand on her weapon, when she spotted the black-robed figure dragging a woman into the shadows.

"Police." She rushed forward, drawing. "Back off."

He did more than that. He ran. When Eve reached the woman, she was lying facedown, moaning. Holstering her weapon, she crouched down.