A Caress of Twilight

I glanced back just enough to see that Frost was drifting closer. I shook my head, and he stopped. He frowned, clearly not happy; but he didn't have to be happy, he just had to give me room.

"Have you ever seen this many dead before?" I asked. My voice was quiet.

"What?" Peterson asked.

I repeated my question.

He shook his head. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It's horrible," I said.

"Yeah, it's horrible, and what the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"You'd be friendlier if it wasn't such a horrible crime scene."

He made a sound that was almost a laugh, but too harsh to be one. "Well, hell, Princess, this is friendly. This is exactly how friendly I am to murderers like you who hide behind diplomatic immunity." He smiled, but it was a baring of teeth, like a snarl.

I'd once been suspected of killing a man who'd attempted to rape me. I hadn't done it, but without diplomatic immunity I might have gone to jail anyway. I'd have at least seen a trial. I didn't try to deny it again. Peterson wouldn't believe me now any more than he had before.

"Why are these nine bodies the only ones that went quietly?" I asked.

He frowned at me. "What?"

"Why are these nine bodies the only ones without signs of struggle on them?"

"This is a police investigation, and I am the senior officer on-site. This is my investigation, and I don't care if you are one of our civilian advisers on metaphysical shit. I don't even care if you've helped us out in the past. You've never done shit for me, and I don't need help from any goddamned faerie. So, for the last time, get the fuck out of here."

I'd tried being sympathetic. I'd tried being businesslike. When being good doesn't help, you can always be bad. I reached out toward him, as if to touch his face. He did what I knew he'd do. He backed up.

"What's wrong, Lieutenant?" I made sure to look puzzled.

"Don't ever touch me." His voice was quieter now. And, I realized, much more dangerous than the yelling.

"It wasn't the touch of my skin that drove you mad last time, Lieutenant. It was the Branwyn's Tears."

His voice dropped even lower. "Don't... ever... touch me... again." There was something in his eyes that was frightening. He was afraid of me, really afraid, and that made him hate me.

Rhys stepped a little ahead of me, not quite putting himself between me and the lieutenant but almost. I didn't fight him. It's never comforting to have anyone look at you with such hatred.

"We've met only once, Lieutenant. Why do you hate me?" It was a question so direct that even a human wouldn't have asked it. But I didn't understand, couldn't understand; so I had to ask.

He looked down, hiding his eyes as if he hadn't expected me to see so far into his soul. His voice was very low when he said, "You forget, I saw what you left on that bed -- just a pile of raw meat, cut to ribbons. Without dental records we couldn't have recognized him. And you wonder why I don't want you to touch me?" He shook his head and looked at me, eyes blank and unreadable, cop eyes. "Now, get out, Princess. Take your two goons and get out. I am senior officer in charge, and I won't have you here." His voice was calm now, very calm, too calm for standing in the middle of all this.

"Lieutenant, I called the Grey Detective Agency." Lucy Tate came in from the deck.

"And who authorized that?" Peterson asked.

"I've never needed special authorization to bring them in before." She picked her way through the lines of bodies, and when she got close enough, Lucy was over a head taller than the lieutenant.

"The clairvoyant I understand. Even Mr. Grey, because he's a well-known magician. But why her?" He jerked a thumb at me.

"The sidhe are well known for magic use, Lieutenant. I thought the more heads we have on this one, the better."

"You thought, you thought... Well, don't think, Detective. Just follow procedure. And procedure is that you check with the head of the task force, and that's me. And I say she's not welcome."

"Lieutenant, I -- "

"Detective Tate, if you want to stay on this task force, you'll follow my lead, my orders, and you won't argue with me. Is that clear?"

I watched Lucy struggle with his sharp words, then finally she said, "Yes, sir, that's clear."

"Good," he said, "because the upper brass can think anything they want, but it's my ass on the line here, in the cameras, and I say it's some kind of toxic gas or poison. When they finish the toxicology work on the other bodies, they'll know what it is, and it'll be our job to find out who did it. Look first for whodunit, not whatdunit. You don't have to go to fairy-tale land to solve this murder. It's just another crazy son of a bitch that's as mortal as everyone else in this room."

He turned his head to one side in an odd gesture, then looked at me, at Rhys, and at Frost beyond. "Sorry, my mistake. Mortal as all the rest of us humans in this room. Now, you take you immortal asses and get out of here. And if I hear that anyone on my watch has been talking to you, they'll be up on disciplinary charges. Is that clear to everyone?"

"Yes, sir," Lucy said.

I smiled charmingly at him. "Thanks so much, Lieutenant. I hated being here among all this death. It's been one of the worst things I've ever seen in my life, so thank you for letting me leave, when it was taking everything I had not to run out." I kept smiling as I pulled off the one surgical glove I'd put on. I hadn't touched anything, or any body, because I hadn't wanted to take the feel of their dead flesh back with me.

Rhys stripped off his gloves, too, and he had touched things. We worked our way to the bag set out for glove disposal, and I couldn't help saying just before we stepped out the door, "Thanks again, Lieutenant, for letting me go. I agree with you, I don't know what the hell I'm doing here." With that I left, Rhys and Frost trailing behind me like pale shadows.

Chapter 23

I was behind the wheel of the Acura before I realized I couldn't remember where we were supposed to be going. I stared at the keys in my hands and couldn't think. "Where are we going?"

The men exchanged a look, then Rhys said from the backseat, "Let me drive, Merry." He reached between the seats and took the keys gently from my hand. I didn't argue. The day seemed to be full of a high buzzing sound like some invisible mosquito humming in my ear.

Rhys held the door open for me, and I walked around to the passenger-side door. Frost held the door for me and got me settled in before getting into the back. I was lucky that Rhys was with me. Frost didn't know how to drive a car.

"Buckle up," Rhys said.

It wasn't like me to forget my seat belt. It took me two tries to get the belt fastened. "What's wrong with me?"

"Shock," Rhys said, as he put the car in gear.

"Shock? Why?"

Frost answered, leaning forward over my seat. Most of the guards never buckled up; they could be decapitated and not die, so I guess a little trip through a windshield didn't worry them. "You said it yourself to the policeman. You have never seen anything as awful as what you have just seen."

"Have you seen worse?"

He was quiet for a second, then said, "Yes."

I glanced at Rhys, who had moved us onto the Pacific Highway with its beautiful views of the ocean. "How about you?"

"How about me, what?" he asked, flashing me a grin.

I frowned at him. "Have you seen worse?"

"Yes. And, no, I'm not going to tell you about it."

"Not even if I ask nicely?"

"Especially if you ask nicely. If I was angry enough, I might try to shock you with the horrors I've seen. But I'm not angry with you, and I don't want to hurt you."