Books by Maggie Shayne (324 page)

Straightening, he commanded his men. “Go. And remember this is the body of the Goddess you have in your charge. Treat her as such. She is to have anything she desires.”

She turned away from him and marched toward the door like a martyr to the pyre.

“Inanna is an impatient Goddess,” someone said. “Already she lives in this priestess! See how proudly she moves!”

“Fool, don’t you recognize her? She’s the priestess who is half goddess already!”

“They say she has strange powers....”

“Left on the doorstep of the temple by the Goddess Herself...”

The murmuring spread. Nidaba stopped walking and turned to watch, as several bowed their heads in respect when she passed. A look of confusion crossed her features as she met Eannatum’s eyes once more. He placed his right fist in the palm of his left hand and bowed his head. A gesture of deep respect, which he gave willingly, and meant sincerely.

Then everyone in the room followed his example, saluting her, bowing their heads. A frown creased her brow as she turned to go.

“You are staring,” Nidaba said in her deep, rich voice, like honey on his senses.

Nathan blinked and shook himself out of the past. “I was ... remembering. The coronation.” He glanced sideways at George, expecting to see the man there, looking puzzled, but George had gone into the front parlor with his dog, and the two were relaxing near the fire. “When you danced for me,” he said, finally.

Nidaba’s thick lashes came down to veil her gaze. “I was confused when they all began to treat me as if I were the Goddess herself. As if she had already descended into my body.”

He smiled very slowly. “But she had, Nidaba.”

“No. She never did. She turned her face away from me that night. Abandoned me because I did not serve her well.”

“You’re wrong. How have you managed to live so long, and not yet come to understand your own nature? A woman like you, Nidaba, is the Goddess personified. She didn’t need to take over your body. She already lived in you, from the day you were born.”

That same tiny frown he’d seen in the past, marred her brow. He would have said more, but Sheila’s voice, groggy and thick, interrupted him.

“Nathan, what are we goin‘ to do about poor Lisette?”

He stalled for a response even as he hurried to help her to the table. “Come, Sheila. Sit. Are you all right?”

“I slept some,” she said, sniffling, and shuffled her feet as he led her to a chair. Then she sank into it as if boneless.

“Nidaba, this is Sheila. She’s my most trusted friend.”

Nidaba studied the woman, and Nathan thought she looked first relieved at the sight of Sheila and then concerned as she perused Sheila’s wet, red eyes and puffy face. Nidaba glanced at Nathan then, a question in her eyes. “Is she one of—?”

“No.” He said it quickly, not giving her time complete the question.

Nidaba looked doubtful. “That’s what you thought about the other one, you’ll recall.”

“Sheila’s been with me for years. The other one... only a day or two.”

Nidaba sniffed, but eyeing the woman again, seemed to accept his word that Sheila was not a Dark Witch on the hunt.

“It’s good to see you up and around, miss,” Sheila said. “I only wish it had been under better circumstances. Not with death itself breathing down our very necks.” And she shivered as she said it.

“Death?” Nidaba looked from Nathan to Sheila and back again.

“Sheila’s best friend, Lisette, was a nurse,” Nathan explained. “We hired her to come here, to help us care for you.”

Nidaba lifted one brow in regal sarcasm. “Oh? Was she the one who tried to murder me a short while ago?”

“Tried to
murder
you? I’d like to know how she managed it when she’s been lyin‘ dead in the basement all the afternoon!” Sheila cried, her voice breaking near the end.

“Please,” Nathan said, before Nidaba could respond yet again. “If the two of you will let me speak.” They both fell silent. “Good. Sheila ... Dammit, I don’t know how to say this gently.”

“Say it straight, Nathan. I’m no frail flower, as you know very well by now. Or ought to.”

Drawing a breath, Nathan sighed. “Your friend Lisette has been lying in that basement far longer than you realize. In fact, I suspect she was put there within a few hours of her arrival here.”

“Well, now, don’t be daft, Nathan! She’s been right up here with us, helping to care for your ladyfriend. We’ve both seen her, spoken to her...” Sheila stopped herself when he held up a hand.

“The woman who’s been walking around here with us was an impostor. Someone who killed Lisette and then made herself look just like her in order to fool us.”

“Impossible!” Sheila said. Nidaba, though, remained silent.

“Remember how she lost her voice right after she got here?” Nathan asked. “So she wouldn’t speak above that odd, hoarse whisper? That was because she couldn’t change her voice. Only her appearance, Sheila. If you had heard her speak at full volume, you would have known it wasn’t your friend’s voice.”

Sheila blinked. “But... but... how? She looked—it was no disguise, Nathan. She looked exactly like Lisette. Even a makeup artist couldn’t have done such a convincing job of disguising herself.”

“A glamourie,” Nidaba murmured. “By the Gods, she must be good.”

“A glam ... what?” Sheila rubbed her forehead with two fingers. “I don’t understand any of this! Even if someone
could
make themselves look that much like Lisette, why would they bother? Why would anyone want to murder her and then impersonate her? It just makes no sense!”

“To try to get to me,” Nidaba said very quietly. “I’m very sorry your friend got caught up in all of this, Sheila. It seems I’ve brought this upon you, and for that... I am deeply sorry.”

Sheila, though, was still shaking her head. “It makes no sense,” she said again. “She looked... she looked exactly ... How could anyone be that convincing?”

Nidaba’s eyes met Nathan’s. Only an immortal High Witch, and a very old one at that, would be likely to have mastered such an art, and Nidaba knew that as well as Nathan did himself. He could see the knowledge there. This enemy they faced could be more powerful than they had first believed.

“What are we going to do with her, Nathan? I... I just... if we call the police ...”

“If we call the police, I’ll be arrested for kidnapping Nidaba, she’ll probably end up back in the mental ward, a sitting duck for this killer, and you’ll in all likelihood get yourself deported. We could both easily end up as suspects in Lisette’s murder, as well. I don’t think that’s what she would want. Do you, Sheila?”

“Well... well, no. I think she would want the person who did this to her caught, and ... and punished.”

“I’ll see to it that they are. I give you my word on that,” he said. “But not if we get the police involved.” Nathan got to his feet, came around the table, and took Sheila’s hands in his. “Did she have any family, Sheila?”

Sheila shook her head. “She was alone. Oh, there may have been a cousin or two, back in Queensland, but aside from that... no. No one.” She met his eyes, and he could see that she understood. Slowly, she nodded. “I want her buried proper, Nathan. Not tossed into a swamp somewhere. She deserves respect. Words said over her. A decent resting place.”

“I’ll see to it,” he promised, lowering his head as a heavy ache settled in his chest. “Trust me.”

Nidaba stood on the cliffs above the sea, with George on her right and Sheila on her left. The ever present Rottweiler, Queenie, sat at George’s feet, her gaze focused on the tiny boat, just as everyone else’s was. The small craft bobbed and bounded on the waves as Natum rowed further and further out into the sea. The sky beyond him settled to a darker shade of gray, and moments later the little boat was barely visible.

“I can’t see him anymore,” George said, sounding scared to death. And no wonder, with the wind, the darkness, and the knowledge that a killer lurked somewhere near.

Nidaba had realized almost from the first words she had exchanged with the big man that he was a child in a man’s body. Part of him—that innocent part—reminded her painfully of the son she’d had once, long ago. Her Nicodimus.

She automatically closed her hand around George’s larger one and squeezed. “Don’t be afraid, George. He’ll light the lamp in a moment, you’ll see.”

“And we should light ours, as well.” At Nidaba’s other side, Sheila bent down to do just that, then stood, lifting the kerosene lantern so its soft golden glow spilled all around them.

The wind blew in off the sea, and Nidaba’s hair snapped and danced in time with the lantern’s flame. She wore a long black dress she had found in the closet. Eannatum had, Sheila told her, stocked it himself, choosing each item for her personally. This gown, a simple one of some clingy modern fabric, had a scooped neckline and long sleeves that fit her arms snugly. It hugged her body the same way, all the way to her hips. From there it flowed freely to puddle around her feet. A braided cord of silver, gold, and black served as a sash, tied loosely about her waist, the knot dipping lower in front, forming a vee. It was very much like the clothing she had worn of old, except in color. And she felt the tug, the calling of the High Priestess she had been and still was, deep inside. One of her duties had been to comfort the bereaved on occasions such as this one. She had, she realized dully, fallen into her old role with barely a pause.

Finally, in the distance, an answering light appeared on the sea. It rose, ghostlike, then moved slowly from side to side in wide arcs.

“It’s time,” Nidaba said.

Sheila lowered her head in silent prayer, her free hand closing around Nidaba’s, though she may not even have been aware of it. She was not an immortal. Natum had assured her of as much, but Nidaba knew it for certain by her touch. And by her trembling, she knew the woman was in pain.

“Good-bye, dear friend,” Sheila whispered at last.

“Not good-bye,” Nidaba said softly. “She goes into the arms of the Goddess, where she will find comfort and perfect love as she adjusts to her new form. No longer physical as we are, but every bit as alive, every bit as real. Your friend is still with you, Sheila. She lives on. And she’s all right. She truly is.”

Blinking, Sheila turned to Nidaba. “You really believe that?”

“I do. Speak to her, if you need evidence of it. Ask her for a sign.”

Sheila’s face puckered with her frown. But she didn’t speak. She only turned to stare out at the sea as the wind made the lamp flicker.

Nidaba closed her eyes, focused her energies, silently called on the departed soul to send comfort to her friend. As she opened her eyes again, the clouds parted, and the lopsided gibbous moon shone down on the waves for just a moment. Something arched up out of the water, moving gracefully, its skin slick and shining in the moonlight. Then it splashed down again, vanishing beneath the waves.

“Was that... ?” Sheila began.

The creature jumped again, and with a final slap of its tail, submerged.

“It was ... a dolphin,” Sheila said. “But it shouldn’t have been. Not this far north, this late in the season.”

She looked at Nidaba. “What does it mean?”

Nidaba smiled. “You tell me.”

Blinking, Sheila bit her lip, but it didn’t stop the tears. “When we were girls together, in Townsville, in Queensland, we used to go to Halifax Bay and spend hours just watching the dolphins.” She dashed away tears. “When we were sixteen, we bought matchin‘ pendants.” She touched the necklace at her throat, lifting it. And in the glow of the lantern, Nidaba saw the pendant, a tiny silver dolphin with a gleaming topaz eye.

“You’ve had your sign,” Nidaba murmured. “Speak to her, if you wish. She’ll hear you.”

Swallowing hard, Sheila closed her hand around the pendant, and shut her eyes. “I loved you, Lisette, my friend. Like my own sister you were, and are. I’ll cherish your memory always, love.”

“Go in peace,” Nidaba intoned.

She could not see Nathan sliding the lifeless, lovingly wrapped body into the sea. But she sensed it happening. Nathan knew the ocean here. Knew the tides. He hadn’t weighted the dead woman’s body, but instead had placed her into the loving embrace of an outgoing current that would sweep her quickly out into the sea’s forgiving depths.

Sheila sniffled. Nidaba felt a true tug at her heart. These two people who flanked her were, she sensed, very dear to Nathan. It was not difficult to see why. Looking sideways at the woman’s tear-filled eyes, she was moved to speak. No longer in the role of comforting High Priestess, however, but in that of avenging angel. “I promise you, Sheila, the person who killed your friend will pay. I will see to it.”

Looking back at her, Sheila studied her for a long moment, then nodded once. “I do believe you will,” she whispered.

Glancing out to sea, Nidaba saw the tiny golden light of Nathan’s lantern moving slowly, steadily, back toward shore. It was done.

Still holding their hands, Nidaba led the other two away from the shore and back to the house. It would take time for Natum to make his way back to them. Sheila was exhausted, emotionally drained. And George had dealt with far more excitement today than he was used to. They entered the house through the rear door, which led into the kitchen. Nidaba released their hands and went to the stove, rummaging around in search of a pot, and teabags.

“You needn’t do that, now,” Sheila was saying. “You’re the one who’s been so ... so ill. I ought to be fixin‘ tea for you.”

Nidaba offered a smile. “Nonsense. You’ve been waiting on me hand and foot while I’ve been lying like a lump in that bedroom upstairs. But I’m fine now. Better every moment, in fact.”

She saw the doubt in Sheila’s eyes, even as the woman slumped into a kitchen chair. “It truly is amazin‘, how fast you seem to be recovering,” she said.

Nidaba knew she was likely making conversation only to keep from thinking too much about her loss. It was natural, and she was glad to play along. “It was a reaction to the drug they gave me that made me so ill,” Nidaba explained, knowing the woman might still have some lingering doubts about her mental state.

Sheila frowned. “Like ... an allergy, Nathan said.”

“Exactly like that.” Locating the kettle, Nidaba filled it and set it on the burner to heat. “I was given a tranquilizer, and when I reacted the way I did, it was mistaken for a mental breakdown of some kind, and treated with more drugs, which only worsened the reaction.”

Nodding, Sheila sighed. “And that’s why they had you locked up in that hospital. I vow, it must have been horrible for you.”

Nidaba found cups, lined three of them up on the counter, and began opening cupboards in search of tea-bags. “I don’t remember much about it, to be honest. I wasn’t even certain I believed Ean ... er... Nathan when he told me that part.”

“Oh, I can vouch for him on that. I was with him when he first glimpsed your picture in the paper. I thought he was goin‘ to faint dead away, by the look on his face. And I was with him again, the night he took you out of there.”

“You were?”

Sheila rose and came across the room to open yet another cupboard, from which she took a sugar bowl and a canister brimming with assorted teas. “Yes. I was driving the car. I could scarcely believe it was our dear Nathan committing a crime like that in the dead of night, running from the police.”

“I helped too!” George said from the table where he sat.

Cocking her head to one side, Nidaba studied them both. “It seems I am more deeply indebted to you two than I even suspected.”

“Oh, no,” Sheila said quickly, setting the sugar and the tea canister onto a silver tray. “We’d do anything for Nathan. And by the looks of it, he’d do anything for you.”

“Do you really think so?”

Sheila shrugged, turned to the refrigerator and took out the cream. “Well, isn’t it obvious? He’s never had so much as a parking ticket, missy. Not in all the time I’ve known him. He takes great pains not to draw attention to himself and keeps his life so quiet and mundane that it—well, it’s almost tedious. And yet, along you come. Out of the blue. And he turns everything upside down. For the love of heaven, Nidaba, have you not even noticed what he’s out there
doin
this night? Disposin‘ of a body, of all things!”

Nidaba paused in placing the cups on the tray. “I suppose that’s true. He’s putting himself and his... his mundane lifestyle at great risk by all of this, isn’t he?”

“Ah, now, I didn’t mean to make you feel badly for it.” Sheila patted Nidaba’s hand in a motherly fashion. “It’s what he wants to do. There’s no talkin‘ to Nathan when he sets his mind to something he wants. And I, for one, think he’s doin’ the right thing. It’s you I’m concerned about.”

“Why?” Nidaba picked up the whistling teapot and poured the three cups full of steaming water. Then she lifted the tray and carried it to the table. Sheila followed, taking a seat and helping herself to a cup.

“Well, now, do you remember what happened to cause them to give you the tranquilizer in the first place?”

Nidaba thought back, but only fuzzy bits came. “No. I guess—I think there was an ambulance, but...” She shrugged. “Nathan said something about a fall from a building.”

“They claimed you’d jumped from a rooftop,” Sheila said, dipping her teabag slowly. “Called it a suicide attempt.”

“Um-hmm,” George said, taking a cup himself and adding massive amounts of cream and sugar. “I remember that. Your picture was in the newspaper, and as soon as Nathan saw it, he got all quiet... sad, like.” George stirred his tea rapidly, whipping it with the spoon as if it were pudding, then lifting the spoon out to lick the clinging bits of sugar from it. When he finished he had a wide-eyed look on his face as he said, “Hey, you won’t go jumping off our roof, will you? ‘Cause that might upset the birds.”

“The birds?” Nidaba asked, looking from one of them to the other.

“I keep pigeons up there.” Sheila explained.

“You should go up and see them, Nidaba,” George began, but then he bit his lip. “But not if you think you might want to jump again.”

“Don’t worry, George,” Nidaba said. “I promise you, I won’t do that. I didn’t try to commit suicide before either.”

“You didn’t?” George asked.

“No. I don’t remember what did happen, but I know better than to think that.”

“I’ll wager you had some help off that rooftop, missy,” Sheila exclaimed, her voice deep and angry. “This evil visitor we’ve had—some black-hearted murderess who wants to harm you badly enough to kill my Lisette in order to do it—who’s to say this was the first time she’s tried?”

“Indeed,” Nidaba said. “I only wish I knew for sure.” Small pieces of memory came back to her. A confrontation. Yes. A battle. Her dagger had been in her hand. There had certainly been another immortal on that rooftop with her.

“Bah. How many people have more than one enemy out to do them in?” Sheila asked. “It’s rare enough to have one in a lifetime. Much less two.”

Nidaba sipped her tea. Sheila couldn’t know how far off base she was. Nidaba had lived far more than one lifetime, and she’d crossed blades with countless Dark Witches whose only goal had been to do her in. No matter how many she killed, she knew there were always more to come.

Always.

She sighed, truly tired of the violence of her existence. And for a moment she almost understood why Natum had chosen to live a lie, pretending to be an ordinary mortal. Perhaps the endless violence had been too much for him.

Oh, but what he’d given up to be rid of it. His identity. His nature. His freedom.

“You and Nathan ... you’ve known each other before. In the past. Haven’t you, Nidaba?” Sheila asked.

Meeting her eyes, Nidaba nodded. “Yes. A long time ago.”

“I could tell. It’s a rare kind of thing I see when he looks at you. I’ve seen it in him only once before. One night when I couldn’t sleep, I got up and came wanderin‘ down the stairs. He stood there, all alone in the dark, nothin’ but the moonlight flooding through the windows. He stood there, just staring up at the portrait that hangs above the hearth, and the way the moon lit it from above. And I vow, there were tears on his cheeks.”

Nidaba opened her mouth but couldn’t speak.

“I thought that might be something you ought to know,” Sheila said with a sigh. “I’m goin‘ on up to bed now, love. Thank you for helpin’ me through this difficult night.” She patted Nidaba’s hand. “And you truly did help, you know. You truly did.”

“It was true, what I told you out there at the cliffs,” she assured the older woman. “Your friend is still alive, just in a different way.”

She nodded. “I believe it. I do.”

“Take a sleeping pill,” Nidaba advised, but her voice was choked and barely audible. “The rest will do you good.”

Sheila nodded, leaving the room, and Nidaba turned to George. “You may as well go to bed too,” she said. “You can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I’ll wait for Nathan,” he said. “I don’t want to leave you alone. What if that bad lady comes back?”

Nidaba looked around, spotted the dog lying at George’s feet. “You can leave your dog—what do you call her?”

“Queenie,” George said proudly.

“Well, you can leave Queenie here to protect me. She certainly looks up to the job.”

“Oh, she is! She’s the best,” George said. He got out of his chair and crouched near the dog’s head, stroking her muzzle. “You hear that, Queenie? You have to stay here and watch out for Miss Nidaba. Okay?”

The dog didn’t
quite
nod, but it was close.