"I knew your mother," Benicio said as he crossed the room. No "she was a good woman" or "I'm sorry for your loss" tacked on. A statement as emotionless as his stare. His gaze swept the room, taking in the secondhand furniture and bare walls. Part of me wanted to explain, and another part of me was horrified by the impulse. I didn't owe this man an explanation.
Benicio stepped in front of the couch—part of a perfectly serviceable if threadbare set. He looked down at it as if debating whether it might soil his suit. At that, a small inkling of the old Paige bubbled to the surface.
"Don't bother sitting," I said. "This isn't a tea-and-crumpets kind of visit. Oh, and I'm fine, thank you for asking."
Benicio turned his empty stare on me and waited. For at least twenty seconds, we just stood there, looking at one another. I tried to hold out, but I broke first.
"As I told your men, Lucas is in court, out of town. If you didn't believe me—"
"I know where my son is."
A chill tickled the nape of my neck as I heard the unspoken qualifier: "I
always
know where my son is." I'd never thought of that, but hearing him now, there was no doubt in my mind that Benicio always knew exactly where Lucas was, and what he was doing.
"Well, that's funny," I said. "Because your men said you had a message for him. But if you know he's not here then… Oh, I get it. That was only an excuse, right? You know Lucas is gone and you came here pretending to want to deliver a message, hoping for a chance to meet the new girlfriend. You wouldn't want to do that with Lucas around, because you might not be able to control your disappointment when you confirm that your son is indeed dating—whoops, living with—a witch."
"I do have a message," he said. "For both of you."
"I'm guessing it's not 'congratulations.' "
"I have a case that might interest Lucas," he said. "One that might also be of particular interest to you as well." While we'd been talking, his eyes never left mine, but now, for the first time since he'd arrived he truly seemed to be looking at me. "You're developing quite the reputation, both for fending off the Nast Cabal's attempt to take Savannah and for your role in ending that business with Tyrone Winsloe last year. This particular case would require someone with such expertise."
As he spoke, a thrill of gratification went through me. On its heels came a wave of shame. God, was I that transparent? Throw a few empty words of praise my way and I wriggled like a happy puppy? Our first meeting and Benicio already knew exactly what buttons to press.
"When's the last time Lucas worked for you?" I asked.
"This isn't working for me. I'm simply passing along a case that I believe would interest my son—"
"And when's the last time you tried that one? August, wasn't it?
Something about a Vodoun priest in Colorado? Lucas turned you down flat, as he always does."
Benicio's cheek twitched. An actual reaction?
"What," I said, "you didn't think Lucas told me about that? Like he didn't tell me how you bring him a case every few months, either to piss off the other Cabals or to trick him into doing something at your request?
He's not sure which it is. I'm guessing both."
He paused, as if recovering his poise. "This case is different."
"Oh, I'm sure it is."
"It involves the child of one of our employees," he said. "A fifteen-year-old girl named Dana MacArthur."
I opened my mouth to cut him off, but couldn't. The moment he said
"fifteen-year-old girl," I needed to hear the rest.
Benicio continued, "Three nights ago, someone attacked her while she was walking through a park. She was stabbed, hung from a tree, and left to die."
My gut clenched. "Is she… ?" I tried to force out the last word, but couldn't.
"She's alive," Benicio said. "Comatose, but alive."
As he said those last words, his voice softened. I looked into his eyes then and I saw exactly what I wanted to see, exactly what I'm sure he saw reflected back in my own gaze, the sorrow and indignation. I saw that, and I knew I was supposed to see it.
"Dana wasn't the first," Benicio said.
As he waited for me to ask the obvious question, I swallowed it and forced my brain to switch tracks.
"That's… too bad," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "I hope she recovers. And I hope you find the culprit. I can't help you, though, and I'm sure Lucas can't either, but I'll pass along the message."
I walked toward the front hall.
Benicio didn't budge. "There's one more thing you should know."
I bit my lip. Don't ask. Don't fall for it. You know you don't want to—
"The girl," he said. "Dana MacArthur. She's a witch."
We locked gazes for a moment. Then I tore mine away, strode to the door and flung it open.
"Get out," I said.
And, to my surprise, he did.
Also Available From
Kelley Armstrong
IN THE
Women of the Otherworld
SERIES
BITTEN
: BOOK I
&
STOLEN
: BOOK II
"
Bitten
… did much the same thing for werewolves that Anne Rice did for vampires."
—
Rocky Mountain News
"Armstrong is up there with the big girls of the genre, like Laurell K.
Hamilton."
—
Kansas City Star
Available Wherever Paperbacks Are Sold
Plume
A member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. www.penguin.com From one of today's most original writers comes mesmerizing tale of an exceptional young woman caught up in an otherworldly realm where some will stop at nothing to get what they want…