WereWoman (6 page)

“Love—as a business deal?”

“That's putting it a bit unkindly, but yes.”

“So your friendly thighs aren't just a spot inducement for me to take your case. They have a price.”

“They always do. Ever since Lilith seduced Adam.”

Lilith—the mythical first wife of the biblical Adam, before she was banished and the more conventional Eve substituted. “And Witches descend from Lilith.”

“Of course. That's our legend.”

The problem was, she was getting to me, and not just because of the phenomenal sex. “Was there something else in that potion? Like love elixir?”

“There was not. You must love me naturally, Phil, or it won't work.”

She plainly had the equipment to make me love her. Rather than admit that I was losing this game, I changed the subject. “You washed and dressed me. Can you show me how you did that?”

“I will be glad to. Remember my gesture?”

“Yes.”

“Focus on that.”

I focused. Then I saw her come to me where I stood, take my hand, and lead me to the bathroom. I seemed to be in a daze, obeying without resistance. She stood me before the sink, took a wet cloth, and ran it efficiently over my body, cleaning me all over, paying special attention to the thoroughly used genital region. Then she washed herself similarly. Then she led me back to the bedroom and dressed us both. When she was done, she repeated the hypnotic gesture, and I came alert.

“I'll be damned,” I breathed.

“More fun the other way, no?”

“More fun for me,” I agreed. “You did all the work.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“Now how does love facilitate our mission?”

“True love is an overlapping of the spirits. It can amount almost to telepathy. To the sharing of awareness and abilities. To complete trust.”

“There's that word again,” I said. “Why should we trust each other to such an extent?”

“Because we're both suspects in murder cases. We have got to know, each of us, that the other didn't do it. Telepathy can reassure us.”

“Suspects!”

“Review your PI classes, Phil. When there's a murder, the earliest suspects are those closest to the victim, because that's where the passions are strongest. You were closest to your friend Bear, except for Sydelle. Maybe you killed him to gain access to her.”

“Never!”

“Or maybe she killed him because she wanted better access to you. She's a suspect too.”

“Ridiculous!

“And maybe I killed my cousin because I had a secret hankering for him and he repulsed me, making me a woman scorned.”

That got to me in part because I had entertained just such a thought myself. She
was
a suspect in that murder. And Syd and I were natural suspects in the Bear murder. “We are suspects,” I agreed morosely.

“An investigation should clear us, in time. But you and I need to trust each other
now
. So we can nab the real killer before he strikes again.”

“Or kills one or both of us,” I agreed.

“So now the trust. I am going to do my magic in your presence, so you will fathom my inner nature and know I am innocent, at least of that particular incident. You will do your transformation in my presence for similar reason. We will be connected. Telepathy doesn't lie.”

“Telepathy doesn't lie,” I agreed. “Unless a person is lying to himself.”

“It's not perfect,” she agreed in turn. “But it's the closest thing we have to absolute certainty. Now how close are you to loving me?”

I had to laugh. “Closer than I like. You are playing me, and I fear you are better at it than I am. But I doubt you love me.”

“Maybe we need another session on the bed.”

“That's sex, not love.”

“The two connect. There are hormones, mental sets, associations.”

“I think you can make me love you,” I said candidly. “But I don't see why
you
should love
me.
You are getting what you want from me without that.”

“Not entirely. I can let myself love. It would be easy with you, because you have a talent I genuinely admire. But I won't do that unless I am sure of your love first. The bed?”

“No! At least not right now. This business of doing our—our magics—in each other's presence. I don't trust that.”

“I believe you are sincere and honest in a way my greater experience has spoiled me for. So I will trust you first. Except that if you don't love me now, you will when I enchant you. Are you ready to risk that?”

“Enchanted love is temporary. I'll risk it.”

“Temporary only when it goes against the natural grain. If you would love me in time naturally, the enchantment will merely make it happen now. It won't necessarily fade.”

“Do what you're going to do,” I said. The truth is I was curious about her actual magic in this respect. Could it really reach into my core and put me into love?

This time she didn't gesture. She just stood there and gazed at me. I met her gaze. Her eyes seemed to expand into whirling saucers, or maybe miniature tornadoes.

And her power reached out and caught my mind and heart and wrapped them into her essence. Suddenly I was absolutely bursting with love for her, and sex was only part of it.

But I also knew her Name:
Wons
, a combination of Witch and Nonce, modified.

And I knew her inner spirit. Indeed she was innocent of the murder of the Warlock. She was guilty of many other things, such as seducing men to gain advantage over them, but her love for her cousin had been Family. They had grown up together and shared secrets. They had explored each other's bodies as small children, she amazed by his penis, he surprised by her lack of any such member. They had advised each other on dealing with the opposite gender. She had been truly crushed when he died. The grief-null potion served like a wall between her and the dreadful desolation of his loss. She had been as close to him as I had been to Bear. I knew this with the certainty of mind-sharing.

And she knew me similarly. We were indeed telepathically connected, and it was as close as two people could be without sharing a body. She knew I was innocent too. I knew she knew this, and she knew I knew her innocence.

We came together and embraced. “Oh, Nonce!” I breathed.

“Oh, Phil,” she echoed. “I am letting myself go. I love you.”

After a timeless time we separated, physically. “I think now we have another problem,” I said. “All I can think of is you.”

“We'll burn it off on the bed.”

We had another half hour session before, sexually exhausted, we lay beside each other and gazed at the ceiling. “Now maybe we can discuss investigative strategy,” I said.

“That is simple. You will interview the suspects, fathom their Names, and their states of guilt. When you find the right one, we'll act.”

“How will we act?”

“We'll kill him. No one will question it; the Supes will know that justice has been done. The mundanes won't know anything. They never do.”

And all Supes labored diligently to see that it remained that way. Our peaceful residence scattered among mundanes depended on not arousing their superstitious terror of the supernatural. “They think magic is fantasy,” I said, laughing. “But how do we locate the suspects?”

“You know that, Phil. We'll go to the Clan leaders. They'll cooperate. None of them like Supes getting killed.”

They probably would cooperate. But I still had a doubt. “I can fathom Names when a Supe does magic in my presence. But that won't necessarily give me the identity of the murderer. I may not even get to interview the right suspect.”

“We'll get information on the victims from the Clan leaders, who they associated with, who their friends and lovers and rivals and enemies were. The main chore will be the tedious interviewing of scores of folk who will be innocent but maybe resentful about being suspects. You can't make them do their magic in your presence. So there may be challenges, yes, but you can do it.”

“How can you be so sure?
I'm
not sure.”

“Phil, your WereWoman ability is unusual. But it's your Name fathoming that really counts, for this. It's a form of telepathy that I haven't heard of any other Supe having. That's your key asset. That's why I wanted you in the first place.”

I sighed. “I hope I can live up to your expectation. It would be a shame for you to waste your love on a washout.”

“It would be a shame,” she agreed, kissing me. “Now let's get busy on the case. Time is surely of the essence.”

“First we have to exonerate a major remaining suspect.”

“Your office girl,” she agreed.

“Sydelle is a hell of a lot more than an office girl. She owns the business. She set me up in it. She had a premonition that this was appropriate, and followed through. I owe my career to her.”

“Yes, I picked up on that when I researched you. And I'm sure she is innocent. But we need to prove it.”

“Yes. She'll return to the office tomorrow, and I will update my take on her.”

“Meanwhile we can start with the Witches. I will contact the Coven Mistress. I know her well; I'm sure she'll cooperate.”

“I've never talked with any Clan leader outside the Weres,” I said.

“Then this will be the first of several. You need to establish connections for future cases.”

“You're assuming that I'll be successful in this business.”

“I am. You have the potential.”

“That's what Syd says. I'm not so sure.”

“I'm calling the Mistress.” She lifted her cell phone.

“Not magically?”

“Phil, apart from certain potions and hypnotic techniques, we're pretty ordinary folk. Even if I could signal her telepathically, I wouldn't unless it was an emergency. This is routine.”

“Routine,” I agreed.

“Temblor,” she murmured into the phone. “I have enlisted the PI Phil Were to investigate the murder of Warlock Standish. May we talk with you?” Then she smiled and disconnected.

“She agreed?” I asked, slightly dubious.

“She'll be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Here? I thought we'd have to get an appointment.”

“This case is important to us. We want it solved, so we're facilitating things. It is also off the record, so there's no formal appointment.”

“I don't know what to say to her.”

“You don't need to say anything. Just let her meet you.”

“This is almost too simple for me to grasp.”

Nonce smiled. “Simple on the surface. If she vetoes you, you can keep the gold and my love, but you'll do no work for the Coven.”

“I'm being judged,” I said, catching on. “The rest is dross.” Not that gold and her love really answered that description.

“She respects my judgment. It should be okay.”

There was a single knock on the door. Nonce opened it to a homely short-haired older woman in a dull business suit. Nonce nodded silently, as if bowing to a superior, and ushered the woman in. “Phil, Temblor,” she said, introducing us to each other.

“You let yourself love him?” Temblor inquired sharply as if I were not there.

“I did.” No explanation, no excuses.

“You are satisfied with his competence?”

“I am satisfied with his potential.” Which was not the same thing.

Now the Witch turned to me, catching my eye. Suddenly she became a lovely young sprite with flowing knee-length hair and a dress made of green leaves that hardly concealed her remarkable curves. Her face would launch a thousand ships. But I had no hint of her Name; this was incidental illusion, not solid magic.

“He will do.” Temblor departed.

Nonce sank back as if released from an ogre's grip. “That's a relief.”

“You weren't that sure she'd approve me,” I said.

“I thought she would, but there was doubt. Now we're on.”

“You could have seduced me without love. You didn't. That impressed her?”

“Yes. But she'd have vetoed you in an instant if she hadn't verified your potential.”

“How did she verify it? I never picked up her Name.”

“She verified it through my mind.”

“Ah. Bypassing my mind, so as to protect hers.”

“We are not amateurs,” Nonce said half ruefully.

“Do we have information on suspects?”

“Yes. Now that you've been approved, I can share it with you.” She brought out a folder with files similar to those I had seen in the Warlock's office. “There's his business associate, his mistress, his—”

“Mistress? I thought you told me he was gay.”

“He maintained appearances. She shares a small apartment with her brother. When they went there she kept watch while he made out with the brother. The siblings were very good at keeping secrets. She could answer questions that only a lover would know.”

“Go on.”

“His leading client. No one else was close enough to him to have managed the killing. Except me.”

“So that's four for me to interview: associate, client, mistress, brother.”

“And all are innocent, as I'm sure you will verify.”

“But if no one else was close enough—”

“That's the mystery. I don't see how he could have been murdered.”

I thought of something. “It is possible he's not dead? That he faked his own murder, so as to get away from it all?”

“No. I would have known. I was close enough to have a bit of telepathic rapport, and I felt him die. He is definitely dead.”

“I will have to think about this.”

She did not argue with me, but moved on efficiently. “Meanwhile, you'd better see the Vampire Chief. We have time today. I have his name and address.”

I felt a cold clutch in my gizzard. I didn't much like Vampires. “I don't suppose you are personally acquainted?”