Then my phone rang.
"It's too far for me to reach," I said. "Would you mind throwing that against the wall for me?"
He opened one eye. The phone continued to ring. Neither of us moved to get it, but when it stopped, I sighed and said, "I suppose we've had as much of a rest as we're going to get."
"It was a good rest. If not terribly restful."
I laughed. "Agreed."
Gabriel stretched under me. "I'm not intending to return Detective Fahy's call, but I do need to speak to Rose and Patrick, to see if Seanna has made contact. If you and Ricky want to handle Ioan, that might be a better division of efforts. I'll retrieve Pamela's file from the office and we can take that to Cainsville to discuss, in connection with your vision at the fun house."
"You have very kissable lips."
He laughed.
"Yes," I said. "You were talking. It was important. I shouldn't get distracted. But they're distracting. Have been for a while, which was very awkward. You'd be saying something important, and I'd be watching your lips and trying very hard not to think what it'd be like to stop you talking. For a minute. Or ten. So now I'm just going to randomly say that when the thought strikes."
He smiled and shook his head, in that way that said he suspected I was teasing him. "You do realize you're playing a dangerous game, stroking an ego that doesn't need the attention."
"Oh, I think it'll be fine." I slid my hands behind his head and leaned down to kiss him. His arms went around me and the kiss deepened, hands moving across bare skin, stroking, caressing, exploring.
"I'd better take it down a notch," I murmured between kisses. "I don't think you'll be up to...Oh, wait. Maybe? Mmm, yes. My mistake. Carry on."
PHONE ISSUES
When Gabriel's phone rang, he did not snarl at it. Did not need to fight the urge to hurl it into the wall. He simply opened one eye and waited for it to stop. When it did, he opened the other and looked down at Olivia, curled up in his arms.
He liked this. Liked it more than he would have imagined. The touching, the entwining, the closeness. The heat of her body, the smell of her skin, the soft whisper of her breathing, the pound of her heart. It made him feel...He wasn't sure what word fit best there. Secure? Comforted? Quieted? The choices all seemed odd, when applied to a lover. But he felt all that, curled up with her.
It was not dissimilar to the sense he used to get at the end of the day, when he closed the door and shut the world out and could just relax, be himself in his one safe spot. Something had been amiss, though, adding a restlessness and dissatisfaction that he'd never been able to pin down. Now he realized what it'd been. Loneliness. The sense that the only thing better than being alone would be to be with someone who made you feel as safe and comfortable as you did when you were alone.
He rose on his elbow to look down at Olivia. To savor the image of her in his bed. The realization of yet another fantasy he'd indulged in more times than he cared to recollect. It seemed an odd thing to fantasize about, compared to all the other, more active scenarios. But this was one of his, like seeing her wearing his shirt.
He'd had a taste of this particular fantasy already, letting her take his bed when she stayed the night. Again, he'd enjoyed that more than he ought to. There was a primitive quality to the fantasy, the idea that even if she'd been with Ricky, she'd been sleeping in his bed.
A little more proprietary than he should admit to. Not a sense of property, but a sense of place--that having Olivia in his bed said she held a spot in his life no one else could breach. She was important enough that he'd give up his most private sanctuary to her.
His phone started again. That did get a growl from him, less at the interruption than the reminder that it really was time to get up.
He eased Olivia aside, crawled from bed, and picked up his phone just before it went to voice mail. Only as he hit the Talk button did he see a number he didn't recognize and grunt, annoyed that he hadn't checked first. In that light, his greeting may have been even more curt than usual.
"Uh, sorry?" Ricky said. "Bad time?"
"No. I didn't recognize the number."
"Oh, right. Yeah. Phone issues. You know."
Gabriel did know. Or, rather, he did not know specifically, because he was not supposed to know specifics, only that, on his advice, at any time the Saints were doing particularly sensitive business, they switched to prepaid phones.
Ricky continued, "The new number might also explain why Liv didn't pick up. I've left messages. Is she okay?"
"We were visiting Todd earlier. She may have left her phone in the car."
Gabriel did not for a moment consider saying that Olivia was asleep in the middle of the day. That would have been cruel. Gabriel had seen Ricky's face when he spotted the discarded clothing in Olivia's parlor, and no matter how many times Ricky had assured him he'd be perfectly fine with whatever happened, his expression confirmed that "perfectly" was a gross exaggeration. Even "fine" might be overstating the matter.
"I presume you're calling to say you have business that won't allow you to speak to Ioan?" Gabriel said.
"Nah. That's all good. I'm just on call." Ricky paused. "Unless you'd rather speak to Ioan with Liv instead."
"No, I have other business to attend to. I can drop her off wherever you like. I'd only ask that you get her some lunch, before or after the meeting. She's had a busy day and hasn't eaten."
"I'll make sure she does. But who's going to make sure you do?"
"I'll be fine."
"Wrong answer." The sound of a door opening. "I'm in the city, running an errand for Wallace. How about I pick up lunch and swing by? You're at the office?"
"My apartment. I needed clothing because--"
"--the elders have grounded Liv. Right. I'll grab takeout and be there in thirty."
Thirty minutes did not allow both Gabriel and Olivia to shower and then dry their hair to erase the evidence that they'd bathed. Which led to Olivia making the perfectly rational suggestion that they share the shower. In her defense, she did seem to presume it would be uneventful, given the exertions of earlier. That was not the case, and Ricky was rapping at the door as she was finishing blow-drying her hair, his still wet. He towel-dried it as best he could before joining them in the dining room.
--
Lunch ended, and they were about to leave when Ricky said, "Shit," and "Can I talk to you a sec, Gabriel?"
"I'll get these dishes in the machine," Olivia said as she started clearing the table.
When she went into the kitchen, Ricky said, "I brought the bike. If you'd rather I picked up a car at my dad's--or you drive Liv to Ioan's--that's cool."
Gabriel understood the problem. As progressive as the Saints might be, they still held to the old traditions, one being that the woman riding on the back of a bike was sleeping with the guy on the front.
"That's fine with me," he said.
"You sure? I totally get it if you--"
"It's fine."
--
By the time Ricky and Olivia left, Gabriel was already on the phone, working through his own to-do list. Rose hadn't heard from Seanna. Neither had Patrick. Yet Gabriel could not be completely certain either was telling the truth, and he was considering what to do about this as he walked from his apartment and found two fae in his hallway. Two dryads, to be precise.
"We have solved the mystery," Alexios announced.
"Well, one of them," Helia said.
Gabriel closed the door behind him, his hand still on the knob. "While I'm glad to hear you've made progress, coming to my home is not the appropriate way to communicate it to me."
"How else were we supposed to tell you? Olivia forgot to leave us a phone number."
Gabriel suspected Olivia had not forgotten. She didn't trust them--understandable after their experiences with helpful fae. Nor did she quite seem to know what to make of them. They were far too flighty for Gabriel's tastes, but the Gwynn part of him understood that this was the way of dryads
and accepted it with only minor exasperation, as if they were cousins he would not choose as friends but would grant respect and consideration.
Yet that did not mean he wanted them at his home.
"My office address is listed," he said.
"It's Saturday," Helia said. "No one's there. We went by."
"There is a message service."
"You have an answer for everything, don't you, Gw-- Gabriel?"
"One would think you'd be pleased with our keen detective work," Alexios added. "Your home address is not listed. Finding it--and getting inside the building--wasn't easy."
"I will provide you with my cell phone number. Please use it."
"Next time. We have important news. We'll go inside and discuss it."
Helia nudged Alexios, subtly shook her head, and said, "That fancy car of yours is in the garage, right?"
"Yes, but--"
"We'll talk in there. While you drive."
"And where would I be driving?"
She grinned up at him. "To your mother, of course."
--
Gabriel did not blithely follow the dryads to his car. He and Olivia had been betrayed by two fae in the last few months, and both times he'd felt no more than the usual mistrust he did with 99.99 percent of the human population. He needed time to think this through and plan a safe course of action.
He told the dryads he had work to do at his office, and they could either wait for his call or accompany him. They seemed completely unperturbed by his lack of urgency regarding his mother. He suspected any urgency in their own lives was like that experienced by the average toddler--a sudden and burning need to have something right that moment...forgotten as soon as a distraction presented itself.
The dryads happily accompanied Gabriel to his office and then decided to play legal assistant while they waited, offering to file papers, answer e-mails, whatever task he might like to set them on. Again not unlike a small child who thinks household chores are great fun...for about five minutes. Gabriel put them to work tidying the supply closet. It seemed relatively harmless, and he wasn't about to turn down free labor.
On the drive over, he'd weighed his options. He did not consider refusing to follow up on the dryads' lead, no more than he or Olivia had ignored mysterious messages they had received, knowing they would almost certainly lead to a trap. It was rather like having an enemy invite you to tea--you know your Earl Grey will likely contain a lethal dose of arsenic, but if you refuse the invitation, he'll only find another method of attack, perhaps one you won't see coming.
The answer, then, was to take backup. The obvious and preferred choice was Olivia. Ricky ran a somewhat distant second. Yet both were off on an important task of their own, and Gabriel hated postponing a call to adventure. Which, perhaps, proved he shared more blood with the dryads than he cared to admit.
Gabriel weighed his choices. Then he made a call.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I hit the button on the remote for Ioan's gate, and we drove through. As I pulled off my helmet, Ricky looked at me and said, "You might want to pop your collar."
"Hey, if the biker doesn't pop his, I'm not popping mine. Also? We're thirty years past that fashion faux pas."
"Yeah, but it still comes in handy when you're sporting a hickey."
"What?" My hands flew to my neck, and I found the tender spot. "Shit. No, that's not-- I burned it. My hair wasn't cooperating, so I dragged out the curling iron."
"Gabriel has a curling iron?"
"No, I meant-- Damn it." I rooted through my bag for concealer. "I'm sorry. If I'd noticed, I'd have hidden it."
"I know." His lips twitched. "It is kinda funny, though, watching you guys scramble with excuses. Gabriel told me you weren't answering my calls because you forgot your phone in the car. Which is about as likely as you leaving your arm behind. He dried his hair so fast the back was sticking up. And then he scarfed down half the food I brought for lunch. I've never seen him eat like that." He smiled. "But I do appreciate he's being circumspect."
"He's not going to wave it in your face."
"No, but we are talking about Gabriel, who never goes out of his way to cushion anyone's feelings but yours. He's being very thoughtful. It's sweet. Just don't tell him I said that."
"I won't." I finished applying the concealer. "Better?"
"Yep." He leaned over for a better look and then stopped. "Is that a bite on your collarbone?"
"Shit! No. Damn it."
Ricky laughed as I frantically applied more makeup.
"I'm sorry. I'm really--"
"Stop. If it's not obvious, teasing you is my way of dealing with it. Honestly? I was afraid that part might be a disappointment for you. Because, well, it's Gabriel. In the four years he's been the Saints' lawyer, I've never known him to as much as date. But bad sex isn't going to make you come running back to me. It'd just make you less than totally happy with him. Happy is good. Hickeys are good. Even bite marks..." He shook his head. "Nope, not commenting on the bite mark. But at least now I know where that cut on his lip came from." He exhaled. "Can we change the conversation now?"
"Pretty sure I didn't start it. Or prolong it."
"Yeah, like I said, I'm trying to deal. But that's enough. Now, before we go in, let's take a minute, so you can tell me how you really feel about what your dad said."
--
Apparently, my makeup fix didn't hide the bruise enough to escape fae detection. Ioan's gaze went to it almost the second we were seated. He smiled. I was in his living room with Ricky, who'd been home from Miami less than twenty-four hours, and I show up bearing a sign that sex had been had. Obviously, we'd come to our senses and reconciled.
Fortunately, Ricky didn't notice. He was too busy giving Ioan shit for not telling me Todd had been the one to summon them. As my Cwn Annwn parent, though, Todd was their secondary champion, and Ioan had wanted to do nothing that might strain our relationship. I understood that.
Ricky told Ioan that if he wanted to win my favor, he should be a little more concerned with positioning himself as the side I could trust. And Ioan said nothing. Because Ricky was right. Even Brenin came in to watch, the alpha hound's gaze swiveling between Ioan and Ricky, watching and assessing.
Lloergan lay at Ricky's feet, giving Brenin a look that warned Ricky was hers. I smiled at that. There was no chance Brenin was considering a change of allegiance. He was just processing the fact that "his" alpha was listening to Ricky, which boosted the newcomer higher in the pack hierarchy.
After Ricky finished, I said to Ioan, "So who'd you make the deal with?" When Ioan didn't answer, I said, "The deal to cure me. You made it with the sluagh, didn't you?"
More silence.
Ricky looked at Ioan. "Did I just waste my breath? 'Cause I really feel like--"
"No, you didn't," Ioan said. "I'm framing my response in a way that explains, without seeming as if I'm attempting to dodge responsibility. Also, preferably, in a way that doesn't make me look like a complete idiot."
"You didn't know it was the sluagh," I said.
"In modern times, such deals are almost unheard-of. I had only been asked once before Todd, and in a situation I rejected without further investigation. Todd was different."
"When you heard I had spina bifida, you knew it was one of the possible side effects of fae blood. That's why you asked about my mother. You realized she was from a fae family in Cainsville. Add that to Todd's Cwn Annwn blood and I fit the criteria for Matilda."
"I'd heard rumors that a Matilda had been born, disabled. Which meant if I could help, I would. While a physical disability would not prevent you from playing your role, it would be easier if you weren't dealing with that challenge on top of the others. You would be safer having the full use of your legs."
"So, to make the deal, you contacted...?"
"That was the problem. Having never seriously considered such a deal, for me it was theoretical. Like a story passed down through generations. In that, I fear, I was litt
le different from your father, who only knew he had our blood through family legend. These deals are typically made with what human folklore calls Celtic deities and the Christian invaders labeled demons. They're more aptly called forces of nature. The Cwn Annwn work in their service--yet, like humans and their gods, it's a distant relationship of faith and service rather than a personal relationship."
"You can't just summon them for a chat."
"Exactly. If we wish to make contact, we must do so through a messenger. An ancient fae with a deep connection to the natural world--one so close to the end of life that he or she is already merging with nature and attuned to the will of those forces. I performed the ritual of contact. The next day, a fae answered my summons. I explained what I needed. She told me four sacrifices were required. She gave me their names, and when we visited them, we knew they would be righteous deaths."
"That's how you do it, then? How you determine guilt? It's a sense?"
"Not a sense, but a certainty. What's the saying? To see guilt written on a face? Sometimes we can access their memories, which is a power you seem to have inherited. Even when those memories are closed to us, guilt is as obvious as the color of their skin. In the case of the Tysons, we saw memories of their crime. With Hilton and Pasolini, we only knew they were guilty."
"Whatever they did, it's linked to the Tysons." I told him about the vision in the fun house. "Gabriel and I haven't had time to even begin investigating that. But it seems as if the Tysons, Hilton, and Pasolini were part of some group, some..."
"Cult?" Ricky said.
I made a face. "All the research I did into my parents' crimes taught me that ritual murderers and cultists are just idiots who've seen too many movies."
"Liv's right," Ioan said. "If these four thought they could summon dark forces with their sacrifices, it's just an excuse to exercise very dark and very twisted desires. They wanted to kill. Doing it in a ritual seemed more acceptable to them. A form of mob mentality, if you like."
"So Pamela was asked to execute four killers pursuing a single goal," I said. "The issue here, though, is who brought you that deal. The ancient fae. You presumed she was the messenger you'd summoned."