Читать книгу Masked Desire - Alana Delacroix - Страница 9

Chapter 3

Cormac swept into the council boardroom, bidding farewell to his bitter little security shadow at the threshold with a big, eat-shit smile and wave that nearly made her head explode. He would have felt pity for the vampire had she not treated him like a prisoner. She wanted to play? Then she’d learn to lose.

Speaking of losing, he wondered if Michaela had enjoyed her visit from Oksana. Judging from the expression of utter disdain she leveled at him across the table, he thought not.

Excellent. They were even.

Michaela opened her laptop and began to tap away, busy organizing some bloody list or another. In the time they’d been councilors together, he’d never seen her without one. Lists, plans, strategies, all laid out and ready to be plugged in and presented, with appropriately colored graphs, at a moment’s notice. He wouldn’t be surprised if underneath her flesh were Excel spreadsheets.

How dreary, to spend one’s life mapping out the entire journey to prevent any surprises or wrong turns. So safe. So boring.

The other Pharos masquerada, Baptiste, slid into the tufted velvet green chair beside Michaela and the two chatted in low voices. Unable to eavesdrop, Cormac glanced around the room. The Toronto headquarters were not as chic as some of the other locations—the Cairene building in particular came to mind—but it was the most comfortable. Cormac liked it, and he enjoyed the city. Toronto had enough green space that he could soak in the energy all fey needed without going out of his way. Too much concrete destroyed his ability to focus—as well as being hideous. He winced. Truly, humans had an innate ability to kill every enchanting thing in their realm. They were parasites.

Of course, the arcana seated around the table would probably have done the same thing. Pharos had representatives from all the major arcane groups, two each from the fey, masquerada, witch, warlock, vampire, and were. The lithu seats were vacant, as their people had not attended a meeting since the Pharos was established seven hundred years ago. Other, smaller groups, such as ghouls, were called in when necessary to canvas their opinion.

Then there was him, the special one. Cormac had managed to wrangle his position from the previous council head after coming into possession of some fascinating information about the warlock’s personal life, but it meant nothing. He had no vote, and no say. The only thing it did was keep him busy enough to avoid insanity, allow for a little intrigue, and ensure he knew at least some of what was going on in the arcane world. It was amusing, and provided an anchor in an otherwise untethered existence. In the endless years of his banishment, Pharos had ended up being the only place where he could return and see familiar, if not necessarily friendly, faces after each of his haphazard journeys.

Rendell and Drina, the two fey councilors, came into the room talking animatedly. Since they refused to speak to Cormac, a dishonored exile, he didn’t bother to greet them.

“I heard he wanted to be mated but she refused,” Rendell said. Cormac listened shamelessly. Information was always valuable.

Also, he wanted to know who they were gossiping about. The fey took mating so seriously that he knew very few who had taken the step. Not even his parents had been mated. Like most, they preferred the much less intense legal partnership.

Drina’s lilting voice carried from down the table. “That’s why she left, then. I’d refuse too. Who in their right mind would risk mating?”

Cormac mentally shuddered at the thought of the mating bond. Bond was the right word—mating resulted in an unbreakable union as appealing as being roped to a dying tree. The two fey councilors changed subjects before revealing who the poor lovelorn bastard was. Cormac caught Michaela’s gaze and for a moment had the singular sensation they were the only ones in the room. His hands instinctively sought the wooden hand rests of his chair before pulling back to lay on his thighs. It had been centuries since he’d allowed himself to link with any aspect of the dolma, the natural world. That connection would have exposed him as one of the outlawed caintir, a risk too great to take and a secret he’d buried deep in his heart.

Michaela broke their glance and a pang of disappointment surprised him. She was too rule-bound for his tastes, attractive though she was. Paradoxically, she was also one of the reasons he continued to return to the Council from his journeys. She was always…Michaela. Whether he’d been gone for a week or a year, she was always the first Pharos member he’d seek out, knowing that when he saw her she would be dressed in the same neat black outfit with her hair tied back in a smooth bun. In her hands would be her laptop or a notebook. She was a small slice of security in this world and he’d come to crave that unchanging support.

Ironic that it was a masquerada who had provided him with that sense of ageless permanence.

That she didn’t like him was moot. Few did. Despite her many flaws, he liked her.

Well, admired.

Fine. Lusted after. After all, she was stunning, even if she had the emotional capacity of a marigold.

“Let’s get started.”

Madden’s deep voice drew Cormac’s attention. Michaela glanced back at Cormac and shook her head slightly as though forcing herself out of a dream. She laid her hands on the varnished oak table and sat still with her head tilted down.

They were back in the council room, tainted by murder.

Cormac leaned back to enjoy what he anticipated would be a very interesting meeting. The air almost vibrated with the ghoulish curiosity of the councilors. Madden sat down at the head of the table and nodded to Oksana. “We will find the one who killed your counterpart,” he said. “We stand with you in your grief.”

A murmur went around the table and Cormac hid a smile. Few, if any, of the arcana muttering their condolences cared if Hiro was dead. Hypocrisy and politics were eager bedmates. Down the table, Baptiste rolled his eyes.

“I will grieve for Hiro when his killer is found.” Oksana kept her voice steady.

Madden nodded with approval. “This seems like a good time to hear from Michaela.”

The security chief’s findings were meager. Beyond knowing Hiro had been killed and how, there was little to tell. There were no fingerprints or a murder weapon. Her office, like all of them, was spelled to ensure privacy, which meant that neither witches nor warlocks could be called in to raise Hiro’s spirit and question it.

“We’re investigating and will be speaking to each of you today,” Michaela finished. “I know you’ll be happy to cooperate.” Her dark eyes lingered in turn on each individual but deliberately passed over Cormac. He grinned at the stab, subtler than he thought Michaela capable of.

However, she was still no match for one raised in the Lilac Court. Time to get this show going. “Michaela. Let’s discuss the political angle of Hiro’s death.”

Madden answered before Michaela could. “What do you mean, Special Ambassador Cormac Redoak?”

Cormac ignored the deliberate use of his formal title—Madden’s attempt to remind him he had no real role on the Council—and continued to address Michaela. “There are many suspects.”

“Are you making an accusation?” Michaela glanced up at him with deliberate unconcern. “Because now would be an ideal time to share whatever information you have.”

“Accusation is a harsh word. Hiro was a man with a strong mind and many ideas. His killer could be anyone.” He looked pointedly around the table and for fun paused at Pilar, one of the two vampires. “Any one of us.”

The table erupted into predictable outrage. Pilar and her compatriot Abdul both leapt to their feet, fangs bared. Cormac leaned back with his hands behind the back of his neck in a pose that reeked of unconcern and smiled at them. This was going better than he’d expected. The vampires were such a beautifully touchy bunch.

“Ambassador.” Madden’s voice cut through the din. “Explain yourself.”

“Michaela is an excellent security chief but I am concerned at the potential for bias in the investigation.”

Michaela changed the grip on her pen. “Bias? Mine?”

As tempting as it was, he decided against leaving a pregnant pause that would doubtless send the council right over the edge. He didn’t want this to devolve into a yelling match before he achieved his goal. “Naturally not. However, you are an active council member. Hiro was in your office. Killed in your office, I may add. Your locked office.”

Baptiste, the other masquerada councilor, rose to his feet with a vicious scowl and Michaela waved him back down to his seat with a casual gesture. “These are all accurate. However, Hiro had a key to my office that we found next to the body. How he obtained it is one of the questions we need to answer.”

Cormac let the heavy silence say what he didn’t need to. That the councilors thought Michaela was the most likely killer was clear.

Pilar, the vampire, knocked the table for attention. “The masquerada are the only ones who are openly anti-human,” she said pointedly.

“That may be so, but I personally am not.” Michaela’s gaze was unblinking.

“Redoak, is there a point to all of this?” Madden spoke to Cormac, but watched Michaela.

Cormac paused to make sure all ears were on him. “I offer myself as Watcher.”

A dumbfounded silence filled the room, broken finally by Michaela.

“A Watcher is not required.” Her words were untroubled. Her icy glance said, You bloody bastard.

“Aye, it is,” Cormac said casually. “As I made very obvious. Shall I go over it again? Hiro is dead. In your office. Only months after the masquerada tried to destroy the Law and enslave humanity.” He smiled inwardly, pleased to have gained a point over her for sending him to his office like a child.

A slight quiver shook Michaela. Had he finally managed to get under her skin? Years of delicate needling and all it took was a public accusation of murder. Perhaps she would lose control and unconsciously take on a new masque right there in the boardroom, a lapse of etiquette that would demonstrate a stunning lack of discipline. Baptiste laid a hand on Michaela’s arm and both masquerada gave Cormac an identical glower.

Across the table, Abdul cleared his throat. “As much as it pains me to agree with anything Redoak says, he may have a point. In all our years, we’ve never had a councilor murdered in our own headquarters. It may be best, given the circumstances.” He nodded to Michaela. “A Watcher is meant to protect the investigators.”

She swept the table with a cool smile. “Our protection is sufficient.” Cormac gave her a long, slow wink that she ignored. Abdul was correct in his interpretation of how the role was intended but Cormac gave zero fucks about intention. He needed to be close to the investigation to see if Hiro’s death was related to the sale of his forest.

“I agree with Abdul.” Madden tapped the table harder. “This is a special case but it will be noted that the assignment of Ambassador Redoak as Watcher is in no way a comment on Michaela’s competence or culpability.”

“Agreed.” The word rose as a chorus, even from his fey compatriots. Cormac accidentally caught Rendell’s eye but as always, his rival deliberately looked right through him. The cut direct had been perfected by fey at the Lilac Court, where the protocol of manners had reached a ridiculous degree, and Rendell was acclaimed as one of its most skilled practitioners. Cormac expected nothing more from him. Nor did he want anything but for Rendell to suffer a slow, painful, and preferably hideously disfiguring fatal illness. They had been on opposite sides of the war that had resulted in the deaths of his parents and mentor, and Cormac’s subsequent banishment. While Rendell had not been the one to deliver the blows, his unwavering support of Tismelda had made them permanent enemies.

After a few more instructions, the councilors filtered out, leaving only Madden, Cormac, and Michaela. Michaela leaned over to Madden, murmuring in a voice low enough that Cormac couldn’t hear more than her inflections. Madden listened, frowned and gave a sharp shake of his head before he replied, then took his leave. Michaela stared after him until Cormac sat on the table beside her. “Interesting conversation?”

She stood with a deliberate, slow movement and stood away from the chair. “You son of a bitch.”

Considering what he’d done to her, Cormac considered this mild.

He crossed his arms. “It’s necessary and you know it. One wrong step and this council will be in chaos. Madden should have suggested it right away.”

“You didn’t do this out of altruism.” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s in it for you?”

He ignored that. “Hiro was killed in your office. What does that tell you?”

“I search for evidence before conjecture.”

He brushed away this typically pompous masquerada response. “Then you’re a fool. Hiro was either waiting for you or trying to break into your files. Either way, it’s bad for you, isn’t it? Do you even have an alibi?”

“We’ll examine the scene to find the answer.” He noted that she ignored his last question. No alibi. “We need more information. That’s my job. Not yours. You can watch all you want, but stay out of my team’s way. Stay out of my way. Am I understood?”

The security chief stared up at him with glowing black eyes. With her cheeks flushed and lips red from where she’d pressed them, she looked like she’d been tumbled in bed.

She resembled a woman and not a statue.

Well, he’d been in trouble with beautiful women before. Best to let her get her temper out quickly so they could move on.

He gave her a mocking salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“This is not necessary.”

He smiled broadly. Getting a response out of Michaela, minor as it was, was more pleasurable than he anticipated. “You mean you don’t like it. And it doesn’t matter.”

Cormac remained a step behind as he followed Michaela back to her office crime scene. When she opened the door, her deputy and investigation team looked up at her, then him.

“The council has appointed Ambassador Redoak as Watcher,” she announced. “It’s only because of the political sensitivity of this case. Pharos has full confidence in your work and integrity. The ambassador will in no way interfere with you or the investigation.” Her tone said that she would gut him if he even tried.

None of them answered, but their expressions were easy enough to read. Cormac gave a jaunty bow. One thing the Lilac Court had taught him was the value of appearing indifferent to hostility. Not that he was offended by their animosity, but it was good to show he had a tough hide.

Michaela ignored him as she wound through the close quarters of the office speaking to her people. Cormac regarded the empty chair where Hiro’s body had been as the team went back to work. Death was bad enough, but to be stabbed in the back was such an ignominious way to go. It was also a cowardly way to kill.

Who owned that forest in Japan now that Hiro was dead? Tismelda would soften the moment he could present her with that beautiful land, and then it was only a matter of time until she reversed his exile. He touched his pendant, knowing that each day he remained in this realm, away from Yetting Hill, was another day his forest had to die.

When the forest died, so would he and his sister.

The fading leaf told him it was time to put aside pride. He’d tell the queen he’d learned his lesson. Once home, he could connect with his land and become a proper steward again. He could protect Isindle from the queen’s many small biting cruelties. I can stand up for myself, brother. The memory of his sister’s exasperation made him smile. She was correct. On her own since his exile, and now a full-fledged mage, Isindle was strong enough to deal with the Lilac Court. Yet he was eldest and she would always be his responsibility. Isindle might be a mage, but the girl-fey he remembered was soft-hearted and kind, no match for Queen Tismelda.

Michaela sighed and rose to her feet. “Keep working,” she ordered her team. “I’m going to start talking to the councilors.”

“Good luck,” someone mumbled.

“Thanks.” She swung open the door and left as though Cormac didn’t exist. He shook his head as he followed. It would take more than common rudeness to turn him off his job.

She had no idea what was at stake for him. None at all.