Fire Me Up
Page 48
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
"No, It was not the type of their sexual relations that I find curious."
I blinked a couple of times and waited for Monish to finish.
"It was the amount."
"Amount?"
His skin was too dark to see if he blushed or not, but his gaze did drop to his notes. "Each Guardian had evidently participated in several sexual acts the evening and morning of her death. The best estimate, based on the physical evidence left behind, is that each of them participated twelve times."
"TWELVE TIMES?" I yelped, my eyes all but bugging out of my head. "You're joking, aren't you? Twelve times? That's impossible! I mean, twice is pushing it, and three times makes you sore, but twelve times is just downright impossible! Even if they wanted to, where on earth are you going to find a guy who can ... you know. .. twelve times? Wait—the physical evidence— was that male or female evidence?"
Monish looked extremely uncomfortable. "Male. Even allowing for variations in quantity, the best-guess estimate is twelve incidents."
"Holy cats," I said, crossing my legs in sympathy for the two women. "So in other words, what you're saying is that they were sexed to death."
"It is believed that the stress of so much intense physical activity is responsible for their deaths."
I dragged my mind away from what sort of man had the ability to ejaculate twelve times in the span of a night and moved to what was uppermost in my mind. "You're leaving out something important."
Both men nodded. "Your mind is as quick as I knew it would be, given the Paris reports," Monish said. "One of the watch acquired a sample of evidence from both bodies. It matches."
I shook my head, not to dispute what he was saying, but because I just didn't believe it. "What man can go at it twelve times with a woman, killing her but leaving him just fine and dandy, and then repeat the whole process with another woman the next night?"
"One who is not mortal," Monish said. He plucked the file from my hands and began to gather up his things.
"That pretty much goes without saying. What I don't understand is how you can show this to your committee and they can think I have something to do with the deaths. Surely I lack the obvious equipment."
His eyebrows rose at my flip tone. "They do not believe you directly caused the deaths of the Guardians, Aisling, but they do very much believe that the killer was either summoned by you or drawn to your proximity involuntarily."
I started to protest my innocence, but the memory of the night I had been swarmed by incubi flitted through my mind. I hadn't summoned them, yet they appeared. I couldn't help but wonder what an incubus's stamina was like—that, and whether or not they left physical traces of themselves.
"We're just going to have to agree to disagree on that point," I said. "What exactly do you expect me to do? You guys are investigating this, so I don't see where I come in."
"You have powers that the watch does not. You have the ability to see things that are hidden from us. We will continue to investigate the murders as best we can, but we are limited in scope. That is why the committee agreed to not pursue their course of action with you— they recognize that although you have the power to raise the being that killed the Guardian, if you are innocent, you also have the power to discover the source and identity of that being." He paused, sending me a hard, unbending look. "If you wish to have a future in the L'au-dela, Aisling, I urge you to use every means possible to locate the murderer. Quickly. The committee is not known for their patience."
The two men stood, and after wishing me well and giving me a cell phone number where he could be contacted at any time of the day, Monish left, Paolo trailing after him.
The door to the conference room closed with an almost silent shush.
I sat alone, fingering the amulet, wondering just how the hell I was supposed to find a sex fiend murderer when I couldn't even do something as simple as deliver an old piece of crystal or find a mentor without running into trouble.
At least Paolo hadn't divined anything horrible for me in the near future, At least he hadn't—
I turned at the sound of the door clicking open. Paolo stuck his head in. "You will befriend a pigeon while contemplating plunging to your death."
"I've got something important to tell you," I told Drake as I rushed past Pal, who was holding the door open for me. I'd forgotten to take the room key he'd left for me earlier.
Drake, clad in an absolutely mouthwatering long green tunic that shimmered with a faint gold pattern every time he moved, cocked a glossy black eyebrow at me and silently looked at the clock.
"It's just now seven, so you can stop giving me that annoying male 'waiting for a woman who's always late' look."
"I said we needed to leave at seven." Drake's lips pursed ever so slightly as he let his gaze wander down me.
"Yes, I'm going to change, hut what I have to tell you is important."
"You say green dragons not important?" Istvan asked in a belligerent tone. He moved to stand beside Drake. Both Pal and Istvan were dressed similarly to Drake, in long forest green tunics and matching pants, but the material on their clothes was different, minus the faint, elusive gold pattern in the cloth of Drake's.
"No, I don't mean that. All I'm saying is—oh, all right! I'll go change and tell you in the car."
I had brought one formal dress along with me for the ending banquet, which the GODTAM registration packet had said was black tie. My dress was a simple black matte floor-length sheath, nothing terribly fancy but of sturdy travel material. It was not the dress I found laid out on the bed along with a pair of stiletto heels that I knew just by looking at them would probably cripple at least three toes on each foot.
I thought at first the dress was black, but closer inspection revealed it to be a dark, dark green-black. Even draped over the bed, the lines of it made my mouth water. A simple, elegant ballerina bodice flowed down into a long, sweeping chiffon formal-length skirt, the bodice heavy with an intricate beaded vine embroidery. The tiny little beads swept serpentine paths down the skirt, causing the whole thing to glitter and sparkle with a thousand little green lights as I held it in my hands.
I had to give Drake credit—the man knew how to pick clothes.
When I emerged from the bedroom, he didn't even comment on the fact that I was now twenty-four minutes late. He just rose slowly from an armchair, his head tipped to one side as he looked me over. A long finger tapped his lips for a moment, then he drew a little circle in the air.
I blinked a couple of times and waited for Monish to finish.
"It was the amount."
"Amount?"
His skin was too dark to see if he blushed or not, but his gaze did drop to his notes. "Each Guardian had evidently participated in several sexual acts the evening and morning of her death. The best estimate, based on the physical evidence left behind, is that each of them participated twelve times."
"TWELVE TIMES?" I yelped, my eyes all but bugging out of my head. "You're joking, aren't you? Twelve times? That's impossible! I mean, twice is pushing it, and three times makes you sore, but twelve times is just downright impossible! Even if they wanted to, where on earth are you going to find a guy who can ... you know. .. twelve times? Wait—the physical evidence— was that male or female evidence?"
Monish looked extremely uncomfortable. "Male. Even allowing for variations in quantity, the best-guess estimate is twelve incidents."
"Holy cats," I said, crossing my legs in sympathy for the two women. "So in other words, what you're saying is that they were sexed to death."
"It is believed that the stress of so much intense physical activity is responsible for their deaths."
I dragged my mind away from what sort of man had the ability to ejaculate twelve times in the span of a night and moved to what was uppermost in my mind. "You're leaving out something important."
Both men nodded. "Your mind is as quick as I knew it would be, given the Paris reports," Monish said. "One of the watch acquired a sample of evidence from both bodies. It matches."
I shook my head, not to dispute what he was saying, but because I just didn't believe it. "What man can go at it twelve times with a woman, killing her but leaving him just fine and dandy, and then repeat the whole process with another woman the next night?"
"One who is not mortal," Monish said. He plucked the file from my hands and began to gather up his things.
"That pretty much goes without saying. What I don't understand is how you can show this to your committee and they can think I have something to do with the deaths. Surely I lack the obvious equipment."
His eyebrows rose at my flip tone. "They do not believe you directly caused the deaths of the Guardians, Aisling, but they do very much believe that the killer was either summoned by you or drawn to your proximity involuntarily."
I started to protest my innocence, but the memory of the night I had been swarmed by incubi flitted through my mind. I hadn't summoned them, yet they appeared. I couldn't help but wonder what an incubus's stamina was like—that, and whether or not they left physical traces of themselves.
"We're just going to have to agree to disagree on that point," I said. "What exactly do you expect me to do? You guys are investigating this, so I don't see where I come in."
"You have powers that the watch does not. You have the ability to see things that are hidden from us. We will continue to investigate the murders as best we can, but we are limited in scope. That is why the committee agreed to not pursue their course of action with you— they recognize that although you have the power to raise the being that killed the Guardian, if you are innocent, you also have the power to discover the source and identity of that being." He paused, sending me a hard, unbending look. "If you wish to have a future in the L'au-dela, Aisling, I urge you to use every means possible to locate the murderer. Quickly. The committee is not known for their patience."
The two men stood, and after wishing me well and giving me a cell phone number where he could be contacted at any time of the day, Monish left, Paolo trailing after him.
The door to the conference room closed with an almost silent shush.
I sat alone, fingering the amulet, wondering just how the hell I was supposed to find a sex fiend murderer when I couldn't even do something as simple as deliver an old piece of crystal or find a mentor without running into trouble.
At least Paolo hadn't divined anything horrible for me in the near future, At least he hadn't—
I turned at the sound of the door clicking open. Paolo stuck his head in. "You will befriend a pigeon while contemplating plunging to your death."
"I've got something important to tell you," I told Drake as I rushed past Pal, who was holding the door open for me. I'd forgotten to take the room key he'd left for me earlier.
Drake, clad in an absolutely mouthwatering long green tunic that shimmered with a faint gold pattern every time he moved, cocked a glossy black eyebrow at me and silently looked at the clock.
"It's just now seven, so you can stop giving me that annoying male 'waiting for a woman who's always late' look."
"I said we needed to leave at seven." Drake's lips pursed ever so slightly as he let his gaze wander down me.
"Yes, I'm going to change, hut what I have to tell you is important."
"You say green dragons not important?" Istvan asked in a belligerent tone. He moved to stand beside Drake. Both Pal and Istvan were dressed similarly to Drake, in long forest green tunics and matching pants, but the material on their clothes was different, minus the faint, elusive gold pattern in the cloth of Drake's.
"No, I don't mean that. All I'm saying is—oh, all right! I'll go change and tell you in the car."
I had brought one formal dress along with me for the ending banquet, which the GODTAM registration packet had said was black tie. My dress was a simple black matte floor-length sheath, nothing terribly fancy but of sturdy travel material. It was not the dress I found laid out on the bed along with a pair of stiletto heels that I knew just by looking at them would probably cripple at least three toes on each foot.
I thought at first the dress was black, but closer inspection revealed it to be a dark, dark green-black. Even draped over the bed, the lines of it made my mouth water. A simple, elegant ballerina bodice flowed down into a long, sweeping chiffon formal-length skirt, the bodice heavy with an intricate beaded vine embroidery. The tiny little beads swept serpentine paths down the skirt, causing the whole thing to glitter and sparkle with a thousand little green lights as I held it in my hands.
I had to give Drake credit—the man knew how to pick clothes.
When I emerged from the bedroom, he didn't even comment on the fact that I was now twenty-four minutes late. He just rose slowly from an armchair, his head tipped to one side as he looked me over. A long finger tapped his lips for a moment, then he drew a little circle in the air.
