Masked Desire Read online

  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.

  Chapter 4

  Michaela eyed Cormac with veiled resentment. It had been a long and tiresome day and having Cormac shadow her every move had not helped. True to his promise, he had stayed out of the way, but his obtrusively unobtrusive lurking had been more distracting than if he had taken part in the interrogations. Every time she’d looked up, she’d been confronted by his bright green, then brown, then dark green eyes watching her every move with a disconcerting intensity, as though he was stripping her to her very soul. She’d done her best to ignore it.

  Michaela ran her hand quickly over her hair, tucking in loose strands as she glanced down her list and fixed the neatness of one of the lines. The councilor interviews had been frustrating. To her mind, having to waste time discussing their relationships with Hiro was also useless since she was almost certain she was the intended victim. She’d said as much to Madden after the council meeting.

  “He was found in my office,” she’d said. “You know what the Dawning has threatened to do to me.”

  “You promised me that our security here was tight.”

  “It is, but it doesn’t prevent someone on Pharos from acting on their behalf.”

  “Yet you are alive and Hiro is dead,” he’d said. “I need to you to focus on the man who’s dead. It may not be about you.”

  As if she was such a narcissist. The stress of running Pharos was getting to Madden. His temper had been short for the last few months and although she’d not commented on his new attitude towards her, it had hurt. For years, Madden had been one of the few people she’d regarded as a compass—wise with experience and generous with advice.

  She sighed, suspecting she’d outgrown him as a mentor. Perhaps he knew it too.

  She thumbed through her notes as Cormac guzzled down water. Every councilor they had spoken to had an alibi, or an alibi of sorts. Cormac had been seen at breakfast. The witches had been at a Zumba class. One of the werewomen had been with her alpha, while the other had a dentist’s appointment.

  “This room is grim,” observed Cormac from his seat near the wall as he put down the empty glass. Michaela had commandeered an empty office space for her interviews. “Like tedium came to life with a career in interior decoration.”

  “It’s a meeting room. Cover it with one of your fey glamours if it bothers you so much.”

  His arched eyebrows rose high. “We usually only glamour ourselves.”

  “Like you did to hide from Nadia?” The young vampire had been furious Cormac had hoodwinked her and had blamed everyone and everything except her own inattentiveness.

  He leaned back and crossed his arms. Michaela kept her gaze up and away from the very unprofessional observation of noticing how good his biceps looked. For a lean man, Cormac was impressively muscular. “Is that what she told you? Sorry. She was simply unobservant. It would be a crime to glamour myself. How would people admire me?”

  “Arrogance.” Not that it wasn’t well-deserved. Cormac was a very striking male, though his appalling personality negated any attraction his tall body and chiseled features might have had. Or his broad shoulders and muscled thighs. She’d noticed, but that was to be expected. As a masquerada, she always closely observed people’s physical appearance; it meant nothing.

  “Truth.” He sat down and settled down in the chair, fiddling with a pen. “We aren’t all thieves, you
know.” He sounded amused.

  She hid her surprise. “I didn’t say you were.”

  Cormac snorted. “Right. You looked at my hands and tapped your jacket pocket. Your keys are safe.”

  “How do you know I have keys there?”

  “They leave a bulge and jangle. Like a dungeon keeper.” He made a gesture of twisting a key. “You know, we still haven’t discussed your alibi.”

  No, they hadn’t. She ignored him and checked her watch. “Rendell is on his way.”

  “Rendell is always late. Where were you this morning before you arrived here?”

  She was the one in charge, thought Michaela furiously. “None of your business. You may have someone to vouch for you, but I still want to know about your dealings with Hiro.”

  He leaned forward. “First you. I repeat: Where were you when Hiro died?”

  Michaela smiled and looked him in the eye. “This is not your investigation.”

  “Nor is it completely yours. No one will be so crude as to say it aloud, but the reason you have a Watcher is because deep inside their nasty little souls, your colleagues all think you did it.”

  “At least they have souls,” she snapped. Not the best comeback, especially since the fey absence of soul was still a matter of debate. You’re getting too involved. Step back. It had been a long time since someone had managed to get under her skin the way Cormac could without even trying.

  “Where were you?” His eyes didn’t leave hers and despite herself, Michaela was impressed. Cormac had a commanding presence that made him an intimidating interviewer. She straightened her back. She had faced worse than an exiled fey.

  The heavy silence filled the room and Michaela settled herself to wait him out.

  “You could be the killer,” he said. “In fact, you are the most likely killer.”

  She yawned and paged through her notes. “Tell me about your deals with Hiro,” she said.

  “Of course, whatever alibi you could give would be close to meaningless,” he said thoughtfully. “It could be anyone in your masque.”

  “You and Hiro?”

  “I’ll tell you about Hiro if you give me your alibi.”

  Michaela smiled. “So tell me.”

  “I had a meeting with him at ten this morning,” Cormac said promptly. “Or would have.”

  “What about?” She had to ask even though she doubted his honesty. Cormac could protest against the fey reputation for thievery all he wanted, but no one in their right mind would believe a word out of one’s mouth. They were golden-tongued, renowned liars and storytellers.

  “A forest. I was negotiating for the rights to one of his forests in northern Japan.”

  “Why?” The fey had plenty of forest. “What made this one so special?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a lovely place, worthy of the queen. I thought she would enjoy it.”

  Michaela regarded him. Gratuitous generosity was not a fey trait. “You mean give it to Tismelda so she’ll reverse your exile.”

  “That’s one part of it, certainly,” he said smoothly. “Humans are encroaching on the area. All that beauty will be gone in a human generation without protection.”

  She had to admit this was reasonable. The fey were fanatical about keeping woodland, even though their primary abodes were in their own realm. If that was true, then it would have been in Cormac’s best interest to keep Hiro alive. If it was true.

  “Are you done, Inquisitor?” His gaze was mocking but she noticed that his eyes lingered on her lips. “Ready to keep your end of the bargain?”

  “I made no bargain,” she said. “Now be silent. I hear Rendell.”

  He sputtered as he realized that she hadn’t committed to the deal he’d offered but took a seat with ill-grace as Rendell thrust the door open and entered with a slow and languid elegance that made her feel lumpy and bumbling. The fey often had this effect on other arcana. As he passed Cormac, she compared the two. There were similarities, to be certain. All fey had a particular puckishness to their features. In Rendell, it came out in a strangely gleeful expression as if laughing at a cruel joke. Cormac had a bit of the same but without the underlying nastiness. On him, it showed in the occasional wicked and knowing smile that swept across his face like a cool wind.

  Rendell brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his spotless silver-gray suit. “I keep thinking of Hiro. Poor man. Such pain.”

  The words were right, but Rendell’s voice was thick with a horrible excitement. He kept talking. “You saw him. Were the cuts deep? Were the blood drops like rubies on his skin?”

  Michaela barely avoided rolling her eyes at his blatant attempt to shock her but Cormac growled. “Why don’t you tell us?” he asked.

  “Cormac.” Her voice carried a warning.

  Rendell’s eyes flickered over him, deliberately dismissive, before turning back to Michaela. “Should we be frightened? Can you protect us all?” He licked his lips.

  It only took her seconds to decide how to deal with him. “You’ve nothing to be afraid of,” she said in her chirpiest voice, patterned after the most irritatingly cheerful barista she knew. “We think the attacker is only targeting important Pharos members.”

  Rendell laughed. “Charming, Michaela. You know, of course, that unlike you, I have no reason to kill Hiro. Or any human for that matter, although Oksana is so irritating she should be exterminated on principle.”

  She caught Cormac leaning forward as if to say something and shot him such a look that he held up his hands in mock surrender.

  “You were seen speaking to him in the library several days ago,” she said to Rendell.

  “Perhaps. I speak to many of my colleagues.”

  Investigations would go so much better if she only had to deal with things and not people. “What did you discuss?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Let me help jog your memory. You were overheard talking about money. Quite a vast sum.”

  Rendell yawned and cast his eyes up to the ceiling in an exaggeratedly theatrical attempt at recollection. “Now it comes back to me. He offered me some land, a forest. I have plenty and declined, but he was extremely pushy. I told him I’d think about it.”

  “What land?” asked Michaela. Across the room, Cormac’s eyes were trained on Rendell but he remained silent.

  “A Japanese mountain, or some such thing.”

  Japan. Michaela kept her focus on Rendell. “Northern Japan?”

  “Now that you mention it, yes.” He smirked. “Did he offer it to you, too?”

  “I don’t need a forest.”

  “Oksana says Hiro’s death is a violation of the Law, you know.” Rendell cocked his head to the side, then crossed his legs. “Is she right?”

  “Human councilors are outside the Law,” she said. “Obviously, since they need to know of arcane existence.”

  “The Law and the peace it brought hangs by a thread.” Rendell’s comment made Michaela wonder how much of his attitude was simply show. The Law that governed all arcana and hid them from human view had worked for the last seven hundred years and, on the surface, still seemed to be working. Rendell was one of the first Michaela had heard openly admit to the potentially devastating cracks that were forming underneath.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Hiro is one of only two humans on the council. If I were Oksana, I would be very worried indeed.”

  “An interesting theory.” She had an inkling of where this was going but would let him say it.

  “Didn’t the masquerada have a little problem with humans recently? Franz Iverson?”

  She didn’t bite. “All the arcane groups have a love-hate relationship with humans, not only the masquerada.”

  Rendell gave her a nasty smile. “Last time I checked, the fey weren’t the ones trying to, oh, dominate the world and
subjugate humanity.”

  Deep breath. “That was one twisted man’s thinking.” Franz Iverson had not made them many friends by declaring humans were at the bottom of a pyramid of worth that placed the masquerada alone at the top. While most arcana would agree with humans at the base, they disagreed vehemently about having masquerada at the apex.

  “One?” Rendell examined Michaela with his pale blue eyes. “We all know how hard it’s been for you to take control of your insubordinate groups. I doubt he was the only believer.”

  He winked at her and swept out of the room, a king ending an audience with a supplicant.

  Once he was gone, Cormac scowled, his jaw tense. “Does that worm bother you?”

  “I’m not interested in your petty rivalry.”

  “Petty? No. Rendell is one of the queen’s pets and he has even less morality than most fey. Stay clear of him.”

  “It’s my investi—”

  He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made her heart beat faster. Attracted to Cormac? Impossible. “Michaela. I know you can take care of yourself. I give you only a warning about an individual of whom I have more experience than you.”

  She listened now. It was difficult to find accurate information about the fey. “What do you mean?”

  “Rendell is the queen’s master torturer. He enjoys his work.”

  She blanched. “That’s barbaric.” The masquerada had abandoned torture decades ago. Arcane groups didn’t interfere in each other’s internal discipline, but such practices still came in for a good amount of superior tut-tutting.

  “That is how the fey court works.” Cormac yawned as if this was normal. “He did bring up a good point, however.”

  “I don’t recall asking your opinion.”