Born to Bite (28 page)

“Right,” Armand said with a shake of the head. “San Francisco.”

“By the way,” Anders added, tossing the gelatinous bag idly from one hand to the other and back, “he’s the one who set the shed on fire.”

“What?” Armand asked with shock.

Anders nodded. “He was controlled just like Mrs. Ramsey. The memories were veiled and hard to get to, but I found them.”

Armand nodded. The memories wouldn’t be readily available to Jim, though they might come to him in dreams. But since his mind had been controlled, all he would have were basically visual memories, like a movie he’d once seen. It was always harder to retrieve those than events the person had actually mindfully participated in.

“He blocked the door with a couple of shovels stuck into the ground,” Anders announced. “Then he doused the shed with a can of gasoline and sparked a match. Whoosh.” Anders grimaced. “It went up like kindling despite being a little damp still from the storm.”

“Did he see who was controlling him at all?” Eshe asked.

Anders shook his head. “Just like Mrs. Ramsey, he didn’t know what happened. His surface memory is watching television and then suddenly finding himself standing in his kitchen in muddy boots, not sure how they got muddy or why he was there.”

“Like Nicholas,” Bricker pointed out, making Armand’s eyes slide sharply his way as he explained, “Nicholas’s memories end with his crossing the parking lot, and then, bang, he was opening his eyes in his basement to find the dead mortal in his lap and blood everywhere.”

“Nicholas couldn’t have been controlled though,” Anders pointed out. “That had to be due to his being drugged somehow.”

“Hmm.” Bricker nodded in agreement and then glanced to Armand and said, “You know, moving out Mrs. Ramsey and your manager doesn’t stop whoever it is from grabbing someone in town, taking control, and making them do something.”

Armand frowned at the suggestion, not having thought of it himself, but Eshe didn’t seem surprised and said, “Which means we need to get this done and over with quickly before that can happen. I’m calling Mary and Agnes again. If I don’t get an answer at the Maunsells’, we head over anyway. We’ll break the bloody door in if we have to, but we’re definitely talking to them tonight.”

“I’ll call. You need more blood,” Armand said firmly. He handed her another bag and then stood to move toward the house phone on the wall.

“Neither of you needs to call, they both called last night,” Bricker announced.

“They did?” Armand asked with surprise, pausing halfway to the phone. He hadn’t heard the phone ring, and glanced instinctively to Eshe in question, but she shook her head and admitted, “I didn’t hear the phone.”

“Well, you were probably…busy,” Bricker said with amusement.

“Or in a post-busy faint,” Anders suggested dryly, and then pointed out, “If fire burning you like broiled chicken doesn’t wake you up, what makes you think a phone will?”

Armand noticed that Eshe didn’t blush or look at all embarrassed. She merely shrugged and asked, “So when can we see them?”

“I took that call,” Anders announced. “Agnes was available tonight. She said nine o’clock was best for her.”

“What did you tell her we wanted to talk to her about?” Armand asked quietly.

“I just said you wanted to introduce her to your new life mate,” Anders said. “I figured it was better not to give too much away until we get there.”

Armand nodded and asked, “What about Mary Harcourt?”

Anders immediately turned a dry look to Bricker.

The younger immortal sighed and said, “I took that call. Mary was phoning from Montreal. It’s their anniversary tomorrow and they apparently planned this trip well in advance. They arrived late last night and don’t return until Saturday. She called home to check messages when they got into the hotel, though, and called here at once,” Bricker explained, and then reluctantly admitted, “She asked that we wait until Sunday evening. She wanted a day to get settled back home. She’s making Sunday dinner for all of us.”

“Sunday dinner?” Eshe sounded stunned. “Bricker, we only have until next Tuesday to finish this.”

“That gives us plenty of time then,” he said quickly, and then added, “I considered telling her what it was about. That would have probably brought them right back; I mean their daughter was one of Armand’s murdered wives and they would probably want to know she was murdered and gain justice too,” he pointed out, and then grimaced and added apologetically, “But it seemed kind of crappy to ruin their special anniversary trip. She sounded really happy and excited about it. Besides, I wasn’t sure either of you would approve. So I just thanked her and hung up,” he admitted, and then when Eshe looked irritated added quickly, “I figured you could call the hotel in Montreal and try to convince her to come back sooner yourself if you wanted. Or even fly out there to talk to her in person if you felt we shouldn’t wait.”

Eshe glanced to him in question, and Armand sighed and scrubbed the short hairs on the back of his neck. The situation was critical, but he didn’t really think they’d learn anything from Mary Harcourt. Armand was positive she would have mentioned if she knew anything about Althea’s death that suggested it wasn’t an accident or seemed even slightly off. In fact, he suspected she would have hunted down the culprit herself with a hatchet at the time. The woman had a mean streak when it came to anyone trying to hurt her children. He’d seen her in action when she thought anyone had just slighted her daughter when he and Althea had been married. Armand was positive she wouldn’t have anything of use to tell them.

“Let’s talk to Agnes first,” he decided finally. “We can always call or go see Mary and William after if we have to.”

Eshe nodded and slapped the bag of blood he’d given her earlier to her teeth. When her eyes then slid to the clock on the wall, his own followed, and Armand grimaced when he saw the time. It was barely three o’clock. They had hours to wait before they could go see Agnes.

Fifteen

“I’m thinking Agnes and John won’t be expecting
Anders and Bricker to be with us,” Eshe said quietly, looking in the side mirror on the passenger side of the pickup to glance at the SUV following them. It was eight forty-five and they were on the way to their appointed visit to speak to Agnes. Eshe had suggested it might be better if Anders and Bricker waited at the house, but Armand had insisted they accompany them.

Now he shrugged and said, “They won’t mind. I’ll just say Anders and Bricker are guests at the house, which they are, and that I would have felt rude leaving them behind.”

She saw him glance into the rearview mirror to peer at the SUV and then his gaze shifted back to the road as he added, “I feel better having them to watch our backs on the way there and home. I’m not taking a chance you’ll be attacked again…or me,” he added as an afterthought.

Eshe smiled with amusement, knowing he’d only added the “or me” to keep from angering her, and she teased him, “I’m glad you added the last part. I’d hate to think you didn’t trust me to be able to look after myself.”

“I’m sure you’re very capable,” Armand said a bit stiffly, and she wondered if that was a tell with him, if he got all stiff and proper when he told a lie.

“I am very capable,” she assured him solemnly. “I have been training in battle since I was thirty. That’s a long time. I can take care of myself.”

Armand didn’t bother to hide his surprise at this news as he glanced at her. “You have?”

“Yes.”

He turned back to the road, his expression disgruntled. “How did Orion handle that?”

“I’m sure he was fine with it,” Eshe said with amusement. “Especially since he’s the one who insisted I learn to fend for myself and taught me how.”

“Orion did?” Armand asked carefully.

“Yes.” Eshe smiled faintly to herself at the memories that flooded over her. He’d taught her how to fight with spear, knife, sword and every other weapon as it had appeared in history before his death. Eshe’s favorite lessons had been hand-to-hand, though. Those had always ended up with hot and sweaty lovemaking sessions. A fine way for life mates to end lessons.

Sighing, Eshe pushed those memories away, feeling almost guilty for having enjoyed them when she had a new life mate. Blowing her breath out, she said, “Orion was a warrior. He was away a lot. He didn’t want to have to worry about me being home alone and defenseless when he was away earning money…or worry about possibly coming home to a dead life mate.”

“Smart man,” Armand murmured wryly. “I wish I’d been half as smart and taught Susanna, Althea, and Rosamund a thing or two.”

Eshe shrugged. “Different times, different places, different people. It’s useless to regret things you didn’t think of at the time. Everyone has a path and that wasn’t theirs.”

Armand cast her a curious glance. “Do you really think so?”

Eshe peered at him with surprise. “Don’t you?”

Armand turned his attention back to the road and shook his head. “Life has seemed to be mostly painful chaos to me for a long time.”

“Then perhaps you aren’t looking clearly,” she said quietly. “You’re still inside the fishbowl looking out rather than standing beside it looking in.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with obvious confusion.

Eshe shrugged. “When my first son died in battle, I thought it was the worst thing in the world that could happen and I would never be happy again. I felt the same when my second son died.”

“He died in battle too?” Armand asked.

Eshe nodded, not surprised he’d guessed. There were few enough ways an immortal could die and most immortal males had died in battle through the ages, especially when the weapons of choice had been swords.

“Anyway,” she murmured now, “with each son I thought the worst had come…and then my life mate, Orion, died. I knew that day that that was truly the worst thing in the world that could happen to me and I’d never be happy again. I’d never love again.” Eshe sighed as she recalled those overwhelming feelings. For a while she’d wanted to die herself.

“I’m sorry,” Armand murmured, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “I felt much the same when Susanna died.”

She squeezed his hand back, and then as he retrieved it to return it to the steering wheel said, “I was in the fishbowl at that time. But with a little time, I began to see that if Orion had to die, the timing was the best I could ask for.”

“Oh?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she assured him solemnly. “I still had one daughter at home to comfort me, and my second son had just found his life mate and brought her home, so they were there as well…And Lucian brought Orion home.”

“Lucian?” Armand gasped, tearing his eyes from the road. “He was there?”

She nodded. “It was one of his rare visits. He joined Orion for the battle, and when he was struck down, he hefted him over his shoulder and carried him home. He walked three nights to bring him to me. No one else would have done that. They would have burned his body with the rest of the fallen immortals and simply sent someone to tell me he was gone. But Lucian brought him home to me so that I could say good-bye and see to his cremation myself.”

Armand was silent, and Eshe swallowed away the lump that had developed in her throat and forced a more cheerful tone as she said, “I made it through, though, and have enjoyed moments of happiness in the time since. And now I have you, another life mate to enjoy life with.”

Armand took his hand from the steering wheel again, found hers and squeezed it gently, but then just as quickly had to replace it on the steering wheel as he turned into the Maunsells’ driveway. Eshe immediately turned her attention to the house they were approaching.

Tonight was not like the other nights when Eshe had visited this farm. Tonight they were expected, and every light in the house appeared to be on, as well as several outside lights that lit up the grounds so that it almost seemed like daylight.

Eshe glanced over the house and yard as they drove up the driveway, and then to the car and van in evidence, and thought wryly that they should have called and made arrangements to meet with John and Agnes sooner. It would have saved them a lot of wasted trips out here.

Armand parked the pickup next to the van and then they both got out to wait as Anders pulled the SUV in next to them. They all then walked to the house in silence, Eshe squeezing Armand’s hand when his bumped and then clasped hers.

This time there was no ringing the doorbell and waiting hopefully; John Maunsell had apparently been watching for them and opened the door before they’d even reached it.

“Hello,” he greeted them, smiling, his gaze sliding over Eshe and Armand, and then moving on to Bricker and Anders with slight surprise. “You brought company, I see.”

“It seemed kinder than leaving them alone at the farm to fend for themselves. That’s no way to treat houseguests,” Armand said with wry apology, and then added, “I hope you don’t mind?”

“No, of course not. You’re all welcome. Come in.” John smiled again, but Eshe thought it looked a little uncertain this time, which made her curious. However, when he backed into the house gesturing for them to enter and Armand urged her forward, she stepped inside and slipped past him to make room for the others.

“Go on into the living room there, Eshe,” John murmured, still manning the door for Anders and Bricker to enter. “Agnes is in there knitting.”

Eshe nodded and moved into the room he’d taken them to the last time she and Bricker had been there, her eyes curiously searching for the elusive Agnes. She spotted her at once, a slim brunette in a white blouse and black pants, seated in a rocker, rocking gently as she knitted. The woman must have heard them enter, but was slow to glance up, giving Eshe the chance to look her over.

Cedrick had described Agnes as a little thing who looked younger than most immortals, and Eshe thought his description was right on. She was slender and fine-boned and her features were almost gamine, making her appear eighteen or nineteen rather than the twenty-six or twenty-seven that most immortals looked to be. The fact that she wore her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail only added to the youthful appearance.