Harlequin Nocturne May 2015 Box Set: Wolf Hunter\Possessed by a Wolf (39 page)

She was lost again. “How is that significant?”

Faran closed the book and tossed it onto the coverlet. “What's the one thing energy drinks have that fey are allergic to?”

Lexie searched her memory of fairy stories. “Iron.”

“Bingo again. A fey fetch after a ring that would loose the dark fey kingdom. This is starting to add up.”

She digested this a moment, studying his face. Fatigue had etched lines around his eyes, but he looked pleased with himself. And so he should. “You really are a detective, aren't you?”

“Working on it.” He gave her that grin again, half surfer boy and half devil.

Then he sobered. “But the fey connection—and the ring—is only one piece of the puzzle. There's all the other stuff, like the poisoned ceviche. I might have found a corner, but this jigsaw puzzle has a thousand pieces. The only thing Valois has gotten out of our rogue cook is that the dose was never meant to be fatal. He didn't mean to actually kill anyone and so far, thankfully, he hasn't.”

Lexie's dream pressed against her thoughts. “Still, the mass poisoning of innocents takes a certain kind of crazy. It's like something Justin would do.”

Faran frowned. “What are you saying?” He sounded worried.

She waved a hand. “I'm not saying he's risen from the grave—he was cremated, for starters—but we're looking for someone who thinks the same way.”

“Such as?”

“Someone who understands how power and chaos work.”

Faran propped himself up on a pillow, getting comfortable. “Yeah, but that profiles half the people in the palace. Royal courts are hotbeds for schemers.”

“But what's the
effect
of what he or she is doing? What does making a bunch of random people sick do? It creates an uproar. What happens during an uproar? People get distracted. Amelie is sick in bed, an attendant turns her back and the ring goes missing again. It's still about the ring. The only reason the poisoning happened is because you and I caught up with Gillon and got it back.” Lexie finished, feeling exhilarated. The connections between one fact and another shimmered in her imagination like a blade ready to slice through to a solution.

“If that's the case,” said Faran, “how did they put the poisoning in motion so quickly? They couldn't know we'd find out Gillon was the thief.”

“This was probably their back-up plan in case the theft at the reception failed. Any good villain has a plan B,” she said with confidence, although her first-hand knowledge was admittedly small.

And then she noticed Faran was quiet. His eyes had drifted shut, his breathing growing slower and more even. After working for almost two days solid, he'd fallen asleep. Lexie lightly brushed his fair hair. It was thick as a wolf's pelt and almost as rough to the touch. She bent, kissing him lightly. Faran had always slept with utter abandon, as boneless as a child, but could be alert and on his feet in the blink of an eye. She didn't want to wake him now.

She turned off the lamp and lay down, careful not to disturb him, and pulled a blanket over them both. Sleep wouldn't come to her so soon after waking, but she wanted the time to think. She slid an arm over his chest and tucked her chin into the crook of his shoulder, just as she'd done so many times in the past. It felt right.

Lexie meant to think about the case, but that wasn't the thought that flitted through her head.
I wonder if he still might want to marry me?

Her eyes snapped open, the dark pulsing with new questions. She hadn't meant to go there at all. Faran's wide shoulder rose and fell with his breath, solid and comfortable and—part of a werewolf. Mortal, like herself. Occasionally fuzzier. Sometimes deadly ferocious.

However kind he'd been, however wonderful, there was still part of her that went cold when it came to what that wolf could do. That it had done. But that corner of her heart was forgetting to be afraid.

I wonder if someday I would say yes?
For a second she let herself drift with that dream, thinking only of the happiness she felt in that moment. And, perhaps because Faran's quirky sense of humor was infecting her, she saw herself in a bridal gown standing next to a wolf in a top hat. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud. What a wedding portrait that would make.

And then she saw the piece of the case she'd completely missed.

Chapter 16

F
aran stumbled from the bedroom like a cave bear in spring: sleep-addled, hungry and sorely in need of grooming. He squinted in the brightness. Someone had turned on the sun.

Lexie was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees and her hair piled up and skewered with a pencil. “Hey there,” she said with a bright smile that made everything seem better. “It's morning, in case you're wondering.”

He wandered behind the couch, pausing to kiss the creamy skin where the collar of her pullover dipped at the nape of her neck. She smelled of shampoo. “It's a good morning.”

She quirked a grin. “Is it?”

“Sure.” After all, they were smiling at each other like total goofs, happy to be in the same room. It had been a while since that had happened.

There was a paper bag on the table that showed telltale signs of grease. He picked it up and looked inside. A waft of chocolate and butter made his mouth water. “Brioche?”

She continued clicking keys. “I found a bakery open. I was starving. Help yourself.”

He bit into it greedily. “What are you working on?”

“I'm sorting through the pictures I took at the banquet.”

Faran looked over her shoulder. Maurice was twinkling back from the screen with a Cheshire cat smile. A bit much for first thing in the morning. “He didn't have the scallops or the ceviche. I wonder if he's really allergic to seafood.”

“Hmm,” Lexie replied, hitting a key that cropped part of the background. “Kyle didn't have the ceviche. He gave his to Leo.”

Because he'd been sniffing Leo's. Faran frowned. “I wonder what ordinary people talk about before breakfast.”

Lexie kept tapping. “We'll never know.”

Faran's mind rambled on. The only royal who had eaten the poisoned food was Amelie, who was unlikely to steal her own ring. “Can you make a folder of all the photos that show the servers? I'd like to verify who served what table.”

“Sure. I'm going to check the reception photos, too. See if there are any common faces that raise alarm bells.”

She said it confidently, not as a question. She had the end of an investigative thread and was following it with a vengeance.
You go, girl
, Faran thought.

“That's why someone was trying to get in through the window,” Lexie said. “They want the photos. When I was taken for questioning, my cameras were searched, but I had the memory cards. But when my cameras came up empty, Gillon tried to run us off the road.”

“Because they figured out you had the cards with you.” Faran was wide-awake now, and glad he'd had a full measure of sleep. “Our mastermind thinks you took a picture of something incriminating.”

She tapped the screen, poking Maurice in the nose. “That's why I need to spend some time going over these. That and the fact Chloe needs to keep the palace media crew happy or we'll both be fired.”

“I'll leave you to it, then,” said Faran. He didn't like the idea of Lexie on anyone's radar, but she had a point. “I'm taking a shower.”

Once he had dressed, he went out in search of steaming hot protein—something Lexie was never interested in until much later in the day. There was a reason he was the Horseman named Famine. Shape-shifters of all kinds had a faster metabolism than humans, which was half the reason he had learned to cook.

On his way, he phoned Valois and requested a guard—a trusted officer not in any way connected to Vidon—be put on Lexie's door. After the struggle to retrieve the poison from the kitchen, he was certain Valois wasn't on the side of the bad guys. The police captain might not love the Company, but he wouldn't do anything to endanger an innocent woman.

And if they were right about the photos, Faran didn't want Lexie left alone. Just as important, he wanted her to
feel
safe. Getting a few things out in the open—like the business with her brother—had seemed to turn things around. There was a long way to go, but he was beginning to hope that their relationship would eventually get back on track. He would personally shred anyone who messed that up.

Faran found a café that offered a hot breakfast and refueled with oatmeal, eggs and spiced sausages while he read the coverage of the poisoning in the paper. The palace was blaming it on bad fish, which was close enough to the truth that the press believed the story. He paid the bill and left, deciding to check in with Valois one last time before contacting Sam and filling him in. The Company was going to be highly interested in the fey connection, especially the older vampires who still remembered when the Dark Fey walked free.

He decided to make his first stop Valois's interrogation rooms at the palace. On his way, Faran walked past the maze and crossed the croquet lawn where he'd chased the would-be intruder. A game was in progress, the players surrounded by a crowd of onlookers with cameras. It looked as if Prince Leo had just beaten Maurice. Today, the musician was wearing something that looked like a zombie version of the Great Gatsby, but with powder-pink fingernails.

Faran stuck to the path, not wanting to get sidetracked from his mission, but it was too late. Leo had spotted him. The prince handed his mallet to one of his flunkies and strolled toward Faran. Forced to be polite, Faran left the path and went to join him near the wickets.

“Mr. Kenyon,” said the prince. For once, his tone was friendly. “I want to take the opportunity to thank you for your timely intervention at the banquet.”

Faran was mildly surprised by the polite opening. “It was my pleasure and duty, Your Highness.”

“We will, of course, be taking better precautions as we lead up to my brother's wedding. My father, despite his old-fashioned ideas, is right about one thing. Royalty has remained aloof in part for its own safety. The closer we get to the people, the more we put ourselves at risk. Mingling with the commoners is a necessary step, but not one that should be taken lightly.”

Faran smiled but changed the subject. “How fares the princess?”

“Amelie's health is better, but she is upset at being the victim of theft, especially as she slept.” Leo gave a weary smile. “Princesses are not accustomed to such treatment, and she's letting everyone know it.”

Faran couldn't stop a chuckle. Amelie had a temper when roused. “I'm relieved to hear that she is feeling well enough to make her opinions heard.”

“And Ms. Haven? I am ashamed of the role I played in putting her at risk.”

Decking the prince would have been unwise in front of witnesses, so Faran merely nodded. “She is also recovering.”

“Good. I will be sure to extend my apologies in person.”

As they spoke, the prince's smooth manner began to grate. Faran could have accepted that Prince Leo was a jerk who had been shocked back to civility by a close call, except Faran's nose was telling another story. He recognized the prince's scent from another night in the garden.

“You're quite the sportsman, my lord,” Faran said. “I saw you with your friends coming in from the tennis courts, and now you're playing croquet. Do you have other sporting pastimes?”

The prince's smile deepened. Clearly he enjoyed talking about himself. “Many.”

“Did I read about you in an expedition up Kilimanjaro?” Faran hadn't, but the lie got him where he needed to go.

“No, Everest.”

“Definitely a skilled climber, then.”

“Definitely,” Leo said. “I've made twice the ascents Kyle has.”

The fact that he made that point to a relative stranger said everything about his relationship with his brother. It also said that Faran's nose was right. It had been Leo who had tried to climb Lexie's wall, wearing almost exactly the same gear as the cook who'd poisoned the ceviche.

At first glance, Faran had thought the two balaclava-wearing baddies were the same man. Both were the same height and build, but now he knew the truth. The climber and Leo smelled the same. Unfortunately, Faran had no proof a human could verify, and without it he was useless.

Useless
. Faran wanted to howl. His essential need to protect and keep order rebelled. The wolf in him saw no reason why this princeling deserved to continue breathing, much less to be shown respect. The wolf pushed so near the surface of his skin that it prickled.

He took just one step toward the prince—no raised fist or bared teeth—but it was enough to send a coward running. Leo took a wavering step backward, but the heel of his supple leather boot caught on one of the wickets and he went sprawling with a cry of rage.

A bevy of aids dove to help Leo, which only made things more embarrassing. Faran didn't care, but watched the fawning lackeys hinder more than they helped. He was suddenly struck by the memory of these same young men coming in from the tennis court. He had taken note of their faces and a few were missing.

And then two memories clicked together like puzzle pieces. One of the missing lackeys was the evil cook. Faran hadn't made the connection until that instant, but the man had been there in the Queen's Gallery the day Leo had salivated all over Lexie. That meant the poisoner—now in police custody—was Leo's employee. No wonder the princeling had forced Lexie to eat the fish instead of dining on it himself.

Faran nearly lunged for the prince, for one moment eager to simply rip out Leo's throat and damn the torpedoes. It was the way a wolf would handle it. Direct. Honest.

Maurice grabbed his arm. He was unexpectedly strong, his voice low and serious. “Whatever you're thinking, don't.”

Faran swore. Leo was up now, being dusted off by his lackeys. The question was what happened next. Company training said to back off and get his ducks in a row, but letting Leo go was a risk. At the same time, he couldn't bring someone to Valois on suspicion of body odor. That sort of thing didn't hold up in court.

The musician leaned close enough to murmur. “Leopold is a brat and deserves whatever you could dream up, but he's also very powerful.”

He was. And a prince and his minions would know exactly how a palace worked—how people got hired, how to find out the security routines, how to locate any secret doors or passages. It all made sense.

“You should probably make yourself scarce,” Maurice added.

“Great fuzzy balls,” Faran growled. “I didn't do anything. Yet.”

“You saw Leo embarrass himself. That's crime enough.” Maurice's face—eyeliner and all—was grave. “You can nail him properly if you bide your time.”

“I don't want to admit it, but you're right,” Faran said with great reluctance.

Maurice released Faran's arm and made a shooing motion. “Don't dawdle.”

Faran vanished before Leo could gather his wits. But Faran's mind was already galloping ahead. Prince Leo's lackey was in the palace lockup. Faran wondered what it would take to get the man to roll on his prince.

* * *

Lexie shoved the computer off her lap. She'd been working long enough her joints felt permanently frozen and her eyeballs fried. So far she'd cleaned up and emailed Chloe images from both the reception and the banquet and sorted the rest for potential sleuthing. She then copied everything to a couple of private clouds just in case something happened. Normally she was paranoid about hackers and avoided storing sensitive work online, but in this instance the more copies there were, the better chance there would be that evidence would survive. Nevertheless, nothing in the zillion photos she'd taken had jumped out at her as remarkable. Maybe she didn't know what she was looking for.

Lexie got up to stretch, walking around the tiny room just to get the blood moving. Her bare foot stepped on something metallic. “Ow.”

Bending slowly because she was still stiff from sitting, she picked up the object and rolled it between finger and thumb. Disbelief stunned her thoughts to silence, but her hand went to her thigh anyhow. Her body, if not her brain, understood the thing's significance in those first seconds. And then came a molten anger that ran as slow as honey distilled from the deadliest blooms.

It was a meat skewer, just like the one her brother had used to stab her in the middle of the night. Someone was playing games.

Rage cleared her head, giving her mind speed and logic. The thing hadn't been there last night. It had to have shown up this morning, when she went out to get something to eat. Faran had been in the bedroom, but he was a quiet sleeper—no snoring—and had been keeping odd hours. It was possible no one knew he was there. Nothing had been disturbed, but she'd taken the laptop and memory cards with her to keep working over breakfast, so there had been nothing to steal.

But why leave this?
It was clearly a personal attack. Very personal. Intimate, even, and made directly against her.

Her first instinct was to hurl the skewer from the window, but she needed it for proof. She would get the malevolent creep who had left it for her to find.

Lexie slammed it down on the coffee table and scrambled for her phone. In the aftermath of the poisoning, Valois had given her his private line, and she dialed it now.

“You did a background check on me when I was hired. You had a lot of detail,” she said once the preliminary greetings were over.

“Yes,” Valois replied. “We did so for everyone who was to be close to the prince and princess.”

“Who has access to those files?” She stared balefully at the skewer.

“I assure you, we treat those with the utmost confidence.”

“Who, Valois?” she pressed. “It's important.”

“Me, my two deputies and the head of Vidonese security,” he answered defensively—and probably only because of her connection with Faran. “What's this about?”

Vidonese security. The green-coats who had chased Faran with hounds. “Is that Captain Gregori?”

“Yes.”

“Who does he answer to?”