J. Robb - Ceremony In Death

"It's nothing. It's Roarke. It's just there." She turned blindly toward her desk. "I'm sorry, Feeney, I've got to get it together for a media statement."

"Sure." He worked up a smile for her. "I know how much you love that. I'll let you know about using the place."

"Yeah, do that." She stared hard at her screen until he went out. She'd followed orders, she reminded herself. She'd done the right thing.

So why did it make her feel like a traitor?

She made the tail end of the viewing, grateful that Roarke had come with her. It was too familiar, the same memorial parlor, the same scents, many of the same people.

"I hate this," she murmured. "Sanitized death."

"It comforts."

Eve looked over to where Brenda was supported by her mother and her son while tears ran slowly down her cheeks. She had the glazed and delicate look of the heavily medicated.

"Does it?"

"It closes," he corrected and took her cold hand in his. "For some."

"When it's my turn, don't do this. Recycle the parts, burn the rest. Get it done."

He felt the fist clutch around his heart and gave her hand a hard squeeze. "Don't."

"Sorry. I tend to have morbid thoughts in places like this. Well." Her room scan stopped when she spotted Isis. "There's my witch."

Roarke followed her gaze and studied the imposing woman with flame-colored hair and wearing a simple robe of pure white. She stood by the viewing box beside a man a full head shorter than she. He wore a plain, almost conservative suit, also in white. Their fingers were linked.

"The man with her?"

"I don't know him. Might be a member of her sect or whatever. Let's check it out."

They moved across the room and by tacit agreement, flanked the couple. Eve looked down at Alice first, at the young face, composed now. Death had a way of relaxing the features. After the insult had passed.

"She's not here." Isis spoke quietly. "Her spirit still searches for peace. I'd hoped… I'd hoped to find her here. I'm sorry I missed you today, Dallas. We were closed in Alice's memory."

"You weren't at home, either."

"No, we gathered at another place, for our own ceremony. The man across the street told me you'd been looking for me." A faint smile wisped around her mouth. "He was concerned that I had a cop on my trail. He has a good heart, despite a certain imbalance."

She stepped back to introduce the man beside her. "This is Chas. My mate."

Training kept Eve's eyes bland, but she was surprised. He was as ordinary as Isis was spectacular. His hair was a washed-out blond, thin in texture. His body was almost fragile, narrow in the shoulders, short in the leg. His square, unremarkable face was stopped just short of homely by a pair of surprisingly lovely deep gray eyes. When he smiled, it was with a sweetness that demanded a smile in return.

"I'm sorry to meet you under such sad circumstances. Isis told me you were a very strong and purposeful soul. I see she was right, as always."

She nearly blinked at his voice. It was a deep, creamy baritone any opera singer would have wept for. She caught herself watching his mouth move and imagining a ventriloquist's dummy. It wasn't a voice that should have come out of that body and that face.

"I need to talk to you both as soon as possible." She glanced around, wished for a discreet way to slip out and conduct an interview. It would have to wait. "This is Roarke."

"Yes, I know." Isis offered a hand. "We've met before."

"Have we?" His smile was politely curious. "I can't imagine forgetting meeting a beautiful woman."

"Another time, another place." Her eyes stayed on his. "Another life. You saved mine once."

"That was wise of me."

"Yes, it was. And kind. Perhaps someday you'll revisit the county of Cork and see a small stone dance alone in a fallow field… and you'll remember." She slipped the silver cross she wore off her neck, handed it to him. "You gave me a talisman then. Similar to this Celtic cross. I suppose that's why I wore it tonight. To close a circle."

The metal was warmer against his hand than it should have been, and it stirred something in cloudy memory he didn't care to explore. "Thank you." He slipped it into his pocket.

"One day I may return the favor you did me." She turned to Eve then. "I'll speak with you whenever you like. Chas?"

"Of course, whenever it's convenient for you, Lieutenant Dallas. Will you attend our ceremony? We'd very much like to share it with you. Night after next. We have a small place upstate. It's quiet and private and, when the weather cooperates, perfect for outdoor rites. I hope you – ''

He broke off, his stunning eyes going dark. His thin body shifting to what Eve recognized immediately as a guard stance. "He's not one of us," he said.

She glanced around, spotted a man in a dark suit. His face was cell-block white and framed by a black wedge of hair. The suit was expensive, his skin wan, making him appear both sickly and successful.

He started toward the viewing box, saw the group already there. In one jerky move he turned on his heel and hurried out.

"I'll check it out."

She was moving quickly when Roarke caught up with her. "We'll check it out."

"It would be better if you stayed inside with them."

"I'm staying with you."

She only shot him a frustrated look. "Don't cramp my style."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The retreating man was nearly at a run as he hit the door. Eve only had to touch his arm to have him jolt. "What? What do you want?" He whirled, pressing the door for release, backing out of it into the rainy night. "I haven't done anything."

"No? He sure looks guilty for an innocent man, doesn't he?" She took a firmer grip on his arm to keep him from rabbiting away. "Maybe you should show me some ID."

"I don't have to show you anything."

"It's not necessary," Roarke said smoothly. He'd gotten a better look now. "Thomas Wineburg, isn't it? Of Wineburg Financial. You've nabbed yourself a deadly type here, Lieutenant. A banker. Third generation. Or is it fourth?"

"It's fifth," Wineburg said, struggling to look down his narrow nose at what his family would consider new and not quite decent money. "And I've done nothing to warrant being accosted by a police officer and a financial rogue."

"I'm the cop," Eve decided glancing at Roarke. "You must be the financial rogue."

"He's just mad because I don't use his bank." Roarke flashed a wolfish grin. "Aren't you, Tommy?"

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Well, then, you can talk to me. What's the rush?"

"I – I have an appointment I'd forgotten. I'm quite late."

"Then a couple more minutes won't matter. Are you a friend of the deceased's family?"

"No."

"Oh, I get it, you just like to while away a rainy evening at a viewing parlor. I've heard that's the coming thing for singles."

"I – I'd mistook the address."

"I don't think so. What did you come to see? Or who?"

"I – " His eyes widened when Isis and Chas stepped out. "Stay away from me."

"I'm sorry, Dallas. We were concerned when you didn't come back." Isis turned her exotic eyes on Wineburg. "Your aura is dark and muddy. You dabble without belief. Toy with power beyond your scope. If you don't change your path, you damn yourself."

"Keep her away from me." Straining against Eve's grip, Wineburg cringed back.

"She's not hurting you. What do you know about Alice's death, Wineburg?"

"I don't know anything." His voice went shrill. "I don't know anything about anything. I mistook the address. I have an appointment. You can't hold me."

No, she couldn't, but she could scare the hell out of him. "I could take you down to Central, play with you awhile before your representative managed to get there. Wouldn't that be fun?"