Anne Bishop - Tangled Webs

Assuming, of course, that the Blood ever felt responsible for anything they did.

No matter. The children were in the house by the Blood’s invitation, and that should work out better than he’d anticipated.

He looked at the street, his eyes passing over the boy still standing on the other side of the gate, and hoped to see one of them appear. Once he closed the door, all the spells would be in motion—and would stay in motion while any of the guests lived.

Sadi and Yaslana weren’t coming. So be it.

Let the game begin.

The outside of the house had peeling paint and some shutters that looked like they were holding on by a single nail. The sitting room was a good match for the exterior—peeling wallpaper that was thankfully so faded it barely had color, lace curtains that looked like they would shred as soon as any attempt was made to clean them, and overstuffed furniture that, judging by the chew holes, housed several generations of mice.

“It’s awful,” the oldest boy said, sounding thrilled.

“The Blood don’t live in places like this,” Rainier said, sounding less than thrilled.

“I have,” Surreal said as she wandered around the room. A wave of annoyance coming from Rainier washed over her, but she continued to study the room. Wasn’t there supposed to be something spooky? Although she’d bet just looking at this place had given Marian shudders.

“Lady Surreal, neither of us live in a place like this.”

More than annoyance. Rainier was pissed that anyone, even landen children, would think the Blood would consider this place homey.

“Not now,” Surreal said, focusing on a portrait over the fireplace. Was there something queer about the man’s eyes? “But when I was preparing for a kill and didn’t want anyone to know I was in that part of a Territory, I would stay in an abandoned place like this for a few days.”

Sometimes she preferred secrecy to staying at a Red Moon house and providing services as a whore, which had been her other profession—until her recently acquired male relatives calmly told her that any male who got into her bed from now on had better be there for her pleasure or he would live just long enough to regret using his cock. So that ended that career. All right, she’d already walked away from that part of her life even before she came to Kaeleer, but it was still annoying to be told she was retired.

Becoming aware of the silence, she turned away from the portrait and found seven children staring at her.

“You kill people?” the youngest girl asked.

“I was an assassin,” Surreal replied cheerfully. “And a damn good one. I know all kinds of death spells.”

«That might have been a little more than they needed to know,» Rainier said.

Since they were looking at her the way a rabbit looks at a wolf, Rainier was probably right. On the other hand, they would probably want to stay away from her and would attach themselves to him during the tour, and that was all right too.

Then she looked at Rainier. His expression strongly suggested that she soften her statement.

“But I’m retired now,” Surreal said. “I don’t kill people anymore.” At least, not for money. “I’m Lady Surreal, and this is Prince Rainier.”

“Those are funny names,” the oldest boy said.

“Really?” Rainier sounded like he was gritting his teeth hard enough to break a few.

«You were the one who invited them to join us,» Surreal said, earning a searing look from Rainier before she focused on the children. “So who are you?”

The oldest boy, the one she’d labeled the dominant cock, was Kester. His friend was Trist. The other boys were Haywood, who was called Henn for reasons she didn’t understand, and Trout, whose face reddened when the other boys sneered at him, but who gave her a polite bow nonetheless.

The bitch was named Ginger. Her pal, the aspiring bitch, was Dayle. The youngest girl was Sage.

«Is it common for landens to name their children after foods and spices?» Surreal asked Rainier.

«I don’t know. Maybe their mothers were hungry when they had to choose a name. Or they could be lying about their names because they think it’s amusing.»

A door slammed. The house shuddered.

“I’ll check,” Surreal said, crossing the room, her hand curled in just the right way if she needed to call in her stiletto. But when she reached the sitting room doorway, there was only the caretaker in the hallway, turning away from the closed front door.

“So discourteous,” he muttered as he walked past her. “So disobedient. Not what I expected.”

“When does this tour begin?” Surreal asked him.

He didn’t stop, didn’t turn. “Find the first clue, and you’ll know what to do,” he snapped. He slammed through a door at the end of the hallway.

She was trying to be tolerant of this place because it was Jaenelle and Marian’s idea, but she was going to talk to them about that little bastard. Performance or not, if he tried that pissing contest with the wrong Blood male, he would end up very very dead.

And speaking of Blood males…

She headed for the front door.

“Anything?” Rainier asked as he stepped into the sitting room doorway.

“I’m going to check for late arrivals,” Surreal said. “You look for the first clue. It must be in the sitting room, since we were directed there by that little piece of walking carrion.”

“Surreal.” Rainier tipped his head to indicate the children.

She turned and gave him a look that had him backing up a step. Then she yanked the front door open—and stared at the brick wall in front of her. She reached out cautiously, sure her hand would pass through the illusion—or trigger something “spooky.” But it was solid brick against her palm.

“Hell’s fire,” she muttered. “Guess we don’t leave through the same door we entered.” And now that the door was closed, that smell in the hallway was getting stronger—and more familiar.

Near the stairs. But where…?

Using a few drops of her Birthright Green power, she created a ball of witchlight—and frowned as a gong sounded somewhere in the house. But the sound was forgotten when the light revealed a door under the stairs. No obvious knob, but there had to be a latch that was easy enough to find and open. Otherwise, the space would have no use.

As she moved closer, the smell got stronger.

Yes, there was the latch, made to look like a knot in the paneling. She shifted the witchlight so she could see inside as she opened the door and…

“Well, shit.”

“Did you find the clue?” Rainier asked, crossing the hallway to join her.

She pulled the door open a little farther so they could both see inside. “I don’t know if it’s a clue, but I did find a body in a closet.”

Daemon approached the Consort’s suite with weary eagerness. He usually enjoyed the business side of ruling Dhemlan and taking care of the family property and wealth, but today each thing had felt like a handful of grit being sprinkled over him. Before he gave himself to the best part of the day—those hours he would have with Jaenelle—he wanted a long, hot shower. No. A bath. The luxury of soaking away all the nattering voices he’d dealt with throughout a long morning’s worth of meetings and all the paperwork he’d waded through during the past few hours. The Dhemlan Queens were still nervous about dealing with him, and he understood that. When Jaenelle’s life had been threatened by a witch obsessed with having him , he’d made it brutally clear what he would do to protect someone he loved. So he understood why the Province Queens were anxious to assure him that they did have control over the territories they ruled within his Territory.