Jenna Black - Dark Descendant

I might have been imagining things, but I think one corner of Jamaal’s mouth twitched a bit, as if he’d been considering the possibility of trying on a small smile for size.

“All right, weak was the wrong word. But he’s already given me a second chance by not banishing me. If he went any easier on me, it would set a bad precedent. I’ll take my medicine, and I won’t complain about it. I might not have known your sister would get hurt, but I did know Anderson had forbidden me to hurt you, and I did it anyway. I’m not a victim.”

He had a point, but considering how many times I’d lashed out at people in my life, I wasn’t in any position to throw stones. “I’m so sorry about Emmitt,” I blurted, then tensed for Jamaal’s inevitable hostility.

There was a glint of anger in his eyes, and the muscles of his jaw worked, but he didn’t leap across the table at me. That was an impressive amount of progress, as far as I was concerned.

“I know you still don’t really believe me,” I said, figuring I might as well spit out the whole apology while Jamaal was weakened enough not to attack me, “but I swear to you, it was an accident. I’m not a killer.” The idea was so ridiculous it was all I could do not to laugh. Then I remembered my earlier insistence that Alexis had to die, and it wasn’t so funny anymore. “Did you know that when I shot Blake, I actually apologized to him before I ran?”

This time, the twitch in Jamaal’s lips was more obvious. Not quite enough to be a real smile, but a hint that he did know how. “He did mention that.”

“Well, does that sound like the act of a coldblooded killer to you?”

He sipped his coffee, thinking about it. “If you’re actually one of Konstantin’s pets, then it would all be part of your act. Even talking to me now, trying to disarm me—it’s all the role you’ve taken on for the mission.”

Gone was the fury and malice he’d shown me time and time again, but somehow his words stung more delivered calmly and at a reasonable volume. Stupid to have hurt feelings over it, I know. What he said was completely true, and he had no reason not to believe I was Konstantin’s spy.

“I’m going to find Emma,” I told him. My resolve strengthened, and I glanced out the kitchen window at the moon. I wasn’t sure how much time I had before it disappeared from view, but the more time I spent here sitting around, the less time I’d have to look for Emma while its light lasted.

“I hope you do, but that won’t really prove anything—except that Konstantin’s desperate enough to get a spy inside that he’s willing to give up Emma.”

My shoulders slumped. “So what you’re saying is there’s no way you’re ever going to believe me, no matter what I do.” It shouldn’t matter so much. I knew I hadn’t killed Emmitt on purpose. What did it matter if Jamaal thought the worst of me? And yet, it did matter to me. His suspicions had never bothered me when he was acting like a raving lunatic, but they were a lot harder to take now, when for the first time he seemed completely rational. Either I’m pathetically needy and desperate for approval, or I was just making the logical assumption that my life would be a lot simpler and more pleasant if Jamaal weren’t seeing everything I did from behind a veil of suspicion. I tried to convince myself it was the latter.

“Only time will tell,” he answered. “But I promise I won’t act against you again without proof.”

I had the uncomfortable suspicion that his definition of proof and my own weren’t quite the same. However, he was making what was for him a big concession, and that had to be a step in the right direction.

I sighed. “Finish up your coffee. Then I’ll help you get downstairs.”

“I don’t need your help.”

I pushed back my chair with a huff of exasperation. “Fine. Be that way. Just try not to crack your skull open when your legs give out and you fall down the stairs.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised gravely. If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn he was teasing me.

Leaving him to his overblown sense of male pride, I headed up to my room to grab the list of properties I planned to explore tonight.

The moon was onenight short of being full, but it was large and bright enough that I could see pretty well even without the aid of streetlights. The first property on my list was a gated monstrosity at least as large as Anderson’s mansion. It belonged to Konstantin, and he’d obviously modeled the thing on a palace. I’d have stopped to take a closer look, but even this late at night, the place was brightly lit and well-guarded. When I’d been by during the daytime, there’d been just enough traffic on the street that I could drive past multiple times without fearing I’d be noticed, but the same could not be said now.

I drove by without slowing down, though I kept my eye out for any neon signs saying “Emma is here” that the moon’s light might reveal. There were none. I was pretty sure my gut instinct said this was not where Emma was buried. But it was hard to know if that was really my gut speaking, or if it was influenced by my rational mind, which said there was no way in hell I was going to be able to sneak in there and find the grave even if it was the right place.

My next likely candidate was another mansion in Chevy Chase, this one belonging to Alexis. It wasn’t quite on the scale of Anderson’s or Konstantin’s homes, but it was still huge, the grounds vast enough to hold an entire graveyard’s worth of bodies. The place even had a large man-made—I assumed—pond in the backyard.

An ornate gate blocked the driveway, but unlike Konstantin’s place, there was no wall or fence to keep out people on foot. That didn’t mean the grounds were unprotected. The security cameras were well hidden, but I had too much experience with surveillance not to spot them. Again, I drove by without stopping. The cameras might be set up on motion sensors, only photographing people who tried to pass across the borders of the property, but if any faced the road recording a continuous feed, I didn’t want to be captured on them acting in any way suspicious.

It was as I was driving away that I felt my first gut-level hunch, one that told me Emma was on that property somewhere. The sensation was so strong, it took some willpower not to slam on the brakes. My pulse sped up, and my palms started to sweat.

Was this a real hunch? Or did some part of me want Emma to be on Alexis’s property so I could really stick it to him by sneaking her out from under his nose?

I let out a little growl of frustration. I had no way of knowing for sure.

I checked out the next three properties on my list, trying my best to listen to my instincts without consciously influencing them. Although all of the other properties would have been considerably easier to explore than Alexis’s, I didn’t feel any sudden piques of interest. My pulse remained steady, and if I’d had to venture a guess, I’d have said Emma wasn’t at any of them.

The moon had disappeared behind a bank of clouds by the time I drove by Alexis’s mansion the second time. I still had the vague feeling that it was the right place, but there was no quickening of my pulse this time, and I felt no instinctive reluctance to drive by without stopping. Either my reaction the first time had been a fluke, or it had been strengthened by the light of the moon.

Unsure whether or not I’d made any progress, I headed back to Anderson’s and vowed to check it out again tomorrow night.

The next day, I spent many hours digging up every scrapof information I could find on Alexis’s home: survey maps, floor plans, work permits, going as far back as I could find. I was even able to find out some details about the security setup, having identified the security company involved. They wouldn’t tell me anything about the specific setup at Alexis’s home, of course—I didn’t even ask, or I would have immediately flagged myself as a suspicious character. Instead, I described a fictional property that bore a non-coincidental resemblance to Alexis’s and asked for suggestions on how they would help me set up security.