Ceremony In Death

CHAPTER TWENTY

Delusional, sociopathic, an addictive and easily influenced personality. Eve tossed Mira's report aside. She hadn't needed a psychiatrist to tell her Mirium was a lunatic with no conscience. She'd seen that for herself.

Or that she had obsessive leanings toward the occult, a low intelligence quotient, and a capacity for violence.

Mira's recommendation for further testing, and for treatment as a mentally defective might have been sound, but it didn't change the facts.

Mirium had butchered a man in cold blood, and would more than likely do her time in the quiet rooms of a mental health facility.

The truth testing hadn't been much more helpful. It indicated the subject was telling the truth – as the subject saw the truth. There were gaps and hitches and confusion.

Likely due, Eve noted, glancing at the drug scan results, from having a half dozen illegal substances bouncing around in her system.

"Lieutenant?" Peabody stepped in, waited for Eve to look up. "Schultz from the PA's office just tagged me."

"What's the status?"

"The lawyer won't budge. She's pushing for a truth test, but Forte keeps refusing. Schultz thinks she's stalling, says she wants forty-eight to study all the reports and evidence. It'll keep Forte in since bail was denied, but she's insisting. Schultz thinks Forte's ready to roll over, but she's keeping him on a short leash."

"Schultz give you all that?"

"Yeah, well, I think he was looking to make time. Fresh divorce."

"Oh." Eve lifted a brow. "And he likes a woman in uniform."

"I'd say it's more like he likes a human with breasts at this point. Bottom line, he doesn't think we're getting any more tonight. The lawyer exercised her client's right for minimum break. Schultz agreed to talk more in the morning. He's headed out."

"All right. Maybe it's best to give them both time to stew. We'll swing by Isis's place. May be able to shake her."

"You've got it pretty well wrapped." Peabody fell into step beside her. "You'll be able to relax some tonight at the party."

"Party?" Eve stopped dead. "Mavis's party? That's tonight? Hell."

"So speaks the party animal," Peabody said dryly. "Personally, I'm looking forward to it. It's been a shitty week."

"Halloween's supposed to be for kids, so they can blackmail adults into forking over junk food. Grown men and women running around in dopey costumes. It's embarrassing."

"Actually it's an old, revered tradition with its roots in earth religions."

"Don't get started," Eve warned as they rode down to the garage. She eyed Peabody suspiciously. "You're not actually wearing a costume."

"How else can I guarantee getting my share of candy?" Peabody brushed some lint from the front of her uniform.

– =O=-***-=O=-

The store was dark, and so was the apartment. No one answered the knock on any door. Eve considered, checked her watch. "I'm going to stake it out for a couple of hours. I'd rather hit her tonight."

"She's probably at the sabbat ceremony."

"I don't figure she's in the mood for naked dancing under the circumstances. I'll stick. You can catch transpo from here."

"I can stay."

"It's not necessary. If she doesn't show in a couple hours, I'll head to Mavis's."

"Like that?" Peabody scanned Eve's faded jeans, worn boots, and battered jacket. "Don't you want to wear something more… festive?''

"No. I'll see you there." Eve climbed back in the car, lowered the window. "So, what are you wearing?"

"It's a secret," Peabody said with a grin and walked off to catch a tram home.

"Embarrassing," Eve decided, and settling back, engaged her 'link. The system put her through to Roarke at his midtown office.

"Just caught me," he told her, and noted the edge of the steering wheel on the monitor. "Obviously, you're not at home getting yourself ready for tonight's festivities."

"Obviously not. I've got a couple more hours here, so I'll meet you at Mavis's. We can duck out early."

"I can see you're already looking forward to an exciting evening."

"Halloween." She glanced over as a ghoul, a six-foot pink rabbit, and a mutant transexual crossed the street in front of her car. "I just don't get it."

"Darling Eve, for some it's simply an excuse to be foolish. For others it's a serious holy day. Samhain, the beginning of Celtic winter. The beginning of the year, the turn of it with the old dying and the new yet unborn. On this night the veil between is very thin."

"Boy." She gave a mock shudder. "Now I'm spooked."

"Tonight we'll concentrate on using it as an excuse to be foolish. Want to get drunk and have wild sex?"

"Yeah." Her lips twitched. "That sounds pretty good."

"We could get started now. A little 'link sex."

"That would be illegal over an official line. Besides, you never know when Dispatch is going to get nosey."

"Then I won't mention how much I want to get my hands on you. My mouth on you. How exciting it is to feel you under me, when I'm inside you and you arch back, struggling to breathe and fist your hands in my hair."

"No, don't mention it," she told him as the muscles in her thighs tingled and went lax. "I'll see you in a couple hours. We'll, ah, go home early. Then you could mention it."

"Eve?"

"Yeah?"

"I adore you." With a silky, satisfied smile on his face, he disengaged.

She blew out a long, slow breath. "When am I going to get used to this?" she muttered.

The sex was mind-scrambling enough. She'd never thought of the act as any more than a necessary and mildly pleasurable physical release. Until Roarke. He could turn her dry-mouthed and needy with a look. But more was the hold he had on her heart in that firm, possessive grip that was alternately comforting and terrifying.

She'd never understood the demanding power of love.

Frowning, she looked back at the apartment across the street. Hadn't that been what she'd seen there? Power and love? Isis was a strong, powerful woman. Could love have blinded her so completely?

It wasn't impossible, Eve mused. But it was… disappointing, she admitted. For herself, she knew Roarke had spent much of his life skirting the law. Hell, she thought, he'd stomped on it.

She knew he'd stolen, cheated, finagled. She knew he'd killed. The abused child from the mean streets of Dublin had done what he'd needed to do to survive. Then had done as he'd liked to profit. She couldn't entirely blame him for either.

Yet, if he used his power and his position today to kill, what would she do? Would she stop loving him? She wasn't sure, but she was sure that she would know. And the code that she lived by wouldn't allow her to turn a blind eye to murder.

Maybe the code Isis lived by wasn't as strong.

And yet, as she sat in the dark with the sharp little teeth of the wind biting at her windows, she found she couldn't balance it.

Forte had all but confessed now, she reminded herself. Once she'd confronted him with the robe, with the evidence, he'd started toward surrender.

That wasn't entirely true, she thought. It was when she'd brought Isis into it that he'd changed directions.

Protecting her. Shielding her. Sacrificing for her.

With a new theme playing in her mind, she got out of the car, crossed the street.

A number of people wandered the street, many of them in costumes. Even as she stepped over the curb, a gaggle of teenagers rushed by, making enough noise to wake the dead. No one paid any attention to a lone woman in a leather jacket climbing the stairs to a dark apartment.

She stood on the landing a moment, scanning the street, the surrounding buildings. It was an area where people minded their own business, she decided. And wouldn't the neighbors be accustomed to seeing people – perhaps the-less-than-usual type of person – going up and into the apartment.

To test her theory farther, Eve tried the door. Finding it locked, she simply fished a master code out of her pocket. She had the door open in seconds and waited just outside it for the sound of a security alarm.

There was only silence inside.

No security, she decided, and resisted the temptation to go in. The average civilian wouldn't have access to a master, but there were other ways of popping unsecured locks.

Hadn't the apartment been empty the day before? With both Forte and Isis at Central, how easy would it have been for someone to slip in, to plant a bloodstained robe in an obvious place?

Eve shut the door again and stood arguing with herself. Mirium had implicated him. She'd said his name as she sat on the floor, blood still running from her hands.

Delusional, sociopathic, easily influenced.

Damn it. Eve trooped down the steps, back to her car. The evidence was there, wasn't it? Motive, opportunity. It was a fucking textbook checklist. She even had a confessed accomplice in custody.

An accomplice he'd been sleeping with on the side. Having sex in Central Park, using his influence to bring her into the coven right under his lover's nose.

It fit, she told herself. And that was the trouble. It slid so well into place it was as if someone had oiled the slot. All you had to do was leave out love – selfless, devoted, unquestioning love. Add that, and it scraped along the sides of that slot, screaming in protest.

If there was a chance it was a setup, and that she was being used to make it click, she was damn well going to find out. She considered calling Peabody, started to reach for her 'link, when she heard the scream. She was out of the car, her hand on her weapon, when she spotted the black-robed figure dragging a woman into the shadows.

"Police." She rushed forward, drawing. "Back off."

He did more than that. He ran. When Eve reached the woman, she was lying facedown, moaning. Holstering her weapon, she crouched down.

"How bad did he hurt you?" As she rolled the woman over, she saw the glint of a blade. It was pressed, keen-edged, against her stomach before she saw Selina's face.

"All I have to do is push, just a little." Selina smiled. "I'd enjoy that. But for now…" Her hand tapped against Eve's throat. She felt the pressure and the sting an instant before her vision blurred.

"Now you're going to help me to the car. Or it's going to look that way if anyone notices." Smiling, Selina put her arms around Eve, keeping close so it appeared she was being lifted to her feet. "And if you don't do exactly what I say, your guts will hit the sidewalk and I'll be gone before you realize you're dead."

Eve's head was swimming, her legs like rubber as Selina led her down the sidewalk. "Get in," Selina ordered, "slide over."

She found herself obeying dully, while a part of her mind screamed in protest. "Not so smart now, are you, Lieutenant Dallas? Not so cool. We led you right where we wanted you. Stupid bitch. How do you set this thing to auto?"

"I – " She couldn't think. Fear couldn't get through the haze, nor could anger or training. She stared blankly at the controls. "Auto?"

Her voice was enough. The vehicle shuddered, then hummed discordantly.

"I don't believe you're in any shape to drive." Selina threw back her head and laughed. "Give it the address. My apartment. We have a very special ceremony in mind for you."

Mechanically, Eve repeated the address and stared straight ahead as the vehicle slowly slid from the curb. "Not Forte," she managed, struggling to snap back. "It was never him."

"That pathetic excuse for a man? He couldn't kill a fly if it landed on his dick. If he's got one. But he and that half-breed Wiccan are going to pay. You've seen to that, haven't you? They thought they could save poor little Alice. Well, so did her stupid grandfather. See where it got them. No one challenges me and lives. You'll find out just how much power I have very soon now. And you'll beg me to kill you and end it."

"You killed them all."

"Every one of them." Selina leaned closer. "And more. Many more. I enjoy the children most. They're so… fresh. I walked right in on the grandfather, used his weakness for females. Sobbed, told him I was afraid for my life. Alban would kill me. Then I slipped the drugs into his drink and I killed him. I wanted blood but, well, it was nearly as satisfying to watch his eyes as he realized he was dying. You've seen how the eyes die first, haven't you, Dallas? They die first."

"Yes." The mists were moving back to the corners of her mind. She could feel her legs and arms tingle as the nerves pumped back to life. "Yes, they do."

"And Alice. I was almost sorry when we had to end that. Tormenting her day after day was so arousing. They way she would jump at a cat or a bird. Droids. Easily programmed. We used the cat that night, had it speak to her with my voice. We were waiting for her, we had plans for her, but she ran into the street and killed herself instead.

"So we'll do to you what we'd planned for her. Here we are now."

As the car veered toward the curb, Eve tested her hand, forced it into a fist. She struck out, backhanded, felt the satisfying connection with flesh and bone. Then the door was wrenched open behind her, hands clenched around her throat.

And the world went black.

– =O=-***-=O=-

"She should be here by now." Though her apartment was filled with people and noise and wildly spinning lights, Mavis pouted. "She promised."

"She'll be right along." Roarke managed to avoid being butted by a red-robed bull, lifted a brow at the manic call of "Toro!" An angel spun by, desperately dancing with a headless corpse.

"I really wanted her to see what Leonardo and I have done with the place." Proud, Mavis turned a quick circle. "She'd never recognize her old digs, would she?"

Roarke scanned the magenta walls with their uninhibited splashes and streaks of cerise and periwinkle. The furniture consisted of heaps of glossy pillows and glass tubes. In keeping with the event, streamers of orange and black swayed everywhere. Skeletons danced, witches flew, and black cats arched.

"No." He could agree with complete honesty. "She'd never recognize her old apartment. You've done… wonders."

"We just love it. And we've got the best landlord on planet." She kissed him enthusiastically.

While he hoped her purple lipstick hadn't transferred to his face, he smiled. "My favorite tenant."

"Could you call her, Roarke?" With fingers tipped the same shade, she plucked at his sleeve. "Just give her a little goose."

"Of course. Go play hostess, and don't worry. I'll get her here."

"Thanks." She rolled off on glittery, red-wheeled shoes.

Roarke turned with the idea of hunting up somewhere quiet to make his call, then blinked at the apparition. "Peabody?"

Her elaborately painted face fell. "You recognized me."

"Barely." With a faint smile, he stepped back to take a full measure.

Long blonde hair swirled over her shoulders, down her back, over the tiny scallop-shaped bra that covered her breasts. From the waist down, she was encased in shimmering green.

"You make a lovely mermaid."

"Thanks." She perked up again. "It took me forever to rig myself out."

"How the hell do you walk?"

"I've got a cutout for my feet, the skirt of the tail covers it." She wiggled back. "Pretty restrictive to movement though. Where's Dallas?" She twisted her head to search. "I want her to get a load of it."

"She isn't here yet."

"No?" Because she hadn't worn her watch, she peered down at his. "It's almost ten. She was only going to stake out Isis's place for a couple hours then come straight here."

"I was about to call her."

"Good idea." Peabody tried to ignore the prickle of nerves. "She's probably stalling. She hates stuff like this."

"Yes, you're right." But she'd have been there for Mavis, he thought as he slipped into the corner. And for him.

When her 'link went unanswered, he bypassed security and called through her communicator. There was a humming buzz that indicated it was on standby, but it went unanswered.

"Something's wrong," he said when he stepped back up to Peabody. "She isn't picking up."

"Let me get my bag, try her communicator."

"I already tried it," he said shortly. "She isn't picking up. She was staking out Spirit Quest?''

"Yeah, she wanted to talk to Isis… let me get out of this costume. We'll go check it out."

"I can't wait for you." He pushed his way through the crowd as Peabody shuffled and looked for Feeney.

– =O=-***-=O=-

She thought it was a dream at first when she woke, groggy and hot. Her head spun, and when she tried to lift a hand to it, she found she couldn't move.

Panic rushed in first. Her hands were bound. He'd often tied her hands when she was a child. Tied her to the bed, clamped a hand over her mouth to hold in her screams when he raped her.

She pulled at them, felt the vague, faraway pain of the straps cutting into her wrists. Her breath sobbed out as she struggled. Her legs were secured as well, tied down at the ankles so that her thighs were spread.

She whipsawed her head, trying to see. Shadows shifted through the room, chased by the flickering lights of dozens of candles. She could see herself in a mirror, a wall of black glass that reflected images and light.

She wasn't a child, and it wasn't her father who had tied her.

She forced down the panic. It wouldn't help. It never did. She'd been drugged, she told herself. She'd been brought here, stripped naked, and tied to a marble slab like a piece of meat.

Selina Cross meant to kill her, and maybe worse, unless she could keep her mind clear and fight back. She continued to work at her wrist straps, twisting, tugging, while she forced her mind to focus.

Where was she? In the apartment, most likely, though she couldn't quite remember. The club would have been too dangerous, full of people. It was more private here, in this room. This room where Alice had seen a child sacrificed.

What time was it? God, how long had she been out? Roarke was going to be pissed. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood to hold back the bubble of hysteria.

They would miss her, wonder about her. Peabody knew her last location, and they would check it out.

And what good would that do her?

Eve closed her eyes to wait for calm. She was on her own, she told herself. And she meant to survive.

The mirrored wall slid open and Selina, draped in an open black robe, slipped through. "Ah, you're awake. I wanted you awake and aware before we started."

Alban stepped in behind her. He wore a similar robe and the fierce, toothed mask of a boar. Saying nothing, he picked up a thick candle, set it between Eve's thighs. He stepped back, lifted an ivory-handled athame from a black pillow, then held it aloft.

"Now, we begin."

– =O=-***-=O=-

Roarke opened the door of his car when his pocket 'link beeped. He whipped it out. "Eve?"

"It's Jamie. I know where she is. They've got her. You have to hurry."

"Where is she?" As he spoke, Roarke climbed behind the wheel.

"That Cross bitch. They've got her inside the apartment. Or I think they do. I lost transmission when they got her out of the car."

Roarke didn't wait, but pushed the accelerator and flew through traffic. "What transmission?"

"I bugged her car. I wanted to know what was going on. I planted a transmitter. I heard stuff tonight. Cross told her to put the car on auto, go to the apartment. Dallas must've been drugged or something, because she sounded weird. And Cross said how she'd killed my grandfather and Alice." His voice flooded with tears. "She killed them both. And kids. And Christ…"

"Where are you?"

"I'm right outside their place. I'm going in."

"Stay out. Goddamn it, you listen to me. Stay out. I'll be there in two minutes. Call the cops. Report a break-in, a fire, anything, but get them there. Understand me?"

"She killed my sister." Jamie's voice was suddenly calm and cold. "And I'm going to kill her."

"Stay out," Roarke repeated, swearing as the transmission ended. Digging for control, he called Mavis's, snapped out a demand for Peabody when the call was answered with wild laughter.

He was already pulling up at Selina's building when Peabody answered. "Roarke. Feeney and I are heading to Spirit Quest right – "

"She's not there. Cross has her, most likely in the apartment building. I'm there now, and I'm going in."

"Jesus, don't do anything crazy. I'll call for a cruiser. Feeney and I are on our way."

"There's a young boy in there, too. You'd better hurry."

With no weapon but his wits and his will, he rushed the door.

– =O=-***-=O=-

They were chanting over her. Alban had lighted a fire in a black cauldron and the smoke was thick and overly sweet. Selina had discarded her robe and was now slowly rubbing glistening oil over her body.

"Ever been raped by a woman? I'm going to hurt you when I do it. So will he. And we won't kill you quickly, the way we did Lobar, the way we told Mirium to kill Trivane. It's going to be slow and unspeakably painful."

Eve's head was clear now, brutally clear. Her wrists burned, slicked with her own blood as she continued to strain against the straps. "Is this how you call up your demons? Your religion's a sham. You just like to rape and kill. It makes you a degenerate, just like any creep crawling in the gutter."

Selina brought her hand back, whipped it down hard over Eve's face. "I want to kill her now."

"Soon, my love." Alban crooned it. "You don't want to rush the moment."

He reached into a box, pulled a black cockerel out. It clucked and squawked, wings flapping as Alban held it over Eve's body. He spoke in Latin now, his voice musical, as he took the knife and sliced off the head. Blood gushed out, steaming over Eve's torso. Beside her, Selina moaned in ecstasy.

"Blood, for the master."

"Yes, my love." He turned to her. "The master must have blood." And very calmly, very quickly, he raked the knife over Selina's throat. "You have been so… tedious," he murmured when she stumbled back, breath gurgling as she grabbed at her throat. "Useful, but tedious."

When she collapsed, he stepped over her, removed the mask, set it aside. "Enough of the pageantry. She enjoyed it. I find it stifling." He smiled, charmingly. "I don't intend to make you suffer. There's no purpose in it."

The stench of blood was nauseating. Using all her will, Eve concentrated on his face. "Why did you kill her?"

"She'd ceased to be useful. She's quite insane, you know. Too many chemicals, I suspect, in addition to a defective personality. She liked me to beat her before sex." He shook his head. "There were times I actually enjoyed it. The beating part, anyway. She was very clever with chemicals." Absently, he ran a hand up and down Eve's calf. "And I discovered with the right direction, the proper incentive, she was a clever businesswoman. We've made an enormous amount of money over the last couple of years. And, of course, there's the membership contributions. People will pay ridiculous amounts of money for sex and the possibility of immortality."

"So it was just a con."

"Come on, Dallas. Calling up demons, selling the soul." He chuckled, delighted. "It's the best grift I've ever run, but it's hit its peak. Now Selina…" He glanced down, idly rubbed a thumb over his chin. "She became quite serious about it. She actually believed she had power." He studied the sprawled body with something like amused pity. "That she could see in the smoke, call up the devil." He smiled again, made the ageless sign for lunacy by circling his finger at his temple.

A sham. Eve thought, from the beginning, nothing but a long con for profit. "Most grifters don't add human sacrifice to the theme."

"I'm not most grifters, and a few realistic ceremonies kept Selina in line. She developed a taste for blood. So did I," he admitted. "That I did find addicting. Taking a life is a powerful thing, an arousing thing."

He let his gaze roam over her, appreciating the slim, subtle lines. Selina had been all lush curves, just on the point of overabundance. "I may have you first, after all. It seems a waste not to."

Everything in her revolted at the thought. "You were the one who had sex with Mirium, you were the one who told her to kill Trivane, to infiltrate the Wiccans."

"She is the most malleable of women. And under a little chemical inducement, some post-hypnotic suggestion, selectively forgetful."

"It was never Selina. That's where I was off. You weren't her lap dog. She was yours."

"That's very accurate. She was losing control. I've known that for some time. She did the cop on her own." His mouth thinned in annoyance. "That was the beginning of the end for this, and for her. He'd never have pinned us, and should have been left to fumble around until he gave up."

"You're wrong. Frank wouldn't have given up."

"Hardly matters now, does it?" He turned away, taking up a small vial and a pressure injector. "I'll give you just a bit, to take the edge off. You're really quite attractive. I can make you enjoy it when I rape you."

"There aren't enough drugs in the world for that."

"You're wrong," he murmured and walked toward her.

– =O=-***-=O=-

Roarke had to force himself not to enter the apartment at a run. If she was inside and in trouble, his rushing in could do her more harm than good. He closed the door quietly at his back. Since the security had already been bypassed, he knew Jamie had gone in.

Still, the movement at his side had him lashing out, grabbing at the throat.

"It's me. It's Jamie. I can't get into the room. They've installed something new. I can't bypass."

"Where is it?"

"There, that wall. I haven't heard anything, but they're in there. They have to be."

"Go outside."

"I won't. And you're wasting time."

"Then stay back," Roarke ordered, refusing to waste more.

He approached the wall, running his fingers over it, ordering himself to be thorough, methodical, while every instinct in him screamed to hurry.

If there was a device, it was well concealed. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his daily log, tapped in a program. He thought he caught the distant wail of a siren.

"What is that?" Jamie demanded in a whisper. "Jesus, is that a jammer? I've never seen one worked into a pocket diary."

"You're not the only one who knows the tricks." He began to play it over the wall, cursing it for being too slow, too inefficient. Abruptly, it emitted a low hum, beeped twice. "There's the little bastard."

As the door slid open, he crouched and, baring his teeth, prepared to spring.

– =O=-***-=O=-

She strained away from the injector, but it pressed against her upper arm, then just as quickly, was removed.

"No." With a quick laugh, Alban, set it aside. "Not for sex. That would be unfair to you and a blow to my pride. Afterward, I'll put you under deeply so you won't feel the knife. It's the least I can do."

"Just kill me, you son of a bitch." With a final vicious pull, she popped the strap, dragged one arm free, and shot her fist into his face. But when she reached for the knife lying beside her, it clattered to the floor.

Then, for just a moment, she thought the demons of hell had been loosed after all.

He came in like a wolf, with a snarl and a lunge. The force of Roarke's attack sent Alban flying back, sent candles flying to gutter out in pools of blood.

Rearing up, Eve struggled to free her other hand, and panic left no room for shock as she spotted Jamie. "Hurry up, for Christ's sake. Get the knife, cut me loose. Hurry!"

His stomach was heaving, but he stepped over Selina's body, grabbed the knife. Keeping his eyes locked on her wrist, he hacked at the strap.

"Give it to me. I can get the rest." Her gaze was locked on Roarke, the desperate struggle over the bloody floor. Fire was beginning to live in the corner, growing from upended candle to hungry flame. "There's the cops," she said when she heard the siren. "Go let them in."

"The door's unlocked." He said it calmly, flatly, as he moved to her feet to cut her ankles free.

"Do something about that fire in the corner," she ordered as she scrambled down.

"No, let it burn. Let the whole damn place burn to the ground."

"Put it out," she snapped again, then leapt like a madwoman onto Alban's back. "You bastard, you son of a bitch." Even as she dragged his head back, Roarke's fist flew up and cracked against his face.

"Get the hell back," Roarke demanded. "He's mine."

They rolled over in a violent tangle of limbs to discover only two of them were still conscious.

"Did he hurt you?" Roarke's eyes were still wild when he grabbed her arms. "Did he put his hands on you?''

"No." She had to be calm now, she realized, for he wasn't. She wasn't entirely sure what Roarke was capable of when he was in this state. "He never touched me. You took care of that. I'm all right."

"You were taking care of yourself, as usual, when I got here." He lifted her hand, stared at the blood seeping from the abrasions on her wrist, and lifted it to his lips. "I could kill him for that. Just for that alone."

"Stop. It's part of the job."

He was struggling to accept that. His jacket was ruined, a bloody mess, but he took it off and wrapped it around her. "You're naked."

"Yeah, I noticed. I don't know what they did with my clothes, but I'd just as soon be wearing something other than skin when the troops get here."

She rose, discovered she wasn't entirely steady on her feet. "They drugged me," she explained, shaking her head to clear it as Roarke moved her away, eased her down to sit on a clear spot on the floor.

"Just get your breath back. I have to put out that fire."

"Good thinking." She drew a couple of cleansing breaths as he used one of the robes to smother the flames flicking along the floor. Then she shot to her feet, cried out. "No. Jamie, don't." She took the first running steps forward, but it was already too late.

Face white, Jamie got to his feet. The knife still wet with Alban's blood was in his hand. "They killed my family." His eyes were huge, the pupils pinpricks as he offered the knife to Eve. "I don't care what you do to me. He won't ever kill anyone else's sister."

She heard the footsteps rushing through the outside door, and following instinct, gripped the athame by the handle so that her own fingerprints were on it. "Shut up. Just shut the hell up. Peabody." Eve turned as her aide rushed in, weapon drawn. "Get me something to wear, will you?"

Peabody's breath came out in three unsteady puffs as she scanned the carnage. "Yes, sir. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Cross and Alban ambushed me, drugged me up, and got me here. They've both confessed to the murders of Frank Wojinski and Alice Lingstrom, Lobar, Wineburg, and conspiracy to murder Trivane. Alban killed Selina, for reasons I will detail in my report. Alban was killed during the struggle to contain him. It was confusing, I'm not sure exactly how it happened. I don't think it matters."

"No." Feeney stood beside Peabody, scanned Jamie's face, then Eve's. And he knew. "I don't think it matters now. Come on, Jamie, you shouldn't be in here now."

"Lieutenant, with respect. I think it would be best if you and Roarke went home and cleaned up. You're a little too in tune with the season, so to speak."

Eve glanced at Roarke, grimaced. Blood and smoke coated his face. "You look disgusting."

"You should see yourself, Lieutenant." He slipped an arm around her. "I think Peabody has a point. We'll find a blanket. That should be sufficient to get you home without you freezing or getting arrested."

She wanted a bath so desperately she could have wept. "Okay. I'll be back in an hour."

"Dallas, it isn't necessary for you to come back tonight."

"An hour," she repeated. "Secure the scene, call the ME. Get that boy an MT. He's shocky. Contact Whitney. He'll want to know what happened here, and I want Charles Forte released as soon as possible."

Eve tugged Roarke's jacket more securely around her. "You were right about him, Peabody. Your instincts were on target. They're good instincts."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Use them again. If that boy says anything that doesn't jibe with my brief statement of the events, ignore him. He's emotionally wrecked and in shock. I don't want him questioned tonight by anyone."

Peabody nodded, kept her eyes carefully blank. "Yes, sir. I'll see that he's taken home. I'll remain on scene until you return."

"Do that." Eve turned, started to button the jacket.

"By the way, Dallas?"

"What, Peabody?"

"That's a lovely tattoo. New?"

Eve clamped her teeth together, strode toward the door with as much dignity as she could manage. "See?" She jabbed a finger into Roarke's chest as they walked down the corridor. "I told you I'd be humiliated by that stupid rosebud."

"You've been drugged, slapped, tied up naked, and nearly killed, but a rose on your butt humiliates you?"

"All that other stuff's the job. The rosebud's personal."

Laughing, he swung his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close. "Christ, Lieutenant, I love you."