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"Irving Nast... ?" was all he could say.
Robyn crossed her arms, gun dangling from her fingers, fixing him with a sharp look of disapproval. They'd finally gotten past the parroting and denials, and now he was backsliding.
"If I'm working for Irving Nast, why was I at his office a few hours ago?
"
Her disapproval slid into disgust. Obviously if he was working for Irving Nast, he'd have reason to meet with him.
"I went to question him on this case," he said. "Instead I met Sean Nast. Does that ring a bell?"
"Should it?"
"Ask Hope. She met him an hour ago - right after I left the Nast offices. You think that's a coincidence?"
She uncrossed her arms.
"Hope did meet with someone, right?" he prodded.
"Yes, a contact."
"Who was Sean Nast, the guy I met, who stonewalled me, shooed me out of his office, then raced off to meet your friend. So I would suggest I'm not the one working for the Nasts."
Robyn shook her head, her arms falling to her sides now. "Not Hope. Sean Nast is her contact in that organization. You talked to him, so he called her..."
"And I followed her from that meeting to this motel. All of which should mean I don't work for Irving Nast."
It wasn't a bulletproof argument and her look told him so, but she did ease back, thinking.
"You do have some supernatural power, though, right?"
"If you call it that."
"Hope said you're a necromancer."
That was the second time this week he'd heard that word. He didn't like the way it made him feel - uneasy and unbalanced. Like being the star in every school play, coming to L.A. and finding yourself one of a thousand actors who'd starred in every school play.
"I have no idea what a necromancer is..." Robyn continued.
It took a moment to notice her watching him expectantly.
"It means... ghosts," he said. "I see ghosts, communicate with them."
He braced himself for her eyes to light up, for her to say, "You can talk to the dead? My husband passed away six months ago. Can you... ?" He'd promised Damon he wouldn't tell her, not yet. But if she gave him that look, if those green eyes lit with hope, if she asked...
But it didn't register. Maybe because he'd said "ghosts" not "the dead." Maybe because, right now, Damon was miles from her mind.
"You talk to ghosts," she said, nodding as if assimilating. "Okay, that I can live with. It's a lot easier to believe than some of the others."
"Others?"
"The - " She stopped, studying him. "You really don't work for the Nasts, do you?"
He shook his head.
"You know nothing about the Nasts, do you?"
He shook his head.
