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And even if she did, sometimes warning them didn’t alter events, because there was no way to stop the reapers when a death was inevitable. I could only intervene when the matter was undecided.
“I know, but—”
“Mom, let it go. What we need to concentrate on is finding the connection between little Hanna and the second victim, and then stop this thing before it can attack anyone else.”
She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’ll talk to Fay and see what I can uncover.”
“I didn’t tell Mrs. Kingston how she died, so you’ll need to be careful.”
“I will.” She hesitated. “Will you be joining us for lunch tomorrow?”
Unease swirled through me. “I’ve already told you I would be, so why are you asking again?”
She waved my concern away, her gaze suddenly vague. “I’m meeting Fay tonight, that’s all. I should have information tomorrow.”
Which was the truth and yet, not all of it. That swirling sense of dread increased. “Mom, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing, Ris. All is well.” She hesitated. “You know I’m keeping stuff in the safe for you, don’t you? I mean, if anything should ever happen to me?”
> “Mom!” Alarm shot through me and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. “Fuck it, tell me—”
“Ris, it’s nothing,” she said quickly, as if sensing my distress. “I promise. I just wanted to make sure you remembered, that’s all.”
It was more than that—I felt it as deeply as I feared for her safety. And yet I knew she wouldn’t tell me anything. Not yet. “Is something going to happen between now and tomorrow, Mom?”
If there was, Aunt Riley was going to get a call. If not, I was talking to her after lunch tomorrow.
Mom’s gaze snapped back. “No. I’ll meet you tomorrow, love. Be careful with your Aedh—they are more than you can ever imagine, and they do not play by human rules.”
“Because they’re not—” The rest of the sentence died on my lips. Mom had already hung up.
I opened my mouth to say her name and reconnect, then stopped. If there was any immediate danger—either to me or to her—she would have said something. Whatever she was worried about, it would happen after our get-together tomorrow. Which meant I could confront her about it then.
I switched off the computer, grabbed my purse, and headed downstairs. It took me ten minutes to catch a cab, which meant it was exactly one o’clock by the time I got to Alimento. Only to discover the place was closed.
I frowned and peered in the front window. The restaurant was dark and the tables unset. There was no noise emanating from the place, but light seeped out from under a door at the back. I stepped away, checked that I did indeed have the right place, then got out my phone and rang Lucian.
“Don’t tell me you can’t make it,” he said, by way of answering. “Not when I’ve gone to the trouble of preparing a rather amazing Italian beef stew for you.”
“A proper Italian beef stew needs to be simmered for at least an hour and a half,” I said, smiling. “Did I not mention the fact that I own a restaurant and know a little about cooking myself?”
“Oh blast, caught out.” His smile was wide and not in the least repentant. “I shall have to admit that I merely reheat it, but that makes it no less amazing. And the bread is fresh and hot.”
“None of which will do me any good if you don’t tell me where you actually are. I’m at the door, the restaurant is closed, and you’re nowhere in sight.”
He laughed. “In my eagerness to impress you, I forgot to open the door. Forgive me.”
He hung up, and a moment later he appeared, sauntering toward the door, the grace and economy of his movements only emphasizing the dangerous power that seemed to reside within him. A power I could feel, even from out on the street.
Again that odd mix of excitement and fear swirled through me, and for a brief moment the itch to flee arose. Then I thrust the fear away and walked across to the door as he opened it.
His gaze swept me, then rose to meet mine, alive with desire and approval. The force of it vibrated through me, making my senses hum in pleasure. “You look lovely,” he said, kissing each cheek then stepping aside and motioning me in. “Perhaps we should skip the main meal and go straight to dessert.”
Yes, please, I thought. Because if that smile was any indication, dessert was me.
But all I said was, “Do you own Alimento?”
“No.” He locked the door behind us then touched his hand lightly against my spine. The heat of it travelled all the way down to my toes. “But the friend I’m staying with does. His apartment is upstairs.”
