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I knew he was not a heartless person, but he was fae. Perhaps telling me so bluntly meant that he wasn’t hiding that anymore. The fae were coldly practical. And as I looked at him, I understood the chilly practicality of his words; he would kill for my safety, as I did with thedraugr. A part of me was warmed at the thought of being held in such regard, but another part of me whispered that the feelings I was so afraid of were already deeper than I’d realized.
I took a deep breath. I couldn’t deal with that right now. First, I had to figure out what to do with Odem. Walking away seemed irresponsible, and I wasn’t going to take the suddenly sentientdraugrto my home.
But I really didn’t want blood on my hands because of my mistake—which is why I was about to do what might be the stupidest thing I’d done in years.
And that was saying something.
I was as sober as a judge when Eli and I walked to the door where we’d entered the morgue. I guess either I needed more of Eli’s touch to stay drunk or my magic had burned the drunk out of me. Either way, I was painfully clear-headed as I said, “I need you to get into the car first.”
I escorted him to the driver’s side rather than stopping on the passenger side. “Please?”
He unlocked and opened the door, but that was it. “Talk to me.”
“I have to tell someone about Odem,” I said as I shoved him backward into the car. “I’m not even sure she’ll come, but I need to try.”
“Tell who? Tell herwhat?”
“Beatrice. Just give me ten minutes.” I smiled, trying to appear reassuring. “It’s probably not the best plan.”
“I’m shocked,” he said drolly.
“If you need to leave, I—”
“Two minutes.” Eli reached out to me. “Don’t be reckless.”
“Who me?” I pushed the door shut and leaned against the car. To get out, Eli would need to slam his door into my back. He cared about me and his very expensive car enough not to do that unless it was truly urgent.
Cautiously, I sent my magic out like a net and thought her name, “Beatrice.”
I could hear Eli through the haze that was over me. Too much magic. Too often. I’d resurrected a man tonight. Oh, he was still dead as nails, but he had his mind. That ought not be the case. It had never happened before—and I was damned if I wanted to take all the blame. Maybe it was the injection.
“Beatrice, Beatrice, Beatrice,” I chanted.
Thedraugr’sname made me wish to be elsewhere. It made me want to be the sort of cold bitch I tried to be, but even if I didn’t care about the three men here at the morgue, I knew Odem had grandkids. A widow. Staff. A dozen humans would be there, innocents in most cases, and all I could think of was getting a call because children died.
“Geneviève.” Her voice was there before Beatrice was. This time, she was wearing the equivalent of an early Victorian formal dress. Her skirt was full, bodice fitted, and the whole thing seemed to be sewn of some kind of blue shimmering material. Darker blue lace trimmed the edges of the overskirt, the décolletage, and hem. A full dark lace waterfall draped from the sleeve edge and over her wrists and hands. A hat with a feather and a cameo necklace were her only accessories.
I nodded at the scary dead lady. My choice. My idea. Damn, I had some lousy ideas. I’d never met anyone as old or as scary as her, and I wasn’t entirely sure I could trust her. My aversion todraugrmeant that I did not trust her fundamentally, butsomeoneneeded to know about Odem.
“Thank you for responding.” I tried to sound calm, but my sword was in my right hand and my gun was in my left.
“Have you invited me to a beheading?” Beatrice glanced at my weapons. “Perhaps a duel?”
I scowled. “I’m not sure I could behead you, and I’m not intending to try tonight.”
Her laughter was musical, and I liked being laughed at about as much as I liked being sucker punched.
“Did you bring me a snack all wrapped up in a pretty box?” Beatrice glanced at the car, raised her brow, and peered inside.
The windows were darkly tinted, but I still prickled at her words. “If you ever—”
“Yoursare all safe from mine, at least those who obey me. I know your nest’s names and faces. They are marked as protected,” she said in a tone that reminded me far too much of my mother when she was exasperated with me.
“Mynest? Protected?” I goggled at the thought. Why would they be protected? And who was Beatrice in their world that people obeyed her that way? I had more questions the more she spoke—although she said everything as if I should already know it.
But Beatrice frowned, and she sniffed delicately. Whatever she sensed about Eli was enough for her to add, “Thatone, however, would be safe either way.”
I resisted the urge to look at Eli. I couldn’t see through the glass anyhow, but I wanted to stare. I wanted to ask what she smelled and if I smelled it, too, but didn’t register it to identify it.
