Bronze Gods (25 page)

Their quarry, Theron Nuall, emerged from the main house before he could finish his thought. Nuall wore a grim expression, probably more dire than their visit warranted.
It’s not as if we came to arrest him. Yet.

“What is the meaning of this . . . intrusion?” he demanded.

No invitation to enter the premises, no hospitality. It definitely sets the tone.

Mikani’s abstraction told her all she needed to know, so she answered for both of them. “As we told your servant, we’re with the CID. We have a number of questions for you, regarding multiple murders in Dorstaad.”

“And I have no time for your city, Inspector. Or your questions.” He made a dismissive gesture with a long-fingered hand.

“Right now it’s only an interview,” Ritsuko said, “but if you give me reason, I’d love to haul you in for refusing to cooperate.”

Theron seemed taken aback. Then he laughed. “You . . .
threaten
me?”

“She’s warning you.” Mikani finally spoke. He sounded strained, but he stepped up beside her, his walking stick braced under an arm. “Really, though, wouldn’t you rather get rid of us quickly?”

The suspect’s face darkened ominously. “I would rather plant you in my garden.”

Mikani’s brows rose, and he stepped closer to the other man. “And I’d rather—” He stopped, let out a long breath. “Just answer the bloody questions. We have an eyewitness report linking you to four murders and evidence tying you to a couple more. So unless you give answers, we’ll call a horde of less courteous friends to trample your garden while asking you the exact same questions in much louder voices.”

Mr. Nuall’s face froze. Something shifted in his dark gaze—then froze. His demeanor changed in a way Ritsuko didn’t like or trust. “I . . . see. Those are serious charges. It would, indeed, be best for all concerned if I cooperate. Come with me.”

He wheeled abruptly and led them around the corner to a pretty park at the side of the house. There was a wrought-iron bench with matching table and chairs. The verdant plant life was an intoxicant—such a mixture of scents and colors.

Mr. Nuall gestured. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll endeavor to address your concerns.”

She chose the bench, facing him. Mikani sat beside her, walking stick across his knees.
There are no insects. How can a garden like this exist without them?
The whole time she had been within these walls, she hadn’t seen a fly or watched a bee buzz around a flower.
I wonder if Mikani’s noticed.
But it wasn’t the time to ask.

“Sir, a witness placed you in the Patchwork District on the night of a disturbance. Furthermore, it has been reported that you’re responsible for the death of four men.” Ritsuko checked her notebook and read off the date and approximate time. “Follow-up investigation revealed that four bodies were discovered in the street, early the next morning. Urchins notified the local constabulary. It has since fallen to us to determine the facts in this matter. Where
were
you that evening, and is there anyone who can substantiate your statement?”

“I was attending some business near the Patchwork District, yes. After concluding it, I came home. My man will vouch for that.”

Mikani raised a brow. “Can anyone vouch for you who isn’t in your employ?”

She stifled a smile.
That’s fairly polite; a nice way to state servants can be bought.

“I keep my dealings with outsiders to a minimum.”

“So you deny that you had anything to do with those four deaths?” Ritsuko asked.

Mr. Nuall offered a thin, cold smile. “People allege many things for many reasons. Jealousy. Envy. Ambition. If you had evidence to support my involvement, you wouldn’t be
questioning
me, would you, Inspectors?”

Time to wrap this up before he kicks us out.

“What can you tell us about these coins?” She produced a sketch, both front and back, that showed the stag’s head and the family motto.

For the first time since they’d settled in the park, she detected genuine surprise. She peeked at Mikani to see if he’d noticed, too, but he had his eyes closed. Lines of pain framed his mouth, making her think that the hum he’d mentioned before wasn’t getting easier to bear. She wanted to get up and massage his head, but he probably wouldn’t thank her for it at the moment—and it was shockingly unprofessional.

“Where did you get this?” Nuall demanded.

“As I mentioned earlier, we have evidence linking your family to two other crimes. These coins are directly related. Do you have any knowledge of them?”

“Last I knew, they were in my safe,” he said flatly. “If they’re being used in the city, it is without my permission.”

“You’re saying these are stolen?” Mikani opened his eyes, fixing the other man with a look Ritsuko couldn’t read. “Did you file a report?”

“How could I? I didn’t know they were missing until just now. If you’ll excuse me, I need to take an inventory. I’ll contact your office with a list of missing articles. Perhaps you can make yourself useful and locate my stolen property.” Mr. Nuall rose, a clear dismissal.

The suspect escorted them quickly, even impatiently, to the gate, which slammed behind them as a good indicator of the man’s temper. She noticed the shift in the air again—now cool and crisp, touched with the onset of cold weather. Along the road, the grass had turned brown, withered.
But inside, it’s eternally spring.

Ritsuko hurried toward the cruiser, anxious to return to the city.
I don’t like it here.
Though the estate was beautiful, it was a treacherous sort of loveliness like a stormy sea dashed against rugged cliffs with sharp rocks hidden in the churning water below. She took the keys and opened the doors, then as usual, she took the wheel. From Mikani’s pallor, she decided his head must be hurting, so she kept quiet until he stirred. Once they’d put some distance behind them, color started returning to his cheeks.

“Do you believe him?” she asked, fairly good at reading his silent cues.

“I’m not sure. He sounded angry enough to be telling the truth about the robbery.” He shook his head. “But he evaded every other question, and that . . . sound made it impossible for me to get a read on him. He’s hiding something. Let’s figure out what.”

CHAPTER 24

S
WALLOWING A YAWN,
A
URELIA PADDED FROM HER BEDROOM
into her sitting room. A fine layer of dust had settled in her absence. It had taken all of her powers of persuasion to convince Leo that the danger had passed. While Inspectors Mikani and Ritsuko had been more courteous than the first two officers in hearing her out, Mikani made it clear it would come down to Theron’s word against her own.

I tried to do the right thing. Time to move on.

During the days she’d spent with Leo, she hadn’t shouldered her responsibility to the cast and crew of the show. Nor had she stretched or danced at all. Consequently, her body felt stiff and sore, a feeling that would get worse if she didn’t address it. So she donned her leotard and went down to the conservatory, empty as usual, as per her father’s request. Members who failed to obey his few edicts didn’t last long at the club, and every man-about-town craved the bragging rights of membership at the Acheron. These days, few people would recognize the Architect if they shared a cigar with him, and her father exploited that powerful anonymity; he could take a man’s measure with a seemingly casual conversation, then destroy his ambitions with a few strokes of the pen.

A few minutes into her warm-up, Hargrave stuck his head in the door, probably to ensure that the music sprang from her presence and not an interloper. “Would you care for refreshments, ma’am?”

Aurelia smiled, wondering how the fellow felt; over the years, he’d gotten better at guarding his reactions. When she first met him, he was a beautiful young man with golden curls and a discreet infatuation for his employer’s daughter. Now, his hair was silver, and he had long since put aside those feelings, had married and raised a family. There might even be grandchildren by now.

“No thank you. Is my father well?”

“He keeps busy.” He hesitated. “I think . . . he misses you.”

She arched her back and bent, then lifted her leg onto the barre. “Did he say so?”

“Not in so many words, no.”

“That will be all, Hargrave.”

Aurelia lost herself in the movements—in the spins and flexing leaps, each one pushing her body a little more. A chill crawled over her flesh. She stumbled and whirled, scanning the conservatory. She’d felt this before, the sense of unseen eyes. It had been going on for months, long before she first met Theron. Feeling ridiculous, she searched the room, peering under the piano and behind draperies.

There’s no one here.

Angry at herself for letting her imagination run away with her, Aurelia threw herself into the steps. A punishing hour later, she felt calmer. Little by little, she’d reclaim her life, return to routine. Soon she wouldn’t recall the details of this tempest. Taking a newssheet from the foyer, Aurelia used back hallways to return to her upstairs apartment. Now and then, staff acknowledged her with a nod or a bobbed curtsy. This was a lonely life sometimes, but more under her control than it would have ever been otherwise.

If I’d agreed to my father’s schemes, I would have him managing my affairs, as well as an interfering husband. And I’d only dance at parties.

In the safety of her flat, she ordered a meal and curled up in her favorite chair with the latest news. The front page featured a huge article on the death of the maniac Gregory Toombs. Aurelia read:

The madman responsible for the deaths of two girls in his infamous murder machines was killed at the Port Authority last evening by unknown assailants. At the time, the CID has not responded to our inquiries regarding the victims’ identities or what connection they had with Toombs. Two inspectors were on the scene; both have offered “no comment” on their involvement, though Commander Gunwood issued the following statement.

“We’re pleased citizens can rest easy now that we’ve done our jobs. Please permit the victims’ families privacy and the opportunity to grieve.”

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of her luncheon, so she let the maid in. “Would you mind sending someone up to tidy a bit?”

The girl, clad in a tidy black uniform, dropped a smart curtsy. “Not at all, ma’am. I’ll take care of it later today if that would be convenient.”

“Perfect. I’m going to the theater in a little while anyway.”

Another curtsy, and the maid departed. Aurelia ate by herself, trying not to recall all the meals that had passed in just this fashion. For too short a time, she’d imagined she had found a solution in Theron, a lover who wouldn’t wither before her eyes.

But that was before.

Resolved not to let him hurt her anymore, she drew some hot water and mentally ran through the numbers that needed the most work. The dancers would be rusty, too, from the unexpected shift in rehearsals; however well-intentioned, her assistant didn’t have Aurelia’s drive or focus.
We’ll double up until we make up for lost time.
They’d complain vociferously, but when the fantastic reviews arrived, she had no doubt she would be crowned with accolades by the cast, despite being a harsh taskmistress.

After her bath, she donned her robe, then went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea, added milk and sugar just the way she liked it. She carried it toward the sitting room, still thinking about the production. A dark figure stood just inside her window, the one that led from the balcony. The porcelain cup slipped from her fingers to shatter on the floor, and she opened her mouth to scream, only to find her voice silenced at a gesture. Magic prickled over her like a noose. She couldn’t move a muscle; terror cascaded through her in overwhelming waves, trapped in her head.

“I am most curious, Aurelia, why you felt it was your duty to spy upon me.” Theron sounded silky, but the fevered glitter of his dark eyes revealed his utter rage. “I will return enough of your voice to whisper, not enough to sound the alarm.”

The clutch of magic eased on her throat, and she spoke in a low, breathless gasp. “I needed to learn your agenda. To gain an advantage in the challenge between us.”

“Some games are simply too dangerous,” he snarled. “Do you have any notion what you’ve
done
, how badly you’ve complicated my plans?”

“From what I saw, it was necessary.” If he imagined she could ignore such brutal behavior, then he had the wrong notion of her character entirely.

“You understand nothing. You’re like a child, playing at strategy when you have no idea of the consequences.”

“Then explain it to me.” If she could keep him talking, perhaps she could find a way to free herself before he killed her; the memory of his fingers shifting into monstrous talons flashed bright and sharp. Unfortunately, she had no ability to negate his magic. Aurelia only had the truth-sense, which applied to spoken words.

His features softened, touched by regret—or something else, a complex blend of emotions she had no key with which to interpret.
No, it doesn’t have to be like this. Don’t do this.
“Perhaps I might’ve trusted you, given time. You might have understood . . . and possibly even helped me.”

Helped you kill people? I hardly think so, maniac.
But she maintained a neutral mien as she asked, “How did you know it was me who reported you?”

Surely the inspectors didn’t reveal my identity.
If they had, then she would reconcile with her father with the express purpose of seeing them punished.
If I survive.
At that juncture, it didn’t seem like a safe assumption. Aurelia only knew she’d fight for her life. She struggled against his hold, feeling the strands loosen.

“When the CID came to my villa, Aurelia, I realized there was only one person who could have told them where to find me.”

So they questioned him, and he deduced my involvement.

He went on, sounding genuinely pained, “Do you know
how long
it’s been since I permitted anyone within those walls? Inside my garden?”

For a moment, doubt assailed her. She remembered the sweetness of that night, the loveliness of the plants he’d nurtured, and the way he’d cooked for her with such care. The two sides of this man seemed diametrically opposed. How could he create such beauty and kill with such savagery? It seemed impossible.

“I only wanted to know you better—to understand your sudden interest in me. Over the years, I’ve learned to guard my flank. There are those who seek to use me.”

“Yet you betrayed
my
trust.” He moved toward her, eyes dark and implacable.

Terror lent her unprecedented strength. She pulled a wave of air into her throat and produced a bloodcurdling scream that stopped him in his tracks. Already, she heard movement downstairs; the walls were thick, but not enough to block out such a sound. The magic holding her slipped away, and she scrambled for the door. When she glanced back, he was already gone, but it didn’t stop her. She ran out of her apartment and down into the club. Aurelia didn’t stop until she found Hargrave.

“There was a man in my room,” she panted out.

The man’s eyes widened, and he reached for her, before apparently realizing it would be inappropriate. He dropped his hands. “One of the club members?”

With some effort, she collected herself. Even in such circumstances, hysteria was unacceptable. “No. An intruder. Will you do two things for me?”

“Of course, miss.”

“Send a message to Mr. Leonidas at the Royale. And summon a couple of sturdy men from the gardens or . . .” She gestured, indicating she didn’t care where the guards came from. “I need to dress, but I don’t care to go alone.”

“I’ll accompany you myself,” Hargrave said. “Your father would expect no less. And I shall summon security at once. If you’ll wait in my office?”

It was a discreet way of getting her out of the public rooms while she was barefooted, tangle-haired, and clad in a white robe. But she didn’t argue the suggestion, merely hurried along the corridors until she could hide in the masculine sanctuary Hargrave offered.
Bronze gods only know what Father will make of this. He may think it’s a ploy; and that I’m trying to get him to be the first to break our silence.
It might seem extreme to an outsider, but it was consistent with games Aurelia had played with her father over the years. There was little doubt Hargrave would include this incident in his report to the Architect; it only remained to be seen what her father would do about it.

Ten minutes later, Hargrave returned with three men. By their grave demeanors and sober clothing, they were part of the team that dealt with members who became inebriated and difficult. Sometimes it took a heavy hand to convince them either to retire to a room upstairs to sleep it off or, in worst-case scenarios, that their behavior was no longer suitable for the Acheron Club and, therefore, they must surrender their memberships. Aurelia felt certain those negotiations were occasionally forceful.

The first man said, “There’s no sign of how he got in, but he went out the window. There are footprints below, leading to the garden.”

“Aye, I saw him running,” another added. “But he was too fast. He raced right past me and went over the wall like he was hurdling a squat little hedge.”

Since the wall around the club was ten feet high and covered in iron spikes, that was no small feat. Aurelia wasn’t surprised. She wished they’d managed to catch him, but that was an unreasonable expectation of men who handled more mundane disturbances.

“Be careful,” she warned. “This wasn’t a simple intruder. He’s a killer . . . and he knows I saw him in the act.”

Hargrave paled. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“In any event, we’ve checked the building from top to bottom, miss.” The largest guard spoke in a respectful tone, eyes on ground.

Likely because of what I’m wearing.

The factotum seemed deeply troubled, but he didn’t volunteer whatever was bothering him. “I’ve notified the authorities, and they’re on the way. If you’ll come with us, we can escort you to your flat now.”

“Thank you.” Aurelia had no intention of staying there. She’d pack a bag.

There has to be someplace Theron can’t find me. Maybe I’ll take a vacation to the Winter Isle.
She wanted to pretend she wasn’t frightened, but the truth was, the terror still clutched in her chest, a long night of the spirit where the sun never rose.
He can get to you anywhere,
a little voice whispered, and she made a dismissive gesture as she followed the men through the club and up the stairs to her apartment.

She found it hard to focus on her appearance with the sound of four men rummaging in her flat.
Looking for clues,
she told herself, but it felt like one more violation, until she didn’t have any privacy or dignity left. It had been hard enough to carve out a life for herself from the unforgiving mountain of her father’s silence. He didn’t care that she produced shows; what he couldn’t fathom was that she wanted to escape the endless machinations and political maneuvering.

Her father
thrived
on it. Aurelia didn’t.

As she straightened the white collar of her simple blouse, a commotion started in the sitting room. Fearing the worst, she stepped out of her bedroom to find Leo struggling with the guards; Hargrave, who could have identified Leo, was gone. Her friend broke free and put one of them on the ground with a ferocious overhand blow.