Heart Secret (22 page)

Sleek Black rubbed against her bloused trous.

“What! Get away from me, you filthy—” With a scowl and a short exhalation of breath, she abandoned her flirting and hurried away.

Garrett glanced at Sleek Black. “Nice going.”

Sleek Black purred.
Thank you. I get good treats, too?

“For sure,” Garrett agreed. He opened the back door and Gray Tabby zoomed from the alley and inside, followed by the female cat who'd seen the murderer stalk Eryngo, and Sleek Black. The fat brown female tabby wedged through the door opening, too.

“You want a treat, too?”

She revved a purr.
I have been following your lady for you. I hopped on the public carrier and We went to Primary HealingHall. I napped in the sun in the trees until she came out. Then she went home last night and ate with her Family.

Garrett stood motionless, hand on the door latch to the storage room. Sleek Black swiped at his ankle to get him moving again. Garrett should have stopped the plump female from her report on Artemisia but couldn't find it in himself to do so.

The cat wrinkled her nose.
It was a long walk. They put out food for Me. Food was good but not as good as yours. And then she and sister walked to the Healing pool and sat and swam. Then they went back home and went to sleep. This morning I ate there, too, and went to HealingHall and watched you both.

Sounded like the cat had missed the most stupid things Garrett had done. Just as well. And he was learning information. Artemisia lived with her Family near a Healing pool. Her home must be close to a HealingHall. Which one?

Whap!
Sleek Black's paw hit Garrett's ankle hard.
TREATS!

He pulled out some dried furrabeast steak bites on three plates. Gray Tabby wrinkled his nose, but when the others gobbled with an eye on his plate, crunched the bites down. After they were done, Garrett led the little parade back to the courtyard and put a pinch of catnip in front of each of the three.

The plump female licked it up, then fell on it, wriggled, and went to sleep, paws up. Gray Tabby snorted it in, then gamboled about the yard. Sleek Black rolled and rubbed on his, then ran away on his own cat business, tail waving.

In the distance a Temple rang NoonBell and Garrett's stomach grumbled. He didn't want one of the casual meals he kept here. A hearty lunch would be good. He wondered if Rusby had had his feedings and checked on the bond with his FamCat, felt a low-level hunger in the kitten, too. Have to find a place that would welcome Fams. Laev's wife, Camellia D'Hawthorn, had Fams . . . and two tearooms/restaurants that served food. He didn't want to go back to the original, where he'd inadvertently killed a guy, but Darjeeling's HouseHeart had substantial enough meals for a man.

Rusby?
he projected mentally. Got back an image of his kitten stretching hind end up and yawning.

Yes, FamMan? Food soon?

That's what I was going to tell you. Stay there and I'll teleport, then we'll go to Darjeeling's HouseHeart.

We will?

It serves Fams.

He sensed his kitten cocking his head, purring.
I would like to be served.

Garrett gave a short laugh. Thing was, he'd never admit it, but he'd like to be served this meal, too. No pulling something from the no-time.
I'll be there in ten minutes.

All right.

Garrett wanted to list a lot of
don't goes
but didn't want to put ideas into his Fam's small head. But before he went to lunch, he wanted to take the call from Laev.

He strode back to his office and hitched a hip on his desk, scried Laev T'Hawthorn.

The GreatLord answered, “Here.”

“You called? And I hope you took some messages about new cases for me.”

A smug expression settled on Laev's face. “I negotiated fees for a few.”

“What!”

Laev lifted his brows. “You were grossly undercharging for your services.”

Garrett narrowed his eyes. “Tell me you didn't soak any lower- or middle-class people.”

“I didn't soak any lower- or middle-class people.” Laev smiled. “But they were impressed when I told them you were on a secret mission for the FirstFamilies. You have two cases from that strata.” A throbbing pause. “Four from the Noble class, one GraceLord, two GrandLords . . .” Another pause where Laev turned serious and his mouth hardened. “And a vital commission from the FirstFamilies Council I was requested to present to you.”

“Ah. I don't mind charging the FirstFamilies Council a lot, soaking them.”

A short nod from Laev, but strain around his eyes.

“It's about the Modoc Eryngo murder, right?” Garrett said. “The FirstFamilies Council is accustomed to using Captain Winterberry as an investigator in high-Noble, high-profile cases, and he's got a big conflict of interest in this one.”

“You are a detective,” Laev said drily.

Garrett lifted and dropped a shoulder. “Not difficult to deduce.”

One side of Laev's mouth tilted in a half smile, then, in a habitual gesture, he tapped his fingers together. “As a matter of fact, the FirstFamilies Council likes the idea of not using an official Druida guardsman as an investigator.”

Garrett's scalp prickled.

Twenty-one

W
arning buzzed in the back of Garrett's mind as he stared at his
friend GreatLord Laev T'Hawthorn. “I can't be bought by the FirstFamilies.” Garrett's mouth flattened, then he smiled and crossed his arms. “Especially now I have enough gilt that I never need to work again.”

Another tap of Laev's fingertips and upraised brows. “Very good. I'm sure you will have to meet with a contingent of us”—he meant the younger generation of lords and ladies on the FirstFamilies Council—“and define your concerns and boundaries, but we know you to be a man of honor.”

That statement flicked Garrett straight on the raw. He hadn't acted with honor toward Artemisia. He kept his face impassive but saw a considering weight in Laev's eyes. But whatever Laev thought, he was Garrett's friend.

“I'm glad the FirstFamilies Council approves of me.” Garrett's turn to use a dry tone.

“We want you to make finding this murderer your first priority. Captain Winterberry will be in charge of the guards as they do their standard investigation, but he will report to you. We expect you to ensure that Winterberry's feelings do not cloud his judgement on this. We would prefer not to officially remove him. He is a good man and handled the original case, so has vital information.” Laev's expression soured. “And several of the FirstFamilies believe the fligger Eryngo got what he deserved.”

“Murder is not necessarily a good answer. Should have let the councils take care of the man,” Garrett said.

“You sound more like Captain of the Guards Winterberry than I'd anticipated,” Laev said.

Garrett recalled the greatest Nobles also had a habit of duels and feuding to settle problems. Well, he didn't care about that and sure wouldn't interfere.

“I'll take this case, since I'm already involved, but don't think I'll be the FirstFamilies' pet.”

Laev's face went bland. “Of course not. Later.” He ended the scry.

Garrett rubbed at his face. Had he insulted his best friend? Maybe. But since he meant what he'd said, he couldn't really take it back. His stomach rumbled again.

There was a quick
pop
and Gray Tabby was there, staring up at Garrett and licking tiny shreds of furrabeast from his paw.

“Yes?” Garrett asked.

Gray Tabby looked away.
Garrett . . .
Gray Tabby whispered.

Yes?

As if reluctant to go on, the cat flexed his claws once or twice. Finally he said,
The hunter was happy and proud. I do not like people who are happy and proud and kill for fun and not for food.

“I hear you,” he replied. “What—”

But Gray Tabby teleported away to someplace safe.

I am WAITING,
Rusby yelled down their bond.

And I'm coming now.

Good, I am hungry!

Garrett's gut emitted another sound.
I am, too.

*  *  *

F
or a while, Artemisia wandered through the trees of the Healing
Grove next to Primary HealingHall, letting the greenness soothe her and the heat of the sun allay her pain.

Garrett hadn't followed her. Her smile was small and tight as she considered that she'd given as good as she got. She shouldn't be glad of that, of inflicting pain, but she wasn't a priestess or a saint or a doormat.

He was gone from the grove and the building when she returned. Organizing her caseload soothed her even more, and visiting her new patients took her mind off anything else.

Soon it was time to meet her sister for the midday meal at Darjeeling's HouseHeart. Artemisia took the public carrier. She arrived first and was glad, since she wanted to use a private room. Camellia Darjeeling D'Hawthorn, the owner, was one of Tiana's best friends so Artemisia's request was granted.

She'd just opened the door to a small room that held three booths and a couple of tables when her sister hurried in. Tiana gave an absent wave to her friend Camellia behind the cashier counter.

As Artemisia was sinking into a chair at a table for two, Tiana grabbed her hand and moved them to a booth for four.

Artemisia raised her brows. “Who else is coming?”

Tiana beamed. “One of my colleagues. You've met him before, Leger Cinchona. I think you'd be a good couple.”

“All right.” But Artemisia felt twitchy. She had to bring up the murder. She said a Word to close the door and added a chiming alert when it opened. “I forgot to ask where you were the night before last and early the next morning. At home?” That could be tricky to explain.

Tiana stared at her, and sat, smoothing her priestess robe around her. “Why does it matter? Surely no one could suspect me of the murder.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or you.”

“The victim's name is Modoc Eryngo. He was the last Black Magic Cultist who sacrificed those people years ago.”

“What!”

“Yes.”

“But . . . but that has nothing to do with us!”

“Apparently he was the one who made the trail connecting us—our Family as cross-folk—to the crimes. That trail was more threatening than we thought; I believe Father spared us that knowledge.”

“He would.” Tiana frowned, then nodded as she worked out the ramifications of the information Artemisia had given her. Her eyes, as green as Artemisia's, searched her expression. “You have a solid alibi. You were watching Garrett Primross. And in the sentient Turquoise House.”

“Yes, I should be all right.”

Her sister didn't seem to hear Artemisia's doubts. Again Tiana nodded. “I attended a long spiritual vigil with
the
priest and priestess of GreatCircle Temple. The highest spiritual people in the land.” Tiana's lip curled. “Let anyone try and contradict that.”

Artemisia's breath whooshed out of her. She sat. “Good.”

The door dinged as someone tried to open it. Tiana gestured the spell gone. “Come in, Leger!” she called with enthusiasm.

A man about their age with long blond brown hair and a welcoming smile walked in. When his gaze lingered on Artemisia, she knew her sister had begun her matchmaking plans. Good.

Artemisia studied him, too. He was slender, with a narrow and interesting face engraved with a few lines—a thoughtful man, all to the good. She would
not
compare him physically to Garrett. Not make the same stupid mistake her HeartMate was in holding on to the past.

Leger came over to them. Before he could slide in next to Tiana, she rose. “I'll be leaving early.” She winked at both of them. “So you can talk and get to know each other.” She gestured and a laughing Leger took the inside booth seat.

Artemisia found herself smiling. It was refreshing to be with a man who wasn't brooding, someone open. Someone who frankly liked the way she looked and was disposed to like her.

Their conversation was casual and they ordered—Tiana no more than a sandwich—and Artemisia understood why her sister thought Leger might be a good match. All three of them had a common point of view on life.

From what he said, she understood that he knew her Family lived in the secret sanctuary of Druida, so she was comfortable being with him. One secret she didn't have to hide.

But . . . he was too comfortable. He reminded her of her father. Not even an incipient tickle of attraction.

And after Tiana left, there was a short silence as they studied each other. Leger seemed to acknowledge the fact that she wasn't flirting—and maybe that he found her too comfortable also—with a lopsided smile. They began to speak of Tiana and a career in the Temple.

Leger grimaced in dissatisfaction that he had not received his own Temple assignment yet.

Under her lashes, Artemisia considered him. Though his robes were the simple ones of a minor priest of the Lady and Lord, they were of expensive fabric and tailored for the man. He had gilt to use for his career.

“It has been my experience,” she said in a low voice as she lifted her wineglass, “that refurbishing an ancient place is extremely rewarding.”

His gaze pinned on her. “Yes?”

She sipped her wine, and it was good and tart on her tongue. “Yes, indeed. And, you know, some Temples are in a sorry state. Such as the one at Apollopa Park.”

His gaze sharpened. “That was the park where the body of a murdered man was discovered, right?”

“Yes.”

She saw calculation come to his gaze and continued, “It is a place that won't be forgotten soon. And the Temple is small and beautiful . . . and in disrepair. A wonderful challenge for someone. It could be exciting to bring back as a sacred space.”

His lips curved, and misty blue eyes lit with the first excitement she'd seen from him. “Yes. It would be.” He rose, and she did, too.

He offered his arm courteously and she thought that touch might confirm that there could be nothing between them. She was right, but the muscle in his arm was stronger than she'd thought.

He opened the door and let her lead, his fingers touching the small of her back. Leaning his head down toward her, he said, “I understand that the victim has been identified.” In silhouette his face hardened and nostrils flared. “As the last Black Magic Cultist.”

“That's right.”

Leger's forehead wrinkled. “The park will have to be cleansed and rededicated. As you said, a challenge.”

A sizzle zipped up her spine. Slowly she tilted her head until she could glance around the room from the corner of her eye. Garrett stared at her. Even across the chamber, she could feel his intensity, the tug on the bond between them.

Drawing in a breath with her diaphragm, she imagined the tiny tendril that linked her with the private investigator icing over. She
would not
allow it to interfere with her future.

He didn't want her. Fine.

Her spine stiffened. She was proving she was getting on with her life and that included a man other than him.

She smiled up at Leger. “Yes, a challenge—on three levels, physical, mental, spiritual.”

And he shared a slow smile she hadn't seen. “Sold. Do you know when the guards will release the area—”

HEALER ARTEMISIA! YOU ARE
HERE
! I AM HERE, TOO.
The shrill mental comment from the kitten nearly pierced her head.

Rusby bounded—using Flair—across several tables to land on her shoulder.
THIS IS FUN! AND THE FOOD IS GOOD, TOO!

Thanks to spells, not one hair or bit of pollen or dust flew from the kitten. Most people smiled; some looked confused, as if they weren't quite sure what had happened.

Leger grinned, scratched the kitten on his head with a forefinger. “Greetyou. Who may you be?”

I am RUSBY PRIMROSS,
the kitten shouted mentally.

Nodding, Leger said, “I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Priest Leger Cinchona.”

Garrett was there, plucking Rusby off Artemisia's shoulder. Leger inclined his torso to him. “And you must be GentleSir Primross himself. I've heard that all of Celta owes you thanks for a great service.”

“It's done,” Garrett answered.

“And I'm sure you're glad of it,” Leger said in a smooth priest's tone. Then he straightened and looked down at Artemisia. “And you were one who discovered the . . . unfortunate's . . . body yesterday.” Leger took her fingers and kissed them, eyeing Garrett. “I did not commiserate.”

“I'm fine,” Artemisia said; the odor of male hormones swirled around her.

A quick smile from Leger as he met her eyes, then switched his glance to Garrett. “I was going to ask you if you had any notion if the guards were done processing Apollopa Park for clues, and whether they would release it to Temple authorities.”

“I don't know. I'm not involved—” she began.

“I think they've gathered all the evidence they can,” Garrett said.

“Wonderful!” Leger enthused. “Artemisia told me of the Temple.” He squeezed her fingers, then apparently enthusiasm got the best of him and he dropped her hand to rub his own together. “Sounds like rehabilitating the Temple is an ace project for me.”

She noted that Garrett flinched at the same time she did when Leger said the word
project
.

With more roughness in his voice than Artemisia expected, Garrett said, “There's an herb garden that needs to be tended that was planted around the Temple.”

Leger nodded, took Artemisia's hand again. “Artemisia can help me with that, too. You must excuse us, we have plans to make.” With a last half bow, Leger tugged Artemisia from the restaurant.

She heard Rusby's mental comment,
Back to our food, FamMan,
before the heavy door closed behind her and Leger.

“Good meeting you.” Leger whisked her fingers to his lips. “I'll contact you and Tiana about rehab ideas.” He bowed to her with a distracted air and teleported away, eager to talk to his superiors about claiming Apollopa Park and the Temple.