Poison Fruit (11 page)

But then, there were those black, black eyes, which shouldn’t have been disconcerting, since I saw the same thing in the mirror every day. Yet they were.

And then there was the smell. Except it wasn’t a smell, not exactly. It was a sense
like
a smell, the olfactory equivalent of someone striking a hideously discordant note on a piano or screeching fingernails over a chalkboard.

All I know is that it made my skin prickle in a distinctly unpleasant way.

Dufreyne paused in the doorway, his too-black gaze skating over me. His nostrils flared slightly, and he permitted himself a faint smile.

“Mr. Dufreyne,” Amanda said briskly. “I do apologize for bringing you here under false pretenses, but I understand you’ve been avoiding returning Ms. Johanssen’s calls, and frankly, I’m a little curious myself about what the company you represent is planning to do with the property you’re acquiring on their behalf.”

“I’m sure you are.” He had a smooth, mellifluous voice. I could see Amanda Brooks relaxing visibly at the sound of it, and if it hadn’t been for that smell, which apparently was undetectable to mundane mortals, it might have worked on me, too. “I assure you, the party I represent has nothing but Pemkowet’s best interests at heart.”

“Which are?” I said bluntly.

His gaze lingered on me. “Daisy Johanssen, I presume?” He offered his hand. “A pleasure.”

I didn’t want to shake his hand. I really didn’t. But my mother had raised me to be polite, and there was a part of me that was just plain curious, so I did. It felt like shaking any ordinary human’s hand, but there was something about the press of his flesh against mine that gave me the creepy-crawlies. He smiled again without any warmth, and I
had the impression of something unpleasant lurking behind his black pupils, like the flicker of a shark’s tail in dark waters.

When he let go of my hand, I had to fight the urge to wipe it on my skirt. “So tell me about Pemkowet’s best interests.”

“All will be made clear in due time.” Dufreyne took a seat uninvited. “Business deals are complicated. My employers are under no obligation to divulge their plans prematurely.”

Ignoring a disapproving look from Amanda, I hiked my butt onto the corner of her desk so I could keep him in view. “Elysian Fields?”

His eyelids flickered with annoyance. “Yes.”

Amanda cleared her throat. “Mr. Dufreyne, I must say, the sheer amount of property—”

Dufreyne held up his left hand to forestall her, then lowered it quickly, but not before I caught a glimpse of a symbol etched on his palm, the lines a golden shimmer. It was similar to the silvery lines of the Norse rune etched on my own palm, although it didn’t look like any rune I’d ever seen. “Again, I assure you, there is no cause for concern,” he said in that velvety voice. “I have no doubt that Pemkowet will be delighted when the plans are unveiled.”

“I do,” I said.

His black gaze flicked over me. “Then I look forward to your surprise when you find yourself convinced otherwise. Ms. Brooks, since I’m here, shall we discuss the offer on the table for the Cavannaugh property?”

“I really haven’t any intention of selling.” Amanda sounded uncertain and her features had taken on an unfamiliar vague look.

I kindled my mental shield, spinning it into a disk wide enough to encompass us both. “She really doesn’t.”

“I really don’t,” she repeated in a stronger tone.

“Interesting.” Daniel Dufreyne arched one manscaped eyebrow. Goddammit, why was it that everyone in the eldritch community but me could do that? “Well, then.” He rose. “I’m sorry we’ve wasted each other’s time.”

“That’s it?” I let my shield dwindle. “You’re just giving up? You’re not going to pit your powers of persuasion against me?”

Another smile, this one condescending. “Powers of persuasion? What a quaint term for a modern young lady.”

If my tail hadn’t been tucked on account of the hard desk beneath my butt, it would have been lashing. “You know what I mean.”

“I know the circumstances have changed since the initial offer was made.” Dufreyne addressed Amanda. “And I will tell you this as a courtesy, Ms. Brooks. Eventually, you
will
want to sell that property, and if you choose not to accept this offer, the next one may not be as generous.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked him, expanding the circumference of my shield to cover Amanda again.

“No, Ms. Johanssen.” He leveled his black gaze at me. “A fact. Ms. Brooks, you have my number. Good day, ladies.”

Swearing under my breath, I grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from Amanda’s desk, sketching out my best approximation of the symbol I’d glimpsed on Dufreyne’s left palm while he let himself out of the office.

“Daisy—” Amanda protested.

“Back in a sec.” I followed Dufreyne into the parking lot. “Hey! I wasn’t done talking to you. What do you mean, circumstances have changed?”

Standing beside a silver Jaguar, he fished out his car keys. “All I’ll say is that according to the rumors I hear, a lot of people have been very busy since the events of Halloween.” His black gaze with dangerous things swimming in it fixed on me and he smiled again, showing his very white teeth. “Why don’t you ask me what you
really
want to know?”

That foul smell that wasn’t a smell hit me, and the pit of my stomach lurched. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “How can you be? I mean, you did it, didn’t you? Claimed your birthright?” I waved one hand. “And yet—”

Dufreyne leaned close to me, the reek of wrongness that hung about him intensifying. “And yet the Inviolate Wall still stands,” he whispered in a silken tone, his breath hot against my face. “Is that it?”

I held my ground with an effort. “Yes.”

He laughed. It wasn’t a full-on villainous
mwah-ha-ha
, but it was close. “I don’t know whether to envy you or pity you, Daisy Johanssen. You honestly don’t know what the difference is between us, do you?”

I gritted my teeth. “Well, I can think of a few.”

For a long moment, he just stood there, his gaze boring into mine, the stench of his existence surrounding me. “Your mother was an innocent,” he said at length. “Foolish and ignorant, but innocent.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, it makes all the difference.” This time Dufreyne’s smile was bitter. “Only one of our kind conceived in innocence has the power to breach the Inviolate Wall and destroy the world as we know it. One such as you.” He shook his head. “But you’ll never use it, will you?”

“No,” I said automatically.

“More’s the pity,” he observed. “I hope you appreciate the irony. You, possessed of world-shattering power, can never use it.”

“Why the fuck would I?” I asked. “Why would you? Why would
anyone
?”

Dufreyne did the eyebrow-raise. “To reign over the resulting chaos?”

Beneath my skirt, I swished my tail back and forth. “Yeah, that’s not really on my bucket list.”

“No, of course not,” he said. “Because you were raised to love and cherish this tiresome world, to live a tiresome mortal life and die a tiresome mortal death.”

I eyed him. “If you’re that bored, maybe you need a hobby.”

“A hobby.” The notion seemed to amuse him. “Yes, thank you for the suggestion. Perhaps when this business is concluded, I’ll take a flower-arranging class.” He beeped his Jaguar unlocked and turned to open the driver’s-side door. “In the meantime, I have a vocation.”

“Wait!” I called out. “Your mother . . . If she wasn’t innocent, what was she?”

He paused, his back to me. “Complicit.”

“I’m sorry.” The words came unbidden.

His shoulders tensed visibly before easing, but the tone of his
response gave no indication that my sympathy had struck a nerve. “Don’t
be. She was well compensated for it.” He got into his car. “I may not be capable of destroying the world, but I can wield influence over it, and there are those who value my skills.”

“Like who?” I asked him. “Satan’s Planned Parenthood? Whoever’s behind this whole Elysian Fields thing? What do you mean when you say a lot of people have been busy since Halloween?”

“Good day, Ms. Johanssen.” Daniel Dufreyne closed his car door, cracking the window. “I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

I watched him pull out of the parking lot. “No shit.”

Twelve

I
ducked back into the PVB office.

“Wow, way to throw yourself at Mr. Brooks Brothers, Daisy,” Stacey observed. “Not exactly subtle.” I shot her a glance, and she had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Don’t have anything to do with that guy,” I said to her. “He’s bad news.”

“Like what?”

I hesitated, then flashed her the devil-horns sign with my right hand. As far as I was concerned, Daniel Dufreyne wasn’t protected by the eldritch honor code. “One of my kind gone to the dark side.”

Her face paled. “Are you serious?” She cast an involuntary glance upward, as though the Inviolate Wall were hovering above us. “I didn’t think you could do that without . . . you know.”

“
I
can’t,” I said. “But he can. Apparently, not all hell-spawns are created equal.”

I knocked on Amanda’s office door and went in to retrieve the sketch I’d made, apologizing for my hasty departure.

“That’s quite all right.” Amanda Brooks sounded shaken, which
was disconcerting in and of itself. “Did you learn anything further from him?”

“Not really.” Well, that whole only-one-conceived-in-innocence thing was a pretty big bombshell, but that wasn’t what she was talking about. “I asked him what he meant by circumstances changing, and all he’d say was that a lot of people had been busy since the events of Halloween.”

She frowned. “Meaning what?”

“I wish I knew.” I held up the piece of paper with my sketch. “He had a mark on his palm. Like mine, only different. You wouldn’t have been able to see it,” I added. “It’s an eldritch thing. It could mean that he’s sworn to someone’s service like I’m sworn to Hel’s. Or it could be something altogether different. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“You don’t know?” Amanda’s voice took on an accusatory tone, which was annoying, yet reassuringly familiar.

“Look, it’s not like my job came with a training manual,” I said. “I’m just doing my best to figure it out as I go along, whether that means doing a Google search like everyone else, or bargaining with fairies and hunting bogles . . . Oh, crap.”

She raised an inquiring eyebrow. Okay, so can
everyone
but me do the one-eyebrow-raise thing?

“Sorry,” I said. “Just thought of something.” I tucked the sketch into my messenger bag. “Thanks again for setting up the meeting. I appreciate it.”

Amanda gave me a brusque nod. “I don’t know where this is going, but I don’t like it. Keep me in the loop.”

“Will do,” I promised.

Outside, I called Cody.

Investigating the suspicious purchases of large tracts of land in Pemkowet was something Hel had specifically asked me to look into, and it had occurred to me that since Dawn and Scott Evans were safely warded and there were no rumors that the Night Hag had struck elsewhere, reporting to Hel had to be my top priority.

And unfortunately, that could only be done after sunset, which meant our bogle hunt would have to wait until tomorrow night.

“Goddammit, Daise,” Cody grumbled into the phone after I’d explained it to him. “I had to call in a favor from Ken Levitt to cover my shift tonight.”

“Well, can he cover it tomorrow instead?” I asked. “I mean, I’m sorry if it inconveniences him, but it is a request from a goddess, after all.”

Cody laughed. “Good point, Pixy Stix.”

I sighed inwardly. “Well, let me know. If you can’t get off tomorrow night, maybe we can go when I get back from Little Niflheim.”

“Or I could go alone,” he said. “I can track the bogle without you.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have Hel’s authority to question the bogle,” I said. “Believe me, it’s hard enough to get answers out of the fey with it. Without it, you’re screwed.”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

I headed over to the Sisters of Selene to see if Casimir recognized the symbol, waiting while he assisted a couple of middle-aged shoppers poring over his selection of crystal pendants.

“Hey, I know you,” one of them said to me as Casimir rang up the other’s purchase. Her eyes widened, and she mimed a stabbing gesture. “You’re the ghostbuster girl from those YouTube videos, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted reluctantly. I’d tried to keep a low profile after the Halloween parade debacle, but a number of spectators had gotten footage of the incident, including me using
dauda-dagr
to dispatch the Tall Man’s reanimated remains. “Guilty as charged.”

The shopper shivered. “I have to say, that looked absolutely terrifying. Claire and I even considered canceling our annual holiday shopping trip, didn’t we?” she said to the other woman.

“We did,” Shopper Claire agreed. “But Pemkowet has the
cutest
boutiques with the most unusual items.”

“Thanks ever so much, dahling,” Casimir said to her, wrapping up the pendant she’d purchased and tucking it into a little cardboard box. “We do appreciate it, don’t we, Daisy?”

“We certainly do,” I agreed. “And I assure you, what happened on Halloween will never happen again.”

“Well, I should hope not,” the first shopper said in a tart voice. “If
you ask me, it was irresponsible of the city to use all those dreadful ghostly appearances to promote itself in the first place. It’s exploiting the dead, may they rest in peace, and putting the living in jeopardy.”

I raised my hands. “You’re preaching to the choir, ma’am.”

That appeared to mollify her. “I’m glad to hear it.”

I watched them make their exit, purchase secured. “Have you been hearing a lot of that, Cas?”

“More than I’d like, Miss Daisy.” He tidied his counter. “What can I do for you today? Has the Night Hag struck again?”

“No, all’s quiet on the Night Hag front. I’m here about something else.” I gave him the background and showed him my sketch, which, by the way, looked like a capital letter
C
with a cross added to it.