The Charmer (35 page)

Jasmine raised her thumbs and shrugged her
right shoulder. “Well, there’s your problem right there. You don’t
make
Ri do anything. Nobody does.”

A hint of coolness slipped into Rhapsody’s
voice. “She responds well enough for Jayems.”

Staring at the colorless tea set, Jasmine
laced her fingers together over her stomach and twiddled her
thumbs. “Granted, but there’s elements there you just can’t
duplicate.”

“She loves him, is that it?”

One look at Rhapsody’s tight lips was enough
to convince Jasmine that she was on shaky ground. “I’m sure she
cares for you, too.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“Platitudes will not serve me.”

Jasmine suppressed a shiver as her hostess
took on the unyielding nature of one of her statues. If she’d ever
harbored any doubts that Rihlia’s mother disliked her, they were
all wiped away in that instant.

Stalling for time, she dipped a finger in her
too hot tea, started to raise it to her lips and then froze. She
reached for her bone white napkin and carefully wiped her finger
clean, and it was not because she’d suddenly remembered her
manners.

The tea was poisoned.

She sat back, staring at Rihlia’s mother for
a long moment. Finally she said, “It’s a bit harder to poison a
girl when she’s wearing one of these.” She raised her clenched
right fist, the back of her knuckles facing her would-be murderess,
and the symbiont flashed with silver anger. It was comfortable, fat
and happy, and it did not like threats to its tasty hostess. It had
been the one to sense the danger and send a warning tingle of
awareness to Jasmine.

The
change
came so quickly that
Jasmine almost missed Rhapsody’s shift from human to other. There
was barely time to register shock at the sight of a white Haunt
before she leapt for Jasmine’s throat, claws bared.

There was no time to leap away.

The force of the dive took both Jasmine and
the chair over backwards, shattering china and splashing poisoned
tea on the way.

Keilor’s friends had been even better
teachers than Jasmine realized. Without thought, Jasmine’s body
braced for the fall even as her legs came up to shove Rhapsody off
with surprising force. The white Haunt went flying, and Jasmine
just made it to her feet before Rhapsody rushed her again. Forced
to act, Jasmine sidestepped and slashed at her with the long knife
her symbiont formed, and the Haunt hissed as raw wounds opened
across her arm and abdomen, leaving the white gown in tatters.

Hammering started at the heavy door.

“That’s two,” Jasmine warned her grimly,
blocking out the sound as an irritation that could cost her life.
Mathin would have had her head for such hesitation, but she’d never
taken a life, and she didn’t want to start with her best friend’s
mother.

“Don’t make me kill you,” she grated, her
voice raw. For her child’s sake, she couldn’t afford to hesitate
again.

Rhapsody’s lip curled, and a frightening
madness flashed in her eyes as she charged.

The symbiont flashed as Jasmine struck back,
aiming for the white Haunt’s stomach. A split second later her
adversary was clutching her abdomen, trying in vain to hold in the
spill of intestines. Blood ran down her legs, a spreading crimson
stain on the white carpet.

The door burst open, and the Haunt barely
checked before coming to Rhapsody’s aid. One rough hand closed over
Jasmine’s right biceps just as her knees buckled.

Unfortunately, her faint lasted less than ten
seconds, and she came to just in time to be hit full in the nose by
the smell of slaughter. Dazed, she found herself on her knees
beside the steaming body, emptying her guts. The blood from the
carpet soaked onto her hands, and with a whimper, she crawled two
feet away and pressed her head to her forearm, waiting for the
surging darkness to stop.

“Here,” someone said, grabbing her hair and
coaxing her head up. Raziel wiped her mouth with a damp napkin.
“What happened?”

“Poisoned tea,” she stammered, so softly no
one else heard. He let her go and went to collect a sample from the
wreckage around the tea table.

The next few minutes were a confusion of
raised voices, screams and accusations as Rhapsody’s sister arrived
on the scene and started demanding explanations and Jasmine’s
execution.

“
She killed her!
How can you just
stand there? Do something!” Lady Portae shrieked, kneeling at the
body of her sister, who would forever remain in Haunt. Keilor might
have survived a similar wound, but he was young and fit. There was
no hope of that here.

Jasmine hid her face in her hands, forgetting
the blood until she’d smeared it all over her face.

“What happened?”

Jasmine looked up at the sound of Keilor’s
stern, concerned voice. His lips tightened at the sight of her
pale, blood-smeared face and contracted pupils. He’d already heard
Raziel’s report and sent him off with a sample of the tea, but he
needed more details. “What happened?” he asked again, more
gently.

Jasmine looked up, saw Rihlia’s stricken
face, and her throat closed over the words. How could she tell her
best friend that her mother had tried to kill her, twice? Instead,
she closed her eyes and bent her head, trying to will her ears
shut. The sound of Portae’s shrill voice faded as somebody dragged
her off. Silence roared in the white room.

“Talk to me, Jasmine,” Keilor said again, a
hint of fear for her in his commanding tone. “Tell us what
happened.”

“Nothing,” she whispered, and winced. Those
weren’t the words he needed, were nothing close to what he wanted
from her, and she knew it.

He took her by the chin and raised her face,
giving her head a little shake when her wild eyes darted to the
tense Jayems and pale, bright-eyed Rihlia.

“I am in charge of justice, here, wife, and
you will tell me what happened. I want the truth from you, and I
want it now. What happened here?”

A low groan escaped her at his compelling
command, and she wrenched her bloody face away, trying to escape
his will. Maybe she was in shock, but Rihlia seemed to be the
priority now. She didn’t want to hurt her.

He stood up, looked at her and circled the
room, studying the furniture. “You sat here, didn’t you?” he asked
with implacable purpose, pointing to the overturned chair. “It
carries your scent.” She nodded, biting her lip. Wariness churned
inside her, but it wasn’t a betrayal to answer questions whose
answers he already knew, was it?

Cocking his head, he studied the overturned
table and tea service, his face thoughtful, dangerous. “The
direction this table tipped tells me that Rhapsody leapt over it to
get at you, likely knocking the chair over at the same time.” He
moved closer until he was stood over her, studying her scared face.
“What made her do that, wife?”

Jasmine closed her eyes, shutting him out,
trying to ignore the way he kept calling her wife, reminding her of
his intimate authority over her. “She just did.”

He stared at her, the fathomless darkness in
his eyes weighting her, making it difficult to breathe. “Before or
after you brought up the poisoned tea?”

“It wa

” she snapped
her mouth shut, choking off the denial. She couldn’t lie to him.
But what could she say that wouldn’t hurt her friend?

It didn’t matter. He drew his own conclusions
anyway. His expression savage, Keilor glanced at Jayems. “Are you
satisfied with what went on for the moment, Lord Jayems? I can
bring you more information after I question…” he trailed off,
considered Jasmine, and finished, “The witness.”

“But

” Rihlia tried
to break in, bewildered.

Jayems cut her off. “Go,” he told Keilor,
jerking his head towards the door. “I will deal with the rest
here.”

He said nothing on the way back to their
rooms, but the moment Keilor opened the door, he rounded on her,
hissing, “Are you trying to get yourself killed, woman? Is that
what you want?”

Cold lips trembling, she said nothing, just
stared up at him and shook with shock.

Swearing, he called for a bath and then
looked away for a moment, clenching his fists. Taking a deep breath
for patience and another for his fraying nerves, he told her, “Do
you know what would have happened to you at the hands of another
Haunt, wife? I can think of many that would use your silence as an
excuse to get rid of you forever. Why are you being stubborn about
this? You are risking not only yourself, but our child.”

A defeated sigh escaped her. “Wiley doesn’t
deserve this,” she whispered, her shoulders slumping.

The bath shut off with a click, and Keilor
shut his eyes and shunted his adrenaline to the task off undressing
his lover, who was still covered with the gore of her kill. “You
accomplish nothing for Rihlia by holding your tongue Dragonfly.
Jayems will make certain that she is told everything.”

At the endearment, her breath hitched, and
she flung herself at Keilor, half naked and crying.

“Hush, little one,” he soothed, stroking her
back. “Just tell me what happened. I know it wasn’t your fault.” He
could not relax until he had every detail. Then and only then could
he deal with her emotions, and almost as urgently, his own.

She pulled away a little, and he stripped off
the rest of her splattered clothes, helping her into the bath and
sitting on the edge. Slowly her shaking stopped as he bathed her,
and she finally told him the complete tale. Only then did the
tension of duty drain from him, leaving behind a flood of feeling
and a need for comfort that could only be dealt with in one
way.

Jasmine was just as frantic as he was when he
urged her from the hot water and into his arms, uncaring that his
clothes got soaked, encouraging her as she ripped them off in her
frenzy to get to him. He dried her with his hands and the heat of
their passion, giving her love, making everything all right
again.

Need. Heat. Wanting.

They took each other in the depths of the big
bed, and satisfied them all.

Jasmine felt half dead with emotion
afterwards, barely rousing herself to whimper a protest when her
lover withdrew, leaving her only half of a whole.

“Shh,” he told her, kissing her temple and
pulling her into the comfort of his arms. “I have to go, but not
for a little while. You need to rest.”

For a while there was quiet. Then, “Is it
always so hard, Keilor?”

Sighing, he gathered her closer for a moment,
understanding immediately what she was asking. “No, and more’s the
pity.”

Chapter 30

Jayems’ face was savage as he paced in front
of his desk. “How many more vipers are we going to find at our
ankles, Keilor? Or should I be asking how long before one of them
sinks its fangs in again?”

Keilor crossed his arms and waited. He was
not the only one tired of murder attempts centering on his wife. A
thought struck with sudden force. “Does Rhapsody have anything to
do with Yesande, Jayems?” He shook his head, answering his own
question. “Of course not. She would not approve a strike against
her own daughter, or would she?” he asked, leveling a questioning
look at his cousin.

“Who can say now? ‘The dead are notoriously
tight lipped’,” Jayems said, quoting a grisly proverb. “A search of
her rooms revealed nothing, not that I thought it would,
considering how our luck has been running.”

He put his fists on his desk and leaned
forward, allowing his loose hair to fall forward, concealing his
face. “How are they getting past us? We’re neither fools nor
innocents. I’d swear on my soul that Knightin was a good man once,
and he gave us nothing

nothing!

under the
truth drug.”

Shoving his hair back, he straightened and
looked at Keilor with hard eyes. “I have never seen anyone resist
Nerasia the way he did today. It was almost as if

” For a moment he became utterly still. Only his eyes
moved, as if visually tracing a thought.

When he looked up, his eyes glittered with a
solution. “Jasmine said Yesande experimented on her, didn’t she?
Took samples of her blood?”

Keilor nodded. He did not like to remember
that time.

Jayems leaned forward. “The Ronin, our
symbiotic friends, are human. We’ve had so little contact with
them; who’s to say they don’t still breed charmers?”

Keilor closed his eyes, considering the
unthinkable impact of that possibility. “That would be a very bad
thing.” His eyes snapped open. “But it would explain their sudden
interest in opening communications with us. Yesande discovering a
cache of charmers, craving their power, conducting experiments… If
several of our women suddenly went missing, I would be looking for
a way to infiltrate the enemy and scout around, too.”

“And Jasmine is a charmer…”

“A natural lodestone for them, and a possible
ally,” Keilor finished. “No wonder they risked bringing a young
woman with them. Considering what Jasmine will do for a friend, it
was a thundering good strategy.”

“And just how did they know about that little
trait of hers?” Jayems asked knowingly, and Keilor inclined his
head. “This is all starting to come together, cousin, and I think
it’s about time we had a little chat with our visiting dignitaries.
And Mathin, of course.”

A dangerous smile curved Keilor’s mouth. “Of
course.”

Fifteen Ronin, four Haunt and Jasmine sat
around Jayems’ table, prepared to play a game of poker involving
people’s lives.

Jayems opened the game by dealing Jackson a
question. “Have you had any strange disappearances among your
people recently? Women, in particular?”

Jackson’s head came up. “We were given to
understand they were charmers.” His impersonal gaze flickered over
Jasmine. “Not that we’re able to tell one way or another.”