The Twiceborn Queen (The Proving Book 2) (21 page)

“Relax,” I said, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel into my tone. “Kasumi’s a godsend. What could possibly go wrong?”

He rolled his eyes and refused to dignify that with an answer. Okay, so there were risks, but I’d done some reading while we waited—Leandra’s library had proved useful after all. Kitsune, despite a reputation for slipperiness, had a highly developed sense of personal honour. Their word, once given, was good. Their abilities varied greatly depending on how old they were, but they could all disguise themselves as someone else, which was the skill that most interested me.

Things were looking up for the first time since I’d sent Valeria plunging into the harbour. Kasumi could be the key to success—if I could trust her. The next hour or two would go a long way towards answering that question.

Detective Hartley and her shadow, Detective Franks, got out of their car. One big, one small, proving that size means nothing. I was convinced the small, wiry Hartley was far more dangerous than her larger companion.

Always alert, she looked up as I pulled Ben back from the window, with a gaze that noticed every detail. No doubt she was very good at her job. It was almost a shame to play a trick on her such as the one I had planned.

I heard the front door open and Garth’s deep voice rumble in the foyer. No, not a shame. A necessity. My survival, and Lachie’s, Ben’s—everyone I cared about—depended on this deception. It was the first step in digging my way out from under a suffocating mountain of problems. Sympathy was something the old Kate would have felt. The new one couldn’t afford such luxuries.

“Detective Hartley!” I turned to greet her as the door to the lounge opened, a cool smile on my lips. “Thank you for coming all this way.”

She nodded. “Ms O’Connor. I hope you’re ready to leave.” Straight to the point, no polite but fake
you’re welcome
. The belligerent tilt to her chin proclaimed her feelings on being dragged out here: she’d gone out of her way to humour me and now she expected full co-operation.

“Not quite. I’ll just be a moment. Won’t you sit down?”

The two detectives perched together on the antique lounge under the window like a couple of storm crows. Admittedly the furniture in here was built more for looks than comfort, with its hard wooden arms and straight floral-covered backs, but they both sat with the look of people who were eager to be on their way.

I turned in the doorway, as if as an afterthought. “Oh, just one thing …”

Detective Hartley gave me an impatient look. By now she’d probably uncovered my name on the concierge’s list at Valeria’s apartment building on New Year’s Eve. Probably discovered the ambulance had picked Ben up from the Mosman house too. There was a gleam in her eye of the hunter closing in for the kill. She thought she had me. Perhaps she even hoped to frighten a confession out of me, once she’d torn me a new one over the lies I’d told. Clearly she couldn’t wait to get me to that police station.

I caught her eye. “I want you to forget everything you thought you knew about this case. What I’m about to tell you will set you on a completely different path.”

Frank disbelief met my gaze, but it no longer mattered. I
pushed
, forcing my will on her. Hers was surprisingly strong; her struggle, though brief, lasted longer than most humans’ did. Her shoulders sagged as her will snapped, and the look in her eyes changed to one of fervent adoration.

It wouldn’t last, of course. This wasn’t full enthralment, only its temporary cousin, compulsion. I didn’t want a permanent slave. An hour or two of obedience would be enough for my plans.

Her companion waited, his eyes still fixed politely on me. It was over so quickly he wasn’t even aware there’d been a battle.

“You’re feeling sleepy,” I suggested, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. An oldie but a goodie. Detective Franks slumped back into the uncomfortable lounge at an awkward angle and began to snore softly. The poor man would have a terrible crick in his neck when he woke.

I turned my attention back to Detective Hartley. This got easier every time. Once I couldn’t have looked away to deal with the other detective without losing her, but she still waited, eagerness to serve evident in every taut line of her body. She didn’t even look at her slumbering companion.

“What is your password?” Her eyes tracked me as I moved closer, till I was standing right beside her.

“My … password?”

I frowned. Was this resistance? “For the computer system at the station.”

Her expression cleared as she rattled it off. Not resistance, just confusion. Being compelled filled your brain with cotton wool, like being enthralled.

I plucked a hair from her head and handed it to Ben.

“For Kasumi.”

He nodded and left the room. Detective Hartley’s gaze had lost its sharpness. Now it held a dreamy quality that made her look a lot softer than her usual brisk self.

“Could I see your notebook, please?”

She handed it over, and I tore out the page from our last interview, and the two that followed, till I had a nice clean page again.

“Do you normally type these up back at the station?”

She nodded, so I made her tell me where they were filed on the computer system.

“Some of your computer files have become corrupted. You’ll have to take some notes so you can re-enter the data.”

She nodded again, but before we could begin Ben came in, an odd expression on his face. “Kasumi’s ready for you.”

“Wait here,” I told Detective Hartley.

I left the room and nearly squeaked with shock when I saw who was waiting in the foyer.

“You were right,” I said when I found my voice again. “It’s flawless.”

Detective Hartley grinned back at me and twirled so I could admire her from all angles. At least, I would have sworn on a stack of bibles it was Detective Hartley—if I didn’t know that she was waiting in the room I’d just left. This was Kasumi, but so changed I could barely believe it, though she was standing right in front of me.

It was more than an impersonation. Somehow the kitsune magic allowed her to truly
become
Detective Hartley. Height, clothes, facial expressions—everything. Kasumi was right. Even the detective’s mother wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. It was truly astonishing.

I gave her the real detective’s password. “Make sure you get all the files. I don’t want any traces left from that last interview.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she said, a faint hint of irritation in her voice.

I couldn’t help it. As a mother I was so used to micromanaging every last detail. Delegating tasks and relying on others to perform them properly didn’t come easily. I heard an echo of Leandra’s derision in my head. She’d never had the least problem with delegating—which is why we were so lost now without Luce. Leandra had been all too comfortable with snapping her fingers and having someone else take care of whatever she wanted. That someone now played for the other team.

But maybe Kasumi could replace her? Oh, not in many ways—Luce and I went back too far for that. But there was no denying that Kasumi’s kitsune abilities could be a hell of a lot handier than Luce’s wyvern ones. In trueshape Luce had poisonous spurs and could spit a toxic mist that dropped enemies in their tracks, but funnily enough there weren’t that many opportunities to go round spitting poison at people. Her centuries of experience were her true value.

Kitsune were slippery customers, with many more tricks up their sleeves than the average shifter. Probably only goblins could do more, but their magics weren’t inherent; they had to be learned, and your average goblin wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, little more than cannon fodder. Even the mages were a mixed bag—just look at Blue Munroe. Only a few ever became proficient enough to be truly useful.

“Okay. I’ll keep them here until you’re done. Ring me when you’re finished. Good luck.”

“Luck isn’t necessary.”

I watched her leave the house, marvelling at her magic. Even the way she walked had changed, her quick, impatient steps mirroring the detective’s usual pace. Shaking my head in wonder, I went back to face the real Detective Hartley.

Kasumi’s version was now even more convincing than the real one, who sat where I’d left her with a vacant look in her eyes most unlike her usual alert self. I’d applied the compulsion as lightly as I could. Hopefully it would wear off in a few hours, before any of her colleagues noticed any odd behaviour. It was a delicate balance between the compliance I needed now and her usual independence.

When it did wear off she’d find herself very confused, still able to remember traces of the original interview where I’d shot myself in the foot, but also remembering the new version I was about to implant. The new and improved version would land Jason solidly in the firing line. She’d probably think she was going mad when she checked her files and found no trace of the original “facts”, thanks to Kasumi.

Detective Franks was still enjoying his unscheduled nap. A small damp spot had formed on the back of the lounge, where he drooled in his sleep. Nice.

“When you leave here today you’ll be convinced of my innocence,” I said.

“Of course.” She nodded enthusiastically. Her hands gripped her trouser-clad knees as she leaned forward, eager to catch every word.

“You’ll concentrate all your efforts on locating my ex-husband Jason Hepburn. He’s the one who killed Valeria, and he’s been behind all the attacks on me too. He’s planted lots of false evidence in an effort to implicate me, but you’ve realised the truth now. It was him I went to see at Valeria’s apartment on New Year’s Eve. He tried to kill both of us there, but we escaped to Valeria’s house at Mosman, where he attacked us again, and succeeded in killing Valeria, his employer, and wounding my friend Ben. He’s a dangerous man. You need to find him before he hurts anyone else.”

She nodded again. “A man like that shouldn’t be on the streets.”

“That’s right. There’s no telling when he might strike again. You have to stop him.”

“Yes.” She looked like one of those nodding dogs you see on the parcel shelf of cars sometimes, her head bobbing up and down in agreement. “He’s very dangerous. Must be stopped.”

Damn, I hoped I hadn’t overdone it. She’d be no use to me if she remained an imbecile. I caught her gaze again and eased off a touch, allowing something of her own personality to struggle out from under the compulsion.

She gave me a dazed look, then frowned at her notebook on the table between us. Its reflection gleamed in the polished surface. “I should be writing this down. Wasn’t I going to take you to the station so I could record everything properly?”

“It’s okay,” I soothed. “You don’t need to do that any more. You’ve realised Jason’s the one you should be chasing. You just need to ask me some questions about my ex-husband’s latest attack. That’s why you came today, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.” Still frowning, she leaned forward and picked up the notebook and pen. “That’s right.” She drew a deep breath. “Please tell me what happened at your residence in The Rocks on Sunday night.”

Kasumi arrived back an hour or so after Detective Hartley and a still yawning Detective Franks went on their way, their heads stuffed with new information about Jason the murdering, child-stealing monster. Steve, looming even larger than usual next to the slight Japanese woman, escorted her into the kitchen, where I was killing time while we waited, watching Ben teach Lachie to play double-handed five hundred. There’d been some initial confusion over the left and right bowers, but now he seemed to have hit his stride, and was making outrageous bids. Sunlight streamed in the big windows and fell on the two curly heads, one dark, one light, bent over their cards in concentration.

“Just as well we’re not playing for money,” Ben muttered as Lachie swiped another winning trick off the table, a huge grin plastered on his face.

“Sit down,” I said to Kasumi, and she slipped into the seat next to Lachie and clasped her hands loosely on the warm wooden table top in front of her.

Steve hovered awkwardly, unsure whether to play guide or guard, and I waved him away. I’d said I’d take her on if she succeeded at this task. We couldn’t be treating her like a prisoner, always watching her sideways. Garth gave up pacing in front of the windows and drew closer, keen to hear the news. He at least would probably still be watching her sideways, judging by the scowl on his face.

I offered her tea or coffee, but she seemed so horrified when I got up to make it that I let Garth take over. Apparently she had no problem being waited on by werewolves. I stared out at the view of green fields bordered by dusky green bush while he crashed around in the cupboards and boiled the kettle, making his feeling about kitsune known with every violent movement.

When he was done he banged a mug of tea down on the table so hard some of it slopped over the side. She ignored him.

“All is well.” She took a sip from the mug, looking like the cat that got the cream—or maybe the fox that got the chicken. “Jason is suspect number one now.”

Lachie looked up at the mention of his father’s name, but Ben distracted him by laying out another card. Kasumi eyed the cards in Lachie’s hand and tapped one without speaking. He set it on top of Ben’s and won another trick. Kasumi earned a shy smile in reward.

“Thank you. You’ve done well. Were there any problems?”

“No. I believe Detective Hartley is not very popular. No one spoke to me. But I did find something that might be of interest to you.”

She offered me a folded piece of paper with her customary half-bow. I always found myself wanting to be extra polite around Kasumi, she had such elegant manners.

The paper was a printout of the autopsy report on Valeria. Not all of it, just the summary. Nothing unexpected there, of course. She’d died from being skewered through the heart with a massive object—the blade-like tip of my tail. Cause of death was kind of hard to miss.

The coroner wasn’t to know how hard it was to kill a dragon, since the body he was examining looked human in every way. Our powers of regeneration were proof against almost anything. But having your heart obliterated by a massive blade would do it, as would a complete beheading such as Carl Davison had suffered, or blowing us into tiny little pieces, like the way Monique had died. There were a couple of poisons that were fatal to us, like the one that had killed Leandra, but that was pretty much it. Dragonfire would kill us if we were caught in human form, but in trueshape our scales protected us. In trueshape the only thing we had to fear was the teeth and claws of other dragons, since our scales were proof against any blade humans could make. Just as well dragons had a bad habit of fighting each other; otherwise the world would be overrun by entitled overgrown lizards.