Sin's Dark Caress (5 page)

The Domina took her daughter's hand. “Go upstairs with Marcus, Astrid. I'll be along shortly.”

“No, Mother, I need to know.” Astrid's voice rose an octave, hysteria creeping in. “Where is my baby?”

The blood had drained from Marcus's face. Something passed between him and his mother-in-law as he placed his arms around his wife's shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart, let's go upstairs.”

She wrenched herself out of his embrace and stood shaking. “Tell me now.” She screamed. The whole room stopped and looked their way.

“I'm sorry,” Gayla said. “She's gone.”

“No.” It was hardly more than a hushed breath. “No, not my baby. Not my little girl.”

Marcus wrapped his arms around his panic-stricken wife again, but she fought him, beating him with both fists until she collapsed, burying her face against his chest as heart-wrenching sobs wracked her body.

Cody appeared out of nowhere at that minute. “Oberon said you might need some help.”

“Perfect timing,” Bianca said with relief.

He approached the Domina but she waved him off. “Don't worry about me, Incubus, just take care of my daughter.” She turned to McManus with a stony expression. “So what are you doing to find my granddaughter's murderer?”

“First, we're going to get statements from your guests,” McManus said, and turned to signal one of several police officers arriving at the entrance. “And if you don't mind, I'd like to start by asking you a few questions. When was your granddaughter due?”

The Domina's brow creased. “Due?”

“Ah, McManus . . .” Bianca said, shaking her head.
He didn't know.

He just ignored her, bumbling on. “The baby,” he said. “When was the baby due?”

The Domina's brow creased deeper in confusion. “I'm sorry, I don't understand.”

“No, I'm sorry, Your Eminence, I should've explained,” Bianca said. “Tiffany was killed for the fetus she carried inside. They took the baby.”

“Impossible,” the Domina said. “There was no baby. I told you, she passed her entrance exams to the Isis Institute.”

“I know,” Bianca said.

“Then, can someone please fill me in?” McManus asked.

Bianca sighed and turned to him. “It means this morning—on the dawn of her sixteenth birthday—Tiffany Hilden was certified as a virgin.”

9

Time to Put Away Toys

“H
ow can that be?” McManus asked. “Do we have the wrong girl?”

Bianca shook her head. “A doppelganger spell takes massive amounts of energy, and black magic is the most potent. But I still couldn't work out why so much dark magic was needed to kill the girl, until the Domina told us about Tiffany passing the exam to enter the Isis Institute.”

The animals seemed as unnerved as their owners. The python hissed, coiling and uncoiling its tail around Artemisia's arm while the eagle screeched and flapped its wings.

Artemisia placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder. “So it's a mystic pregnancy through black magic. To what end?”

“I still haven't worked that out yet,” Bianca said.

“But does put a bit of a different spin on the case,” McManus said.

“My granddaughter was killed by a magic wielder, maybe even one of my own kind?” The Domina, looking a little lost, glanced at her daughter and son-in-law, the worried frown marring her marble smooth brow. And there was something else, which McManus couldn't quite read, but it looked a little like fear or suspicion.

“Your Eminence.” He glanced at Bianca and back to Domina Hilden. “I'm sorry for your loss, but right now I need to do my job.”

Bianca's face relaxed into a smile. He could play nice.
For now
. But there was something off here—he could feel it in his gut. And he wasn't the only one, if the expression on Artemisia's face was anything to go by.

“If you'll excuse me,” the Domina said, “I must see to my daughter. You can ask your questions later.” She turned with a sweep of her heavy velvet skirt and headed for the hysterical younger woman.

“I should go as well,” Artemisia said to Bianca. “Your father is calling in an hour.” She turned to McManus. “My husband is the world renowned parahuman anthropologist, Theron Hunter.”

“I know,” McManus said. “Bianca's spoken of him often”

“Speaking of Daddy, when's he due back from New Guinea?”

“You know your father. He's found some new witch doctor to talk with and wants me to join him. But you know how I feel about the jungle.”

“Yes.” Bianca smiled. “But you end up having the best time when you get there.”

“I was thinking about it, and in light of tonight's events, I think I'd best stay close to home.” Artemisia Sin held out a black lace gloved hand to McManus. “I can't exactly say it's been a pleasure, Detective . . . but it has been interesting.”

He shook her hand. “Thank you, Your Eminence.”

“Actually it's Your
Honor,
” the flame hair beauty corrected. “I'm the Alto of my coven, that title is for the Domina.”

She held his hand for a few seconds longer than was polite or necessary, searching his eyes with hers, before she dropped it and turned to her daughter, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

Bianca blushed. “Mother.”

Artemisia laughed, kissed Bianca's cheek, and with a quick wink at McManus, walked away. He couldn't help but watch her, and tilted his head at an angle for a better look.

Mmmm, mmm . . . nice.

“McManus!” Bianca hit him. Hard.

“What?”

Her eyes flashed dangerously. “That's my mother you're ogling.”

Shit.
“Sorry, Sin, but that woman oozes sex, and I'm a red blooded man, after all.” He adjusted his belt.

Bianca sighed. “I've seen men fall to their knees in front of her when she turned on as much ‘juice' as she just hit you with.”

“What is it with witches? Always testing their powers?” he grumbled, then realized what he'd just said. “Sorry—no offense.”

“It's okay,” she said. “We've been friends a long time. You've never kept it secret how you feel about my kind. Besides, it was technically her succubus side.”

“Now I know why you get on so well with that incubus. By the way, what did she say to you just then?”

Bianca scowled and looked away, blushing. “Nothing.”

“Come on, you can tell me.”

“I think I want to take another look at the murder scene,” she said, avoiding his question.

Best not push.

The mood in the room had turned rather anxious. The animal familiars picked up on their masters' fear and confusion and chaos reigned. Squawking, screeching, and the general noise level increased as the animals got more and more agitated. The beginnings of a headache pinched behind his eyes.

“I think I'll come with you,” he said, following Bianca.

Jones still stood guard beside the door, and he nodded as they came through. The alley was now a hive of activity, with forensics moving around, tagging evidence and taking photos.

The air was ripe. Trash, rotting food, and fresh spilled blood assaulted the senses, but he could breathe much more easily than he did in a room full of magic wielders. He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.

God, that's good.

“So.” He dragged in another lungful of delicious smoke. “That Domina really has it in for you and your mom.”

Bianca shrugged. “I don't function properly, which reflects poorly on my family and their standing in the community. My people don't really forgive failure. If not for me, my mother would probably be the Domina of New York, though she's never held it against me.”

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to fail?” he said as he exhaled a stream of smoke.

She laughed. “Something like that.”

Her smile totally transformed her face, into something almost angelic. He loved that smile. He took another drag on his cigarette and kept his eyes locked with hers. “I'd hardly call head of forensic thaumaturgy at the Academy of Parahuman Studies and top consultant to all the law enforcement agencies in the tristate area a failure.”

A shade of pink flushed her cheeks. She was never good at taking compliments. “In my culture, any witch who can't wield magic is a failure.”

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It's hardly your fault that your powers failed to manifest. Besides, you would never have been as good at your job if they had.”

“No—you misunderstand,” she said, locking eyes with his. “If my powers had failed to manifest it would've been a blessing. I wouldn't be seen as a witch then. I have everything I need to be a practicing thaumaturgist—the power, the theory, and the knowledge to use it. The only thing stopping me is my inability to
bond
with a familiar.”

He frowned. “I don't understand.”

She sighed. “For all intents and purposes I'm a fully functioning witch, but without a connection to an animal conduit I can't draw on the thaumaturgic essence to weave it into spells. Some in my situation have been known to turn to black magic as a way to access their power.”

“Instead, you turned it to good use as a forensic thaumaturgist. Win-win for us, I say.” He dropped the cigarette butt and ground it underfoot.

The medical examiner, Tez O'Connor, stood up from beside the girl's body and pulled off a pair of bloody latex gloves as she walked over to meet them. “It's a real fecken messy one, this.”

McManus looked at the wall brightly lit by the crime lamps where the same symbol as at the other two crime scenes was barely visible on the dirty brickwork.

“We're pretty positive the girl was a virgin,” Bianca said to the M.E. “Can you check that when you're doing the autopsy?”

“You're fecken joking, right?” Tez said with her usual Irish lilt. “You know a wee babe was cut from her gut, right?”

“I know, but we are thinking there was dark magic involved. Let me show you my readings.” Bianca led Tez away.

Both women had beautiful pale skin and a slight build, but the similarities ended there. Tez had midnight black hair compared to Bianca's pure snow-white locks. The medical examiner's eyes were a brilliant azure blue, where the witch's were pale, almost colorless. And Tez had a mouth on her, loud and foul in her Irish way. She said what she thought, which put off a lot of people, but McManus liked her.

Shit, that succubus mojo Bianca's mother had used still had his libido humming like a high wire.

M
cManus stood up and stretched. Several hours of taking statements from ungracious guests and suspicious staff was starting to take its toll. His back cramped. Thank God they were nearly done.
Finally.
The Neon was beginning to wear off and he'd need a hit soon. A drink wouldn't go astray either.

His pocket buzzed and he reached into his coat for the cell just as it began to ring.

“McManus,” his captain said on the other end. “I need you back at the precinct ASAP.”

“Just finishing up here,” he replied with resignation. “I'll be done in about an hour or so.”
That drink would have to wait.

“No, now, McManus. And bring Bianca Sin with you.”

10

Oxygen Thieving A'hole

B
ianca found a parking spot in front of the precinct, something that usually only happened on television, but she wasn't about to dwell on her good luck—there was bigger fish to fry today. McManus seemed rather pissed by the summons, though she wasn't exactly sure why, and his mood hadn't improved much when she found him waiting for her by the building entrance.

“What's up with you?” she asked.

He shrugged as he slid his hands into his pants pockets. “Something just doesn't feel right. Come on—let's see what my captain wants.”

“Okay,” she said.

As she followed him inside, she remembered Artemisia's parting words.
“While he may have responded to my influence, it was you he looked at, thought about, and his lust is delicious.”

Her cheeks heated again. The one time they got together had been a disaster—a drunken romp after a postcase drinking session. It had been messy and clumsy and something neither of them talked about again. Not that she hadn't wondered how things could've gone if . . .

No, it was better this way.
They were professional and that's the way it should be.

Homicide was on the third floor, and they took the stairs.

“Hey there, McManus.” A detective rose from his desk and leaned in. “Watch your back in there. Rumor has it someone is after your head.”

McManus glanced at the captain's closed door then at her, and slapped the guy on the shoulder. “Thanks for the heads-up, Harry. Come on, Sin.”

The office buzzed with the usual cop banter, but it all stopped as she followed McManus across the room. On the outside, he seemed relaxed. However, the set of his shoulders and the tightness of his walk told a different story, at least to her.

A great hulking shadow stood on the other side of the frosted glass. Only one man she knew could dominate a room like that, and if Oberon was here, then McManus was right—something was wrong.

McManus opened the door and held it for her to enter first. Tension crushed the air in the small room. Oberon's mood was as dark as the black leather coat he wore. And the reason sat only a few feet away.

“Finally.” Agent Neil Roberts of the Violent Crimes Unit looked at his watch as they entered.

Captain Phillips, McManus's superior, frowned from behind his desk. Another man dressed in an expensive suit sat next to Agent Roberts.

The suit stood up and smiled politely. “Palatine Grace, legal liaison to CHaPR.”

Bianca had heard of Mr. Grace's recent rise to prominence in the organization. He was one bright boy, from all accounts. So what was he doing here with this VCU idiot?

“What's going on?” McManus asked in a wary tone, eyeing both Palatine and Roberts.

Captain Phillips looked down at his hands. “This baby snatching murder case has been taken over by the Violent Crimes Unit.”

“No,” McManus said. “This is my case. I've been working it day and night for the past three weeks. Now that Bianca's working with me, we're making good headway.”

A lie.
They had nothing, but she understood his desperation.

“I'm afraid . . .” Agent Roberts steepled his fingers. “ . . . Oberon and his team are no longer involved in the Womb Raider case. Any jurisdiction they may have had has been revoked by CHaPR.”

Palatine shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The power granted to the team briefly during the campus killer case was always seen as temporary.”

Sweat beaded on Oberon's brow, his jaw clenched tight. She could see he used every ounce of self-control to stop from exploding. Agent Roberts sat in smug silence, brushing a piece of invisible lint off his crossed knee. The man was enjoying every damn second of this.

“This is bullshit,” McManus spat, and shoved his left hand deep into his coat pocket.

Palatine Grace shuffled his papers and cleared his throat. “There've been a few changes on the council recently and it's been agreed that VCU are best suited to investigate this particular crime. It's a priority that the stolen infants are found and returned to the victims' families as soon as possible.”

“What do you think we're doing?” McManus leaned in, his hands braced on Captain Phillips's desk. “Twiddling our fucking thumbs?”

“Detective McManus.” For the first time, Neil Roberts looked up at him. “You're quite welcome to stay on in a limited capacity. As a consultant.”

“And Bianca?” McManus frowned. “She's the most qualified forensic thaumaturgist there is.”

She knew Oberon well enough to see how much he struggled to keep his temper. His hands balled into tight fists, the knuckles white with the effort.
Just hang in there a little longer, Captain
.

“We don't require any of Oberon's people to assist in this case,” Roberts said with that same condescending smile, then stood up. “We have our own thaumaturgic expert.”

A powerful wave of anger washed over her. Though she struggled to keep it locked away, a cup flew off the desk and smashed against the far wall, painting it with coffee.

All heads turned to the sound. She stood there, just as shocked as everyone else. It was an instinctive emotional burst of energy, raw and unharnessed.

“Fuck,” McManus said.

It was enough to snap her out of it. She hadn't meant to unleash the energy, but it was safer than making Agent Roberts's head explode, which is what she'd pictured. Oberon looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

He knew.
Somehow, he knew it was her. Well, too late to take it back now. She straightened her shoulders as if nothing had happened. The crash had been enough to release some of the tension in the room until Roberts opened his mouth, destroying the illusion.

“As I was saying, Detective, Dr. Sin will not be needed on this case.” The agent watched Oberon. “So you will agree not to share any information about the Womb Raider with her or anyone else.”

“And if I don't agree?” McManus asked.

“Then you will be removed completely,” his captain answered.

“I see.” McManus nodded sadly and glanced at Bianca. “Sorry, Sin. But it's my case.”

He's going to do it. He's going to work with VCU.
His betrayal stung, leaving a foul taste in her mouth.

The agent's malicious grin deepened and he couldn't help another gloating glance at Oberon as he held out his hand to McManus.

When he took it, Roberts's knuckles turn white as he gripped hard and his gloating smile deepened. “Actually, it's my case.”

McManus frowned. His shoulders tensed as he tried to pull his hand back, but the agent held tight.

“Ah, fuck it.” McManus smashed his forehead against the bridge of Roberts's nose.

It happened so fast, she hadn't seen it coming. Neither had Agent Roberts. Blood burst from his nostrils as he dropped to his knees, ripping his hand from McManus's grip to cup his face, the dark crimson seeping through his fingers.

All hell broke loose. Captain Phillips yelled, Roberts screamed, Oberon howled with a deep rumbling laughter. Palatine Grace just stood in stunned silence, though she suspected by the slight twinkle in his eyes that he was secretly pleased. He didn't like Neil Roberts any more than the rest of them.

“Enough!” Captain Phillips bellowed above the din, and the noise died.

“I want this man charged with assault,” Roberts said, his head tilted back, a crimson spattered white handkerchief pressed to his nose.

“I'll take care of this, Agent Roberts,” the captain said. “Please don't let me hold you gentlemen up any longer.”

The agent's eyes narrowed over the bloody piece of linen. Then he stormed out, leaving the office door wide-open.

“I'll try smoothing this over,” Palatine Grace said. “But unfortunately we'll need you to get all the case files to VCU by tomorrow.” He turned and followed Agent Roberts out of the office.

Captain Phillips sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.

“OTA,” McManus murmured, not even caring whether the two men were out of hearing range.

“Damn straight,” the captain agreed.

“What's ota?” Bianca asked.

“O.T.A.,” the captain said. “Oxygen thieving asshole. And that Agent Roberts is one of the biggest I've ever met.”

Oberon barked out a sharp laugh. “That's the best description of Roberts I've ever heard.”

“Yes—but that's beside the point.” The captain linked his fingers together and leaned forward. “McManus, you—”

“I know.” He sighed. “Hand in my badge and gun, I'm on suspension.”

“Let's just hope I can talk him out of pressing criminal charges. Couldn't you have just played nice for once?”

McManus shook his head. “The only reason he wanted to keep me on this case was to get under DuPrie's skin.”

Oberon crossed his arms over his chest.

“Still,” the captain said. “My hands are tied. Sorry, McManus.”

“I know.” McManus slammed his gun and badge down on Captain Phillips's desk and stormed from the office, slamming the door behind him.

Phillips raised his head to look at Oberon. “So now Roberts has us bent over the table without even the courtesy of a reach-around.”

“Pretty much,” Oberon said. “What about McManus?”

“If I know McManus, he's more pissed at himself for losing control. He'll go off, get drunk, and calm down in a few days.” The captain leaned back in his chair. “And I'm sure he's not the first to pop that a'hole one.”