hand of hate 01 - destiny blues (25 page)

“I only recently discovered we were related.”
 

The back door opened, and I turned to see Rhys come in with a big white bakery bag. He’d showered and changed. His sexy grin was back, and I beamed right back at him.  
 

“Is there anything I can do?” Something about Garr’s voice sounded forced.
 

Rhys started pulling chocolate croissants out of the bakery bag, wafting them in front of my face, making it impossible for me to concentrate.
 

“Um, can we do this another time?” I needed to get off the phone.  
 

“How about that sunset cruise out on the lake? Just the two of us.”
 

I blushed. He had a rich baritone voice. Persuasive; almost on the edge of pushy. Tempting as Garr’s invitation sounded, I found my loyalties wavering. Of course, the coffee and chocolate croissants Rhys had just brought weren’t helping, but I didn’t feel right talking to Garr with Rhys’ wafting pastry under my nose. I slapped his hand away. The delicious scent of chocolate was making me crazy, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.
 

“I’m afraid I’m going to be pretty busy for the next few days.”
 

“Of course.” Garr was not a man who liked to be disappointed, I could tell. “Perhaps another time.”
 

I hung up, sensing something off-kilter about the whole conversation. Karen might be right; maybe he was too old for me. My thoughts were interrupted by Rhys, who swooped in and pulled me to him, inhaling deeply as he kissed my neck.
 

“You are absolutely irresistible.” He whispered into my neck. “I could just eat you up.”
 

I slipped away from him and grabbed a pastry.
 

“That’s the chocolate talking. Don’t come any closer. We’ve got work to do.” I took a huge bite, and oomphed in ecstasy as the warm dark chocolate filled my mouth. I held up the croissant to Rhys and he took a monstrous bite. He devoured it, his emerald eyes glittering at me with unfiltered hunger. Oh my.
 

“And I need to get cleaned up. I mean, you’re all clean, and I’m not, that’s all.” Without a word, Rhys stepped into me, and pinned me against the kitchen sink.  
 

“I don’t care.” He put his hands on me, and I closed my eyes and leaned into him; feeling quite the femme fatale for this hour of the morning.  His hands slid down my back and pulled me towards him, hips first. He smelled of clean man, and coffee and chocolate. Mighty good. I lifted my head and he kissed me.  
 

All thoughts of responsibility fled as his tongue explored my mouth. I let him, giving back as good as I got, with interest. His lips were a novel experience. Firm and incredibly soft, his mouth pulled sensations from me I hadn’t experienced before. My body tightened and I savored the feelings his hands aroused as he stroked my nipples and kissed my neck.  
 

Madame Coumlie’s wall phone rang, and Rhys answered.  
 

“For you.” He handed me the receiver. He mouthed the words ‘Funeral Home’ to me and wrapped his arms around me; putting his head on my shoulder to listen in.
 

“Ah, well, Miss Blackman, so glad to be able to track you down. Gerard Fontaigne suggested you might be staying at the house. Norm Saunders here. I’m just calling to assure you that all the arrangements for Madame’s service are in order. Visiting hours will be held the day after tomorrow, beginning at three o’clock. Would that be satisfactory?”
 

“Sure, I guess.”
 

“Madame selected one of our high-end packages. She requested cremation, of course, but also understood the needs of the community to say farewell, and agreed to an evening viewing. Lillies, white gladiolas, and orange blossoms, a lovely combination, I must say.”
 

“Um, nice. Do I need to do anything??”
 

“Traditionally, we prefer to have a family member host the viewing. I have not been able to reach any other family members yet.”
 

I wondered who the other family members might be. “How long does this thing last?” I’d never been to a funeral before; not even my own mother’s. I wasn’t sure if attending would be such a good idea. What if Porter showed up?
 

“A few hours. Your presence is all that is necessary; and to accept the kind wishes and condolences of her friends and the community. Your great-grandmother was one of a kind. If you like, you may bring a few mementos of her life. Perhaps a photo?”
 

“For what?”  
 

“She was an amazing woman. A legend, if you will. We’ve already received a tremendous number of calls regarding the viewing. Based on the number of queries, I decided to move her into the Founder’s Room. I tell you, we haven’t needed the Founder’s Room for years,” he bragged. “Normally, it’s more expensive, but I am certain your great-grandmother would be pleased to know how many people wish to attend and pay their respects.”
 

This was getting morbid. “Wait a minute. I don’t want her funeral to be some sort of pay-per-view circus event. My great-grandmother is not an exhibition.” What if they wanted to touch her, or tried to take a lock of hair or something as a souvenir? I shuddered. That would be too horrible. “I’ve changed my mind.  Ix-nay on the viewing.”
 

“Pardon me?”
 

“You heard me, no viewing.”
 

“But it was Madam’s wish. Her obituary and visiting hours are already published in this morning’s paper. This was all arranged months ago, by Madam herself.”  
 

Rhys nodded, giving me a supportive squeeze.  
 

“Not to worry.” Saunders sounded confident. “Everything will be lovely and tasteful, I assure you. I will be right with you, every moment.”
 

“Um.”
 

“If you would be so good as to arrive a few minutes early, that would be best.” He hung up.  
 

I handed the phone back to Rhys and he replaced the receiver. Almost immediately, it rang again. This time I answered.  
 

The caller identified himself as Marcus Galvin, the criminal attorney Fontaigne had spoken of. He told me he’d agreed to represent Lance. On the phone at least, he sounded competent and easy to talk to. I liked him right away.   
 

“What about bail, Marcus? How soon can we get him out?”  
 

“This is a serial murder case. We’ll be going before the judge on Monday, but don’t get your hopes up about bail.”
 

“But Lance had nothing to do with those murders. There can’t possibly be enough evidence to arrest him.”
 

“I agree, the evidence at this point is all circumstantial. He was observed driving one of the victim’s cars, and when they searched his house, they found some old newspaper clippings and a diary. The diary talks about demons terrorizing Shore Haven.”
 

“That car was a customer car, and the journal was mine. I left it at Lance’s house accidently. I’ll just tell them--.”
 

Marcus cut me off.  “Because of the possible demonic implication, the FBI’s counter-terrorism task force may claim jurisdiction. In a terrorism case, standard law and civil rights might not apply.”
 

My lips trembled, as fear for my brother surged through me. “I can’t believe it. Are you telling me they could torture him?”  
 

“I doubt things would go that far. But if this is determined to be a case of psychic terrorism, Lance might never stand trial. He could spend the rest of his life in a prison cell on some remote island.”
 

“How can this be happening? My brother had nothing to do with any of this! I have to talk to them.”
 

“It’s going to be several days before we know anything,” Marcus assured me. “I don’t want you talking to anyone just yet, but there is another way to help your brother.”
 

“What do you mean?”
 

“Lance spoke of an obligation. A delivery which must be made today. To a special House in Rochester, if you get my drift. I believe he’s spoken to you of it. He seems to think the residents are all cards.”
 

The image of Hector’s cruel smile flashed through my mind. “Of all the stupid things he would ask me, this is the worst.” I already knew what was coming. “Isn’t he in enough trouble already?”
 

“My client tells me you are aware of the implications of this obligation and the consequences to his family if the conditions are not met. My client has given me a package, which will release him from any further entanglements with the establishment in question. I have no knowledge of the contents of this package, but my client tells me you do. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”
 

Man oh man. “Yes.  I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t want to do this. I’ve got too much going on already.”
 

“I’ve been assured that the recipients will be happy to receive the package from you as long as delivery is completed by four o’clock this afternoon. My client asked me to tell you to be sure and get a signed receipt. And to please remember other people are depending on you to do this. You understand that I do not have any idea what your brother is asking you to do, but I do have his assurance that this action is not illegal. Regardless, I suggest you maintain a low profile for the next few days, until we determine jurisdiction of the case. If the authorities bring you in for questioning prematurely, things could get complicated. You could be detained for an extended period.”
 

“We already figured that one out.”
 

“I’m just asking you to deliver this package for my client and remain inconspicuous for the next few days. Can you do that?”
 

What other choice did I have? Let Lance be water-boarded because I was too scared to face Hector again? It was my fault he’d gotten arrested in the first place. “Of course.”
 

“He’s worried you might not follow through on this. He told me you disapprove of the other party.  However, clearing this issue up for your brother will mitigate a motive for the situation he’s in at the moment, and do a lot to help appearances. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
 

I sighed. “I said I’d do it. Please tell him how sorry I am about getting him arrested. About everything.”
 

“You will deliver by the deadline?”
 

I glanced at Rhys and he nodded.  
 

“Yes.  Where’s the package?”
 

“Over at my office in Brighton. I’ll be in court all day, but I’ll leave the package with our receptionist. You’ll need to show identification.”
 

“Okay.  I’ll be there.” I rinsed the cold coffee out my cup, as I told Rhys about Hector and the situation at the House of Cards.  
 

“Will you come with me? I don’t want to get beat up again.”
 

“No problem.”  
 

CHAPTER 28
 

Sneaking into my apartment wasn’t as easy as it had been the night before, but Rhys parked his motorcycle a block away and we crept through the neighbor’s yard, bypassing the street completely. I showered and changed in a flash, but every time I caught my reflection in a mirror, I couldn’t help myself from staring. I so didn’t recognize me anymore. My eyes were downright creepy. Adding eyeliner made things worse, not better. I washed off the make-up and decided to go with the dark sunglasses until I got some contact lenses. No way I’d ever pass for normal again.
 

I rode behind Rhys on the custom pillion of his roaring 1952 Indian Chief motorcycle. I wrapped my hair around my hand and crouched down behind his solid back. The sun and wind and throb between my legs had me grinning by the time we arrived. Rhys parked on the street in front of the Tudor bungalow that housed the Law Offices of Fort, Fontaigne, and Galvin. I told Rhys I’d be right back, and ran up the steps to the entrance.
 

I opened the front door and smacked right into Mayor Brunson. I grabbed my sunglasses hoping he hadn’t recognized me, but of course he had.  
 

“Hey Mattie, watch it willya? What are you doing here?” He eyed my clothes and glanced uneasily toward Rhys waiting on his bike.
 

Words failed me as soon as I got a good look at Jim Brunson. A haze of midnight blue, green, and smoky black, with a glowing golden center surrounded his body. I knew instinctively I was seeing his aura. I’d never seen anything like it. A thread-like filament of glowing red neon encircled his torso, pulsing with his life force. I stood dazed, as the realization dawned on me. I could actually see his lifeline.  
 

Brunson edged away from me, and I snapped back to myself.