Out of Sight (20 page)

“A
prostitute,” Poppy said. She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. “It’s going to be the same as last time. Someone’s trying to frame Ward.”

She didn’t want to look at Sykes, but he said, “You’re probably right. This is too much of a coincidence.”

Poppy smiled at him, trying to convey her gratitude—and how much she loved him just because he was Sykes.

Another knock at the door startled Poppy. “Come in,” she said, and all eyes turned expectantly to see who would arrive next.

Six-and-a-half feet tall, hazel-eyed with dark brown hair curling past his collar, built like an agile heavyweight boxer, though no boxer had the kind of straight nose Nick Montrachet had, Poppy’s latest visitor wasn’t smiling.

Liam and Ethan came with him.

“Nick!” Poppy smiled. She had always liked Nick and the rest of the Montrachets a lot. “This is great. Welcome.”

He gave her a bear hug and she got the full force of that piercing hazel stare. Nick’s mouth was, according
to some female friends, something that should be against the law.

“Sykes,” he said, looking past her. He nodded to the rest. “This isn’t a social call.”

Poppy’s tummy dropped. She didn’t know how much more tension she could shrug off.

“Liam and Ethan brought me up because I asked them to. There should probably be a lot more of us here. I know what’s going on. Did you ever intend to contact the rest of the families?” He spoke to Sykes.

“Sit down,” Sykes said.

“I’d rather stand.”

Poppy sat down instead and didn’t like the troubled expressions on her brothers’ faces.

“I intended to talk to you,” Sykes said. “We’re going through some crazy times.”

“But you don’t think that, since they implicate all the psi families, you should have included us?”

Sykes bowed his head. “Mea culpa,” he said. “Guilty of carelessness. I got so tied up in what’s going on I only thought about sorting it all out. I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” Nick said, but the lines of his face softened a little. “I do know how it is to get caught up with things. I know there’s big stuff going down in New Orleans and it has the families’ names all over it.”

“How do you know?” Poppy asked.

Nick glanced around, taking in all players. He singled out Gray. “You’re married to Marley?”

“I am,” Gray said.

“Okay. I had a visitor, someone who apparently decided it was time to involve me. Disaster time has arrived, kiddies. He was a dude in old clothes—said he was Jude and I think he was one of yours, Sykes. He looked like you. He told me a long story, very long. He brought me up to date on the Embran?” He raised a questioning eyebrow and continued when everyone nodded. “This has been going on for months.”

“I hoped we could clear it up without spreading panic,” Sykes said.

That got him a very direct stare from Nick. “I don’t panic. We need this Harmony, or whatever the Ultimate Power is that it holds.” He pointed and kept his finger extended.

Four small gold keys shimmered in the air.

“To open this.”

A gold globe appeared above the keys.

“Still the good, old powerful Nick,” Sykes said. “I get the picture. You’re involved and we’d better not forget it again.”

Nick lowered his hand and the visions disappeared.

Absolute silence followed.

“I’m glad Jude came to you,” Marley said. “The more of us the better. We think we could be on the edge of an explosion of these Embran.”

“Something’s been puzzling me,” Poppy said. “We do have four keys but according to the missing pages each of the seven families should be holding one. Just about all of them turned up in the Court of Angels.”

“My grandfather told me about it,” Nick said before he turned sharply to Sykes. “You saw the missing pages? Where are they?”

“They’re safe but the Harmony isn’t with them.”

Nick nodded. “My grandfather told me about a meeting long ago. And about the keys. He said he had no proof but he’d heard rumors that some of the keys had gone missing.”

“Like the fifth, sixth and seventh ones still are,” Poppy said.

From his pocket Nick took a small leather bag. He pulled out two keys just like the others. “Only the seventh is missing,” he said. “My grandfather gave these to me before he died. He was afraid some of the keys would be missing because so much time passed. Could be a bunch of them were kept together in the end.”

There was a collective sigh.

“I guess we start rounds of the families,” Gray said.

Nick shook his head. “Not immediately. We should all have stayed closer so we knew enough to trust each other. Jude told me about the deaths, the earlier ones and the ones this time. This time it sounds like they intend something on a big scale.”

“So why not go to the other families?” Liam said.

“Because we’ve got to be sure none of them is involved with the Embran in some sort of power thing,” Sykes said.

Nick murmured assent and Poppy felt so cold she chafed her arms.

A cell phone rang and for a moment no one reacted. Then Gray started on the second ring and pulled his own phone from his pocket. He checked the readout, switched on and said, “Gray. What’s up.”

Whatever was up took a few minutes to explain and Gray put on his poker police face. His eyes weren’t quite so expressionless.

“We’ll be there,” he said, and put the phone back in his pocket. “Ethan, please stay with Marley. Don’t leave her even for a moment.”

Ethan nodded.

“Nick, would you stay, too, in case something comes up.” He gave the big man a significant look.

“While the rest of you go off and hide something else from me?” Nick said.

“We’re not going to hide a thing. This is about the first killing that happened—the singer. Poppy and Liam think they saw the killer and we may have an ID. Sykes was with all of us earlier. Once we’re done we’ll make sure you’re all the way in the loop.”

Nick grinned. He sat in a chair and made it look small. “Thanks, but now I know what’s necessary, I’ll be in the loop. I’ll make sure of that.”

N
at wished he didn’t feel the approach of doom. A seasoned detective wasn’t supposed to panic and he wasn’t, but mounting agitation wasn’t fun. And it didn’t help a thing.

“That wasn’t any fun, I know,” he told Poppy and Liam.

“At least we know where he is,” Poppy said.

He had decided to show them the actual body of the man they thought had been on the surveillance tape from Ward Bienville’s primary house. Photo identification might have been enough, but the real thing was available—if deteriorating fast—and there was no substitute for that.

They walked along the basement corridor to his office where Sykes and Gray waited. Nat had already been filled in on all the mumbo jumbo about keys and globes and books and…a lot of unlikely stuff. Unfortunately he believed it all.

He opened the door for Poppy and the three of them went in.

Sykes got up and put an arm around Poppy at once. Gray looked on expectantly.

“We’ve got a positive,” Nat said. “Not that it helps much.”

He saw Poppy’s reproachful glance and said, “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. Bienville will like the news.”

“I wish we knew where he fits in,” Gray said. “Even knowing someone else placed the singer in the foyer, doesn’t mean the same guy killed her. So it doesn’t let Bienville completely off the hook.”

“Ward Bienville is either a killer or he’s made a really bad enemy,” Sykes said.

The worried pucker between Poppy’s brows didn’t explain either the deep frown or her evident jumpiness.

“Do we have enough chairs for everyone?” Nat asked, and Sykes promptly made sure they were all sitting.

Liam leaned his forearms on his thighs. “Shoot, I don’t recall any mention of a key—not by any member of my family,” he said. “Where is it?”

“Probably among the ones we’ve already found,” Sykes said, sucking in the corners of his mouth. “Unfortunately. You could ask your folks, though.”

“They won’t know,” Liam said, and his sister nodded agreement. “We’ll have to see what we can find.”

“Do that,” Nat said. “Meanwhile forgive me if I concentrate on things I can see and touch. Like complain
ing spouses. And people walking into the street like zombies. And a growing body count.”

He had their attention. Absolute.

“I haven’t been updated on that body count in the last hour, so who knows how many there are now.”

Gray was the only one who didn’t react.

“What does all that mean?” Sykes said. “What zombies?”

“You saw the bodies in the morgue earlier,” Nat said. “They’ve been coming in ever since. Only now people are seeing them die. They just fall down and die. We had twenty-two the last I was told.”

“Horrible,” Poppy said.

“We don’t know who they are. They’re all mutilated the same way and they’re gradually rotting away.”

Poppy covered her mouth.

“Blades says they’re not human, they’re Embran as far as he can see. Some of them gradually take on other forms, but they still disintegrate.”

“So many of them,” Liam muttered. “Why are they dying? Will they all die?”

“We don’t know how many of them are here,” Sykes pointed out.

“Blades did make one very interesting observation,” Nat said. He looked at the Fortunes. “In the past they’ve always had eggs with them. Eggs with young Embran inside. Apparently that’s the way they’re born, or whatever they are. They ate the eggs and the little creatures inside.”

“Oh, don’t!” Poppy shuddered.

Nat continued. “We found bits of the eggs wherever there was an Embran crime and with the first one we encountered in Bolivar, who manifested like a Komodo dragon, and attacked Marley. The weaker he got the more he stuffed down the eggs but they weren’t working.”

“So it’s fair to assume they’ve given up on them?” Sykes said. “Hell, let them be dying out before they get any closer to doing what they came to do.”

“At the same time we’re getting calls from hospitals about people coming in with similar symptoms—and similar recent social contact,” Nat said.

“The calls from the hospitals. Why are they contacting the police?” Liam said.

“In every case a husband or wife, or some relative has taken the patient in with amnesia. At first it’s total, then it gradually fades in a fairly short space of time.”

“You think there’s a connection between what is showing up in the morgue and these people with temporary amnesia?” Gray said. He had the edgy look of a man who wanted to be somewhere else and Nat knew where that was.

Nat took a deep breath. He shouldn’t be looking forward to this but he was. “They start remembering but only to a specific point.”

He had everyone’s rapt attention.

“Their last recollections are either of being in a movie house down by the river—at the same movie, same day,
same time. Or they were at one of the fundraisers for Ward Bienville. I think Embran moved in to use them as host bodies. Then, when Embran felt themselves deteriorating they vacated the host bodies again and tried to go for help. It was too late for them but the hosts are returning to normal—except for gaps in their memories.”

“I
t’s a conspiracy to keep us apart,” Sykes said, shoving his cell back in his pocket.

They had left Nat’s office and were almost at the shop. Their plan was to go by the Court of Angels to check in with Pascal then go to Poppy’s for…just to be together.

“What is it?” Poppy said.

“Blades wants me back at the morgue.”

She made a face. “I hope I never have to go back there,” with a wicked grimace she added, “alive.”

“Not funny.” And he really didn’t think it was.

“At least Gray’s gone back to Marley,” Poppy said, and they passed the shop to set off for Fortunes. “You don’t need to take me back to my place. It isn’t far.”

He pulled her arm under his, happily accepted the shiver that went through him, and laced their fingers together. “Yes, I do and I don’t want you out alone. That’s why I prefer to see you home.”

He felt her bristle. “I won’t push it now, but I am not going to behave like a scared rabbit, Sykes. I can be careful and I’m not without my own skills.”

“What would you say if you were attacked? ‘Let me take a look at your aura.’ That would scare off the bad guys.”

“You’d be surprised what I might be able to do. And you don’t have to be rude.”

He had a hunch that whatever Poppy could do it wouldn’t include fighting off a stray Embran. “It’s my mouth,” he told her. “It’s got a mind of its own. Sorry.”

She gave that some thought, then smiled at him. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about the famous sealed room—not just the two of us—since you were with your family. I’ve got to admit I was hoping you’d find some treasure behind that wall,” Poppy said. “Preferably fabulous jewels and hunks of gold.”

He would tell her soon what he had hoped for. “That would have made you all happy.”

“Not as happy as seeing your face when you found those missing pages. Are you worried about the seventh key?”

“Yes,” Sykes said. “I’m going to follow Mario around and hope he produces it.”

“That could be a long shot.”

“I know. Pascal seems more worried about it than the rest of us. He gets agitated every time it’s mentioned.”

Poppy looked sideways at him. “Maybe he’s afraid it’s the Millet key you don’t have yet.”

“I already thought of that.” Not that Pascal’s turmoil helped. “What do you think of my cousin?”

She took a double step to keep up with him. “That’s right. David’s your cousin. He seems like a great kid. What do you think?”

“He’s growing on me. Bit of a shock though, huh? Pascal’s son turning up.”

“I wasn’t sure this was the first time they’d been around each other.”

“Yeah,” Sykes said. “David showed up looking for Pascal who now remembers the boy’s mother—he hasn’t told him he’d forgotten her. The birth certificate has Pascal’s name on it and he and the mom were both working for Habitat for Humanity at the time.”

“People are fascinating,” Poppy said. “I think that part of life’s lovely. The unexpected. Pascal should be a father. And from the look of Anthony, he’s loving the idea of the kid being around, too. I bet he’ll have him bulked up in no time. Lift those weights. Lift those feet—run—no walking on the treadmill. Poor David.”

“Poor David, nothing. He’s got a terrific dad.”

“Did his mother die?”

Sykes paused and looked at her. “I don’t know. It was his stepfather who beat him up and I get the feeling it wasn’t the first time. You wouldn’t think David would leave his mother alone to deal with that.” He shrugged. “Could be he thinks it’ll make it easier if he’s not there. Pascal will say something sooner or later.”

“You really don’t have to walk me home,” Poppy said as they passed Sugar Daddy’s where the level of
laughter almost made you want to look inside. “It isn’t even completely dark yet.”

“Soon will be. I’m going the same way. We might as well go together.”

“We’re not going the same way. You’re a control freak.”

He tightened his hold on her fingers and kept striding along. “Piffle, as the men say in those Jane Austen stories.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ve read them all. That woman knew how to write a romance. Sexual tension on almost every page.”

Poppy put her tongue in a cheek. “I bet you don’t tell your friends you read them.”

“I would if the subject came up. I’m all for glowering, heated, I-can-see-through-your-clothes stares.” He looked her up and down and took in a slow breath through his nose. “Oh, yeah. I did tell you about that being something else I can do, didn’t I?”

“Wow, we’ve got a talent in common,” she said, returning the visual favor. “You shouldn’t tell fibs.”

He made sure his smile was as evil as could be, which was pretty evil. “You don’t know if I’m telling a fib or not.”

Sidestepping in front of her, he took Poppy by the shoulders and held her there.

“What?” she said, but she looked seriously into his eyes.

“I’m glad,” he said, massaging her upper arms.

Poppy frowned. “Glad about what?”

He shook his head. “You do this to me. My mind goes to mush and I can’t finish a sentence. I’m glad you and I found each other, girl. I’ve been alone a long time and I didn’t expect that to change.”

She took her bottom lip in her teeth, but not before he saw it tremble.

Gently, he wrapped her against him and rested his chin on her head. He rocked her from side to side, absorbing every frisson of reaction between them.

Her hands slipped around his waist. “You are the last thing I thought would ever happen to me,” she said.

“Mmm. Darn Blades anyway. He wouldn’t even say why he wants me. We should already be enjoying wine.”

“And your etchings.”

He kissed her hair.

“But we can’t now, and you have to keep this lovely appointment. Or, do you?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Reluctantly he released her and took hold of her hand. “We can’t forget what we’re dealing with. I’ll get back as fast as I can.”

“I keep looking for someone to drop dead,” Poppy said. “I haven’t so far, have you?”

“You’re impossible.”

They reached Bourbon Street where the good times weren’t just rolling, they were pouring, crashing and exploding in every direction.

“You want a daiquiri in a plastic cup?” Sykes asked,
nodding to one of the daiquiri bars with its row of machines churning icy drinks in psychedelic colors.

Poppy elbowed him.

She had fallen silent and he noted her expression changed. When their eyes met, he felt a jolt. Poppy’s passion glowed.

“We’ve never really talked about…physical feelings,” he said. “How intensely do you feel it when we touch?”

“Sometimes it’s like I imagine a burn would be,” Poppy said.

Every fresh eruption of neon from a window or doorway streaked her shimmering dark hair with colored light and intensified the intriguing lines of her face.

A dangerous question it might be, but he asked, “Have you felt that with anyone else?”

“No.” She frowned slightly. “It’s a Millet thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But only when we meet someone who should have special meaning for us. Ben and Willow Bonded because they were like this together. It meant their lives were entwined forever. Gray and Marley, too.”

They got to St. Ann Street and almost to the alley where Poppy preferred to enter Fortunes.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Sykes said. The feelings he had for her were new territory for him. It seemed as if, minute to minute, he crossed another barrier he had not even known existed in his mind.

Poppy paused. She studied his face for a moment. “I don’t ever want to leave…” Her voice trailed off and he knew she was afraid of overwhelming him. “I’ll come with you and find a place to wait,” she finished.

“No, honey. I know you don’t want to be anywhere around the morgue.” He led her to the doorway in the alley. “Is it okay if I come back?”

They stood with their arms around each other again and she turned up her face to kiss him.

Poppy would never be in the forgettable kiss category. She nibbled and licked and when he returned her nip for nip, reaching tongue for reaching tongue, he wondered if the singed-all-over sensation he had was the same for her.

“Mmm, of course,” she murmured on a quick breath break. “Come back for me. I’ve got an excellent assistant general manager. Except for final approvals he just about runs the place anyway. I don’t tell him that because he already knows it.”

Sykes knew how hard he was, and that Poppy knew it, too. She clamped herself too him and squirmed just a little. “You are an answer to my dreams,” he told her.

“What kind of dreams?”

“You know darn well.” He cupped her bottom and eased her even closer, pressing her into the perfect gap between his spread legs. “I want you so badly,” he whispered in her ear.

“No!” She glanced into the gathering darkness and the St. Ann Street end of the alley and placed one of
his hands on her breast. Immediately, she slid her own fingers down and squeezed him rhythmically. “I wouldn’t have known you wanted me if you hadn’t told me. Weird, I want you, too, Sykes.” She kissed him again, her mouth wide open.

“Whoa.” Sykes almost leaped back. He stood beside her and leaned on his straightened arms against the wall. “We’re going to have a disaster here if we don’t stop.”

“Or something beautiful,” she said, smiling.

“Get inside, you hussy,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

She opened the door and went in, leaning out again to say, “Bye. Later. Yum, yum.”

He hurried away.

Poppy waited only a couple of minutes. She knew where he was headed. She would follow and surprise him by whisking him away the minute he was through with his appointment. Surprises were good things. Anyway, she couldn’t bear just waiting around in the club for him to come back.

She gave him four minutes altogether. He was so tall she’d be able to pick him out under the lights and she couldn’t afford to get too close.

Poppy slipped out of the door and closed it behind her. She felt mischievous and excited at the same time—and very, very sexy. What Sykes had let her feel right here in the alley should not be wasted for long.

She headed back out. St. Ann’s had its share of
nighttime traffic. Poppy reveled in the atmosphere of slight madness and the determination to enjoy every moment of a city that existed for good times.

“Hey, Poppy,” someone shouted behind her. “Wait up a sec.”

She turned and slowly started back toward a man who looked familiar. “Who is it?” she said.

“Marcus. We spoke in the club the other night. I’ve been trying to catch you. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Okay.” She didn’t remember any Marcus and didn’t think she wanted to talk to him anyway but turning off customers was something she tried to avoid.

She drew close enough to see his face, or she could have if he hadn’t just pulled a stocking cap down to his chin.

Poppy spun around to run, but the man took her by the neck, pressed his fingers into the soft flesh on either side of her windpipe.

She couldn’t shout or scream.

The pressure grew and her head spun.

Her arms didn’t work the way she wanted them to.

Harder, he pressed and she started to choke. Kicking back at him did nothing. The grip was an iron vise.

Sound faded and her legs buckled. She fell straight down, her sight flickering out.