“I probably should tell you something,” I said as I sipped my coffee.
Damon and I sat in a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant owned by two extraordinary chefs who’d left the hustle and bustle of San Francisco to settle here. I’d ordered crème brûlée French toast with bacon, of course, and Damon had a lobster hash with eggs over easy. We’d taken a square table in a corner, our knees touching. Every so often, he ran his hand along my thigh.
“That sounds ominous.”
“You’d know better than I would. When I met Ben, he told me about this thing called the Proclamation Server. Somebody sent an e-mail announcing my existence and where I live. It came from Aunty Mommy’s e-mail address. That’s how Ben knew where to come find me.”
“I wondered,” Damon said darkly. He pulled out his cell and started check his e-mail. He scowled and then snorted. “Nice reply.”
“I thought so. Ben also taught me to shield myself so people couldn’t find me.”
“I should have done that,” he said grimly.
“Why didn’t you? No, wait, I know. You’ve been shielding me, haven’t you? So I didn’t need to know how.”
“It seemed prudent and you didn’t exactly seem willing to let me teach you anything.”
I grinned and leaned toward him. “I’m willing to let you teach me now,” I said. “Where do you want to start?”
His eyes flamed and he clenched his fingers on his fork. Lucky for him, he’d punched the cabinet with his off hand, or he’d have had trouble eating. “You’re an evil woman. You know that?”
I smiled and ran my tongue over my lower lip. “I don’t know what you mean,” I said innocently.
Without warning, he pulled me close and kissed me. It was hot, quick, and devastating. If I’d been standing, I’m pretty sure I’d have fallen over.
He pulled back, his eyes locking with mine. The desire in his eyes made me shake.
“I think you might be the evil one,” I said huskily.
“Just giving as good as I get.”
It took me a couple of minutes to cool off enough to remember what we’d been talking about. “Who would have sent that message? And why announce my existence?”
“I wish I knew. Whoever it was, they wanted to stay anonymous.”
“Could it be the same person who destroyed my shop?”
“The timing’s highly coincidental. I just don’t know what the game could be. If they just wanted to out you to the magical world, why attack your place? And why go after your aunt?”
“You’re saying you think Aunty Mommy’s murder, the vandalism, and the e-mail are all connected?”
He nodded.
“Okay. The cop shows always ask who benefits from the crimes. Is there anybody you can think of who does?”
“Too many.”
That took me aback. “Seriously?”
He set down his fork and focused just on me. “Think about it. You and Mason benefit from Adriane’s death. He inherits and you get free of her. Then there are your parents. Her death brings you back into the fold. Until you are twenty-seven, your life is critical to their survival. Then there are Adriane’s enemies. Who knows how many people she’d angered enough to want revenge? There are at least a half dozen that I know of littering her old life. Then there are her business dealings. If she’s dead, do those fall through? Did competitors knock her out of the way?”
My head had begun to throb. “I get it. That avenue of investigation isn’t going to help us much.” Something occurred to me. “Who benefits from vandalizing my place? I don’t have a lot of competitors, and it’s not a cutthroat business. The whole thing seemed more angry—like a tantrum. Why?”
Damon gave a little shrug.
“You still think whoever it was came for me and, when I wasn’t home, they got pissed and tore the place apart.”
He grimaced. “I did say that someone might be after you.”
“Aunty Mommy’s killer. That didn’t seem real likely.”
“And now?”
“It’s a definitely possibility—depending on why someone killed her. The dumping of the gargoyle on her seems personal. There has to be a thousand better ways to kill someone. This one is symbolic. But of what?”
We poked at the question for a while but couldn’t come to any concrete conclusions. Hell, we couldn’t come to any semisolid conclusions. I changed subjects.
“Where could Aunty Mommy have hidden the gargoyle females? She had to have put them somewhere. She never would have crushed them up into gravel. Not if she might have a use for them at some point. Speaking of which, why not use them for guarding somewhere like the males?”
I felt like I was practically speaking a foreign language. The whole conversation was completely unreal. Gargoyles, for fuck’s sake.
“It’s risky to force gargoyles into service and requires a great deal of magic. But that magic needs constant renewal—even with a blood binding.”
“What is that anyway?” I asked, interrupting.
“It’s a ritual that binds their service for a hundred years. It’s rarely given because it could destroy an entire warren. The females can’t breed without males and may choose to join other warrens. Though gargoyles generally mate for life, a blood binding will take priority, and some females can’t live with that. In this case, it sounds as if the males took the binding to protect the warren.”
“For eternity. Not a hundred years, either. The females don’t make that sort of binding?”
He shook his head. “Never. They are the heart of a warren. Its health and safety is their only priority, save for their own children. A blood binding wouldn’t take because they’d never put anything above those two things.”
“Coercing their males by holding the females hostage wouldn’t sit well with the ladies,” I said. “Especially since that threatens the well-being of the warren. The Wicked Bitch would have had to do something serious to keep them from rioting and fighting back. At the same time, she’d want to preserve them in case they became useful. She’d probably be thinking she could use the males to force the females into temporary service. In the end, she’d have had to neutralize them somehow or find herself at the mercy of a pack of angry gargoyle females.”
“That’s my guess,” Damon agreed.
“So where would she put them?”
“There are couple key requirements. First, natural elements erode magic. So she couldn’t put them outside or drop them in the river. She also wouldn’t put them underground or surrounded by earth. It amplifies their strength. Second, she’d need to recharge her containment spells fairly regularly. Female gargoyles have magical abilities and will fight those spells. Remember, the males said they couldn’t feel their mates, so however they are being held, it involves quite a lot of power.”
I thought about that. “All right. She needed somewhere out of the weather that she could access regularly. I’m not sure that helps a whole lot.” Or did it? “She’d want total control of the space, which means she’d have to own it. Then she could install security and keep others out.”
I looked excitedly at Damon. “Maybe she’s got another property we don’t know about. If so, then there has to be records at the courthouse. We should go down there and—” Damn. “It’ll have to be after my employee meeting,” I said, deflating a little.
“I can go check while you’re at your meeting. It shouldn’t take me long.”
My brows rose. “I thought you wanted to stay glued to my side?”
“I do, but you should be safe enough surrounded by your employees in a diner.”
“You’ll have to take Ajax with you,” I said. “He won’t be able to come inside with me.” Right now the big dog was in Damon’s truck with the windows rolled down.
“We’ll be fine. I won’t make him bite me again.”
“Make him?”
“I was getting loud and angry. He thought I was threatening you. It was my fault.”
“I don’t think that’s the way it’s supposed to work,” I said. “You weren’t actually threatening me.”
“After what that poor guy has been through, I can’t blame him. Can you?”
“Obviously not.”
He checked his watch then signaled for the waiter to bring the bill. “It’s almost nine-thirty. We should go.”
We tussled a moment over who should pay the bill.
“First, this is a date, so I want to pay,” Damon said.
“Why can’t I?”
“I asked you out. That’s the way it works. Anyhow, you need to be putting your money into fixing your place. Unless you’re going to let me help you out on that front?”
I gave an adamant shake of my head.
“I didn’t think so. I can contribute in this tiny way, so let me.”
I didn’t argue anymore. On the way out, I realized I should apologize.
“That wasn’t exactly much of a date. All we did was talk murder and vandalism. Not exactly romantic.”
“You can make it up to me at dinner.”
“Are you asking me on a second date?”
“I’d ask you for a couple hundred right now, but you’d probably think I was being presumptuous.”
“How’s your hand?” I asked. It had turned purple and was swollen, though he was using it a little.
“Hurts.”
“If I agree to go out to dinner, will you heal yourself after?”
“If you promise not to go wandering off alone.”
“Deal.”