Chapter 6

The sounds of busy officers and detectives going about their business all but drowned out the chugging groan of the printer as it spat out the last known whereabouts of the cell phone signal and its directions. Tamsin snatched the still warm paper from the printer's bed and folded it, checking around her to see that the coast was still clear. No Dyson.

She grabbed her coat and spun it around her shoulders. It wasn't that she was afraid to tell Dyson that this was her case, and hers alone. She had no problems with telling the lovelorn Wolf to back off. But he would get inquisitive and nosy. It could waste precious time. The tech guys had just managed to get a read on the signal moments before it had died, and this gave the case a refreshed sense of urgency.

"There's my new partner," Dyson's gruff, cheerful voice brought a sigh of frustration to Tamsin's lips, "where have you been all day?" The Shifter sauntered in through the precinct's emergency side exit. He held a coffee cup in one hand, with the other tucked into the front pocket of his faded blue jeans, its thumb hooked through the belt loop. He had a cocky smile on his lips and his pale blue eyes shone with good humor. "I thought you went AWOL on me."

"Is that your way of saying I forgot to take you on your walkies today?" Tamsin smirked back at him. She flipped her hair over the collar of her jacket and cocked her hips to the side in annoyance when Dyson leaned against her desk. He stood right between her and the car keys she'd dumped there on her way in.

"What-cha got there?" He nodded at the file in her hand, into which she unceremoniously stuffed her freshly printed directions.

"Down, boy. This case is mine." She had to lean around him to grab her keys and took the opportunity to husk into his ear, "Dark Fae business," she leaned back, her pale green eyes glimmered teasingly under the artificial lights of the police station. "You wouldn't be interested." She swatted him playfully across the shoulder before turning her back on him, "enjoy your day, buddy." The Valkyrie swaggered out of the precinct, sparing a covert glance through her long blond hair at her partner. He leaned against her desk as he watched her leave, sipping his coffee thoughtfully, and, Tamsin hoped, avoiding the mountain of paperwork waiting patiently for him.

"Lauren should have come with us," Maia grumbled as she eased her legs out of the bright yellow Camaro Bo drove. She didn't wait for the Succubus to help her out of the car. "It's not safe for her to be alone."

"They're targeting you and yours, remember? Not me or mine. Besides, the Ash called her in. She'll be safe with him." Bo rolled her eyes in exasperation and jogged over to Maia's door, bending to help the human out. Maia swatted her hand away and groaned against bruised, resisting muscles.

It took her a moment, but she finally managed to unfold herself and step away from the vehicle. Bo took the opportunity to shut the door for her.

"I just don't want to be responsible for anyone else going through what I did," Maia mumbled.

Lauren had warned Bo the night before that Maia's moods might swing wildly and unpredictably over the next few days. Every time Lauren or Bo had woken her the night before to check on her, she'd responded with jokes, and seemed almost hell-bent on lightening the dark anxiety that hovered over them like a bad dream. She'd woken the next morning in much the same mood, but grew more and more irritable as they day had gone by, and leaving Lauren alone at her home had left Maia downright grumpy.

Bo tried not to take it to heart. Maia and Lauren had almost become friends, despite Maia's Dark affiliations and Lauren's servitude and loyalty to the Light; and Maia's anxiety for her, paired with what Lauren had told her was called Post-Concussion Syndrome had flipped her pleasant demeanor into a nasty attitude within a couple of short hours.

Kenzi pulled the door open for them just as they reached the threshold, and they brushed past wordlessly. Bo only smiled at her best friend in greeting. Vex was sitting on the couch, sucking noisily on a Freezee and watching The Gates on their large, flat-screen TV. He jerked his head at them in greeting.

"Dude, did a piano fall on you or something?" Kenzi looked Maia up and down and flinched in shock at the mirthless, cackling laugh Maia gave in reply.

"I think that might have hurt less," Vex commented, not turning away from the 'succubus' portrayed on the screen, sucking her own boyfriend nearly dry.

Bo frowned as she leaned back against the island in the kitchenette, watching while Maia eased across the room around the shabby furniture. Kenzi hid a grin that seemed almost cruel behind a cough. Bo didn't notice, their attention was focused on Maia as she dropped with a grunt into the couch, as far away from Vex as possible. She cradled her casted arm in her lap and her head in her free hand, massaging her temples and squeezing her eyes shut against the light and sound that suddenly seemed far more intense than they ought to be.

"Where's the Doc?" Vex seemed far more invested in his show than in the answer to his question. Still, it brought the Succubus back to the here and now.

"At her apartment, probably leaving to meet with Hale soon," Bo answered, too distracted by her own troubles to notice his lack of real concern. She busied herself with making tea instead, feeling totally restless with Tamsin tracing the text message Maia had received from Seth earlier that day. There was nothing for her to do but wait until the Valkyrie called with the results. It was making her antsy, and if people didn't stop asking her about Lauren's whereabouts soon, she'd start getting nervous herself about her girlfriend's safety.

The expansive O'Meara estate was well out of the city limits. It took Tamsin just over an hour to roll up to the elaborately designed iron gate. The sky in the city had been overcast when she'd first set out, but here it was flawlessly blue. The early afternoon sun shone brilliantly through the trees that lined the road from the highway exit to the driveway, leaving dappled patches of light and shadow cascading carelessly over the road and into the windshield of her truck. The kingly ash and black walnut trees, decorated by the occasional stab of bright crimson from a red maple, that lined the road crowned the beautiful grounds that made up the O'Meara property. Tamsin's eyes wandered over the canopy and lingered over the grassy knoll that surrounded the Victorian mansion, sprawled luxuriously in its center.

A guard booth stood sentry on the side of the road just outside the gate. Its polished steel surface glinted painfully in the cheerful sunlight. It was free of any adornment but for the grill at eye level, at once both its receiver and speaker. Tamsin rolled down her window as she pulled up beside it. It was warmer out here than in the city. A sweet breeze brushed playful fingers through Tamsin's hair as she stuck her head out, carrying with it the fragrant woodsy smells of bark, trees, and earth, and grass and flowers growing somewhere out of sight. It was enough to distract Tamsin for a moment, eyes fluttering in pleasure at the sensation of warm, clean sunlight sinking deep into her skin.

"O'Meara Estate. Please state your business," the sentry booth rattled off in a monotone, yanking the detective out of her relaxed thoughts. She blinked and stuttered, shuffling to pull her badge off her belt.

"Detective Tamsin. Here on police business." She flashed her badge at the machine, realizing belatedly that it had no lens, and no camera. Tamsin clipped it back onto her belt sheepishly, feeling quite foolish and grateful that no one had been around to see her flustered.

"Welcome," it replied in its tinny, automated voice. The enormous gilt iron gates eased open silently, echoing the booth's spoken welcome with an open-armed one of its own.

"Creepy…" Tamsin muttered as she tapped her foot gently to the gas and glided through. Loose gravel crunched audibly under the heavy treads of her tires. The driveway swung in a gentle arc to her left, and suddenly, the flowers the sweet-smelling breeze had hinted at came clearly into view. Velvety reds and deep blues waved cheerfully among dozens of shades of green. Specks of gold and dashes of pink and purple splashed across a canvas of flowers, and plants swayed amongst each other, interrupted only by patches of the rough tan of stone benches and land bridges. It was dazzling, entrancing. Tamsin could hardly keep her eyes off the lush garden that seemed to creep along the side of the house.

She parked just outside the mansion's enormous porch. A pair of Corinthian columns stoically carried the second story, the base of which also served as a massive roof for the open portico. Two wicker chairs occupied it, padded with linen pillows a shade lighter than the lawn's grass. A small round wicker table with a clear glass surface completed the set.

A gentleman dressed in a butler's suit stood to the side closest to the outdoor furniture, carrying a silver platter with what looked like white hand towels stacked neatly on it. He waited patiently for her to shut the door of her car and stroll up the steps, then bowed gracefully.

"Detective Tamsin. Welcome to the O'Meara Estate. Your identification, please?" his posh British accent fit right in. He looked down his long, large nose at her through hooded brown eyes. Wordlessly, Tamsin pulled her badge from her belt and flashed it at him. He nodded his satisfaction and, as expressionlessly as his greeting, offered her a towel.

Tamsin frowned at the gesture, her lips puckering up slightly at the oddity, the quaintness of it. Still, she plucked a towel, and found to her surprised delight that it was warm and damp. The sweet perfume of jasmine permeated the air, and the Valkyrie's shoulders relaxed, despite herself, at the soothing sensation of the soft, warm, scented towels.

"This way, please," the butler offered the tray again as he spoke, and Tamsin dropped her used towel on it before he bustled off to open the door for her and lead her inside.

Tamsin's eyes widened at the sight that greeted her. The foyer was a display of fine marble, stretched out in a wide semi-circle with a pair of hallways that extended to the left and right of the entrance. A deep, soft burgundy rug stretched from beneath her feet and led to a pair of dark wood double doors just ahead of her. Pretty maids, dressed in traditional French Maid uniforms, fluttered feather dusters at side tables upon which large clusters of deep purple amethyst and clear, glittering quartz sat, alongside a leather guestbook and calling cards, a small goblet of fresh ink and a beautiful feather quill. Vases filled with fresh flowers from the garden perched delicately on some of these surfaces, or rose elegantly from the floor. The massive windows she'd seen from outside were opened just slightly, allowing the gentle, fragrant breeze to ruffle the light linen drapes playfully. Two sets of stairs on either side of her glided in perfect arcs up and around the lobby, to join in the canopy that made the upstairs hallway. The railings were exquisitely fine in their design, iron vines wound in a pattern around the bars and the tops of the rails shone a bright burnished copper in the sunlight that streamed through the ceiling-high windows.

The butler cleared his throat. The tray he'd been holding was being carried away by one of the silent, attentive maids. Now he gestured with his pristinely white gloved hands for her to follow him, then turned sharply to the left hall and strode down it purposefully.

They passed two doors on their way to their destination, only one of which was open. A quick, inquisitive peek showed Tamsin that it led to a small guest room, but was pulled along too quickly to get a good look inside. Finally, they stopped at the threshold of what seemed to be the Master Study.

Tamsin stopped in the middle of the room and turned, drinking in the warm brown, gold and ochre tones of the chamber she'd been led to. The wallpaper was a fine tan parchment in color, lined with soft, almost transparent gold pinstripe. The brown carpeting here was as lush and deep as the red rug in the foyer, and her feet sank into it pleasantly. An enormous dark wood desk dominated most of the room. It was mostly bare, but for the rich, oiled, brown leather mat that sat squarely at its center, the bronze desk lamp at its corner, and a cup of fountain pens. Another small bottle of ink waited patiently beside it.

A desk chair, also padded with a dark soft leather, sat behind the desk, like a massive throne. A pair of small, cozy loveseats waited invitingly on either side of the front of the desk. A stuffed moose head hung over the back wall, keeping vigilant watch over the study. Rows of old, leather-bound books stood attentively on the shelves that lined the wall to Tamsin's right, and the vague scent of sandalwood teased her senses. The lights in here were kept relatively dim, it was a room meant for relaxation and repose as much as for appointments. The window on Tamsin's left was partly shuttered, though she could see it gave the master of the study a clear view of the driveway.

Tamsin clasped her hands behind her back, unable to shake the slight feeling of intimidation such a show had offered her. She smiled tensely at the butler, the muscles in her shoulders stiffening again. He didn't smile back, but gave her a slight bow.

"May I offer any refreshment? A glass of chilled chardonnay, perhaps? Or coffee?"

"No," she replied, feeling edgy and uncomfortable. Then, "thank you."

He nodded, though if her politeness in response to his pleased him at all, it didn't show on his still, stony features. He shut the door without turning his back. Tamsin listened for the click of the lock, and was relieved when it never came.

She was only left waiting for a few moments when the door opened again, and a tall, well-dressed gentleman stepped inside with a charming smile and a large hand offered in greeting. Gray dusted his temples, his thick, dark brown hair was slicked back without looking at all greasy. He was clean shaven, his jaw was square set, and his strong, masculine chin carried a small dimple in its middle. When he smiled, another dimple appeared in his right cheek. Familiar, cheerful brown eyes glittered warmly at Tamsin.

She accepted his handshake, noticing immediately that his clean warm hands were worn and calloused. The way he stood and walked, with his back and broad shoulders held straight and proudly, with a confident gait and a constant, subconscious alertness, told Tamsin instantly that he was a warrior. Like her.

But something about him made her uneasy.

"Detective Tamsin. It's a pleasure to meet you," his voice was deep and rough, commanding, but not at all unpleasant, "my name is Mr. Jack O'Meara. But you can call me Jack." He gave her a companionable grin, brown eyes twinkling as though they were in on a little secret together, and the dimple in his cheek appeared again, quick as a flash. Tamsin thought she detected the subtle cadence of an Irish accent in his words. Without turning, he shut the door gently behind him and gestured for Tamsin to take a seat, into which she sank deeply. They were even more comfortable than they looked.

O'Meara stepped around his desk and sat in his own throne-like chair, his arms resting on either arm like they belonged there. He canted only slightly to the right, and Tamsin knew he was used to feeling like a king in his own home. Perhaps in many others as well.

"What is it that I can do for you?" Straight, pearly white teeth flashed behind thin lips. He took a moment to straighten his suit jacket and his textbook silver tie, though neither were even slightly out of place.

"Mr. O'Meara," Tamsin began, leaning forward a little in her chair, "I'm here on a missing person's case. Do you know a woman called Sethria Remis?"

O'Meara's eyes shut and a slow smile spread languidly again on his handsome face. He leaned his head back, a hand raised to touch his lips with his fingers thoughtfully.

"Ah, yes. Madam Seth. Charming woman. I'm sorry to hear she's gone missing. But that doesn't explain why you're here, in my office."

"We traced her cell phone in hopes of finding her." Tamsin licked her lips. If the display of wealth and power she'd been shown had done more than intimidate her just the slightest bit, it also gave her reason to tread lightly. At least for the time being. "It led me here," she decided to be concise, and allow him to draw what conclusions he might.

O'Meara breathed deeply, loudly, before leaning forward. His elbows settled on the desk in front of him, and his fingers steepled. He pressed his mouth to them for a moment and stared piercingly at Tamsin.

"I take it you don't have a warrant, Detective?" he paused, considering. Then he nodded and stood, his fingers pressing lightly against the table's waxed surface. "Search the mansion, if you like. I have no missing persons here, let alone the lovely Madam Seth. But I would ask you to leave any closed doors as they are. You understand a man's need for privacy, I'm sure?" The gentleman smiled indulgently at her, and Tamsin felt her guts roil uneasily at the sight of his dimple flashing in and out of existence on his cheek.

He stepped around his desk and offered his strong, rough hand to help her from her seat. She took it gingerly and stood as well. With a smooth, easy motion, he leaned over and the door snicked open quietly at his touch. Tamsin saw the butler still waiting stoically a few steps down the hall. He didn't even turn his head to look.

"Walter will show you around." O'Meara turned to leave, then stopped and turned again to face Tamsin. He smiled affably at her. "I do apologize, however. I have an appointment I must make, and will be leaving within the next ninety minutes. At that time, I must ask that you also vacate the premises."

Tamsin responded with a tense smile of her own and nodded.

"Of course, sir."

With a final dip of his chin, he turned and left. Walter stepped sharply up to the threshold as O'Meara's staccato footsteps faded.

"On your leave, Ma'am," he prompted her briskly.

Late afternoon sunlight streamed steadily through the windows, giving the large airy apartment a warm glow of its own. Her heels clicked against the smooth gray floor as Lauren stepped over to the coat rack and pulled her favorite leather jacket from one of its hooks.

She was running late, again, a habit she was falling deeper and deeper into over the past few weeks. Lauren had once prided herself on her punctuality, but it had been growing harder and harder for her to keep her schedule as of late. Ever since she and Bo had become an item. The Succubus was impossible to resist.

Her lateness this time, however, was not due to her lover's sublime advances. Lauren had spent much of the morning after Bo, Tamsin and Maia left examining Maia's x-rays and brain scans to catch any blood clots, slow internal bleeding, or any other signs of severe brain damage that might have resulted from, or accompanied, her head trauma. And she'd spent a great deal of time keeping track of the oddly unseasonable cold front they'd been experiencing in the city, which only seemed to stretch within a few dozen miles of the city's border. It was more than unseasonable, Lauren thought. She'd put together a list of Fae with the power to tamper in this way with the weather, at Hale's behest. It was both short, and terrifying.

She'd also been poring over samples of Bo's blood, and trying to develop a new serum for Bo's injections. Odd enough that Bo had developed such a strong resistance to the old ones, but Bo's Hunger had seemed to magnify ten-fold over the past few weeks as well. Trick had requested she run some extra tests on Bo, and the results had been baffling to say the least. Lauren felt that the old barkeep knew something he was refusing to tell her.

She was anxious, to say the least, about Bo's wellbeing. Lauren pulled her coat on and stuffed her phone into its pocket. Her hand hovered over it as she fought the urge to pull it back out and call Bo. Just to check up on her.

Lauren's lips pressed together into a tight, straight line. There was no time. Bo seemed alright a few hours ago, when she'd taken Maia back to the clubhouse with her. But Lauren was running dangerously late now, and Hale was growing less and less forgiving of that. She knelt at the foot of the counter that separated her kitchen from the living room to pick up her briefcase, and with quick, determined strides, made her way to the door.

She was almost within arm's reach when the door creaked on its hinges, then crashed open and fell to the floor. Tawny eyes widened in shock and Lauren's mouth dropped open, she barely managed to hold in a startled cry of fear. A massive shape bent to fit in through the doorframe, its golden, feral eyes burning, the sharp, angular features of his face twisted into a wild, hideous scowl. Hot breath echoed in a deep, muscular chest as the bear-like Fae stepped forward and towered over her.

Lauren stumbled back, dropping her briefcase to the floor with a loud clatter. A second frame, almost as large as that of the Bear that loomed over her, stepped through the doorway. Broad shoulders shrugged into a perfectly tailored Armani jacket, and the tall, well-dressed gentleman took his place between Lauren and the Shifter. He smiled amiably, a dimple showed in his right cheek and his brown eyes, so familiar to the perceptive doctor, twinkled good-naturedly.

"Now, Dolph. There's no need to be rude," his deep voice lilted with the barest traces of an Irish accent. He didn't turn to address the Shifter behind him, only stared intensely at the blond doctor standing in front of him. Dolph seemed to ignore him, wild golden eyes focused on Lauren as her darker eyes scanned the room for a weapon, any weapon. She never kept one of her own, and Bo never left any of hers. The kitchen knives were her closest bet, but they were tucked away, safe, in a drawer. Too far for her to reach.

"Stand down, Soldier!" The gentleman's voice was commanding, and left no room for disobedience. Dolph snarled, teeth flashing beneath his curled lip. Then he seemed to drop a few inches, the sharp, angular planes of his face flattened and blunted into Neanderthalic, human features. His lip was still curled in a sneer, and his eyes still glowed molten with his Bear, but he shuffled back a step and clasped his hands behind his back for good measure.

The briefcase could make a good, heavy blunt weapon. Lauren didn't dare to glance at it, to pay it any attention. She held still, made no sudden moves.

Dolph's commander suddenly smiled again, almost kindly. He offered a large hand for Lauren to shake. "My dear doctor Lewis. It is a pleasure."

"Wish I could say the pleasure was mine," Lauren hated how her voice trembled. Her heart beat terribly, she could hear every thudding stroke in her ears. Maia instantly came to mind. Without realizing it, her fingers hovered again over her pocket, where she'd tucked her phone.

O'Meara's warm, calloused hands covered it immediately. He was gentle, even as he pulled the phone out of her pocket and dropped it on the floor. Tenderly, he swept his fingers over her cheek, her eyes shut tight in anxious anticipation.

"Not yet, Pet," he whispered to her softly. His soft breath puffed against her hair. It smelled like spearmint, and the fragrance lingered in Lauren's nostrils for a long moment. He moved away. Lauren's fingers clenched and she opened her eyes again to stare in frightened bafflement at him.

"No harm will come to you, I assure you." The gentleman gave her a calculating look, lips twitching against a cold, cruel smile. "At least, not yet."

He turned away smartly, but Lauren saw that ruthless grin spread across his face like a hungry shark that smelled blood in the water. "I would appreciate it if you came quietly, Doctor."