AMAZON KINDLE VERSION A Siberian Werewolf In London EDITED 3 9 2012 (8 page)

The couple got away with their secret, but what became of them? Melisande shook her head to clear it. She often found a story behind a tapestry, but without proof, no one would believe her if she told them a woman wove most of this piece.

She still felt echoes of fear woven into the threads—the couple’s fear of discovery and their fear for each other. Because they decided to try to fool the master weaver, they must have been desperate. But it all happened a long time ago. Melisande would never know the end of the couple’s story.

Grigori watched as Melisande fought to come back to the present. He knew she used her psychic powers to somehow connect with the tapestry. It was an amazing feat. Melisande didn't seem to consider what she did unusual. Could she actually feel the tapestry's history, or was it something more?

Grigori decided he needed to talk with her about it when they got back to the hotel. Melisande removed her gloves and started putting her instruments back in her kit. She still didn't speak but seemed lost in thought. She was not in a trance like before, but absorbed in her work. She picked up her kit and left the room and headed for the front foyer. Grigori stopped her in the foyer before she reached the front door.

"Melisande, are you all right?" he asked in concern.

"Yes, I'm fine, just thinking . . .”

"We need to wait for Officer Kincaid and Officer Hampton, remember?"

"Oh, that's right," she said, suddenly frowning as she finally glanced up at him.

Grigori felt glad to see her eyes looked clear and bright. Melisande had completely recovered from her trance. He looked around and found one of the household staff loitering in a doorway, probably watching to see what he and Melisande were up to.

"We are ready to leave now. Please inform our driver, and do you know where the officers from Scotland Yard might be waiting?" Grigori asked the man.

"I believe they are in the kitchen, sir. I'll fetch them,” said the staff member.

Melisande looked at Grigori and wanted to laugh. Of course, they were in the kitchen. They seemed to be eating constantly. True to his word, the staff member escorted the two missing officers to the front door.

"Did you find anything?" Grigori asked the men who were conspicuously brushing crumbs off their uniforms. Apparently the officers had enjoyed a similar version of tea in the kitchen.

"We found a spot in a tree across from the drive,” Kincaid said. “Looks like someone was up there watching, like you said. But we didn't see anyone. He probably realized we were on to him and slipped away."

"The car is ready, sir," said the staff member.

"Please let Lady Ashtown know I will contact her with my findings in a few days,” Melisande instructed.

"Very good, Miss," answered the staff member.

The men took up their positions and ushered Melisande outside and into the car. She didn't know whether to be worried or not. Grigori felt someone watched them. But the officers seemed to have scared whoever it was away. Maybe this Funenko person would give up and go back to Russia, now that he knew Scotland Yard was on to him. She hoped so.

§

“Fools!”

Funenko stood in plain sight of the sedan as it pulled out of the driveway across the street. He wore a gardener’s uniform and hat and carried a pair of clippers in his hands and a pair of binoculars in his pocket.

Those stupid men from Scotland Yard had planned to catch him, he thought, as he moved to put the clippers in the back of the gardener’s van. He’d considered it very daring to park the van across from the Ashtown mansion. Funenko didn’t realize how useful the van was going to be as a disguise when he’d stolen it that afternoon.

 Of course, Scotland Yard couldn't catch him because he was much too smart for them, he thought, as he moved around to the driver’s side of the vehicle. But if they continued to get in his way, he would be happy to eliminate them. Throwing the hat into the passenger seat, he climbed into the van and reached beneath the dashboard to the wires dangling there.

He wanted to see Solovyov's woman. That’s why he’d climbed the tree with his binoculars. The van started, and Funenko reached down to put it into gear. He could have brought his rifle with him and ended everything today. Moving the van into traffic, Funenko headed back up town. Solovyov should be thankful he was willing to play.

Funenko gripped the steering wheel tighter, wishing it were someone’s neck. He was a patient man. He would plan his trap so well no one would realize he had tricked Solovyov. Then he would enjoy the woman, and leave her for Solovyov to find.

Solovyov’s woman was lovely, and Funenko pictured her tied to a bed, her eyes wide with fear. He was going to enjoy every minute of his time with her.

Revenge was indeed sweet. Funenko could almost taste it.

CHAPTER FIVE

Grigori sighed in relief as he escorted Melisande into their suite at the hotel. He felt the danger was increasing and wanted to know she was safe. She seemed preoccupied and wandered into their bedroom.

Grigori went into the living room. He needed to call Inspector Lewis for an update, as well as order room service for dinner. A big juicy steak would go a long way toward making him feel better about their situation. Officer Hampton took up his post outside in the hallway, while Kincaid seated himself again at the table. Grigori picked up the phone and called Lewis's office.

"Lewis, here.”

"It's Solovyov. Did your contacts find anything?" Grigori asked.

"News on the street is Funenko called in some more goons. He is said to be planning a hit. That's probably you and Miss Reule. Haven't caught sight of him yet. When we do, I'll let you know.”

"I'm expecting my cousin and his companion to arrive tomorrow. We won't need the officer in the suite after they arrive.”

"I suppose the lack of privacy is upsetting Miss Reule.”

"Yes.” Grigori didn’t miss Lewis’ attempt to make a suggestive remark. He chose to ignore it. Gentlemen did not kiss and tell, and Melisande was his business alone.

“Let me speak to Kincaid and I will inform him of the change.”

“He’s right here.” Grigori said handing the phone to Kincaid. He watched as Kincaid answered the phone and listened to his superior’s instructions.

"Fine, then. Goodnight,” Kincaid said with some disappointment making his way to the door and leaving.

Melisande walked into the living room and smelled food. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she was starving. Grigori, smiling as if he actually heard her stomach, walked over and, taking her hand, led her to the table and held the chair for her.

"Where are Officer Kincaid and Hampton?" she asked.

"Their shift was over. I believe there is one new officer in the hall, but since we aren't going out, one guard should be enough,” Grigori answered.

Melisande lifted the cover of the silver salver to find a steak dinner. Her mouth watered in anticipation. The filet smelled delicious, and a big baked potato sat next to it.

"I ordered the meat cooked medium. I hope that it is okay?" Grigori asked.

"Perfect. It looks and smells delicious. I didn't realize how hungry I was.”

Grigori sat down to eat. He knew he needed to ask Melisande about her work with the tapestry, but hated to break the mood. Even though they were not talking, their feelings were comfortable and intimate. Once Melisande realized they were alone, she relaxed. As she ate, he felt her contentment coming through the mating bond. Grigori himself relaxed somewhat as well. Melisande's emotions were already affecting him. Their emotions combined and amplified as they flowed along the cord linking them.

They finished eating and moved in unison to sit on the couch before either spoke again.

"When you work on tapestries, what happens in your mind?" Grigori asked, putting his arm around Melisande. She hesitated a moment, but seemed to come to a decision and answered.

"I can see the people who worked on them. Sometimes I can pick up their feelings and learn things about them,” she said. "The piece today hides a secret in its threads. The weaver was ill. His wife did most of the work.”

"You can tell that from handling the tapestry? Have you ever tried to read other objects?"

"When I was a kid, I tried. Once I picked up an old knife that had been used to cut up animals. I felt the owner’s emotions coming through the handle, the animal’s fear still clinging to the blade. He had liked slicing up something that had once been alive. It scared me, and after that, I was more careful of what I tried to read. I also worked to develop defenses so I didn’t accidently do a reading on something used for killing or butchering. Before developing defenses in my mind, I was careful not to touch anything old, or belonging to a stranger, or I wore gloves. But now I can turn on my ability when I wish and keep it off the rest of the time.”

"But you can pick up on who made the object, as well as who owns it now?" he asked.

"Yes, I pick up on their emotions. When something is created a lot of energy goes into it. So sensing who made it is easy. The person who currently owns it must put their energy into the piece for me to feel it. They must touch it often or wear it. I didn’t sense Lady Ashtown at all in the tapestry. After she bought it, I don’t think she handled it much.

"How do you read objects?"

"I think it has to do with the energy. The people touch the objects and I pick up on their essence, the energy left behind. Sometimes in a tapestry I can see patterns in the threads—how things happened and why. It is rather hard to explain.”

"Do you realize you are using psychic energy to see your patterns?"

"How is that possible? I mean I know never to mention what I feel from a piece. I never have proof anyway, so why would someone believe me? I knew what I was doing was different, but I didn’t realize it was a psychic ability. I thought it was a fluke.”

"I felt the energy clearly today while you worked. It is definitely connected to your psychic abilities.”

"But what good is knowing who made a tapestry? It's not like knowing the future or something similar.”

"No, but you use your psychic ability to date your tapestries. You know before you send for the chemical testing whether a tapestry is real or not. Maybe there are other ways to use your gift as well.”

"I'm not sure how. I use it in my work because I like to know the people behind a piece. It is for my own entertainment, and I guess it makes me good at what I do. I will always be able to spot a fake. Most textiles today are machine made. There is nothing to read in the threads until someone puts their hands on them.”

"You said you can see patterns in the threads. Can you see other patterns?"

"I guess so. Puzzles have always been boring to me. I finish them too quickly. I stopped reading mysteries because I always knew what was going to happen next.”

"Sounds like your intuition is very developed. That is good. Now look for the patterns in real life situations. Like today, Funenko was in the tree. He knew we were coming. He is probably the same man who broke into your hotel room. So you have felt his energy. He knows I helped the police break up his smuggling operation, which was scheduled to bring in a shipment of drugs and guns to Siberia. What will Funenko do next?"

"He will continue to gather information until he perfects his trap. Then he will strike. Hating you, he wants revenge.”

"My thoughts, exactly. But Funenko needs more information. This means he is watching us.”