Beneath the Skin (14 page)

“Murphy?” I asked, sounding querulous. “What do hotels do with people’s shit when

they don’t check out on time and they need the room for the next guest?”

“Constance, relax,” he suggested in his
let’s calm down the hysterical female
Alpha male voice of reason.

“No, you relax,” I spat, even though he was not the one shaking and about to explode.

“My passport is in that room and all my stuff, and I don’t want to be stuck here while things are sorted out by a bunch of bullshit people in quasi authority. I don’t speak very good French! I’ve been trying to get back to my room for two freaking days now and nobody will let me go. And now I’m late checking out and I don’t even know where I live anymore and I’m tired and hungover and I hate France. I hate it!”

Murphy grinned and that only added fuel to my considerable fire of fury.

“I don’t like France, either,” he admitted with a conspiratorial wink. “So let’s leave. Your passport is safe. All your luggage is packed, including your enormous collection of shoes. There were so many I thought you’d been here for a month, but I’m told you only had the room for a week. That scares me because my cottage is big enough for both of us, but not five thousand pairs of shoes.”

“I did not bring five thousand pairs of shoes to Paris with me,” I cried.

“No, but I’m basing that figure on the dozen pairs you did bring with you. For one week.

Which doesn’t include the four pairs of new shoes I found still in their boxes that you obviously bought here. I had to use one entire suitcase just for shoes, Constance. Just. For. Shoes. Does that sound rational to you? Because it sounds bloody insane to me.”

“You’re a man. You wouldn’t understand,” I scoffed, cheeks burning.

“I wear shoes,” he said reasonably enough.

I gave him a scathing look.

“You packed my things? Including my dirty clothes?”

“Especially your dirty clothes,” he teased. “That’s one of the things I did last night. I went to your hotel, packed up your things and checked you out.”

“Can I have the receipt? I need to check my bank balance.”

“No need for that. I paid for the hotel,” he said. He waited for me to blow up.

“I’d rather you’d bought me a pair of Louboutin peep-toe pumps,” I said and he

completely lost it, laughing on the steps of the chateau like a lunatic.

Murphy had a rental car--a bright blue Renault--and all my stuff was in the trunk,

including my four new pairs of Paris shoes, my souvenirs, dirty clothes and passport.

I was about to ask the bastard how in the hell he’d gotten the combination to the safe in my room, but just as I was about to open my mouth, Jason Allerton walked up the gravel drive to the rental car and stood there in the November wind, smiling genially at us.

The trunk was open, my stuff in various stages of disarray as I checked over Murphy’s packing. I had my passport in hand, and Murphy stood nearby rolling his eyes as he tried to figure out whether he ought to laugh or be insulted by my inspection of his handiwork.

“Leaving?” Allerton shaded his eyes with one hand against the glare of the setting sun.

“Maybe in an hour, which is what it’ll take her to pack all this crap up again. It took me two to pack it in the first place,” Murphy commented and I almost threw my passport at him but managed to restrain myself.

Allerton peeked into the trunk of the car and seemed fascinated with the open suitcase full of shoes.

“Oh my,” he said much in the same way someone else might have said, “Holy shit.” Only he was a Councilor and Councilors did not say things like “Holy shit.”

“I’m going to need to build an addition on the back of my cottage for her shoe

collection,” Murphy--the big mouth--remarked. “I hope I can get the permits. The cottage is on the historical register and they are particular about adding onto the existing structure. Maybe a shed out in the back garden.”

“I’m not storing my shoes in a garden shed, Murphy,” I warned him. “Especially my

Louboutins.”

“You haven’t got any Louboutins,” he said.

“Yet.” I gave him a look and he gave me one back, and we both laughed.

Allerton regarded us fondly, like a father wolf watching his offspring pretending to be full-grown.

“You don’t suppose you might have time for a quick drink or a cup of tea before you leave? You don’t have a plane to catch, do you?”

Murphy grinned at me and I stuck my tongue out at him, because I faced away from the Councilor.

“No, I’d thought we’d spend the night in Paris. We’re in no rush, Councilor.”

“Excellent.” Allerton beamed. He shut the lid of the trunk and crunched his way across the gravel back to the chateau.

I stuffed my passport in my purse and followed him, the wind whipping my hair around my face. I looked like a ragamuffin, I was sure.

Murphy’s hair was tousled too, but he managed to pull it off much better than I did. His was shorter for one thing. Plus he wore clean clothes and looked altogether more respectable than me.

Allerton took us to a room on the ground floor. A dizzying array of priceless art was scattered about in a most contrived fashion. I was afraid to move lest I knock something fragile from the sixteenth century onto the floor and smash it to smithereens.

The sofa was stuffed with horse hair. I knew that, because Allerton told me. I think it was my expression of dismay when I sat and the cushions prickled my ass even through my jeans.

No wonder people from the olden days had such perfect postures. On furniture like this, you wanted as little of your actual body to touch it as possible. That meant sitting bolt upright, arms close to your sides...god forbid you use the armrest. That was for decorative purposes only.

We drank tea from paper-thin bone china cups with a faded pink rose pattern. I handled mine fatalistically, certain if I exerted just the slightest bit of pressure I would crush the handle.

But if I didn’t hold on tightly enough, the whole goddamn cup would slip through my fingers to crash on the floor and the tea would permanently stain the priceless Oriental rug I just knew wasn’t made for walking on with stiletto heels.

Allerton and Murphy both handled the furniture and their tea cups as if it were no big deal. Some days it does not pay to get out of bed, I swear.

I was so busy trying not to break, spill, stain or slump I must have missed Allerton’s opening lines in Act Three, scene two, but Murphy set his tea cup down onto its wafer-thin antique saucer, and said, “I noticed that too.”

They both looked at me so I could either agree or disagree, but since I’d missed the original statement I shrugged.

“Yeah, you’ve been a bit preoccupied, haven’t you,” said Murphy and that made me grit my teeth. “But it’s true, Councilor, attendance this year was way down from in previous years.”

“I think people are nervous. There’s a campaign of misinformation going on at best, I’m afraid. If you think you two are the only ones who have recent tragedies in your past, you are mistaken. There were at least a dozen people here this week who have lost their bond mates in similar situations. Accidents, but were they?” Allerton looked at us both and now I paid attention. I forgot about the paper-thin bone china and the way my stiletto heels left unfortunate dents in the Oriental rug. I even forgot about how itchy my ass was against that goddamn horsehair sofa cushion.

“You cleared me,” I whispered. “I didn’t cause the accident on purpose. I didn’t.”

All the blood seemed to rush from my head, leaving me feeling as if ice had been injected into the back of my neck through a particularly thick needle.

“No, Constance, you misunderstand,” Allerton said quickly. “I don’t think you did it. I think it was done to you. Somehow. That person you thought you saw in the road. Maybe he or she was there on purpose.”

“There was no person. It was a shadow.” I gulped. “Councilor, I’ve been over and over this. I think I wanted so much to have something to blame and maybe I...”

“Made it up?” Allerton finished for me. “Maybe you did. But maybe you didn’t,

Constance.”

“I took the corner too fast,” I confessed. Now my shoulders were as icy as my head, and soon I would be a block of frozen ice. “I didn’t know the car. It was a Mustang, it had way more power than any car I’d ever driven. I’d never even driven a new car before, let alone one as powerful as that one.”

I tried so hard not to think of that night, of going around the corner, the sudden

realization I’d lost control. I think I hit the gas in a panic. There were no skid marks on the road.

I think I’d hit the gas instead of the brake, because I was panicked when we went around the corner too fast and I felt the car go out from underneath me.

“And Rudi’s death was too inexplicable, too extraordinary to accept and yet I saw the test results myself. I watched his autopsy and I did not see anything.”

I stared at him, feeling myself growing progressively colder.

“I studied medicine, Constance,” Allerton said, misinterpreting my stare. “Until I became a Councilor, I was a general practitioner.”

“Murphy’s bond mate died in childbirth. How could that be an accident?” I blurted then winced, because I continually managed to say hurtful things

“She didn’t die in childbirth.” Murphy’s voice was flat, unexpressive. “She fell down the stairs at her lab. She was a chemist and she was working late and the lights failed, so she didn’t take the lift, she took the stairs and fell down. And they didn’t find her for hours.

“You think someone pushed her?” I had to put my tea cup down, because I started to

shake.

“Nothing so crude. There was a power failure and the lifts weren’t working. Apparently neither were the emergency lights in the stairwell,” Allerton began.

“It was an old building,” Murphy interrupted, his voice harsh.

“Stairwells are supposed to be kept clear, but someone left a box near the top of the stairs. The handrail snapped when she grabbed at it. Old building.” Murphy’s face twisted with an anger that was just as white-hot three years later as it had been that first night.

“Someone rigged the handrail, left the box on purpose?” I shook my head.

“It wasn’t even an issue at the time, but it keeps happening, Constance,” said Allerton.

“Why do you suppose I came to investigate your accident myself rather than sending my Advisor?”

“Because Jonathan said I did it on purpose.” I felt my own face contort with bitterness and betrayal. “He never liked me.”

“I won’t deny Jonathan petitioned the Councils, told them he thought you were

responsible. He tried to say you were drunk, Constance, not that you actually tried to kill your bond mates on purpose.”

“I wasn’t drunk.”

“You weren’t given a breathalyzer test until much later. There was enough time for your system to metabolize any alcohol that might have put you over the limit. But you never denied you’d been drinking.”

“Two glasses of champagne with a big huge piece of birthday cake,” I snapped. “I wasn’t drunk.” I bowed my head. “But maybe I was impaired. I must have been.”

“Constance, I don’t think you were drunk,” Allerton told me. “I came myself, because there have been too many of these strange accidents. I want you and Liam to get to the bottom of them. I’ll help you all I can, but I’m a Councilor and everything I do is public. If someone is arranging all of this, they’ll see me coming a mile away. But maybe not you two.”

“You making us Advisors? Giving us some power?” Murphy asked.

“You can’t be Advisors without a pack,” said Allerton and something flashed across

Murphy’s face. “I want this to be as unofficial as possible. You’ll have my cooperation. Behind the scenes. I’ll give you access to the reports I’ve gathered. I’ve made copies and put them in the trunk of your car. The suitcase beneath the one with all the shoes.” He gave me an amused smile and I smiled back, although I probably should have been a little offended.

“Liam, you’ve got money, you can afford to travel. You’re looking for a pack, right?”

“Right,” said Murphy. He and Allerton exchanged glances.

“Why does he need me?” I wondered. “Why couldn’t you have just done this without

me? What can I add?”

“I just said. Liam needs a pack. For you. But nobody’s going to want you, Constance.

You’re poison, aren’t you?” Allerton’s face was sympathetic.

“Rudi was not an accident. Are you using that, or did you cause it?” I got to my feet and I wished like hell I could leave, because I didn’t like what I heard and I didn’t want to be a part of anybody’s agenda, anybody who had anything to do with hurting Rudi.

“Constance.” Murphy’s voice was soft but compelling. “Sit down. Look at this man and tell me what you think. What does your gut tell you?”

I didn’t want to but I sat. “He’s not above using anything to advance his own agenda.

You told me that much, Murphy.”

“So I did. But do you think this man had Rudi killed just so you’d bond with me and provide me cover so I could investigate why a whole bunch of other Pack are dying in strange accidents? Do you think he’d do that?”

When Murphy said it, it sounded absurd.

“I don’t understand anything,” I muttered.

“I didn’t cause Rudi’s death, Constance,” Allerton said and Murphy sucked in his breath, because Allerton did not have to say that. That should have been implied. Also, I should have been in trouble for even daring to suggest such a thing. “I’m tired of all these deaths. Always young people of the Pack. Innocent, outstanding people in our Pack who should have lived to be grandmothers and grandfathers. Who should have been Alphas and mothers and fathers, and instead are bones and dust. Maybe I’m growing old. Maybe I’m seeing conspiracies where there is nothing but grim reality. Maybe I’m afraid of growing old and dying and I’m trying to keep death at bay. I don’t know, Constance, and because I don’t know, because maybe I’m seeing things where there is nothing to see, I am asking you and your bond mate to help me.”

“Maybe we’ll see things too. We lost people and I know I want to make somebody pay