Then she set the place setting gently, oh so gently on the narrow secretary desk.
Mr. Colton still looked surprised. She wasn’t sure her legs were going to support her for much longer. The buzzing in her ears grew louder.
Dragos, she said telepathically.
Yes? Where are you? His mental voice sounded far away. I thought you were outside with us.
I was, she said. But now . . .
How exactly does one break the news to her husband that she’s standing in a closet with the dead body of one of their dinner guests?
Something’s come up, she told him. You’d better come inside.
Chapter Eight
I’m in the middle of something. He sounded impatient. Is the house on fire?
She considered that. Metaphorically, in a way, it was, with one of those sneaky house fires that smoldered in a tucked away corner but would blow their lives apart in, say, the next half hour or so.
The world wobbled, and she grabbed at the back of the chair that was tucked tight against the desk. She could feel Mr. Colton’s blood beginning to soak into her shoes.
She didn’t want to contaminate the scene any more than she already had. Swallowing hard, she eased one foot out of a shoe and stepped backward, out of the closet. As soon as she felt balanced enough on her bare foot, she stepped out of the other shoe.
Pia?
Yes, she told him. The house is actually on fire. In a manner of speaking.
Even as she said it, she heard voices as people approached.
“ . . . you are asking the wrong person to explain human behavior, Jered,” Niniane said. “Out of all of us, Pia’s the best to ask—she’s the one who lived as a human for so many years. I’m sure I saw her come this way a few minutes ago . . .”
Oh gods. Conflicting impulses careened inside.
What should she do?
Jump in the closet and hide until they passed? No!
Where are you? Dragos asked. His voice had changed. No longer impatient, he sounded sharp and totally engaged.
Just as Niniane, Jered and Tiago rounded the corner, she slammed the closet door and rushed toward them.
“Hi, sweetie,” Niniane said. Her gaze fell to Pia’s feet, and her eyebrows went up. “Where are your shoes?”
With the dead man in the closet.
“I h-had an accident.” Pia pressed shaking hands against her stomach.
Jered, a tall, blond male Djinn with diamondlike eyes, demanded, “Can you explain why we are all here to talk when some of those humans won’t engage in conversation?”
PIA, Dragos thundered in her head, making her jump.
She snapped at him shakily, Don’t yell at me like that!
Tiago said suddenly, “I smell blood.”
Well, of course he did. He had, if anything, a more refined sense of smell for such things than Pia did.
“Blood?!” Niniane exclaimed.
It was pointless to try to assert control over something so outrageous, but Pia tried anyway. She said, “Yes, well, there is a problem. I mean, I found a p-problem. I don’t suppose I could convince any of you to go back outside and keep everyone busy while Dragos and I deal with it?”
Niniane grabbed her by the arms. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s not her blood,” Tiago said.
Pia had tried to position herself in the middle of the hallway to act as a barrier, but he shouldered past her. So much for her attempt to gain a little time.
Closing her eyes, she listened as the closet door opened.
After a moment, Tiago said, “It’s his blood.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Niniane’s grip fell from Pia’s arms.
She turned to watch as Niniane and Jered swept past her. Tiago took a step to one side, and all three of them stared into the closet.
Dragos rounded the corner, wearing a fierce frown. “Why didn’t you answer me?” he demanded, dropping a hand onto her shoulder. “Where’s the damn fire that won’t wait?”