Dragos Goes to Washington (A Story of the Elder Races)

Wordlessly, she pointed back down the hall to where the other three stood. As Dragos looked behind her, Niniane pointed into the closet. After a moment, both Tiago and Jered pointed too.

Pia said between her teeth, “I am really going to love living in our version of Greenland. I bet it’s peaceful there. The murder rate can’t be anything like D.C.’s.”

Dragos’s hand tightened on her before it fell away. He strode forward to join the others and looked in the closet.

Niniane said to Tiago, “Once upon a time, I would have been so much more shaken than I am right now. I thought we were going to get a break from this kind of shit on this trip.”

“You know, as your chief of security, I have to advise you that we leave right now,” Tiago told her.

“We can’t leave!” Niniane exclaimed. “That would make us look like we have something to hide.”

“I don’t give a damn what it looks like, your argumentativeness.” Tiago crossed his arms. “Someone has been killed. It’s a safety recommendation.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Duly noted.”

Dragos’s gaze met Pia’s. His expression looked calm but she knew from his incandescent, molten gaze that he was furious.

Suddenly the distance between them seemed too great. She hurried toward him, and when she reached his side, he put his arm around her.

He asked, Why are your shoes in the closet?

She shivered. We had an extra place setting, and I was looking for somewhere to stow it when I stepped inside and-and found him. I didn’t want to track b-blood everywhere, or contaminate the scene any more than I already had, so I stepped out of them.

He rubbed her back. “Okay. Now, I want you to go into the security room in the basement and stay there. Will you do that for me, please?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“That’s a good idea,” Tiago said to Niniane. “You could go too.”

Dragos glared at her. “Pia. The vice president’s husband was murdered in our house.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Like I don’t know that already! I am not going downstairs, so put a guard on me if you have to, but I’m staying up here to help.”

Jered snapped, “Enough of this squabbling over who is going to run away. You need to catch the murderer immediately, before all our diplomatic chances are ruined.”

Dragos rounded on the Djinn. “I need to catch the murderer? This has nothing to do with the Wyr.”

The Djinn gave him an incredulous look. “You must be joking. The human male’s throat was slashed just as a Wyr might do. And as you said, it happened in your house. This is your responsibility. You’re involved whether you like it or not. And others will blame you—again, whether you like it or not. Hell, I don’t even know who did it, and I blame you.”

A hot burst of anger fired through Pia’s veins. She snapped, “That’s completely unfair! None of our people would do such a thing!”

The Djinn glanced at her. “Fairness has nothing to do with it. Appearances are everything.” He turned back to Dragos. “You need to either find the murderer quickly, or you need to hide it. If you want someone to get rid of the body, I can do it.”

“Bullshit,” muttered Niniane. “He’s the vice president’s husband, Jered. You can’t just whisk away the body!”

“This is a stupid conversation,” Tiago said.

Jered rounded on him. “I see that you haven’t come up with anything useful.”

“That’s enough,” Dragos hissed. As they all fell silent, he said to the others, “Leave. Go back to the others and mingle.” As they hesitated, he said between his teeth, “You’re wasting valuable time.”

Niniane touched Pia’s hand and said in her head, I don’t care how much Dragos snarls or tries to order everybody around. If you need me, call and I’ll come.

Thank you. Pia grasped her fingers briefly.

Even still, Niniane lingered until Tiago pulled her away. He told her, “Let’s go. And you do not leave my side for anything, faerie. I mean you do not step two feet away from me.”

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