He sat back down and pondered what could be going on. Was Sister Rosa somehow involved in the Andarta thing? Or was she just caught up in the whole mess by chance and actually had a totally different agenda? Right now, he was leaning toward the latter, but that was partly wishful thinking. He hated the idea she was involved.
They’d heard nothing from Jack. According to Carl, the police were still watching his house, so it was unlikely he’d go back there. And the girl was alive and recuperating. He only hoped Jack had made sure she wouldn’t remember anything.
One day in the not too dim and distant future, their kind was going to have to make itself known to humans. But not just yet.
He turned to Jonas. “The next one is interesting.”
“Really? In what way?”
“I don’t know, but I hope to find out. She has fae blood, but I’m certain she doesn’t know it. Just let me know if you pick anything up.”
“Will do. You have me intrigued now. Things have been a little slow around here lately.”
“Well, the good news is—that’s about to change.”
“It is? Oh, goody. Are you going to tell me how?”
“Isn’t that your job?”
Jonas opened his mouth to answer, just as the guard ushered Sister Rosa into the room. She stood inside the door, hands clasped in front of her, her eyes downcast. The room filled with her sweet scent. Beside him, he heard Jonas’s sharp indrawn breath. The warlock could sense it as well.
Piers pushed himself to his feet and strolled toward her, his body tightening as he drew near. Christ, she had a powerful effect on him.
Halting in front of her, he reached out and placed his hand under her chin, forcing her to gaze into his face. She resisted for a moment and then the tension drained from her, and she stared up at him. Her eyes were magnificent close up, a deep, dark brown, but flecked with gold, and fringed with the thickest, sootiest lashes he had ever seen. For a moment, he was the one mesmerized. He pushed the thought aside. The time for fun would be when he had confirmed that she wasn’t part of some conspiracy to break down the walls between worlds and enslave mankind for all time.
He grinned as he pushed his will into her mind. “Sister Rosa,” he murmured. “Tell me how long you’ve been with the Little Sisters of Mercy.”
She fluttered those thick lashes at him. “Six years.”
That was unexpected. So she was really a nun? Why was he surprised? A nun with unusual taste in underwear and a vibrator in her bedside cabinet.
“And where were you before? Sister Maria said you’d only been with them a couple of weeks.”
“I was at the mother house in Devon.”
“And why did you move?”
She was silent for a moment as though she was unwilling to answer. Was he going to hear something interesting at last?
“My faith was being tested. I believed the enclosed convent would bring me closer to God.”
Hmm. It sounded feasible, but he wasn’t buying it. But she couldn’t lie, not while he held her mind. Maybe someone had gotten to her. Maybe Jack at the convent or…
“Piers…”
Jonas said his name quietly from behind, and he glanced over his shoulder. Jonas gestured for him to come closer, and Piers moved to stand beside him. The warlock turned so his back was to Sister Rosa and spoke quietly. “You do know that she’s pretending, don’t you?”
Shock hit him in the gut. “Pretending?” That theory hadn’t occurred to him at all. “How the fuck can she be pretending?” He kept his voice low. But how could she be—it wasn’t possible. The only “person” he’d come across in more than a thousand years who could resist his compulsion was Tara. And she’d turned out to be half fae, half demon.
Jonas shrugged. “I have no idea, but she’s having you on, my friend.” He gazed past Piers for a moment. Piers followed the look. Sister Rosa was staring at them out of those big brown eyes, appearing the perfect picture of sweetness. Hell. Was she pretending? Had she been pretending the last couple of times? When she’d given up her sweet blood and come so easily in his arms?
“Why?”
He’d been speaking more to himself than to Jonas, but the warlock answered anyway.
“I have no clue as to the why. Now the how—that’s another matter.”
“So tell me how.” He wasn’t sure he was going to like the answer.
“I can sense a great power. It was obvious as soon as she walked in the room. But it’s off, hidden and unfocused…” He shook his head. “Almost as if she’s unaware herself.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know what she is either.”
“She knows enough to pretend to your compulsion. Which means someone must have warned her about you.”
Who? Was she part of some intricate plot? He couldn’t believe how much he hated that idea. But if she was, then how did she fit in? Who was she working with?
How far would she go to keep up the pretense?
He was about to find out.
Chapter Nine