Page 20 of Fortune's Ashes
I registered the last name. ‘A werewolf?’
‘Yes. Sadly, he was murdered around the same time that Quincy disappeared, together with another vampire.’
Kale had to be talking about the case that Liza had mentioned. Interesting. I sat a little bit straighter. ‘They were friends? Simon Carr and Quincy Carmichael?’
‘As far as I knew. I saw them together a few times. Quincy said it was a business thing, but I kind of assumed there was more to it. They seemed more like friends than business partners.’
‘Did you mention this at the time? Did it come up in the investigation into the murders?’
Kale eyed me shrewdly. ‘Where Simon Carr’s death was concerned, everything came up. Those murders caused a lot of problems.’
‘So I’ve been hearing,’ I murmured.
* * *
I askedBirch Kale several more questions but nothing of note emerged. He remained helpful and friendly throughout and, when we were done, he walked me out to reception before shaking my hand.
I smiled at the anxious receptionist, who had sprayed herself liberally with some very potent perfume no doubt to disguise the smell of weed, and reached for the door. As I did so, the flickering television caught my eye.
‘Fucking hell,’ I muttered under my breath.
I gazed at the image of Phileas Carmichael standing next to a large man in a cheap grey suit. Both of them were behind a podium in a room that I immediately recognised as one the larger meeting rooms at the DeVane Hotel. No doubt the large man was Alan Cobain – and this was his damned press conference. It must have been a slow news day, and that was why it was being televised.
I ought to have strode out of the building and ignored it but sometimes I’m my own worst enemy. I asked the receptionist to turn up the volume. She picked up the remote control, eager to do anything that would keep my attention away from her.
Phileas Carmichael’s voice boomed from the television screen. ‘My client,’ he intoned, ‘is the phoenix. He has provided video footage to attest to that fact and will demonstrate his abilities if anyone doubts him. That is why we have serious concerns about the Metropolitan Police detective who also claims she is the phoenix. She is in a position of power and authority and is abusing that position by taking Alan’s identity away from him.’
One of the off-screen journalists shouted a question. ‘Are you saying that this detective is lying about who she is?’
‘That is not for me to say at this point,’ Carmichael replied. ‘It may be the case that there is now more than one phoenix in the world, but it may also be the case that the detective in question somehow took a portion of my client’s powers away from him. This possibility is causing him considerable distress. We must remember that nobody is above the law, no matter what their position is. This matter must be investigated further, not only for Alan Cobain’s sake but for the public at large.’
I curled my hands into fists. The most frustrating thing was that Phileas Carmichael was right on many counts, especially when it came to my role in the police. I was well aware that many police officers abused their positions in horrifying ways. Nobody should be allowed to act like that, and all complaints had to be thoroughly and immediately investigated and acted upon. It was the only way the police could operate.
Besides, whether I was the phoenix or not, I couldn’t claim to be the authority on the matter. I didn’t know everything. What if my transformation into the phoenix as a baby had indeed taken power from Alan Cobain? It wouldn’t be anyone’s fault if that had happened. My parents’ druid friend, Miranda, had called upon the power without thought or control when she’d found the three of us dead in our home. Maybe her actionshadaffected Alan Cobain. I couldn’t say for sure either way – but if it were true, I didn’t know what to do about it. I couldn’t give the power back; it definitely didn’t work that way.
On the screen, Cobain raised his hand to indicate that he wished to speak. He looked anxious as he cleared his throat. ‘I’m not trying to cause anyone any trouble,’ he said in a quiet voice that belied his height. ‘I just feel as if a part of myself and my identity has been ripped away and my integrity has been called into question. It’s costing me my health and my standing in the community. All I want to do is sit down with the detective so we can talk about this and find out what’s really going on. I want to get my life back,’ he said sadly. ‘I wish she’d let me speak to her.’
My eyes narrowed. He was implying that I’d refused to meet him. I’d spoken to his own damned lawyer an hour or two ago, for goodness’ sake. Phileas Carmichael had wanted me to stay away from Cobain, not have a chitchat.
Someone called out another question. ‘If you’re really the phoenix, show us now. Die now. We’ll act as your witnesses. Let’s see whether you’re really re-born or not.’
Phileas Carmichael glared at him. ‘It’s no surprise that a vampire would challenge my client. The detective who is claiming to be the phoenix is in a serious relationship with Lord Lukas Horvath, the vampires’ leader. This only proves what a mountain of problems Mr Cobain faces in trying to prove his identity. Not only are the police against him but the entire supernatural community is, too.’
For fuck’s sake.
A whispered question floated towards me. ‘Is that you?’ the nervy receptionist asked. ‘Are they talking about you? You’re the phoenix, right? Your boyfriend is Lord Horvath?’
I glanced over my shoulder at her. Her eyes carried a definite glint of morbid fascination at the scene unfolding in front of her. My back stiffened. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment,’ I said, realising how ridiculous and uptight I sounded.
I clenched my teeth and quickly left the building.
ChapterEight
‘You had better not be calling me to postpone our meeting this evening, D’Artagnan.’ Lukas’s voice was silky smooth but I could still hear the throb of desperate pain underlying every word.
‘That’s not why I’m phoning and you know it, Lukas,’ I said as I opened Tallulah’s door and threw myself into the driver’s seat.
He didn’t miss a beat. ‘You saw the press conference, then.’
