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  He leaned in closer to me and lowered his voice. “You found his body? Did the killer… bring it back?”

  “No, I found the husband. Standing in his kitchen and making a snack…”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Neither did I. I still don’t. Not really.”

  “But he wasn’t dead, obviously. What did he have to say?”

  “Pretty much nothing that lined up with what his wife had said to me. He said they had been in the hotel, just like she told me, but nothing else she said was true, apparently. She said she saw him being killed when she got out of the shower, but he said he hadn’t even been there when she got out. He said that she had decided to stay in the room alone after he’d been called away for something work-related…”

  “I’ve heard of something like this before,” Nic said. “It’s kind of like those people who go to the doctor over and over, pretending to be sick when there’s nothing wrong with them. Nothing wrong with them physically, at least. What do you call it? Millhouse syndrome, I think.”

  “Munchausen syndrome,” I replied. “Millhouse is the nerdy kid from The Simpsons.”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “So, you think she was lying, then?” I noticed all of the ice in my drink had already melted, and I had barely touched it.

  “The wife? Of course she was lying.”

  “How can you be so sure?” He started to say something else but noticed a few people were waiting for drinks. “Hold that thought for just a sec.”

  He was back inside of thirty seconds.

  “So, where was I? Oh, yeah, the lying wife thing.”

  I waited for what I knew was coming.

  “She was lying because her husband wasn’t murdered… Doesn’t that have to be the case? I mean, sure, maybe she could have had a mental break or something, but it all boils down to the same thing. She said she watched him being murdered, and that didn’t happen. The chap’s up grillin’ paninis. So… not dead.”

  Yep, that was the rational conclusion. The only conclusion. She had, after all, bamboozled me once already. Any sane person would see that’s how she got her kicks.

  Nic grinned and shook his head. “You don’t think she’s lying?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t like to be manipulated or lied to, and by all evidence, that’s exactly what Maggie had been doing to me. But her story had seemed so genuine, and what would the point of all of this have been? Just to have a chuckle when I came up with her not-dead husband? I could understand the cheating husband fantasy stuff that she had roped me into. As odd as that had been, it really wasn’t any weirder than something I might overhear at Francie’s on any given evening.

  But this… this kind of a wild goose chase didn’t make a lick of sense. Plus, those bruises on her chest had looked real. Would she have gone to such lengths just to convince me?

  “What’d she say when you told her?’

  “Who?”

  Nic shook his head. “You’re a million miles away. Your client, what’d she say when you told her that her murdered husband had pulled an Easter miracle?”

  “I haven’t told her yet.”

  “Smart, smart.” Nic nodded, considering. “You know what you ought to do? Call her up and tell her you have reason to believe that she murdered her hubby. Tell her that you’ve already consulted the police—”

  “What? Why would I do that?”

  “It would serve her right, wouldn’t it? She’s trying to pull one over on our intrepid private investigator. You dish it right back to her. Put a real scare into her.”

  “The only reason I haven’t told her yet,” I explained, “is because I haven’t been able to reach her at the number she gave me. She’s at her sister’s in Boston. I left a message, and I’m sure she’ll call any time. And when she does, I’ll tell her what I found. Of course, she’ll probably have already talked with her husband by then.”

  Nic made a disapproving clucking sound with his tongue. “I think you should play it my way. You let one person walk on you like that, and pretty soon everyone’s doing it.”

  “I appreciate the advice, Nic. But I think it only works that way on the playground.”

  “Nah, that’s how it works out in the real world, too. Out in the jungle. You can trust me on that.”

  “The jungle?” I laughed. “Exactly what jungle have you been surviving in, pretty boy?”

  His delicate features screwed up in an intense glower. Then quickly broke back into a wide grin. “Alright, you got me. But I was in an improv glass last year that was absolutely harrowing.”

  I laughed again. Nic was right. It did help to talk to him. If for nothing else but to cut through some of the anxiety I had been feeling since I left Mark at his apartment earlier that day.

  I looked at my mostly untouched glass of water and considered switching to my usual. Maggie still hadn’t called, so it seemed unlikely I would be needed in any official capacity that night.

  With the words for my order on my tongue, I caught sight of Nic beaming off into the distance over my left shoulder. “What is it?”

  “Big, black, and beautiful,” he said, not breaking his stare. “And he’s staring daggers into your back…”

  I turned and followed his gaze. It wasn’t hard to spot the giant, leather-clad Luka lumbering in my direction.

  Chapter 7

  “Why are you giving me the stern, silent treatment?” I asked as Luka ushered me into my office. “You’re starting to make me feel like I’m in trouble…”

  If I were in any serious trouble, Luka would be the last one I’d want to dole out the punishment. He was a Primal, which meant enhanced strength, speed, and who knows what else. But even if he hadn’t been a Gifted, he would still have been a six-and-a-half-foot tower of muscle that could likely choke the life out of a person with a sufficiently aggressive scowl.

  “Is there a reason you should be in trouble?” His voice was a low rumble, but that’s how it always was, so I couldn’t read much from it.

  “Not unless you’re talking about crimes from the ten or so years before I met you… And, if you are, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I absolutely did not steal any of that stuff I took.”

  Luka’s expression stayed completely impassive.

  “Okay, tough crowd. How about we come at this from another angle? Why don’t you tell me what you think I did wrong, and I’ll tell you exactly how wrong you are, okay?”

  He grunted. “The Bessons.”

  “Sure, Maggie and Mark. What about them?”

  “So, you admit to having been covertly meddling in a potentially Source-related matter without the permission of the Congregation?”

  “Wow, this must be serious because that’s more syllables than I’ve ever heard you use… like, ever.” I didn’t know Luka well, but he had seemed likable enough from the few interactions we’d had. But what I didn’t care for, at all, was this disappointed schoolmarm act.

  “Answer the question.”

  “Which question? The ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything? I believe the answer you’re looking for is forty-two.”

  Luka stared down at me, doing his darnedest to intensify his glower, but I wasn’t fooled. It had only been a twitch, just a half-second’s worth of a tilt at the edge of his dark, weighty lips. But it was enough to dispel the intimidating authority figure persona he was trying to put on. It was an act, and I could see right through it.

  “Sit down,” I said pointing to a small chair and hopping up on the edge of my desk. The chair looked like it might turn into a pile of kindling under his considerable bulk, but I was willing to take the risk if he was.

  Luka hesitated for a moment, then lowered himself into the chair with a sigh.

  “They sent you here to put the fear of God into me, didn’t they?” The ambiguous they in question were the members of the Congregation, and they might as well have been the Illuminati for all I knew about them.

  Luka sh
rugged his mountainous shoulders, causing the chair beneath him to groan in protest. “Doesn’t look like I did a very good job.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I said. “I don’t think your heart was in it.”

  He grunted. “Somebody above my paygrade wants you to stop poking around. Maybe you should.”

  “They want me to stop poking around with the Bessons, or they want me to stop poking around altogether?”

  Luka shrugged again. “Probably just with the Bessons. The Congregation likes to assign agents to the cases they believe are best suited to their skillsets.”

  I bent my head down until I could force him to meet my gaze. He had delivered that little bit of corporate boilerplate with his eyes locked firmly on the area just above my navel. Luka may have been a lot of things, but a passable liar he was not.

  “My God, man, do you play poker?”

  “I am good at poker,” he replied, sounding slightly confused.

  “No… no, you’re not. But I bet all your friends tell you that you are and invite you to all the high-stakes games. You’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”

  He held my gaze for a full three seconds before glancing down again. “Deception of any kind is dishonorable,” he grumbled.

  “It sure is, big guy. So, what gives? I thought the Congregation wanted me to work cases for them. You told me they thought my gifts could be useful. So, why haven’t they thrown any work my way, and why are they now actively trying to discourage me from being involved?”

  Luka stood from his chair and paced across the room. Given the length of his legs and the smallness of the room, it was more like spinning in place than actual pacing.

  “I thought you would be of use,” he said after a few moments of the abbreviated pacing. “You did an excellent job with Maeve and that whole mess.”

  “Thank you, and I agree. So…”

  “So… I don’t think the Congregation had any intentions of employing you like they did Anders. They—”

  “They want to pay me to stay out of trouble. Maybe keep an eye on me and let me play at being a big-girl PI with the Norms. As far as they’re concerned, it’s one Necromancer off the streets and in their pocket, right?” It wasn’t anything I hadn’t already begun to suspect. Luka’s presence was just a direct confirmation of those suspicions.

  “What you say is… not wrong.” Luka met my eyes. “But it was not my intention that it be so. You must understand, I am employed much the same as you are. I have no real authority beyond that allowed by the Congregation. I—”

  I waved a hand, dismissing his apology, and stood from the desk. “My beef isn’t with you, Luka. I know your intentions were honorable. If they weren’t, you probably wouldn’t ever be able to look me in the eye again. “Come on, let’s hash this thing out at my real desk.”

  I led the way back out to the bar, and we took a pair of stools at one end. It was getting later, and the place was starting to fill up a little more. The burble of white-noise conversation filled me with calm and took some of the edge off the irritation I was feeling because of the Congregation’s antics.

  Almost before our butts had touched down on our well-worn stools, Nic popped over and pushed a drink across the bar to Luka. What made it amusing was that it was the same drink he was about to hand off to the now annoyed-looking dude a few stools down.

  “Here you are, sir,” Nic said in a hyper-professional tone. “It’s a Francie’s specialty with a little twist of my own. I do hope you enjoy it.”

  Luka nodded his thanks and engulfed the small glass in one of his giant hands.

  “I’ll have my usual,” I said. My words bounced off the side of Nic’s head as he continued to stare expectantly in Luka’s direction.

  The big man glanced down at his drink and then over to me.

  I shrugged.

  Luka took a swig of the amber-colored cocktail, then nodded again. “Good.”

  Nic smiled. “Excellent.”

  “Uh, Nic—” I started.

  “Yes, yes,” he huffed. “One no-imagination-on-ice, coming right up.”

  “Hey…”

  My words were again lost on him as he turned to fix my drink.

  “What was that about?” Luka said. He took another drink from his glass, then began to slowly roll it between his palms.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he thinks you’re the district’s alcohol inspector. What did he give you?”

  Luka sniffed at the glass. “There’s some bourbon in there, but I’m not sure about the rest. It is good, though.”

  While I waited for my supposedly boring drink, I studied Luka as he enjoyed his. I may not have known him well, but I was starting to pick up on his mannerisms and tells all the same. He was an open person. I would have been able to see that even if he hadn’t told me how much he hated lying. And there was a lot to read from him in just where he chose to look in the room.

  And where he chose not to look.

  I didn’t think he was still hiding something from me, at least not the way he was when he first arrived. But there was a deception he was struggling with, and if his front-and-center gaze was any indication, it still revolved around me.

  I decided to fish.

  “You’re not here for the Congregation.” I said the words casually, but there was no mistaking the statement for a question.

  Luka’s hand froze with his glass midway to his mouth. He returned it to the bar untouched, opting to roll it in his hands again.

  It was a good thing he was on what he considered the just side of the system because he would have made a lousy criminal. One interrogation and the cops would know every wrong the man had ever done.

  “You know why the Congregation sent me.”

  It was a good try.

  “I do, and I’m not questioning their intentions. I am questioning yours. They sent you to discourage me, or whatever you want to call it, but you have to admit you did a pretty poor job of it. Honor or no honor, you dropped the act without much of a struggle, which tells me maybe you have your own agenda.”

  Luka shifted on his barstool. It was a much sturdier piece of furniture than the ratty old chair in my office, but it still creaked worryingly under the load.

  “I think you are cut out for this kind of work.”

  “Which part?” I asked. “The stuff that’s happening with the Bessons, or reading people?”

  “Both.”

  “So, what, you’re actually here to encourage me to stick with it? I shouldn’t just put my feet up on the bar and wait for my mysterious paycheck to arrive every couple of weeks? I can be pretty good at drinking and being lazy, you know.”

  As if on cue, Nic arrived with my drink.

  “Is this one free like his?” I asked before Nic could scamper away.

  “Would it matter? Do you ever pay your tab?”

  “Touché.”

  I turned back to Luka. “Now, where were we?”

  He gave a deep sigh. “Things used to be so much simpler when I started working for the Congregation. Honestly, I doubt that was because things were any different. I simply didn’t know as much about what was happening. Now, everything is connected, and the world is a smaller place. Everyone has a covert sound and video recording device in their pockets at all times, so private information is almost nonexistent. Somebody knows.”

  “Uh, okay, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about now, Luka. Is this even still about me? Also, how long have you been working for the Congregation?” He had a face that made it hard to gauge his age, but I couldn’t imagine he could be much older than late twenties or early thirties. Which meant it was doubtful he could have started working for the Congregation before cellphones were ubiquitous.

  He finished off his drink in one long pull, then placed the glass delicately on the bar. “We Primals age more slowly than most. And perhaps that is what this is, just a matter of me acting like an old fool.”

  I was curious about just how slowly he aged, bu
t I thought it might be rude to ask. “Why don’t you get out, then?” I asked instead. “Sounds like it’s getting to be more of a hassle than it’s worth.”

  Luka shrugged. “It is what I know. And, at its simplest, it is what I like to do. The Congregation points me at something wrong.” He squeezed both of his hands into boulder-like fists. “And I fix it.”

  “What are you trying to fix now?”

  “I don’t know. Not really.”

  Maybe it was just that I now knew he was older than he looked, but the soulful depth in his dark eyes seemed positively ancient. It was like staring into an abyss.

  “But I don’t think the Congregation wants you off of this case for the stated reasons,” he continued. “It’s more than that. For one thing, you’re not the only person they’re trying to keep away from the Bessons. Typically, as soon as something like that comes in from the police, they put someone on it within the day.”

  “But not this time…”

  “Not this time,” Luka agreed. “From what I hear, it was immediately dismissed as Norms being Norms.”

  “Well, I hate to play devil’s advocate, but they may have something with that.” I explained about my discovery of Mr. Besson back at his home, fully intact and not eaten by a mysterious creature.

  “It does sound like the typical Norm exaggeration,” Luka said when I had finished. “Most of the time these things turn out to be just that. But that does not explain why no one was sent to check on the matter. Due diligence is always done.”

  “You think someone within the Congregation is involved?”

  “The possibility crossed my mind,” Luka said.

  “Alright, I’ll keep poking.” It wasn’t like I was going to stop in the first place, so it didn’t put me out any.

  “You will?”

  “Sure. You know, you could have saved us both some time and just asked me to do it…”

  “When I got here, I wasn’t sure what I wanted you to do. I am still a little unsure. This situation is nearly guaranteed to be dangerous, and I do not like asking you to take on that risk. But my involvement would not go unnoticed, and you…”