This Side of the Grave (Page 64)

Bones tugged again and I let the urn slip from my hands into his, blinking back the tears from the relinquishment that was more symbolic than the transferring of an item. He leaned down, brushing his lips across my forehead, and then disappeared up the stairs. Maybe it was a good thing that Bones was putting Don’s remains away instead of me. With my current emotional state, I’d probably think the only safe place for his ashes was tucked inside my clothes next to the garlic and weed.

I rubbed my hands together, bleakly noting how empty they felt without the surrogate for my uncle that I’d clutched the past several hours. Then I rolled up the sleeves of my memorial-appropriate black blouse. I might not have control over much else in my life, but I could get the goddamn dust off the furniture, for starters.

My ferocious scrubbing of the house in an effort to distract myself from grieving over Don turned out to be beneficial in more ways than one. Mencheres called, saying he was on his way over because he had important information to relay. From the way Bones said he sounded, it wasn’t wonderful important information, like Apollyon being found dead with a "Happy early birthday, Cat!" note pinned to his corpse. Frankly I didn’t think I was up for any more bad news, but since life had no pause button that I knew of, I was about to be dealing with Mencheres’s news, up for it or not.

At least the house was sparkling and the musty scent was gone from the air. Of course, that could also be from the new plants Bones went out to procure while I was doing my imitation of Martha Stewart. Now I was the dubious owner of several fragrant garlic bulbs and a few fluffy pot plants. I didn’t even want to ask where Bones had gotten the latter from. Sniffed it out and dug it up from a local illegal field? Or bought it from a friendly neighborhood drug dealer?

God, I couldn’t wait until the effect from Marie’s blood was out of my system. If I never smelled garlic or weed again, it would be too soon. The only upside of our new decor was that it meant I could take the packets off, and not having dozens of little porous baggies under my clothes was a welcome relief.

"They’re here, Kitten," Bones called out from downstairs.

I didn’t hear anything yet, but I knew his connection to Mencheres was unusually acute because of their shared power, so I took him at his word. I wouldn’t have time to put on makeup, but I didn’t think anyone would notice. Or care. I was showered, in clean clothes, and my home was neat. Those were the three most important things when having visitors over.

Unless those visitors were hungry, of course.

"We don’t have any blood," I said to Bones as I came down the stairs.

His gaze swept over me, pausing at certain points with appreciation. My dress was hardly sexy, being a plain black cotton number that hung to my feet and had three-quarter sleeves, but either it hugged the right places or Bones was showing the effects of a week of celibacy. To say I hadn’t been in the mood since Don died was to put it mildly.

"I rather doubt they’d expect us to," he replied. "They know we just arrived." Right. Plus, this wasn’t a social call. "He’s probably coming over to tell me we need to put Plan Dave into action," I muttered. "We were supposed to think up another way to swipe a few of Apollyon’s higher-ups without having Dave reveal that he was a plant, but that got pushed by the wayside."

Bones raised a brow in a way that said, Perhaps. He’d heard about that. Dave told Bones shortly after Don died, fueled by grief into wanting even more to strike a blow against Apollyon, but Bones talked him out of it. Still, I knew he thought the idea had merit.

I was even more opposed to it now than before, though. I’d just lost my uncle. I didn’t want to lose a good friend next, and Dave was reeling from Don’s death like the rest of us, which made him sloppier. That was the cold hard truth. I wondered if my uncle had any idea the profound effect he’d had on the people around him. Knowing Don, I doubted it. He wasn’t much for grandstanding.

A car came up the winding driveway in the next few minutes, the sound almost loud compared to the relative quietness of the woods around us. The seclusion of having a cabin on fifteen acres of mountaintop property was what had drawn us to this place to begin with. Now that I could read minds, I appreciated the lack of close neighbors even more.

"Grandsire, Kira, welcome," Bones said once they were at the door.

I noted the elegant leather satchel Mencheres carried with a mental sigh. Of course they’d spend the night. He was coming all the way out here to deliver information; it would be beyond rude for us to hear him out, and then send them on their way. Plus, he probably wanted to strategize, and I couldn’t blame him for that, either. No matter what upheaval might be going on in my personal life, there was still a war we had to prevent.

"Hi, guys," I said, giving both of them a hug to make up for my initial, selfish wish that they weren’t staying.

"I’m so sorry about your uncle," Kira whispered, patting me when I let her go. "If there’s anything we can do . . ."

"Thanks," I said, forcing a smile. "The flowers you sent were beautiful." All the arrangements had been, but I’d had them sent to a local hospital after the memorial. None of the burly team members were keen on the idea of taking them home, and I didn’t have room for the dozens of floral sprays, bouquets, and wreaths.

"It was the least we could do," Mencheres replied with his usual reserved courtesy. "I regret to impose on you at this time of sorrow. However – "

"It’s fine," I interrupted with another mechanical smile. "I know the bad guys don’t call a time-out just because someone dies. I appreciate you handling things for the past few days, but it’s time for Bones and me to get back in the mix."

I gestured for them to sit down, doing the polite hostess thing by asking if I could get them anything to drink. As Bones predicted, neither of them asked for an authentic version of a Bloody Mary, but just took water instead. That, at least, I had plenty of.

Mencheres waited until I was seated to dive into why they’d come. "I have found out what happened to Nadia Bissel," he stated.

I just stared at him blankly. "Who?"

Bones also cocked his head in puzzlement. Glad I wasn’t the only one who felt lost.

"The human female you were seeking," Mencheres amended. At my continued confused look, he sighed. "The one who worked with the reporter you are friends with and who disappeared while investigating rumors of vampires?"

"Oh!" I said, the light bulb finally going off in my memory. I’d forgotten all about sending Nadia’s picture and information to Mencheres so he could circulate it among his allies, looking for a clue as to what happened to her.