fear at one of her little shows. If you did, she'd often make you join in on the fun. Her shows ran more to sex and torture than true death, and suffocation wasn't one of Andais's kinks, so this little disaster wouldn't have pleased her. She'd probably see it as a waste. So many people who could have admired her, so many people she could have terrorized.
I pretended that my life depended on keeping a blank face and feeling nothing. It was the only way I knew to walk among the bodies and not have hysterics. My life depended on not going into hysterics. I repeated it in my head like a mantra -- my life depends on not having hysterics; my life depends on not having hysterics -- and it kept me moving down the rows, kept me able to look down at all this horror and not scream.
The bodies that weren't covered all had lips almost the same shade of blue as the girl on the beach, except this obviously wasn't lipstick. They'd all suffocated, but not instantly. They hadn't dropped magically and mercifully in their tracks. There were nail marks on some of the bodies where they'd clawed at their throats, their chests, as if trying to get air into lungs that no longer worked.
Nine bodies seemed different from the others. I couldn't figure out what it was, but I kept pacing in front of the nine, scattered in a row among the others. Frost had paced beside me at first, but he was back at the edge of the floor, trying to stay out of the way of the hurrying uniforms, plainclothes, paramedics, and all the extra people who seem to accumulate at any murder scene. I remembered being surprised the first time I saw how very many people tracked through a murder scene.
Behind Frost was something covered with a tablecloth but it wasn't a body. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was a Christmas tree. Someone had covered the artificial greenery, covered the entire Christmas display. It was as if someone hadn't wanted the tree to see the bodies, like hiding the eyes of the innocent so they won't be tarnished. It should have seemed ridiculous, but it didn't. Somehow, it seemed appropriate to cover the decorations in this room. To hide them away so they wouldn't be spoiled.
Frost seemed unaware of the covered tree, or much of anything else. Rhys, on the other hand, seemed aware of everything.
He stayed right at my side. He wasn't humming or even smiling now. He'd been subdued since we walked in on the carnage. Though carnage seemed the wrong word for it. Carnage seemed to imply blood and flesh ripped and torn. This was strangely clean, almost impersonal. No, not impersonal -- cold. I'd seen people who enjoyed slaughter, and they literally enjoyed the act of cutting someone up, the feel of the blade in flesh. There was no savage joy in this scene. It was just death, cold death, as if the Grim Reaper had been brought to life to ride through this place.
"What is it about these nine that's different?" I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud until Rhys answered me.
"They went quietly, no nail marks, no signs of struggle. These, and only these nine, just... dropped where they were dancing."
"What in Goddess's name happened here, Rhys?"
"What the fuck are you doing here, Princess Meredith?" We both turned to the far side of the room. The man stalking toward us through the bodies was medium build, balding, obviously muscular, and even more obviously pissed.
"Lieutenant Peterson, isn't it?" I said. The first and last time I'd met Peterson I'd been trying to convince the police to investigate the possibility that a fey aphrodisiac had gotten out into the human population. They'd informed me that aphrodisiacs didn't work, and neither did love spells. I'd proven that it did work, and nearly caused a riot in the Los Angeles Police Department. The lieutenant had been one of the men I'd use to prove my point. They'd had to handcuff him before they could drag him off me.
"Don't be pleasant, Princess. What the fuck are you doing here?"
I smiled. "It's lovely to see you, too, Lieutenant."
He didn't smile. "Get out, now, before I have you thrown out."
Rhys moved an inch closer to my side. Peterson's eyes flicked to him, then back to me. "I see your two gorillas. If they try anything, diplomatic immunity or no diplomatic