Living with the Dead - By Kelley Armstrong Page 0,87

lover? Knowing you could spy on them?”

Robyn couldn’t hold Hope’s gaze. Yes, she had a point. But Robyn wasn’t asking her to tell the world. Just her.

Damn it, Hope, she thought, I’m your friend.

“Yes,” Hope said softly. “You are my friend.”

Robyn looked up sharply. Had she spoken aloud? She looked into Hope’s eyes, and knew she hadn’t. And she shivered. God, she didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help it.

“Is that something you’d want to announce to your friends?” Hope said. “Is that something you really wanted to know about me?”

Robyn opened her mouth, but couldn’t form words.

“I didn’t think so.”

ROBYN QUICKLY REALIZED how foolish she’d sounded saying “tell me everything.” Hope gave her only what she needed to know, with no mention of werewolves or demons or witches, keeping it all in the simplest terms possible. But even so, before long Robyn was totally lost.

Apparently the guy in the photo was an executive with a corporation . . . a corporation that employed people like Adele and Karl and Hope, and was known in their circles as the supernatural corporate Mafia. As for what that meant, how such a company operated, why no one ever noticed? Robyn didn’t ask. The concept of a “supernatural corporate Mafia” masquerading as a regular business was enough for her to assimilate.

Hope was certain that what this Irving guy wanted was Adele. Apparently, being a rare race, clairvoyants were very valuable. As employees, Robyn presumed, though by this point, if Hope said he’d wanted Adele for a ritual sacrifice, she wouldn’t have blinked.

“What all this has to do with the photo, and why Adele wants it back, I don’t know. It would make sense if Irving was behind Portia’s death. If he was trying to hire Adele, he wouldn’t want the photo splashed over the tabloids, where a rival could track her down and make a better offer.”

“He’d kill for that?”

“Sure.” Hope said it with absolute conviction, as if it was no more in question than whether a rival would make Adele a better offer.

That would mean this guy knew Portia told Robyn to send the picture to the tabs. Maybe he’d been tapping Portia’s phone. Or maybe Adele had used her powers and seen Portia type the message. It didn’t matter. Adele had killed Portia and was after Robyn, and that was what counted.

Hope and Karl also suspected that this supernatural corporation was involved in the murder investigation, through Detective Findlay.

“He’s a supernatural,” Hope explained. “One of my powers is that I can detect other supernaturals. I picked it up with Findlay. I confirmed that the Nasts do have employees on the police force. Homicide would be one of the key positions. It’s another way to survive unnoticed, heading off exposure threats and squelching the stories.”

“Like you do with True News,” Robyn said. “So how did I get mixed up in all this? I seem to be the only person involved who’s norm—not supernatural.”

“It happens. Most of the population has no supernatural powers and we don’t live in communes and caves. Imagine what would have happened if Karl hadn’t been here to find you Friday. What would you have done?”

Robyn thought about it. “Eventually turned myself in. Then, I guess Detective Findlay would have taken over and I’d have found myself framed for murder. That is, if Adele didn’t get to me outside the station.”

“And if either of those things happened, would you have had any suspicions that Adele wasn’t just a crazy woman? Or Detective Findlay wasn’t just another cop doing his job?”

“No.” She paused. “So I guess I should thank you guys for being here.”

“You might not want to be too quick with that. Wait until after you hear our plan for getting you out of this.”

ADELE

Ah, Adele, there you are.”

Adele glanced up the stairs to a stocky figure with a ring of steel-gray hair, tucking in his shirt. Niko, the kumpania’s bulibasha.

“Are you just getting in?” Niko lifted his arm, as if to check his watch, but his wrist was bare.

“Yes, I just got home.”

He beamed an avuncular smile as she stopped beside him. “I guess Jasmine Wills had quite a night.”

“I don’t know. I kept losing her.” Adele rubbed the back of her neck, wincing. She didn’t need to fake that. She had spent all night looking for someone. Just not Jasmine. “I didn’t get a single picture. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, kiddo. Can’t expect results the first night.”

He rumpled her hair, as if she was still five. Of course,