Read Online Divine Misdemeanors by Laurell K. Hamilton - Free Book Online
Authors: Laurell K. Hamilton
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most demi-fey would take fresh blood over sweets.
“Everyone is tall to me, so they were tall,” she said in that little piping voice. It was not the voice that had screamed at us. She was playing the humans. It might be suspicious, or it might simply be habit, camouflage so the big people didn’t hurt her.
“What color was their hair?” Lucy asked.
“One was black as night, one was yellow like maple leaves before they fall, one was paler yellow like roses when they fade from the sun,one had hair like leaves when they’ve fallen and lost all color save brown, though it’s the brown after a rain.”
We all waited, but she went back to the cake that Robert held up for her.
“What were they wearing, Bittersweet?”
“Plastic,” she said, at last.
“What do you mean, ‘plastic’?” Lucy asked.
“Clear plastic like you wrap leftover food in.”
“You mean they wore plastic wrap?”
She shook her head. “They had plastic over their hair and clothes, and their hands.”
I watched Lucy and her partner both fight not to give away the fact that the news excited them. This bit of description must help explain something at the crime scene, which gave credence to Bittersweet’s statement. “What color was the plastic?”
I sipped my tea and tried not to draw attention to myself. Frost, Doyle, and I were here because Bittersweet trusted us to keep her out of the clutches of the human police. She trusted as most of the lesser fey did that the nobles of her court would be noble. We would try. Lucy had insisted that Doyle sit on the couch with me rather than looming over them. So I sat on the couch between the two of them. Frost had even moved from the couch arm to the actual couch, so he wouldn’t loom either.
“It had no color,” Bittersweet said, and whispered something in Robert’s ear. He reached carefully to bring the china teacup up so she could drink from it. It was large enough for her to bathe in.
“Do you mean,” asked Lucy, “that it was colorless?”
“That is what I said,” and she sounded a little more irritated. Was it glamour, which the demi-fey were very, very good at, that gave an edge of bee buzzing to her words?
“So you could see their clothes underneath the plastic?”
She seemed to think about that, then nodded.
“Can you describe the clothes?”
“Clothes, they were clothes, squished behind the plastic.” She rose suddenly upward, her clear dragonfly wings buzzing around her like a moving rainbow halo. “They are big people. They are humans. They all look alike to me.” The high angry buzzing was louder, like an undercurrent to her words.
Lucy’s partner said, “Does anyone else hear bees?”
Robert stood, raising his hand toward the hovering fey like you would to encourage a bird to land on your hand. “Bittersweet, they want to help find the men who did this terrible thing. They are here to help you.”
The sound of angry bees rose high and higher, loud and louder. If I’d been outside, I’d have been running. The tension level in the room had gone way up. Even Frost and Doyle were tense beside me, though we all knew it was a sound illusion that would keep curious big people from coming too close to the small fey, or her plants. It was a noise designed to make you nervous, to make you want to be elsewhere. That was the point of it.
There was another loud knock on the door. Lucy said, “Not now.” She kept her eyes on the hovering demi-fey. She wasn’t treating Bittersweet like a child now. Lucy was like anyone who had been on the job long enough; they get a sense for danger. All the best cops I know listen to that crawling sensation on the back of their necks. It’s how they stay alive.
Robert tried again, “Bittersweet, please, we are here to help you.”
Wright opened the door enough to relay Lucy’s message. There was urgent whispering back and forth.
Doyle’s leg was tensed under my hand, ready to spring him forward. The line of Frost’s
“Everyone is tall to me, so they were tall,” she said in that little piping voice. It was not the voice that had screamed at us. She was playing the humans. It might be suspicious, or it might simply be habit, camouflage so the big people didn’t hurt her.
“What color was their hair?” Lucy asked.
“One was black as night, one was yellow like maple leaves before they fall, one was paler yellow like roses when they fade from the sun,one had hair like leaves when they’ve fallen and lost all color save brown, though it’s the brown after a rain.”
We all waited, but she went back to the cake that Robert held up for her.
“What were they wearing, Bittersweet?”
“Plastic,” she said, at last.
“What do you mean, ‘plastic’?” Lucy asked.
“Clear plastic like you wrap leftover food in.”
“You mean they wore plastic wrap?”
She shook her head. “They had plastic over their hair and clothes, and their hands.”
I watched Lucy and her partner both fight not to give away the fact that the news excited them. This bit of description must help explain something at the crime scene, which gave credence to Bittersweet’s statement. “What color was the plastic?”
I sipped my tea and tried not to draw attention to myself. Frost, Doyle, and I were here because Bittersweet trusted us to keep her out of the clutches of the human police. She trusted as most of the lesser fey did that the nobles of her court would be noble. We would try. Lucy had insisted that Doyle sit on the couch with me rather than looming over them. So I sat on the couch between the two of them. Frost had even moved from the couch arm to the actual couch, so he wouldn’t loom either.
“It had no color,” Bittersweet said, and whispered something in Robert’s ear. He reached carefully to bring the china teacup up so she could drink from it. It was large enough for her to bathe in.
“Do you mean,” asked Lucy, “that it was colorless?”
“That is what I said,” and she sounded a little more irritated. Was it glamour, which the demi-fey were very, very good at, that gave an edge of bee buzzing to her words?
“So you could see their clothes underneath the plastic?”
She seemed to think about that, then nodded.
“Can you describe the clothes?”
“Clothes, they were clothes, squished behind the plastic.” She rose suddenly upward, her clear dragonfly wings buzzing around her like a moving rainbow halo. “They are big people. They are humans. They all look alike to me.” The high angry buzzing was louder, like an undercurrent to her words.
Lucy’s partner said, “Does anyone else hear bees?”
Robert stood, raising his hand toward the hovering fey like you would to encourage a bird to land on your hand. “Bittersweet, they want to help find the men who did this terrible thing. They are here to help you.”
The sound of angry bees rose high and higher, loud and louder. If I’d been outside, I’d have been running. The tension level in the room had gone way up. Even Frost and Doyle were tense beside me, though we all knew it was a sound illusion that would keep curious big people from coming too close to the small fey, or her plants. It was a noise designed to make you nervous, to make you want to be elsewhere. That was the point of it.
There was another loud knock on the door. Lucy said, “Not now.” She kept her eyes on the hovering demi-fey. She wasn’t treating Bittersweet like a child now. Lucy was like anyone who had been on the job long enough; they get a sense for danger. All the best cops I know listen to that crawling sensation on the back of their necks. It’s how they stay alive.
Robert tried again, “Bittersweet, please, we are here to help you.”
Wright opened the door enough to relay Lucy’s message. There was urgent whispering back and forth.
Doyle’s leg was tensed under my hand, ready to spring him forward. The line of Frost’s
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