He shifted his weight and there was a tension to his posture I didn’t like. Something had gone wrong. I didn’t know what. I wasn’t sure whether it was important. But something had definitely gone wrong. I raised my brows, encouraging him to spill. He did, sort of.

“Queen Lopaka met with King Dahlmar. Privately.”

I wasn’t certain why that was bad. But it did seem a good time to bait John about the charm I’d learned he made. “I’m surprised he’d be willing to talk to her without a protection charm. I wouldn’t have thought he’d trust her not to screw with his mind.”

Creede smiled, a swift baring of white teeth. “He didn’t.” But he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate and I didn’t feel like pushing. Not when he was in this mood. “And while they were doing détente, the sirens interrogated Bobby.”

Bobby must have been the only surviving attacker. Talking about him, Creede’s voice was too flat, too matter-of-fact. We’d finally hit the sticking point. Thank God. The suspense had been killing me. I tried to think what the problem was and it occurred to me. Bobby was the name of one of the guys who’d come with Miller to the restaurant. It had to bother Creede that someone he knew, had worked with, had tried to murder him. But I was betting that wasn’t all of it. I tried to meet his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at me. He gazed out the French doors, as if the sky and sea were utterly fascinating.

“A woman, probably a siren, was manipulating Miller magically. It’s tied back to Dahlmar and his problems. Apparently she figured with you in the hospital and out of the way, he’d come to us for protection. So she screwed with Miller’s head, turned him against me.”

Whoa. So Miller’s rage-filled betrayal was against his will? That moved the whole issue from simply sad to criminal. “Did they find out who it was?”

Creede looked at me then, his eyes as cold and hard as Arctic ice. “No. He told them everything else. No problem. But when they tried for that, they hit a block.”

I cringed at the razor-sharp edge in his voice. I’ve heard of psychic blocks. They were never good. “What happened?”

“It broke his mind. Left him a drooling idiot.”

I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say. I mean, yeah, he’d been trying to kill us. But there are worse things than death and I’d count what happened to him as one of them—and I hadn’t known the guy. Creede had.

“Why didn’t she just influence you both not to take the case? That would’ve been easier.”

He gave me a haunted look. Reaching beneath the neck of his shirt, he pulled out an amulet—a feather tied to a small sack with silver wire and what looked like a suspiciously familiar long blond hair. “She couldn’t.”

“So you did come to visit me just so you could hijack my DNA, didn’t you—you bastard.”

He shrugged, not admitting but, more important, not denying. “Ivan had one like this. They’re hard as hell to make and it’s a constant drain on my power.” He gave me a fierce look, filled with pride. “I may not be Bruno DeLuca, but I managed it. I managed to repower Ivan’s so Dahlmar could have his little chat with Queen Lopaka safely.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t like that they’d taken the charm from Ivan’s dead body, but I also didn’t like Creede making one from my hair. But it wasn’t my call. All’s fair in the bodyguard game. I’d have done the same in reverse. Ultimately, it was practical. King Dahlmar needed protection from the sirens. Ivan didn’t. Not anymore. But I didn’t like it.

“I first guessed what you were when we were guarding Cassandra. Her reaction wasn’t normal, even for her. So I stole some of your hair from your hairbrush in the bathroom at your office. Made myself one of these as insurance for whenever you were around—just in case you were more than you appeared to be.”

I didn’t like that. But it was also my own fault. I’d been careless, leaving things out in the open. Yes, it was my office. But if Creede could get bio samples, so could other, less savory types. Note to self: start locking the hairbrush and toothbrush in the safe.

“I don’t know how the siren knew she couldn’t manipulate me, but she did.”

“Could she have come by the office? Sensed it on you then?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but I think I’d have noticed.”

I shook my head. “Not necessarily. It’s a big building, with a lot going on. Miller might not have felt the need to tell you about the meeting. Hell, she might have forced him not to.”

“Maybe,” he repeated. Silence stretched between us for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he spoke again, his voice harsh, angry. “I was going to use magic to trace the hair in the amulet Ivan made for Dahlmar to find which siren is behind all this.”

“And?”

“The spell didn’t work.”

“Maybe she wasn’t in range.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. From what they tell me, anybody who’s anybody was here for the hearing.”

“But that doesn’t mean they stayed after the ceremony was over. I know a couple of them can teleport and there’s an airport on the west half of the island. If I was working security, I’d have gotten everybody important off-site as fast as I could once the demon showed.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He leaned back into the couch, looking tired and more than a little depressed.

“Speaking of Dahlmar, where is he?”

“He’s sleeping in and Bubba’s on the door.” Creede’s face darkened, his disapproval patently obvious. Well, yeah. Bubba was probably still drunk, but it wasn’t like the king was a . . . wait a minute. I abruptly realized what the problem probably was. “Creede, have you been guarding Dahlmar?”

“Well, of course. Somebody had to.” The implication being that I hadn’t. That’d I’d been screwing around while he did all the work. Um, no. Time to disabuse him of that little notion.

“Creede, before we met up at PharMart, did Dahlmar actually hire you? Sign any paperwork like, oh, I dunno, a contract? Give you any money?”

It took a full ten seconds for that to hit him. When it did, Creede’s face was a sight to behold. His eyes widened and he opened and shut his mouth two or three times as he tried to come up with something appropriate to say. Poor baby.

I let out a small chuckle. I wasn’t really laughing at him, but . . . well, yeah, I guess I was. But he’s been in this business a lot longer than I have. To make such a rookie mistake deserved a little teasing. “Of course not. Because he doesn’t have any money. If he did, would he be running around in a frickin’ Mickey Mouse T-shirt? Oh, he’s probably got money stashed somewhere, but unless he goes to the U.S. government and claims asylum, he can’t get to it—and the second he does, the opposition will be able to track him.”

Creede just stared at me, so I continued. “I came on board your little operation for one purpose: to introduce him to the sirens. I did it as a freebie because he pulled all sorts of major strings to keep me from being locked up. Now he’s here. He’s met the sirens. My job’s done. Don’t be thinking I’m your backup or anything. You’ll be disappointed.”

“So you’re not protecting him. He’s on his own?” Creede didn’t exactly sound judgmental, more curious and embarrassed.

I sighed. “Oh, I’ll probably help his ass. I like him. Besides which, the people he’s up against are using spawn and maybe full-out demons and are probably the same people who put a death curse on me. But he’s safe enough here. He doesn’t need me watching him. Queen Lopaka isn’t going to let anything happen to him. I need to get what information I can and rest up while I’ve got the opportunity. Question is, what are you going to do?”

Creede grew thoughtful. “People think they’re using demons, but it backfires and before long the demon’s using them—they’re an open door to our world.”

“Yup.”

“George Miller was my partner for years and my best friend longer than that. Somebody connected with this used him and destroyed him.”

I nodded.

“I’m in.”

“I figured as much. But why don’t you let Bubba go back to bed?”

“I’ll do that.” Creede grinned. “Poor man has a helluva hangover. You should’ve warned him not to try to keep up with you now that you have an unfair advantage.”

“I was drinking Coke and he was pretty far gone before I even got here. I’m not thinking he’s loving the whole lap of luxury thing.”

“Whereas you, Princess, seem to be doing just fine.”

“Don’t make me throw peanuts at you.” I pointed a finger at him in warning and was rewarded with a puzzled look. I laughed it off. “Never mind. Private joke. But you need to get out of here. I’ve got to dress and get something to eat. I went to bed late, but it’s been close to four hours—”

“Right. Wouldn’t want to wind up a snack. I’ll go.” He rose. “But if magic isn’t going to help us find our siren, how are we going to track her down?”

I sighed and stood, following him to the door. “Do you really think we’ll have to? She wants me dead, wants Dahlmar dead. I figure all we’ve got to do is stay in one place.”

“You think she’ll try again.”

I lifted one shoulder, mostly in defeat. “Don’t you?”

We stood there staring at each other for a long moment, him in the doorway and me with one hand on the door. Tension appeared between us, fully formed, like that moment when he pulled his hand away from my leg. There was fire in the back of his eyes—real fire. The strongest mages always have a flicker of magic that you can see when you stare deep. Bruno’s eyes had always sucked me inside until that flame surrounded me. Even as a human I could feel his magic, but when I was a vampire it had blown me away.