“Anyway,” Eshe said after a moment. “I just wanted to say that before we leave. And to again welcome you to the family, because you’re a part of it now whether you admit it today or next year.”
Sarita stopped walking and frowned. “Leave? I thought you were all staying until Dressler was found?”
“That boat has sailed, unfortunately,” she said flatly. “We’ve got information suggesting that he’s left the country. Lucian’s arranging for a couple of Rogue Hunters to stay on the island in case he tries to come back here. They’ll be working with a couple of Rogue Hunters the South American Council is assigning to the island and the island will be under both councils’ purview, at least until Dressler is caught. But in the meantime, the rest of us are going home.”
Breathing out a sigh, she smiled wryly and added, “I was looking forward to seeing my husband, Armand, but apparently that’s not going to happen for a while yet.”
“No?” Sarita asked curiously.
Eshe shook her head. “Some rogues took advantage of our absence and have caused a good deal of trouble back home while so many of us were away. We have a couple of messes to clean up and some fires to help put out.” She shrugged. “Having been a mortal cop, you know how it is. While the cop’s away, the perps will play, right?”
Sarita smiled faintly. She’d never heard that one. She’d have to remember to tell it to Jackson.
“Listen, that’s something else I wanted to say,” Eshe added now. “If you ever get tired of playing cops and robbers with the mortal miscreants, we have some real rotten rogues that need putting down. And every job saves lives. There’s no dragging cats out of trees or slapping the wrists of shoplifters. Every rogue is a really bad dude who is killing or controlling mortals. And I already talked to Mirabeau about it. She liked you too and said you could ride with us. Just a thought,” she added. “No pressure. And the job will still be there ten, twenty, or even a hundred years down the road if you’d rather stay and help out the hybrids for a bit.”
“Did you read that out of my mind?” Sarita asked with amusement.
“Didn’t have to,” Eshe assured her. “You glow when you’re helping them, just like you do when Domitian is around. It’s obvious it makes you happy.”
They had walked full circle and were approaching the house again, and Sarita frowned when she saw her abuela rushing toward them.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who wants to talk to you today,” Eshe said, eyeing her grandmother with interest. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
“Eshe?” Sarita said as the woman started away. When the older immortal turned back she said, “Thank you.”
Eshe smiled. “Don’t tell the boys we had this heart to heart. They think I’m a hard-ass and I like it that way.”
“Oh please,” Sarita said with amusement. “You are a hard ass.”
“Yeah.” She grinned. “But so are you. That’s why Mirabeau and I like you. See you around, kiddo.”
“Later,” Sarita said with a smile and then watched as the two women passed each other. Eshe smiled at her grandmother easily, and Maria Reyes smiled nervously back, eyeing her a little leerily until she was well past her and had reached Sarita.
“She is one of those vampires, no?” her grandmother asked in a whisper, her hand going to the crosses at her throat as she glanced back at Eshe. She was wearing only two today, Sarita noticed. That was progress.
“She is an immortal, abuela,” she said firmly. “Like me.”
“Si. A vampire.” She turned back to her and shook her head sadly. “So young and pretty to be a vampire.”
“Again, not a vampire. And not so young either,” Sarita said with amusement. “She’s older than you.”
“No,” her grandmother said, turning to stare at the woman again. “No.”
“Si,” Sarita assured her. She almost told her Eshe’s age, but decided it might give the poor woman a heart attack, so asked, “Did you want to talk to me?”
“Oh, si.” Maria Reyes turned back to her and said worriedly, “Si, Chiquita, I need to talk to you.”
“What is it?” Sarita asked, her smile fading. “Has something happened?”
“No,” she assured her quickly and then sighed unhappily and blurted, “I want to be a part of your life, yes? But I cannot come to Canada with you, Chiquita. Elizabeth would be alone and she needs my help. These poor hybrids, so abused and imprisoned so long. They need help. And you don’t need help. You have your Domitian. But they have no one, and Elizabeth has only me and Thorne and—”
“Abuela,” Sarita interrupted gently when the woman didn’t show signs of winding down. “It’s okay.”
“Si?” she asked uncertainly.
“Si,” Sarita assured her, and then took a deep breath and admitted, “I’ve been thinking I might like to stay and help with the hybrids too.”
“Oh, Sarita!” She hugged her quickly. “That would be wonderful! I know Elizabeth will be so pleased. And then Domitian can stay and keep his restaurants and marry you like he wants and you can make babies for us to spoil and—”
“Yeah, Gran, you maybe want to slow your ponies there,” she said dryly. “Domitian hasn’t asked me to marry him or anything.”
“He asked me for permission to marry you.”
“He did?” Sarita asked with surprise. “When?”
“When he took us dancing. He is a true gentleman, that one. He asked for formal permission out of respect. A good boy.”
“What did you say?” she asked with curiosity.
“I said yes, of course,” she exclaimed as if that should be obvious. “He loves you and you love him and you will make me beautiful little grandbabies to spoil.”
It seemed everyone “knew” she loved him, Sarita thought wryly. She was the only holdout . . . and she didn’t want to be.
“Oh! There he is now. I will go. You tell him you are staying and will marry him. He will be so happy.” Her grandmother rushed off before she could protest and Sarita watched her beam happily at Domitian in passing.
When all he managed was a weak smile in return, Sarita frowned. Something was obviously up, and it didn’t look like this was the time to tell him anything. The moment he had passed her grandmother, his smile died and his expression became a combination of anger and concern.
“What is it?” Sarita asked, when he caught her hands and began to urge her farther into the garden.
“I was just talking to Lucian,” he said and then announced abruptly, “Dressler went to his apartment when he left here.”
“They found him?” she asked with surprise.
“No. They found what he left behind.”
Sarita eyed him uncertainly. “Davies?”
“He is alive. He was in a bad way, but they have given blood and he is recovering and talking and told us all he knew,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Raising his head, he added, “Asherah is dead, though.”
“How?” she asked at once.
“Her throat ripped out,” he said bluntly.
Sarita stiffened. “Davies didn’t—”
“No. That is what they first thought when they got on the scene, but he said no and the information on Dressler’s computer backs him up. El Doctor apparently left it in his rush to get out, and I guess it was rigged to record everything the cameras saw . . . all the cameras.”
“Us on the little island?” she asked and then winced when he nodded. Well, that was embarrassing.
“And us on this island,” he said quietly. “Including when I turned you.”
“What? But—”
“Lucian sent someone down to search the cottage. There was a camera in every room in the house. The recordings started while Dressler’s men were searching the cottage. They were planting and activating the cameras during their ‘search.’”
“So he knows how to become immortal,” she said with dread, and then realization struck and she glanced at him sharply. “That’s why he took Davies.”