"So did someone bring the groceries up, or are they still in your car?"

Trudy shrugged helplessly.

"I don't pay that much attention to what's in the fridge, so I didn't notice a difference," Marcy said.

"Where are your keys? I'll go down and check the car."

"Why does it matter?"

"It matters," Marcy told her grimly, "because it tells us whether or not he was in this apartment."

She rose and began to pace. "I know how you feel about the police department right now, Gwen, but it's time to bring someone in. If this man had something to do with Kyle's death, if he was at Kyle's house, he might have left prints. His fingerprints here could go a long way toward clearing Trudy."

"They won't find prints at Kyle's house," Gwen said.

Marcy stopped abruptly and turned to Gwen. "You didn't."

"I wanted to make sure things wouldn't get messy for Trudy."

"By destroying evidence that could lead to the real killer?" She dug both hands into her thick blond hair and gripped her head for a moment with an intensity that suggested it might otherwise explode.

She collected herself and turned cool gray eyes toward Gwen. "You used to cross lines from time to time, but you were all about finding answers and solving problems. If anyone suggested that you'd try to manipulate the situation, you would have ripped them a new one. What has happened to you?"

That was a fair question if Gwen ever heard one."I'm still looking for answers," she said slowly, "but I have good reason not to trust the conventional channels."

Marcy flopped into a chair and rubbed her eyes. "Do I want to know what you mean by 'unconventional channels'?"

"Probably not."

The attorney rose and walked to the door, picking up her purse on the walk. Without turning around she said, "I'm going to need some time to think about all this. And right now, I really need to be alone."

The door closed quietly behind her. A long moment of silence pa.s.sed before Gwen glanced at Trudy and observed, "I never thought I'd see you and me on the same s.h.i.t list."

That earned a sickly smile. "A s.h.i.t-list sisterhood."

"Don't get carried away," Gwen cautioned. "I need your car keys."

Trudy made an impatient gesture. "I don't care about the groceries."

"Neither do I, but I need to check out the car. There's a chance I can find out something about this guy, and-"

Inspiration came suddenly, striking her dumb in midsentence. Gwen dug the keys to her Toyota out of the pocket of her leather jacket and tossed them on the coffee table.

"In fact, I need to take your car for a while. Here're my keys in case you need to go anywhere. But I'd recommend that you stay close to home."

"I've seen your car," Trudy grumbled. "How far could I go, anyway?"

Gwen paused at the door. "One more thing: that herbal tea you got from The Green Man? Throw it out."

"Why?"

"If I'm right, it's part of an elaborate setup. There's some serious s.h.i.t in that tea, and you've been drinking it long enough to be hooked on it."

Indignation firmed the redhead's lips into a straight line. "That's ridiculous."

"Really? Have you had a cup yet this morning?"

"No..."

"And how are you feeling?"

She grimaced. "I could tell you precisely how I feel, but my mother raised me not to use those words."

"What were you thinking of doing as soon as I left?"

Trudy shrugged, conceding Gwen's point and dismissing it in one gesture. "So what? You always start your morning with coffee."

"Sure, but it doesn't affect my behavior. Look back over the past four or five months. You've changed.

I've noticed it, and Marcy sure as h.e.l.l has noticed.""What did she say to you?"

"Knowing Marcy, a lot less than she said to you. I'll tell you what I've observed. You've gotten clingy, dependent, and paranoid. Not to mention edgy and moody and b.i.t.c.hy."

Trudy's shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her hands. "I haven't felt like myself," she admitted.

"But I've been drinking the herbal tea and taking the supplements because that makes me feel better."

"Duh. Do you think people get turned on to addictive substances because they enjoy feeling like s.h.i.t? But after a while you start needing it to feel normal, and needing a lot more to feel good."

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of junky," Trudy protested.

"Same s.h.i.t, different tea bag."

Since it was apparent that Trudy wasn't completely convinced, Gwen went to the kitchen and started opening cupboards. She found the telltale boxes and poured the leaves into the garbage disposal, let the water and the disposal run until every last fleck was washed away. When she glanced up, the stricken look on Trudy's face proved that this instinct had been sound.

"What are you thinking?" Gwen asked. "Don't filter it."

Trudy shook her head in denial. "What you did right now-it doesn't really matter. It shouldn't matter."

"Then why do you look like your world just went down the drain along with that tea?"

Silent tears began to run down Trudy's pale cheeks. "What do I do?"

"The same thing any addict does. You acknowledge there's a problem-and I think you just did that-and you do what's necessary to beat it. We'll make sure you get through this."

"We? Are you so sure Marcy will come back?"

In all honesty, Gwen couldn't give the answer Trudy wanted. She crossed the room and crouched down in front of the woman's chair so that they were eye to eye.

"I'm going to introduce you to a friend of mine. Sister Tamar is very good at helping people find their way. You'll get through this. I'll be there with you, whether you want me or not. Although," she added, lifting one eyebrow, "judging by the other night, I think we've covered that pretty thoroughly."

Trudy flushed and covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She dropped her hands suddenly, anger pushing aside embarra.s.sment. "You're teasing me. I don't believe this. How can you joke about this? What kind of heartless b.i.t.c.h are you?"

Gwen rose, suppressing a grin. "Hey! I thought your mother taught you not to use words like that."

"My mother," Trudy said grimly, "never met you."

Trudy's white Lexus was parked in the lot across the street. Fancy car, with too many whistles and bells for Gwen's taste. It even had a navigation computer to show you how to get where you're going. She turned the key, and the engine responded with a welcoming purr.

As she suspected, the last destination was still on the navigation screen.Adrian hadn't forgotten to erase the screen. He wasn't stupid, and neither was Erin. They were together now, and they wanted Gwen to find them.

Once again, Gwen was being manipulated in someone's deadly little game. It made her mad as h.e.l.l, but she figured she might as well get used to it.

Because one thing was becoming abundantly clear: the Elder Folk-Gwen was starting to think of them as Effers, for more reasons than one-toyed with humans like malevolent cats playing with cornered mice, and they weren't all that different when it came to dealing with one another.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

Gwen followed the map on the navigation screen to an old brick warehouse in Pawtucket. She parked Trudy's car and walked around the building, checking for the best way in.

A narrow lot behind the building was empty but for a few discarded crates and a large elm tree.

Remembering Damian's observation about the direction of the arrow that'd hit him, Gwen jumped up and caught the lowest branch. She swung herself onto the limb and began to climb.

The roof of the warehouse was oddly shaped-a long series of sawed-toothed triangles, each fronted by a pane of gla.s.s to let in light. She walked along the roof's edge until she found the broken pane.

She dropped to her stomach and peered in. Sure enough, the system of pipes and venting ducts provided enough handholds to take her across the ceiling to the narrow walkway that lined one side of the open room. From there, she could take stairs down to the main floor.

Gwen reached for the first pipe and gave it a tug to test its strength. It held, so she swung herself into the opening and began to move hand over hand toward the walk.

The room was eerily silent. The only sound was the faint creak of ancient pipes, and the skittering of tiny clawed feet as rats went about their business in unseen corners.

She dropped lightly onto the walkway. Her boots. .h.i.t the scarred wooden planks with a ringing thud-a small sound, under most circ.u.mstances.

"Down here," called a familiar voice.

Gwen made her way cautiously down to the main floor. Behind a stack of crates she found Adrian Archer.

He sat on the floor, his face as pale as the visage of the dead woman in his arms. One trembling hand stroked her brown hair, over and over, as if to imprint this last tactile memory of her on his heart.

For a long moment Gwen studied the grim tableau. This was not at all what she'd expected to find. Erin wore a pale blue sweater, a color similar to that she'd worn in the photo Kyle had carried. It was now soaked with blood. There was a single hole in the sweater, directly over Erin's heart-a precise, killing stroke.

The same death wound Gwen had found on Kyle Radcliff. The same spot as the shot that had nearly killed Damian."Where is Patrick Radcliff?" she asked.

Adrian shook his head. "I have no idea. Erin must have made some arrangements for him, but she never told me what they were."

"I'm curious-did she know Patrick wasn't her son?"

He glanced up sharply. "What are you saying?"

"Erin raised a human baby. Her son was taken from her at birth. He's a changeling, just like his mother, and he's out there somewhere."

Grief flooded Adrian's face, removing any lingering doubts Gwen had about Patrick's paternity.

She crouched down on the floor and nodded toward the dead woman. "Why?"

Adrian tangled a strand of silky brown hair around his fingers. "Our Qualities vary greatly, both in type and power. Hers was a very special gift."

"The glamour."

"That's right. When that began to manifest during her adolescence, she was brought in. Willingly she came, glad to be among people like herself. She was relocated quite some distance away. After a time, she disappeared. I was sent to find her. We didn't expect her to return to the same area she'd known during her early life. By the time I found her, she had already made contact with others."

"Wallace Earl Edmonson."

"That's correct. He was intrigued by her gift and offered her a place in his business. By the time I arrived, she had already started to use her own products."

"So? I thought that didn't affect Elder Folk."

"It doesn't. It shouldn't," he corrected grimly. "But Erin became addicted to the herbs she sold, and she knew what that meant."

"Tell me."

"The Elders are very concerned about keeping the bloodlines pure. If someone starts displaying human traits or weaknesses, he disappears. Erin knew this. For some time, she has been getting ready to disappear on her own terms."

"Her husband has a record of violence. She hoped her disappearance would be blamed on him. And she had him killed to make that trail harder to follow."

Adrian responded with a grim smile. "She was right. No one will find Kyle Radcliff's true murderer."

"I think I just did."

"It doesn't matter," he murmured.

"Oh, I think it does. A friend of mine was set up to take the fall, and that's not going to happen."

He shrugged as if that, too, didn't matter, and turned his attention back to Erin's still face. "She was so lovely, and so very clever. I couldn't bear to see that oaf lay a hand on her. She knew that. Sheprovoked him into striking her, knowing that I would see, knowing how I would respond."

Gwen watched as he stroked her hair. "She manipulated you into killing for her. You don't seem too upset about that."

"Why should I be? The man's death means nothing to me."

She had no idea what to say to that. After a moment, she told him, "I'm going to take you in."