He died from “plague”—was turned on July 19, 1100
Godfrey sounded like the perfect Naturaleza: a warped vampire psychopath with no morals of any kind. As a human he’d used religion to hurt who he wanted and to steal what he wanted. He was like the churchmen of God’s Cloud of Glory Church, who put their wants and beliefs and political values before the scriptures themselves.
Godfrey and his vampires were in town, attacking Ming, kidnapping a teenaged girl. We had Jason, who had been drank from as a child and sexually abused by Isleen, an insane vampire. A sexually abused teen in cahoots with—not in bed with, that was hitting too close to the truth—Godfrey. AndRick and Ming were targets. Had Jason gone to Godfrey willingly? Or had Jason used black-magic circles to call Godfrey to use him?
Jason was awfully young to be so devious.
As I considered the list, the historical files that followed, and Alex’s documentation, JoJo turned up the null room speakers again. T. Laine said, “You have to realize that the others can’t trust you. You might be influencing Rick through his tats.”
I spun my chair to face the null room screen. T. Laine sat forward, intent on Loriann, leaning across the table that stretched between them. Our witch had one hand lightly clenched on the tabletop. She looked kind, understanding, even gentle, unlike the plainspoken, straight-talking witch I knew.
“Loriann, I can’t see you being able to work with Rick or this team. We can’t trust you.”
Loriann’s face hardened. “But without me, you can’t find Jason.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. He was chased off one of his last circles. Unit Eighteen has physical evidence. Stuff that hasn’t been entered into NCIC yet.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Slowly, T. Laine opened her clenched fist to reveal the wooden golf tee we had taken from the circle. Or one just like it, which was more likely. T. Laine wouldn’t touch real evidence, not with her bare hand.
Loriann’s eyes locked on to the wooden tee. Her jaw came forward and her nostrils flared in surprise.
“You should,” Lainie said. “You need a friend. I’m a witch. I might understand when no one else in the entire city might.”
“Oh God.” Loriann’s eyes filled with tears.
“Yeah. Microscopic traces of DNA stuck on a golf tee, after a hot and sweaty round in NOLA heat, can be used in workings and curses by witches and covens. Rick never played golf except with his dad, and not for years now. He didn’t know that Jason was following him around New Orleans, stealing personal things, did he?”
Loriann rocked forward and back in her hard chair. Rocking, she raked her hair from her face in a gesture that looked as if she was tearing it out. We three watched her, no longerscrolling through Alex’s information on Godfrey, no longer talking. The NOLA witch looked defeated. Paler than when she arrived. She tried to speak, and the sound stopped in her throat, choked off by emotion. She went still and tried again, her words strangled. “It was three weeks after Rick and after the vampires, Leo Pellissier, and Katie Fonteneau rescued Jason.” Her eyes filled with tears and she pressed the back of her wrist against one and then the other to catch the tears. Her mascara stained the wrist feathery black. “He was playing golf with his father. I was... I was playing in the group behind them.”
“Ahhh,” T. Laine said. “Youwere stalking Rick. To help Jason, right? If I’d been blessed with a sorcerer brother, it’s whatIwould have done. Protect him. Family comes first.”
“Yes,” Loriann said, sounding relieved that Lainie understood.
Shifting subtly, Lainie mimicked her body posture until they were almost mirrored. It was standard Reid interrogation technique, but Lainie didn’t touch the witch, not even in the safety of the null room.
“Everything I did was for Jason,” Loriann said. “Always.”
T. Laine’s eyes shifted to the small mic on the table. Carefully, she covered it with her empty hand. “I get that. I do,” she whispered. “But you have to understand that the others, they won’t. Witches, witches stand together. But the mundane, they just don’t get it.”
Loriann’s gaze swung from the covered mic to the tee in T. Laine’s fingers, her tears flowing freely now.
“You’ve been alone, fighting to keep Jason safe all these years. Now you have help,” T. Laine whispered. “You’re not alone.”
Loriann broke down in sobs, her head on the table, her shoulders shuddering. As Rick had said, Loriann was wracked with guilt and anger, but also with loneliness. On some level, I understood that kind of loneliness. I’d been alone for a long time too.
“And that,” Tandy said, satisfaction in his tone, “is how you turn a suspect. At least until she realizes she’s been messed with.”
Gently, T. Laine added, “And then Jason disappeared,taking away all the items you had collected with Rick’s DNA on them.”
“I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”
“Lie,” Tandy whispered softly. “Lie.”
