“Last one?” I asked.
“My Queen. This is Quint. She is Quesnel’s niece and an accomplished lady-in-waiting, bodyguard, and secretary.”
Quesnel was Leo’s sommelier. He didn’t like me because I drink beer, not swanky wine, but he was necessary at HQ to satisfy the palettes of the fancy-type vamps who stayed here sometimes. My brain stopped. “What? Lady-in-waiting? Waiting for what?”
Wrassler’s face looked as if he was trying not to grin at me, but not really succeeding. “She is trained in a variety of etiquette proprieties and royal conduct, and has studied for the last year to be yourmostpersonal assistantandsecurity. Her areas of expertise includewardrobe selection”—his voice made a very suspicious hiding-laughter hiccup sound before he finished his sentence—“hairstyling, andmakeup. She is also proficient in keeping a royal and personal calendar, handling events, taking care of onerous and unnecessary appointments and phone calls, and scheduling the important ones for your convenience.” His voice steadied. “She speaks four languages, is a crack shot, and is a seventh dan black belt in taekwondo. She is a capable cook, has survival skills should you ever be stranded in the wilderness, can fish, hunt, and prepare a variety of wild game over an open fire. She knows of your various forms. She has no sense of fear.”
I looked over the diminutive woman. She was the essence of ordinary. She was a head shorter than me, muscular, wore her hair in a dyed-blond butch cut, and had pretty painted nails. But her eyes were empty. Utterly empty. And she smelled of the absence of emotion.
“How well do you lie?” I asked her.
“I never lie.”
“How often do you speak the truth?” I asked.
“Never.”
“If I walked into the wine cellar and killed Quesnel, what would you do?”
Finally her eyes took on life and honesty. “I would kill you in a heartbeat.”
Wrassler’s entire face changed, and he reached for his weapon under his left arm beneath his suit jacket.
I held up a single finger, stopping him. “If you swear to me, Quint, how many others, beside Quesnel, would come before me?”
“No one.”
I raised both brows at Wrassler and asked, “How many people other than Quesnel are important in her life?”
“No one.” He nearly snarled.
“Good by me. You and the others swear to me. Right here, right now.”
Florence dropped to her knees as graceful as a curtsy. The doc dropped again to his knees slowly, as if they might be achy. Long-Knife didn’t want to kneel and dropped down slowly so I could see his reluctance. Quint went to one knee but offered me her knife. Which Wrassler clearly had no idea she carried. I took the blade. It was a nice, well-balanced, ten-inch vamp-killer, silver-plated, very sharp steel. Quint was sneaky. Probably a sociopath. But she would bemysociopath. Leo would have bound her to him in a heartbeat.
It was a truncated ceremony since I wasn’t a vamp and had no intention of sharing my blood with them. Afterward they filed out, and I was left with Wrassler. I said, “So I have NOLA’s undertaker, a loaner with a bad attitude that Ming probably expects me to fix, a nurse who might be the difference between me living and dying, should I not be able to shift again, and a bat-shit crazy wardrobe consultant. How did these people all happen to turn up here, tonight? That’s mighty suspicious.”
“The Consort was approached by Florence through the intercession of Edmund. He negotiated her potential contract, My Queen. She arrived in New Orleans an hour ago, and just now arrived here. Florence will remain close to you from now on. She will be moved into Katie’s house with your overflow blood-servants and additional security. Long-Knife, once he’s been bled and read, will be moved to another clan home because he’s such a pain in the butt and no one wants to work with him. Quint...” He dropped onto the chair opposite me and rubbed his face as if his head, jaw, and teeth ached, leaving his hand over his eyes. “I had no idea about her.”
“She smelled wrong.”
Wrassler lifted his hand from his eyes. “Smelled... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”
I figured I had surprised Wrassler.
I blew out a sigh, sad that the tea table was set for tea,but the pot was cold and empty. I wasn’t going to get tea. Or food. My stomach growled. I stood, which meant that Wrassler had to get to his feet too. Because I was the queen. Right. I hated protocol. I gestured to the door. Wrassler opened it, allowing me to exit. “You up for a walk?” I asked. “I want to check on the prisoner in the scion lair.”
Wrassler frowned, following me into the hallway. “Why didn’t you take Monique’s head, Janie?”
“I thought about it. But Leo taught me to know my enemies. And...” An interesting thought reared its head. If Monique lived, I might be able to use my new lizard amulet icon to force a mental connection, just like Sabina did to me. I might learn who was behind everything.
In the scion lair, the Onorio was chained in the only cage for humans, one without silver plating. Monique wasn’t breathing. Her mouth was open and her eyes were dried. She looked dead. But she didn’t smell as if she was decaying. I needed to talk to some older Onorios and soon. We left the scion lair.
“I need a little privacy,” I said to Wrassler.
He opened a door to a tiny waiting room, sparsely furnished with mismatched older chairs, a tiny table, and a single lamp. “I’ll bring you tea. Sliced beef sandwiches are waiting to be delivered, My Queen.”
I sat on the sofa and said, “I’m teaed out. How about a Coke? And, Wrassler? I’d like to be Janie when it’s just us,” I said. “Or Legs. You can save the queen stuff for when we’re official.”
