I turned pages, studying the handwriting. “At the time this was written, few people were educated. It looks as if he was trying to learn from Immanuel’s penmanship. Here at the end of the journal, his penmanship is much better.” I flipped from the beginning to the end. “It looks similar to the original.” He had learned from the journal and from the man he had eaten, body and memories, but I wasn’t sure how the former priest would react to all that.
Santiago frowned. And then he crossed himself and whispered, “Dios mío. That is what I saw on the video.” Santiago looked at me horror in his eyes. “The lion with the teeth, the creature you killed, he took the place of the Pellissier heir. He was not born the Pellissier heir but he became the heir.Si?”
“Yes, Santiago. I believe he was an evil, magical creature. He ate Immanuel and he took his place. It is the very worst of black magic.” I jutted my chin at the other journals on his small table. “Whose else’s journals?”
“Soledad Martinez and a very young Amaury Pellissier.”
I tilted my head. Soledad was a vamp I had met. She was on an estate out in bayou country. She and her friend Malita and their few drug-dependent blood-servants had been kept isolated long enough to go bonkers, and when I discovered how bad it was, I’d had the blood-servants replaced. I should have checked on them before now. “You know Soledad?”
“She was my patron when I first became a scion.” He smiled slightly. “My sire had died while I was in the devoveo, and I was alone. She was always kind to me when we were in Ming of Mearkanis’s clan. It will be a joy to read her words.”
“You didn’t join Ming when she took her clan back over. Why?”
“Ming of Mearkanis was...” His eyes slid away, a very human reaction. “...not fully Naturaleza. But there was no kindness in her soul for the Mithran scions and humans in her clan.”
“How many languages do you speak and read?”
“I am fluent in six spoken languages and read fluently twelve more. I am, as your people say today,okayin another dozen. I can understand and translate with a degree of certainty an additional five. I was a monk when human, of the Order of the Benedictines, in Northern Spain, and was charged with learning the languages of the pilgrims to better assist them.” He smiled sadly. “I was changed against my will but the centuries after have shown me that I can be among the drinkers of blood and yet not of them.”
How many languages was that? Would I run out of fingers and toes if I tried to count that high? Santiago’s dossier had shown me a lot of his skills, but had concentrated on his abilities as a counselor, mediator between Blood Masters, and a translator. “Holy crap.”
Santiago gave me his sad smile. “No.”
“Oh. Right.” Not holy crap. He’d been a priest. I’d have to watch my mouth around him. “Sorry. You want a job?” I asked.
“No, My Queen. I wish to join your clan.”
I started to tell him no, that I had enough people in myclan, but his eyes were sad. Or maybebeseechingwas a better word.
He was an outsider, a misfit. He was asking to join a clan of other misfits. Santiago slipped from his chair to the floor, kneeling at my feet.
“Ahhh.” I sighed, but tried to keep my dismay out of the breath sound. There were a lot of ways to be accepted into a clan, and not all involved sharing blood, but since the drawing of power from the fangheads loyal to me, it had occurred to me that Ishouldshare blood. At least a little, from time to time, with the vamps who swore to me, and definitely when they did the swearing thing. “Quint, I need a sharp throwing knife.” I held a hand back over my shoulder. My lady-in-waiting placed one into my palm, hilt first.
I pulled my cell and dialed Alex. When he answered, I said, “I need a video witness to record the swearing-in of a scion.”
“Yes, My Queen. You are on video record.”
I handed the cell to Quint. “Record this.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Santiago, how many blood-servants do you bring?”
“Three, My Queen.”
“I will be honored to accept your service,” I said to the man at my feet. “How do you swear?”
“I, Eneko Jesus Santiago Molina, swear fealty to you as Blood Master of Clan Yellowrock, pledging my loyalty to you and to your many-creatured clan family. I swear to work for, to provide for, to protect and care for, to fight for—though I am no warrior, you must know this before you accept me—and to die true dead as you may need. I place my needs second to yours. I place my hunger second to yours and to your scions. I place all that I am and all that I own at your disposal, at your feet, into your hands. I am yours in life and undeath and in true-death.”
As he talked, I figured out what I needed to say. He hadn’t sworn loyalty to the Dark Queen, so that limited his service. “I, Jane Doe Yellowrock, Blood Master of Clan Yellowrock, Master of the City of New Orleans, will guard, protect, provide for, and care for Eneko Jesus Santiago Molina and three willing blood-servants,giving him solitude, family, safety, a place to work, and protection to the fullest extent of my abilities and power within those titles, accepting him as scion into Clan Yellowrock.” I pricked my finger and offered it to Santiago. He took the tip into his mouth. It was cold, the same temperature as the furniture in his room, which always shocked me.
He took the knife and pricked his own finger. I leaned down and accepted the drop. Also cold on my tongue.Yuck. But his blood was... crisp? Maybe? It had a clean taste, like a delicate white tea made with glacier melt over an open fire.
Beast perked up.Strong vampire blood. Jane must drink more.
Nope,I thought at her.
I accepted the knife back and wiped the blade tip on the tissue Quint handed me, wrapping my finger into it, even though the vamp saliva had closed the wound.
