Stupid dog,Beast thought. I ignored her.
All of us were drinking tea except Tex, who was drinking coffee. Coffee was an odd preference for a vamp. They usually only drank wine or tea in addition to the food meal of human blood, but when I asked why coffee, Tex said, “Begging your pardon, My Queen, and present company excepted, but tea is for milksops and sissies. I like coffee strong enough to char the silver off a spoon, and rye whiskey that’s been aged a few decades, though not usually together. Ma’am.”
I chuckled softly. “Them’s killin’ words, cowboy.”
Tex grinned at me over the rim of his cup. “Anytime you wanna throw down, Queenie. But I’m more a boxer and not so much any a that mixed martial arts stuff. That’s for sissies too.”
Tex was picking at me like... like family. It felt good. He was sporting a slightly handlebar-ish moustache, andthere was coffee in the hair over his lips. Made me wonder what it looked like after drinking blood.Yuck.
Those were the only words spoken in the quiet of the dark of morning, the sound of rain pattering against the windows, the flames flickering in the fireplace. We sat in silent companionship until the first cups—like manna from heaven—were done and we were all more or less alert.
Once the second cups were poured, Bruiser said, “Koun, Kojo, and Thema together bled and read Long-Knife. I listened in, but did not participate. They have news.”
I met his eyes, understanding. He was an ethical, moral man, and he didn’t believe in enslaving anyone who wasn’t actively trying to kill him. He tilted his head in acknowledgment, as if he knew what I was thinking.
Bruiser glanced at Thema. “Report.”
She twirled a silver earring through the hole in her lobe. “The human Long-Knife is an annoying little scrap of flesh. He thinks overmuch of himself. His mind is full of sex and power, but without the blood of one of us, he is unable to... I think the current term is ‘get it up.’ He enjoys dominating others and causing pain. He would swear to anyone who could provide a permanent cure to hisfunctional problem.” Thema almost snarled the last two words.
Kojo took over the report. “He is the one who lost the headset, and though it was by accident, he did not report the loss. He is neither loyal nor disloyal, at this time. Alex is keeping watch, following him through the halls of HQ via his wrist band locator, and elsewhere, by accessing his cell phone.”
Kojo said, “We all agree he is not a danger to you at this time. But he is apotentialdanger.”
“Good enough,” I said. “I’m lucky to have anyone who’s not disloyal at this point, since I can’t force loyalty.”
“No one can force loyalty, My Queen,” Kojo said. “Obedience can be achieved by force. Should you wish.”
“I’m not making slaves.”
“One of many reasons we are still here. My Queen,” Thema said.
Koun was smiling, that faint vamp smile they learn when they lose their humanity. “I agree, my Queen,” hesaid. “Long-Knife is a pissant, potentially disloyal, but not currently dangerous. And should he become so, he might lead us to our enemies.”
Ourenemies. Notyourenemies. Uncoerced loyalty and friendship were rare things in my life. “Thank you. We’ll see what Alex finds out. Okeydokey. Bruiser?”
“We have a gold crucifix missing its cross. We have a silver key with no lock. They bear the maker’s mark of M. Delarue, of 171 Bourbon Street, crafted in 1842. They were commissioned by a Mithran as a gift. Did any of you live here in New Orleans in 1842?”
“I resided here,” Koun said. “But I had lost all of my close-at-hand wealth in the spate of recent wars and had not yet been to Ireland to my bankers there. I could not afford jewelry in 1842.”
“We have all been short of funds from time to time,” Kojo said, his dark warrior’s hand holding a scarlet mug. “Involvement in human wars is often disadvantageous. But forgive us, Consort. You have news.”
Bruiser picked up his narrative. “Overnight, I requested a trusted Mithran go to the City Archives and Special Collections, and then to a certain private collection of historical papers to search for the Delarue’s records. According to a Delarue business journal, Joses Santana had the crucifix created as a gift for a female whom he fancied. Soledad Martinez.”
Joses Santana was one of the Sons of Darkness, and I had heard Soledad’s name from Santiago Molina. There was no such thing as coincidence.
Soledad and her friend Malita were ancient vamps who had been sent to an estate in bayou country by Leo’s predecessor to be looked after by pot-smoking humans. The same small group of blood meal humans hadn’t been changed out for way too long and, by the time Bruiser and I went to visit the vamps, they had been stoned to the gills for decades.
“Why would the SOD give a crucified Jesus to her? She might go up in flames,” I said. “And when we saw her, she was not all there mentally. Like dementia or something.”
“Yet he did. And yes, she was, though what she was like when the Son of Darkness arrived in New Orleans, Idon’t know. The crucifix was part of a necklace that came in a velvet-covered box. The silver key opened the jewelry box that contained the necklace.” Bruiser let his eyes flicker to me and back to watching the vamps. I realized he wasexaminingthem. As if they might be dangerous.
“So... she had something he wanted. And he was going to get it by setting her on fire?”
“Somethinghe wanted or someone.”
Someone. A blood-servant he wanted? An introduction? I mused, “Joses wanted to possess the Ming twins way back when. They were turned by their master to keep them out of his hands. Then just before the Heir shows up here, Ming of Knoxville sends Long-Knife to me.” I poured a third cup of tea and added sugar to the mug, stirring with a fancy silver spoon. “Any connection between the Mings and Soledad?”
“Not that anyone still undead has said,” Bruiser said. “And Long-Knife was unlikely to have been alive back then.”
