‘Bolton,’ I replied.
Shaun Bolton, also known as John Melton, was Amber DeLea’s estranged father and the erstwhile leader of the Black Coven.
He was also the sole living Domini whose identity I knew. This was my best and only chance to get the jump on them.
He flashed his teeth. ‘And how is my lovely daughter?’
‘She’s well,’ I said. I could give him that much to start a dialogue.
It took effort, though, to swallow down a comment about hisotherdaughter, whose neck he’d coldly snapped the moment she’d become a liability. It was the reminder I needed that I was dealing with someone cold, ruthless and deadly.
‘No visits from the Red Guard, I trust?’ I asked.
The vampyr group was officially dedicated to stamping out evil witches who used blood and death to transform themselves into necromancers. Necromancers could control the dead, and being the walking dead, vampyrs had a vested interest in stopping all witches from sliding down that particular slippery slope.
‘No, you did save me from that. But the outfits here are terrible,’ he joked, shrugging to bring attention to his straitjacket.
‘He kept drawing runes,’ Pritchard whispered to me, ‘with anything he could get his hands on. Mud, blood. He even did it in baked-bean juice once. So now he doesn’t get to use his hands.’
‘He’s in magic-nullifying runes too, no?’
‘Of course. Renewed every two weeks.’
I frowned. ‘Is he present during the renewal?’
Pritchard nodded. ‘He remains here. Usually in isolation except for feeding time.’
He made it sound like Bolton was a zoo animal.
‘Is it the samewitch who comes or does it vary?’
‘It varies. Why?’
‘Just wondering,’ I said mildly. Just wondering if there was an opportunity for an evil witch to slip him something, be it news, gossip or a magical shiv.
‘The witches who come are all highly vetted and screened, all incredibly powerful.’
Powerful. Like the Domini. They were said to be attracted to power like bees to pollen.
‘How does he use the toilet?’ I asked. ‘With his jacket on?’
‘I have a nappy,’ Bolton interjected. ‘Honestly, I’m just so glad you didn’t kill me, Wise.’ The sarcasm in his voice was laid on with a trowel, but I ignored it.
‘He deserves to be able to go to the toilet,’ I said to Pritchard, disgust in my tone.
‘He was allowed until he did a black rune with his excrement.’ Pritchard rubbed his chin. ‘We still haven’t worked out how he lit it up, but he got one guard with it. So now he’s in a straitjacket. You reap what you sow.’
Hard to argue with that, but human rights were a thing for a reason. Even prisoners didn’t deserve to be numbered and treated like cattle. Unease stirred, and my conscience prickled. Everyone here was here because they were vile: killers, rapists. Yet I thought of Broadlake. His hands hadcut me, but he hadn’t been the consciousness behind them. All the same, he’d had nearly two decades here. Mistakes could happen. Mistakesdidhappen.
There was no mistake with this witch though. I’d seen him murder his daughter with my own two eyes, and we’d found plenty of evidence of more crimes.
‘Pritchard,’ I said. ‘Take a stroll. Keep us in sight but be out of hearing range.’
He hesitated before nodding. ‘Erm … yes, Inspector Wise.’ He backed away a few feet, then a few more for good measure.
I turned back to Bolton. ‘I want to talk to you about the Domini.’
He looked absolutely delighted. ‘What do you want to know, Inspector?’
