We were still watching the footage, the Kid trying to sharpen the digital images, and taking off still shots, when the knock came. I walked through the house, opened the front door, and said, “Come on in, Sugar Lips.”
Troll grunted and moved past me, his bald head catching the foyer lights, his eyes taking in the repairs. “Whatever it is, Katie ain’t paying for it.”
“I know. My nickel.” I closed the door and he followed me into the living room. I introduced Big Evan and Troll, and the two huge men sized each other up. I just hoped the floor joists held.
“Molly’s husband?” Troll asked.
“The same,” Evan said.
“You’re the one who made the spell for Rick—my nephew a couple generations back. I owe you one.”
“Nothing owed. Blood-servant for Katie?”
“Primo.” The guys bumped fists and Troll pointed to the back windows, now covered with plywood. “Your work?”
“I thought my wife had left me and come here.”
“Jane don’t swing that way.”
“That’s not— Never mind. Jane is helping me find my wife.”
“Good. I like Molly. Met her when she was visiting. She didn’t look down her nose at my girls. I like that. High-class lady, your wife. If I hear anything about her, I’ll let you know.”
They bumped fists again and I made a little roll-’em motion at the Kid. The footage started. “We want to know the names of the vamps and humans leaving the restaurant, and the name of the driver of the car they got into.” I handed him a spare spiral pad and a pen.
Troll started taking notes as human-shaped forms left the restaurant. Twice he asked to see a section again, and several times he pointed to heads and said, “Don’t know ’em.” But his list of names was twelve long by the time we reached the section of the girls leaving the restaurant and getting into a black cab limo. He watched that part four times before he finally said, “I don’t recognize the driver, which I should if he drives for a vamp. And that isn’t a regular licensed driver either. The car is personally owned.” He pointed to something attached to the dash and said, “Radar detector. They’re legal in the state, but no company allows them in their cars, and if a driver had one he plugged in, why have it in the city? Makes no sense. More importantly, these are heads.” He tapped the screen and I studied what I had thought were shadows. They were sitting in the seat facing back, and while they were indistinct, we could see Rachael and Bliss clearly. Bliss’ eyes were wide and her mouth was in a little O of surprise and delight. Rachael was laughing. “There were people already in the car. People they recognized and felt safe with.” He sounded long-suffering.
His girls had gone off the reservation, to use a U.S. government line about my people. I let one side of my mouth rise with relief. “They weren’t taken against their will,” I said. “Good. We’ll keep looking, but I’m guessing they got an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
“Yeah.” He breathed out the word. “Someone at the party offered them something they wanted. It didn’t have to be money either. Bliss and Rachael have been making noise about signing on for full-time service.” At my blank look, Troll said, “Becoming full-time blood-servants to one master rather than working for Katie. They got money. Katie makes sure they have excellent financial portfolios. So whatever they were offered, it had to be worth stiffing Katie. She’ll be”—he looked around the room to make sure there were no children present—“pissed. Sorry, Janie, but she will be.”
I shrugged. Living with the Younger brothers was making me inured to mild profanities and minor vulgarities. “We’ll keep looking, but it goes to the back burner unless we learn something else.”
“Yeah.” Troll stood and looked around, as if thinking. “One other thing. Probably not related. Two of the humans in the footage are blood-slaves looking for a permanent master. “They’re both sick today, along with four others in the city.”
“Sick?” I asked. Blood-slaves, like blood-servants, didn’t get sick. Vamp blood kept them healthy, though it also kept them blood-drunk and passed around to be dinner and sex toys among vamps. “Sick how?”
“Fever. Malaise. Leo sent them to his vamps for healing. But . . .”
“But it’s weird,” I said.
“Yeah. Weird.” Before I could ask, he added, “I’ll find out if they all went to the party.” Troll lumbered to the front door. “Later, y’all. And get this fixed.” He pointed to the covered window. “You already put Katie on the bad side of the New Orleans Vieux Carré Commission with your last construction and repairs.” He let himself out.
I looked at Eli and explained, “Historical commission. I fixed the door last time and it didn’t match up perfectly and eventually Katie had to pay a fine, even though we matched the door to the oldest photos of the house.”
“Last time?” he asked.