Black Arts: A Jane Yellowrock Novel

Edmund smiled slightly and, with a dry tone, said, “I believe I can manage.”

 

 

I nodded and stepped into the hallway. Edmund was an old vamp, and I could feel his power as he pulled it up and around him, icy prickles, like spikes of frozen air. He stood about five-seven or -eight, slight of body, with hazel eyes that seemed to give off a pleasant vibe, like that of a history professor. Nonthreatening. But if his power signature was anything to go by, his body was no indication of his ability. I wondered how he had lost to Bettina, who was powerful, but not nearly as old as I felt Edmund might be. I looked back at him and wondered. Would a vamp deliberately lose a blood-challenge? Questions for later, which I was sure he wouldn’t answer. I checked my papers.

 

“I’m ready to talk to the prisoners,” I said to Wrassler. Silent, he led the way.

 

The first blood-servant was listed as Imogene, who worked as a housekeeper, and had been placed in a comfortable room, like a sitting room, with a sofa and chairs and a small table. When we entered the room, she backed against the wall, her pulse beating hard in her throat, the whites of her eyes showing in terror. She stank of fear sweat. And I felt like an ass.

 

I blew out a breath of revulsion. My reasons for terrifying people were all valid. And all wrong. Still sighing, I plopped into a chair and gestured to the security twin to close the door. “Sit down, Ed, Del.” While they were trying to figure out if I was being serious or giving them a hidden command to do something else, I asked, “Imogene, do you know who I am?”

 

She nodded once. “The vampire killer.”

 

“Yeah. Among other things. One of Clan Arceneau’s people attacked me tonight.” Her fear stink spiked. “Did you know I was going to be attacked?”

 

“Nonononono.” Her head shook back and forth as fast as her denials.

 

“Did you know anyone was going to be attacked?”

 

“Nonononono.” Imogene put her hands behind her body. As if hiding them. Or as if proving that her hands were not involved in any plot.

 

Prey, Beast thought at me.

 

“Hmmm.” I thought of how to phrase my questions to allow no opportunity for lying by omission or phrasing. “Were you made aware of any plans to attack anyone, anywhere?”

 

“Nonononono.”

 

“Have you had any contact with Adrianna since you came to the HQ?”

 

“No. It’s not permitted.”

 

I sat up straight and gave her a little “tell me more” gesture.

 

“We’re here as part of security measures, part of proving loyalty to our master’s master. We don’t call home. We don’t talk with anyone during our stay and service here.”

 

I turned that over in my mind and checked to see how long the Arceneau servants had been in the council home. It was two weeks. So if an order or a hidden compulsion had gone out to kill me, it was a long-standing order, one put in place weeks ago. The timelines were not quite right. Compulsions didn’t usually last weeks without reinforcing.

 

I asked Imogene, “Did you have any sense or hint of anything wrong, or of anyone doing something against the Master of the City or his sworn servants?”

 

Her mouth turned down. “You mean like ESP or mind reading? Or body language or something? Or like they had been given a compulsion to kill you or something?”

 

“Yes. Anything.”

 

“No. But . . . Louise said she had a bad feeling about the new security guys.”

 

I looked at my list. Louise was two rooms down. And the two new security guys had to be the tattooed duo. I clicked on their personnel files. Hawk Head and Tattoo Dude had joined Clan Arceneau only two months ago, and according to their dossiers, they both had previous prison records, with assault, assault with a deadly weapon, assault with intent to kill, B&E, home invasion, and attempted murder between them. So the one who said he had prison security experience had meant from the inside, a totally different interpretation from what I had wanted. The lie by itself wasn’t definite indication of current evil deeds, but it wasn’t a rousing endorsement of high-minded actions either. And not the type of blood-servants vamps usually wanted. Trained mercenaries, yeah. Street thugs, no.

 

“Okay. Imogene, I’ll have a meal sent in. I want you to relax. Thank you for sharing your worries with me.” Her mouth formed a small O of surprise as I stood and left the room, my muscle behind me. In the hallway, Edmund and Del both stared at me in surprise. “What? You thought I was going to hurt her?” I shook my head and led the way to Louise’s room, where I knocked and entered.

 

That went pretty much like the last interview, except when I asked the question “Louise, did you have any sense or hint of anything wrong, or of anyone doing something against the Master of the City or his sworn servants?”

 

Her head shook no, and then bobbed yes. “The new men had weapons.”

 

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