It wasn’t my fault. It also wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t legal in a human court of law. But to a fanghead it was all that and more.
A memory flared through me, my body, flat on my back, held in place by the vampire priestess and Bruiser as Leo bowed over me, fangs extended. The pain as he ripped into me.
Not my fault. Not my fault. But that knowledge was not much help at the moment.
I had been such an idiot, and Leo had used my idiocy to his benefit. Though it might not be my fault, I hadn’t looked before I jumped, flying by the seat of my pants.
Adelaide reached over and took my hand. The contact was a shock, my hands like ice. “She doesn’t know, Leo. She doesn’t understand about the council and the witches.”
Which wasn’t what I was reacting to, but I wasn’t going to share my thoughts. Leo considered me, his eyes narrowed, his face still a thunderstorm. He took a breath he didn’t need and blew it out hard. “That is not a topic to be discussed tonight,” he said to Adelaide. “We have more immediate issues to resolve.”
CHAPTER 12
Do We Call the Police?
Leo went on. “The gather tomorrow night will be for two purposes,” he said, pulling my mind back to the present. “To welcome the applicants from Mexico, and to formally announce to my people the intent of the European Council to visit. The latter is known, of course, but the announcement must be accomplished pro forma. I have also been informed by Raymond Micheika that we are also to receive visitors arriving from Africa. They will be accorded the same respect as the last visitors.”
Though I’d never met the man, I remembered the name. Micheika was a rare African werelion, and was the leader of the International Association of Weres, and the leader of the Party of African Weres—PAW. Surprised, I asked, “Is Kemnebi coming?”
“I was not informed of the identity of the arrivals,” Leo said sourly, “only that three cats were to arrive, along with a grindylow and several servants.”
“So you’ll be housing Mexican vamps and African weres and parading your newest applicants for admission to the NOLA vamps all in one evening.”
Eli chuckled. “That’s a FUBAR waiting to happen.”
“What is a fubar?” Leo asked.
Quesnel, the sommelier, entered through the door before I could reply and started pouring the wine. He held the bottle up high and let it gurgle into the glasses, which I thought was highly entertaining. As Quesnel passed the glasses around, Leo stood, the genial host. “A toast,” he said, lifting a glass. “In honor of my new primo.” He lifted his glass.
And the best part? The MOC was still moving stiffly. I had put a whammy on him. And that part of my night felt really, really good.
? ? ?
Eli, Wrassler, and I spent the rest of the night going over all the security protocols and implementing the changes to the parking area out back. The Kid called in the middle of the meeting and told us he had nothing new to share. It wasn’t a necessary call from an informational standpoint, but it made me feel better to know that someone, somewhere, was still working on finding Molly, Bliss, and Rachael. We were going in circles trying to find them, and I was getting itchy under my skin just thinking about the passing time. The call kept me from screaming. Or lashing out and beating up someone. Neither would be productive.
We were nearly done when Wrassler got a text on his cell. He held up a hand to stop the discussion and dialed a number. “Tell me everything.”
I didn’t need my enhanced hearing to make out that the person on the other end was hysterical, crying, gasping for breath when she wasn’t screaming. “Sonya’s gone! She’s gone! She went to her rooms to change and she never came back!”
I heard screaming in the background. Running feet. Eli looked at me and placed a hand on the blade at his side. I could almost read his thoughts as the other hand touched his chest. No flak jackets. No Kevlar. But all his toys were close at hand. He made a pointing gesture, I nodded, and he trotted off, to get our weapons and bring the vehicle around.
Over the phone, the woman was back, screaming, “We went to check on her. Her clothes are in a pile on the floor, like she just dropped them. Which she never would! She’s so picky about her things. It’s so anal it drives me— Never mind. That doesn’t matter.” I could almost see the girl waving the unimportant away with a frantic hand. “She’s gone. Vanished.”
“Jocelyn, take a deep breath,” Wrassler said. He sounded calming and soothing. “That’s right. Slow down. Take another breath. Good.” I had no idea who Jocelyn or Sonya was, but Wrassler knew, and from his expression he was deeply concerned. “Now, tell me. Was there a pile of ash or grit, like granules of sand, in or near her clothes?”
Jocelyn was shocked silent, and then we heard her take a shaky breath. “How did you know that?”