There had been a vamp of color, Fran?ois-Dominique Toussaint Louverture. He had turned some of the discontented and helped plot one of the major uprisings. It had taken years, and it was brutal, on both sides. Three of the surviving vampire clans, including some who practiced blood magic, came to Louisiana in 1791, upsetting the local political scene.
They had traveled on Shoffru’s boats, the Ring Leader and the Lady’s Virtue. Had the Damours turned Jack? Was he a vamp when he worked with Lafitte? So what did an old vamp want with working girls? Was it possible that he had been friends with the Damours and wanted revenge for their deaths? If so, how had he figured out that I had helped kill them? Nothing made sense. Nothing connected. Nothing.
I checked my e-mail, and I saw notes from Eli and the Kid. Eli had talked to some of the waitstaff at Guilbeau’s and discovered who had given the party, the one from which Bliss and Rachael had left and then vanished. The host’s name was unknown, definitely not a local vamp, and not a familiar local blood-servant either. I set him and the Kid to working on IDing him. Or her. It was hard to know gender with a name like Bancym M’lareil, and there was nothing in a quick Internet search.
The Kid had info on the local vamps and humans that Troll had ID’d, on the security footage leaving the party. Troll had also sent the Kid a text that the other humans who had gotten sick had all attended the vamp party in Guilbeau’s. Something had happened at the party that had made humans sick, but it wasn’t like the vamp plague that had attacked both vamps and the humans they fed from. And I still didn’t know how that related to the girls disappearing. Unless they were sick somewhere and not able to call for help? We had also discovered that the ashed-to-death vamps had attended the party. Something had happened at the party, and I needed to know what.
None of the people on the security footage had anything against Katie, Leo, or me, so far as Alex had been able to detect, so I created a note asking about info on the night in question—a formal one for the vamps and a much more casual note for the humans. But I signed both kinds of notes “The Enforcer, Jane Yellowrock.” I cross-referenced my files for the vamps and humans who had e-mail addys and sent these notes out right away, then created printed notes for the Luddites and addressed them for snail mail. I really wanted to make an in-person visit while wearing enough weapons to start a small war, but there were too many names on the list to risk that. And even if I managed to find the right lair and locate the girls, a frontal assault would likely get them killed. When I left my room, I discovered a gift-wrapped box outside my door—gold foil paper with a bloodred ribbon. I picked it up and carried it to the front room, holding it up in question. Without looking up from his tablets, the Kid said, “Delivery. Special messenger. Card on the side.”
And so there was—in a matching gold envelope. I pulled the card free and read the fancy old-fashioned script, For my Enforcer. To replace that which you lost in my service. Leo.
I thought about refusing—I always thought about refusing Leo’s prezzies. But he considered it an obligation to replace things lost in his service, and who was I to keep him from giving me what he thought was just compensation? Besides, he always gave totally superlative top-of-the-line gifts. I curled on the couch between the children—who were watching a movie, natch—and unwrapped the box. On the other side of the paper was a Lucchese boot box. From the size and weight it was boots, not mules or ankle boots or shoes. Delayed gratification was best, but I didn’t have the constitution for that crap.
I opened the box and peeled back the paper to reveal boots. Black leather with green leaves and gold mountain lions embossed on the shafts. These were hand-constructed, hand-tooled, hand-stitched, hand-everything Lucchese Classics, and they went for around three thousand bucks a pair. Cooing like some kind of girly girl, I lifted them out, the goat leather supple and softer than any piece of leather had any right to be. I removed the stuffing paper from the shafts and slid the boots on. “Holy Pan-hide, Batman,” I whispered. They fit perfectly. I was sure I’d never take them off again.
Still wearing the boots, I curled on the couch, half dozing, Angie Baby on my lap, and EJ now on the floor making “Bhupppp” noises with his lips as he pushed a toy truck around the floor. The Disney movie was playing softly. The Truebloods had a huge collection of kiddie movies.
I must have slept because when I nodded awake again, the Kid was no longer alone working at his table in the corner, running electronic searches. He now had a student. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes to make sure I was seeing what my eyes said I was seeing. Tia was a working girl from Katie’s and she was currently bent over Alex’s shoulder, listening to him talk computer. She was also making the Kid crazy, but that was another story.