"No. She eats first," Mol said sharply. "Look at her. She's about to drop."
I lifted my spoon and shoveled in the stew. Intellectually, I knew it was good, but it could have been ashes for all I cared. I ate mechanically, emptying my bowl in minutes. Snubbing the salad, I took four biscuits and placed them on the bread plate, dumped honey and butter on them, and applied the spoon to them too. When I was finished, Molly brought me another bowl of stew. And then another. I was eating as tears rolled down my face, and I realized that none of the others was eating at all. They were watching me. When I finished my third bowl, I sighed and pushed away the empty dishes. Without looking at any of them, I wiped my face, took my tea mug in hand, and started talking. I told the tale. All of it except the parts about Beast; I took credit for her contributions and for once she didn't seem to mind.
As I ate, Evangelina told about the witch coven she had visited. They had claimed they knew nothing about the attack on my house, but there were inconsistencies in the story they told, and Evangelina could tell they were keeping things back. Also, only three members met with her, when there were supposed to be five adult members in the coven. So something was hinky, not that Evangelina would ever use such a term.
Before she finished, while I was still eating, a knock sounded and Rick opened the side door. I'd heard his Kow-bike and knew he was coming. I introduced him around and Evangelina dished him up a bowl of stew.
He sat and dug into the food; halted with mouth full, chewed, and swallowed. "Dang, this is good." He looked at Evangelina. "You cook this?" When she nodded, he looked at me and said, "No offense, but our date's off. I have to marry her." My tears had dried and I twitched a strained smile. He was trying to lighten an impossibly dark situation, and I appreciated that. Not that it would work. He went back to the stew, dipping a biscuit into it and sopping up the juice. He also changed the subject.
"I got news from the files. I spotted something when I was photocopying the witch and vampire files." Too involved with the meal, Rick didn't notice the intense interest of the three witches at the table. I was pretty sure he knew Molly was a witch, but not the others.
"That witch vamp Renee and her husband were once--when they all were human--the owners of the clan's blood-master, Bettina." My mouth fell open. Rick grinned at my reaction. "Bettina was sold by Tristan Damours in 1770 to a vamp madame named Bethany who shipped her to New Orleans and put her to work as a sex slave in the Quarter. Bettina had a gift for satisfying customers and she and Bethany ran a successful business."
Bethany had owned slaves? I shook my head, wondering about the rift between Bethany and Sabina during the Civil War. If it hadn't been about slaves . . .
"Later she got sick--I talked to a nurse I know and he thinks it sounds like the clap. Bettina was turned at Bethany's request to save her life." Rick pulled papers from his leather jacket and passed them to me. I took the pages, opening them to expose a photo of Bettina, decked out in the clothes of a soiled dove, a corset, pantaloons, and a shawl.
"Bethany didn't turn her?" Evangelina asked.
"No. She's out-clan, and no out-clan can turn a human. They can't offer safety during the chained years, so they can't turn anyone. No protection. And at the time, the info of the Rousseau curse of insanity was still a secret. When he was asked, the Rousseau master agreed to turn her and adopt her into his clan."
He turned a page and pointed to a line written in a flowery cursive script. "Bettina was set free by accident, here in New Orleans--no one says what kind of accident--when she was still rogue. She went hunting for the Damours to kill them. She failed. When Bettina became blood-master of her clan, she had power over Renee and tried to kill the long-chained Damours. Renee stopped her. No record of how."
He stuffed half a flaky biscuit into his mouth and talked through it. "Bettina is our way in. We need to talk to her. If we can find her."
I felt a vibration and opened my cell. It was Derek Lee. "Yeah?"
"I'm out front. Take these pictures. They give my men the willies."
"How many did you get?"
"All of them."
"Who came when we got out of there? Cops?" I didn't look at Rick, but he was looking at me, speculation in his gaze as he ate.
"No cops. Human blood-servants and slaves. I left a man watching from across the street. They're loading the long-chained ones into an eighteen-wheeler. Cleaning out the place. My man'll get a tracking transmitter on it if at all possible. That's what you meant by using them as bait, isn't it?"
I could hear the grin in his words. "Thanks."