I accepted a coffee refill from the waiter, topped the cup off with cream, and drank down half a mug. It was smoother than I had anticipated. “Thanks. I want to see the security video of the outside grounds the night of the party.”
Wrassler pushed back his chair. “Bring your plate.”
I started to stand and caught a faint whiff of pine to my left. Still rising, knees bent, I whirled. Caught the waiter with my left forearm against his throat. Slammed my right fist into his middle. He flew five feet and hit the wall. Before he finished his oof of pain, I was on him, yanking him to the floor and dropping onto him, a vamp-killer at his throat. Shock flashed through me when I focused on the man I had just assaulted. He was blond and green-eyed. Then I caught a second whiff of pine, this time suffused with jasmine, and I shook off the fear that I had grabbed a real waiter. “Howdy, Gee. Thought I smelled you.”
He sucked a breath and I saw a flash of blue at the edges of my vision. I pressed the vamp-killer against his throat and a thin line of blood welled. “If I get even a hint you might be spelling me, I’ll cut your throat.” The blue faded and I instantly felt clearer headed. “Drop the glamour.”
“Jane? What’s with you and Gerald?” Wrassler asked, his voice behind me.
“He’s hiding behind a glamour. His name is Girrard DiMercy, and he used to be Leo’s Mercy Blade. He’s been hanging around the place for a few days now, glamoured.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Wrassler said. “Some of the older ones talk about him. And not in a good way.”
Older ones . . . Older blood-servants. Got it. I shook the waiter, letting the blade mark him a bit. Blood trailed around his neck, looking thin in the light. “I said, ‘drop the glamour.’”
“All of them?”
That sounded scary. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what was really underneath his charming fa?ades. “How about leaving the one of you as a wolf-killer in place. But keep your magics to yourself while you alter your appearance. Any trace of it on my skin is gonna hurt you.” I twisted my fist in his clothes to secure him. His eyes laughed at me, as if he found the hold amusing.
His skin blued for a moment and his features seemed to flatten out. I felt the electric discharge of magic under the flesh of my hands, and something seemed to coil beneath my knee on his stomach. I bared my human teeth at him, just in case he was getting ready to try something. The face I knew as Girrard DiMercy appeared, still laughing at me.
I didn’t know if the old tales of supernatural creatures being unable to break their word was true or not. The myth was likely European and I wasn’t part of that tradition—I could lie, though not well. I took a chance. “Your word that you will not change or alter shape during our conversation, will not attempt to harm or spell me or any others here, that you will not attempt to change your glamour, and that you will not attempt to escape. Repeat it.”
Girrard smiled, a guileless, winsome smile that made me want to release him. So I tightened my fist in his clothes. He sighed and repeated my promise, which was as lieproof as I could make it. Then he added, “For the next ten minutes.”
“Thirty,” I bargained.
“Thirty,” he agreed. “Now please get off my torse.” It was close enough to torso and I stood, bringing him to his feet with me.
Wrassler was standing to the side of my field of view, frowning, menacing in his bulk. “What is he and how did he get in here?”
I looked at Gee, who upturned a palm, as if to say that the question was foolish and not deserving of an answer. I should have forced a promise from him to answer all questions. “I don’t know what kind of supernat he is, but I can guess.” Gee looked at me in surprise. “Elf.”
Gee brushed his hand along his clothes as if to smooth out any wrinkles. “Such a plebian, mundane name for a being such as I.” Which could mean he was an elf, or not.
“He spells people to not see him, and he can change his face to look like others. Even when he’s caught on film.”
“Shape-shifter?” Wrassler asked.
“No. Spells. And not witch magic. I don’t know what he is, but I have a feeling that he’s been playing with my memory, and that I’ve seen him or smelled him a few times already.” At Wrassler’s confused look, I said, “He smells like pine and flowers. Like toilet bowl cleaner and cheap perfume.”
Gee wrenched against my hold, insult on his face. And I laughed, baiting him, hoping ire might show me what was going on inside his head. But Gee calmed immediately. “You play games. Beware playing games with one such as I.”
“I’m just playing the game you already started. Do you know who killed Safia?”
“No. Boring question.”
“Do you know who didn’t kill her?”
Gee laughed, the sound carefree and childlike. “Much better question. Leo Pellissier did not. George Dumas did not.” When I didn’t reply, didn’t react outwardly, he said, “I know that Safia was shot before her throat was torn out. I know that a man was with her, before anyone else, even the unfortunate Katherine.”
“Did you put photos into my mail slot?”
“Why would I do such a thing?”
Not a no. Not a yes. “Because you want to see the vamps and weres be good buddies.” He didn’t reply. Frustrated, I said, “I want to see the security footage, Wrassler, and I want him close by. You got a secure room with one of the big multiscreen monitors?”
“Yeah. Tyler might not want you to know about it, but he can skewer me later.”
“May I watch this skewering?” Gee asked, making it sound lascivious.
I rolled my eyes and hauled Gee next to me. He was shorter than I was, slimmer than I was. And as well armed as I was; I could feel blades sheathed in his clothing. I figured I’d better add to his pledge. “One more guarantee, Gee. If you promise to raise no weapons against me, neither magical, physical, bladed, nor explosive-based, during the thirty-minute time frame already agreed upon, I’ll promise the same to you.”
“Done.”
“Let’s go to the movies,” I said to Wrassler.