“Good God, Perry! Do you even know what you’re saying?” Mimi cried. Her outburst caused several people in the courtyard to turn in their direction. Mimi glared at them. She wanted to stamp her feet, but she held her emotions in check. She was strong enough to lead an army of angels into battle, but she couldn’t get one foolish Red Blood to see things her way? She decided to try something completely alien to her. “Look, I know what’s going on, I know . . . that just like me, you’re hurting.” There. She’d admitted it.
Oliver continued to sulk, but Mimi pressed on. “I just think that—well, that maybe working on this will stop the pain for a bit. Give you something else to think about.” She ran her hands through her hair in exasperation. “It’s helping me, so maybe it’ll help you. Even just a little.”
Oliver fingered his jacket and sighed. “Well, it would help if you would ask once in a while. Instead of just demanding like you usually do.”
“What do you mean?” Mimi asked, her eyes narrowed.
“I mean, you could ask nicely. You know, instead of threatening and throwing your weight around like some kind of Third World dictator. All you need is the little red cap and the epaulets and the aviators,” he said, waving his hand over her. “You come across like a blond Idi Amin.”
“Who’s he? Never mind. You mean, like, ‘Please, Oliver, will you help me find the traitor?’”
“Exactly.”
Now it was Mimi’s turn to roll her eyes. “Very well. Please, Oliver, will you help me find the traitor?” She felt like a three-year-old scolded by her parents for her lack of manners.
Oliver smiled. “Was it that hard, Mimi? Don’t answer. I know it was. But of course I’d be glad to help, since you asked. What else do I have to do?”
EIGHTEEN
The Usual Suspects
As a rule, Mimi did not enjoy the company of Red Blood boys unless they were tasty. She’d had her fill of quite a few familiars to get through the stressful week. But unless she was chomping on someone’s neck and consuming their blood, she had absolutely no interest in them. So it surprised her to find she did not detest Oliver as much as she thought she would, and that working with him wasn’t the torture she had expected it to be. They had four days left before the crescent moon appeared, and Mimi was relieved to find that, as she had heard, Oliver was a thorough and apt investigator. By the next morning, he had already rounded up the Conduits who had been at Jamie Kip’s party.
Since only a handful of Blue Blood families still kept to the practice, there were only four Conduits in the city who could have attended the party without arousing suspicion from the other guests and pulled off the stunt. Oliver brought each suspect into a small room in the Repository that the Venators used for questioning, while Mimi watched from the other side of the double-sided glass.
Gemma Anderson took a seat across from Oliver. She was Christopher Anderson’s grandniece and Conduit to Stella Van Rensslaer. “What’s all this about?” she asked Oliver. “Stella said you wanted to see me as soon as possible. Have I done anything wrong? Is this about her and Corey? I told her she was draining him dry at the rate she was using. But Stella’s a vamp tramp; she’ll never learn.”
Mimi was shocked at the flippant attitude Gemma displayed toward her betters. Is this what the Conduits said behind their backs? That the Blue Bloods were just a bunch of bloodsuckers? How rude!
“No, this has nothing to do with Corey,” Oliver said. “Although if Stella is found in violation of the Forty-Eight-Hour Rest Period, the Committee will issue a reprimand. They’re not enforcing it currently, as they’ve got bigger things to worry about right now other than Familiar Care issues. This is about Conspiracy business.” He pulled up the video on his laptop and showed it to her.
“Yeah, I’ve seen it, so what? Some doofus vampire decided to show off on the Internet. It was bound to happen once YouTube was invented. Props for the cover-up; everyone I know wants to see Suck. Watch the vampire burn, good one. That’ll scare the kiddies.” Gemma crossed her legs and twitched her ankles impatiently.
Oliver shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter either way. “I understand you were at Jamie’s the night this was filmed?”
That got Gemma’s attention. “That’s from Jamie’s party?” She looked at the screen again. “Oh my God, it is. Yeah, we were there.”
“Did you notice anything unusual?” Oliver asked. “Anyone with a video camera? They’re tiny these days.”
She furrowed her brow and shook her head. “Not really. It all seemed like the usual bloodfest. Vampire shenanigans. Thrills and spills.”
“When was the last time you saw Victoria that night?”