God help us. We had a bloodpawn on our hands. No wonder the guy was sweating so hard. It wasn’t his size or the heat—it was the addiction, the dude going through withdrawals for another taste of vamp blood.
People like this slimy sycophant went out of their way to kiss a lot of vampire ass in the hopes of one day receiving an invitation to join their exclusive club. They just sort of milled around and stank up circles catering to the rich and blood-sucking elite with the smell of sweat and bad cologne until they died of old age or someone took enough pity on them to initiate the change.
As most vampires were allotted a small, finite number of bloodkin throughout their lifetime, no one wanted to spend it on a useless flunky. They saved it for lovers, close friends, and allies who actually meant something. According to Victor and everything I’d learned about their kind in school, vampires monitored their population very closely. Nobody was going to waste their golden ticket of immortality on a dude who smelled like ball sweat and Aqua Velva at four in the afternoon. He must have been one hell of a lawyer for Aguillard to retain him.
The argument ended when Jolene threatened to arrest him for obstruction of a government agent. After that, our team barreled inside and forced the staff off the premises. A big werewolf guy barked out orders, then he and his partner transformed and jogged off to sniff around the perimeter. As Jolene’s assistants, we trailed behind her and another wolf on our way to the office.
Sky fell back a few steps to walk alongside me, whispering, “What are they doing?”
“That’s the local STAR Unit.”
“Oh!”
Members of a field office’s Scenting, Tracking, and Retrieval Unit spent years honing their sense of smell. They only took the werewolves with the largest smell banks, preferring shifters with a large capacity for remembering scents. They ran the farthest and the longest during a pursuit and could pick up trails submerged in water. Some of those guys could recognize a smell they picked up years ago.
“Right now, they’re looking for the scent of someone we’ve missed.”
“A stranger.”
“Yeah. Though I wouldn’t put money on it being a stranger who took her. It was someone who knew her. So they’ll look for patterns. Strange and unusual visitors, residents on the staff in places they shouldn’t be. Our interviews gave a clear picture of who worked in which areas of the estate.”
Sky’s eyes lit with understanding. “Right. Her maid said Aguillard didn’t permit anyone else into the office to clean. She didn’t even let Charles inside. Valeria only entered when her mistress was inside. She also mentioned that her mistress never hosted guests inside that room. Visitors received an escort to the Green Room to meet her.”
“You two are pretty bright for rookies. Well. I guess only one of you is the rookie, huh?” Jolene called over a shoulder. She stepped into the room and tapped her staff on the floor. Power surged from the point of impact in a golden-red wave. “All right. Protective spells disabled. While they give it the smell test, we’re looking for a Rite of Succession. It’ll say that at the top, and the document will be on old-fashioned parchment. Probably sheep skin.”
“I’ll take this filing cabinet,” Sky said.
“I got the desk.” I crouched beside the lowest drawer and pulled it open.
Half an hour later, after we’d thoroughly tossed the room and rummaged through every inch, Jolene led us on a search to find the vault. Thankfully, Skylar had coaxed that information from Aguillard’s Venezuelan maid.
“Through her room and in the closet. The door should be at the back,” Sky directed.
Closet was too tame a word for the room we walked into. Half as large as the enormous bedroom, the closet looked more like a high-end department store. She even had a rack of men’s clothes.
The vault door looked fairly standard: brushed steel with gold filigree, a spoked turn handle, and a combination lock.
“So what do we do in this situation?” Sky asked. “I mean, are we allowed to go into someone’s vault?”
“When that someone is a homicide victim, yes.” Douglas looked over and winked at my girlfriend, but no insane urge to bite his head off came over me. Iiiiinteresting. “Jolene will take a shot at it…sometime this year.”
“I will if you shut up so I can think,” the mage grumbled back at him, but her eyes shone with humor rather than disdain. I’d noticed their tendency to bait one another for fun during the drive, which made things less awkward. Not all partners bantered. Some were super professional and never said a word to one another beyond the job.
Douglas rolled his eyes at her, but he kept quiet and turned his attention to the shelf full of shoes to his left. How many heels did one woman need? The baroness had every color I could imagine, in varying styles. It led me to wonder how many shoes Skylar owned. I didn’t take her for the high maintenance type of chick, but I hadn’t gone snooping through her room back in Virginia, either.
Then again, the past two years at PNRU had taught me she preferred sneakers over everything else. In fact, I was pretty sure the few times I’d seen her in heels, she’d really just glamoured her sneakers to appear different.
Jolene smacked her hand against the wall. “Fuck.”
Her partner cocked his head. “What?”
“She paid top money for someone to secure this damn thing. Short of finding the original caster, no mage is going to be able to break into this without destroying what’s inside.”
“What about fae magic?”
Jolene swiveled around and blinked at Skylar as if she were seeing her for the first time. She opened her mouth, snapped it back shut, then looked at the vault door again with consideration.
“Whatcha thinking?” she asked.
“I could jinx the lock. If we’re lucky, it should open itself.”
“And if we’re unlucky?”
“It, uh, jams shut and even if we had the combo we wouldn’t get in. I glanced at it through the Twilight and it’s got a line of salt between the layers of the wall to prevent anyone from crossing over that way.”
To her credit, Jolene didn’t dismiss the idea right away. She ran her fingers across the intricate glyphs imprinted on the door and clicked her tongue against her teeth. Then her gaze snapped to me. “Thoughts, Fujimoto?”
“If we do nothing, the vault stays shut and we never find our evidence. If we use forceful magic, according to you we destroy the vault and still don’t get our evidence. By letting Corazzi try, we at least have a chance at success.”
“Agreed. All right, let’s see what you can do.” Jolene moved aside and gestured Skylar to take her place.”
Everyone stepped back to allow Skylar some room. She took a full minute to study the door, even putting her ear against the cool metal while turning the dial back and forth a few times. Then she pulled her wand and Dream Box from the Neverspace.
I’d asked her once what she kept in her box, but she’d shyly deflected the question and mumbled something about keepsakes before changing the subject. You see, all fae carried a Dream Box, and they filled it with their faerie dust as well as their most valued treasures. But those treasures weren’t money and jewels. They didn’t hoard gemstones or shit like that. They lifted things from the people who meant the most to them and stashed those objects in their Dream Box, gaining strength from the fondness we held for our belongings.
I wondered what she’d taken from me that I never noticed missing.
Then I wondered if anything of mine was in there at all.
Glittering motes of gold and pink swirled from the box, joining the cobalt glow from her wand. She swished the crystalline tool in a wavy sort of circle, guiding her magic with the same finesse as an orchestral conductor.
It was beautiful, and so was she. Whether Sky realized it or not, her wings had come out, shimmering silver, purple, and peach behind her. Everyone watched.
A series of clicks preceded the locking runes flaring green. Wearing a proud smile on her face, Skylar t
urned the handle and tugged the heavy door open.
Jolene smiled and dipped her head in respect. “Nicely done. Guess the baroness didn’t take the fae into consideration.”
“Well, breaking into something like this to steal would blacken a fae’s soul,” Skylar explained. “No one would risk that unless they wanted to go dark. And the fae who want to go dark have more exciting methods of tarnishing their light than a little theft.”
I stepped over and set my hand against her lower back. “A good thing this is for valid work purposes.”
Baroness Aguillard’s vault rivalled my bedroom in size. Shelves stacked floor-to-ceiling lined the wall to our left. Small sculptures, vases, ornamental boxes, books, and other treasures lined the shelves. The back wall displayed over a dozen paintings. To our right, suits of armor on stands stood in front of weapons hanging on the walls. She had an impressive collection, everything from swords to guns, and a Viking axe that would have made Rodrigo weep with envy.
The center of the room featured a Victorian era antique desk, the sort with all the little cubbies and drawers. Two four-drawer filing cabinets flanked either side.
Douglas and Jolene started with the desk, leaving the filing cabinets to me and Sky. The first one I opened was filled back to front with labeled folders detailing her many artwork acquisitions. She had receipts dating back to the sixteen-hundreds.
“Whoa! Catch a look at this. She knew Van Gogh. There’s six commission contracts in here, with notes attached.” I skimmed through the details and passed a stack to Sky. “Flirty ones.”
“Such a shame his godmother turned dark,” Sky murmured. “His downward spiral is one of the first tales we learn about the dangers of muses becoming leanansidhe.”
“Yeah.” A fate that would never befall my girl. Her heart was too pure to ever go dark.
“Got it!” Douglas’s triumphant voice interrupted my thoughts before they could venture any further down that path. He held up a crimson leather folio stamped with the Aguillard house crest.
“Let’s have a look,” Jolene said.
Douglas unwrapped the thong securing the bundle and pulled back the flaps, revealing the neatly penned paperwork within. There it was, dated mere days before her disappearance.
“Jacoby told the truth.” I leaned over his shoulder and skimmed the contents of the front page. “The baroness really was appointing him as her successor. So why’d she wait to bring the paperwork up?”
“Count Pichot is notorious for demanding appointments be set a month in advance unless an emergency is involved,” Jolene explained to us, referring to the vampire elder responsible for the entire state of Louisiana. “The baroness would have had to register the proposed change with him before moving up the aristocratic chain.”
“According to this calendar on her desk, she had a meeting in Baton Rouge next week.” Sky tapped her finger on the entry. “So now what?”
“Now we have an official talk with her son at the SBA. I don’t think he deserves a fancy dinner, do you?”
Sky grinned. “Not at all.”
Folk considered a case serious business when a sentinel chief came down from his office to join the investigation, but it was just another day for my uncle. It had nothing to do with their office being shorthanded, and everything to do with his work ethic. Uncle Hiroto never sat on his ass when there was shit to be done. He and Thibodeaux took the interrogation while Sky and I watched along with Aya from the observation room.
Charles sat in a metal chair with all the dignity he could muster, his old world fashion starkly at odds with the modernized station. Twice, I caught him glancing at the mirror we stood behind.
Then Hiroto and Thib stepped into the room and his attention snapped to them.
“Why am I in this room? I was told you had information and yet I am placed here no differently than a common criminal.”
Hiroto set a single sheet of paper on the table and pushed it across. Charles picked it up and frowned.
“What’s this?” He skimmed the contents and scoffed. “What a joke. My mother left no such document, or I’d be aware of it. Besides, a photocopy proves nothing and could have easily been manufactured.”
“Original copy is safe in the evidence locker where it belongs, Lord Aguillard.”
“Baron Aguillard,” he corrected snidely.
“That remains to be seen,” Hiroto said in a pleasant voice, “until the authenticity of this document can be confirmed.”
Thib glanced at the clock on the wall. “Count Pichot has been faxed the same copy. He’ll be down here to clear up the matter.”
Charles blanched. “I’m certain he’ll agree that this is a terrible waste of his time. I’ll call him myself to assure him his presence is unnecessary.”
“He looks freaked out,” Sky whispered.
“Yeah, for good reason. Count Pichot has a brutal track record of handling matters via the most efficient means, even if it means beheading a few of his own. There’s a reason things feel so relaxed in Louisiana. It’s not laziness—more a sense of being safe.”
“So, not your typical rich aristocrat?”
I snorted. “Oh, I’m sure he’s rich and shit, but he isn’t a spoiled asshole like Charles. Pichot has fought in every war since the American Civil War. The guy’s a soldier. I think he looks forward to having a legitimate excuse to snap off heads and drink blood from the spurting stumps or something without blackening his soul.”
Sky cringed. “Thanks for that colorful visual.”
“Welcome,” I chirped, while Aya chuckled beside me. Our attention went back to the action inside the interrogation room.
Thib leaned forward, palms on the table. “Look. It’s kind of hard for me to believe a guy like you had the stomach to rip apart his own mother.”
“Because I didn’t do it.”
“Someone did. Someone scattered the pieces of her around a swamp like flower petals, and until you give us a name, you’re going down as suspect number one, pal. Who helped you?”
“I had nothing to do with it.” Aguillard looked away, but a deep worry line creased his brows.
“Is your count going to agree with you?” Thib leaned closer. “’Cause last I heard, the guy puts a stake in everything and calls it done, even when there’s a shadow of a doubt. Likes having a clean Louisiana. Shit, I can’t blame him. Up until a few weeks ago we had one, and it was unheard of for a mortal to go missing for more than a couple hours. Sure, we might find them in a blood den having the orgy of a lifetime, but that’s just some good consensual fun, right, Chief?”
“Certainly,” Hiroto agreed. “Then they leave and take stories back to their friends and associates, and the cycle of tourism begins anew. It’s good money for the city.”
“Can’t say the missing daughter of a senator would have the same financial draw.”
My uncle shook his head. “Unfortunately, not. As I understand it, you have less than an hour before Count Pichot’s arrival, Aguillard. Once he arrives, he can order anything done to you, save setting you free on the masses again, if he doesn’t want to trouble the king and queen. That’s why there’s a hierarchy, right?”
Aguillard didn’t reply.
“Work with us, and I can pull some strings. Get you some leniency.”
Thib nodded. “You can make it out of this alive. You might have to stare at stone walls for a century or two, but it’s better than the alternative.”
The baron flinched. “I don’t know anything. Count Pichot will realize that. I didn’t even know that ridiculous piece of paper existed. Someone has set me up.”
“Uh huh. Like you tried to set up Jacoby? Well, good luck with the Sanguine Court then. It’ll be one hell of a trial. Probably televised.” Thib snorted. “The media loves running with stories like this, especially if they can villainize a vampire. Isn’t that right, Chief?”
“Mortal girl gone missing like this, once news gets out, it’ll be a big deal. Even if we don’t dig up enough inf
ormation to convict you—though we will, mind you, because we’re just that good—you’ll be the pariah of the vampire community. We have one chance to recover this girl before the worst happens. If she’s a vampire, maybe that’ll be in your favor, and her father won’t call for tougher laws on your kind. But if she’s a nosferatu and we have to put her down...”
I leaned close to Sky and murmured against her ear, “Uncle Hiroto doesn’t mind offering pleas to vampires if it’ll get them to turn over evidence.”
“I thought vamp homicide was always a staking and burning?”
“Nah. Only when a mortal is involved. For supernatural victims, King Konstantin has been known to show a little leniency toward their kind. Just depends on who you are. Uncle can tell the big guys in charge that Charles cooperated with the investigation. Get him a century or two sealed up in a box or a dark room somewhere.”
Sky’s eyes lit with understanding. “Like Countess Bathory.”
“Exactly. Except when that crazy bitch got released she went on another rampage and had to be staked.” On top of being a psycho who loved bathing in blood and torturing virgins, Countess Erzebet Bathory had also been on the verge of becoming a nosferatu. Not quite there, but close enough to shrink away from the sun and begin losing her hair at the time of her capture. She’d been the first among many to discover a loophole—harming innocents by proxy. Apparently ordering a servant to commit her atrocities didn’t damage the soul as deeply as committing the acts herself.
Thib glanced at the clock again. “Reckon you got about forty minutes to make up your mind—”
Aya pressed the intercom. “Fifteen. Count Pichot is in traffic as we speak and will arrive shortly.”
Sweat beaded on Aguillard’s brow. His gaze darted again to the mirrored window, then he licked his lips. “I want it in writing that I won’t be killed.”
My uncle smiled. “I can do that.”
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