Mercy Blade (Jane Yellowrock #3)

Mercy Blade (Jane Yellowrock #3) Page 41

“I don’t know.”

“You say that like she’s on your shit list. You like the boy toy, right?”

I took a breath to keep from telling him to mind his own business. Once you contract with Reach, you and everything in your life is his business. “The cityscape is New Orleans. Using it, you ought to be able to give me a search grid for the hotel; even better if you save me time and just tell me the address.”

“What. You want me to do all your work for you? I’m not psychic.”

I was beginning to wonder. “See if you can estimate if any of the incoming or outgoing cell calls triangulate with the grid of the hotel address.”

“Dayum girl, you are loaded. What you been dealing in—drugs or sex slaves?” I figured he had just seen my savings account balance. He answered himself, “Never mind. I don’t want to know. This job sounds like fun.” I heard sounds in the background as Reach finished pulling up his arsenal of hacking and tracking systems. “Maybe I’ll only charge you the usual fee instead of double.”

“You sweet-talking devil, you.” I closed the cell and tucked it into a pocket, kicked Bitsa on, and roared off.

I made it to vamp HQ in time for breakfast—human blood-servant breakfast, not vamp breakfast, which probably took place at dusk, involved fangs, and did not require cooking. The headquarters’ chef put on quite a spread, with a dozen meats, eggs, pancakes, beignets dusted with powdered sugar, biscuits, waffles, pastries, crepes filled with whipped confections, and chicory coffee with cream. I wasn’t much of a coffee drinker but I poured a mug and filled a plate and sat with Wrassler, who looked at my plate, looked at my stomach, and chuckled.

I ate in silence for a while, pausing with a forkful of bacon and egg casserole halfway to my mouth when Wrassler said, “You know what I like about you, Legs?”

I grunted and took the bite. I had a feeling that the moniker, Legs, was gonna stick to me.

“You eat like a man, fight like a man, and think like a man. But you still manage to have woman stamped across your chest. Figuratively speaking. I love the leather look.”

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 façades. “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.

We sat through forty minutes of digital security footage, twelve screens running simultaneously. The room we were in was near the kitchen, cramped, with poor ventilation; it would have caused panic attacks in a claustrophobe, but was suitable for our needs. It had three chairs in a space built for one, a small table, and the monitor. I got refills on my breakfast—a rasher of bacon and crepes filled with some vanilla-flavored whipped cream stuff that was to die for. Gee got some fancy French wine he wanted, and Wrassler had biscuits and sausage. Good breakfast. Better footage. Midway through, the footage from an outdoor camera caught my eye. I said, “Stop screen number eight. Back it up. Stop. Right there. Play.”

On the screen, a man in dark clothing had been filmed walking along the perimeter of the outer wall. When a woman appeared, as if by magic, he stopped. They chatted. Then they both disappeared. Neither of my companions said anything, but the room seemed to grow warmer and the air heavier. “Again,” I said. When it finished the replay, I said, “Again. Slower. Half time.” And on the fourth go round, I said, “Quarter time. And when the girl appears, I want you to back up frame-by-frame until we see her appear, then a frame-by-frame forward progression.” No one argued.The digital footage progressed at quarter time. “Now,” I said, sitting forward in my seat, hands laced, food forgotten. The camera shot was of an outer wall, a side street running along vamp HQ. The man walked. The girl appeared. It was Safia. Frame by frame, we watched as the digital footage was backed up. She had seemed to appear out of thin air, but actually stepped from a doorway in the outer brick wall, a section of the wall that slid open and closed faster than a human eye could follow. Only a supe could have made it through the opening in the time it was ajar. Anyone else would have been chopped in two when it closed, or at least trapped in the crack and squeezed. Safia had exited a hidden entrance in the vamp council house’s outer wall, and when the couple disappeared, they went back through it, the man pulled along at warp speed. According to the time stamp on the footage, that man had been with Safia after she disappeared, but before she was killed. The progression was stopped on one frame that displayed both faces.