Death's Mistress (Dorina Basarab, #2)(118)
“You’re talking about the luduan.”
“Yes. I offered him a deal. I’d pay his debts if he switched the rune for a fake when he examined it.”
“And once the fey found out and tracked him down?”
“That was his problem. But he could always deny it. There was no way anyone was going to know where, exactly, it went missing.”
“Why were you at Ray’s, if you already had a plan in place?”
This time, he didn’t budge. “I wanted to make sure he didn’t double-cross me. The stone was worth considerably more than I was paying on his debts. I didn’t trust him.”
“What happened?”
“My men and I surrounded the building, and the luduan went in. He was supposed to bring me the rune, but he never came back. I finally sent one of my boys in to check on things, and he found the luduan gone and Raymond screaming about a dead fey. I decided it might be prudent to leave at that point.”
“You’re telling me a luduan killed a fey warrior?”
“They’re both fey, and the guard might not have been expecting it.”
“If I were him, and I had something worth a king’s ransom, I’d have been expecting it.”
“Yet someone managed to do it.” He had a point there. “I don’t know if he killed the guard. I don’t know that he has the rune. I only know I don’t. You can tell your lady that.”
“I will. And she may even believe you; Claire’s the trusting type,” I said, standing up and tucking my card under a corner of his blotter. “Unfortunately, her family isn’t, and they’ll be here tomorrow. Knowing Caedmon, he may decide to find the rune in the most efficient way possible.”
“And what would that be?”
I shrugged. “Attack everyone who was at the auction and see who doesn’t die.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Five minutes later, I hit the sidewalk in front of Geminus’s building. Not literally, this time; he hadn’t thrown me out, but he also hadn’t admitted a damn thing. Leaving me hours away from the trial and fresh out of ideas.
Two silent shadows peeled off the bricks and followed me as I headed down the street. They didn’t say anything, including asking about what had happened upstairs. Of course, my cursing had probably already told them it wasn’t good.
I leaned against the side of a building a few blocks over and lit the crumpled old joint I found in my jacket. Sucking in a long breath, I held it for a second before letting it out. Drugs don’t do a lot for me thanks to my revved-up metabolism, but they’re better than nothing. And this was excellent weed.
After a moment the wave hit, lifting my bones away from one another and loosening the joints in sequence—neck, shoulders, wrists, fingers—leaving me feeling like I was floating on the tide. The tension washed out of me from spine to fingertips before coursing away, leaving me calmer, if not any happier.
Not that I needed to be calmer. That little scene with Geminus had disturbed me, but probably not for the reason he’d intended. It wasn’t the first time I’d been assaulted; it was, however, one of only two times in my life I could remember really wanting to fall into a dhampir rage and being unable to do so.
The other had been yesterday, whensubrand attacked.
I should have been able to break Geminus’s hold, at least long enough to give me a chance to get my weapons. And when I stabbedsubrand, it should have been somewhere vital. Instead, they’d both made me look like a fool, and I strongly suspected I knew why.
The fey wine had seemed like a godsend, but I should have known better. Everything that came out of Faerie looked better, prettier, more enticing than it really was. It glittered like gold, but scratch the surface and what was revealed was a lot darker. So I was left with a choice: take the wine and put up with memories I didn’t want and a substantial power loss, or don’t take it and suffer homicidal blackouts.
Wonderful.
The clock ticking steadily inside my head wasn’t helping my mood, either. Geminus had my number, but he hadn’t used it. Either he really didn’t have the stone or he was cocky enough to believe he could take on the fey. That left no one on the party list who wasn’t dead or buttoned down tight. At least as far as I was concerned. Caedmon might have more luck, but he wasn’t here. And by the time he arrived, Louis-Cesare would have been sentenced and possibly executed.
Marlowe had been right: something needed to shake loose, and it needed to happen now.
I hailed a cab. There was one person who hadn’t been on the list who might know something. I’d already had my daily quota of ancient vampires with attitude problems who weren’t going to tell me shit. But talking to Anthony beat doing nothing.
Although not by much.
A yellow taxi slid to a stop in front of me, and the silent duo got inside. I started to do the same when my phone rang. “Yeah?”
“Who the hell taught you how to answer the phone?” a brisk voice asked.
I wasn’t sure I recognized it; the weather was overcast and the signal was lousy. “Fin?”
“The one and only. You still interested in that deadbeat?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because he just showed up at his apartment. My boys are downstairs. If you want to talk to him before they take him apart, now would be the time.