Flame in the Dark (Soulwood #3)(11)

“Would you walk me through the sequence of events from just before the first shot until the police came?” I asked.

“I was speaking to the senator. I heard a shot. I moved. My security did not deem me as moving fast enough nor far enough away from the violence. She lifted me and moved me faster.” Again there was a wry tone in Ming’s voice. In ordinary circumstances, ones without emotional components, Ming’s voice gave away more than her expressions. “She deposited me in the butler’s pantry. On the floor.” Ming turned her gaze to Yummy.

Yummy looked back at her and, without emotion, said, “You are welcome, my mistress.”

This meant that Yummy could move faster than a master vampire. That was interesting. I wished I could remember Yummy’s real name. Yummy was the nickname given to her by Jane Yellowrock, the vampire hunter who worked for the vampires in New Orleans. I couldn’t remember anything else about Yummy, except that she had been part of Jane’s team the night Jane raided the compound of God’s Cloud of Glory Church to find and save a kidnapped vampire.

Yummy continued, almost as implacable as Ming herself, “There was a fire, my mistress. Mithrans are flammable.”

I nearly choked on the “flammable” comment. Yummy went on.

“You were safe where I placed you. Cai is pleased.” From Yummy’s tone, that subject was now closed. Cai, Ming’s primo blood-servant, was the ultimate authority and Yummy reported to Cai, not Ming. More interesting.

Ming met my eyes again and said, “I remained on the floor until I was helped to my feet by a properly deferential human. I do not know his name but he was wearing a black shirt with brown pants. A name tag hung from his shirt. He assisted me into the kitchen and inquired after my health. He informed me that my scion was injured and was in the dining room. I proceeded there, fed her, and healed her.” She looked at Yummy again. “She is insufferable.”

“I am,” Yummy agreed. “I am also your hero tonight.”

There were a lot of subtexts in this conversation. I pulled it back to the line of questioning and addressed my next question to Yummy. “Is that your blood in the entrance to the dining room?”

“It is,” Yummy said, her eyes on her mistress. “The shots were still striking the house. I shielded two women with my body and got them to safety. I was injured during that time.”

“You could have been killed,” Ming said.

“There was no silver in the bullets. I am strong, healthy, and well fed by my generous and kind mistress,” Yummy drawled, locking eyes with Ming. “I healed well enough to bring others into safety and have them call the cops.”

“How many others?” I asked.

“Ming, the first two women, three men, and two more women. Then the shooting stopped.”

“Did you, at any time, see anyone who might have assisted the shooter?” I asked.

“No,” they both said, more or less in unison.

“Did you hear anything that might suggest that someone inside was part of the attack?”

“No,” they said again.

“Did you smell anything non-human or peculiar before, during, or after the shooting?”

Both hesitated but didn’t glance at each other. “Possibly peculiar,” Ming said, after a moment that stretched too long. “But the river and cove are heavy with scent. Human partygoers wear a disgusting amount of perfume. The fire was odorous.”

Yummy said, “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Have there been any threats against you or the Mithrans of Knoxville?” I asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Yummy repeated. Ming said nothing.

“Will you provide documentation about any of the ordinary threats to PsyLED?”

“Yes,” Yummy said, turning away from her mistress’ eyes.

I finished with my final question. “Ming of Glass. Are you aware that you were standing beside the senator and directly in front of the woman who died? That the first shot is believed to have missed everyone, deflected by the window glass? That you moved in the fraction of a second before the second shot? And that it struck the victim?”

Ming turned her gaze to me, pinning me to the chair. I felt like a bug on some collector’s insect board. Holding this gaze was a lot harder than holding her ordinary gaze. This one made my skin want to crawl. “She died because of me?” Ming asked. “Because I moved? I was the target?”

“We haven’t ruled that out.” I scanned several pages and looked back up, having learned case details for the first time. “Her name was Margaret Clayton Simpson. Did you know her?”

“I knew her grandmother. My clan does business with her husband, with his son, and with a Clayton uncle. I have a scion by the name of Clayton, whom you have met. I did not know Margaret personally except by name and to shake her hand. She feared Mithrans. I do not force my presence on such humans.”

Yummy said, “I knew her name. That’s it. We’re leaving. I have to get my mistress home before dawn, and we’ll just make it.” They both stood and I followed only a half beat behind them.

“Will you contact us if you think of anything more?” I pulled a card from my pocket and handed it to Yummy, who leaned in and accepted it. “Thank you for your time, Ming of Glass.”

“You are welcome, Special Agent Ingram.”