Flame in the Dark (Soulwood #3)(48)
“Yeah. Walking the edge of the property. Standing long enough in one spot for me to sense it. You wanna tell me what you folks have been up to out here?”
Yummy blew out a breath, one I know she didn’t need, and so it was either muscle memory, emotion, or for effect. “I policed the grounds last night, searching for the attacker, trying to sniff out if it was a Mithran.”
“And what did you smell?”
“The attacker smells neither like Mithran nor like cattle,” she said, her words precise.
It took a moment for me to understand that she meant the shooter didn’t smell like a vampire or human. Vampires drank humans, so they ended up thinking of them as food sources and pets, hence the cattle term. It was as insulting as my maggot term. I decided to ignore it. “Why do you keep asking—worrying—if the shooter is a vampire?” I heard a soft uneven tapping on Yummy’s end, like a fingernail or pen against a hard surface, as if she was thinking.
She sighed again. Definitely for effect. “A small group of Europeans carried out an attack against the Master of the City of New Orleans. There’s been a retaliatory challenge to the European emperor, Titus Flavius Vespasianus, a challenge of Sangre Duello.”
That wasn’t news, nor was it surprising that she should know so much. The surprise came because she shared it so freely. “I’m aware of that. Go on. There’s gonna be a fight.”
“We await the schedule. If Leo Pellissier loses, then all the Mithrans within the borders of the United States and Canada are at risk of extermination.”
That bit was news to me, but Yummy was on a roll, so I let her talk.
“There’ve been whispers that others of the Europeans came ashore during the attack, and found shelter and safety. Rumors that they called those they sired or bound. Mithrans have gone missing.”
“Some of yours?” Yummy didn’t reply to that one. “And you think they might come after you and Ming of Glass, to harm or kill.”
“It’s not an impossibility.”
I debated telling Yummy what we knew about the arson and the shooter. Vamps were flammable, much more so than humans, so the likelihood of the attacker being vampish was not very high. However, she had told me about the situation in New Orleans and her fears for the Knoxville area. Rick would call it quid pro quo. “For your ears only. Would it help if I told you, without question, that the attacker is not a vampire?”
“You’re so certain?”
“Yep. There’s no maggots at any of the sites except yours.”
Yummy gave a low, mocking laugh. “I’m not sure if I’m happy at the information or insulted at the comparison.”
“Whatever it is, he, she, or it burned the foliage everywhere he moved, with what reads like a chemical burn. You ever hear of a creature able to do that?”
“No. Chemicals strong enough to kill foliage might damage a Mithran’s flesh. I have access to Ming’s records. I can do a search.”
“Couldn’t hurt. Might help. If we knew what it was, we might know where to search. Might know when to expect another attack.”
“If I find something pertinent, I will call.”
I almost said thank you, but that might put me in her debt. I settled on, “Any information you might provide could prove useful.”
Yummy laughed again, her tone telling me that she knew exactly why I had phrased it that way, and ended the call.
I wrote a report on my laptop and sent it in. If I failed to mention Yummy and her information about the Mithrans, well, I could consider the vampire a confidential source because nothing she’d said impacted the case at this time. I felt a little guilty, since Rick had told us to share anything about paranormals, but I squished the guilt down, and then ignored the guilt that came from ignoring guilt.
Satisfied, I put the truck in drive and motored on over to my assignment for the night, at the home of Senator Abrams Tolliver. I read the earth there too, and it told me nothing it hadn’t before, except that no maggoty vampire had been stalking the premises.
? ? ?
The investigation went on all night, and I kept up with it on my government-issued encrypted cell phone, reading files and reports, in between walking rounds with the feds and the Secret Service. While on dinner break, sitting in the truck with the heater roaring and a cup of coffee steaming on the dash, I ate a sandwich I had picked up at a supermarket and read deeper into incoming reports.
Arson had been confirmed at Justin Tolliver’s house, though the type of accelerant had yet to be determined. Rick checked out the paranormal scents and told me things smelled odd but not definable or species specific.
My reading of the land notwithstanding, the attacker had been deemed possibly paranormal, the possibly keeping PsyLED from assuming charge of the case. Based on the possibility, however, PsyLED would have a bigger investigatory role. PsyLED and the FBI were still operating under the auspices of the Secret Service, and for now, we had access to files not compiled by us, cooperation still taking place.
At least one of the Tolliver family was also deemed likely a paranormal. Justin’s wife Sonya had been outed, though none of the Tollivers knew it yet. Nor did the feds or the Secret Service. Soul was holding that information close to the vest for now, since Sonya wasn’t a suspect.
PsyLED’s focus had currently shifted to the research facility, DNAKeys. Which seemed like the wrong way to go to me, because interest in the facility was based on the rumored presence of paras in captivity, not on physical, direct, or circumstantial evidence. But my opposition to DNAKeys as an investigatory focus was a gut feeling based on precisely nothing. I didn’t include that in my comments on the report.