"But the rumors all said we'd get fresh blood."
"How much have you had since you arrived?" I asked.
"I have gotten to drink twice," he muttered, sounding angry.
"How much fresh blood did you get, where you lived before?"
"None, it was forbidden," he grumbled.
"Perhaps you'd like to go back there." I wasn't going to listen to much more of this. He'd gotten a taste for blood from the source, and looked to be on his way to becoming addicted. Apparently, Rigo thought the same; he was frowning at Geratt.
I made a mental note to check with the comesuli who'd come here, just to make sure they weren't abused when they offered blood. It looked like these might not have been trained to take blood properly, and I was out of patience with anybody who might mistreat the comesuli. Roff, too, wasn't happy with this guy. Thurlow had as good a non-expression going as any I'd seen. I didn't have time to wonder about him for perhaps the fiftieth time.
"Come, let us walk through New Hesperia," Geratt offered, noticing, finally, that he was in a minority about getting additional fresh blood. We walked out of City Hall with him, past the inevitable courtyard and down the center street leading up to City Hall. We passed a few grand manors, quite a few nicer homes and some that were more than adequate. The latter didn't seem to be occupied—the new residents had claimed all the nicer properties.
"My home is down this street," Geratt informed us as we walked along. I noted the street sign—the street was named after him. How nice. Of course, his mansion was at the end of the block and took up most of the cul-de-sac, wrapping around the circular area in a U-shape. Well, weren't we uptown? "I am looking forward to my first meeting at the palace tomorrow," Geratt smiled. Odds are he'd try to dominate it, too. We'd see how that turned out.
"Please, come and see what I've done with the house," Geratt went on. Heathe and Davan were already headed in that direction.
"Lady," Thurlow took my arm, just as my skin began to itch. I drew in a huge breath as wooden shafts were shot around us from nearly every angle. I turned everything around me to mist as swiftly as possible, mentally screaming out a distress call to anyone listening. What I wasn't expecting was for Erland and Wylend to show up, nor what they did when they got there. Anything on that street that wasn't mist was burned to cinders in three blinks. Now I was seeing just what it was that Karathian Warlocks could do.
Chapter 9
When I came back to corporeality, turning everything else within my mist as well, that's when I learned just what those shafts had done. Davan was already dead and Heathe nearly so.
"No!" I shouted, struggling to get to Heathe before the last spark of life was gone. Cleo, healer that she was, got there ahead of me and nearly landed on top of Heathe, glowing like the sun. Davan was turning to ash as I knelt next to him and wept.
* * *
Sixteen piles of vampire ash—that's what we found behind houses—six behind Geratt's manor alone. Garde and Aryn had shown up quickly; I was staring at Geratt as he sat at a table at City Hall, looking guilty as hell. Rigo had the other Council members off to the side—he'd placed a compulsion to end all compulsions, I think, and he was glaring at all of them. I pitied any one of them who might be involved in this.
Davan had been my uncle. Had been. We'd only known each other for a short time. He'd been so good—so grateful, even—for the job he'd been given, and the place he had at the palace. I wanted to cry again over his loss, along with so many other things. Roff stood beside me, a hand stroking my jaw and neck carefully as he watched Garde question Geratt after Aryn placed compulsion.
"Tell me everything you know of this attack." Garde was blowing a lot of smoke. If his smaller Thifilathi came, we'd all have to leave and I figured Geratt would be dead quickly.
"They assured me it would be clean and swift," Geratt whined.
Where did you think you would hide afterward?" Aryn asked.
"I was promised transport back to Brisdan, if it appeared I might be implicated."
"How much?" Erland and Wylend were still there, and Erland now had Geratt's shirt gripped in his fist. "How much did they promise you for this? Because I can assure you, they meant for you to die here so they could keep the money for themselves. Only Lissa's quick thinking saved your sorry hide from those arrows, which killed her uncle, by the way."
Garde was still blowing smoke, but seemed content to have the Warlock do some threatening. Thurlow was at the back of the room, watching everything and everybody. We learned that three humanoids had hired Geratt and twenty vampires to kill me, for half the fifty million promised by Black Mist. Three vampires had escaped and the humanoid masterminds were staying somewhere in Casino City, waiting to pay Geratt for my assassination.
Cleo had taken Heathe and Grant back to the palace; Heath had been really shaky but alive when she'd folded them away. I figured he'd be getting plenty of blood substitute the minute he got back. I looked up at Roff.
"Lissa, I am sorry," he leaned down and kissed me gently, wiping the stubborn tears away afterward.
"Me, too, honey," I put an arm around his waist and buried my head against his shoulder.
* * *
"I see them." Rigo spoke quietly to Aryn, Garde, Thurlow and Erland. Three men were gambling at a table nearby. Geratt had given names and descriptions. The names were assumed, but it was easy enough to fit the descriptions to the accents Geratt provided. It was a simple matter afterward to track down where they were gambling. A vampire pit crew manned the craps table, and they knew not to say anything when Erland and Garde walked up.
"Please, come with us," Erland smiled pleasantly at the three. When one tried to bolt, Rigo had a hand on his shoulder and claws digging in. He came along quietly after that. A room was provided by casino management for questioning—the owner knew Erland well. He also knew better than to interfere.
"Now, you will tell us everything," Aryn placed compulsion. The three gulped and nodded.
* * *
"Will you tell Griffin?" Wylend was saying good-bye, so I asked him to pass the news of Davan's death along—Davan was his brother, after all. Yes, I knew what Griffin had done. To me and to Roff. I had no idea whether there was a way to restore Roff's memories completely or if their restoration would only cause further grief at this point. Roff had come to me somehow, whether he remembered or not. I was still trying to decide if I wished to speak to my natural father from now on. I did have one other request, however.