She waved a hand, the movement sparse but elegant. “They were very loud, and annoying my other guests. As I said, I can tolerate some bad behavior, but this is my business and I will not allow anyone to damage its reputation. And they were warned of that previously.”
“So this isn't the first time they’ve done this?”
“The second. There will not be a third one for them, let me assure you.”
If they’d had any sense, there wouldn’t even have been a second time.
Of course, if they’d had any sense, they wouldn’t have become a vampire’s food source in the first place.
“If I can get a description of this Janice, would someone be able to check the security cams, on the off chance she met Marlinda that night?”
“I don’t know how it would help, but I’ll ensure it is done. At the very least, we’ll be able to see the two women interact, and that, in turn, might tell us if any animosity had developed between them.”
Even if there was, it still didn’t explain why Frankie and the unknown man were the first to die.
Her cool smile appeared, though once again it failed to touch her eyes. “You should also be aware that if this Janice is behind Marlinda’s death, I will be tempted to take matters into my own hands.”
That raised my eyebrows. “And what of the guarantee you gave the council to shed no blood and feed on only the willing while in the confines of this reservation?”
“Oh, I would not, in any way, break that promise. I did not, however, make any such guarantee for Roger.”
I glanced across at the man in question. He smiled benignly, sending another round of chills up my spine. Roger, I suspected, had done his mistress’s dirty work on more than a few occasions.
“Shall we head over to Marlinda’s apartment now, Ms. Grace?” he asked.
“Sure.” I returned my gaze to Maelle. “Thank you.”
She inclined her head, the movement regal. “It’s in my best interest to help you, young Elizabeth, but do be aware that this will not always be the case.”
I couldn’t help the smile that touched my lips. “Oh, trust me, I’m well aware of that.”
“Excellent.”
And with that, she slid from the stool and disappeared back into the shadowed confines of her nightclub. Another chill ran down my spine, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed out. Roger was a silent presence at my back.
It didn’t take us long to reach Marlinda’s apartment and, once we’d ducked under the police tape and slipped inside, he said, “What, exactly, are we looking for?”
“I don't really know. A photograph, letters, something that mentions Janice’s name.” I shrugged.
“Do young people these days bother to print out their photographs?” he asked. “Don’t they just post everything onto social media or keep it on their phones?”
“Yes, but given she probably had her phone with her the night she died, it’ll now be in the rangers’ hands and therefore out of my reach.” I shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to check for other possibilities—we might get lucky.”
He snorted, but nevertheless started opening drawers and checking them. Given the disarrayed state of many of them, it was pretty obvious the rangers had already done all this, but I couldn’t ignore the need to check—if only because my psychic senses might spot something ordinary senses had dismissed.
But after an hour of solid searching, it turned out to be a false hope. I stood in the middle of the room with my hands on my hips. “Is this the only apartment she had?”
“Yes.” Amusement touched Roger’s thin lips. “Maelle might indulge the whims and desires of her feeders, but she’s not that generous.”
“I suppose the rangers have impounded her Mercedes?”
“Indeed, although the car was leased by my mistress and merely used by Marlinda. I believe her vehicle is still in the parking lot down the road.”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t the rangers have impounded it?”
“Probably because she was not driving it the night she died,” he replied. “But you are in a better situation than I to have that question answered, given your somewhat close relationship with Aiden O’Connor.”
I ignored the amusement lurking around his eyes. “Have you seen her keys around? It might be worth checking her car, just in case there’s something there.”
“She would have had her main keys with her, but I believe there’s a spare set in the biscuit tin in the pantry.”
“You really do know everything about her.” I went to investigate.
“It’s my duty to ensure Maelle’s attendants are happy and healthy, and that they have everything they might need to keep them that way. As such, I must have intimate knowledge of their desires, needs, and secrets.”
“Secrets?” I glanced at him as I opened the biscuit tin. “What secrets did Marlinda have?”
“Other than her fetish for feet—which is not a need my mistress is inclined to cater to—there were none. She was something of an open book.”
“What about her other feeders?” I fished out the car keys and then put the tin back on the shelf. “And how do you, as a thrall, manage to keep them from your mistress, given she can read your thoughts and speak through you at any time she desires?”
“I have learned to compartmentalize my thoughts regarding the upkeep of her feeders. She does not intrude unless I indicate there is a matter that needs her attention.” He turned and headed for the front door. “Over the years there have been many feeders whose secrets I have kept.”
“And the current crop? Have they any secrets you’re keeping from your mistress?”
“One has an illicit relationship with her half brother, who is wholly supported through Maelle’s generosity.”
“Why do you allow it to continue, especially given incest is against the law?”
“It didn’t interfere with her duties, so it was of no concern.” He raised an eyebrow, a somewhat cool smile touching his lips. “Maelle is from a time when such behavior was not uncommon, and therefore does not have modern sensibilities when it comes to such matters.”
Meaning she was even older than I’d imagined. I ducked back under the police tape, and then closed the door. The sound echoed across the silence of the small hall. “I can’t imagine there’d be anything much darker than incest in the current crop’s background.”
“One has a gambling problem, but beyond that, you’re right—there is nothing concerning.”
“The one with the gambling problem—is he or she still employed?”
“Yes.”
Which left him or her off the suspect list. We came out into the street again. The sky ran with color—reds and oranges mingling with dusky pinks and purples. The sun might be going down, but she wasn’t about to do so without putting on a glorious show.
“How many feeders does she keep?”
“It varies.” He led the way around the corner. “She did have six, but she recently had to let one go.”
“Why?”
“Favoritism and bad behavior. Or rather, too much of the latter, and a lack of the former that consequently led to a rise of jealousy.”
“Seriously? They’re bitching about who gets fed on the most?”
I couldn’t help the surprise in my voice, and his smile flashed. “Indeed they do. And it’s not just the women, I can assure you.”
“So she has feeders of both sexes?”
He nodded. “While my mistress’s tastes do run to women, males have greater amounts of platelets and leukocytes in their blood. It is beneficial for her to feed on them at least once a week.”
We reached the small parking lot, which was two buildings down from Marlinda’s. Not very convenient for carrying groceries back, I would have thought. “How often does she actually need to feed?”
“As one of the older ones, she does not need to feed more than once a month. But she does so four times a week.” He glanced back at me, an amused
smile touching his lips, but an odd gleam in his eyes. “Is it not always better to sip than to feast?”
“I’ve never been one to ignore a good feast,” I replied evenly. “But in this case, I’m sure her feeders appreciate her restraint.”
Not to mention the fact that there was less likelihood of her presence being noted if she avoided gluttony.
“Indeed they do,” he agreed. “In fact, both she and her feeders enjoy the experience.”
A shudder ran through me. Having been recently bitten, I could honestly say there’d been nothing even remotely pleasurable about it. “I don’t suppose the feeder you let go was one of the ones involved in the recent fracas at the club?”
“Yes.” He stopped beside a Ford wagon a good ten years younger than mine. “This is Marlinda’s car.”
I clicked on the remote and opened the passenger side door. “So is it possible that she got so pissed off about being fired that she’s gone after her former friends?”
He laughed. “God, no. Molly may not be the brightest bulb in the batch, and she may have a somewhat unstable temperament, but I doubt even she would be that foolish.”
“Why? You said it was a matter of jealousy; if she was angry enough, it’s certainly possible.”
“No.” His voice was flat. Adamant. “She’d know only pain and death would come to her if she was so foolish.”
“You said she wasn’t bright, so maybe she is.” I sat down and opened the glove box. “And that soul eater was called here by anger.”
“Yes, but it couldn’t have been Molly.” He opened the driver side door and started searching around and under the seat. “She hasn’t a scrap of witch power.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“My mistress is. She would have tasted the ability in her blood.” Another of those creepy smiles touched his lips. “In truth, if she had been fortunate enough to have such power, she would have gained the one thing she’d desired—favoritism.”
“Maelle can taste power in someone’s blood?”
“Oh, yes.”
His gaze came to mine, and left me in no doubt that his mistress seriously wanted to uncover the secrets that lay in mine.
“No fucking way on this earth,” I said, without really thinking about it.
He simply smiled. “If there’s one saying that has proven true time and again over the many years she has been alive, it’s that all things come to those who wait.”
“Well, tell her not to hold her breath, because she’s going to be waiting a long damned time.”
“Oh, she is well aware of that.” He pulled something out from underneath the seat and snorted softly. “I told the fool to check under her seat for this, and she swore she did.”
The item he was holding was an iPhone. “So that’s Marlinda’s?”
He nodded and hit the on button. “As dead as a doornail. The charger should be in the middle console.”
I lifted the console lid and retrieved the charger. “Can I borrow the phone and check out what’s on it?”
“Sure. It’s her old phone, so who knows how relevant anything you find will be.”
It still offered possibilities, which was better than what we currently had—nothing. “Was she a photo taker?”
“Aren’t most of them? Selfies are so very important to the young and egotistical.”
I snorted. “Can you give me a description of Molly, so I know who I’m looking for?”
He sniffed. “Dark brown hair, green eyes, pale skin with freckles across her nose. Rather well-developed in the chest area.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You can say big breasts. It won’t offend me.”
“I think perhaps there is little that would offend you.”
“Your mistress taking a bite certainly would.” I shoved the phone and its charger into my purse. “I don’t suppose you happen to know the lock code?”
“As I said, feeders hold no secrets, even when it comes to something so inconsequential.” He gave me the code, and then added, “It’s likely she has photos of not just Molly, but several of the other feeders as well. They did go out together more often than not.”
“Good. I can show Larissa a random selection and see if any of them look familiar.” I hesitated. “Would you be able to send me a full list of her feeders—both their names and addresses?”
“Why?”
“Because it would be handy to check whether any of them have had any interaction with the unknown Janice.”
He studied me for a moment, his gaze slightly distracted. Checking with the boss. “It can be done, but please ensure you do not give the list to the ranger.”
I frowned. “What if it turns out there is some sort of connection between Maelle’s other feeders and these six murders?”
“If there is, I want a guarantee you will not mention where you got the information from, and inform us before you give the ranger their names and address.”
“I can’t do the latter, Maelle. We’re talking about the murder of six people. I can’t be responsible for you going after this woman before we’ve had a chance to talk to her. We need to find out how she summoned the soul eater so that we can deal with it.”
Roger’s expression remained distracted. After a moment, he said, in tones that were more Maelle’s than his own. “A deal, then. I will not in any way react against this Janice until after you and the ranger have spoken to her.”
“I want that same guarantee when it comes to Roger, or any other henchmen or women you might have tucked in your closet somewhere.”
The smile that touched his lips was cool, dangerous, and every bit hers rather than his. “I will also guarantee that. In fact, I vow that neither my people nor I will move against this Janice if indeed she is responsible for Marlinda’s death until after the soul eater has been dealt with. Is that good enough?”
I hesitated. Dealing with the devil was never a good idea, especially when by doing so I was guaranteeing another’s death.
Maelle must have sensed my reluctance, because she added, “Is it not the witch creed to cause not direct harm unto others unless the circumstances are dire or involve the forces of darkness?”
“Yes, but—”
“You destroyed the vampire without thought. If indeed this Janice is responsible for the soul destroyer’s presence, she must be dealt with appropriately.”
“I’ve a strong suspicion my interpretation of appropriate is very different to yours.”
“If you do not agree,” she continued, her tone without inflection and all the more dangerous because of it, “I will use every source within my power to find and destroy this woman, whether or not you have tracked down the soul destroyer or the person who raised it.”
If she did that, we might never find the person responsible—never have justice for those who had died. Which really left me with little other choice. I reluctantly agreed, and Roger’s gaze became his own again. “Excellent. We have a deal then.”
“Yes, we do,” I said, even as I wondered how the fuck I was going to explain the list to Aiden without mentioning Maelle and her connection to them all.
We continued our search. Other than the usual bits of rubbish that accumulated in cars—pens, drink containers, torn-up junk mail, and random bits of fruit peel—there really wasn’t anything else of note.
Once we’d locked up and returned the keys to their hiding spot, we headed back to his car.
“Thanks for your help,” I said, as the chauffeur stopped the car in front of the café.
“I would say you’re welcome, but we both know I only help because my mistress desires it,” Roger said. “I’ll send the list later this evening, when the venue isn’t as busy.”
“You don’t know them off by heart? I’m disappointed.”
“I can certainly quote you every detail of her favorites, right down to minutiae such as their driver’s license and passport numbers. It is only the details of those who are on a longer rotation that I cannot immediately tell yo
u.”
“I guess you’ll have to work on that, then.” My voice was dry. Hell, I couldn’t even remember my own driver’s or passport numbers, let alone anyone else’s.
He flashed an insincere smile. “Indeed I will.”
I slammed the door shut and, as the vehicle drove off, unlocked the café door and walked inside. Once I’d plugged Marlinda’s phone into a power outlet, I headed upstairs to do some more reading. Belle had found the book mentioned in the side note, but hadn’t—if the bookmark between the first few pages was anything to go by—had the chance to read very far into it.
I made myself a coffee, and then sat down and started reading. Two hours later, I had at least one answer. I still didn’t know exactly what sort of soul spirit we were dealing with, but I did now know how to kill it.
The good news was, it appeared my instincts had been on the right track—the first step to ensure erasure was to lure the spirit into an inactivated pentagram, then pin it to the flesh it was controlling via a silver knife and a high-level containment spell. The witch could then activate the pentagram and deal with the spirit.
The bad news was, soul spirits were notoriously difficult to trap, and the best way to do it was to use live bait.
Not just the soul it might have been sent after, but also that of a witch.
Which meant that if either Lance or Larissa was on the soul eater’s tucker list, they’d have to be placed in the path of danger if we wanted to kill this thing.
And that either Ashworth or I would have to stand beside them.
I swore and scrubbed a hand across my eyes. In reality, the task would have to be Ashworth’s. It was his job, after all, not mine.
And yet I couldn’t help the niggle in the back of my mind that said the task would, at least in part, fall to me.
I shivered, and after bookmarking the page for Belle to read, put it back on the coffee table and got up. It was close to nine, and my stomach was rumbling a reminder that it was time to consume something a whole lot more nutritious than cake and hot chocolate.
I went down to the kitchen and made myself a chicken salad and a pot of tea, then headed back upstairs to watch some TV. Time rolled by and, as the clock downstairs began to chime eleven times, I gave up any hope of Aiden dropping by, and went to bed.