Part 19 (2/2)
It was there, nestled among polysyllabic chemical names and ratios, that she saw it.
Faith stared at the data, rereading it, then again; but the facts didn't change.
Still staring, she raised her arm and said into her com, ”Star-one.”
When the same tones alerted her to the voice mail, she said, ”Security override, authorization Star-three.” The override would push her through to the Prime's com no matter where he was or what he was doing, and it would boost her signal to a practically earsplitting level. David had threatened mayhem if she ever used it, but there were times when mayhem was the least of her worries.
A recorded female voice informed her that her ident.i.ty and clearance were being confirmed; please wait.
”Security override granted.”
Faith said, as clearly as possible, ”Sire, this is Faith. I'm in the workroom with Novotny's results. You need to come down here right now.” She looked over at the box with its trio of deadly weapons. ”There's something here you need to see.”
PART TWO.
Lilith's Blade.
Eleven.
The squatty little man reminded David very strongly of a toad. His eyes were beady and small, his mouth a long line in a broad, flat face; he might hit David's shoulder if they stood back-to-back, but he was about three times as wide. He had long arms and his torso was heavily muscled from wielding hammers and other heavy implements for two hundred years.
David stared at him, and he stared right back, indifferent to his surroundings or his interrogator.
”So you're Volundr,” David said.
A grunted affirmative.
”I imagine you're wondering why we brought you here.”
Another grunt. The man's voice was deep and . . . well, croaky. ”Got something to do with the stakes.”
”Yes, it does. I have a few questions for you about these.”
David gestured to his left, at the table where Faith had placed the stake that had been shot at Miranda and the one that Deven had thrown at the a.s.sa.s.sin.
A third grunt, betraying no surprise.
David glanced over at Faith, who stood in front of the door, arms crossed, listening impa.s.sively. It had taken three weeks to find this man and get him to Austin-three weeks and the cooperation of the West, who had extradited him from Was.h.i.+ngton state where he had dwelt in the forest in a dim little house and forge for centuries. David wasn't sure how the Pair had convinced Volundr to surrender quietly; he was clearly not the type to be easily intimidated.
David picked up the first stake. ”This was fired from a miniaturized speargun at my Queen,” he said. ”It's been identified as silver birch from Lapland. The second one belonged to Prime Deven of the West. The Prime identifies you as the man who crafted the interior shaft and hilt, then carved the wood tips for him . . . out of silver birch. We've confirmed that these two stakes not only are the same kind of wood, they came from the same exact forest.”
”Coincidence,” Volundr said with a shrug.
”Right.” David laid the stake back down in its foam casing. ”A search of your property turned up about nine different kinds of wood in addition to all the metals you work with-most were just firewood, but two, the birch and a supply of coastal redwood, are known for their use in battleready stakes. Silver birch, however, isn't typical of the Pacific Northwest. Where did you get it?”
He shrugged again.
”Did a woman from Finland supply you with it when you made stakes for her?”
Nothing.
”Sir,” David said, letting a little hardness enter his voice, ”I feel I've been very patient up to this point. We are trying to catch a killer in my territory. I know you're not the killer because you're neither female nor athletic-I don't doubt your strength with the hammer, but you're hardly a.s.sa.s.sin material. The birch that we found on your property matches these two stakes exactly. You are without a doubt connected to all of this.”
”What do you want, boy?” Volundr finally asked. ”What do I have to tell you so you'll have your little toy soldiers take me home to my work?”
”I want a list of your clients.”
Volundr looked at David in silence for a moment before he laughed out loud; it was a brash, unpleasant sound that nearly made David flinch. ”If this girl is such a problem for you, maybe she threatened me and I'm too scared to talk.”
David raised an eyebrow at him. ”Oh, come on.”
”Or maybe I don't know this girl,” Volundr went on. ”Maybe I bought the wood from the same dealer as her and you're wasting my time.”
David exhaled slowly. He'd been expecting about as much. ”You do understand that until I get a satisfactory answer you'll be held here.”
A flicker of reaction. The smith didn't like being away from home; that much was clear. He probably hadn't traveled out of Was.h.i.+ngton as long as he'd been living there. He wasn't a psychically strong vampire, living as he did in the middle of nowhere away from a steady supply of human blood, but he was physically strong and his skills were in high demand. He was one of three weapons crafters that Deven trusted with his own designs, and Deven had not been at all pleased to bring Volundr in for questioning; he had agreed, however, as something of a peace offering.
Yet peace was not to be found . . . not here. David had let Faith arrange everything. David had spoken to Deven exactly twice since the Pair had returned to the West: once, when Faith's realization about the two stakes drove David to call Deven and essentially accuse him of collusion with the a.s.sa.s.sin; and again, when David called to apologize after Faith-and Miranda, who had maintained a remarkably level head about the whole thing-pointed out that Deven had no motive whatsoever to kill Miranda, as doing so would kill David, too . . . and, the truth was, if Deven wanted Miranda dead, she already would be.
Deven's acceptance of his apology had been icy and insincere, but out of hurt, not anger. David now had one more sin to add to the growing list of wrongs against those he professed to love.
He stared at the smith for a moment before saying, ”All I want are names, Volundr. Give me a list of people who might be the woman I'm after, and you can go back to work.”
”I have no loyalty to the South.”
”What about the West? Surely the Prime's money has bought your loyalty over the years.”
Volundr shook his head. ”Little f.a.ggot invaded my house and turned me over to you. I don't owe him sh-”
The end of the sentence turned into another grunt as the smith flew backward, slammed into the far wall of the interrogation room, and landed on his a.s.s on the stone floor.
The Prime waited until he'd struggled to his feet to say, ”We can do this the easy way, Volundr, or the fun way. I'll be the first one to tell you I'd find a great deal of satisfaction in dislocating all of your joints one by one, or possibly peeling the skin from your back and pouring acid on your muscle tissue . . . but I respect you as a craftsman and I would hate to see one of the most talented of your trade treated in such an undignified manner.”
Yet another shrug. ”I'll heal. I got nothing to say to you, boy.”
”I'm older than you,” David snapped, losing just a tiny bit of his patience-he'd had precious little of it these past few weeks, and what was left was wearing perilously thin. ”And my respect only goes so far. If you want this to hurt, it can hurt. You know very well what I'm capable of, Volundr-you're no stranger to the Signets. Give me what I want or I start with your fingers.”
”I'm not afraid of that glowing rock round your neck,” Volundr said, still disturbingly undisturbed about the prospect of bodily harm. ”You think you're the biggest power in the world? You're hardly out of diapers. I know power a hundred times older than you . . . sleeping in the rocks of the earth.”
David sighed. ”You're not going to give me some poetic tripe about stones and steel and the might of your anvil, are you? That's just pathetically phallic.”
”I'm not talking about my d.i.c.k, boy. I'm talking about the Firstborn.”
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