Part 20 (2/2)
”It's convoluted,” I said, ”but it's motive.”
The Kid leaned over me and flipped pages. ”I marked the pages for the good stuff.” There were properties all over the state listed in versions of the names Silandre, Lotus, and Esther.
”They were business partners?” I asked. The Kid nodded.
Bodat wiggled his eyebrows in what I took to be an affirmative. ”They formed a corporation called Lotus Blossoms, which ran brothels Under the Hill.”
”And then Big H cheated them out of about half their ill-gotten gains,” the Kid said.
”So why didn't they just offer a Blood Challenge and get it back the vamp way?” Eli asked.
”Those are mano a mano, which any of them would have lost, not three on one, which they might have won,” I said, thinking. ”They took the long view and waited until a stronger vamp came along and showed them a better way. Maybe when they heard about Lucas Vazquez de Allyon, Esther left Natchez and swore to him. When Death's Rival made his move on other cities, Esther probably worked a deal with him and her old business partners to take over Natchez territory.”
”And then you cut off de Allyon's head,” the Kid said. ”Kinda spoiled their big plans.”
”Yeah.” I breathed out, putting the stack of papers on the table. ”But knowing all this really doesn't help us find the missing humans, witches, or the BBV.”
”It narrows the focus,” Bodat said, ”which means we can create an algorithm to find-”
I held up a hand, stopping him. ”You guys did good work. Really good. Narrow down the list of properties we need to search to ones with bas.e.m.e.nts only. We're spinning our wheels right now.” I held up the poor-quality photo of three bawdy women, corseted, wearing large hats and stacked heels, with their skirts thrown up to reveal a lot of stockinged legs. Photos of vamps were nearly impossible to make until the era of digital photography. The original might be worth a small fortune.
”Okay,” I said. ”Eli, let's weapon up and check out Silandre's Saloon again by daylight. Maybe we missed something.”
CHAPTER 20.
I'll Get Well Later We were back at Silandre's, the place looking more garish by daylight than it had by night, and that was saying an awful lot. Buddy and Bubba's ATV was still there, parked near the kitschy plastic flamingoes. I stepped from the SUV, feeling again that strange tingle of magic I had noticed Under the Hill, but it pa.s.sed over and was gone. It left me feeling unsettled, but I had no idea why. Shrugging to relieve unexpected tension, I turned my attention to the saloon.
The white-painted board siding had so many coats of paint on it that it looked nearly flat, rippled instead of stacked. The windows were mostly old blown-gla.s.s panes, the few replaced panes having a different refractivity and clarity than the older ones. It hadn't shown in the dark, but the gaudy pink paint on the woodwork was two-toned. Bleagh. But, then, I'm not a girly kinda gal and don't care for pink, especially the bright, bra.s.sy shades Silandre had chosen.
The front door was unlocked, and when we entered, a bra.s.s bell over the door rang with a tinkling sound. It hadn't been there the last time we were here. Someone had been moving things around; the front room was no longer overcrowded with kitsch and there were no fanged dolls at all. However, the place was so filled with commercial scents that I couldn't smell anything but the floral-fruity-lavender-cherry-spice combo. I holstered the nine mils I hadn't even known I'd drawn and pulled the M4, cradling it in my arms.
A young woman stuck her head out of the middle room and called a cheery, ”h.e.l.lo. I'll be with-” Her accented words came to a complete stop as she focused on the weapons. She had sounded vaguely Russian as she spoke, and now her eyes went wide with fear.
I held up a hand, fingers spread. ”It's okay. We're here with Big H's permission.”
”Hieronymus,” Eli corrected.
”Yeah. Him. We're not here to hurt you or anything.”
Moving slowly, the girl came out from the wall, revealing a slight frame, long, straight hair, and dark eyes. She looked like a child, willowy but tall for her age, the way girls look when they have grown a foot in a year, all k.n.o.bby knees and elbows below a pink s.h.i.+rt and plaid skirt. Much like I had looked during my first year in the children's home.
I had no idea what she was doing here or if Big H's people had cleaned up our mess in the back. We had left an awful lot of blood in the back room. ”What's your name?” I asked.
”Nostrana,” she said. Yeah. Middle or Eastern European.
”Have you seen Silandre?” I asked.
”No. She has not been here.”
”How about the back room?” Which was a coward's way of asking if Big H's cleanup crew had gotten all the blood out.
Nostrana shrugged. ”Someone purchased the entire set, I think. The room was empty when I arrived two days ago. I have been rearranging everything, making it into a doll room.” She stopped, biting her lip, as if she had said too much.
”Nostrana,” I tried to p.r.o.nounce it like she had, all liquid sounds and sophistication, but it came out sounding flat and Southern. ”You work for Silandre?”
”Three days a week, and during the three days of the full moon and the one night of the new moon. It is odd schedule, but I am exchange student in university, so I can make it do.”
”There's no university anywhere near,” Eli said, sounding cold and hard and managing to call her a liar.
Nostrana's head came up and she firmed her lips. ”I take cla.s.ses on Internet. And I take bus to campus three days a week.”
”Long trip,” Eli said, still disbelieving, this time almost snide.
”Is not your concern. What do you want?”
I smiled. Nostrana was no pushover. ”To look around,” I said, sliding the shotgun into the spine sheath and showing both hands open and empty. Reluctantly, Eli holstered his weapons, but he kept a hand on one. When Nostrana didn't object, I walked through the disordered room toward her. And felt the tingles on my skin. I stopped. This didn't make sense. ”You're a witch.”
Her eyes narrowed and she reached into a pocket. ”Also not your concern.”
”Witches are disappearing in Natchez. Have you been approached by anyone? Been followed?” I asked.
”No.” Her left hand clutched something in the pocket.
”No need to use magical defense on us,” I said. ”We're going.”
”Please. Quickly. And not to come back unless Silandre is here.”
I jerked my head at Eli and backed away, stepping carefully to the front of the saloon/store and out into the meager suns.h.i.+ne without turning my back on her. I didn't speak again until we were back at the SUV. ”Witches are missing. Vamps are turning into c.o.c.kroaches, and Nostrana is a witch working for a vamp.”
”If she was telling us the truth,” Eli said.
”She smelled of the truth.” Eli gave me an odd look, one I've come to a.s.sociate with me admitting to being anything nonhuman. Like most of the other times, I ignored it. ”I need to talk to Francis.”
Without commenting, Eli started up the SUV and we rode along the Under the Hill streets and pa.s.sed by the old warehouse/bar where we had fought and survived. Once again, a surge of magic hit me, a sharp, bitter tang in the air. ”Stop the car.” Before Eli had come to a complete stop, I was out of the SUV and moving between buildings, following the scent. Within three steps, Eli was behind me. In my pocket, I felt something hot and I dug a hand in, pulling out the coin the tribal elder had given me in the church-that-wasn't. The silver coin was hot to the touch, the temperature variant a sure sign of witch magics. I reached into another pocket and touched the pocket watch. It too was heated. And stank of old blood.
”Here. It's here.” I turned in a slow circle, holding the coin out before me, feeling the coin heat and cool, like a childhood game-”You're getting hot! Cooler. Cooler. COLD! Hot again!” Leading me toward the middle street . . . and as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone.
The coin was now neither warm nor cold and the watch was my body temperature. Maybe the change in temp had been my imagination. Maybe I'd been palling around with supernats for so long that I was starting to scent magics everywhere. I dropped my arm. Stuck the coin in my pocket. The old blood smell of the watch clung to my fingers. ”c.r.a.p. Okay. Let's go home, Eli.”
He raised his brows. ”You'll tell me what this little jaunt was about later.” It wasn't a request. More a command.
”Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let's go.” While he drove, I texted. A lot.
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