A spike of alarm lifted her voice an octave. “I didn’t miss the wrong shower, did I?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” I was warmed by her genuine distress. “The family shower is still next week.”
“Oh good.”
With the pleasantries done, I got to the point. “Have you spoken to Boaz recently?”
“About three days ago.” She popped the top on a soft drink and chugged. “Sorry, I’m dying of thirst.”
“You’re fine.” I nudged her. “Do you think you could call him now? See if he answers?”
Quiet swept across the line, and her breath caught. “What’s wrong?”
“We have a situation, and I haven’t been able to reach him. That’s all.”
“Don’t that’s all me. You wouldn’t have gotten me involved if you weren’t worried.”
The taste of foot never improved over time, and yet I keep sticking mine in my mouth.
“You’re right.” I smiled my thanks when Linus served me a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich on buttery Texas toast. “I am concerned. However, I can’t share those concerns with the general public yet.”
“I’m his fiancée.”
Linus picked up the drift of the conversation and appeared to come to a decision.
“Invite her over,” he said gravely. “We’ll discuss the situation when she arrives.”
“We need two hours.” Interrogating Leisha would take time. “We’ll fill you in as much as we can.”
“I’ll do what I can to get in touch with him until then.”
After ending the call, I dug into my breakfast before it got cold.
“I trust Adelaide,” Linus said into the scraping of forks on plates. “She cares for Boaz.”
“I agree, on both counts, but the bigger we grow our circle, the greater chance there is for mistakes.”
About the time I finished my meal, I heard the back door open. Manually. Woolly must still be in a snit.
“Where do you want her?” Lethe entered the kitchen with Leisha in tow. “Tile is easier to clean.”
A muffled protest choked on the gag, but Leisha’s eyes rounded when they settled on me.
It was nice to know I could still intimidate, even with soft scrambled egg on my chin.
“Pull up a chair.” I smacked my palm on the bar. “We’ll have a chat and see where we go from there.”
Withdrawing my trusty pocketknife, still dripping pocket peppermints, I got ready to do what I did best.
Well, okay. Fine. I probably snacked better than I necromanced, but still.
Once Leisha sat in a chair opposite me, I watched Linus draw restraining sigils on her ankles and wrists to keep them bound to her chair. Secure as we could make her, I gestured for Lethe to remove the gag.
“Let me go,” Leisha spat. “I don’t know anything.”
People really never got tired of lying to me. “Who were you meeting?”
“I was watering a friend’s plants. That’s all.”
As I had seen the photos, that was easy to debunk. “A friend in a rental with no plants?”
The click of her teeth snapping together might have intimidated someone who hadn’t met a gwyllgi.
“I can force you to cooperate.” I didn’t enjoy it, but I would do it. “I’m asking you to do the right thing.”
“I will report you to the Lyceum for this gross abuse of power.”
“I tried,” I said to the gathered witnesses. “I gave her a chance to cooperate of her own free will.”
The bite of the knife into my palm barely registered as pain. I was used to the cost of my magic, and I had learned it worked best with a fresh source. There was a price for power, always, and I paid it each time I used mine.
“We’re short on time here. Negotiations are over. We’re moving straight into a light compulsion that will force you to answer me and a verification sigil that will let us know we’re on the right track. It won’t hurt unless you fight it. I recommend you comply, unless you enjoy being zapped for each lie you tell.”
Leisha clenched her jaw, but it wouldn’t help her. I had done this enough to perfect my technique.
“Who were you meeting?”
“Eloise Marchand.”
Green.
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and LJ must have felt it. He kicked enough to wind me.
Well, that definitely explained why the Grande Dame had been divided in her certainty over their target.
Generally, when it came to the Marchands, they hunted their own. As in, me. But the Grande Dame was my mother-in-law. Maybe that counted? She had certainly been concerned enough to beef up security for both of us.
“Eloise Marchand,” I repeated, the shape of my cousin’s name hard to fit in my mouth. “Why?”
“She wants revenge.”
Green.
“Where does the Grande Dame fit in?”
“She sentenced Rhiannon Marchand to Atramentous.”
Green.
“That happened years ago.” Lethe narrowed her eyes on Leisha. “Why act now?”
Savoring her tiny rebellion, Leisha ignored Lethe and kept her lips sealed.
With an annoyed growl, I demanded, “Why act now?”
“Eloise is pregnant.”
Green.
The timing of the attack still bothered me. “How far along?”
“Eight months.”
Green.
Reading my unease, Linus addressed her. “What does she hope to achieve by abducting Mother?”
She had the sense not to play games with him.
“Eloise wants her mother present when her first grandchild is born.” Leisha curled her lip at the sentiment. “She wants to make an even trade, a mother for a mother.”
Green.
“She mentioned two weeks.” Linus honed his flat stare. “Why did she act early?”
“Idiocy?” A shrug rolled through her shoulders. “Opportunity?”
Green.
“Why hasn’t Eloise been in contact with us?” I pressed. “How can we negotiate without the terms?”
“Perhaps she lost her nerve after she struck?” Leisha frowned. “Impulsiveness is often regretted.”
Black.
Hypotheticals weren’t true or false, just speculation. They registered as null to the sigil.
“Okay.” That provided us with one set of motivations, but not hers. “Why are you helping her?”
“Eloise, as acting Dame Marchand, has agreed to grant me access to the Marchand archives.”
Green.
Unease slithered through my stomach, and LJ took offense. “Looking for anything in particular?”
“The Marchand collection documents everything that is known about the goddess-touched condition by a bloodline rich with them. What scholar wouldn’t want to study such a powerful evolutionary quirk of necromantic biology?”
Green.
Only the years I had spent watching Linus perfect the art of wearing masks prevented shock from plastering itself across my face. Shock…and outrage. The Marchands had refused me, a goddess-touched necromancer from their bloodline, access to their collection, but they bargained it away to her?
A cleansing breath gave me clarity, and I exhaled my anger.
“Did Eloise think to mention the Marchand collection was donated to the Athenaeum?”
Fury painted her cheeks red, and she bristled. “You’re lying.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” I sipped from my smoothie. “I also happen to know where the Athenaeum is currently housed, and I can tell you right now, you’re not getting anywhere near it.”
The collection of rare pieces of necromantic history that comprised the Athenaeum were held in a vault beneath Atramentous.
I had been there. Linus and Boaz had gone with me. We three had risked imprisonment or death to learn how to save Savannah from my grandfather. There I had faced down my demons and used a memory sigil plucked from my genetic memory to recover as much of the collection as possible before we made our escape.
Leisha would never be allowed to waltz into the prison of my nightmares and browse the famed library to her heart’s content. I certainly wouldn’t be sharing my copies with her either.
There was no reason for me to be shocked or outraged when a snake acted like a snake.
The Marchands had lied to her, the same as they lied to everyone. She just hadn’t accepted it yet.
“We’re done here.” I mulled over her answers. “Can you extend your hospitality a while longer, Lethe?”
“Not a problem.” She bared her teeth. “What good is a dungeon if you never get to use it?”
The dungeon was a recent addition, but it wasn’t a literal dungeon. More of a modification to her existing basement to make accommodating vampires for extended stays in lightless rooms easier. They were useful for holding unruly gwyllgi too, but she tended to discipline her own people with her teeth.
After Linus released Leisha’s ankles, Lethe pulled her to her feet and marched her out the door.
“You didn’t push her,” Linus noted. “What did I miss?”
“You worried she slipped her NDA. I don’t think she signed one. She’s great at illusions, right?”
One sigil could have given the contract the appearance of her signature without binding her to its terms.
“No one has successfully fooled Mother in my lifetime.” He set about washing dishes, which he did when he wanted to think. “She hired Leisha for her talent to avoid involving either of us, not for her trustworthiness.” He soaped his rag. “There’s always a first time for everything.”
Lost in thought, I hummed in absent agreement that earned me a searching look from him.
“Marchand involvement was unexpected,” he said quietly. “Are you all right?”
“It’s not like I had any illusions left that we would ever be one big, happy family.”
I hadn’t seen or heard from my cousin since her mother, Rhiannon Marchand, was tried for multiple counts of murder and found guilty of all charges. I could never find it in my heart to celebrate someone being cast into the pit that was Atramentous, but I had come close with her.