Macario and Gualterio both reacted to that too, showing surprise, even if it was only by their scent patterns. One of them said, “We are here to finalize the negotiations, not create an incident. We wish peace between us and between our masters.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire, I thought as their scents again changed. They were here to cause trouble at the very least. To start the war they denied at the very worst.
“What further accommodations do your masters require, beyond that already agreed upon or in negotiation?” Del asked.
“Information only,” the one on the left said.
Del inclined her head, waiting.
Leftie said, “Our master wishes to know how many Onorios Leo Pellissier has in New Orleans. How many Enforcers? And how many outclan priestesses?”
“And if we disclose this information, will we be provided with the same information from among the full delegation of European Mithrans, now in U.S. waters, aboard the ship hidden beneath an obfuscation working? The ship from which you disembarked only hours past?”
The speaker hesitated a fraction of second before saying, “Of course.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Del smiled. It wasn’t a pretty smile, all warmth and welcome. It was a gotcha smile. Smoothly, she continued as if she hadn’t paused. “As well as from the Mithrans and Naturaleza hiding in Pellissier lands and drinking of Pellissier cattle? That is assuming that your masters still maintain control of all their Mithrans.”
I tensed and a faint tremor of shock trailed through me. Del had just gambled, and that was unexpected. She had just informed them that we knew the boat was offshore and under a witch-working. But she was also claiming to know with a certainty that the entire European delegation was aboard. Which I was certain that we did not know. To make it worse, she had told them that we knew there were EVs already ashore, and claimed that the two groups could have split into factions, that the EVs in NOLA might be unaligned or working to separate ends. Which they could be. Or not. It was a dangerous and brilliant tactic. If the emissaries claimed the Deadly Duo were part of their group, they then laid claim to their successes, mistakes, and failures. If the emissaries denied the Deadly Duo and their cohorts, then that left the EVs in Leo’s hands and judgment. Last, she hinted that the vamps had been captured, which was total bluff. But the emissaries had no way to discern the truth of her claims in real time.
Del tilted her head, smiling, waiting. Showing teeth.
Following an uncomfortable length of time, Leftie said, “We speak for the Emperor Titus Flavius Vespasianus. No others.”
Del’s expression didn’t change. The emissaries had just delivered any vamp on shore into Leo’s hands. She said, “Ah. So be it.”
The two blood-servants bowed, turned, and walked away, back into the airlock. Or tried to. The glass didn’t open. Not right away. They stood there, backs to the small crowd. As stage exits went, this one was embarrassing. The doors slowly opened and they stepped through. The doors closed. And then Derek’s man made them wait. And wait. And wait for the outer doors to open. Backs to the room. Standing. Silent. They didn’t betray by so much as a twitch that they were unhappy with the waiting, but I bet myself that the airlock stank of irritation and maybe even a little fear.
And then they were gone, the luxury car rolling smoothly out the drive.
As soon as we were certain that the iron gate had closed behind them, Del turned to me. Instead of saying hi, she said, “Sabina is missing. I sent a contingent to the cemetery across the river, but there was no sign of her anywhere. No one has seen her, not since the attack here when Grégoire went missing.”
“Someone sent for her to feed Leo when he was injured,” I said. “When did she go back to the cemetery?”
“She couldn’t be found,” Del repeated. “She isn’t here. She isn’t at the cemetery.”
Derek tapped his earpiece and said, “Alex just found video of a body being removed from HQ following the attack, two hours after Grégoire was taken. This one was removed by unknown humans during the time when we were healing Leo and securing the premises.”
“Not so secure then,” someone from the back of the crowd muttered.
Derek made a growl worthy of Beast.
“Sabina was kidnapped. That’s why Macario and Gualterio asked the questions about Leo’s people,” I said, figuring it out.
“They know we’ve lost her and Grégoire and Brandon and Brian. They were baiting us. Del baited them back. Nice con, by the way,” Derek said to Del. “But what did they gain by coming here?”
Del was still grinning. She had been having fun, lawyer-style, with the kind of verbal repartee she had enjoyed before she became Leo’s primo and took over “protocol and political rubrics and other fusty duties,” Del’s words for boring crap.
“Since they didn’t kill anyone, as a gambit, their coming here was pathetic,” Bruiser said, “and I’m not certain to what end.”
I looked sidelong at Derek. “Did your men get the tracking device on the emissaries’ car?”
He gave me a single thumb-up. “Three of them. Just in case. One of which is currently off but can be turned on remotely. We also uncovered the owner of the Daimler Straight Edge, a human named Josh Martin. His only connection to Mithrans was through his last name. His several-times-great-grandpapa was the founder of Clan Martin.”
My mouth formed a silent O as that settled into my mind, and I drew all sorts of pieces together. Clan Martin was now defunct; Adrianna had once been part of that blood clan. And Adrianna was now defunct too. Which I hadn’t announced yet. For some reason I was keeping my mouth shut about the fact that I had her head in a cooler in my house. Gee would eventually tell, I was sure, but for now it could stay my own happy, bloody little secret.
I wondered briefly about Leo’s long game. Vamps played chess with time, and Leo was usually a dozen moves in front of the other players. But these guys had been playing for centuries longer than he had been undead. I thought back, as far back as when I first appeared on the scene. “Leo let Gee come back to NOLA. Leo made palsey-walsey with weres, with the witches, and with arcenciels. And with me. What do Louis and Le Bâtard have?”
“No witches except those they turned. No humans with magical powers or magical items,” Bruiser said. “No weres, to our knowledge. And if they have taken Sabina, they are likely having a difficult time holding her.” He sounded pleased at that prospect.
And no one had said so, but the two also had a storm witch working for them. Or a faction of the European witches did.
But how did we all fit together in Leo’s big plan? Did his plan include losing so many of his key people to the gang and revenant attack? Where did the European vamps have our missing people?
Suddenly Bruiser laughed. “Well done,” he said to Del. “They now believe Leo to be two steps ahead of them. They believe that we have people have watching Le Bâtard and Louis Seven. They’ll abandon their allies, just in case. Even if there were no difficulties between the two groups, or a possible spilt, you created one.”
Del looked as satisfied as Beast felt when she took down a boar.
“That’s my girl,” Dacy said. The heir of Clan Shaddock had been silent until now, but she looked tickled at her daughter’s ploy. “And now, I’ve had too much sunlight. I’m for bed.” She turned and left the foyer, her boots clapping and the fringe on her jacket swinging.
A blood-servant brought carafes of coffee and hot tea and set up a small serving table in the foyer. I accepted a cup and sipped the excellent tea, my mind shifting through threads of history and current events, through evidence, ideas, fanghead relationships, and conclusions. It was daunting.
Bruiser pointed to the stairs, the gesture telling me he had Onorio things to do, and disappeared into the bowels of HQ to chat with Leo, who was old enough to be awake and watching the confab on the coms system but was still likely healing from the attack, the stabbing, the silver poisoning, and the loss of fingers. Eli and I took our usual SUV back to the house, my partner silent as he drove through the rain. The storm had let up again as an arm of the slowly swirling weather system passed us and New Orleans’ massive drainage system cleared the city of flood water.