Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [437]
I shook my head. “We’re trying to smooth this over, not make it worse. Right now they can only sue this city, let’s not give them a reason to sue us, too.”
He nodded then stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “They are all yours, good luck.”
There was a group of vampires around the big fireplace in the center of the main room. None of them belonged to Jean-Claude. Some of them were clustered around a table set in front of it the fireplace, in huge thronelike chairs, some on a cushioned seat near the fireplace. One of the vampires was clutching an animal print cushion while he sat in front of the fire. His eyes were wide, and he looked shell-shocked. The other five were scared, or angry, or a mixture of both, but they were holding it together better than the cushion-hugger.
I showed them my badge and explained who I was. But it wasn’t the badge that made the cushion-hugger whimper, “Oh, God, they’re going to kill us.”
“Shut up, Roger,” a tall vampire with sleek black hair and angry hazel eyes said. “Why are you here, Ms. Blake? We are being held against our wills, and we are guilty of nothing except being vampires.”
“And you are?” I asked.
He stood and straightened a rather nice, conservative suit. “I am Charles Moffat.”
“I know that name,” I said.
He looked nervous, just for a moment, then he tried to swallow it. He wasn’t twenty-years dead, a baby.
“You’re one of Malcolm’s deacons for the Church of Eternal Life,” I said.
He opened his mouth, then closed it, and stood very tall, and said, “Yes, I am, and I’m not ashamed of it.”
“No, but Malcolm has forbidden any of his church members to frequent this side of the river for nefarious purposes.”
“How do you know what our master dictates?” He was trying to bluff, and it wasn’t going to work.
“Because Malcolm talked to the Master of the City and got him to agree to tell Malcolm if any of the church’s members frequented his clubs. You guys aren’t allowed to be anywhere this naughty. You must, and I quote, be absolutely above reproach.”
One of the vamps who was balding and wore glasses, started rocking in his chair. “I knew we shouldn’t have come. If Malcolm finds out . . .”
“She is Jean-Claude’s servant, and she must tell him, and he will tell Malcolm.”
“Actually, the agreement was just to tattle about you coming to our clubs. Malcolm didn’t ask us to keep an eye this side of the river.”
The bald vampire looked up at me as if I’d offered him salvation. “You won’t tell?”
“If you guys tell me everything you know about this, I don’t see a reason to.”
The bald vampire touched Charles Moffat’s arm. Charles jerked away from him. “How can we trust you?”
“Look, I’m not the one who signed a morals clause with my master and has just been caught in a titty bar—you guys have. So if anyone is questioning someone’s word, shouldn’t it be me? I mean a vampire that goes against the express orders of his master, what good is he either to his master or his kiss?”
“We of the church do not use the word kiss for a group of vampires. Malcolm feels that it is too sensuous a word.”
“Fine, but my point stands. You’ve betrayed your master, your church, and your oath, or don’t you in the church take blood oath, either?”
“A barbaric practice,” Charles said, “we of the church are held by our own moral standards not some magical oath.”
I smiled and motioned around the room. “Hmm, nice standards.”
Charles blushed, which isn’t easy for a vamp, but it let me know he’d fed tonight, fed a lot. “Who was your feed for tonight?”
He just glared at me. “Look, guys, it’s 4:30 in the morning. We have less than three hours to get your asses back to your homes. We want you all out of here before dawn, alright?”
They all nodded. “Then answer my questions. I can tell which one of you has fed and which hasn’t. I need to know what dancers, or donors, you