Blood Noir - Laurell K. Hamilton [144]
I didn’t say anything. If I was quiet enough, he might come closer for a look. If he came close enough I’d shoot him.
“Mr. Summerland, why don’t you answer me? If you would simply tell us where Lorna is, then we would let you go. We have no wish to harm the son of a governor.”
He was lying.
“Mr. Summerland,” he said again, “are you in there? Why don’t you answer me?”
I could smell dawn on the air. Not here yet, but close. I wanted to know if this was a vampire, but if I used my necromancy to sense him, he’d know what I was. I think they had thought I was just another of Keith Summerland’s women. It’s why they had left me in the bathroom, with no guard. It’s why this one was assuming that Keith Summerland had gotten away somehow and killed the two vampires. This guy was assuming that because I was a woman I wasn’t dangerous. Was it time to let the last man standing know that he’d made a mistake?
“Mr. Summerland?” His voice sounded a little closer. Did I wait for him to maybe get close enough for a shot, or did I try to get some answers?
Dawn was so close. If he was a vampire he’d been running out of moonlight, literally. If he was human it didn’t matter. I decided to try for information.
“Why would you think Lorna would be with him?”
“Oh, the girl.” He sounded genuinely surprised.
“Yeah,” I said, “the girl.”
“Do you know where Lorna is?” he asked, and there was a hopeful lilt to his voice.
“After what you did to my boyfriend and me, I don’t think I want to answer any of your questions.”
“We were harsh, and I am sorry for that. Genuinely sorry.”
“Liar,” I said.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“You first,” I said.
“They call me George.”
“I want to know your name, not what they call you.”
He laughed then, and he was good. It was a nice laugh, as if he weren’t standing in a hallway staring at the dead bodies of men he’d hired to kidnap and torture us. Of course, maybe he was just a charming sociopath. In that case the laugh was real. When you have no empathy for anyone else, other people dead or hurt don’t mean anything to you.
“Edmond, my name is Edmond. What is your name?”
I decided to try lying. “Katerine.” It was my middle name.
“Now who’s lying?” he said, and he made it sound playful.
Fine. “Anita, my name’s Anita.”
“Anita, now that is a lovely name.”
“What happens if you don’t find Lorna?” I asked.
He was quiet for a second or two, then said, “Her husband will not be pleased.”
“So, you find her and you’re going to force her to go back to him?”
“He is her husband and her master.”
Master, that was an interesting choice of words. Was Lorna the wife of the Master of the City Peterson had told me about? “He your master, too, Edmond?”
“He trusted me with this errand.”
“Yes, then,” I said.
“You do not speak like one of Keith Summerland’s bimbos.”
“Is Lorna a bimbo?”
“I would never call my master’s wife such a thing.”
“Then why did she think she could leave her master and husband and go off with Keith? Doesn’t sound very bright.”
“He looks too much like her long-lost love. She does not see his faults, only his face, like a ghost of things lost and forgotten.”
“She had the hots for Jedediah Summerland?”
“Who are you, girl?”
“Jedediah was killed by vampires; are you saying that Lorna saw Keith and decided to try to relive old times?”
“You are taking this all very in stride, girl. Anita, you said your name was?”
“I did.”
“You smell of blood, and sorrow, but you are calm. What is your last name?”
Dawn pressed like a weight against the window and its heavy drapes. He wasn’t panicked enough for a vampire above ground. Human, then, but I was betting human servant. Not just a human that hung with the vamps, but a true servant like I was to Jean-Claude. He said he could smell blood and sorrow, and if he was a longtime servant he might have gained the ability.
“You answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”
“Yes, she’s trying to relive her lost affair with Jedediah.