Pure Blood_ A Nocturne City Novel - Caitlin Kittredge [85]
“Get out,” he ordered. “Before I teach you the lesson you so obviously need.”
“Since you mention lessons,” I said, taking the strip of film out of my pocket, “I’ve got one for you.” I tossed the strip on the carpet between us. “Always make sure you get all the negatives when you pay someone off.”
Seamus looked at me, at the film, back at me, then crouched and picked it up. He turned his back on me and went to the broad window behind his desk, holding the film up to the light.
“Good composition,” I said. “Well framed. The faces are very clear. Vincent might have had some actual talent. His sister mentioned he was a painter.” I put my hands in my jacket pockets to disguise the rubbery fear that was working its way out of my stomach and strolled across the carpet to Seamus. “But I guess we’ll never know, since you had him murdered.”
He whipped back to me, the film clutched in his fist. “You think this changes anything? You’ll never prove I poisoned that queer. I’m a god in this town, little girl.” A shadow of ink started at the corners of his eyes and bled across the pupil. The small hairs on my neck prickled and my lower back twinged, the were equivalent of a red flashing light and an alarm klaxon. I blazed on.
“Of course you didn’t hold the needle, Seamus. But you ordered someone to.” Or he had forced Vincent into killing himself, by using the Skull. “After all this, witches and magickal wars and blood feuds, it’s something so pedestrian. I’m kinda disappointed, honestly. Multiple killings over a bunch of dirty pictures. Puts things into perspective.”
Seamus laughed, shaking his head like I was a very stupid toddler who had messed my pants. “You are so focused on what’s there in black-and-white, little girl. You can’t see that an addict would do anything for drugs and cash. He’d snap some compromising photos, and he’d also cut a deal when he got caught.”
Before I could apply that to any sort of sense, Seamus’s hand flashed out and twisted in my hair, bringing my face close to his. His eyes were pure black now as he pulled down his power, like the daemons I had encountered. In a human face they were terrifying.
“And now I think I’ve confided enough to you,” Seamus said softly. “Don’t resist,” he added when I struggled against him, snarling. “Or I’ll just kill you outright.”
The compulsion slipped over me like plunging into a pool of hot ice—everything was warm and solid and I just didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t like a dominate, all heavy limbs and clouded senses, like being drunk. I was still perfectly aware that I was standing in Seamus’s office, looking into his eyes, but I saw it all from a small spectator box in the back of my mind. My body and my consciousness were no longer under my control.
“Good,” Seamus breathed when he saw the compulsion take hold. “Now walk.” Still holding my hair, he led me across the office to a small metal plate set in the wall. He pressed the button and a piece of the wall slid back. I had an odd sort of tunnel vision—directly in front was clear but everything else was a swirl of light and sound and overwhelming sensation.
Seamus dragged me into a small compartment and we started to move, downward. After what seemed like a long wait the door opened and he commanded, “Out.”
“What’s that you’ve got there?” said a familiar sharp voice. Seamus grunted.
“She burst into my office and started spouting accusations about Vincent Blackburn. Nothing too deep, but enough to be serious.” He let go of my hair and I went to my knees because that seemed like a natural thing to do. “Do what you want,” Seamus said. “I put her under far enough that even if she snaps out of it, she won’t remember a thing.”
Joshua, wearing a new dark suit worth more than my car, stepped into my field of view and whistled. “I love the perks of this job, Seamus. I really do.”
“I’ll need my car at seven,” said Seamus. A door clicked somewhere and he was gone.
Joshua stroked his jaw and regarded me. “Well. All alone, eh, Luna? Remind you of anything?”
Alone, on the floor of someone’s van while