Chapter 35

Quinn sat quietly in an ornate chair that looked like it might have graced some French noble’s estate during the reign of Louis XIV. As he waited for the Vampire who was Oldtown’s mayor to awaken, he looked around. The room matched the chair. In his mind, he had expected a vampire’s place to be more baroque— maybe with blood red walls with a gold leaf trim. Instead, the room was white—blinding white. Heavy white swag curtains blocked the daylight. The bed was a huge California king canopied with gossamer panels of white silk.

The sleeping vampire, Luciana Marinus, provided the contrast. From what he could see, her silken pajamas were scarlet, her long hair midnight black against white satin pillows.

Quinn watched her awaken with amusement. She awoke and stiffened when she registered that there was an intruder in her bedroom—then made a production of blinking herself awake. Her hand casually reached for the knife under the pillow on the other side of the bed.

“Easy vampire,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you—unless you want to commit suicide and go for the knife under your pillow.”

She sat up in bed. Her scarlet silk pajama top fell open, revealing a perfectly shaped alabaster breast.

“Who the hell are you?”

Quinn tossed her a robe. “Cover yourself and get up. We need to talk. Please don’t alert the amazons sitting outside. They have done nothing to me, I have no desire to cause them any hurt.”

He thought the vampire was a very impressive woman. Her luminous hazel eyes had held no panic, just a hint of surprise that was rapidly being replaced with curiosity. He guessed you learned a thing or two about adapting quickly to circumstance when you’ve been alive for a thousand years or so.

He reached down and lifted the bag that held the Leprechaun’s head and set it on the bedside table.

“Before we start, look in the bag.”

She sat up and gathered the robe around her shoulders. Her eyes widened and her mouth made a moue of disgust as she saw what the bag held.

“Is that loathsome thing supposed to scare me?

Quinn smiled, “I’d bet good money that you don’t allow anything to scare you. I’m hoping to get your attention—and I’m really hoping that you’re smarter than the idiot in the bag.”

“Well, you have my attention, what do you want?”

“I’m not sure what you would call the political system that runs this city, maybe a kleptocracy or oligarchy. I was more interested in my tutor’s fly-fishing lessons than his civics classes. Doesn’t matter, really. I know you are one of the Three that run the city. The others—well, one of your partners is in the bag on your table and the other is a being, known as the Druid.

He’s next on my list.

You all have an issue in your town that needs fixing. Child-Slavers. What I’m trying to figure out is how deep a problem it is. What do you know about it?”

“Not much. I assume it goes on, but since I’m not involved, I pay no attention to it.”

Quinn thought that she was a pretty good liar—excellent, even. She’d had centuries to practice, after all.

“I first found out about it a couple of years ago,” Quinn continued, “I was propositioned, a couple of blocks from here, by the way, by a twelve-year-old mundane girl named Lark. She was a skinny little thing, desperate and scared. Funny thing, she had a Sidhe slave collar around her neck. I took it upon myself to have a chat with your partner—the guy whose head currently resides in that bag. I warned him then about enslaving babies, but the warning didn’t take. Now, I know that the fact it continued is partially my fault—I should have ended him then, but at the time, I was trying to turn over a new leaf and quit killing beings who offended me.”

“I’m going to send for some coffee, would you like some?”

“If you promise not to poison me, sure.”

Luciana smiled. “I promise, but how do you know I won’t?”

“Not a problem. I can tell when you’re lying. My compliments though, you are an awesomely good liar.”

She stared at him with narrowed eyes, then shrugged and walked to a pull rope and signaled for her wait staff.

Two tall amazon women entered the room, one carrying a carafe and a cup. Quinn thought them typical of the tribe. Almost as tall as him, with slender dancers’ bodies. All muscle and bone. Faintly oriental dark brown eyes. They were definitely sisters, almost twins.

They stopped in shocked surprise when they saw him.

Before they could gather themselves. He stood and thumped his right hand and arm on his chest.

“I see you sister warriors,” he said in ancient Scythian. “Peace.”

“I see you, brother warrior,” they replied automatically. Then they turned shocked faces to the Vampire for direction.

She was looking at Quinn with her mouth open. “Who the fuck are you? How do you speak their language? As far as I know, nobody but the tribe has spoken it for two thousand years.”

“Oh, I didn’t introduce myself, did I. I’m Lachlan Quinn. I live over on the other side in Ballard. I had an opportunity to visit the tribe once.”