Jelani spoke with the detective assigned to the case. From their muted conversation, Bones picked up that the detective thought Jelani was an associate of one of the city’s biggest donors, and that Bones was a private investigator.
Bones made Jelani empty out the flat before he went inside, ignoring the rubbish the detective sputtered about him contaminating the scene. He’d leave the scene a sight less muddled than those blokes.
Once alone, he walked through the flat, breathing deeply every few moments. Same male and female scent from the other flat. Spent less time here, though, and made a grand mess of things in their haste. Those blood spatters are from an arterial spray, arced wide enough that the girl would have been running when they tore open her throat. Not the same girl they finished off in the kitchen, though. She’s the poor lass who owned the other flat, and she didn’t have any legs left to run on.
The boy was watching. His blood’s fresher than theirs, and the stench from his fear is smeared all over both rooms. From the shallowness of his wounds, he was likely still alive when they ate his arms…
Bones felt the shift in the air right before Ralmiel appeared behind him. He spun, his knife flashing out, but the other vampire wasn’t pointing any weapons at him this time. No, Ralmiel was staring almost sadly around the carnage of the room.
“Mon Dieu,” he breathed, then gave a censuring glance at the knife in Bones’s hand. “Put that away. There’s been enough death in this room, oui?”
Under normal circumstances, Bones would have disagreed, and then proceeded to stab the hell out of Ralmiel. But the scents, sight, and aura of despairing horror in the flat also made him loath to add to it. Bones lowered his knife, but didn’t let it out of his hand. He wasn’t so affected that he’d lost his wits.
“Why are you here, if not to attempt to kill me again?”
Ralmiel walked around the room, inhaling just as frequently as Bones had. He held another small, dark satchel in his grip. Ah yes, that would be Ralmiel’s voodoo version of a teleporter.
“This was not done by human hands. It is one thing to kill such as you or I”—Ralmiel’s dismissive wave encompassed their mutual lack of worth—“but these are innocents. It is not right.”
Bones almost rolled his eyes. A hitter with a conscience. If Ralmiel wasn’t out to kill him, he’d buy him a drink and they could talk shop.
“You didn’t hear about the other murders? You should pay more attention, mate.”
“I heard about the last one, but didn’t know our kind was responsible. New Orleans is my city. It has its darkness, but not like this. You know who’s doing this?”
Bones met the other man’s green gaze. “Yeah, I do.”
Ralmiel waited. Bones said nothing else. Finally, Ralmiel gave Bones an assessing glance.
“But you are here to kill them, non? You are not too bright if you think Marie will thank you afterward for stealing her vengeance.”
Bones shrugged. “I’m doing it regardless. Call it a slow business week.”
Ralmiel laughed, but it had a harsh edge. “Tell me who is behind this, so when I kill you, you can go to your rest knowing I will prevent it from happening again. You have my word.”
“Thanks ever so, but I’ll take my chances,” Bones replied, green glittering in his eyes.
Ralmiel didn’t know it, but those magic pouches of his were numbered. Bones had paid a visit to Georgette yesterday, the maker of Ralmiel’s fancy exits, and had persuaded her to switch the ingredients for Ralmiel’s new batch. It barely required any threatening at all. Georgette knew using magic was against vampire law, and as the provider of the product, she was guilty by association. Once Ralmiel ran out of the real fetishes, Bones would have him right where he wanted him. Forced to fight—and die.
Ralmiel bowed. “As you wish.” Then he squeezed his pouch and vanished from where he’d been standing.
Bones looked at the empty spot and smiled. Two more down, mate. I suspect your genie impersonation will soon be coming to an end.
6
Becca chewed her lower lip. “You’re quiet tonight.”
Bones glanced up. “Sorry, luv, I’m just a bit preoccupied.”
She pushed her plate back. At least, three dates later, she’d quit pretending that a bowl of lettuce was all she wanted for a meal.
“Problems with your client?”
Becca thought he was a consultant for a corporation looking to save finances by downsizing its nonessential employee positions. It was close to the truth, in a twisted sort of way.
“Something like that.”
The real problem was, Bones still wasn’t any closer to finding the LaLauries. They didn’t appear to have their own residence, but just moved from flat to flat of the people they murdered.