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Regina laughed. "You have a question?"
"Yes," she said, softly. "We have some information on the Indigo Court, but there's so much we still don't know about them. They kidnapped my mother. Do you know what they want with her?"
Geoffrey stood, pacing behind his chair. After a moment, he let out a hollow sigh that had no breath behind it. "We have our suspicions. The members of the Vampire Nation generally don't pretend to be fond of most mortals. We--true vampires--abide by the Treaty of Supernatural Conduct because it allows us to live alongside your kind without being hunted except by those bearing grudges. But we do abide by the treaty--except for the rogues--and we honor our promises. The Indigo Court . . ." He paused and glanced at Regina.
"The Vampiric Fae are chaotic, far more chaotic than we are," she said, after a moment. "You may think us arrogant, but trust me, the world of the Indigo Court is far more dangerous than ours. They honor no treaty, no promises, and consider themselves above every rule except their own. They feed on blood and they feed on magic."
"Where we strive to find some compromise to walk among the living, they seek to make the living their slaves," Geoffrey said. "They hate us. We are their makers and they will never forgive us for being first to walk among the living dead. So they seek those with strength to ever add to their court, in order to eventually destroy us."
While I knew the feeling was mutual, I decided to keep my mouth shut.
"We have a long history--" Regina paused as the door opened and Lannan Altos walked in. "Brother--you're back."
After an exaggerated bow in our direction, he handed a manila envelope to her. She kissed him deeply, tongue and all. I blinked. They'd apparently taken their brother-sister relationship to a whole new level.
"You're lovers? But you're related!" Leo blinked as the words burst out of his lips.
They looked at him, and Regina laughed. "Oh, truly, even the magic-born can seem so human at times. Yes, we are lovers, and yes, we are brother and sister. We are also best of friends and mated to rule over our family line."
Leo gulped out an "Oh."
"Any more questions?" she asked.
I decided to chance it. "Yes, actually. On that subject . . . if you are brother and sister, and mated, then why isn't Lannan an emissary, too?"
As she shook the papers out of the envelope and handed them to me, she shrugged. "The Crimson Queen doesn't care for my brother."
I quickly glanced at Lannan, hoping her answer hadn't brought up baggage he might be happy to take out on us, but he just let out a low laugh.
"True, very true. Regina is the mistress of courtly attendance. I do not suffer sycophants and toadies, and you must be diplomatic in order to do what my sister does. I am far from diplomatic."
Geoffrey let out a snort. "Lannan, you are the epitome of politeness when you choose to be and the biggest ass in the world when you choose to be. To work for the Queen," he added, "one must put aside one's ego and submit one's will directly to our beloved liege. And that, you will never do. You want to be cock of the walk, my friend."
Lannan shrugged and cracked a smile. "Can you blame me? I bow to no man, though I answer to the Queen when I must. I answer only to myself at all other times. And," he turned to Regina, "to my love." He reached out and brushed her fingertips with his and an audible spark broke the silence.
At that moment, they both swiveled their heads to look at me and I suddenly felt like fresh meat on the hoof. I quickly buried my nose in the contracts. They were clearly written, though I noticed one loophole that stipulated if I should fail to report to them daily, the Crimson Court had the right to "administer remedy." I also noticed they were offering me twenty-five hundred dollars a month to report to them on whatever I found out. Not bad money, for a job that didn't require eight-to-five or asking, "Do you want fries with that?"
"I'm not sure what this means, but it could mean, oh, so many things." I pointed to the clause. "What kind of remedies are you talking about?" Actually, I had some idea, thanks to skimming through A History of the Vampire Nation. "The wording on this has to change somehow."
Regina glanced at it, then looked at Geoffrey. "Actually, nothing has to change, but perhaps we can amend it. There must be some guarantee she will not default or neglect her duties."
Lannan leaned his elbows on the back of Regina's chair. "Word it so that for every day she misses sending her report--which can be via e-mail if she likes--she must spend an hour with me, and I, alone, will be allowed to punish her during that time.">The curtains covering the back of the dais parted.
"What the fuck . . ." I caught myself before I said anything I'd regret.
Regina gave me a sharp look and I nodded, understanding her meaning. Shut the fuck up and do what I tell you.
There, sitting in front of us, sat a bent and twisted creature. Maybe he'd been human. Once. It was hard to tell. He sat on a cushion raised a good five feet above the dais, hunched over, his skin blackened from what looked like old, leathery burns--charred and long dried. His hair had devolved into ratted clumps, dreadlocks of the worst kind, and his eyes were glassy, unfettered by eyelids, which seemed to have been burnt away. He wore nothing but a crimson loincloth, and his ribs protruded so strongly that he looked like a stick figure or a praying mantis.
In front of him, a fountain of blood bubbled merrily, ringed by perpetual flames that neither wavered nor changed in intensity. They burned brightly, and the blood in the center smelled warm and sticky and fresh.
Regina stepped up to a pillow on the floor next to the fountain and knelt, her head down. "Great Father of the Sight, I come seeking your wisdom. Crawl, Blood Oracle of the Crimson Court, I seek your vision."
He let out a laughter that sounded like the wind whistling through dried corn husks and I smelled decay and dust and the scent of the tomb. "Regina, Crawl's favorite. The Blood Oracle recognizes you. Stand and ask, lovely bloody daughter, and offer payment for the Oracle's services."
She rose, her skirt brushing the ground. She was wearing a crimson leather bustier and a long black chiffon skirt. Now, she brushed back the skirt where it slit up one side to the thigh and pulled out a golden dagger. She turned toward me and motioned me forward.
"Wait--you aren't going to open my vein with that." I'd keep quiet as long as I thought I was relatively safe but this whole scenario wasn't quite what I'd expected, and things were looking worse the deeper into the night we went.
