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I took the sword out from beneath the table to examine it. Its blade was a gleaming dark black that seemed to absorb even this dim light, and yet how could it gleam if that was true? There was no trace of Marielle’s blood on it. It was like the blade had swallowed it up.
I ran my finger along it’s superfine edge and shivered. I knew it was sharp — that was obvious — and yet it did not cut my skin. I pressed harder. My skin dimpled beneath it, but still no bleeding. I walked over to a bush and swiped the sword at it. A couple of thumb-thick branches dropped off as if they were made of soft butter. “Woah!” I said. Now the bush was lopsided. The gardeners were not going to be pleased with me.
Finch had followed me and looked impressed. “Cool!” he said. “But I know you didn’t have it on you when you came in!”
“Didn’t I?” I replied. I didn’t know the guy. I certainly wasn't about to tell him it had appeared out of thin air as if by magic. Or that my navelstone had vibrated so fiercely when it appeared. Or that the sword was still pulsing with the want for more blood, making me increasingly worried it might make me stab someone the longer I held in my my hand. Or that I was afraid that if I let go of it, it would disappear without trace and I would never see it again.
I swooshed the sword experimentally through the air, enjoying
the feel of it. Finch jumped out of the way as it came a tad too close to him. It’s tip lopped off the head of a glorious nearby flower that looked a bit like a scarlet hibiscus, but was fleshier and deliciously fragrant.
I was about to ask Finch what the flowers were, but the words froze on my tongue. Leonie was kneeling on the grass beside the flowers. She plucked one and put it in her hair. A band was playing jaunty music and many others were dancing all around us. Leonie was humming merrily. She was extremely pretty, but her pouty smile was crooked in a way that stopped her from being beautiful. Her face was heart-shaped and her long chestnut hair tumbled in curly abandon down her back. She wore a scarlet dress topped with an extremely tight corseted bodice that thrust her small breasts up into prominence. Not the sort of thing I would have expected the catering staff to wear. The most interesting thing about her was her dancing mischievous eyes that were full of life. They looked like they held secrets and she might just tell you if you pleased her enough.
She stood up and carefully placed the hibiscus-like flower behind her hair. Someone bumped into her, nearly pushing her over. It was Audriett, who frowned severely at Leonie, annoyed at Leonie for loitering in her path. Leonie immediately looked away from the vampire’s gaze, but her little smile stayed on her face. As soon as Audriett had passed, a displeased-looking brunette in a flowing lilac gown that looked very well on her came charging out of the dancing crowd. She looked only a few years older than Leonie but she clearly had authority over the girl because she seized Leonie’s wrist and tried to yank her away.
“It’s time for you to get back to your room,” the woman hissed. The older woman was gorgeous, but Leonie had youth on her side and the woman seemed to be despairing of it.
“Oh, don’t fuss Constance!” Leonie said, tugging her wrist away from Constance. “I’ll go when I’m good and ready.”
And then she reached out and grabbed the arm of the nearest young man. He had been dancing with some other woman, but he did not look displeased when Leonie stole him away. The man was Rodrigge. He and Leonie danced on, leaving his partner Marielle standing beside Constance and looking furious. Leonie blew a kiss at Marielle and then she threw back her head and laughed.
The vision faded away. I realized I had been staring at the hibiscus like flowers for rather too long. “Are you okay?” Finch asked.
“Sure. Fine,” I said brightly. “I was just wondering what those flowers were.”
And why the hell Audriett Ronin had lied to me about Leonie Ashbeck being a shy loner. On the night she’d died she had stolen Rodrigge away from Marielle and she had enjoyed it. She had been a girl who enjoyed a party. And Audriett had lied about another thing too. She’d said the sheep had not been at the party, but Constance Ashbeck had been there. And dressed to impress too.
Finch was looking at me thoughtfully. “You’ve realized something,” he said. “What is it? Is it anything to do with Zezi?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. Not Zezi. I just don’t think that Audriett Ronin was telling the entire truth.”
“Big surprise,” Finch said sarcastically. “She is a vampire, remember?”
“Dude! Will you let it go? How would you like it if I hated you for being a goblin?”
“That’s different. Hey! Where are you going?”
I had started to stalk in the direction that Audriett had gone, following her route and into one of the tunnels leading out of the cavern. This was a very nice plushly carpeted corridor, the walls papered with silk and hung with fancy oil paintings. The light here was dimmer than in the cavern. Behind me I heard Finch hurrying to catch me up.
“I want to get a look at the room that Leonie died in. I reckon it must be this way.” I kept my sword pointed in front of me as I went. I was getting rather attached to the thing already.
“This is not a good idea,” Finch hissed in my ear, clearly afraid that someone would hear us.
“Relax! I have a feeling that his room was down this way.” I followed my feeling until we come to a doorway at the end of the corridor. The door was a circle seven feet tall and made of thick stone, and was open. “Would you look at this ting?” I muttered, stepping into the bedroom to take a look at the other side.
Finch followed me in, nervously eying up the huge four poster bed that dominated the center of the chamber. It was neatly made but I had the feeling nobody had slept in it in a long time. On a wall above it hung an oil painting of Steffane Ronin looking gorgeous in a glowering vampire sort of way. I laughed. “Narcissistic much?” I said.
“You’ve had a look,” said Finch. “Now let’s go.”
But I was busy trying to shut the huge heavy door. The murder case report had said the door had been blown open by a mage on the morning after the murder so I assumed this door was a replacement or had been expertly repaired. I guessed it was the same type as the original door. I pushed it with all my might but the thing would not budge an inch. The larger part of it was recessed into the wall, and I could not see a mechanism for rolling it out and into its place.
“How do you think it works?” I asked Finch.
His attention had been distracted by some long thin skewers that were dangling off a rack on the wall beside the bed. “That is sick,” he said.
“So they have weird decorative tastes. So what?”
“They’re not decorative. They’re... You know, to keep things interesting in the bedroom.”
