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Just as soon as he told me where Sig was.
Davos leaned forward, leering. “Why don’t you ask his pretty human servant?”
Chapter Twenty-One
My blood went cold at the mention of Ingrid.
Ingrid, who no one had seen or heard from since Sig disappeared. Ingrid, who had spent seven hundred years helping him with his daytime needs.
“What did you do to her?” I growled.
“I don’t know what you mean. I simply suggested that if you’re looking for Sig, then you might want to start with the person who knew him best.” Another shrug. “That’s all.”
“I never said Sig was missing.”
“What?” He faltered.
“I asked you why it was he would change his mind about your warrant, but I never told you he was missing. So how did you know that?”
Davos paused, then said, “You implied it. If he was around, you could ask him yourself why he changed his mind.”
“Bullshit. Where. Is. Sig?” I was starting to lose my patience with this particular song and dance, and frankly I didn’t know if Davos was going to tell me anything useful. Maybe I should just stick a knife in him now and get back to some proper detective work.
He seemed to sense my rope was quickly coming to an end, because he looked towards the door again. “I have no idea where your vampire is. Perhaps he got sick of seeing your pinched little face and moved to a different country.”
“Rude.”
“That’s what I would do.”
“Tell me—” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence. The echoing sound of a dozen different police officers bursting into the building interrupted me.
Amid the cacophony the lights in the space went up, forcing me to blink repeatedly from the suddenness of the change. In that moment, Davos was on his feet, making a break for it.
I kicked the table between us towards him, grabbing the knife before it hit the floor. The falling table caught him in the foot, sending him stumbling in his getaway. I lunged at him, tackling him to the hardwood as he tried to get up again, and though my wei
ght wasn’t considerable, the surprise of my assault kept him pinned for the time being.
As did the knife pressed to his neck.
“You’re going to tell me where he is,” I snarled.
“Fuck you.”
I pushed the knife deeper into his skin, and he hissed.
“Tell me,” I demanded.
Which was, unfortunately, the precise moment Mercedes came up the steps, gun drawn, and saw the scene laid out before her. She gave me an apologetic half-smile, as if she wished she could just turn around and look the other way.
She was no great fan of vampires.
Especially ones who killed human girls.
But more than anything, she was a good cop, and her moral compass pointed true north at all times.
“Put the knife down, Secret,” she said.
“I have a warrant for his execution,” I offered hopefully.
