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Several in the pack sounded a supportive howl.
Asa hung his head with a protracted sigh. “High Priestess, what we want is an investigation. A fair one, which is our right under our laws. That is all we ask.”
Cassia’s teeth clamped inside her lip, then she glanced at Cyril. To most, this action would appear normal—a wife seeking the support of her husband—but Romy knew better.
Her mother was frightened.
Apprehension had no place in Cassia’s world. Romy couldn’t recall her mother ever being scared about anything. Not when she’d rid the entire Southern United States of a goblin infestation. Not when she’d turned a hurricane away from New Orleans. Not even when she’d fought the incubus who nearly kidnapped her daughters.
But now? Cassia was genuinely afraid, yet no one—sans her husband and daughter—would ever know. Fear was weakness, and weakness was not allowed.
“If this is your choice, present your testimony, and we will begin an investigation into this matter immediately.”
Asa attempted to make eye contact with Bastian, but Bastian would not engage him or anyone. “It’s come to my attention that new vamps are in town. Not one, but two.”
Cassia drew back.
“I assumed you didn’t know, ma’am. As far as I can tell, they haven’t registered with the PC yet.”
“No, no new entries have been added in the Preternatural Constabularies in over a month,” Cassia confirmed.
“Fucking shocker, that,” Silvan quipped.
Asa flinched but didn’t directly address Silvan’s growing insubordination. “The question is… didMonsieur Marchlandknow they were in his territory… detective that he is.”
“I’ll ask the questions, Asa. Too easily, you forget your place and the breadth of these charges. I will not speak to you any longer.” Cassia pointed a finger at his mouth, and an imaginary needle sewed his top lip to his bottom. “Silvan Rincewind, please continue on your father’s behalf. Butwatchyour tone with me, for I am in no mood to suffer crazed fools this evening.”
“Mmm… mmm,” Asa squealed as he tried to pry open the invisible stitches.
“Keep struggling, and I’ll make it permanent.”
Silvan screwed his mouth together in a tight frown. His nostrils flared as he sucked in the cold night air, bracing. “High Priestess, we would appreciate any assistance in the discovery of who killed Uncle Claude.” He grumbled a low roar, burying it with a hard look at the sky. “Please.”
“I shall take your petition under consideration.” Cassia scribbled something on a paper and passed it to her sister, Selene. “Monsieur Marchland, will you please approach?”
Bastian and his interpreter were in front of Cassia before she set down her pen.
“Did you know new vampires were in New Orleans?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the faerie said. She didn’t appear to be in a trance, nor did she need to have physical contact with Bastian to assist him, which made Romy wonder if he could read and control minds.
If so, could he read hers?
“And did you evaluate them properly before allowing them to settle?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you report their arrival to the PC?” Her hushed voice was still audible.
Bastian shook his head.
“No, ma’am. This is my mistake,” said the faerie. “We’ve had other distractions, and we’ll rectify this immediately. But I am certain they were not involved in the death of Claude Rincewind.”
Cassia tilted her head ever so slightly. “How so?”
“I can provide an alibi.”
She exhaled, relieved. “You can?”
