Page 82 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 1

That last bit was directed at the man himself, who had just come to the top of the stairs and was looking down at the two of us with an expression of restrained horror.

“Gwendoline,” he said, smoothing down the front of his shirt as he descended the stairs. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The woman—Gwendoline—smiled at him, holding out a hand to him as he reached her. His eyes flicked to me, and he kissed it. God, of course this was Gwendoline. Of course this was the sort of woman Gabriel’s parents would have wanted him to marry. She was so poised, it was infuriating; the woman probably even sneezed regally. She was wearing the sort of matte lipstick that, the few times I’d tried it, made my lips look as dry and flaky as a shedding lizard. On her, it looked velvety, and soft as rose petals. Suddenly, I realized my jaw was clenched.

“Your mother thought you could use some help,” she said, and Gabriel’s face shuttered politely.

“And she sent you,” he said.

Gwendoline shrugged elegantly, spreading her arms, and making it a whole-body gesture like she was on stage, performing for the back row. “It’s part of the whole… arrangement, isn’t it? For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, all that.”

Gabriel caught my eye, and, to his credit, barely flinched at the look on my face.

“Well, if you’re going to be helping out, you showed up at just the right time,” I said, pulling a vial of the leftover truth potion from my pocket. I smiled, wide and unpleasant. “But first I’m gonna have to ask you some questions.”

Soon, Gwendoline had drunk the potion and shed her thick fur coat, revealing bare arms, and the edges of a clan tattoo like Gabriel’s. She’d asked him for something to drink, and he’d practically bolted away from the two of us, returning with a delicate glass mug of blood. Now, she and I were in the sitting room where I’d questioned the others.

She settled on the chaise lounge with the grace of a panther, looking completely at ease as she ran one perfectly manicured finger over the lip of her mug. I stayed standing, leaning against a table with my arms crossed. Since my hands were hidden from her, I fidgeted with a hangnail on my thumb, letting the bright little spark of pain ground me.

“I’m going to be recording this,” I told her, and she waved a hand through the air.

“By all means,” she said. It had probably been too much to hope that that would throw her even a little bit.

I set my phone on the table next to my hip and hit record.

“Tell me your first and last name and date of birth,” I instructed.

“Gwendoline Ash,” she said promptly, flicking a strand of silky hair out of her face. It fell into place perfectly, and I indulged in a brief but vivid fantasy about taking a pair of scissors to her hair. “August twentieth, by modern reckoning, 1154.”

“Have you ever worked with Gabriel’s father? Given him information about Gabriel?”

She paused, considering. “I’ve never worked with the man, although my parents coordinate with him on council business. The only information I’ve ever given him about Gabriel has been minor. Small talk. Iskra and I talk occasionally, but generally about the status of my relationship with Gabriel. Roland isn’t exactly interested in the details.”

“Have you ever intentionally told him something Gabriel wouldn’t want him to know?”

She pursed her lips. “No.” I didn’t bother asking about unintentional slips. I got the sense everything that came out of her mouth had made it past a dozen layers of inspection, and possibly a peer review.

“Do you know anything about Nathan’s disappearance?” I asked, pushing away from the table, pacing back and forth slowly.

Gwendoline let out a musical titter. “I don’t even know who Nathan is,” she said, like it was a cute little joke.

“He’s Gabriel’s friend, and he’s missing,” I told her coldly. Her amusement faded, and her expression smoothed back into one of glossy poise. She sipped her blood, then licked her lips with a sharp pink tongue.

I exhaled sharply through my nose. Back on track, I told myself. You’ve been asking these questions all afternoon. Stick to the script.

“Are you currently involved in anything you’re trying to keep from Gabriel?” I asked.

“I think you’re drastically overestimating how much stock I put in Gabriel’s opinion of me,” she said casually. “I’m not hiding any devious little schemes from him if that’s what you’re asking. Or any devious large schemes, for that matter. None of my current manipulation is being done at his expense.”

“Charming,” I grumbled to myself, then turned to face her fully. “Would you ever willingly hurt him?”

“No,” Gwendoline said promptly, then cocked her head. I watched the glint of the spell wash over her eyes. “Unless it was in a sexual context, but I wouldn’t do anything that would cause him lasting damage. And even then,” she added, her voice dropping to a purr. “He would have to ask me very nicely first.”

My fingernail slipped against the hangnail I’d been fussing with, and I felt a tiny spot of wetness. Gwendoline’s nostrils flared, and her eyes zeroed in on my hand, still hidden in the fold of my elbow.

“Are you all right, my dear?” she asked, sugary-sweet as chocolate-covered cyanide. “You seem to be bleeding.”

I ignored her, jamming my finger against the recording button on my phone. The flow of red lines showed that our conversation stopped. I let my phone sit on the desk and stared at her. I was grateful I hadn’t sat down. It was a cheap trick, but being able to look down at her was at least one tiny advantage.

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