Page 62 of Tested
She didn’t, but my gut said we’d been visited by Dian Cecht, the one they call the healer. Dian Cecht, son of the Morrigan’s husband Dagda by a different goddess.If this is all some kind of metaphysical marital spat, I’m going to be so pissed.
“…start a war if she can,” I mumble, earning a glare from Smith.
“Send me the bill and I’ll have the department pay it.”
That makes her laugh. “Oh yeah, I’m just sure the business office of the LAPD is going to be good with an invoice from a fucking necromancer.”
She takes another hit off the bottle, caps it, and shoves herself to her feet. “As much fun as that was, I’ve got another gig. You two take care and, uh,meascach, be careful. I don’t chat up many living gods, but the force of his concern about made me gag.”
Looping the satchel over her arm, she’s got the bottle in her hand as she heads for the bridge. We follow more slowly, and by the time we reach the lawn, she’s disappeared.
“Well that was…” I can’t think of what to call it. Disappointing? Frustrating? Minimally helpful? I have no idea what to make of the stuff about the Morrigan. Which vampire did the spirit mean? Not Trajan. He’s not up to anything evil.
“You going to explain that?” Smith sounds testy, and to be honest, I can’t blame him. Still, he’s been willing to share, so I give him the bullet points – without mentioning my family connections to the story.
“So…” Smith drags out the word. “One of the oldest of the Celtic living gods hooked up with an elven princess, who broke up with her and then disappeared, and now this Morrigan may or may not be trying to start a war between the vampires and the elves.”
“More or less, yes.”
“Why does she care what the vampires and the elves do?”
“I don’t know.” Frustration leaks out in a sigh. “And to be honest, I’m not even sure it’s possible. I mean, the vampires don’t have any kind of central organization the way the weres do. At least the elves have royalty who can bring their subjects together. Vampires owe loyalty to their makers, but that’s about as far as it goes. A war between the vampires and the elves would be a quick one, because the elves would coordinate their efforts and stake them all while the vampires were still deciding whether or not to trust each other.”
Still combing the facts to find the Morrigan’s angle, I follow Smith to his car. He takes me to the park-n-ride where I left the Taurus, and we make a plan to regroup in the morning.
“Before we split up, I have a question.” I’m halfway out of the car and my eyes are gritty with fatigue. Murder investigations don’t run on vampire time. They’re more of a 24/7 operation. “Besides Jacques Betancourt and that vampire sire in Pasadena, are there any other pods in the greater LA area?”
Smith pulls an irritated face. “I’ve got that in a file somewhere. I’ll shoot you a copy.”
“Thanks,” I say, climbing the rest of the way out of his Cherokee. He drives off and I stare at my Taurus, wishing I’d had the cojones to rent something a little more comfortable.
“Don’t need a Mercedes-Maybach, but damn.” The engine starts, so I count it as a win and head for home.
I’ve got a bottle of cold brew in the car so by the time I pull in behind Trajan’s Range Rover, caffeine has my motor running. Still, I pause for a minute to sort through my priorities.
The Morrigan has made it clear the princess is being held by a vampire, and that finding her should be my top priority. After combing through my old files, the packet from the elf Kowalski, and the cartoonishly thin file Poole sent me, I hadn’t found anything to dispute that. Everything pointed to a vampire, most likely Jacques Betancourt.
Per my old files, the last time the Princess Tatiana was seen, she was with Betancourt.
And although Betancourt has more money than god, he’s rumored to be linked to a series of petty thefts of magical materials he could easily have bought. He’s also been in league with David’s late uncle Brendan, on some level, a relationship I can’t easily explain.
And –surprise!– Poole had actually sent a guy into Betancourt’s house, and while he hadn’t found the princess, he reported a weirdly blank space, a closet his sensors couldn’t penetrate.
So, Princess Tatiana might have decided that powerful vampires were her thing and moved on to another after Betancourt, but nothing in the files hints at that.
I figure I must be down to about sixty hours before hitting the Morrigan’s deadline, and the message tonight was pretty much preaching to the choir. I don’t trust the Morrigan, and other than Trajan, I don’t trust any vampires.
Due diligence would have me contact other vampire pods in the city in a way that doesn’t involve Trajan. Hopefully, Smith will follow through and send me some names. LA is a big place, but there can’t be more than one or two other pods or there wouldn’t be any humans with enough blood left to clog the freeways the way they do.
Next on my list is the high school murders. The snake tonight was interesting, although I couldn’t tell if it was a threat or not. Hard to threaten a dead woman, right?
With any luck, the news David didn’t want to share by text will push at least one of my priorities along.
The house is quiet when I let myself in. I find David on his laptop in the living room.
“Trajan was getting twitchy so I sent him downstairs to the weight room,” he says. “He might not be able to bulk up, but at least he’s not getting on my nerves anymore.”
He sets aside his computer and hops up. Coming so close I’m fluttering his hair when I exhale, he wraps his arms around my waist. “I won’t tell him, Connor. I promise. You have to, though.”
