How to Rattle an Undead Couple - Hailey Edwards Page 0,41
smacked my palm on the bar. “We’ll have a chat and see where we go from there.”
Withdrawing my trusty pocketknife, still dripping pocket peppermints, I got ready to do what I did best.
Well, okay. Fine. I probably snacked better than I necromanced, but still.
Once Leisha sat in a chair opposite me, I watched Linus draw restraining sigils on her ankles and wrists to keep them bound to her chair. Secure as we could make her, I gestured for Lethe to remove the gag.
“Let me go,” Leisha spat. “I don’t know anything.”
People really never got tired of lying to me. “Who were you meeting?”
“I was watering a friend’s plants. That’s all.”
As I had seen the photos, that was easy to debunk. “A friend in a rental with no plants?”
The click of her teeth snapping together might have intimidated someone who hadn’t met a gwyllgi.
“I can force you to cooperate.” I didn’t enjoy it, but I would do it. “I’m asking you to do the right thing.”
“I will report you to the Lyceum for this gross abuse of power.”
“I tried,” I said to the gathered witnesses. “I gave her a chance to cooperate of her own free will.”
The bite of the knife into my palm barely registered as pain. I was used to the cost of my magic, and I had learned it worked best with a fresh source. There was a price for power, always, and I paid it each time I used mine.
“We’re short on time here. Negotiations are over. We’re moving straight into a light compulsion that will force you to answer me and a verification sigil that will let us know we’re on the right track. It won’t hurt unless you fight it. I recommend you comply, unless you enjoy being zapped for each lie you tell.”
Leisha clenched her jaw, but it wouldn’t help her. I had done this enough to perfect my technique.
“Who were you meeting?”
“Eloise Marchand.”
Green.
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and LJ must have felt it. He kicked enough to wind me.
Well, that definitely explained why the Grande Dame had been divided in her certainty over their target.
Generally, when it came to the Marchands, they hunted their own. As in, me. But the Grande Dame was my mother-in-law. Maybe that counted? She had certainly been concerned enough to beef up security for both of us.
“Eloise Marchand,” I repeated, the shape of my cousin’s name hard to fit in my mouth. “Why?”
“She wants revenge.”
Green.
“Where does the Grande Dame fit in?”
“She sentenced Rhiannon Marchand to Atramentous.”
Green.
“That happened years ago.” Lethe narrowed her eyes on Leisha. “Why act now?”
Savoring her tiny rebellion, Leisha ignored Lethe and kept her lips sealed.
With an annoyed growl, I demanded, “Why act now?”
“Eloise is pregnant.”
Green.
The timing of the attack still bothered me. “How far along?”
“Eight months.”
Green.
Reading my unease, Linus addressed her. “What does she hope to achieve by abducting Mother?”
She had the sense not to play games with him.
“Eloise wants her mother present when her first grandchild is born.” Leisha curled her lip at the sentiment. “She wants to make an even trade, a mother for a mother.”
Green.
“She mentioned two weeks.” Linus honed his flat stare. “Why did she act early?”
“Idiocy?” A shrug rolled through her shoulders. “Opportunity?”
Green.
“Why hasn’t Eloise been in contact with us?” I pressed. “How can we negotiate without the terms?”
“Perhaps she lost her nerve after she struck?” Leisha frowned. “Impulsiveness is often regretted.”
Black.
Hypotheticals weren’t true or false, just speculation. They registered as null to the sigil.
“Okay.” That provided us with one set of motivations, but not hers. “Why are you helping her?”
“Eloise, as acting Dame Marchand, has agreed to grant me access to the Marchand archives.”
Green.
Unease slithered through my stomach, and LJ took offense. “Looking for anything in particular?”
“The Marchand collection documents everything that is known about the goddess-touched condition by a bloodline rich with them. What scholar wouldn’t want to study such a powerful evolutionary quirk of necromantic biology?”
Green.
Only the years I had spent watching Linus perfect the art of wearing masks prevented shock from plastering itself across my face. Shock…and outrage. The Marchands had refused me, a goddess-touched necromancer from their bloodline, access to their collection, but they bargained it away to her?
A cleansing breath gave me clarity, and I exhaled my anger.
“Did Eloise think to mention the Marchand collection was donated to the Athenaeum?”
Fury painted her cheeks red, and she bristled. “You’re lying.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” I sipped from my smoothie. “I also happen to know where the Athenaeum is currently housed, and I can