in those seethes know what scent to follow. They are, in turn, consulting with their allies. We will find all of them.
“We are also presently trying to locate the vampire who made them all. He or she seemed to be active between thirty and forty years ago—approximately when all of the vampires I found were made. Since we did not find any newer ones, like as not that vampire was disposed of. But I do not want those witches to own a Master Vampire they can make do their bidding.”
Only Master Vampires could make other vampires.
“You are giving me a lot of information,” I said. “Let me give you some in return.”
“That is not the bargain I had with Stefan,” she warned me.
“We are allies,” I said. “But be warned that some of this is speculation.”
“So noted,” she said.
“I think that Frost wanted to destroy the vampires,” I told her. “And the werewolves as well. He engineered the whole rogue Cantrip debacle—with the end goal of having Adam assassinate Senator Campbell. We assume that it would have been revealed to be a werewolf kill.”
“Whereas Frost would have brought the vampires out to the public,” she said. “Yes, we figured that one out as soon as we realized he was Hardesty-bred. I had not made the werewolf connection, though I don’t know if that will be useful to me.” She made an exasperated noise that might have been more effective if I didn’t know that she feared those witches enough to force Stefan—and presumably all of her vampires—into the seethe for protection. “Filthy witches.”
“You are sure that you are safe in your seethe?” I asked.
“We have Wulfe, Mercy, but thank you for your concern,” she said dryly.
“Do you know how many of the Hardesty witches there are here in the Tri-Cities?”
“You should ask your goblins that,” she said. “But they will tell you that there are only two. They checked into a hotel for a few days before moving in with Elizaveta’s brood.”
“Huh,” I said. “Adam’s people have them in an RV in an RV park—though they’ve moved on.”
“I will give that information to my people,” she said. “We might be able to help. Do you have a description of the RV?”
“Adam will,” I told her. “Shall I have him call?”
“It might be useful.” She paused. “There is a saying about the Hardesty witches—they travel in pairs. I don’t know much about them, Mercy, though I am fixing that. They have stayed under my radar. I have inquiries out with seethes that are closer to their home base. The vampires who live near them are unwilling or unable to talk about them. But a vampire from Kentucky told me this creepy little bit of doggerel verse.”
Wulfe’s voice broke in. “One by one, two by two, the Hardesty witches are traveling through. With a storm of curses, they call from their tomes; they will drink your blood and dine on your bones.”
“Hmm,” Marsilia said into the silence that followed. “It sounds remarkably more horrid when you say it, Wulfe.”
“It’s because I’m scarier to start with,” he said.
“Do you need anything more that I can offer?” she asked me.
“Is Stefan okay?”
Stefan grunted an affirmative that managed to sound irritated but not enraged. Pretty impressive communication skills considering I was getting that with the filter of (presumably) a gag and a phone.
“Can I call you if I have more questions?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said.
“I appreciate it,” I told her, and hung up.
“What does this Frost character have to do with what’s going on now?” asked Sherwood, who hadn’t been here for that episode.
“I think it’s the other way around,” I said. “These witches were behind Frost. And now they’re screwing with us again.”
“The vampire is afraid of them,” said Sherwood softly.
“So am I,” I said. “I wish I knew where Adam was.”
10
Kyle and Zack showed up about twenty minutes later, suitcases in hand.
Zack said, “I told Kyle that this didn’t sound like a call for a meeting. This sounded more like a huddle. And huddles sometimes go overnight.”
“Warren and Zack have been watching football together again,” said Kyle, kissing my cheek lightly. “It’s left Zack using sports analogies.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m not sure how a huddle is different from a meeting.”
“A meeting is boring,” said a little girl in passing.
She was about six and carrying a bottle that was probably for the baby I could hear fussing in the living room. The baby belonged to Luke and Libby, Luke’s wife. But the