Free King's Gambit by Ashley Meira Page B

thaumaturges.
    “Dorian,” Elise called.
    The little boy peeked his head into the sitting room. I slid down in my seat, trying to hide behind Alex’s athletic frame. Dorian’s owl-like eyes peered over at me as if he knew what I was doing, an almost cute smile on his lips. He padded over to us and looked down at my feet before turning to Elise.
    “Yes,” she said to his unasked question.
    Dorian vanished and came back a minute later with a pair of slippers. Alex tensed as the boy held the shoes up to me, his skin glowing a sickly white in the firelight. Feeling better that I wasn’t the only one creeped out by the boy, I took the slippers with an uneasy smile.
    “Thanks.”
    Dorian fluttered his eyes as if he was trying to get rid of an invasive eyelash, amused smile still in place, and exited the room. Alex and I traded looks, the same thought in both our minds: damn, that kid is creepy.
    “Is he your son?” Alex asked.
    “No.” Elise didn’t even blink. “Monsieur Khalil informed me of what happened. Do you have the ashes?”
    “Yeah,” I said, fishing out the vial as Alex handed the handkerchief over. If either of them thought anything of me pulling a dead man’s blood out of my cleavage, they kept it to themselves. “I took some of Franklin’s blood, too. Not that it’ll do much good now. Oh, and–” I gave her my shoe, which she took with a scrunched up face “–that has one of the assassins’ blood and eye juice.”
    “Vitreous humor,” she said.
    “That doesn’t paint as vivid an image.”
    “How long will it take for you to find something?” said Alex.
    Elise raised a brow. “All business, I see. How refreshing.”
    “Yeah, he’s a real professional,” I said, patting his shoulder. He stiffened at the contact and shifted away. The movement was marginal, but it spoke volumes. Didn’t we already go through this when we met Alistair? Could we please skip the repeat? “Always super serious. Very serious. No fun. Just straight and–”
    “I get the point,” Elise said. The throbbing vein in his neck told me Alex got the point, too. “Monsieur Franklin’s remains won’t do much for your or Monsieur Castinus’ objective, but I’ll see what I can do with the…shoe.”
    “You don’t want us to know what you’re doing,” Alex accused.
    “What did you see of your attackers?” she asked, not even glancing at Alex. “Were they wearing anything special? Did they have any abilities?”
    “Beyond super assassin skills?” At her narrowed eyes, I shook my head. “They had a gun to shoot Robert. One had a sword. At least two were able to cast fireballs. Their clothes were black, plain, with hooded shawls in dark red that had openings for their eyes.”
    “How strong were the fireballs?”
    “Strong enough to set a vampire on fire.”
    Elise blinked once, twice, then closed her eyes for a three count. “What color was the fire? Did it have any unusual properties?”
    “It was regular fire, Elise. Well, regular magic fire.” I conjured a flame in the palm of my hand. “Like this.”
    “What does it matter?” said Alex. “Do you know who these assassins are?”
    “No,” she said. “However, some groups do have specific signatures they use as a calling card, and if the fire had been green…”
    “Demonic influence,” I said. “You’ll be able to find traces of that in the blood, right? Demons give thralls their blood to help channel infernal magic.”
    Elise nodded. “That is correct. Anything demonic – or vampiric, since ghouls imbibe the blood of their masters – will show up when I perform the ritual.”
    “You think they could be ghouls?” I asked.
    “I think it’s possible.”
    “And you won’t let us see this ritual?” said Alex.
    “A ritual isn’t a performance; most magic users hate being watched while they practice,” I said, wishing he’d let up for a second. It’s like someone shoved an additional stick up his ass. “Especially for