Suicide Kings, page 19
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” I say. “He definitely plays the sub to Otto. I get the feeling that he tops from the bottom and Otto just hasn’t figured it out yet.”
“That’s an interesting theory,” she says. “And an image I really didn’t need.”
“You’re welcome. What about spouses, bodyguards?”
“Ah, well. Except for you and I, everyone came with an entourage, or at least a partner. Those didn’t last long.”
“How so?”
“There have been”—she does air quotes with her fingers— “ ‘accidents.’ ”
“I think I qualify as part of Amanda’s entourage.”
“Not the way she talks about it. She sees you as more of an interested third party. An ally, of course, but not with her. Would you like another drink? There’s more here and I’d hate to waste it.”
“Shouldn’t we be getting to the shindig?” I say.
“Oh, fuck them. This is the most interesting conversation I’ve had in years.”
“Okay, then. Top me up. How come you didn’t bring anyone?”
“I don’t know anyone I hate enough to subject to my family.” She pours the remainder in the shaker into our glasses. “People are going to die this weekend. People have already died this weekend. These fuckers are going to target the weakest links. No one’s going to risk bringing someone they really care about here.”
“Last question,” I say.
“Hit me.”
“Why are you here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Seriously? We’re gonna do it this way?” I should have figured. When your life is a constant game where you have to hide your cards, you’re not giving them up easily.
I tick off the points on my fingers. “You haven’t been to one of these in decades. You almost universally hate these people. None of them like you. Some of them want you dead. The rest want you to disappear. You can’t inherit. All of these psychopaths are acting true to form. But you? No, you’re here for a different reason than they are. I’d like to know what it is.”
“And if I don’t want to tell you?”
“I’ll ask Amanda and Gabriela. And if they don’t know, you might want to fix that. Because when the shit hits the fan, and we both know it will, you’ll have three fewer people at your back.”
“It’s complicated,” she says.
“Tell me something that isn’t.”
“True. But that’s what I told them. I need to see how a couple of things play out tonight. Then I’ll tell all three of you. They’ve agreed to this. How about you?”
“I wonder sometimes if there’s ever anything that isn’t a pain in the ass in this world,” I say. “Fine. If they’re okay with it, so am I. For the moment.”
“Then let’s go join the party,” she says. “I hear it’s going to be quite the event.”
Chapter 16
Lunch is being held in the solarium, or one of them, at least. Maybe it’s a sitting room. Or a dining room. The fuck do I know? This place is an architectural nightmare that would give M.C. Escher fits.
Siobhan and I stop in a room just next to it that gives me a decent view of everyone but enough shadows to keep me out of sight. They’re all standing or moving about with a predatory awkwardness, like a high school dance for sharks.
“When do I go in?” I say. My job right now is to walk in at the right time and see what happens. I’m like the play in Hamlet wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king. Or more like a bug bomb tossed into the room to see which of the roaches scatter.
“You’ll know,” she says. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go scandalize my siblings.” She puts a wide, and oh-so-fake smile on her face and strides into the room. I sit down to watch the festivities unfold.
The other room looks like a set of mismatched chess pieces. On one side there’s a queen—Helga, a statuesque blonde woman who looks to be in her mid-thirties—and three kings—her sons Otto and Hans, who look a lot like each other except for the massive cravat Otto is sporting around his neck, and Liam, who looks a lot like Attila, only younger. Two pawns—Otto’s lawyer, and Hans’s son Tobias—hover nearby. They’re all very Aryan.
On the other side stand three queens: Amanda, Gabriela, and Siobhan. And they look every inch their role. These women could lead an army, and at least one has. Siobhan stands out the most, of course. Not because of her skin tone so much as her outfit.
Amanda and Gabriela are wearing fairly conservative blouses, skirts, and flats. Gabriela’s hair is up in a bun that hides the purple ends, held together with a couple of hair sticks. Knowing her, they’re good for throwing or stabbing and are almost definitely poisoned. The pawn for their side isn’t on the board, yet.
“Oh, look,” Helga says. “It’s the bastard. Have you taken after your whore of a mother turning tricks in back alleys, Siobhan? Or are you doing it for free?” There’s a hint of a German accent, barely noticeable.
“It’s delightful to see you, Helga,” Siobhan says. “You’re looking better. Had some work done, I see. Speaking of back alleys, is that where you found your plastic surgeon?”
“Helga,” Liam says, upper-crust British, “Siobhan. Please. Being here is hard enough without you two sniping at each other.”
“Sniping?” Helga says. “Oh dear, no. She’s not worth sniping. I mean, look at her clothes. You look like a hussar. Did you dig up one of your old lovers again?”
“I wouldn’t want to make you jealous,” Siobhan says. “Seeing as they’re all much better preserved than you. But I have to say, dear, your tits are spectacular. Whose are they?”
“Enough,” Amanda says, her voice thundering through the room. Everyone’s eyes are on her.
“Yes, I agree,” Liam says, facing Amanda, who doesn’t so much as blink. “Enough of the lies. Where is our brother? We’ve been here almost two days and he has yet to grace us with his presence.”
“My father is dead,” Amanda says. She lets the silence drag a bit before she says, “He was murdered the night before last in his study. Someone was able to get through our wards and close enough to kill him.”
“Bullshit,” Otto says. “If he’s dead then you killed him.”
“You are the most likely suspect,” Liam says. “I take it you’ve received the inheritance?”
“I am the most likely suspect, yes,” she says. “But I know I didn’t do it. It was done by someone who knows the estate, and how to travel through it without being discovered. All of you have been here before.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Liam says.
“Yes, I’ve received the inheritance.”
The reactions are interesting. Young Tobias looks confused. I wonder if anyone’s even told him about any of this. Hans and Otto are trying to look subtle and calculating, but they’re doing as good a job as a dog trying not to drool over a steak. Liam looks skeptical, but not terribly upset.
And then there’s Helga. I know they were close until they had some sort of falling out. I was ready to discount her as some sort of spider, coldly sitting at the center of her web waiting for the right moment to strike. But she looks genuinely upset.
“Where’s the body?” Helga says. Her voice is quiet, but it commands the room despite the quaver in it.
Amanda waves a hand and an image appears in midair of the surgical suite we left Attila’s corpse in. The room’s been tidied up a bit, and the body’s been arranged less haphazardly on the gurney.
“This is horseshit,” Hans says. “How do we know this is even true?”
“Bigsby,” Amanda says. The butler appears at her side. “Is this the corpse of Attila Werther?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And who discovered the body?”
“Presumably, I did, ma’am, after which I alerted you and Miz Cortez.”
“Bigsby, why do you say presumably?” Liam says.
“When Mister Werther passed, the inheritance, and therefore ownership of the estate, passed to Miss Amanda. My memories directly before and for a few minutes after the transfer are gone. All I can say is that when I regained awareness I was in the study standing next to Master Werther. I do not seem to have moved from the spot between the time I lost awareness and the time I regained it, which was approximately eight minutes.”
“That’s awfully convenient,” Hans says.
“We’re going to take the word of a construct?” Otto says. “This is absurd. Take us to the body.”
“Bigsby isn’t something that can lie,” Liam says. “And if you’d try using that melon at the end of your neck to think with rather than for guillotine practice, you’d realize she couldn’t have done it. The curse would have killed her.”
“By that logic none of us could have,” Otto says, pointing at Gabriela. “The Mexican girl is the only one who could.”
“Would you like your head cut off again, Otto?” Gabriela says. “I could arrange that.”
“She couldn’t have done it either,” Liam says, clearly fed up. “For the same reason. If she had, Amanda would be dead. We all know how the curse works. None of the restrictions were lifted until the conclave started and that was today.”
“We still should see the body,” Hans says. “We have a right—”
“The body is being preserved,” Liam says. “Would you rather my brother’s corpse rot in a morgue drawer?” He turns to Amanda. “Attila was able to use a sort of temporal stasis, that as far as I know none of us have ever been able to master. There’s been speculation that it’s something that comes with the inheritance. Is that right?”
“It is. I have the room suspended in time.”
“Then shut it off,” says Hans. “I demand—”
“No,” Amanda says.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said no,” Amanda says. Her voice is like cold steel. “In case you haven’t fully realized yet, I am now the head of the family. Not only do I have my own powers, which you all know are a match for any of yours, I also have the power from the inheritance itself. If any of you would like to debate this, I would be happy to do so on the lawn where no one else can get hurt. Hans? Otto? Interested?” Silence.
“Why are you preserving him like that?” Helga says. Her eyes haven’t left the image this whole time.
“I don’t want the body being disturbed. I have a specialist coming in to examine it and the house. With his help I believe we’ll be able to find out who the killer is and how it was done.”
“What sort of specialist?” Otto says. There’s my cue.
“Sorry, I’m late,” I say, stepping into the room. “Did I miss anything? Oh, Otto. Looking good. Dig the cravat.”
“What is he doing here?” Otto is glaring at Amanda and pointing at me.
“Now don’t lose your head,” I say. “I’m the specialist.”
Everyone is looking at me but Helga, who’s still examining the image. When she turns and sees me, her eyes go wide in shock and her wineglass slips from suddenly nerveless fingers to shatter on the floor.
“Ex-excuse me,” she says and rushes from the room. Liam looks at me more intensely, and when he sees whatever he’s looking for, he gets the same shocked look, but instead of running from the room, he starts laughing.
“Oh, this is just too good,” he says. “How did I not see it before? I’ll go get Helga. I’m sure she’s had a hell of a fright. Is there anything else to discuss, Amanda?”
“Not for me, Uncle,” Amanda says. “Anyone?”
Before Otto and Hans can start yelling again Liam says, “Then we will meet you all at dinner tonight. Otto, Hans, go make yourselves useful, or something.”
“I demand—” Otto starts, but Liam is on him in a flash, slamming him against the wall with his hand around his throat.
“You won’t demand a goddamn thing, you little cumstain,” Liam says. “You had your chance and you pissed it away. Now my brother is dead, and given your particular ambitions, you’re rather suspect. If it were up to me, I’d simply assume you did it and have you skinned, but it isn’t, so I strongly suggest you stay out of your cousin’s way. She won’t be as forgiving as I.”
He drops Otto, who scrambles away, clutching at his throat. I can see a thin line of fresh blood seeping into his cravat.
“Hans,” Otto says with a voice like a cheese grater, “we’re leaving.”
“But—”
“I said, we’re leaving.” Otto glares at me then marches through the French doors leading outside with Hans and Tobias in tow. Tobias looks back at me, eyes filled with terror. Shit. Hans and Otto are going to take their frustrations out on him, I can tell.
“Can I kill them?” I say once they’ve finally left the room.
“I call dibs on Otto,” Gabriela says. “You killed him once. Now it’s my turn. And I want Helga. Bitch thought I was a servant when she got here. Handed me her bags and told me she didn’t believe in tipping.”
“Yeah, about that,” I say. “Why didn’t you just kill her right there and then? Where did this newfound restraint come from?”
“I asked her not to,” Amanda says. Her energy is spent. She sags and falls into a chair. Jesus, just being in this room with those people must be draining.
“Speaking of Helga,” I say. “The fuck was that all about?”
“I have no idea,” Amanda says.
“Oh, I do.” Siobhan goes to the bar. Does every room in this house have a bar?
“Do I have to guess?” I say.
“No, but you have to wait until I’m done making a cocktail.” She pours ice and three or four types of liquor into a shaker and then the whole mess goes into a highball glass. “There. She lived here after World War II, then not long after, Attila kicked her out. Until then the two of them were tight. Everyone her brother knew, she knew. Got close to a couple of them. Very close.”
I do a little math. “Shit.”
“Oh, no,” Gabriela says. “Seriously?”
“What is it?” Amanda says. “What am I missing?”
“My grandfather and Helga were an item,” I say. “And since I look exactly like him, she’s probably a little surprised.”
“Was she any good in the sack?” Siobhan says, sipping her drink.
“You know, I’m starting to like you less and less. Okay, so Gramps was banging Helga. That’s one mystery solved. My view of the room wasn’t as good as yours. How did everyone react?”
“Liam didn’t react much to the news that Attila’s dead. But he looked a touch worried when you walked in,” Gabriela says. “Maybe he’s got something in the works that a necromancer might throw a wrench into.”
“Helga seemed genuinely upset,” Amanda says.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Siobhan says. “Helga manipulates. She’s very good at showing feelings that don’t exist.”
“What’s your deal with her, anyway?” I say.
“Besides the fact that she’s a lying, manipulative, bigoted, cruel, narcissistic sociopath?”
“Yeah.”
“She borrowed a dress one time and never returned it.”
“Siobhan,” Gabriela says. I know that tone. She’s had enough bullshit for today.
“There’s a particular pattern in our family,” Siobhan says. “We can’t kill each other, so we hurt each other instead. The people we love are always in the crosshairs. Eventually, one of us pulls the trigger.”
“Who did you lose?” Amanda says.
“My mother for starters. Helga was right. My mother was a whore. Something our father couldn’t abide. Oh, fucking her wasn’t the problem, I was the problem. I was raised by her for the first ten years of my life, before my magic manifested. When it did, Dad found out and came to collect me. Said he was going to teach me how to use my magic, how to be strong. Then he slit my mother’s throat in front of me. Said it was to show me that you never let anyone know you have a weakness. But he was just a psychopath.”
“Jesus,” Gabriela says. “Your own father?”
“Well, he couldn’t kill me without triggering the curse, could he? One of our ancestors discovered that that includes killing through neglect. But he could hurt me. And so could the rest of them.”
“Helga?” Siobhan’s eyes go distant as her body tenses.
“Murdered my husband in 1919,” she says. “We never had children and she couldn’t bear the thought that we might. Can’t dirty up the gene pool, you know. He survived the entire war only to be shot in the face by my sister as he stepped off the train.” She finishes her drink.
“Be careful, Amanda,” she says. “These people are not your friends. I am not your friend. We all use each other one way or another. Even if we don’t mean to.”
“Bringing us,” Gabriela says, “to why you’re here.”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Siobhan says. “I thought it was obvious.”
And once she says that, it is. “You came to kill Helga,” I say.
“The reins holding us back are loosened a bit during a conclave. Normally, we can’t even be involved in the planning of a plot or the curse would kill us as soon as our target died.”
“And you haven’t tried because you can’t be the one who actually does the deed,” Gabriela says.
“Traps are really popular during a conclave. You just set it, and if it goes off you technically haven’t broken the law. Except—” The energy in the room cranks up a few notches. Amanda stands and walks to the bar to face Siobhan. To her credit Siobhan doesn’t even blink.
“Lots of things can go wrong with a trap,” Amanda says. “If you want to be certain, you need to make sure someone actually sets it off. I think you were trying to find someone else to kill her for you. Is that what you were going to do? Trick one of us into killing her for you? Trick me into killing her for you?”
