The Scarlet Deep
Page 54
Carwyn laughed. “I cannot tell you that, my friend. But I imagine Brigid is in your corner.”
“Brigid is a good friend.”
His smile softened. “She is. My mate is a woman of extraordinary character. Don’t think I didn’t try to convince her to leave Dublin. But she’s loyal, just like Anne.”
“Then I suppose we’re both lucky bastards, aren’t we?”
MURPHY didn’t see Anne until the meeting the next night with Jetta, Rens, and the British vampires. Jean Desmarais from Marseilles and Leonor from Spain had arrived just before dawn the night before, and both were now meeting with the larger group.
“Leonor.” Terry was starting to lose patience. “Everything we’ve uncovered so far says that Elixir is coming out of the Eastern Mediterranean and is pointed at the North Sea. It has to be coming through Gibraltar.”
“You have no evidence of that,” the Spanish leader said, nonchalant. “I came here in good faith. I had no idea I was going to be immediately accused by those I considered allies.”
Leonor was a dark-haired water vampire who claimed to be of Spanish royal descent. Though royal blood certainly wasn’t an unusual claim made by immortals, Murphy suspected Leonor was an aristocrat in truth. She appeared as a handsome woman in her midforties to humans, though Murphy suspected she’d been closer to thirty in mortal years. But she wore her age well and had always—as long as Murphy had known her—had immaculate style. More importantly, she was a dependable immortal leader in the notoriously unstable path between Europe and Africa. Her shipping interests and joint economic investment with Tripoli had been vital in stabilizing the region.
And she was more than respected. She was feared. Leonor had no consort and was allegedly very choosy regarding lovers lest one challenge her authority.
Shortsighted, in Murphy’s opinion. In his experience, leaders with a trusted consort were far more powerful and less vulnerable to takeover.
“No one is accusing you of anything, Leonor,” Murphy said. “We’re simply asking you what you’ve heard.”
“Most likely the same that you have,” she said. “Do you realize how many freighters pass through the strait in even a single day?”
“But surely there is some gossip,” Jetta said. “You must have made inquiries.”
She shrugged. “This drug has not been seen in our cities. It is not a priority for us. A few isolated cases of humans in Majorca, but that is all.”
Murphy glanced at Anne, who passed him a note.
She’s lying. There’ve been more cases than that, and she knows it.
Murphy nodded. Terry and Leonor were allies, but Terry and Gemma had been attacked in Spanish territory at one point, and that had damaged the relationship. Further, Terry and Leonor had become rivals in the race to push blood-wine to market. Their host was being too aggressive.
“Jean,” Murphy interrupted before Terry could speak again. “I’d like to know what the status in France is. I know Rome has been surprisingly isolated from infection. What about Marseilles?”
Jean smiled, knowing exactly what Murphy was doing.
“Of course,” he said. “We’ve not seen as great an effect as your territories, but it has been increasing.”
Jean Desmarais had arrived in London shortly before Leonor and was staying at his own property in Kensington with a sizable entourage. Far from the refined stereotype of the European businessman, Jean’s face still bore signs of his human life on the water. Though, like Murphy, he knew how to clean up for company.
He and Terry had done business for years and were known allies, though Murphy had heard rumors the relationship had been strained by the blood-wine business. Some rumors even implied that the blood-wine preservation technique that Terry and Gemma had perfected was first developed by Jean.
If an ally had swiped proprietary information from one of Murphy’s businesses, he would have been livid. But so far, Jean appeared to be as amenable and friendly as always.
He’d arrived for the meeting with only two guards and an attractive human assistant carrying his electronics. Jean had always been a likable sort, though he used his affability and friendships to hide a ruthless business acumen. France was no easy country to govern within, having some of the most divided immortal population in Europe. Jean ruled Marseilles and most of the southern coast, but the vampires in Paris detested the dapper Frenchman, whom they saw as an upstart.
“Nice has had a few cases”—Jean was still speaking—“Marseilles has had more. I’m very fortunate that only two of my own people have been infected, and both of them have living sires, but it is an increasing concern. There are rumors that Paris is heavily infected, and I have limited travel there for those under my aegis. Even I must admit there are more rumors swirling at this point than facts. I’ve held off on speaking publicly until I came to the summit. And”—he looked at Leonor—“I also must admit an extreme curiosity about information from Gibraltar. You have to know more than you are sharing, Leonor.”
“If you want to know what is happening in the strait,” Leonor said waspishly, “ask your friend Rens. He has plenty of his little spies in the city.”
Rens spread his hands. “My father had a historic relationship with immortals in Gibraltar. Surely you don’t expect us to cut ties with our friends because he is no longer living?”
“Friends? Is that what you call your informants?”
“Brigid is a good friend.”
His smile softened. “She is. My mate is a woman of extraordinary character. Don’t think I didn’t try to convince her to leave Dublin. But she’s loyal, just like Anne.”
“Then I suppose we’re both lucky bastards, aren’t we?”
MURPHY didn’t see Anne until the meeting the next night with Jetta, Rens, and the British vampires. Jean Desmarais from Marseilles and Leonor from Spain had arrived just before dawn the night before, and both were now meeting with the larger group.
“Leonor.” Terry was starting to lose patience. “Everything we’ve uncovered so far says that Elixir is coming out of the Eastern Mediterranean and is pointed at the North Sea. It has to be coming through Gibraltar.”
“You have no evidence of that,” the Spanish leader said, nonchalant. “I came here in good faith. I had no idea I was going to be immediately accused by those I considered allies.”
Leonor was a dark-haired water vampire who claimed to be of Spanish royal descent. Though royal blood certainly wasn’t an unusual claim made by immortals, Murphy suspected Leonor was an aristocrat in truth. She appeared as a handsome woman in her midforties to humans, though Murphy suspected she’d been closer to thirty in mortal years. But she wore her age well and had always—as long as Murphy had known her—had immaculate style. More importantly, she was a dependable immortal leader in the notoriously unstable path between Europe and Africa. Her shipping interests and joint economic investment with Tripoli had been vital in stabilizing the region.
And she was more than respected. She was feared. Leonor had no consort and was allegedly very choosy regarding lovers lest one challenge her authority.
Shortsighted, in Murphy’s opinion. In his experience, leaders with a trusted consort were far more powerful and less vulnerable to takeover.
“No one is accusing you of anything, Leonor,” Murphy said. “We’re simply asking you what you’ve heard.”
“Most likely the same that you have,” she said. “Do you realize how many freighters pass through the strait in even a single day?”
“But surely there is some gossip,” Jetta said. “You must have made inquiries.”
She shrugged. “This drug has not been seen in our cities. It is not a priority for us. A few isolated cases of humans in Majorca, but that is all.”
Murphy glanced at Anne, who passed him a note.
She’s lying. There’ve been more cases than that, and she knows it.
Murphy nodded. Terry and Leonor were allies, but Terry and Gemma had been attacked in Spanish territory at one point, and that had damaged the relationship. Further, Terry and Leonor had become rivals in the race to push blood-wine to market. Their host was being too aggressive.
“Jean,” Murphy interrupted before Terry could speak again. “I’d like to know what the status in France is. I know Rome has been surprisingly isolated from infection. What about Marseilles?”
Jean smiled, knowing exactly what Murphy was doing.
“Of course,” he said. “We’ve not seen as great an effect as your territories, but it has been increasing.”
Jean Desmarais had arrived in London shortly before Leonor and was staying at his own property in Kensington with a sizable entourage. Far from the refined stereotype of the European businessman, Jean’s face still bore signs of his human life on the water. Though, like Murphy, he knew how to clean up for company.
He and Terry had done business for years and were known allies, though Murphy had heard rumors the relationship had been strained by the blood-wine business. Some rumors even implied that the blood-wine preservation technique that Terry and Gemma had perfected was first developed by Jean.
If an ally had swiped proprietary information from one of Murphy’s businesses, he would have been livid. But so far, Jean appeared to be as amenable and friendly as always.
He’d arrived for the meeting with only two guards and an attractive human assistant carrying his electronics. Jean had always been a likable sort, though he used his affability and friendships to hide a ruthless business acumen. France was no easy country to govern within, having some of the most divided immortal population in Europe. Jean ruled Marseilles and most of the southern coast, but the vampires in Paris detested the dapper Frenchman, whom they saw as an upstart.
“Nice has had a few cases”—Jean was still speaking—“Marseilles has had more. I’m very fortunate that only two of my own people have been infected, and both of them have living sires, but it is an increasing concern. There are rumors that Paris is heavily infected, and I have limited travel there for those under my aegis. Even I must admit there are more rumors swirling at this point than facts. I’ve held off on speaking publicly until I came to the summit. And”—he looked at Leonor—“I also must admit an extreme curiosity about information from Gibraltar. You have to know more than you are sharing, Leonor.”
“If you want to know what is happening in the strait,” Leonor said waspishly, “ask your friend Rens. He has plenty of his little spies in the city.”
Rens spread his hands. “My father had a historic relationship with immortals in Gibraltar. Surely you don’t expect us to cut ties with our friends because he is no longer living?”
“Friends? Is that what you call your informants?”
