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E
ileen, Rosa’s kitchen hand, was not at work again the following morning. Rosa noted it at breakfast, looking haggard.
“It is not like her,” the stout woman declared. “I am worried.”
Aleksandar, satisfied after last night’s feeding, drank only coffee while Brendon wolfed down two helpings of the fragrant cochinita pibil, a traditional Mexican pork dish. He was only half listening, feeling oddly excited at the prospect of playing ball with Stoyan. Not many kids he knew ever talked about playing ball with family, though he had passed other, much more privileged children, who started their stories with ‘So I was playing ball with Dad last night...’ He had always wondered what that would be like.
“I will look into it,” Aleksandar promised Rosa as she refilled his coffee cup.
Stoyan arrived shortly after, looking as if he had slept in a cardboard box. His hair was appropriately messy and his eyes not quite open properly. He yawned as he slumped down into a chair.
“Good morning,” Aleksandar said mildly, giving no indication of amusement at Stoyan’s theatrics other than his usual, slightly amused smile.
“Morning,” Stoyan said with a grunt.
He smiled appreciatively up at Rosa as she filled his plate with the cochinita pibil. He ate as if starving the moment the plate was placed in front of him.
“This is amazing,” he said appreciatively after his third forkful.
Rosa beamed at him before she finished laying the food and dishes out on the table and returned to the kitchen to tidy up.
Stoyan turned his attention to Brendon. “It’s a good day to be outside,” he noted.
Brendon grinned. “It’s supposed to rain this afternoon.”
“Then we should get outside soon.”
Nodding, Brendon ate faster.
“Day off,” Stoyan told Aleksandar when the prince looked at him with raised eyebrows. “He worked hard yesterday, so I promised we’d play ball today.”
Aleksandar nodded in silence and turned his attention to the newspaper.
Yulia and Lucan arrived together. There was not a mark on Yulia’s alabaster skin and she did not appear put out at all by the violent altercation between her and her prince the night before.
“Good morning,” she said breezily, helping herself to some orange juice, but declining any food.
“Morning,” Aleksandar replied, not looking up from his paper.
“Beautiful day,” she noted before taking her glass of juice and leaving again. Lucan watched her go as he took his place at the table and helped himself to coffee and cochinita pibil.
“Anything of note?” Lucan asked Aleksandar.
“Prefect Housing has been sold to Coronet,” Aleksandar noted. He read the article aloud. “The acquisition comes after the sudden death of CEO Brent Framboise.”
Lucan grunted. “How did he die?”
“Car accident. Yesterday morning, apparently.”
“Lucky break for Coronet,” Lucan noted.
“Very. Brent had been resisting that acquisition forcefully, from what I gather.”
“Not very clever. Prefect was too small to survive.”
“They were doing all right.”
Brendon looked over at Stoyan, who rolled his eyes. Brendon snickered, drawing the attention of both Aleksandar and Lucan. Aleksandar smiled at him.
“Business talk is dull,” he said smoothly. “I agree.”
“Come,” Stoyan said, standing up. “Let’s go outside. I want to play before the rain starts.”
Bolting the last of his third helping of breakfast, Brendon stood.
“Take your dishes, please,” Aleksandar said.
Brendon smiled, grabbed his dirty dishes and, along with Stoyan, went downstairs to deposit them in the kitchen before heading outside.
Aleksandar watched them leave the dining room, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the newspaper.
“Here,” Stoyan said, as the pair left the enormous mansion for the gardens in the back. He pointed at a small box wrapped in blue and silver paper on the rusted wrought iron table that sat on the as-yet unrestored back porch.
Brendon looked at it, then looked at Stoyan. “What is it?” he demanded.
“What do you think?” Stoyan said. “A present. Now open it.”
“But I... It’s not my birthday or anything.”
“Does it have to be?”
“Usually, yeah.”
“Well... then this is a birthday gift. But very late. Or very early.”
Disbelieving, Brendon walked forward and picked up the box. “Shoes?” he asked.
“Just open.”
Trying very hard not to tear the beautiful paper, Brendon unwrapped his gift. It was indeed a shoebox, but old and battered, held closed with a large blue elastic band. Brendon opened the box to find a brand new baseball mitt. In the pocket sat a brand new baseball, the glove curled around it and held closed with another blue elastic band.
It took a moment for it all to register with Brendon. He had grown up poor and so, even when his drunkard father bothered to remember his birthday or Christmas, anything he ever received was second-hand or stolen and close to falling apart. The glove and ball he now held were not only brand new, but top of the line. Brendon looked up at Stoyan, speechless.
“I did not know what to look for,” Stoyan admitted as he took the glove from Brendon and looked it over. “The man at the store said this was a good glove.”
“Good glove?” Brendon spluttered, incredulous. “This is a pro series. Man, these things are expensive! What did you get me a pro glove for?”
Stoyan seemed crestfallen. “You don’t like? I can exchange it if you—”
“Are you kidding me?” Brendon snatched the glove back from Stoyan. “No way!”
Confused, Stoyan watched Brendon with a frown. “So... you like?”
Brendon struggled to find the words to express himself. He gave up with a grin. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, I like it a lot.”
Stoyan relaxed visibly, a smile lighting his face. “Good! The man at the store said it would be stiff, and you would need to break it in. When not using, wipe over with the oil in the box and store it exactly as it is now.”
Brendon stared down at the glove, turning it over in his hand. “I don’t even play,” he murmured.
“We play now,” Stoyan replied. “Come on.” He trotted down the porch stairs and out into the shaded patch of lawn that stood just behind the house.
“Wait?” Brendon said, following him. He removed the elastic around the new mitt and slipped it on, taking the ball with his free hand. “Where’s your glove?”
“Psht!” Stoyan said. “I do not need. Now throw.”
“No, seriously. You should get a glove.”
“Throw,” Stoyan said again.
“Okay,” Brendon said. He threw the baseball as hard as he could. Stoyan’s hand flashed out, catching the ball. It landed in the driver’s hand with a satisfying smack.
“Hmm,” Stoyan said as he removed the ball and looked down at his hand. “I will buy a glove tomorrow.”
Brendon laughed. The laugh was cut short as Stoyan threw the ball back to him, a little wide, forcing him to dive from the stairs to catch the ball.
“Ho!” Stoyan cried. “Good catch!”
Rolling to his feet, Brendon threw the ball back, and so the pair played as the clouds began to roll in.
Aleksandar watched Stoyan and Brendon toss the ball to one another in the shady patch of lawn beyond the back porch through the informal dining hall window. He was smiling softly. It was not his usual smile. It was something quieter, sadder.
“An inane game,” Lucan said, turning away from his place at the next window.
“They seem to enjoy it,” Aleksandar answered.
“I do not think it wise, letting the boy stay here.”
Refusing to look up, Aleksandar simply shrugged. “Was I supposed to turn him out into the streets?”
“The Council also agrees that it strikes a little too close to a betrayal of the Covenant.”
“And what would the Council know of the Covenant?” Aleksandar demanded. “They did nothing when House Kuzlak blatantly ignored it and murdered Theodore.”
Lucan had no answer to this, so he merely said, “It puts us all in unnecessary danger, my lord.”
“Brendon is not a threat,” Aleksandar said. “He’s now a part of this House, and under my protection. Anyone who moves against him, moves against me.” He turned to look Lucan in the eye. “Tell the Council that.”
Lucan did not flinch. “He is not one of us,” he replied.
“No,” Aleksandar agreed. “He’s not.”
Before Lucan could respond, the doorbell rang. Lucan spared a moment to search Aleksandar’s eyes for any clue as to the prince’s plans before leaving to answer the door. Aleksandar turned back to watch the pair below play ball.
“Mr. Svetoslav,” Lucan said from the door of the informal dining room, drawing the Opyri prince away from his thoughts.
Aleksandar turned to find Lucan standing in the doorway, a small, conservatively dressed woman with grey hair stood just behind him. She clutched her purse tightly against her stomach as she stood, observing Aleksandar with shrewd eyes. The presence of a small silver cross worn around her neck did not escape Aleksandar’s attention.
“Mrs. Reilly,” Lucan intoned. He stepped forward and permitted the woman entry into the room. He bowed slightly before leaving.
“Hello,” Aleksandar greeted, moving away from the window and stretching out his hand in greeting. The woman flinched away, pulling her purse tighter against herself. Aleksandar frowned slightly and let his hand drop.
“Would you like to sit?” he offered.
The woman shook her head.
“Very well. How may I help you, Mrs. Reilly?”
It took a moment for the woman to open her mouth. When she spoke, her accent was decidedly Eastern European. “Where is my granddaughter?”
Aleksandar blinked. “Pardon?”
“My granddaughter. Where is she?”
“I’m not sure—”
“Eileen Sexton. She works for you.”
“You are Eileen’s grandmother?”
Mrs. Reilly nodded.
“Forgive me,” Aleksandar said, straightening. “She hasn’t been to work in the past two days. I thought that perhaps she was home ill and had neglected to tell us.”
Mrs. Reilly shook her head. “She left to go to work and hasn’t been home since.”
Aleksandar felt himself tense. “Have you called the police?”
“No. I thought I would check first. I did not know...” Tears struck her eyes as she spoke. “I would never have let her come if I knew... If I knew what...”
The unsaid words hung in the air. What you are.
“Please, Mrs. Reilly,” Aleksandar said softly. “I have not seen Eileen since her shift ended last weekend. She never made it to the house two days past. I swear it.” Aleksandar walked to the door. “Lucan!” he called.
Moments later Lucan appeared in the doorway. “Yes?” he asked, his gaze shifting briefly to study the terrified Mrs. Reilly’s tearful face.
“I need you to call the police. Request Detective Brody specifically. Also, please bring me my wallet from my study.”
“Right away, Mr. Svetoslav.”
“And please have Rosa bring up some chamomile tea.”
“Of course. Will that be all, Mr. Svetoslav?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Bowing again, Lucan turned to do as he was bid. Aleksandar turned back to the woman.
“Please sit, Mrs. Reilly. I promise that no one here will hurt you. Eileen never made it to the house, I swear.”
“The police... this Detective Brody. He is one of you?”
“No,” Aleksandar replied. “He’s just a detective.”
“A friend?”
“No,” Aleksandar replied again. “Quite the opposite.”
“If that is so, then why call him?”
“Precisely because I know that he will get to the bottom of any case even remotely associated with my House. He will look for any reason he can to get to me, and that means no stone will remain unturned. I swear to you, Eileen never reached the house. You will file a missing persons report with the police, and they will do what they can to help you. Please. Sit.”
“I know what you are,” Mrs. Reilly whispered.
Aleksandar raised his eyebrows. “You are safe in this house, Mrs. Reilly.” He indicated a chair at the table nearest to where the woman stood. Slowly, Mrs. Reilly withdrew the chair from its place under the table and sank slowly down.
“I saw one once,” Mrs. Reilly said, her face pale. Instinctively, she reached up and enclosed her crucifix in a tight grip. “When I was a girl in Poland. His eyes were dark like yours. Soulless.” She shuddered. “Children had been disappearing for months. I thought he was going to get me too. I did not know what to do. I was so afraid. I closed my eyes tight. When I opened them, he was gone.”
“Reilly is not a Polish name,” Aleksandar noted.
“My name was Draus before I married,” Mrs. Reilly said. She stared at him. “What have you done with my granddaughter?”
Aleksandar sighed. “There is nothing I can say that will convince you I did not touch her. Only know that there are laws, Mrs. Reilly. Our laws. I swear I did your granddaughter no harm, and if anyone in my House did, I will mete out punishment myself.”
“I cannot trust that.”
At that moment, Rosa trundled in with a tray of tea and biscuits. She poured the first cup of tea and set it in front of Mrs. Reilly. It was clear from the confusion on her face that Mrs. Reilly immediately knew that Rosa was not Opyri.
“This is Rosa,” Aleksandar introduced. “She is our cook here at the house. Rosa, this is Mrs. Reilly. She is Eileen’s grandmother.”
Rosa’s eyes went wide. “Is Eileen okay? She has not been in to work for two days.”
Mrs. Reilly’s eyes flickered to Aleksandar, who said softly, “Eileen is missing, Rosa. Mrs. Reilly has come here looking for her.”
“Ay-yah! This is not good! Not good at all! What happened?”
“We don’t know. It appears that she vanished sometime before her shift two days ago.”
“Ay-yah!”
“Detective Brody is on his way, Mr. Svetoslav,” Lucan said from the door. “And here is your wallet.”
Aleksandar strode over to Lucan and accepted the offered wallet.
“Is everything all right?” Lucan asked as Aleksandar searched his wallet for something.
Aleksandar shook his head and spoke in low tones. “One of my staff is missing,” he said bluntly. Lucan raised one brow but said nothing.
“I expect Detective Brody will want to speak with everyone in the house. You will make yourself available for questioning, and you will answer all questions fully and honestly. Is that clear?”
“You suspect someone in the House?” Lucan asked quietly.
Aleksandar shrugged. “I hope not, for their sake. No one breaks the Covenant while I rule.”
Lucan nodded. He bowed stiffly again and left.
“Rosa,” Aleksandar said. “Would you be so kind as to call in Stoyan and Brendon. They need to be told.”
“Of course, Señor,” Rosa said. She followed Lucan out of the room.
Aleksandar rolled his shoulders back and sighed, staring a moment at the ceiling. A distant rumble of thunder signalled the promised storm, and drew both Aleksandar’s and Mrs. Reilly’s attention out of the window.
“And evil portend,” Mrs. Reilly murmured.
“Storm’s coming,” Stoyan said cheerily from the door. His bright smile slipped when he spied Mrs. Reilly at the dining room table, and Aleksandar’s sombre expression.
“Is everything all right?” he asked his prince.
Aleksandar shook his head. “One of our House is missing,” he said simply. “This is Mrs. Reilly, the missing girl’s grandmother.”
Stoyan offered a small wave in greeting. Mrs. Reilly did nothing but stare in response.
“What happened?” Brendon asked, appearing from behind Stoyan’s mass.
“We don’t know,” Aleksandar replied. “Detective Brody is on his way.”
“Wait, the one who hates you, yes?” Stoyan asked.
Aleksandar nodded. “I expect he will want to speak with everyone in the house. You will make yourselves available when called upon, and you will answer every question fully and honestly, am I clear?”
Stoyan’s eyes narrowed as he shrewdly guessed Aleksandar’s worry. “Of course,” he said, insulted that Aleksandar need ask.
A small smile flickered across Aleksandar’s face. “Mrs. Reilly, this is Stoyan. He is my driver, bodyguard and friend. The boy is Brendon, and is staying with us until he finishes school.”
Brendon smiled at the woman.
“Who’s Eileen?” Brendon whispered to Stoyan.
“The kitchen hand,” Stoyan replied.
Alexander addressed his friend. “You are dismissed, but stay in the house until the detective has finished his work here.”
Stoyan nodded. He took Brendon by the shoulders and steered him out of the room. Brendon went reluctantly, peering back at the distraught woman sitting in the dining room.
“Go,” Stoyan ordered firmly.
Aleksandar watched them leave before taking a seat at the head of the table. He stared at the dining room door, his attention not on the detail of the carved panels, but whirling with the myriad reasons for Eileen’s disappearance. There were only two that seemed even remotely probable: hunters or Opyri.
A hunter would never hurt an innocent. Perhaps she was kidnapped in a misguided attempt to keep her safe.
Or an Opyri had betrayed their own law and killed.
Either way, it meant trouble for House Svetoslav.
As Mrs. Reilly watched Aleksandar with a wary gaze, her own mind worked. Could this... creature be speaking the truth? Did he truly not know where her granddaughter was? She observed his intense gaze into nothingness, his mind working furiously behind his dark eyes. She noted the small tick on the side of his jaw as he clenched and unclenched it in rapid succession.
Both Aleksandar and Mrs. Reilly sat in silence as they waited for Detective Brody to arrive. The silence stretched on, uncomfortable and uncertain, before Lucan reappeared at the door.
“Detective Brody and Officer Wilde,” he intoned, before showing the detective and his partner into the room. He turned and left.
Aleksandar immediately rose to his feet. “Detective,” he said, offering his hand in greeting.
Brody placed his hands at his hips and glared at Aleksandar. “I’m not your damned lackey, Mr. Svetoslav,” he snapped. “I’m not at your beck and call.”
“No,” Aleksandar replied, dropping his hand again. “Forgive me if I gave that impression.”
“Well? What do you want?”
Aleksandar nodded at Mrs. Reilly. Detective Brody turned and raised his brows.
“Detective,” Aleksandar said. “This is Mrs. Reilly. She is the grandmother of one of my staff, who has, apparently, gone missing.”
Brody looked briefly back at Aleksandar before walking over to Mrs. Reilly and extending his hand.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Detective Brody.”
Mrs. Reilly stood and took the detective’s hand. “Anka,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”
Brody nodded. “Anka, did you call missing persons?”
“No. I thought that perhaps she came to work and stayed over. She does that sometimes. But she always calls. And she hasn’t called.”
Aleksandar raised his eyebrows. This was news to him.
“So I came here first to look for her.”
Brody sighed. He looked back at Aleksandar. “I’m, strictly speaking, a homicide detective.”
Mrs. Reilly gasped.
“I’m just telling you this so you will understand that missing persons aren’t really my department.”
“Mr. Svetoslav told me you would be the best person for this. This is why he called you, he said.”
Brody looked back at Aleksandar briefly again. He nodded. “He’s actually not wrong about that. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to interview everyone first, since I’m here anyway. Then I’ll head back to the precinct and file a formal report. That’ll get the ball rolling with law enforcement.”
Anka Reilly nodded.
“I would like to start with you, Anka, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Brody turned to Aleksandar.
“I will be in my study,” Aleksandar said before Brody could say anything. “When you are ready, tug on the red pull by the door. Lucan will lead you up.” With that, Aleksandar excused himself, sparing a short moment to offer Alicia a sad smile. She returned it briefly before joining Detective Brody.
Detective Brody waited until the sounds of Aleksandar’s footsteps faded away before speaking. “Alicia, would you mind watching the door and making sure no one is listening in?”
Alicia smirked at her partner’s paranoia, but did as she was asked without comment. Brody turned back to the diminutive woman who clutched her purse to her as if it was her only lifeline.
“Do you happen to have a photograph of Eileen, Mrs. Reilly?”
The woman nodded. Shaking, she reached into her purse and took out a finely embossed wallet. It was worn and almost falling apart, but must have been very lovely once. From it she pulled out a photograph of a young woman in her early twenties with sleek brown hair and a bright smile. Mrs. Reilly handed it over.
“Her name is Eileen Sexton,” she said. “She will be graduating university in a few months.” Mrs. Reilly’s eyes teared up. “She’s a good girl.”
“Am I right in guessing she lives with you?”
Anka nodded. “Her mother, well... she was not in a good way. So Eileen came to me. It is almost twelve years ago now since she came.”
“No father?”
“No. Whoever he is, he wanted nothing to do with his children.”
“I see.”
As Mrs. Reilly answered his questions, Brody scrawled down the answers in a small notepad. Alicia listened in, checking the hall occasionally to ensure that no one was lurking there.
After Brody had exhausted his questions and taken Mrs. Reilly’s details, he walked over to the door and pulled the red bell pull. “I want you to stay with Mrs. Reilly while I interview the others here, all right? The poor woman is as close to tears as I’ve ever seen.”
Alicia looked over at the woman sitting on the chair in the large dining room. Her feet barely touched the ground, and her thin shoulders drooped so that she looked almost half her size. In her left hand she clutched her crucifix, rubbing it absently with her thumb. Alicia nodded. “Of course,” she said.
“Detective?” Lucan asked from the door. He had appeared there as silently as a cat and the sound of his voice made both the detective and his partner jump.
“I would like to speak with Mr. Svetoslav now,” Brody said. “He told me he’d be in his study.”
“Of course,” Lucan intoned without emotion. “Follow me.” He turned and, not bothering to see if the detective was following, walked away.
Brody shook his head and followed. The house was still under renovation. The hall had not been touched, and several of the second story rooms were unfinished. There was no point, Brody thought, of doing the hall until the rooms were done. Some rooms had been completed, and Brody spied rich furnishings and richer wallpapers that gave all the rooms the distinct impression of old-world aristocracy. Aleksandar Svetoslav’s tastes were, unsurprisingly, archaic.
They arrived at a closed door and Lucan knocked twice, loudly, before opening the door and stepping into the room.
“Detective Brody,” Brody heard Lucan say. He entered.
Aleksandar Svetoslav was standing at his desk. The desk, beautifully carved and highly polished, had several small, neat stacks of papers and folders on it. There was, notably, no computer in the study.
“Thank you, Lucan,” Aleksandar said softly. “That will be all.”
“Of course.” Lucan bowed slightly and left, closing the door behind him.
Aleksandar sighed. “I wish he’d stop doing that.” He offered a small smile to Detective Brody. “Please,” he said, indicating one of the two very comfortable chairs that sat before the desk. “Have a seat.”
“Plush,” Brody noted as he sat.
Aleksandar waited until Brody lowered himself in the chair before he sat behind his desk. Brody smirked.
“You know, they teach us in psych that sitting behind something like a desk is a non-verbal signal of authority over the person on the other side.”
Keeping his expression impassive, Aleksandar answered, “Do they?” in a tone that indicated that he knew this, and the act was deliberate.
Brody let it slide. He was deep in the nest as it was. There was no point in picking a fight now.
“You know, I knew you were bad news,” he said.
“I had nothing to do with Ms. Sexton’s disappearance,” Aleksandar said quietly.
“Sounds like a guilty conscience.”
“There are many things of which I am guilty, Detective. Murder of the innocent is not one of them.”
“The innocent?”
Aleksandar sighed and leant forward. “There are many things I’m sure you think you know about us, Detective,” he said. “And I am as equally as certain that nothing I can say or do will make you believe otherwise.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Then I hope your investigation proves me clear of all suspicion.”
“So you think this is just your regular, run-of-the-mill kidnapping, do you? Perhaps you think she ran away.”
Aleksandar shook his head. “No. I did not know her well, but Eileen did not appear to be the type to simply run away.”
“So you know all your staff, do you?”
“In this house? Yes. No one is hired without my say so,” Aleksandar replied. “And, as you can see, I do not have a full house. We do not need so many staff that I cannot keep track of them.”
“Tell me about Eileen’s employment here.”
“She is Rosa’s weekend help. Rosa is our cook.”
“Really? How do you take your dinner? Rare?”
“Alive,” Aleksandar replied darkly. “Both before and after.”
The thought made Brody’s stomach turn, so he changed the subject. “Eileen is the weekend kitchen hand.”
“Yes.”
“Her grandmother says that sometimes Eileen stays over during her shifts.”
“I was unaware of this practice,” Aleksandar replied. “I suspect it was an arrangement made between Rosa and her. It makes some sense, I suppose. We tend to eat late and rise early, and it’s a long commute from Eileen’s house.”
“Aren’t you all supposed to be active at night and sleep during the day?”
“We do not sleep,” Aleksandar said with a shrug. “In any case, I haven’t seen Eileen in the house late at night, so she may have been staying with Rosa. She has, as part of her employment, her own quarters here at the house.”
“Renovated, I hope.”
Aleksandar did not reply. He simply entwined his fingers and rested his forearms on the desk in front of him.
“Out of curiosity, why do you even need a cook?”
“It is expected.”
“Expected?”
“Yes. A wealthy bachelor is hardly expected to cook for himself, and one must eat in order to survive.”
“Do you actually eat the food.”
“Of course.”
“And it doesn’t fill you?”
Shrugging, Aleksandar said, “We gain no nutrition from it. That’s not quite the right word — ‘nutrition’ — but it is the closest approximation.”
“You have to drink blood to survive?”
“In the way a cat is an obligate carnivore, we are obligate...” Aleksandar searched for an appropriate word.
“Monsters,” Brody finished for him.
Aleksandar sighed but offered no retort.
“Where were you Saturday morning between the hours of five and seven-thirty a.m. yesterday?”
“She leaves her house at five a.m.?”
“Not the point, Mr. Svetoslav.”
“I was in bed, actually. Lucan makes a show of waking me around seven every morning.”
“Your butler.”
“And valet. The staff here is small enough that he can perform both functions. Should we ever have a full house, I will let him decide which position he prefers.”
“Valet? As in he parks your car for you?”
Aleksandar smiled slightly. Brody bridled. He found that smile condescending. “A valet is a gentleman’s personal attendant. The butler is the head of the household staff. Though, it is true that butlers more frequently perform both functions these days.”
“We’re in America. A valet parks cars.”
“Not in this house.”
“Fine. No doubt Lucan will be able to corroborate this alibi?” Detective Brody said, sounding bored and slightly disappointed.
“Yes. You may also check with Rosa. She always brings my first coffee to my room. She’s quite... maternal.”
“Rosa the cook.”
“Yes.”
“Is she also one of you?”
“She is a member of my House, if that is what you mean. But she has not been Embraced.”
“How then is she a member of your House?”
“She works for me.”
“But she is not, what did you say?”
“Embraced.”
“Is that what you call people you’ve turned?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds cosy.”
Aleksandar’s smile returned. “We are not all shadows and blood.”
Brody grunted. “Dangerous, isn’t it?”
Raising his brows, Aleksandar answered, “What?”
“Having a normal person work for you. Does she know what you are?”
“I am her employer,” Aleksandar said. “That is ‘what’ I am.”
Brody smiled a mirthless smile and shook his head. “I will have your alibi checked and rechecked.”
“I expect as much.”
Brody met Aleksandar’s intense gaze and held it for a moment. “You think it’s one of you, don’t you?”
“The possibility is always present. It would surprise me, though.”
“Oh?”
“An attack on any member of my House is an attack on me. If this is the work of an Opyri, it’s a direct challenge to my rule and thus an open invitation to war. Internal struggles are messy and usually far more trouble than they’re worth.”
Brody made a mental note of the word ‘Opyri.’ It was the first time he had heard it. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
“And I suppose you’ve been challenged before?”
“No,” Aleksandar replied. “No one has dared since the death of my sire.”
“Your sire. The one who turned you?”
“Yes.”
“You killed him?”
“No.”
“Then why would no one challenge you since then?”
“Because of what I did to his murderers.”
Detective Brody scowled.
“No innocents were killed, Detective,” Aleksandar said quietly. “It was an internal matter.” He stood. “Have you any other questions?”
Brody stood. “Just one. You are awfully free with information. Why is that?”
“The key to understanding, Detective, is education.”
“So if I wanted to know the best way to kill one of you...”
Aleksandar scoffed. “Good day, Detective.”
Brody grunted. He waved his notebook at Aleksandar. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I look forward to it.”
Detective Brody chuckled and left the office. The sight of Lucan standing in the doorway once he opened the door made the detective jump.
“Where would you like to go next, Detective?” the slender Aspara asked.
“I’d like to talk to the cook.”
“Very good. Right this way.”
It took Detective Brody the entire afternoon to interview everyone in the house. Much to his disappointment, Aleksandar Svetoslav’s alibi checked out. Lucan admitted that the Prince of the House pretended to sleep until roughly seven each morning. He had practiced this charade of normalcy since Lucan had come to America to serve him. It was not a common practice amongst Opyri, though House Svetoslav had long ago learnt to hide in plain sight. Other Houses were yet to master it.
Rosa had assured the detective that, as per her usual schedule, she had brought a very sleepy young Master Svetoslav a morning coffee to him in his room. “The poor boy,” she said. “He works very hard. Up very late at night, pouring over paperwork. He should be out enjoying his youth. But no, he stays in and tries to fix the world. Did you hear about the development in the ghetto? He’s building enough new housing for everyone currently renting from Üstrel Realty, and will not be charging extra. And there will be a park! What a lovely boy. He’s very kind.”
It irritated Detective Brody to hear the praise the non-Embraced of the house heaped upon their employer. Aleksandar had expectations, yes, and he stuck by them severely. But he was ever so accommodating and had never spoken unkindly to anyone, even when Michelle, one of the new cleaners, destroyed a priceless Ming Dynasty vase in his collection. The girl was, she told Brody herself, saving up her wages to buy him an exact replica.
It took everything Brody had not to roll his eyes after every staff member offered glowing reviews of their employer. Only Lucan had not been overly enthusiastic about Aleksandar, but he never uttered one word against the prince, unless ‘unconventional’ was considered a slur amongst the Opyri.
While he had been busy interviewing everyone, Alicia had taken it upon herself to drive Mrs. Reilly home. The woman had silently wept most of the journey, but refused to have Alicia sit with her once home. Alicia watched her enter the house and shook her head before turning the car around to pick up Detective Brody.