“Dorina?” Mircea glanced from the hilt to my face, eyes suddenly sharp. He knew I was about to hand him something. And damn it, he was right.

I stood back up. “Elyas could have been killed at any time during that ten minutes,” I told them.

“He could not!” Marlowe barked. “We know when he died. The reaction was felt by everyone in the apartment—including you.”

I sighed. This was going to cost me a fortune. “There’s a way to delay the reaction.”

His eyes immediately narrowed on my face. “How?”

“You asked me a question yesterday, about how I get out of clubs and homes after killing a master, without his servants immediately zeroing in on me.”

“And?” His eyes had gone a bright, glittering black.

“I behead the master first, because—I don’t care who you are—that’s going to be a shock to the system.”

“Damn straight,” Ray commented.

Marlowe never even glanced at him. “And then?”

He was like a goddamned dog with a bone, I thought resentfully. “Then I tie his hands behind his back and jam the stake into his heart—a special one I previously coated in a thin layer of wax.”

His eyes widened.

“I don’t see why that would make a difference in the time of death,” Muttonchops said.

“The body’s heat melts the wax,” I said, spelling it out for him. “But not right away. I have anywhere from thirty seconds to a couple of minutes to get away before any of the actual wood touches the heart.”

“And you can control the amount of time by the thickness of the wax,” Marlowe said, blinking. “It’s so bloody simple. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Maybe you don’t kill as many vamps as I do,” I said sourly. “The point is, anyone could have offed Elyas. Set him up like I described. Then hurry out into the hall, and either leave the apartment entirely or—”

“Or rejoin the other guests as if nothing had happened.”

“And remain to see the body being found to make certain that nothing went amiss,” Mircea added. He looked at Muttonchops. “I would appreciate a list of all your guests tonight. Invited and otherwise.”

The vamp did affronted dignity well. “You cannot believe one of them to be responsible! I assure you, everyone here was of the finest—”

“Of course,” Mircea murmured soothingly. “I would expect no less of an illustrious house. However, it is the usual protocol, and I will be asked for it.”

The vamp nodded stiffly but made no move to leave. He concentrated for a moment, probably trying to summon a flunky, but they all appeared to be out of order. He gave a disgusted sound and walked to the door to bark an order to a human servant instead.

Mircea thanked him and turned back to the body, still looking grim. “That’s how it was done,” I told him. “I promise you.”

“I do not doubt your word, Dorina,” he said, with emphasis.

“You don’t think the Senate will believe me?”

“Well, I don’t believe you,” Muttonchops said. “It’s preposterous. I’ve never heard of such a thing. A first-level master would merely break the bonds and remove the knife.”

“Not with his head just cut off and a stake through his heart,” I said drily.

He gave me a purely venomous look. “I could do it. And I’m second-level.”

“Want to try?”

“Dorina.” Mircea gave me the look that said, “You’re not helping.”

“Believe me, I’ve done this enough to know,” I told him. “It works. Maybe if the vamp in question had more time, he could figure a way out of it. But he has only seconds. They may struggle a bit, sure, but they are mostly paralyzed, and the majority don’t even realize the danger. They think I missed the heart and left them for dead, and that one of their servants will find them shortly. And they’re gone before they realize their mistake.”

Muttonchops turned to Mircea. “Even if you accept this creature’s evidence, the fact remains that no one else had reason to kill the master!”

“Like hell,” Ray said. I thumped him hard, and he shut up. But Mircea shot me a look.

“You can point out to the Senate that Louis-Cesare had the rest of the week,” I told him. “If he planned to kill Elyas, he’d have done it later, after he had exhausted all other possibilities. There’d be no reason to do it tonight, especially in so public a way.”

“It’s the best we’re going to get,” Marlowe said, looking at Mircea. “Will it be enough?”

Mircea closed his eyes. He didn’t look optimistic. “The Senate is meeting in an hour in an emergency session. We will soon know.”

A couple of large vamps approached with a stretcher, but Marlowe waved them off. “The Senate may ask to see the body in situ.”

“But dawn approaches,” Muttonchops said, sounding scandalized.

Since it was only about one a.m., the guy was exaggerating. But then, he was upset. And he didn’t know how long the Senate bigwigs intended to leave his master exposed.

That sort of thing was a major taboo in the vamp world. Once a vamp’s power leaves him, his protection against the sun goes with it. Any stray beams after that will fry what is left to a crisp in a matter of seconds. The last service a vampire performs for his or her master is ensuring that the body is hidden away so that the sun can never touch it.

Marlowe’s expression said he couldn’t give a shit, but Mircea moved in with soothing, reasonable arguments, his voice taking on the cadence that said power was being exerted, but subtly. Muttonchops’s frown smoothed out, and within moments he was nodding, as if leaving his master’s gory body slumped at the desk was the best idea he’d heard in a while.

Marlowe met my eyes, and I could tell he was thinking the same thing: too bad that kind of thing wouldn’t work on the Senate.

CHAPTER 20

Muttonchops left a moment later to arrange for extra blackout curtains. As soon as the door closed behind him, I got up and put the necklace on the desk. There was no way a dhampir was going to be allowed to address the Senate, which didn’t even recognize me as a person. But Mircea was going in there, and he needed more than a speck of wax.

“Plenty of other people had a reason to kill Elyas,” I said simply.

Mircea clicked on the lamp and bent over the desk to get a good look. Then sharp, dark eyes turned up to me. “Where did you get this?”

“Off Elyas’s neck.”

Marlowe started to squawk something, but Mircea held up a hand. “Tell me,” he said quietly. Louis-Cesare moved to the door, making sure that we had a moment of relative privacy.

“Elyas tried to buy the rune before the auction, but was told he’d have to bid for it like everyone else. When Ming-de won, he was furious—”

“A great many people were,” Marlowe said resentfully. “The auction was obviously rigged.”

“Yeah, only Elyas wasn’t going to take that lying down. He went to the club, killed the fey and took it—”

“Raymond saw him?” Mircea asked sharply.

“No, he smelled him. You can ask him if you want details, but there aren’t many. Basically, the fey showed up, Ray left him alone for a few minutes, he returned and the guy was dead. Elyas’s scent was in the air, and the necklace was missing.”

“How lovely,” Christine said breathily, her face alight. She’d come in so quietly that even the vamps hadn’t heard her. I saw Marlowe start.

She didn’t notice, being too busy gazing raptly at the carrier. The cold electric light sparked a fountain of prisms off the intricate surface, bathing her face with rainbows as she leaned closer, seemingly mesmerized. And before anyone could stop her, she’d picked it up.

“Drop it!” Marlowe barked.

She looked up, eyes wide and startled. And the carrier slipped from her fingers, hitting the desk and sending dancing beams across the dead man as it rolled toward the edge. She stared at it. “Je regrette! I did not mean—”

“You foolish girl!” Marlowe looked like he wanted to shake her. Christine transferred her gaze to him, looking part-mortified, part-confused.