Destined for an Early Grave(69)

“Hand me that knife, Ian.”

He passed it over, his turquoise eyes sparkling. Geri looked a little nervous. Cannelle didn’t even blink.

“You won’t kill me, Catherine. You play the hard woman, but I still see a little girl before me.”

Ian regarded Cannelle with amazement. “She’s unhinged.”

“No, she’s just remembering who I used to be. Gregor made that mistake also, at first.”

I smiled at Cannelle again while twirling the knife from one hand to the other. Her eyes followed the movement, and for the first time, she looked uncertain.

“Remember that big bad bitch Gregor didn’t want me turning into? Well, it happened. Now, I’m in a hurry, so here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to slam this knife through your hand, and the only way you’ll stop me is by talking, so please. Please. Don’t talk.”

She didn’t believe me. When Ian held Cannelle’s wrist to the bench, forcing her hand flat, she was still giving me that I-dare-you glare. When I held the knife over her hand, giving her one last chance to talk, she still thought I was bluffing. Only after I slammed the blade into her hand between her wrist and her fingers, jerking the blade in a twist, did she get the picture.

And couldn’t stop screaming.

“I know that hurts,” I remarked. “My father did that to my wrist last year, and damn, it was painful. Crippling, too. When I yanked the blade out, all my tendons were severed. I needed vampire blood to heal the damage. You will, too, Cannelle, or you’ll never use this hand again. So you can talk, and a dab of vampire blood’ll have you good as new. Or don’t talk, and I cripple your right hand next.”

“Fix it! Fix it!”

“You’ll tell us what we want to know?”

“Oui!”

I sighed and yanked the knife out. “Ian?”

Cannelle was still screaming when Ian sliced his palm and cupped it over her mouth.

“Quit wailing and swallow.”

She gulped at his hand. In seconds, her bleeding stopped, and the wound in her hand disappeared.

Geri couldn’t tear her eyes away from Cannelle’s mending hand. She shivered and rubbed her own hands together as if in reflex. I was more concerned with Cannelle’s face. Judging whether or not she’d go back on her word.

“Since we’ve established that I’m in a really foul mood, let’s move on to the question-and-answer phase. Oh, and if you make me use this knife again…I’m not healing anything I cut. What was your purpose in the French Quarter with Bones?”

Cannelle kept flexing her hand while staring at me in horror. “I was to fuck him, naturellement, and once assured that you heard of his infidelity, I was to take him to Gregor. Marie wouldn’t let Gregor’s people into the Quarter, though she did tell Gregor he could come.”

That was news. I’d thought no one was allowed in.

Ian was also interested. “If she’d granted him passage, then why didn’t Gregor meet Crispin inside the Quarter and fight him there if he wanted to kill him so badly?”

Cannelle’s mouth dipped. “Gregor said Bones wasn’t worthy of a fair fight.”

“Or Gregor was just chicken shit and wanted to stack the odds,” I muttered.

“Gregor is stronger,” Cannelle hissed, “but why would he allow his opponent to die with honor, considering his crimes?”

I wasn’t about to get into a character fight with Cannelle over Gregor. “So Gregor got Marie, the Queen of Orleans, to side with him. Interesting.”

Cannelle shrugged. “Marie said Gregor could only ambush Bones outside her city, which was why she didn’t let Gregor come with forces into the Quarter. Marie didn’t want to participate in making Bones leave, either, but Gregor made her.”

“He forced her?”

“Non, you misunderstand. He made her. ‘Twas his blood that raised her as a ghoul, and Gregor killed Marie’s other sire the night he changed her, so her fealty was only to him. Gregor agreed to release Marie in exchange, and Marie’s wanted free of Gregor for over a hundred years.”

“And Bones would trust Marie because she always guarantees safe passage in her meetings.” That clever, dirty schmuck.

Cannelle actually smirked. “Oui.”

My anger turned to ice. “Is that all, Cannelle?”

“Oui.”

I turned to Ian. “Think she’s got more?”

He met my gaze with equal coldness. “No, poppet. I think that’s it.”

I still had the knife in my hand, slick from Cannelle’s blood.

“Cannelle,” I said in a steady, clear tone. “I’m going to kill you. I’m telling you this so you can take a moment to pray if you choose, or to reflect, whatever. You lured my husband around with the full intention of taking him to his slaughter, and that’s just not forgivable to me.”