When the full council met, thirteen people sat at the table. Which meant when she spoke before all the members, her nerves increased tenfold. Today, thankfully it was only a tribunal of three, though they were not always on her side. “We’ll know more after the autopsy, I’m sure,” she said as she wrapped up her report. She looked at the members of the tribunal and tried to gauge their reaction to this latest news. That they were disturbed was obvious, yet she could sense something else. Some other disquiet.
“Is there any significance to the fact that this victim is also a vampire, other than the obvious hate crime scenario?” Deoul Arias, a high elf and president of the council, leaned forward, elbows resting on the table top, chin resting on his fingertips. The flowing white sleeves of his formal council robe fell away from his forearms. His skin had the translucent quality that all older elves possessed, and he wore his long black hair loose except for two thin braids at either side of his face. His pale blue eyes seared Nix, skewering her into place like a bug pinned to a display board.
“We’re not quite sure yet.” She glanced at the other members of the tribunal—William Braithwaite, a vampire who’d come through the rift at the same time as Tobias, and Caladh MacLoch, a shape-shifting seal commonly called a selkie in his native Scotland. Even as she looked at him, he picked up a small spray bottle and spritzed his face with water. He had to keep his skin cool and wet or the resulting dryness made his skin crack in long, deep furrows that were excruciatingly painful. Knowing that Deoul waited for an answer, she moved her gaze back to him and added, “It’s really too early to tell.”
Deoul heaved a sigh laden with irritation and impatience. He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t it your job, as a quadrant liaison to humankind, to know the answers to these questions and to show up at the crime scene on time?” His voice was cultured, holding disdain and the hint of an accent so ancient it spoke volumes about the kind of power he possessed.
Anger at his attitude, at his continued questioning of her abilities, because this certainly wasn’t the first time, rose within her. And, as usual, she tamped it down even as the patches of skin covering her horn buds started to itch. It wouldn’t do any good to lose her temper. She wondered if he did it on purpose, trying to teach her patience or some other fey nonsense. Or maybe he just liked pushing her buttons. Seeing the derision in his eyes, she decided he did it because he didn’t like her.
The feeling was mutual.
“I showed up within a reasonable time of when I got the call from dispatch.” Nix kept her voice steady and calm, and hopefully respectful enough to pass muster. Damn that werebear dispatcher. She knew he’d deliberately waited to call her, and now Deoul was taking it out on her hide. She drew a breath and went on to answer the first part of the derisive question. “It’s my job to find the answers to your questions. Which I will do as quickly as possible, I assure you.”
Deoul’s lips pursed, disappointment flashing across his face. He had wanted to get a rise out of her. Bastard. It made her doubly glad she hadn’t given him the satisfaction. If it killed her she’d hold on to her composure, just to spoil Deoul’s mood. Her grandma used to quote Scripture at her, obviously trying to subjugate the demon, and mostly Nix hadn’t listened. But one particular quote had stuck with her. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.
Damn, she’d wished her grandmother had practiced what she’d preached with that particular passage. But for now Nix would reflect on those words as it related to Deoul. Heaping figurative coals of fire on his head might be just what she needed to maintain her control around him.
Deoul leaned back in his chair. His icy eyes glittered but he remained silent. She glanced at Caladh and Braithwaite and saw varying amounts of displeasure on their faces. Her heart pounded a little harder as her anxiety increased. She was doing the best she could, but this might just be the excuse they needed to get rid of her. She knew the reason they’d chosen her to begin with was because she was so familiar with prets. They’d pushed aside their aversion for everything demon and had focused on her humanity.
At least she’d thought they had. Now she wasn’t so sure. It seemed the longer she served as a liaison the more contemptuous the council became. Maybe one day she’d find a sense of self-worth not attached to the job and tell them all where they could shove their biases. For now, though, she had something to prove to them. To herself. She drew in a breath and held it, counting to five. Then she exhaled. “Look, I’m not a medical examiner or a forensics expert. You didn’t hire me to be either of those. What you did hire me to do is act as a go-between, to gather information and sift through it to get to the truth.” She made eye contact with each of them. “And that is exactly what I will do. But you have to give me time.”